Winding Deep: Book One of the Red Chronicles

The life of an assassin turned thief is rarely dull and Red has more trouble than she bargained for with a contract on her head, assassins behind every bush, an enigmatic tavern with a mind of its own and the cult of Medeana showing far too much interest in her. A stranger’s quest will lead her and new friends to a remote cave and a mystery that could endanger not only them, but the world.

The Red Chronicles Book 1

Winding Deep

By Kurrie Hoyt

Cover art by Cole MacLean

Map by Thomas Evans

Published by Kurrie Hoyt at Smashwords

Copyright 2014

Also by Kurrie Hoyt:

The Hunter Trilogy

Sereine

Caelestis

An Alex and Jamie Novel

Shifting Sands

From Bad to Verse - a Poetry Anthology

The Red Chronicles

Winding Deep

Forward

This book and some of her characters would not be possible without two extraordinary and well-loved friends; Nick and Kevin. Red, Rider and Grond were born as characters in the world of the Elder Scrolls. Specifically, they were and sometimes still are, part of a long-time, ongoing written role play.

When I first thought to bring Red to life in a novel, I chose Winding Deep as its setting. It’s a world I created over fifteen years ago to be used for AD&D that never saw the light of day. I was excited to finally give all that hard work a voice, sat down to write it and realized… I could no longer picture Red without her friends; Rider and Grond. Nick and Kevin were kind enough to give me the use of their characters’ namesakes for this world and I can never thank them enough. They inspired Red to become a better person and I hope I’ve given them voices they can be proud of here. Rider and Grond are Red’s best friends as Nick and Kevin are mine. I love you, boys. Thank you.

A special thank you to Janice for the time and effort she puts into cleaning up my atrocious punctuation for you and fellow author and friend, Thomas Evans. He went through this with me while I was writing and helped me craft a better story. Also, I think he may have fallen a little in love with Red during the writing of this, the poor dear. So much so, he took up the arduous task of drafting a worthy map from the mess I hastily scrawled for him.

Chapter 1

She rode calmly through the woods ahead of her killer, letting the wind move her scarlet tresses around her face and unmindful as her shoulder-length hair obscured her vision for a moment. She knew where her assassin was. She could hear him, the idiot, trudging through the old undergrowth like a novice. He had obviously made the mistake of believing the noise from her horse’s hooves would hide his steps. She smirked and leaned forward to pat the side of her horse’s neck.

That’s my boy, Savior, she said softly into his white mane and smiled. Nice and leisurely until he comes to us. She chuckled as her sturdy Appaloosa pony pawed the ground and nodded his understanding. She leaned back in the saddle as they neared a dense copse of trees and readied herself. Slow and steady, boy. She waited for the perfect moment as they pushed through a screen of leafy branches and slipped soundlessly from Savior’s saddle, knowing the man stalking them couldn’t see her and wouldn’t until she wanted him to. She didn’t move. She simply let herself become one with the trees, sinking into the deep shadow of the forest provided by the heavy branches above. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the hilt of the dagger strapped to her thigh, the Dread Blade. A whisper of a voice eased through her mind with its touch as it always had, but now she pushed it away and did not listen.

It took several minutes before a shadow darker than the trees pushed into the bushes beside her, but he came. She rolled her eyes for the noise of his coming and waited until he had walked blithely past her, following Savior’s progress ahead. She saw the moment he realized she was no longer in the saddle in the tightening of his shoulders and the way he almost seemed to jerk in surprise, and then she was on him. She took his shoulder with her left hand, kicked out his knees, and rode him and his surprised shout into the ground until he was on his stomach with her straddling his back and holding him immobile. She slid the Dread Blade from its sheathe and pressed the dagger with its ancient etchings into his throat.

You won’t kill me, Red! He said suddenly and twisted his head enough to meet her moss green eyes. You don’t do that anymore. He chuckled breathlessly against the press of the knife. You’re a thief now.

Red looked down at him and pressed her blade more surely into his throat. I don’t kill when I work for the Thieves Brotherhood, she corrected him. She leaned down and smiled into his paling face. I’m not working for the Brotherhood today. She twisted his left arm painfully when she felt him attempt to struggle and waited until he stopped, realizing he had no chance. Should I let you live? You came to kill me, after all. When he opened his mouth, Red wiggled her blade against his throat. Uh-uh. No lies now. You know who I am and what I used to be.

He seemed to deflate before her eyes and closed his own. Kill me then.

Red nodded sadly, resigned to the knowledge that killing him was the only thing that would keep him from coming for her again. Die well, she said softly and stood from him as she pulled the Dread Blade over his throat. He died with little sound save a soft gasp. Red bent and wiped her dagger’s blade clean on a fold of his shirt and slid it home with a shiver of distaste for the feeling of approval it sent through her before she pushed it into the sheathe. Anger welled up inside her, her now-familiar friend, and she whistled softly. Savior returned giving the dead man only a passing sniff before he came to her and bumped his head into his rider’s chest with a soft whuffle of affection.

Red chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck before moving to his side and throwing herself back up into the saddle. She looked down at the dead man and his black, leathery armor. He would have died anyway. At least this way, it was fast. Come on, boy. Red kneed her horse into a walk, eager to be away from that place and find somewhere safe to bed down. She let Savior take his lead and go where he liked, trusting in him to aim her toward civilization somewhere. She had never been this far north before. Red knew she was somewhere deep into the Imperium’s province but had no idea where she was going.

