Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir Read Online Free

him safely released until I'd left, or, or—
    I gave a start as I reached for the front door. There was someone there.
    I gripped the handle and froze. It was faint, but there it was; the sound of heavy footsteps against the ground, wood creaking. They weren't inside the house, whoever they were, and for a brief moment I considered bolting up the stairs and hiding under my blankets.
    Not wanting to back myself into a corner, something compelled me to step around the side of the house. It was probably just a pig that had worked its way free of the pen, that was it. I'd be laughing about this over breakfast, it was just a pig, just a pig—
    Clouds drifted across the full moon, and in the darkness I didn't know what I was seeing. I froze in front of a jagged creature, all teeth and sharp angles, lying in wait, and where was my crook now?
    Out of reach, by some miracle.
    The clouds parted and I realised that I was looking at Sir Ightham herself, armour carved to mirror the beasts she was charged with slaying. What she was doing behind my house at one, perhaps two in the morning wasn't as easily answered. Sir Ightham knew she'd given me a fright, but didn't apologise; she didn't say anything.
    She opened a bag she'd placed atop a hay bale by the stable doors, and pushed a handful of documents into it.
    “Sir... ?” I asked, taking a cautious step closer. “Is everything alright?”
    “Why wouldn't it be?” she replied dryly, slinging a bag over her shoulder.
    Her accent was different from mine. Clearer, somehow, as though words held more importance when she spoke them. She had something folded open across the hay bale and leant forward to study it, full moon not as accommodating as it could've been. I dared to steal a glance, and saw it was a map. A familiar map at that, showing all of Felheim with the mountains above and Kastelir to the west.
    “Because it's one in the morning and you're sneaking around behind my house,” I said after a moment, hands clasped behind my back.
    “Knights don't sneak,” she said, and I winced, thinking this might be what they called speaking out of turn. She folded the map with her gloved hands and dropped it into one of her bags. Sir Ightham turned and I braced myself, but her helm threw shadows across her face. I couldn't see anything in her expression, but did a considerable job of imagining disdain marring her face. She regarded me for a moment and said, quite dismissively, “You're the necromancer, I take it.”
    It wasn't a question. She knew . Like the rest of the village, she knew enough to decide it was all that mattered, and I abruptly became overwhelmingly aware that Knights were in the habit of carrying swords. My eyes tore across her unnatural form. The spikes the elbows of her armour were carved to would do as good a job as any blade.
    But Sir Ightham made no movement other than to ask, “What was your name?”
    It almost skidded off my tongue before I had the chance to speak it.
    “Rowan, Sir,” I said.
    My mind was screaming that she knew , she knew what I was. She'd said the word necromancer as if it was nothing. As if she'd been saying You're the farmer, I take it. I was more helpless than I'd been upon stumbling across an unknowable beast and decided it'd be better for me to disappear into the house and never speak of this.
    “What are you doing out at this time?” she asked.
    She wasn't interested in my answer; she was keeping me distracted while she gathered the remainder of her belongings.
    “I just finished tending to the sheep,” I said, and though I should've known better, added, “Listen—if you're sneaking away, I won't tell anyone. I don't blame you! It must be kind of overwhelming, right? All the attention, I mean.”
    Sir Ightham stared at me for a moment. At least I thought she was staring at me; I couldn't make her eyes out, but a slither of moonlight struck the ones carved along the sides of her helm and those were certainly narrowed at