The Golden Queen Read Online Free Page A

rather than hunted.
    At last, he stepped aside from the door so that a slender waif of a woman could enter the room. She stood in the doorway for a moment, erect, head held high with her hood still covering her face. Gallen saw by his tense posture that the man was her servant, her guard. She wore a bright blue traveling robe trimmed with golden rabbits and foxes. Under her arm she carried a small harp case made of rosewood. She hesitated for a moment, then started forward and her hood fell back.
    She was the most beautiful woman Gallen had ever seen. Not the most voluptuous or seductive—just the most perfect. She held herself with a regal air and looked to be about twenty. Her hair was as dark as a starless night. The line of her jaw was strong and firm. Her skin was creamy in complexion and her face looked worn, tired, but her dark blue eyes were alive and brilliant. Gallen recalled the words to an old song: “Her eyes kindle a fire for a lonely man to warm himself by.”
    Maggie boxed Gallen’s jaw playfully and said, “Gallen O’Day, if your tongue hangs out any farther, all you will have to do is wag it to clean the mud off your boots.”
    Maggie got up and greeted the strangers. “Come in and get out of the weather, sit by the fire and dry those soggy cloaks. Would you poor folks like some dinner, a room?”
    The tall man spoke with an odd speech impediment, loud enough so that the entire room could hear, “It is said that there is a place near here, art ancient arch with strange symbols carved on it—Geata na Chruinne. Do you know of it?”
    Until that moment, everyone in the room had been listening but pretending not to. Now, they cocked their ears and became conspicuous about it.
    Gallen wondered if these strangers might not be adventurers, out to see the sights of the world. Geata na Chruinne sometimes attracted such people.
    “I know of the place,” Maggie said suspiciously, studying the stranger’s face, “as does everyone around here.”
    “Is it easy to reach?” the stranger asked in a thick voice. “Could we make it tonight, after a brief rest and dinner?”
    “No one goes to the arch after dark,” Maggie said uneasily. “People say it’s haunted. You can stand beneath it on a hot day and feel cold air blowing off it like a sheet of ice. Besides, it’s deep in the forest, in Coille Sidhe. You can’t go there in the night.”
    “I could pay for a guide,” the stranger offered.
    “Well,” Maggie said, “there are a couple boys in town who know the way, if you’re willing to wait till morning.”
    “No—they can’t be boys,” the stranger said, standing over Maggie. “I want a man, a seasoned soldier. Someone who can defend himself.”
    Maggie glanced toward Gallen, lines of worry in her face. Few people in town had actually been to the ancient ruins called Geata na Chruinne, “Gate of the World.” And only one had any kind of fighting skills.
    Gallen wasn’t sure that he trusted these well-armed, secretive people. But he didn’t want to miss the chance to make some money. He nodded.
    “Gallen O’Day could take you there in the morning,” Maggie told them as she jerked her chin toward Gallen.
    The hooded stranger glanced at Gallen, said, “Are you a soldier?”
    He advanced on Gallen, the hood shielding his face. “He’s an armed escort,” Maggie boasted, “and he’s killed over twenty robbers. He’s the best there’s ever been.”
    As the stranger got close, Gallen could see that the tall man had vivid blue eyes, tawny hair going silver. He regarded Gallen with a distant expression.
    Without flinching an eye, the stranger drew his sword and swung at Gallen’s head. Gallen leapt from his chair and grabbed the stranger’s wrist, pinching the nerves between the radius and the ulna, then twisting. It was a painful grip, Gallen knew, and made the victim’s fingers spasm open. The stranger’s sword stroke went wide, then the sword itself clattered to the table. Gallen