Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir Read Online Free Page B

scepticism. If she wanted war-wounds, I had plenty of those; twisted, gnarled scars covered the entirety of my torso, made infinitely worse by my early attempts at honing my necromancy. They'd turned the colour of bruised, rotting fruit, but in that moment, I would've let all the world see them if it meant proving myself.
    Sir Ightham was a fighter, versed in the art of slaying towering beasts. She'd see past the grotesque and understand the scars for what they were. Proof that I'd thrown myself into the fray and come out victorious.
    She said nothing.
    My grip loosened. My words didn't mean a thing to her. She'd spent her life slaying dragons ; what did mere wolves matter to her? She'd never take a necromancer along with her. Not wanting to risk inciting Thule's anger, Thane must've told her what I'd done. How I'd lied to the village. How I'd claimed to be a healer for seven long years.
    Sir Ightham tugged on her horse's reins as I knew she would.
    “Wait, Sir!” I called out, rushing after her. “If you won't take me with you, that's alright. I won't tell anyone about this. But could you leave a note, at least? Explain that you had to leave, and that it was of your own choice. Because if you don't, they'll think I... they'll blame me.”
    Only then did Sir Ightham seem annoyed, irritated by the fear that spilt into my voice. She heaved a great sigh and her horse came to a halt before they'd had the chance to get anywhere.
    “Feed your horse bitterwillow,” she said through grit teeth. “We've tens of miles to cover before sunrise and I have no more time to waste.”

CHAPTER II
    There was plenty of bitterwillow stored around the farm.
    We started growing it once it became evident that nobody was going to replace the apothecary. My father didn't quite have the knack for it, but the village deemed it good enough. I took a handful of the crisp red leaves drying along the wall, shoved them into my pocket, and bolted into the stables, waking my horse.
    Charley wasn't best pleased to see me. In the time it took me to coax him to his feet, Sir Ightham could've made her escape. I held out a few of the leaves, trying to tempt him into action.
    He sniffed my hand and swished his tail against the sides of the pen.
    “Come on, boy,” I pleaded with him, “I'll get you carrots at the first market we reach. Carrots, apples—anything.”
    Charley wasn't the fastest horse in the world – he wasn't even the fastest horse in the village – but he'd been with me since I was sixteen and always came through, eventually. He ate the bitterwillow and clopped out into the night, grunting impatiently as I saddled him up.
    The bitterwillow I'd fed him would do, for now. It'd give him energy enough to run for a few hours at the very least, and there was still plenty in my pocket. I grabbed a little more on the way out, wishing I'd brought a bag. Wishing I'd brought anything ; all I had in my pocket was my knife.
    I glanced at the house, not a candle burning within, but knew I had no more time to waste. I'd never make it to my room without each and every stair betraying me and waking half the village.
    Sir Ightham was already gone, though she hadn't gone far.
    She was waiting in the hills beyond the farm, looking to head south of the woods. That was a small mercy in and of itself; leaving the village was a big enough step, and I wasn't yet brave enough to push into the perpetual darkness between the trees.
    The wolves would smell one of their own on me, and my head was full of childhood tales of the pane that were sure to lurk within. I was ready for some level of adventure, but not the sort that involved giants tearing the flesh from my bones.
    “Okay—okay, I'm ready,” I said to Sir Ightham, as though she'd taken the time to ask. Side by side on horseback though we were, she still towered over me. Without a word, she set off along the path zigzagging back and forth, winding its way out of the valley. “Wait, Sir!”
    Sir Ightham