Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
What would cause a man to kill an entire family?
And not any man but his teacher, who had willingly shared his wisdom with his student.
She feared that he could provide no justifiable answer. If not, what then would she do?
Her mind needed settling. She could do nothing now, but later she would question him, and she would expect an answer. She began to draw, and in no time her hands flew fast and furiously and her mind numbed; she was lost in her mapping.
They rode on to another area, little conversation passing between them, and stopped for a light midday fare. They rested near a stream, spreading out a cloth that held meat and bread. The Legend had walked off, leaving Reena with his men. She did not share in their conversation but listened to humorous tales of their adventures.
An elderly man and woman looking worn from traveling on foot approached them cautiously. The woman appeared ready to collapse, and Reena was quick to stand and offer them rest and sustenance.
The man repeatedly thanked Reena for her generosity, and the woman looked ready to weep as they eagerly walked over to Reena. But a sudden abruptness halted their steps and fear filled their eyes, and Reena knew that the Legend had walked up behind her.
The man slipped his arm around the trembling woman, and with a courteous bow of his head he whispered, “My lord.”
A strong command left no doubt as to what they should do. “Join us.”
Reena thought about making conversation with the pair to help alleviate their fear, but the two ate as if they had not eaten in weeks and kept their eyes lowered, though they did remain huddled close to each other.
“Your destination?” Magnus more demanded than asked.
Reena admired the way the man met Magnus eye to eye, though his voice trembled some.
“My wife Beth and I search for a home. Being older and my hands—” He stopped and looked at his wrinkled and gnarled hands as if he did not recognize them. He shook his head. “I cannot create the fine bows and arrows I once did, so I am useless.”
“A skill is never useless,” Magnus said.
“A skill is only good if you can make use of it,” the man said with disgust.
“Then use your skill the one way you can.”
“How?” the elderly man asked, sounding hopeful that perhaps he was of some use after all.
“Teach what you know.” Magnus sent a signal to one of his men, who walked off into the woods without a word.
The man shook his head. “To who? Most villagers and lords have a bowman.”
“Skilled or not, there is always something to learn. I would be honored to have you share your knowledge with my bowman and do whatever you can to assist him. A cottage and food is included in the offer if you are interested.”
His wife cried softly, and the elderly man stood a little prouder. “I am John, and I accept your generous offer. I will do my share and serve you well, my lord.”
“I have no doubt you will. We must be on our way, but you are to wait here. Two of my men will return shortly and escort you to my keep. Once there, Thomas will see to your needs.”
“Bless you, Legend,” the woman said, her tears falling hard.
Magnus acknowledged her gratitude with a brief nod, then walked to his horse, ordering his men to mount.
Reena went to her horse realizing he’d left the food for the elderly couple to take with them. He lifted her to her horse, and as two of the Legend’s men walked out of the woods, the Legend, Reena and his men rode off.
She smiled, thinking of what a good man he was. Then she recalled his confession of murder, and she shivered.
“You are cold?” he asked. “A chill still clings to the air, spring has yet to fully blossom.”
“A slight chill, nothing more.”
“I have a heavy cloak if you need it,” he offered.
She looked over at him where he rode beside her, so large and terrifying all in black, his face mostly concealed by the helmet. Yet he was concerned for her well-being.
He cared for her and she cared for him. She could not be foolish and allow her doubts to cloud her emotions. She needed to seek her answers and understand. So her question was asked not out of curiosity but from a loving heart.
“Tell me about your teacher and his family.”
He stared at her for a silent moment, an indication he was deep in thought. Part of him wished he could remain there, in his mind.
Few knew the true story behind the tale that had earned him the title of the Legend. It was not something he wished to discuss or remember, and it certainly was not a tale he wished were true. By the time the story had traveled to his homeland it had grown into a legend—a legend that was far from the truth.