The Viscount and the Witch (Riyria #1.5)

Hadrian dismounted and glanced at his friend.


“What are you doing?” Royce asked.

“It will only take a minute,” Hadrian replied.

Royce sighed. The sigh was new. “You don’t know this woman. This isn’t your problem.”

“I know that.”

“So why are you helping her?”

“Because that’s what people do. They help each other. If you saw a man lying in the road with an arrow in him, you’d stop, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Royce replied, “anyone would. A wounded man is easy pickings, unless you could see from your saddle that someone else has already taken his purse.”

“What? No! No one would rob a wounded man and leave him to die.”

Royce nodded. “Well, no. You’re right. If he has a purse and you take it, it’s best to slit his throat afterward. Too many people live through arrow wounds, and you don’t want the bugger recovering and coming after you.”

The old woman looked at Royce aghast.

Now it was Hadrian’s turn to sigh. “Don’t mind him; he was raised by wolves.”

Royce sat with his arms folded and a glare in his eyes.

“It’s a beautiful afternoon and we’re in no hurry. Besides, you’re always complaining about my cooking. I’m sure you’ll be happier with her meal. I’m just going to have a quick talk with this guy.” Hadrian added in a whisper. “He’s probably just some poor fella desperate for shelter. I’ll bet that if I can get the two of them to talk, we can work this all out. I can probably get her to hire the guy to help while her husband is away. The woman will get a helping hand, and he’ll get some food and a place to sleep. What’s more we’ll get a hot meal, so everybody wins.”

“And when this good deed ends in disaster will you listen to me next time and let people take care of their own problems?”

“Sure, but it’ll be fine. He’s just one guy. Even if he’s completely unreasonable, I think we can handle a drunken squatter.”

Being early spring, the road was a muddy mess. Patches of snow still hid in the shadows of rocks and the trees were just beginning to sprout small leaves. Still the birds were back. Hadrian was always surprised by their songs—how much he missed them, and how shocked he was that he never noticed their absence until they returned.

Just as foretold, around the next bend was a farmhouse, if it could be called that. All of the homesteads they previously passed had been neat white-washed cottages with thatch roofs that stood out brightly against the season’s new green. Each had fields already ploughed and sown. The woman’s farm was a dilapidated shack of withered boards and tilting fences. Rising on his stirrups, Hadrian could not see a tilled field anywhere.

“The barn is just down the hill that way,” she pointed. “You can see the roof. If you like, I’ll set your horses to some grain and water and start making your meal.”

“You say it was just the one man?” Hadrian asked as he slipped off his horse and let the woman take the leads.

She nodded.

Hadrian, who already wore two swords hanging from his belt, unstrapped a long spadone blade from the side of his horse. Slipping the baldric over his shoulder, he let the massive sword hang across his back. It was the only way the sword could be carried. The spadone was a knight’s weapon, intended to be used on horseback. If he wore it on his side, the tip dragged.

“That’s a lot of steel for one drunken fool,” the woman said.

“Force of habit,” Hadrian replied.

Royce dismounted alongside him, touching down with his right foot, then more gingerly with his left. He opened his pack and rummaged around for a bit. The woman waited until he finished, then with a final round of gratitude, she took both horses up to the house leaving Royce and Hadrian in the farmyard.

A fieldstone well, formed the centerpiece of the open space between the house and the outbuildings and down a slope stood the barn. The whole place was badly overgrown with knee-high grass and dandelions going to seed. Royce paused a moment and sat on the foundation of what looked to have been a small building—a chicken coop most likely as it was too little for much else. He lifted his left foot and examined it. Hadrian could see a row of puncture marks in the soft leather.

“How's your foot?” Hadrian asked.

“It hurts.”

“He had a good hold.”

“Bit right through my boot.”

“Yeah, that looked painful.”

“So why exactly didn't you help?”

Hadrian shrugged. “It was a dog, Royce. A cute, little dog. What did you want me to do, kill an innocent little animal?”

Royce tilted his head, squinting into the light of the late evening sun to focus on his friend. “Is that a joke?”

“It was a puppy.”

“It was not a puppy, and it was eating my foot.”

“Yeah, but you were invading his home.”

Royce frowned and let his foot drop. “Let’s go see about this barn-invading ogre of yours.”

The two headed down the grassy slope that was graced with a bounty of white and yellow wildflowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. Honeybees were still out working, droning between the daisies, bishop’s lace, and wild carrots. Hadrian smiled. At least someone was hard at work farming the land here. As they approached the barn, they found it in no better shape than the house.

“You know, you didn't have to throw it out the window,” Hadrian said as they walked.

Royce, who was still preoccupied with his foot, looked up. “What did you want me to do with it? Scratch behind the little monster’s ears as it gnawed my toes off? What if it started barking? That would have been a fine mess.”

“It's a good thing there was a moat right under the window.”

Royce stopped. “There was?”

Now was Hadrian’s turn to scowl. At times like this he could never be certain whether Royce was serious or not. They had worked together for almost a year, but he was still trying to understand his new partner. One thing was certain—Royce Melborn was by far the most interesting person he had ever met but also the hardest to get to know.

They reached the barn, which was made of wood and fieldstone and supported a straw roof. The whole structure lurched to the side, its eaves leaning against the trunk of an old maple. Several of the clapboards were gone, and the thatch roof was missing in places. The double doors hung open, but all Hadrian could see inside was darkness.

“Hello?” Hadrian called. He pushed the doors wide and peered in. “Anyone here?”

Royce was no longer behind him. He often disappeared at times like this. Being more adept at stealth, Royce enjoyed using Hadrian for the noisy distraction he was.

There was no answer.

Hadrian drew a sword and stepped inside.