Wulfyddia (The Tattersall Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

there
somewhere.”
    “Good, I
hope she stays there.” With her usual abruptness Daphne rolled over onto her
side, tucking her braid over her shoulder and resting her hands under her
cheek. In minutes Daphne was asleep, but Lorna lingered for a while by the
window. Sleep had not come easily to her since they found the book four nights
ago. She was ready for the dawn, for a bright morning of rambling in the castle
gardens with her sister. She didn’t want to lie down between her cold sheets
and try to sleep, or lie awake wondering whether they had done the right thing
today. But she grew cold standing there alone, and eventually her bed beckoned
to her, reluctant as she was. She slipped quietly beneath the covers and rolled
over so that she was facing her sister, and eventually they were both wrapped
in dreams.
    ***
    Spencer was sleeping soundly, the book tucked
under his mattress, when a footstep and a whisper summoned him to wakefulness. His
first thought was that those girls had come back to make more mischief. In his somnolent
state it took him a minute to realize that it was probably his mother, up for
some water or to use the washroom. Reassured by this explanation, Spencer
rolled over on his cot, winced at the loud squeak as he shifted his weight, and
closed his eyes. But as he lay there, waiting for sleep’s return, it occurred
to him that the footsteps were quite slow, almost as though his mother was
wandering the halls rather than making a trip to the washroom. And the steps
echoed. There wasn’t usually an echo.
    Aware that he was probably letting his
imagination get the best of him, Spencer pushed his blankets aside and climbed
out of his cot, stumbling a little on the cold stone floor. The chamber was
likely due to be scrubbed, because he smelled wet, rotting soil. Beneath that
powerful scent, was the fainter, softer perfume of a flower, teasing his nose,
there one minute and gone the next.
    He padded softly toward the door, aware that
at the same time, the footsteps were drawing nearer. Come to think of it, the
woman was walking in the opposite direction from the washroom. Her slow, faint
footsteps were the only sound breaking the silence of the Haligorn. He couldn’t
even hear the omnipresent ticking of the clock in the hall. Had it stopped? Spencer
quietly reached for the doorknob, and as his fingers closed on the cold metal,
the steps suddenly sped up, as though the woman were breaking into a sprint.
    Spencer jerked the door open and peered out
into the hall. The stench of earth and flowers was stronger there, as though he
was closer to the source. It sounded as if the woman was running, and Spencer
looked sharply left. As he turned his head he thought that he caught a glimpse
of a figure in white vanishing around the corner, but what startled him most of
all was the moonlight. It was everywhere, spilling down the halls, illuminating
the height and grandeur of the old walls in a way that Spencer had never seen
before. That was because he had never seen the corridor lit by moonlight.  And
that was because the corridor had no windows…
    The moonlight was everywhere, silvery and
unmistakable, yet it had no origin. The walls in the corridor were very thick and
lacked even the arrow slits that were in many of the rooms, yet the entire hall
was bathed in a soft glow. Spencer took a step forward into the silver light
and the still air of the shining hall, and it struck him how silent the
corridor was, how abandoned. His courage almost failed him, but then there was
a sound, a breathy whisper that seemed to come to him as if on a breeze and
over a great distance.
    “Sssspencerrrrr.” Perhaps she wasn’t running
from him. Perhaps he was meant to go to her. He followed the sound of her
retreating footsteps down that bright hall, his toes curling against stone that
was impossibly cold. He smelled another scent now, wafting over the earth and
the flowers. He could taste brine and feel the bite of salty wind