Legendary Warrior (Warrior 1)

Her breath caught in anticipation, and she clung tightly to her meager sack. She almost gasped at the sight of him. She had expected a beast and instead saw beauty. She had not thought a man’s face could be beautiful, but his was a work of art—every bone, each muscle, the texture blended perfectly together.

She could imagine drawing his face, the ease with which the charcoal would flow, and all because he was crafted so magnificently. And coloring, his eyes were the deepest of browns, like the rich soil just before planting, and his long hair was a lighter shade of brown with streaks the color of golden wheat raging through it. And tall, he was so very tall, at least a head past most men. And his expression?

Thomas quietly voiced her thoughts. “He is angry.”

The Legend removed his black leather gloves and tossed them on top of the helmet before walking over to Thomas.

“The reason for this lad’s foolishness.”

It was not a question; it was a demand, and Reena suddenly wondered if she truly was foolish for thinking she could convince such a powerful man to help her. But then, she was here; she had made it this far into the Legend’s home, she could not retreat now.

She stepped from behind Thomas before the large man could answer, and she removed her cap, a gesture of respect and to clarify her gender. She did not wish the Legend thinking that she deliberately deceived him.

Her long hair spilled down around her shoulders, and she pushed the silky dark strands behind her ears, away from her face.

His response was to cross his arms over his broad chest and stare at her.

No simple stare, but one that intimidated her to the depths of her soul. Without speaking a word, he demanded an explanation.

She gathered every ounce of courage she had. “A lad fairs better on the road than a lass with no companion. A lad’s garb was as necessary as my journey here. I have come to ask for your help.”

The Legend looked her over. “What man in your village would allow a bit of a lass like you to journey on her own?”

“It was my choice,” she said, a defensive edge to her tone.

“Do you always make unwise decisions?”

She clung tightly to her cap to keep her hands from trembling and her anger from flaring. “I make necessary decisions. My village is starving. We have lost two people already; I will see no more die.”

He remained silent for a moment as though in contemplation. “Come join me in food and drink while we discuss this matter?”

The scent of the roasting lamb that cooked on the spit in the hearth had her mouth watering, as did the full platter of breads and cheeses, and she was hungry, having taken only a meager portion of food from her deprived village.

She could not deny her hunger, but the guilt of filling her belly while those she cared about starved caused her pain. “I would be grateful for your hospitality.”

The Legend walked to the table nearest the hearth, but before he sat, a plump little puppy came running into the great hall and jumped up and down in front of the dark lord, happy to see him. The Legend ordered him to sit, but the puppy ignored his edict and continued jumping.

The Legend attempted again to make the puppy obey, but it was futile; the plump animal intended to have his way. The Legend shook his head and sat with the puppy cuddling at his feet.

Thomas took a seat beside the Legend, and Reena sat across from the two men. Ale was poured, bread broken and sliced lamb was served before any words were exchanged.

“Your name?” Once again the Legend ordered.

“Reena,” she answered after hastily swallowing a bite of delicious black bread.

“I am Magnus.” He offered her his hand, a show of respect she appreciated.

She took his hand, her small one insignificant compared to the size of his, and she realized he softened his handshake to accommodate her meager strength.

“Now what is it you want from me?”

This was why she had come here, and she had to make certain she succeeded. Otherwise, her village would be doomed.

“My village is starving, though our harvest is bountiful. Philip Kilkern, earl of Culberry, was a fair and decent landlord, but he passed unexpectedly, and his property went to his nephew Peter Kilkern, who is not at all fair and definitely not decent. He demands the impossible from his tenants and forbids us to hunt on his land—and he strikes out without provocation. We are at his mercy, for many fear his heavy retributions.”

“Why come to me?”

Reena felt his question fair, and he asked it without malice or disregard to her plight—he simply wanted a reasonable explanation. She gave it.