This is just something I've been working on while waiting for the weather to perk up so cover art pictures can be taken for Heiress. Thought it might be fun to get some feedback on The Reaper. I have the first book done and now I'm working on the second. Happy Reading!!!

 
Chapter One

            Forest beyond Lone Acre Village,

Rynn glanced behind her once more to make certain the freshly ground sacks of flour were still securely fixed to the back of the pony she rode. It was the first errand given to her by her father, and she would not be found lacking in it. The young girl had to all but beg to be let out on her own. Rynn wanted to make certain she did her very best, so her father might have good faith in her to complete other tasks.She was ten and certainly capable enough of helping more than her father asked it of her. He was burdened enough with looking after Rynn and her younger sister. She was ready to be of help, if he would only allow her to give it.Her mother passed away from the fever two years past, leaving her family behind to struggle through the illness without her tender care. Rynn never suffered from the illness; it was her father and sister who bore the brunt of it. They struggled through the whole of the winter and by spring Rynn had nearly given up and was beginning to face the reality that she might be forced to carry on alone in this world. Her sister recovered first. Slowly after, her father gained his health and a fresh determination to look after his children and never again be forced to be the one ailing.Rynn patted one of the flour sacks, content it was well enough where the miller placed it and turned back to the road. The forests beyond Lone Acre were dense allowing very little light to pass through the canopy of trees, casting the world about her in shadow.She must make certain to keep a sharp watch of the road and a keen ear to her surroundings, just as her father instructed.Her father would look to her more after this day; she would be his helper and at last his burden would be lighter. Her sister Letta was still too young to be of any real use; her head was tightly fixed in the clouds instead of looking to reality with wide open eyes.Their father would rather his youngest daughter carry on without a care, but for Rynn it was not so easy. She knew if they did not work, they did not eat, nor a roof over their heads or clothes on their backs. She was old enough to know and so she was old enough to be of help, if only her father would see it.This errand would be her proof.
Lord Drogo, master of Thevinguard, pounded down the rutted forest lane. His business at de Vanger had not gone as he anticipated, leaving him in a rage. The foul master of de Vanger would pay for his actions; Drogo swore he would, even to the man’s face. De Vanger would crumble, Drogo would not rest until he saw it come about. The horrid swine and his cunning ways. The master of de Vanger knew, he knew where Drogo’s son had hidden himself, and he refused to tell him.Drogo had seen it on the man’s face and heard it in the hesitation of his voice. De Vanger knew, but he refused to say. Why? Drogo wanted his son back, he needed his son, but there seemed to be none who would tell him where he’d gone. How could his son leave now that he was old enough to be of real use to his father?It was Drogo’s own doing that drove his son away, Drogo knew it. They never saw eye-to-eye, he never understood his father’s need to advance in the world about him. Still, the boy was Drogo’s only child, his heir. It mattered not if they loathed one another. Thevinguard needed the man, Drogo needed him.Blast him for running off and leaving his responsibilities behind.So lost to his own rushing thoughts Drogo never beheld the young girl riding toward him atop a gray pony, not until it was too late.Drogo’s mighty charger plowed into the child, causing his massive horse to rear up, nearly tossing his stunned rider.Drogo roughly gained control of the beast, then looked down to the calamity he caused. He was certain he would find the child and her pony dead after such a violent collision, he was lucky to have not been thrown.A thick plum of flour was rising into the air from the bags strapped to the back of the pony. The animal lay on the ground broken and ailing from his unseen wounds. Much to Drogo’s surprise, the little girl was kneeling beside the pony, unhurt as she bent over the animal, pleading for him to be well.Her gown was torn, her deep brown hair disheveled, but there was no other sign of abuse on her.“Are you hurt, girl?” Drogo demanded, leaving his saddle to be certain her wounds weren’t hidden.There was no possible way she could have been spared from such an accident without so much as a single scratch.