Read The Stumpwork Robe (The Chronicles of Eirie 1) for Free Online Page B

away, unaware of the eldritch shade in the lane because Liam contrived it so.
    He hurried down the lane and round the corner to the Tavern, retrieving his dark grey mount from the stable and passing the groom a handful of coins.
    ‘Oh sir! Thanks. But I ‘ardly deserve it, ‘e’s such a good boy it were a pleasure to care for ‘im.’
    Liam tightened his girth and looped reins over the horse’s head. ‘Indeed, he’s good and fast with it. Tell me, I’m seeking young Bellingham. Can you help me?’
    The groom looked at the palm full of gelt and smoothed the grey’s forelock as he answered. ‘Lor, sir, you just missed ‘im. ‘E ‘as ‘eaded ‘ome.’
    ‘And which way is that?’
    The boy, quite soothingly mesmered, was willing to tell him everything he needed to know.
     
    Riding at a steady pace through the woodland shortcut, Liam was content that he would head off Bellingham at Buck’s Passing, the stony passage across Buck’s Beck on the main road. On either side of the Passing, the beck fell into deep waterholes, green and black and frilled with undulating weed. All the world knew it skirted the western edge of the Weald inspiring fear in those who must go that way. Liam had no doubt Bellingham would attempt the crossing at a cracking pace, coward that he was, in a desperate need to pass it by quickly. Ah well, he had other plans. T he fount of anger that had erupted on Ana’s behalf surprised him. Real anger, as if she really did matter . He allowed the emotions to carry him along; intrigued, excited, which only served to heighten his fury at Bellingham. By the spirits the scum would pay.
    The afternoon was sinking into the gold and navy shadows of evening and being the last of those clear autumnal days, it promised to be a longish dusk. The coin-like discs of the copperbeech rattled like a skeleton’s spine and the horse trod on a fallen branch, the loud snap like the breaking of bone. Thereafter, silence grabbed and swallowed sound, the only noise the horse made was the occasional shush as its feet shifted over the forest floor. Ahead, light glittered silver on a shallow pass of water and Liam could hear the ripple and tumble of the beck as it flowed over the stones from one deep hole to another. Perversely the brook continued its journey to join with the Prosser in a stony gorge called Paradise. Liam reined to a halt and threw his leg over the grey’s neck, jumping to the ground - casual, unconcerned. Smoothing errant wisps of hair with a hand, he led the horse to a deep patch of shade where it could be seen neither from the Passage nor the track. Despite the occasional skittering and the glint of amber eyes through bushes, despite heavy footsteps and coarse whispering close by, his horse was as eldritch as any other and neither sidled nor snorted nor laid its ears back. It merely cropped the low forest grasses, swishing an idle tail, knocking off the will o’ the wisps gathering in the growing dusk.
    Returning to the edge of the track to lean against a tree, Liam was unsurprised to see a horse of great height and breathless beauty standing still, resting a hind leg. It pricked its ears and met his eyes with its own glinting black orbs. He admired the glistening jet sheen of the coat, almost reflective in its silky brilliance. Dangling from the horse’s flowing mane was a piece of waterweed and twisted in its tail, the same grassy decoration. It snaked its head and gave a half rear, adding to the unseelie atmosphere swirling between man and horse, reins falling from a sparkling bit and bridle.
    ‘I am not your prey today,’ Liam whispered. ‘Be patient, there are better pickings than me.’
    A thrumming rumbled underneath his feet, a horse at full gallop. He passed his hand in front of his body, like someone wiping moisture off a windowpane on a frosty morning. Immediately the drumming changed to the three beat of a horse cantering, then an uneven two beat as the horse trotted with difficulty,