The Gathering Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Character List

  Places

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THANK YOU

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  THE GATHERING

  The Hundred - Book 1

  Vanessa Nelson

  THE GATHERING

  The Hundred - Book 1

  Vanessa Nelson

  Copyright © 2019 Vanessa Nelson

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  Click or visit:

  http://www.taellaneth.com

  For Mum and Dad.

  With love.

  Character List

  Note: to avoid spoilers, some names may have been omitted, and some details left out.

  Adira - human, senior head Sister in the Stone Walls

  Annabelle - human, one of the Hundred

  Brea - goblin, wife to Thort and mother to Jesset

  Brias - wulfkin, second in the range at Ilfton

  Caroline - human, daughter of Viola the herbalist

  Cressin - human, tanners, from Silverton

  Dundac - human, one of the Hundred

  Elinor – human, deceased at start, formerly of the Hundred

  Ella - wulfkin, in Sephenamin’s range

  Firon - human, one of the Hundred

  Frida - human, dressmaker, from Fir Tree Crossing

  Grayling- human, head of law keepers at Fir Tree Crossing

  Guise - goblin

  Handerson - human, potter, from Fir Tree Crossing

  Idal - human, apprentice Hunar

  Jesset - goblin, Brea and Thort’s daughter

  Joel - wulfkin, one of Yvonne’s wards and Mariah’s brother

  Keffle - human, potter, from Fir Tree Crossing

  Kraig – senior law keeper, reporting to Grayling

  Lothar - Yvonne’s horse

  Mariah - wulfkin, one of Yvonne’s wards and Joel’s sister

  Mica - human, one of the Hundred

  Modig - mixed heritage, hotel manager in Three Falls

  Niall - human, chemist, from Three Falls

  Orla - human, clerk in the mayor’s office, Fir Tree Crossing, Priadan’s sister

  Pieris - human, one of the Hundred

  Priadan – human, mayor of Fir Tree Crossing, Orla’s brother

  Rebecca - human, from Hogsmarthen

  Sephenamin – wulfkin, cerro in Fir Tree Crossing, owns The Tavern

  Sillman - human, one of the Hundred

  Suanna - human, one of the Hundred

  Thort - goblin, Brea’s husband, Jesset’s father

  Ubel - human, merchant

  Viola - human, herbalist in Fir Tree Crossing

  Willa - wulfkin, works at The Tavern, Fir Tree Crossing

  Yvonne - human, one of the Hundred, legal guardian of Mariah and Joel

  Places

  Abar al Endell – southernmost city, at the edge of the desert, near the Forbidden Lands

  Coll Castle - part of Kingdom of Valland

  Fir Tree Crossing - busy trading town on the Great River

  Forbidden Lands - desert territory beyond Abar al Endell

  Hogsmarthen - closest city to the Sisters in the Stone Walls, on the Great River (upriver from Fir Tree Crossing)

  Ilfton - mountain town where Yvonne lived before Fir Tree Crossing

  Kelton - artists’ town on the Great River between Hogsmarthen and Fir Tree Crossing

  Royal City - home of the Valland Kings, furthest upriver on the Great River

  Runacre Keep - small fortress not far from Ilfton

  Silverton - small trading town upriver from Fir Tree Crossing

  Stone Walls - home of the Sisters in the Stone Walls, a high-sided mountain valley not far from Hogsmarthen

  Three Falls - city state near Valland

  Valland - largest Kingdom in the lands, holds the Royal City, a lot of the Great River and Coll Castle

  CHAPTER ONE

  A sorceress and two wulfkin walked into a tavern.

  It sounded like the start of a bad joke, but Yvonne couldn’t think of a good punchline.

  And she did not think anyone would believe that she was a sorceress.

  Sorceresses rode on prancing white steeds, clothed in gem-encrusted robes, and were so extraordinarily beautiful that ordinary mortals were bewitched at first glance.

  At least, that was what the stories told.

  There were no stories that she knew of where the sorceress rode an old warhorse, long past his prime. Or where the sorceress wore threadbare clothes, and boots that were leaking, again. She had always thought that gem-encrusted robes would be both impractical and uncomfortable, but right now she would very much like to have some gems. Particularly when the next step reminded her that her boots were soaked through, heavy woollen socks saturated, cold damp between her toes.

  She could not remember the last time her feet had been dry. It seemed to have been raining for the entire journey. A panicked rush to leave their last home, and then twenty days of hard travel, moving as fast as they could, fear dulling to exhaustion on the way.

  And now they were nearly at journey’s end. The Tavern’s door was open in front of her, the tantalising smell of food drifting out, curling through her senses and reminding her stomach that it had been a long time since she had eaten well.

  Still, she could not move forward, her damp feet fixed to the ground. Another unfamiliar place. More strangers. More questions. Good reasons to stay still, she thought, even if they weren’t the real reason.

