Legendary Warrior by Donna Fletcher

her on her horse. “You will ride beside me.”
    He mounted his horse, put his helmet on, and directed his stallion beside her. “You will tell me all you know of Dunhurnal land.”
    She wondered if she would ever grow at ease with the change the helmet brought. Magnus was easy and enjoyable to converse with, but the helmet hid this side of him away from her; his dark eyes were more ominous behind the metal holes, his look more fearful, and he, more unapproachable.
    “Something troubles you?”
    She focused on his dark brown eyes, hoping she could see Magnus in them and thus put herself at ease. “My thoughts but wander.” She immediately turned her attention to his command. “Dunhurnal land is rich in soil and the woods wealthy with game. The keep is in disrepair, though a fine size. It was built on a small rise and situated so that from the battlements all approaching directions held clear views, thus no enemy could approach without Lord Dunhurnal’s knowledge. The tenant cottages surround the keep and are in need of repair, and the land itself is thick with useless vegetation. The previous lord passed, and no heirs stepped forth to claim the property.”
    A thought struck her silent. Lands passed to heirs; how, then, had the Legend become the new lord of Dunhurnal?
    “Did you travel to Dunhurnal land alone when you mapped the area?”
    “Aye, I did. It takes time to map the land and the buildings, and none in the village could spare the time to accompany me, but it was necessary for the village to know the land. We needed a place to hunt for food once Lord Kilkern forbade us to hunt on his property.” She paused, a frown on her face. “If the land had been mapped, my father might not have broken his leg.”
    “You blame yourself for your father’s injury?” he asked.
    “I know it may seem foolish, but I feel my skills in mapmaking can help in many ways, thus preventing unfortunate and sometimes dangerous results. That is why I detail my maps so precisely; you never know what might be helpful.” A yawn rushed up and out before Reena could stop it, and her shoulders slumped slightly, fatigue fast catching up with her.
    “You have done far too much, on far too little sleep.”
    He sounded annoyed, which frustrated her, since she was well aware that he thought her too skinny and weak and she did not wish him to think so. “I am strong and can do what is necessary.”
    “I did not question your strength.” His tone softened.
    Another yawn attacked her, and she realized that she would not be able to continue the journey without some sleep. It would be nightfall before they reached Dunhurnal land.
    Reena was about to admit her fatigue and seek the comfort of her parents’ wagon when she was suddenly plucked off her horse and deposited in front of the Legend.
    One of his men took charge of her mare, directing the animal away from them.
    “Lean back and rest,” he said with a sense of command, his face near to hers and his breath a warm, faint breeze on her cool cheek.
    She was startled by his unexpected action. What would everyone think? But then he had told her once that he did not care what others thought of him. He had just proved it. She was so tired that she succumbed to his order, and she realized as she rested back against him that her hand remained firm on his arm, which was wrapped around her waist.
    She thought to say something but could think of no words, especially since she felt comforted by the strength of him. Her eyes drifted closed, though she fought to keep them open; why, she did not know. He had ordered her to rest, but sleep? She needed to remain alert, needed to finish the conversation with him about Dunhurnal land, needed to discuss Brigid with him.
    The last thought startled her, but sleep was close to claiming her, and she could do nothing more but think of how she must look, wrapped in the Legend’s arms, to those around them.
    Brigid woke Reena the next morning, and she sat up with