“The Legend’s own pup is docile and pays no heed to his commands.”
The little animal was one of few who did not fear the Legend. But was that fear not why she was here, to hire the infamous Legend to do what he did best—make men fear him. She wanted Peter Kilkern to fear him and leave her village in peace.
She no longer needed to worry about that, for Magnus would see to it. They had struck a bargain, her mapping skills in return for his protecting her village. He had given his word, and that was all she needed, for in all her father’s stories the Legend was a man of his word, and meeting him she could see the truth of it.
Her body relaxed, and she knew sleep would soon claim her. That was fine. She was anxious for the morning to come and eager to return home. She hoped all was well in the village and that Brigid did not overly worry about her.
She missed her friend and her family, and she would probably miss them even more when the time came to leave with the Legend. She had not given the idea much thought; if she had, she would have hesitated in her decision. Her whole life had been her village. Now she was the official mapmaker to the Legend. She would live at his keep, travel with him and obey his commands.
Life was certainly going to be different.Chapter 6Reena stood on the keep’s steps, clutching her makeshift satchel in her arms and watching with excitement as the Legend’s men prepared to embark on their journey. It was an orchestrated effort, everyone working together in unison. They were an organized and practiced troop, impressive in size, mostly large men, bulky with muscles and superior strength. They were clad in dark brown shirts covered with black leather tunics and black leggings. Swords, bows and arrows, and battle-axes were being strapped to horse and man alike.
She could see how the sight of them could intimidate, though she felt not the least frightened by them. They were pleasant and well mannered toward her. One man had even handed her a brown wool cloak, explaining that the Legend’s troop all wore the same distinguishing colors—brown and black.
She had wrapped it around her immediately, pleased that she was so easily accepted by them. And pleased that soon she would be on her way home.
Wagons were packed, their drivers ready, reins in hands, and several women, in brown cloaks, stood alongside prepared to walk. How this large troop had managed to prepare for a journey in one day’s time certainly spoke highly of their skills and dedication to their leader. They seemed prepared to follow him anywhere.
She wondered why women were joining the troop, since it seemed like the men were preparing to go off to battle. But then, the Legend had his way of doing things, and she was not one to judge them.
Thomas suddenly walked out of the keep, and all the men quickly mounted their horses. He was dressed as the others, though his bulk and bald head made him appear much more intimidating. He went to his horse and mounted, then all eyes turned to the keep’s open door.
Reena smiled knowing they all waited for the Legend.
Her smile vanished in a flash as she took several hasty steps back from the dark figure that emerged from the keep.
Complete silence filled the cool autumn air, not a voice was heard, not a bird sang, and the bright sun hurried behind a dark cloud.
Reena remained frozen where she stood, her mouth agape and her body trembling as she watched the Legend walk forward.
He wore complete black except for the silver studs that accented his leather tunic in a random design. But it was not his dress that left her speechless, it was his metal helmet, black as night covering nearly all of his face except for his eyes, mouth and jaw. It looked as though it had been made for him, rounding over his head and fitting snug to his face.
She shivered, for his appearance certainly helped make him a legend.
His eyes slowly canvassed the area, searching the sea of faces until his intent gaze settled on her.
He walked down the steps and toward her, and if she were not still frightened from the sight of him she would have run. Instead she clutched her sack to her chest like a shield, fought to keep her trembling legs from collapsing, and waited.
He stopped mere inches away from her, and while she was familiar with his height, he seemed taller, broader and more like a stranger. “Do you ride?”
She nodded, finding that her voice had deserted her.
He signaled, and two men on horse rode up to them. One man held the reins to a beautiful dark gray mare with a black mane. The other rider held the reins of a magnificent beast of a black horse that pranced and snorted and appeared agitated until he caught sight of the Legend. Then he calmed instantly.