Guard

Guard

By

Diane J Cornwell

Book Two of the Tracker Series

Guard

Copyright © 2016 by Diane J Cornwell

All rights reserved.

Published 2016 by Tift Publishing at Smashwords

Book and cover design copyright © 2016 by Tift Publishing

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. All rights reserved.

Tift Publishing

www.tiftpublishing.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About the Author

Discover Other Titles

Chapter 1

Dallas Wood trusted the well oiled, leather stirrup straps would hold when he tightened his leg muscles and placed all his weight on his stirrups so that he could raise his buttocks out of the saddle. Tired muscles from riding his dun tracker mare, Swift, for the past two days around the southern property boundary eased.

Leather creaked but held. The time he spent over the past week checking and repairing saddles, halters and reins, used by both Swift and Sweetie, were well oiled with no rubbed or cracked areas.

He smiled at one of his mother’s sayings, that a little care and attention stopped many an accident. She was right, even though he was not alone on this last planned circuit before snow and ice made travel too dangerous.

He arched his back to stretch his spine, before he settled back in the saddle. He ignored the fleeting sounds of humming insects carried on the wind, and the muddy smell emitted from puddles left from the last storm while he studied the valley below the hill where he stopped Swift.

Part of his last ride before winter set in included confirming all was well with the outlying shepherds and their families, including enough fodder for the stock and food for the shepherds, watertight barns and anything else that would hinder birthing healthy lambs come spring.

Satisfied with the peace and quiet of the valley, he studied the cluster of houses below while Swift waited patiently, ears forward and eyes searching for any hint of a silvery glow warning of a magical attack.

Dallas, warm inside his brown cloak, ignored the cold breeze as best he could, but squinted to stop the wind drying his eyes. Something was different from his visit a month earlier.

The three lowset wooden buildings, huddled close together on the northern side of the large pond, seemed to be deserted. No clothes drying on lines. No smoke escaping the tall stone chimneys on the southern end of the buildings. But, of course, with the breeze blowing off the eastern mountains, any smoke would disappear before he could focus on it.

Three males herded five sheep towards the larger of the two wooden barns further up the slope behind the dwellings, ignoring the rest of the flock, who continued to graze the close cropped grass near the barns. More sheep grazed on the greener grass on the slope past the pond.

He tightened his gloved fingers around his dragonbane wood staff, resting in its saddle holder next to his left knee, while he studied the crests of each rolling hill. Nothing moved, except the branches and leaves of stunted bushes scattered among the longer grasses the sheep had not yet grazed.

The rest of the valley seemed to be settling in to wait out the coming winter cold.

He blinked to moisten his eyes but they dried again in the cold breeze. He sighed. The autumn wind was annoying, even though he was used to sleeping rough every season.

It was possible that the women and children could have finished their outside chores and retreated to the shelter of their homes earlier than normal.

Swift? His dun mare flicked her ears back, listening. Any sense of danger ahead?

Swift sent an image of her standing inside the smaller barn.

You will be warm and fed soon. He patted her neck.

Finally. Misty patted her mare’s neck. I thought I might freeze solid waiting. She smiled to take any sting out of her remark.

Dallas looked at Misty, sitting comfortably on Sweetie, another full tracker sired by Starlight, who was also Swift’s sire.

He knew Misty wore a black shirt and trousers, hidden under her black cape, but all he could see were the toes of her black leather boots, which were an old pair he grew out of years earlier. She assured him repeatedly the boots were the right size for her feet and not hurting. He still worried her feet were not healing as quickly as they should since she walked the skin off her feet to flee Lealand.

The only colour was the pale yellow beaded bangle his housekeeper Mim made for her because she admired the one Mim wore. He saw through her tough façade when tears welled in her eyes when she first saw her gift. He decided not to tell her he had spelled the beads to protect her from arrows or knives. It was the least he could do to help protect her from attacks while she resided on his property.

The hood of her cloak had blown off her head sometime in the past fifteen minutes, and clumps of her black hair waved in the breeze. She looked like a tired boundary rider seeking shelter for the night, not like an assassin waiting to strike.

From the first day he met her, he was aware of the knives and deadly throwing discs hidden in her clothes. And, he was certainly aware of how deadly she could be. He even had a scar on his shoulder to remind him if he ever forgot. Still, from her small stature and sweet smile, no one would guess she was dangerous, and that was the way he wanted it to remain.

Smiling back at her, he realised that to strangers she looked like a teenager venturing out into the world, seeing everything for the first time with a look of wonder or amazement on her face. But he knew different. Trained from a young age to kill, she had to be good at her profession because at twenty three, she was still alive.

He remembered the look of amazement when she saw a dragon fly west when they broke camp just after dawn. She smiled for the next hour remembering rays of sunlight reflecting off the fine webbing of the wings as the dragon soared.

Even though she decided to be his protector against attacks from either slavers or other mages, because he helped her escape her indenture to mages Crompton and Vince, he tried to remain alert when she was close. As his mother kept repeating, Misty could change her mind.

He hoped he would be quick enough to defend himself with ichur, if she changed her mind. He smiled again, remembering her attempt to stab him in Edgewood. He was pleased she decided to flee with him, because she was good company on the boundary rides, and the scar on his shoulder, from when she tried to kill him, only ached occasionally.

