DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [3]
Bardon walked slowly, in no hurry to commence these weighty meditations. He’d been so sure knighthood was his calling. Obviously, his unknown father had desired this future for his son, or he wouldn’t have left him at The Hall. But as Bardon trained under Sir Dar, he began to realize that the lofty words servant to Paladin actually meant “servant to mankind.”
The idea of serving the noble ruler of Amara had a pristine quality to it. In reality, this serving meant forever dealing with the sullied high races. Instead of walking on a more elevated plane than the average citizen, Bardon found himself mingling with and humbling himself for an unappreciative, uneducated, ratty populace.
“People,” he muttered. “Way too many people.”
He reached the door of the cabin, and without putting down either bundle, he awkwardly lifted the latch. He nudged the heavy wooden plank open with his foot and stepped into the dimly lit room. His nose twitched. He smelled what could have been a hot meal eaten not long before. With shoulders tensed, he lowered his burden to the floor and put a hand on his sword hilt.
The cabin didn’t feel right. Abandoned for over a year, the interior should have had a musty odor. Dust motes floated in sunbeams shining through polished windows. A door stood open to a small bedroom.
Bardon crossed the main room silently and peered in at two made beds. A simple dress hung on a peg on the wall. A set of shelves held other feminine clothing folded neatly.
He scanned the room. No one lurked in the shadows. He turned to search the rest of the small cabin. Two other rooms didn’t seem to be in use. But it was abundantly clear the kitchen area and the sitting room had accommodated someone earlier in the day.
He marched out of the house and asked Greer if he had seen or heard anyone in the immediate vicinity. The dragon had not, but took to the sky for a scouting trip. The young squire soon had an answer.
What do you mean, ‘uh-oh’? Bardon glared at the flying dragon. Two women, one very old and one young? He frowned. What are they doing?
Bardon didn’t appreciate the dragon’s comments on how delicious the berries would be when the women returned with two basketfuls.
I doubt they are picking enough to satisfy your appetite.
He turned on his heel and tramped back into the house, snatching up his bundles as he went through the door.
Sir Dar gave me permission to occupy this house, and this is where I am going to stay! These women are certainly not here because they were invited.
He carried his possessions through the sitting room and into the second unoccupied bedroom. He tossed the bags on the bed and went out to haul in the rest of his provisions. In a deliberate surge of activity, he stowed all his belongings. Then, packing a wire, a bottle with a cork stopper, and a hunk of cheese in a knapsack, he went out to the lake. He stopped to whack off a slender, five-foot-long branch from a borling tree, then picked off its smaller limbs as he walked.
The nutty scent of the wood soothed his agitation. Survival skills had been his favorite part of training. He relished the fresh air, the music of woodland noises, and the busyness of living off the land.
I will enjoy these months alone. At this moment, I will focus on what is at hand.
Thank You, Wulder, for Your gift of this time and this place.
A rock outcropping jutted into the water. Bardon clambered over a pile of smooth boulders and sat on a ledge. Settling into a comfortable position with his feet dangling over the water, he pulled out a string and the wire from his pocket. With nimble fingers, he fashioned a hook from the wire and attached it to the string, then the string to the pole. In a matter of minutes, he threw a fishing line with the cork from his bottle into the water.
Greer ambled toward the rocky ridge to sit within a few yards on the grassy bank. Bardon tried to ignore the ripple