  “Kalla?” Kinswoman, in an ancient language that few people spoke any more. It snagged her attention from her thoughts.

  For a moment she wasn’t sure which of the children had spoken. A bad sign. She had not realised she was so tired. Some of it was hunger. And she hated having wet feet.

  She blinked, shook her head slightly, forced a smile to her face, and found the pair of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder nearby, waiting for her. Joel, tall and broad with a shock of fair hair and bright blue eyes, watchful and a little wary. Mariah, delicate next to her brother, barely reaching his shoulder, with dark skin and startling blue eyes, looking around her with curiosity and anticipation, even after so long a journey.

  They looked human, to a casual glance. A closer look at either would show the slightly more prominent brow and bone structure of a wulf, and the faint hint of something other in their eyes, the predator never far from the surface.

  Right now, they were simply waiting. Yvonne had an impu
lse to turn and go back to the horses, who were doubtless now happily munching feed in The Tavern’s stables under the watchful eye of the pair of grooms who seemed far more competent than the ones she was used to dealing with. The horses were warm, dry, and having their lunch. They did not have to deal with the stares of strangers and the inevitable questions, many of them rude. She envied the horses.

  But she and the children had not eaten properly for a couple of days, after their travel rations had been raided overnight by some desperate forest-creature, and the smell drifting out of The Tavern was wonderful. Someone inside was an excellent cook.

  Her mind sharpened, taking stock of their surroundings. She had been dangerously distracted.

  Tipping her head back, she saw that the sign had been replaced since she was last here, before the winter. It was a plain wooden board, understated. Beautifully crafted, though. A simple tankard, for those who could not read. Plain words, for those that could. The Tavern.

  It might seem like a humble name. Yvonne had met the owner, though, and there was very little humble about him. Subtle and clever. Far more so than any other wulf she had met. The Tavern. As though there could be no other taverns in this town. In the same way as he was the cerro. The leader for all wulfkin in the town, in charge of the local range.

  He was attempting to hide in plain sight, operating this large, busy, prosperous tavern in a large, busy, prosperous town. Her sword hand twitched at the idea of a wulf being subtle, and she forced it still. He might be watching, and she needed his acceptance of the children.

  Joel and Mariah were still waiting.

  “We are expected?” Joel asked, a subtle tension in his voice and body that someone who didn’t know him would have missed. It was not the first time he had asked that question on the way here. She had answered the question each time, and would answer it as many times as he needed to hear it.

  “Yes,” she confirmed, keeping to the one word this time, conscious there might be others listening, and gave them a single nod, letting them go first into the building. She resisted the urge to lift a hand and check her neck. Her scars were covered. They always were.

  The old fear still crawled over her skin, making her sword hand twitch again. It had been years. It did not matter. She was walking into a wulf’s territory. The memories were still there, ready to come to the surface if she let them. She willed them back, drew a breath, and straightened her spine. She wasn’t a frightened child any more. Had not been for years. She was a sorceress. And she was armed.

  ~

  They came into The Tavern’s common room, a surprisingly high-ceilinged room with large windows, full of daylight, and rows of tables and benches set at odd angles. Wulfkin were highly social, by their natures, but did not always like to be in of each others’ pockets. So the room was designed with tables and chairs that could be moved around quickly, as needed, but would give the patrons an illusion of privacy and personal space when they wanted it. It was clever. Much like The Tavern’s owner.

  It was also quite busy. She easily identified the merchants, who must be travelling on one of the river barges that regularly passed through the town. A group of dark-skinned men and women clad in loose, flowing garments that told her their home land was far warmer and drier than this one. There were a few mercenaries with them, hard-edged and keen-eyed, who took a careful look at Yvonne and her companions as they came through the door.

  Most of the rest of the patrons were wulfkin. Yvonne did not need her nose to tell her that. The way they moved was evidence enough. Quick, lithe, graceful. Deadly predators when they wanted to be. Her sword hand twitched again. She stilled it, with the ease of long practice.

  She found a table that wasn’t too close to everyone else, but not so far away that they would look antisocial. It was a fine balance to strike.

  A petite wulf, dark hair pulled back from her face, cheeks flushed with effort, came up a moment later with a bright smile.

  “Greetings, strangers. Be welcome to The Tavern. What can I get you?”

  “What’s for lunch?” Mariah asked, eyes gleaming. There had been little time for cooking and good meals on the road. Just enough food to keep them going, fuel for their bodies, and not even that for the last two days. Mariah and Joel were used to far better fare.

  “We’ve got stew,” the girl began answering, then tilted her head, nostrils widening. “I’m sorry. I did not notice at first. What range are you from?”

  It was an innocent question, and Yvonne saw the way that both Mariah and Joel tensed, an unhappy pull to Joel’s mouth.

