The Fabled Beast of Elddon Read Online Free Page A

founding of Briganthan, when they gave it all away to
Linheath and the other greedy barons.”
    “I
don’t think the King of Briganthan would take kindly to such talk,” Ander said.
    “I
don’t serve the king,” Sir Egan said. “I serve Elddon. Now, shut your mouths
the both of you or I’ll have your tongues out.” With that, the knight dug in
his spurs and rode on ahead.
    Ander
and Tristan exchanged a resigned look. There was nothing they could do now but
bide their time and wait for some opportunity to present itself. Ander thought
about the girl, Ryia. Even now she was on her way to meet some fate he could
only imagine, and there was nothing he or Tristan could do to stop it. She
might be dead before the day was out and they both knew it.
    They
climbed the remainder of the hill in silence. The gates of the castle stood
open and the horse’s hooves made a dull clopping noise as they clattered across
the drawbridge, through the gate house, and into the courtyard beyond. They
came to a halt outside the walls of the keep. The soldiers pulled Ander and
Tristan down and cut the ropes binding their arms, although their hands
remained tied.
    The
knight waited for them at the top of a narrow staircase, inside the doorway of
an antechamber built onto the side of the keep. Ander and Tristan climbed the
stairs, with four guards behind them, and were steered into a large meeting hall.
    The
lord’s great hall was not so grand as some Ander had visited, but it was clean
and bright, aglow with the light of countless candles. Baron Leofrick an Elddon
sat in an ornately carved chair, on a raised dais at the back of the room. He
was surrounded by priests, councilors, and courtiers, all of whom appeared to
be talking at once. A pair of guards stood to either side of the dais, against
the back wall, watching the arrival of the newcomers with wary interest. As the
knight and his prisoners entered, the baron, a tall, slender man in a green
mantle and white linen shift, raised one hand. His courtiers quieted at once,
their attention turning to Ander and Tristan as the guards forced them to their
knees.
    “Who
are these men?” Baron Leofrick asked, his voice a dull monotone that conveyed
little in the way of emotion. “And more importantly, what are they doing here?”
    “My
lord,” Sir Egan said, taking a step forward. “These men were taken in the
village. They are outsiders who assaulted my men in the course of their duly assigned
and honorable duties. They wounded several of your loyal guardsmen, and all
without provocation.”
    “Provocation,”
Ander snorted, “we had plenty of provocation. Loosen these ropes and I’ll show
you how I generally deal with men who put women in cages.” Ander strained at
the bindings around his wrists, causing the men beside him to reach for their
blades. But Sir Egan only laughed.
    “A
fine display of bravado, Northman, but pointless. Tell us your name so we can
give it to the executioner when he arrives.”
    “I
am called Ander Inenyar,” Ander said. “From Hithgowr.”
    “Cold
country, Hithgowr,” Sir Egan smirked. “No wonder your brain works so slowly.”
    “M’lord,”
Tristan pleaded. “I am called Tristan, and I grew up here, on a farm near
Elddon. You must hear our side of this tale if you are to pass judgment. We
only meant--”
    “What
you meant is irrelevant,” Baron Leofrick said. “I trust my men, and Sir Egan above
all. If he says you are guilty, then you are most certainly guilty. There is no
other side to hear.” The baron waved his hand, dismissing them. “You may hang
them now or whenever is convenient.”
    “Thank
you, my lord,” Sir Egan said, stepping back and offering Ander and Tristan a
smile that reminded Ander of a cat with a bird in its mouth.
    “M’lord,
wait, please!” Tristan cried, lunging to his feet. The guard holding him put a boot
into the back of his knees and forced him down again. “I am no outsider!” Tristan
shouted. “My only