Betrayal Read Online Free PDF Page A

talk to her and set her mind at ease. She was veiling, he decided, and yet there was no veil of hers he could not navigate his way around. This, if he was being honest, did not feel right.
    His mother continued chattering, oblivious to her son’s anguish, moving about her kitchen with practised ease and a surprisingly light step for such a heavy woman. Tor often wondered how he had managed to turn out so tall and slender with such short, round people for parents.
    He had missed the question.
    ‘I said, are you still feeling poorly, Tor?’ his mother repeated.
    He shook his thoughts clear. ‘Er…no, much better today. I’ll be able to work tomorrow,’ he replied.
    ‘Well, about time, Torkyn!’ said Jhon Gynt, but not unkindly, as he entered through the back door. ‘There’s a mighty storm brewing, mother. Look at the sky.’
    Tor joined his father at the door. Bruised clouds were gathering in dark clumps and the day’s early breeze had stopped making the trees show their respect. The late afternoon had become ominously still. The air felt brittle, expectant.
    ‘Are you worried about Lady?’ Tor asked guiltily.
    ‘No. Alyssa will have the sense to have her in that barn of theirs and this storm may not even hit Mallee Marsh. Lady’s better off where she is. I’ll need her by Fourthday though, son, so I hope you’re well enough to get over there and bring her back by then.’
    Tor nodded and felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
    ‘All right, let’s see what treat Mother Gynt has in store for us,’ his father said kindly.
    The storm banged angrily against their front door two hours later.
    Ailsa Gynt shivered. ‘I hate thunder and lightning—sends a chill up my spine,’ she commented from her rocking chair, fingers travelling swiftly with a needle and yarn.
    ‘Why?’ Tor said, yawning and closing his book.
    ‘Oh, it’s silly, but my grandmother always used to say it was a bad omen…you know, that perhaps the gods are angry.’
    ‘Oh Ailsa, my love, stop that nonsense,’ Jhon grumbled gently. ‘Son, I can hear that back gate swinging against the wall. It’s going to come off its hinges if we don’t secure it.’
    Tor pulled on a large hat and blanket from the hook by the back door and loped off. As he left, a hand of lightning lit up the sky, swiftly followed by a deafening crack of thunder.
    ‘That was close,’ Ailsa muttered, sewing frantically. ‘The gods must be furious!’
    Jhon Gynt clicked his tongue in feigned irritation and returned to his accounts. It was then they heard a different sort of banging on their front door.
    Tor marvelled at the theatrics of nature above him, but did not tarry for the rain was hard and furious, turning the yard into slimy mud. He cast to Alyssa for the umpteenth time in two days and again found only strange bleakness on their link. Tor felt so glum he allowed the rain to pummel him for a few moments. Then, gingerly edging his way around the deepening puddles, he heard his mother calling to him from the back step. He squinted through the rain and could see her beckoning for him to hurry.
    What now? he thought irritably.
    He stepped back into the house, uselessly trying to stamp off the water from the drenching as he hung the sodden blanket and hat back on the hook. When he turned he felt his stomach flip. Between his parents, and smiling benignly, was the old, silver-haired stranger. Instinctively Torkyn shielded himself and his parents in an instant.
    Impressive , said the old man directly into Tor’s head. But fear me not, I am no enemy of yours.
    Jhon Gynt was speaking. Tor wanted to shake his mind clear of the old man’s touch. His father sounded overwhelmed by the importance of their evening visitor.
    ‘Torkyn, this is Physic Merkhud. He tends their majesties, King Lorys and Queen Nyria.’ His father’s emphatic look suggested he show due respect.
    Why do you stalk me, old man? Tor slammed back across the open link whilst effecting a neat bow