Old Magic

This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me.

Not to know what happened before you were born is always to remain a child. For what is a man’s life if it is not linked with the life of future generations by memories of the past?

The cottages are full of life. It's incredible to think they are filled with people who know nothing of computerised technology, nor even running water, sewage systems or electricity. And yet here they live. Surviving.

The price for Jarrod's freedom is to be my imprisonment.

I recall the look in Rhauk's eyes the moment he spotted Kate. It will stay with me forever, carved into my brain like an engraving on a headstone. It's as if he found something he treasured, something he's been looking for all his life.

I did a research assignment on life in the Middle Ages only last year. I found the era fascinating, all that chivalry and court romance. But I never pictured anything as poor as this village. This is the pits. There's no romance here, definitely no chivary. And it stinks--of sweat and smoke and sewage.

Blood trickles from my throat, on to Kate's white nightgown. She screams at the sight. 'Jarrod, you're bleeding!' 'I'm all right, don't struggle I won't let it get to you.

I push throughthe wind to the north-facing window and stand before it. 'I will bring her back!' I shout into the darkness. I do this because I know Rhauk will be listening.

Malcom clears his throat and Jarrod spins around, Jillian's amulet reflecting the morning sun. 'Kate!

Your self-assurance scares me.’ 'That’s only because you don’t have any.

Frowning, puzzled, I cross my arms over my chest. "Go to hell." His eyebrows lift as he draws near enough so that I can accept his offer of wine, and smell his pungent breath. " Not without you, my dear