Maggie of the Mist by Madeleine M. (best ebook reader for ubuntu txt) 📕

He sighed deeply. “I take it you read the letter.” Maggie nodded through quiet sobs. “Megs, you’re going to be fine. Vika, Angus and maybe even Redd will be going with you. You won’t do this alone,” he said. “Just promise me that you will be extra careful with that young red headed lad,” she looked up at him with an accusing face. Her uncle just laughed and put on a half-hearted look of guilt. “Laila was quite willing to tell me about your encounter. At least promise that you’ll keep your guard up with him around.”

Maggie laughed and the tears began to slow. Even though she was leaving him, he would find ways to protect her. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you told Vika about him.”

“Naturally,” His big friendly giant smile was back. “They should be here shortly. Now, come inside, I have a few things to add to Gregor’s load.” He nodded in the horse’s direction. Gregor looked over, hearing his name, and gave an annoyed snort in response. The two laughed as they walked back into the house. Before long, Maggie could hear two distinctive voices drifting through an open window from outside.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course the miller’s boy doesn’t like me.” That was Vika. Maggie smiled.

“Vika, you must be blind,” Angus retorted with a smile in his young voice. “His friends carry around a bucket for every time he sees you, in case he drools too much,” There was a cry and then the sound of a body hitting the hard packed dirt of the drive. “Ouch! Veils, what was that for?”

Uncle Will laughed. “We probably should get out there before one of them gets killed.” Maggie grabbed the little things he had insisted she take with her – a few maps, a kit for simple injuries and illnesses, and her Aunt Heather’s cloak. Her uncle told her it might help her carry things much better, but she didn’t really see how a plain woven cloth could be of much help.

Quickly, she ran out into the yard. There she found a cloud of dirt being turned up by a girl with waist-length dirty blond hair. Her face was a picture of red fury that reflected in the greenish-blue of her bright eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had a mop of dark blond hair that boarded brown reaching just past his chin. His soft blue eyes burned with amusement and the adrenaline of a good fight. Their clothes were rough cotton covered with dust from the scrap, while two pairs of soft leather boots had been cast aside for better leverage in the wrestling match.

“How are the two of you supposed to get to the boarder without killing each other?” the large blacksmith pulled them apart with little trouble and set them on the ground so that they were facing him. Vika was slightly taller than Angus, and never let him forget it. Both of their faces were smeared with dirt and sweat. Maggie laughed and hugged them both. These two were her cousins – and her closest friends.

Angus rolled his eyes and tried to wriggle out of the embrace. He was only twelve, but he had the strength of a grow man when the need came. His name suited him well – Angus meaning unnaturally strong. Vika smiled and hugged Maggie back. She was fourteen, yet had the imposing presence of a warrior with high rank. Her ability to find water was also uncanny.

Maggie broke away to give her uncle a last farewell. He picked her up and spun her around, her legs leaving the ground. She laughed as the air rushed in her ears and the blood pounded in her head. She looked into his friendly face and forgot what she was about to say. Instead, she kissed him on a clean shaven cheek and gave him on last hug as he set her back on the ground. She picked up the things she had dropped when she hugged her cousins and stuffed them into the top pack. She climbed into Gregor’s saddle and tied the bag with her tools to the rest of her packs. She put her bow across her back, and then strapped the quiver full of fletched arrows on her hip. She rarely used her sword but had it strapped to her left hip.

The other two were perched atop their own rides, their boots back on their feet. Vika patted Dagger’s black coat, as he pranced, waiting to run. Her daggers were hidden in sheaths strapped to her inner forearms, while her larger blade hung from her right hip. Angus swiftly mounted Scott, and brushed dust from his brown coat. His automatic loading crossbow was on his back and his own sword was on his right side as well. Both looked to Maggie for the signal to go. She took a deep breath. “Alright,” she said, turning Gregor towards to main road and yanked the hood of her cloak over her head. “Who’s ready for an adventure?”

“The girl is alive?” A deep baritone echoed against the tall pillars, and equally tall windows of the King’s Great Hall.