Away, Red said with a soft, bitter laugh. We’re going away. Just find me somewhere, boy. She had long passed the Emperor’s city, almost a week ago, watching the spires of the palace fade behind her and had felt a brief moment of nostalgia. She had nearly stopped there. The Thieves Brotherhood would have taken her in, would even have tried to hide her if she asked, and she smiled. Cyrus would have taken her down the Old Way beneath the city, and, while she would have enjoyed the company of the Brotherhood’s leader, he wouldn’t have lasted long. Red’s smile faded with the reality that she was a marked woman and didn’t know why.

The day’s light faded to twilight as she rode, rolling half-asleep in the saddle with Savior’s gentle stride through the forest. He’d found a narrow dirt track and followed it, avoiding each dip in the uneven ground to keep his rider safely in her seat. The track widened, following through an arbor of trees, and Savior threw his head up with a whinny, jerking her from her doze.

Red pulled her chin up from her chest with Savior’s noise and looked around in surprise. Where’ve you found, boy? There was a clearing with a long stable on one side. Several horses grazed in the fenced paddock, and on the other side, loomed a large building. A wide door stood in the front with a crazy quilt of roofs that said the interior must have been designed by a drunkard or a mad man. A sign hung in the yard with two mugs of ale, but if the name of the place had ever graced it, it was long since weathered away by time.

Red kneed Savior over to the fence and slid from the saddle. Don’t go anywhere. She patted his neck and turned to the building. She tugged a leather tie from her wrist and pulled her bright hair back, tying it loosely as she strode for the door and pushed inside. Red felt a small smile pulling at her mouth as she took in the large taproom of what was obviously a tavern. A long, u-shaped bar in sturdy, well-worn wood took up the wall on her right with doors she assumed led to the kitchens. On her left, past a row of tables, was a massive hearth that stood even with her head, and a fire crackled merrily inside, outlining the several comfortable-looking chairs pulled up close to it. A stair at the back of the room led up out of sight, and she watched as a dark-haired, attractive man in a ranger’s coat strode down them. She could just make out the glint of chainmail beneath his shirt as he moved, and danger seemed to hang around him in an almost visible aura. He was no stranger to death.

Welcome to The Tavern, traveler.

Red turned to the bar and saw an older man smiling at her with a mug held out. She went to the bar and took it. What’s this place called?

Oh, if she’s got a name, she ain’t never told us. He winked at her. I’m Arlow. You hungry, miss? My brother Wilson’s in the kitchen. Cooks a damn fine meat pie. Wilson!

Red watched bemused as another man emerged from the kitchens at his yell. You’re twins. Both men were tall and heavy-set with dark brown eyes in tanned faces, but where Arlow’s salt and pepper hair hung shaggily about his face, his twin’s was cropped close to his skull.

Aye, but I’m the better lookin’ one, Arlow assured her over his shoulder with another wink. The young miss needs food. Do somethin’ useful.

Damn sight more useful than you, you great oaf, Wilson growled, shook his head, and then smiled at Red. Find a spot to sit and I’ll bring you out a tray.

Where am I exactly? Red asked and sipped at her mug. Her brows rose in appreciation for the rich ale.

The Tavern, miss, Arlow said as if that should be all she needed. He judged by the scowl moving across her face that he’d teased far enough and smiled. You’re north of the Emperor’s Preserve. The only city of any note near here is Winding Deep, and that’s a half day’s ride to the east. He shrugged. An’ you should know that two days to the west is the Rift.

That close? Red asked in surprise. Thank you. She took her ale and headed for the hearth, ignoring the curious looks of the few other patrons on her way. The Rift was a great chasm that bisected the whole of the continent and, so sailors had told her, even extended out into the ocean. Venturing too far down into it was generally considered death, and crossings were only made by sea or the few bridges between narrow spans of the crevasse. She wondered that anyone would build a place like this so close to the Rift with the vile creatures that often spilled from its depths.

Red took the chair closest to the fire and breathed a soft sigh of relief as the warmth washed over her. She missed the clinging warmth of her homeland each time winter neared in the Imperium. She frowned, realizing that, for the first time, she was far enough north to actually experience the truth of winter, the cold and the snow, and she wasn’t sure she liked that idea. The Eider Marshes provided a hard life in a clinging heat that rarely broke.

Here you are, miss. Wilson quirked a brow at the redhead as she seemed to shiver. This’ll warm you right up.

Thank you, Red managed a smile for the steaming bowl set on the table beside her. Are there any rooms free?

Wilson chuckled. Aye, there’s always a room for those as need one.

Red stared while he walked away for the strange answers she kept receiving in regards to this tavern. This is a very strange place. She watched interestedly as the ranger went to the bar and took her place, curious what one of his kind would be doing here. Red didn’t think they crossed the Rift often, being from a province on the far side as they were.

Rider. Are you leavin’ again? Arlow asked the ranger with a smile and a soft nod toward the fire. That one’s got something lurkin’ after her, you know.

I’m aware, The ranger laughed softly and pointedly didn’t look over his shoulder at the attractive red-haired woman, though he could feel her eyes on his back. She’s prickly.

Arlow chuckled and shook his head. You do have a gift for understatement. Pretty sure that one could leave your head in want of your body and not break a sweat.

The ranger snorted and this time did turn enough to peer at her. There was something about the woman that made him want to poach on her personal space until she softened. He had the distinct feeling that she was in need of a friend whether she knew it herself yet or not.