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Back Heir to Sevenwaters Save as PDF
Chapters (22)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. CHAPTER 1
  6. CHAPTER 2
  7. CHAPTER 3
  8. CHAPTER 4
  9. CHAPTER 5
  10. CHAPTER 6
  11. CHAPTER 7
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. CHAPTER 15
  20. CHAPTER 16
  21. CHAPTER 17
  22. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A familiar, eldritch cry rang out in the forest. Beyond the barrier of thorn, something moved. My skin rose in goose bumps. I sat very still, peering into the darkness, wondering if it had been only a bird or a fox. Perhaps Dog Mask had come to check up on us. But maybe it was something else. Maybe that thing that cried so forlornly was crouched right next to the hedge. I was supposed to be on watch. I got slowly to my feet, my heart thumping. I couldn’t wake Cathal every time the leaves shook in the breeze. On the other hand, if there was a threat I shouldn’t just sit here and wait for it to arrive. I bent and took hold of a burning stick from the fire, wincing as a splinter speared the skin of my hand. I walked in the general direction of the gate, the makeshift torch casting a wayward light over my path. It wasn’t far; the arch of twisted branches soon came into view. The gate stood closed. I had no intention of venturing outside it without our guide. I stood four paces away and lifted my torch as high as I could.

Beyond the thorn hedge, the forest seemed empty of all life. The wailing had ceased. Nothing stirred; no bird uttered a sleepy call, no hedgehog or mouse made a rustling progress through the leaf litter. I was about to lower the brand and retreat to the fire when I saw them: a procession of gray-cloaked figures moving with slow purpose around the perimeter of our enclosure. Each walked alone. They maintained a distance of about four strides from one another. Their footfalls were silent; they passed like shadows. What were they doing? Patrolling the hedge to keep us safe, to ward off intruders? Or ensuring we stayed confined? One thing was certain: their great height marked these minders out as no kin of Dog Mask. In the tales, the Old Ones were always described as squat and small.

My eyes were becoming accustomed to the odd light, the flickering cast by the fire stick, the shadowy darkness around and beyond the gate. The walkers in the forest were deeply hooded; I could see nothing of their faces. Here and there the burning brand caught a pinpoint of light, as of a bright eye, and here and there a long-fingered white hand showed against the gray of a garment. I thought I could hear a sound of slow breathing. I felt the chill of the uncanny deep inside me and was afraid.

“Come out,” someone whispered. “Open the gate. You want your brother, don’t you? Come and fetch him.”

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12