UnSeelie Dreams Edit Chapter One Part 1

France 1360

No birdsong echoed through the forest as he made his way along the trail, carefully he stepped over a fallen log. The silence made his skin crawl. His palfrey huffed softly as he led her through the dense trees. The roads through the Poitou region had become dangerous to travel after the recent Battle of Crecy. Unfortunately, the villages in the South of France were riddled with plague.

Sir Thomas stopped to set up camp. Night was falling fast as he tied the horse’s reins to a fallen branch. He patted her neck as he reached into the saddle bag for the last of the food and wine he had bought in Bordeaux. Hunching down, Thomas wrapped his cloak warmly about him as he lit the small campfire. The crisp autumn air stung his face and hands. Thomas stared into the darkness trying again not to think about the Holy Lands or the loss of his attendants to war and disease. He was not the same arrogant young knight seeking wealth and glory a decade past but weary and, he hoped, wise for his pains. His heart ached with a touch of fear over the disease which ravaged his home in England. As Thomas saw it, all he could do was to take what little he had left and put it towards the tourneys in order to win enough wealth to survive as a knight of his status or to join Prince Edward in his conquest of France. He was tired of warfare and the stench of death yet the future felt undone and bleak.

Sleep held no comfort for him so he remained awake and ready for battle. Even so the forest was not safe for travelers. Thomas tensed as he heard the rustling of leaves, snap of steel, and a shriek split the night. The scream did not sound like an animal but like a woman. He drew his broad sword and took off in the general direction of the cry.

In no time he came upon a petite woman. She was clawing at a wolf trap. Her rich auburn hair hid her face as she attempted to get its jaws open. Her arms trembled as she pulled the blades back with gloved hands. He could hear her pleading for strength to hold the trap so it would not snap back onto her shin. He raced forward to help, startling her in the process as he grabbed it and pulled it the rest of the way open.

She quickly pulled her leg out, flinching as the iron and steel brutally snapped shut. Without a word, he picked her up and carried her back to his camp. He fumed at the stupidity of the girl to wander about unescorted in the forest without a thought or care to her safety. Carefully he placed her next to the flickering pit, using the soft glow for light as he inspected the wound. The laceration around the ankle was deep but, thankfully, the jaws had not cut the tendon and the bone was not broken. He soaked a cloth in wine and cleaned the blood off her smooth calf and delicately arched foot without a care of her modesty. His attention to the sight was swift and efficient. There was nothing for it but to wrap the wound and hope infection did not set in. Still she did not make a noise, only watched him closely as he bound her leg, her intense eyes studied his every move.

“What, in the name of all that is Holy, are you doing out here alone, woman?” He growled in her direction. Her lips curved seemingly amused by his tirade. The horse neighed nervously, stepping as far away from her as possible. She curled her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, her eyes never leaving him. A chill washed through him but he soon shook it off. At first he thought she was a peasant girl setting traps but by her fur lined cloak and kid gloves he knew better.

He stood up to settle the horse then turned back to his strange companion. “I have little in food and drink to offer you but you are welcome to my meal. You are safe tonight and tomorrow I will take you home.” He handed her the small flask of wine and bread.

“Thank you.”

Her melodic voice startled him, filling him with honeyed warmth as he drowned in her luminous eyes. He felt as though he knew her. Startled he pulled himself back to the present with a shake of his head and moved away from her pretending to see to the fire, afraid that he had been too long from court for his own good.

“Forgive me. I am Sir Thomas Purefoy.” He dared to look at her again. “And you are, my lady?”

“You may call me Lily.”

Lily ate quietly as she watched the man who had saved her life. There was a dark beauty beyond the battle scars which drew her to him. His blood smelled sweet and pure, his heart and soul good. She saw into him and wanted more. An ancient familiar magic flowed within him. Lily smiled at this knowledge as she listened to the night.

Placing her hand over the bandage, she felt the laceration in her shin knitting back together, healing quickly since the iron was washed from it. She was determined to find out who had set the trap and feed on their souls. Lily closed her eyes and cast out her spirit net. A vision of a small group of nuns being run down by men in black; a lone woman cried as she watched her sisters burn, she was young and a novice to the ways.

Very few priestesses knew how to summon Lily to the middle realm and for now, the spell was lost.