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Back Forsworn
Chapters (53)
  1. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area- Western Half
  2. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Eastern Half
  3. Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Full Map
  4. Important Trigger Warning
  5. Prologue
  6. PART I
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Interlude: The River of Life
  20. PART II
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Seventeen
  26. Eighteen
  27. Nineteen
  28. Interlude: Fallow Fields
  29. PART III
  30. Twenty
  31. Twenty-One
  32. Twenty-Two
  33. Twenty-Three
  34. Twenty-Four
  35. Twenty-Five
  36. Interlude: Of Man and Monster
  37. PART IV
  38. Twenty-Six
  39. Twenty-Seven
  40. Twenty-Eight
  41. Twenty-Nine
  42. Thirty
  43. Thirty-One
  44. Thirty-Two
  45. Thirty-Three
  46. Thirty-Four
  47. POSTLUDES
  48. Postlude 1: Lana Vica
  49. Postlude 2: Ludo Vica
  50. Postlude 3: Cainan
  51. Acknowledgments
  52. An excerpt from Heartsworn, Volume II in The Forsworn Oath, available for preorder now!
  53. PART I

Still the horse resisted, going so far as to back up a few steps, feet stamping hoofprints into the soft earth. With a sigh, Bryony dismounted, careful not to drop the lead. She gave it a tug and said, “See? Nothing to worry about. I’ll walk beside you.”

With a suddenness that caught her by surprise, Lena snapped at her hand. Bryony cried out and dropped the rope. Before she knew what was happening, the horse had wheeled about, kicking up dust and rocks, and then charged in the opposite direction at a full gallop. “What was that?” Bryony asked herself, wincing as she inspected the damage from the bite. Blood welled up from where the skin had been broken and her hand felt sore and bruised. “Damn horse.”

The dark shirt she wore was relatively new and had been tailored to fit her perfectly, so it pained her almost as much as the horse bite to tear off a long strip just below her waist. Thank the gods she’d had her belongings slung over her shoulder and not attached to her horse’s kit. Thus, she had one spare shirt rolled into her bag but was hoping to save it until this one could be laundered. In any case, the damage was done, so she wrapped the makeshift bandage around her wounded hand, tying it tightly enough to stem the flow of blood. When she was finished, she tested the mobility of her fingers by closing them into a fist and then opening them. Satisfied she wouldn’t be adversely affected in a fight, she eyed the thick brambles that stood like a naturally formed wall before her.

What was her horse so afraid of?

Chuckling to herself, she strode into the forest, shoving aside branches and foliage as she focused on walking in a straight line. The temperature seemed to immediately drop as the wood embraced her, a chill drawing itself over her skin like a frozen sheet. She shivered, focusing on planting each foot carefully to avoid tripping on the plethora of roots and vines strewn across her path. Maybe it was the unexpected cold, or the obtrusive and unrelenting press of the forest, but Bryony felt a wrongness about this place that seemed to cling to her like a cursed mist.

Her plan at the start of this journey was to hug the coastline until she reached Kestrel. After a brief stoppage, she would turn inland eastward and cut a path toward Slough. From there, Comman Dur was an arduous two-week journey through the hill lands north of Oath.