  “My children,” she told the girl. That should set tongues wagging, but stop any further questions.

  There was no word for wulfkin without a range. Every wulf knew where they belonged, even if they did not like it. Apart from her children, and one other, older, wulf she knew, powerful enough that he did not care what others thought of him.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” The girl’s face had flushed more deeply. Yvonne wondered how long this girl had been working. She looked barely old enough to be in here, as patron or server, and clearly not used to using her senses properly or she would have recognised fellow wulfkin sooner.

  “That’s all right.” Some of Mariah’s brightness had faded, but Yvonne could almost sense her shame. Appearances mattered to Mariah, after too long moving from place to place. Wulfkin without a range, but apparently with a human mother who looked too ragged to be of much use.

  “It’s my first week here,” the girl said, as though reading Yvonne’s thoughts, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin was pale enough to suggest a northern heritage, still flushed with embarrassment. “I’m still getting used to things. The stew is really very good.”

  “We’ll have stew and small beer for all of us,” Yvonne said.

  The girl might be new, but she was quick. They had barely settled in their seats, and exchanged a few words, Mariah complaining about her wet feet, before bowls of stew and wooden tankards of small beer were in front of them. Mariah and Joel nearly buried their heads in the bowls, barely remembering to use their spoons.

  “This is really good,” Mariah told her between mouthfuls. “You want yours?” she asked, seeing Yvonne had barely touched hers. Years of table manners being drilled into her, the hard rap of a wooden rod across her knuckles when she erred, and she was always careful to eat slowly and carefully, no matter how hungry she was. She had tried to teach her children, although the lesson had not involved a wooden rod. She could not bring herself to hurt them. And table manners were far less important among wulfkin than among humans.

  “Yes. But you can order more if you want,” Yvonne told them, hiding a smile with another mouthful. Wulfkin required a lot more food than humans, and hungry wulfkin were dangerous.

  Given permission, they lost no time in ordering more stew. The serving girl brought them with the same quick efficiency and bright smile. She was walking with a slight limp, Yvonne saw. She frowned at her back, watching the girl walk away. The Tavern’s owner did not strike her as someone to permit harassment or injury to his people, and that limp had to be a recent injury as wulfkin healed extremely quickly.

  “What are you staring at?”

  The belligerent tone and the beer fumes that accompanied the question gave her a fairly good picture of the man before she turned to look. One of the few humans in the place, he was middle-aged with a paunch, the front of his tunic bearing beer and food stains.

  “Good day to you,” Yvonne said, keeping her voice even and pleasant, and staying settled on the stool. She was a tall woman, and a lot of drunk men had taken exception to that over the years. She could sense Mariah and Joel tensing up. They had been through variations of this many times over the years.

  “You were staring at Willa.”

  “Are you her father?” Yvonne asked. It was a provocative question, but her tongue had run away with her before she knew what she was saying. It was one of her most ser
ious flaws.

  To her surprise, the man seemed to find this hilarious, laughing loudly. “No. No children. But she’s a good girl.”

  Yvonne’s opinion of the man rose. “She seems so.”

  “And who are these?” The man asked. Nosy, Yvonne thought. Probably harmless.

  “These are my children,” she answered.

  “You don’t seem old enough to have children that age,” the man answered, with what he probably thought was a charming smile. The leer sent another blast of beer fumes across her face.

  She wasn’t old enough. Not in any culture. Barely past thirty herself. And the relationship she claimed wasn’t quite right, either, but it was the easiest explanation. They weren’t tied by blood, but by legal agreement that made her guardian of two wulfkin until they reached age eighteen. She had never been able to bring herself to say she was their mother, but she could say they were here children. Her wards.

  She watched as the man’s eyes travelled over them. Joel, with the fair hair and pale skin of the far north, Mariah with the dark skin of the far south. And her, last of all. Somewhere in the middle. Taller than Joel, and not as broad. Pale skin and black hair from her mother, her eyes, darker than Joel’s, lighter than Mariah’s, from her father. The only thing she, Joel and Mariah shared was blue eyes, of varying shades, and that was a coincidence more than anything else, although she did not see the need to tell the man that.

  Before she could speak, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. There was no warning, just a man’s hand landing on her person.

  She moved. Grabbed hold of the wrist. Pulled the arm forward. Locked the arm and the wrist with one hand as she rose from the stool, turned, and moved her weight through her hip and leg, throwing the man onto the floor.

  Only then did her mind catch up with her body, heart thudding in her chest, mouth dry.

  A wulf. Young, by the looks of him. Flushed with fury and embarrassment. Probably hadn’t expected a woman to react like that, or to be able to throw him. She took a steadying breath, stomach twisting. She would not be able to do that again, she knew, not when he was prepared.