“At least more than a dozen of your loyal spies reported her alive and well,” the High Adviser answered calmly as he smoothed the golden sash that was significant of his rank. His wiry frame matched the strands of grey hair that protruded at odd angles from his head. His face was that of carved stone and his grey eyes were cold. He was used to the man’s outbursts. “Unless these people, who have never even passed each other in the street, all decided to lie to you, I assure you that the girl lives, Your Highness.”

The king stood from the delicately embroidered silver cushions of the Curtian throne. His heavy steps shook the mirror like surface of the polished floors. The silver of his cape caught the sunlight that fell through the windows. He was a large man, but moved with moved with the agility and grace of a spritely youth. His strong face was bordered by a neatly trimmed beard of brown with bolts of silver. The curly hair that fell from beneath the royal crown had more silver than brown. His green eyes were dull and shallow. He cursed his younger brother. The dead man had just killed Heather, he didn’t even think of looking for the Crest. “Heather gave her the Crest.” He muttered. There was no other place it would be.

“Shall we capture her at home?” the High Adviser arched an imploring eyebrow. In his hands were a pad of paper and a quill that required no ink – thanks to minor magic.

Camshron shook his head. “No, Alec. If her time has truly come, then she is no longer with William.  She will be returning to Tìrbogha, taking that bloody stone with her!”

“Does she not need to come through Koal and Ajax’s Pass? Surly my bounty hunters will catch her before then.” Alec started to scribble something on the paper.

“You don’t get it, Alec,” the king punched a nearby pillar. “She’s going to ruin everything! All of these years of planning are gone without the stone. But the cursed First Family made the Crest so that only a McGregor could use its full power,” Camshron was staring out the window. His voice dropped to a whisper. “We cannot kill her. Otherwise the stone will be useless. Maybe, we could talk her—” the large door at the other end of the hall burst open.

“Father!” a giggling toddler tumbled into the room. Her doll bounced as she ran away from her nurse and towards her father. Camshron knelt down to catch his youngest princess with open arms.

“Lainey, my beauty, why do you run from poor Ella?”

“Oh, I wasn’t running from her,” the child told the king quite seriously. “I was running with her. Me and Ella are playing tag with Sara and Tori. We’re the only ones not caught yet.”

Just then, the other two princesses came rushing into the hall. “Aw, Lainey, no fair!” Sara cried. Her mouse brown hair was held back with elaborate braids. The silky skirts she wore were kept at knee height to prevent tripping when she played. “How come she gets to hide with father, Tori?”

“It’s alright, Sara. Mother said to meet her in the garden for tea, so our game is over for now. Come along, Lainey,” The eldest princess took her youngest sister from Camshron. She was a flower if he ever saw one. A spitting image of the queen. Her thin blond hair was braided like Sara’s. She wore a full gown of turquoise and light green. Her lovely face was kind and innocent. Seeing his daughters gave him new determination. “Will you be joining us, father?”

“Of course darling,” he gave his three princesses a warm smile. “Tell your mother I will be there presently.” The three of them waved to him as the left the Great Hall with Ella. He waved in return.

“You were saying, Your Highness,” Alec was beside the king again once the giant doors were closed. His quill and paper at the ready. “About the girl.”

“I was only going to say that the fact she is a girl would be to our advantage,” Camshron smiled darkly towards the mountain range that separated him from his enemy. Then his eyes caught his girls in the garden below. His beautiful queen and three lovely princesses. “The female mind can be manipulated a lot easier than any man’s. Just bring her to me alive. She will have the privilege of a choice between helping me or death. Make it so.” The Curtain King waved his hand dismissively towards his High Adviser, then made his way down to the garden to join his girls for tea.

It was only a girl. How difficult could she be? 

The evening air was dull and cool. The sky was clear and it would get colder. Maggie knew that she had to find them somewhere for the night. The sun was slowly going down. Vika pointed out someone approaching, shortly after the first stars appeared in the sky. A boy, not much older than Vika, travelled with two horses. Maggie, on reflex, pulled her hood to cover her face, despite the fact that it was