Free Shadowmoor (de Lohr Dynasty #6) by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

narrow road, and especially so early in the morning. Curious, and somewhat concerned, Brynner turned to glance at Shadowmoor, which was perhaps a mile or so behind him. He’d wandered far this morning as he’d thought of Maud and days gone by. He was fairly certain he couldn’t make it back to Shadowmoor’s protective walls before the men on horseback reached him, so he returned his attention to his original direction, northeast, and began to walk quickly through the muddy path. There was a collection of boulders not far away where he knew he could find shelter of sorts, a hiding place to conceal himself from the riders. Clearly, he did not know their purpose, but the knight in him, the highly-trained warrior he liked to keep well-buried, told him to make himself scarce until the riders passed.
    It was also true that he wasn’t oblivious to what had gone on at Shadowmoor over the past four years. A local lord by the name of Bramley wanted Brynner’s sister as well as Shadowmoor. Brynner had been away at Okehampton Castle when it all started and his father had never mentioned anything about it until Brynner had returned home and by then, Brynner didn’t care about anything other than himself. Bramley’s oppression hadn’t mattered in his world and he’d promptly hid himself in the vault while Shadowmoor, and his family, suffered.
    But Brynner stayed clear of all of that, only concerning himself with getting enough drink, but in moments like this, when he was lucid, and alone, he was concerned with four riders heading for Shadowmoor because they could quite possibly be Bramley’s men. He knew they patrolled the area around Shadowmoor but he’d always managed to stay clear of them. This would, again, be one of those times. He planned to hide.
    So he took off as fast as he could, heading towards the boulders that would shield him from the riders. Everything was so wet that it was difficult for him to gain traction in the mud and in his worn and ragged boots, it was even more difficult. He was sliding everywhere, trying to run, falling on the thick and wet heather that covered the moor and then picking himself up to continue on his path.
    Before drink had swamped him, Brynner had been very fast indeed but the advent of alcohol every day for the past three years had dulled his senses. He wasn’t as quick as he used to be. Struggling and slipping, he continued towards the boulders.
    Unfortunately, his antics had attracted the attention he was trying to avoid. As the sun rose against the stark moor, it wasn’t difficult to see something moving along the hillside, scrambling across the wetness left from the rains. The four men who had been heading up the side of the hill had seen him from afar and had closed in on him easily. Brynner had no idea they were upon him until he heard the thunder of hooves and, by that time, it was too late.
    Panicked, Brynner tried to scramble up part of the hill that was too steep for the horses to go but he couldn’t get his footing and ended up tumbling down. He rolled down the hill, ending up in the center of the four horsemen.
    Covered in mud, with a throbbing head and now with fear in his heart, Brynner sat up, his baleful expression on those surrounding him.
    “What do you want?” he demanded. “Why do you bother me?”
    The man in the lead was big and well equipped. He rode a stunning roan warmblood and he was dressed as a knight but he wasn’t wearing a helm. None of the men were, which was strange considering the amount of weaponry they had with them. They looked as if they were ready for battle. The man on the roan peered down at Brynner, on his arse in the mud.
    “Why are you running?” he asked in a heavy French accent. “What are you doing up here, far away from civilization?”
    Brynner scowled. “That is not your affair.”
    The Frenchman sat back in his saddle, pondering the reply, before looking around, back over his left shoulder to see Shadowmoor up in the distance