Arden (Mages of the Flame #1) FIRST DRAFT

Part 19: Donovan

They guessed the direction of the farm from the little Morrigan had told Bronwyn of the huge stranger who had delivered food and other items for the camp. Fortunately their guess was the right one, and only a short ride later they found its northern edge even as dawn found them. The fields were dotted with golden stacks of hay from the harvest, and they could see the farm coming to life with every step closer they took.

By the time they reached the farmhouse workers were already scurrying about, feeding, sweeping and cleaning out. It reminded Bronwyn she was glad she never had to work on a farm. It wasn't the work per se, the constant attention her wards needed from her was in some ways just the same responsibility a farmer had to his animals but they smell was much more pleasant.

"Which one is Morrigan's friend?" Lydia asked as they approached the workers milling about. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

"He's hard to forget. You'll see."

"What do you mean."

"Have you ever lost a bull in a field of sheep?"

"How can anyone do that?"

"They can't."

"Oh. Then I think I see him." Lydia pointed at the farmhouse doorway which was almost filled by the man they were looking for. "A man like that could defeat the Mages on his own!" she added.

"If they need defeating," said Bronwyn. She dropped from the back of the horse to the bare-earth path and approached the farmhouse. In daylight she could see the man clearly for the first time. His size was the first impression he gave. And maybe the last if he was angry, thought Bronwyn. At more than a head taller than her he must have been at least six feet. But his height was only one part of what made him so imposing. His shoulders were twice her size as well and he stood in the doorway like a hundred year old oak. Formidable and immovable. Even his gaze was intimidating. Bronwyn felt like she was a child again, walking to the front of class to be told off for some childish prank.

If this man was a king, Bronwyn thought, everyone would follow him.

She swallowed, surprised at her own nerves and offered her most gracious smile well aware that she had not bathed in three days or slept in two.

"Good morning, I am Bronwyn of the Flame, Guardian of the Peace."

The man nodded, and bit into an apple the way Bronwyn would bite into a plum.

"Aye, it might still be at that. Depends on your business here, Mage."

"We met two mornings ago at Rowan's Keep. You delivered provisions for Morrigan's camp."

"Three."

"Three what?"

"It was three mornings ago." He finished the flesh of the apple in three bites, then ate the core in a fourth. He looked at Lydia who was in the process of dismounting. He nodded in her direction. "She was not there. Only you."

"That's right. She is from the Dale-"

"I am not blind, Mage."

"We are here about Morrigan."

"He has enough to last the week. Why did he send you here?"

"He didn't! Listen, we are here because-"

"The Mages have him," interrupted Lydia.

The man had stopped chewing but Bronwyn could see the muscles in his jaw clench as he ground his teeth. He stepped back into the house, opening the doorway for them.

"Tell me," he said.

When Lydia had finished telling her story, with little input from Bronwyn, the man planted his massive hands on the table they sat around before replying.