Drenai Saga 01 - Legend Read Online Free PDF

the fear gnawing at his belly. It would be unfair to say he was sorry he had rescued her; after all, it had done wonders for his self-esteem. His fear was of meeting Reinard now. This girl would never sit silent while he flattered and lied. And even if by some stroke of good fortune she did keep her mouth shut, she would certainly report him for giving information on caravan movements.
    The horse stumbled on a hidden root, and the girl pitched sideways. Rek’s hand lanced out, catching her arm and hauling her back in the saddle.
    “Put your arms around my waist, will you,” he said.
    “How much will it cost me?”
    “Just do it. It’s too cold to argue.”
    Her arms slid around him, her head resting against his back.
    Thick, dark clouds bunched above them, and the temperature began to drop.
    “We ought to make an early camp,” he stated. “The weather’s closing in.”
    “I agree,” she said.
    Snow began to fall, and the wind picked up. Rek dipped his head against the force of the storm, blinking against the cold flakes that blew into his eyes. He steered the gelding away from the trail and into the shelter of the trees, gripping the pommel of his saddle as the horse climbed a steep incline.
    An open campsite would be folly, he knew, in this freak storm. They needed a cave, or at least the lee of a rock face. For over an hour they moved on until at last they entered a clearing circled by oak and gorse. Within it was a crofter’s hut of log walls and earthen roof. Rek glanced at the stone chimney: no smoke.
    He heeled the tired gelding forward. At the side of the hut was a three-sided lean-to with a wicker roof bent by the weight of the snow upon it. He steered the horse inside.
    “Dismount,” he told the girl, but her hands did not move from his waist. He glanced down. The hands were blue, and he rubbed at them furiously. “Wake up!” he shouted. “Wake up, damn you!” Pulling her hands free, he slid from the saddle and caught her as she fell. Her lips were blue, her hair thick with ice. Lifting her over one shoulder, he removed the packs from the gelding, loosened the girth, and carried the girl to the hut. The wooden door was open, snow drifting into the cold interior as he stepped inside.
    The hut was one-roomed. He saw a cot in the corner beneath the only window, a hearth, some simple cupboards, and a wood store—enough for two, maybe three nights—stacked against the far wall. There were three crudely made chairs and a bench table roughly cut from an elm trunk. Rek tipped the unconscious girl on to the cot, found a stick broom under the table, and swept the snow from the room. He pushed the door shut, but a rotten leather hinge gave way and it tilted open again at the top. Cursing, he pulled the table to the doorway and heaved it against the frame.
    Tearing open his pack, Rek pulled his tinderbox free and moved to the hearth. Whoever had owned or built the holding had left a fire ready laid, as was the custom in the wild. Rek opened his small tinder pouch, making a mound of shredded dry leaves beneath the twigs in the grate. Over this he poured a little lantern oil from a leather flask and then struck his flint. His cold fingers were clumsy and the sparks would not take, so he stopped for a moment, forcing himself to take slow deep breaths. Then again he struck the flint, and this time a small flame flickered in the tinder and caught. He leaned forward, gently blowing it; then, as the twigs flared, he turned to sort smaller branches from the store, placing them gently atop the tiny fire. Flames danced higher.
    He carried two chairs to the hearth, placed his blankets over them before the blaze, and returned to the girl. She lay on the crude cot, scarcely breathing.
    “It’s the bloody armor,” he said. He fumbled with the straps of her jerkin, turning her over to pull it loose. Swiftly he stripped off her clothing and set to work rubbing warmth into her. He glanced at the fire, placed three more