Keep alert, but try not to kill anyone. They do work for us. He gripped the reins in his right hand, allowing Swift to find her own way to the smaller barn around the slippery, muddy puddles .

Follow Swift, please Sweetie. Sweetie followed, without Misty using her reins.

Misty did not receive images from Sweetie, like Swift sent to him, and Misty could not see ichur, because she was not a mage, trained or untrained. She spoke and Sweetie decided whether to do as asked or not. Dallas guessed they had their own special magic.

He had to admit she was a better rider than she had been a month ago. He shuddered, remembering his decision to ride through the magical wall, not knowing if they would die or survive the experience.

The only reason he attempted crossing the barrier was to save Swift, and Arrow, Heath’s stallion, from capture by eastern mages. Both horses descended from the herd of horses grazing on the border when Convane’s mages created the wall that ran along the border dividing Leyland and Convane, all the way from northern Noristeen to Craggy Strait in the southern ocean.

The herd survived and thrived, crossing through the wall many times, a fact that was forgotten over the years by most Convane citizens.

He gambled on his horses doing the same thing, and they make it through alive, even Misty.

He bought his attention back to the present when Swift slipped on wet grass. Best to ride across the slope to the back of the barns instead of down to the pond.

Swift changed direction and Sweetie followed.

What were you thinking?

When? Dallas glanced back at Misty.

Just now. You have been silent since the dwellings came into view. She seemed relaxed, only swaying slightly each step Sweetie took.

Oh, just remembering our escape from the eastern mages. He raised one eyebrow. I am glad you decided to come with us.

Think my feet were too sore to care. She laughed. Wonder what Mage Vince is planning as revenge for removing his best assassin?

Training more?

Possible. Misty looked at the dwellings. Where is everyone?

I hope the women and children are inside their homes. He noticed two of the males had disappeared inside the larger barn, but the older man, Jeb, watched Dallas and Misty ride towards him.

Jeb nodded a greeting before Dallas dismounted.

Need help moving your flock inside? Dallas turned to help Misty out of her saddle, but she dismounted on her own, then stood next to Sweetie, holding the saddle until she could straighten her legs.

Only moving sick inside today. The shepherd shook his head. Never seen it before.

Sick? Want me to look at them? I may know a cure? Dallas waited for the male to nod before he walked into the large barn.

Swift followed, head up, smelling the air.

Misty and Sweetie were last inside, more to get out of the wind then to see the sick sheep. Sweetie sniffed, shook her head, and followed Swift across to the penned off area where the sheep milled around the two younger males.

Dallas heard a wheezing sound, and realised the sheep were struggling to breathe. He walked across the freshly swept, hard packed, dirt floor to the pen rail.

The shorter of the two younger males ran his hand down the neck of the closest sheep disturbing the layer of wool.

Dallas noticed a flicker of silver across the shoulder of the sheep, but it disappeared as the wool moved back and covered it.

Why place a spell on sheep? He climbed over the wooden rail and parted the wool. A finger wide band of ichur residue ran across the sheep’s shoulders. He moved the wool on the side of the sheep, ignoring the wheezing as it continued its struggle to breathe. The band of ichur residue ran down the side and disappeared under the sheep’s belly.

He straightened.

Swift and Sweetie had pushed the old shepherd aside so they could study the sheep Dallas inspected. Move back, Swift.

Swift raised her head and stepped back. Sweetie stepped back as well, but both twitched their ears, smelling the air for more ichur residue.

He climbed into the pen and checked three others, all labouring to breathe. They, too, had a faint trace of a silvery band around their chests. He inspected the rest but they did not have a silvery band. We need to separate those three from the rest.

The older male, Jeb, nodded agreement. Them three worse then the rest.

His two sons pushed the three sheep Dallas indicated across the pen to the wall, while Jeb opened the pen gate so the rest could leave. Never seen the like, not in autumn. Jeb rubbed his head. A bit of wheezing in winter, not in autumn.

Jeb’s sons shook their heads, agreeing with their father.

Dallas glanced at Misty, waiting near the door. She would alert him if anyone approached. He turned back to the older male. Have you had visitors in the past week?

None.

Da, we had a female visit three days ago. She wanted directions to Bordertown. The shorter male nodded once. Sent her south.

Was she near the sheep? Dallas wondered why a mage would want directions anywhere. A ruse? To get close to the sheep?

Watched her approach and leave. The thin male shook his head. Never touched a sheep.

Any kin sick? That could explain why he did not see the women or children outside when he rode up.

None. Inside chores away from wind. More sense ‘n us. Jeb laughed. Seen the like before?

Dallas shook his head. I would like to try a cure. But I would prefer Misty wait with the women in the warmth.

The older male thought for a moment, then nodded. Boys will assist. He walked across to Misty. Need to meet my family.

Misty looked across at Dallas.

Go with him. We could be a while here, and you will be warm inside the dwelling.

She glanced at Sweetie.

We will rub down the girls and feed them. You can help later when we look for tracks.

Misty nodded, then walked out the door.

Dallas wondered if he should send the males away or let them watch him remove the spell. Not that they would see anything, because neither were mages, and could not see ichur, the energy mages manipulated into spells. But all shepherds were gossips, happy to talk to visitors because they spent so much time alone with the sheep.

And the