Ironhand's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

hands. Seeing the forester, the old man tapped his stick lightly on the flanks of the hounds. “Hold up there, Shamol. Hold up, Cabris. Good day to you, woodsman!”
    Fell smiled. “By Heaven, Gwalch, you look ridiculous sitting in that contraption.”
    â€œWhisht, boy, at my age I don’t give a care to how I look,” said the old man. “What matters is that I can travel as far as I like, without troubling my old bones.” Leaning forward, he peered at the forester. “You look greyer than a winter sky, boy. Are you ailing?”
    â€œWounded. And I’ve shed some blood. I’ll be fine. Just need a rest, is all.”
    â€œHeading for Cilfallen?”
    â€œAye.”
    â€œThen climb aboard, young man. My hounds can pull two as well as one. Good exercise for them. We’ll stop off at my cabin for a dram. That’s what you need, take my word for it: a little of the water of life. And I promise not to tell your fortune.”
    â€œYou
always
tell my fortune—and it never makes good listening. But, just this once, I’ll take you up on your offer. I’ll ride that idiotic wagon. But I’ll pray to all the gods I know that no one sees me on it. I’d never live it down.”
    The old man chuckled and moved to his right, making room for the forester. Fell laid his longbow and quiver in the back and stepped aboard. “Home now, hounds!” said Gwalch. The dogs lurched into the traces and the little cart jerked forward. Fell laughed aloud. “I thought nothing would amuse me today,” he said.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have gone to her, boy,” said Gwalch.
    â€œNo fortunes, you said!” the forester snapped.
    â€œPah! That’s not telling your fortune; that’s a comment on moments past. And you can put the black man from your mind, as well. He’ll not win her. She belongs to the land, Fell. In some ways she
is
the land. Sigarni the Hawk Queen, the hope of the Highlands.” The old man shook his head, and then laughed, as if at some private jest. Fell clung to the side of the cart as it rattled and jolted, the wheels dropping into ruts in the trail, half tipping the vehicle.
    â€œBy Heaven, Gwalch, it is a most uncomfortable ride,” complained the forester.
    â€œYou think this is uncomfortable?” retorted the old man. “Wait till we get to the top of my hill. The hounds always break into a run for home. By Shemak’s balls, boy, it’ll turn your hair grey!”
    The hounds toiled up the hill, pausing only briefly at the summit to catch their breaths. Then they moved on, rounding a last bend in the trail. Below them Gwalch’s timber cabin came into sight and both dogs barked and began to run.
    The cart bounced and lurched as the dogs gathered speed, faster and faster down the steep slope. Fell could feel his heart pounding and his knuckles were white as he gripped the side rail. Ahead of them was a towering oak, the trunk directly in their path. “The tree!” shouted Fell.
    â€œI know!” answered Gwalch. “Best to jump!”
    â€œJump?” echoed Fell, swinging to see the old man following his own advice. At the last moment the dogs swerved toward the cabin. The cart tipped suddenly and Fell was hurled headfirst from it, missing the oak by inches. He hit the ground hard, with the wind blasted from his lungs.
    Fell forced himself to his knees just as Gwalch came ambling over. “Great fun, isn’t it?” said the old man, stopping to take Fell by the arm and pull him to his feet.
    Fell looked into Gwalch’s twinkling brown eyes. “You are insane, Gwalch! You always were.”
    â€œLife is to be lived, boy. Without danger there is no life. Come and have a dram. We’ll talk, you and I, of life and love, of dreams and glory. I’ll tell you tales to fire your blood.”
    Fell found his longbow and quiver, gathered the fallen arrows, and followed the old