Wildling Read Online Free Page B

asked what was wrong she would know it was he who had killed the harpy.
    Whatever was wrong, she would have to deal with it herself. He could not help her. But maybe the ancient goddess would answer her prayers as well.
    And yet, as he sat by his fire that evening cooking his dinner and looking out over the dark forest, he couldn't help but feel he had failed her. He had failed his mother when he had been unable to find her, and now he had failed someone else's mother.
    It was a long night and sleep did not come easily to him.
     

 
    Chapter Three.
     
     
    No good deed should ever go unpunished.
    It was an old saw that Dorn had never really thought much about. Until he saw the movement of the distant trees and felt the thunder in the ground that he knew were horses’ hooves. Riders were coming his way. Coming fast. And there was only one reason for it.
    Veria!
    She’d returned to her village, and no doubt told someone what had happened. And even though she didn’t know what had happened, or at least who had shot the harpy, it had been enough. Someone he didn't like and who probably didn't like him had heard her. And now, only a few days later, riders were heading for him.
    He did wonder briefly who they were. The church’s black hearted, black robed minions? They were always his enemy as they were of anyone with the gift and anyone who followed a different god. It was said that the Dicans sometimes used unclean creatures like harpies to punish their enemies. But that could just be the bards talking. And out in the wastes their presence simply wasn’t very strong anyway. The wastes belonged to the various monsters that called it home, and the people that lived in them learned to tip toe around them. They didn’t have time for faith. Neither in the new gods nor in the old ones. Besides, he hadn't heard of any Dicans visiting Little Rock in many years. It was simply too far from the safety of the civilised southern realms.
    Nobles of one sort or another? There were three realms that bordered the southern wastes nearby; the human realms of The Kingdom of Yed and Lampton Heights, and of course the dusky elves' land of Tellur el Ve. Both human realms did from time to time send patrols in. The southern wastes were close to the border and it was not uncommon for them to chase down criminals or hunt missing people in them. Of course those missing people were usually those the church wanted to burn. That was why he still kept his secret. But usually the patrols never entered too far or went off the trails, or they risked not returning.
    No one entered very far into the wastes. Little Rock was only fifty leagues north of Lampton Heights, and was as far as even he'd dared to go. If he’d travelled further towards the middle of the wastes he would have run out of towns in another fifty. The centre of the wastes was an expanse of complete wilderness two hundred leagues across, too dangerous for anyone to live in. The towns of the wastes were scattered all around it in a giant circle, a ring a hundred leagues thick. And even in the outer wastes the towns were only in certain places. Built far away from the many and various dangers that called the wastes home. This land was filled with deadly creatures.
    Besides, he was a fugitive from the church not from the lords of any of the nearby realms, and the nobles might send their soldiers in but not far. They wouldn't risk their soldiers on a hunt through the wastes for the church. They obeyed the Dicans in many things – they had to when the church held so much power. But there were limits. He also doubted whether after six or more years on the run, that the church was still looking for him. In the end he was just another wildling, and there were so many others on their list of people to kill. Other priests, other wildlings, any other people they didn't like. And even if they were still hunting him, it seemed unlikely after so long that they would know where to find him.
    Brigands? Now