Daughter of Prophecy Read Online Free Page B

puzzled.
    â€œNow they will think they can get away with not doing their duty.”
    â€œHow can they be expected to fight winged horrors with just their staffs? You heard Father say they would have been foolish to do that.”
    Creag’s lip curled. “Next time they see danger, they will run away again.”
    â€œThey will stay and fight next time,” Rhiannon said. “They will walk barefoot over hot coals if Father asks it of them.”
    Creag shook his head, snorting in disagreement. They passed a mound of grass-choked ruins. Loreteller Girard claimed it was a former temple dedicated to the old gods pulled down centuries ago during the Cleansing when Destin Faber led the effort to rid the Land of pagan worship.
    A fresh wind gust molded Rhiannon’s dark green cloak to her back. The front edge tangled around the hilt of her sword and flapped maddeningly. When she tugged it loose, the wind snatched it out of her grip, blowing the cloak before her, held on only by the clasp at her neck.
    Her filly, Nineve, broke into a fast trot, startled at the sudden appearance of the material waving above her head. Rhiannon grappled with the cloak with one hand while reining back her mount with the other. Nineve was still green and needed at least another year of hard training. Rhiannon was growing weary of the constant struggle.
    Creag snickered. “If you put your arms through the straps inside your cloak the wind couldn’t blow it loose.”
    â€œThe straps hinder drawing my sword,” she snapped, fighting to rearrange the cloak.
    â€œYou make just one swing, and it will be all you can do to keep Nineve from running off. Then the cloak will be in your face and your sword will be—”
    â€œAt least I hit what I swing at instead of missing the gourd by two handsbreadth and breaking a good sword on the post.”
    â€œNot on Nineve. Last time you tried that on her, she threw you. While you were trying to catch her, I knocked off every gourd—”
    â€œAt a trot. I knocked them off at a canter—”
    â€œOnly the last two. You were so busy trying to control her that you missed the first three!”
    â€œI will hear no more of this mindless chatter,” their father growled. He looked back over his shoulder. “Rhiannon, join me and Girard. There are things you need to know. Creag, we will discuss the same with you next.”
    She gave her brother a sour look, then urged the filly up to squeeze between the two men. Her being called first would put Creag in a pout the rest of the day.
    â€œLord Tellan has asked me to be sure you understand our lore about winged horrors,” Girard said.
    â€œI listen to learn, loreteller.”
    â€œBefore Destin Faber and the Cutting of the Covenant, winged horrors of the night and other such creatures could be loosed by the Mighty Ones.”
    Rhiannon nodded. This was common knowledge—and the subject of many nighttime stories told by Ove, their household servant.
    â€œThe Covenant,” the loreteller continued, “severely limited the Mighty Ones’ power, and the appearances of those creatures virtually ceased.”
    â€œThat is what the Keepers of the Covenant assure us each year when we bring our tithe.”
    A flock of birds flew across the path, then wheeled abruptly away from the ridge to the right and the drop-off beyond. Nineve turned her head that way; her ears flicked forward. Rhiannon pulled her around, but the filly pulled against the bit to look right again. The birds’ calls faded into the distance.
    â€œLess commonly known,” Girard said, “are the reports of appearances through the centuries. Keepers respond to them and keep their own records. But no one among the six clans has produced a carcass verified by a Loreteller Assembly. Most such incidents are considered flights of fantasy.”
    Tellan spoke. “But you believe last night’s attack to have been winged