Free The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) by Brittany Comeaux Page B

investigate the noise they made and ran into the night, leaving nothing but the charred remains of Count Lerington's castle in their wake.
    Once they were clear of the village and the keep, they slowed to a walk and Milea began to flip through the pages of Lionel's journal.
    “Well, what next?” Varg asked.
    “I think we should head south. I saw something in the journal about a gang stronghold near a village called Wild Valley.”
    Varg stopped in his tracks and his expression dropped. “Wild Valley?”
    “Yes, do you know it?”
    After a brief silence, Varg answered, “I know it.”
    “Do you remember how to get there?”
    “Not entirely, but I do have a map I took from Lionel's study,” Varg said. He removed the map from his pocket and unfolded it.
    “It's just past the border between Virland and Ironbarrow, in this forest region,” Varg said as he pointed to an area on the map. “That river runs through the village, so if we find the river, we just follow it southeast to Wild Valley.”
    “Excellent,” Milea said. “Lucky for us, you've been there.”
    “Of course,” Varg muttered.
    Varg tried his best to avoid eye contact with her to avoid having to explain his sudden change in attitude and walked ahead of her until they found a place to make camp. They set up their equipment and snacked on bread before going to sleep. Varg rested his head on the cloth of his sleeping sack and tried to relieve the sense of dread he had, but to no avail.
    Why, of all places in the world, did he have to return to Wild Valley?
     
    Night had fallen over Rivershire and Count Edric Greenwood paced in his bed chamber as he anxiously awaited news on the two fugitives who escaped Rivershire. The Count knew his actions that led to this situation were rash, but Lionel's discoveries could have lead back to him. It was unfortunate, but with his freedom and right to rule Rivershire on the line, Edric had no choice but to kill his old friend. Now he had heard the two upstarts he tried to set up to take the fall not only evaded capture at every corner, but had launched their own investigation into why Lionel was murdered in the first place.
    Edric felt a sudden chill, so he searched about for the source of a draft. He discovered that the doors to his balcony were open and letting in a light wind. He hadn't left it open, but he didn't have time to wonder about it, so he simply approached the doors and shut them tight. He turned around again and nearly fainted when he saw a man he'd never seen before standing in front of his fireplace.
    With a gasp for air, Edric faced the intruder and asked, “Did the Serpent send you?”
    The man turned away from the fireplace and walked forward. Now that the lit candle next to the Count's bed shone upon the strangers face, Edric could see that he was an assassin unlike the rest. He was not clad in black, at least not entirely, but had gray and blue clothing covering his dark, scarred skin and on his belt, he wore a silver and blue scimitar. His hair was pale blonde and his eyes were a rich aquamarine. His pointed ears indicated some kind of Elvish heritage.
    “He did,” the stranger said. “You may call me Tain.”
    Tain removed a dagger from his belt, which made Edric take several steps back in panic.
    Tain simply stared and uttered, “Calm down. I am not here to kill you . . .yet.”
    The Count boldly let his guard down. “The Serpent is quite cross with me, so you will have to forgive my suspicious nature.”
    “'Cross' isn't quite the word I'm looking for,” Tain said. He then began to twirl the small blade in his fingers and added, “Although it is a much nicer word than I would use.”
    “I take it that apprehending the fugitives has been less than successful?” Edric asked, making his way to his chair.
    “The ambush in Birhog proved to be no match for them. The men we sent to kill them in Virland were unable to kill them as well,” Tain explained. “What's more, now they've figured