“Oh poor Hugh! He is my father’s pony, all we had. We need him, Sir,” Rynn cried, looking to the poor animal, her heart filled with worry that the injuries were far too horrid to be healed.The child was well-enough, Drogo could see nothing that marred her fair skin other than the tears streaming down her dirt smudged cheeks.Rynn knew they would have nothing without the pony. Her father had not the money to buy another.“Your father will have no choice but to purchase a new pony for this one must be put down,” Drogo stated, drawing his blade. The animal was suffering and well past the help of any. It would be cruel to leave him to writhe in agony.“Oh do not kill him!” Rynn screamed, throwing herself over the pony.
She could not bear to see the stranger slay her father’s horse. She’d known this animal for the whole of her short life, he was just as dear to Rynn as he was to her father.“Get back girl, it is for his own good! Would you wish him to lie suffering? The poor beast is in agony even now. Will you condemn him to it?” Drogo shouted down at her.She would wish suffering on no living creature, yet she knew that was all the poor animal felt. Still, the thought of this horrid man lifting his hand to her father’s horse was more than she could endure.Rynn hugged the pony’s neck, her hands pressed to his flesh as she sobbed.“Go, good Hugh,” she whispered to the pony, her heart fixed in a wild panic. “Go and be free of this pain so that I will not be forced to see you killed. Go, please I beg you.”Drogo took a step back, watching as the pony became eerily still. The child’s face turned deathly white against the dark brown tones of her tousled hair. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was moving in whispering chant he couldn’t hear.“Could it be?” he muttered to himself. Could his luck be so great? He looked about him to be certain there was no one else about to witness what he was seeing. He must be certain they were alone. The forest was thick, if there was someone lurking within them he must act quickly.He’d found the answer to his predicament with de Vanger. Where one was taken from him another was placed in his grasp. His enemy would crumble at his hands, any who stood in his way would perish for their crimes against him. His foe would never see ruin coming to meet them, not within one so innocent as the child who knelt before the fallen animal.This Reaper would be his.
Paul stood in the doorway of the cottage looking out over the dimming sky. His daughter should have returned well before now. The mill was just beyond the forest, it was hardly far.Had the miller not finished his order? Rynn couldn’t have lost her way, she knew the road between the village and the mill. They’d traveled it together many times before. Lone Acre was her home. Rynn knew these roads, the edges of the forest and meadows.She would not become lost on a simple errand. Rynn was not one to be so irresponsible.“Pull on your boots, Letta,” Paul called out, unable to turn his eyes from the road. He looked on with worry, longing to see Rynn’s dark head appear against the twilight sky.“Where are we going?” Letta questioned, bounding up beside her father once she’d done what he asked.“To the mill,” Paul answered, taking her hand in his.He never should have let Rynn go, not alone. His thoughts of finding her well were swiftly fading with the setting sun. If they were to meet on the road it would have been well before now.It was dusk when they found the pony laying lifeless upon the side of the road. The bags of flour he carried were scattered about the ground, but Rynn was nowhere to be found.“Where is she, Papa?” Letta questioned, standing back while her father inspected the fallen pony.There were no marks to be found on the beast. Did he simply give way to old age? Paul knew the pony was near an age where he would be of little use to him. Alas, their livelihood depended greatly on the animal. Perhaps he’d pushed good Hugh too far this day.“Papa, where is Rynn?” Letta asked a second time when her distracted father failed to answer.Where was his daughter?“I know not,” Paul whispered, his heart quickening within his chest.There were a muddle of other tracks on the dry rutted lane, but they might very well belong to anyone and it was difficult to discern if any were small enough to be his child’s. In the fading light he could see very little and his fear was rapidly growing.Paul stood from his inspection of the pony and placed a hand on Letta’s dark head gently turning her back to the village. His greatest hope was that Rynn had just missed him and she was waiting for her kin to return with a comforting tale to tell concerning the fallen pony. Deep within his heart; Paul knew better. Something was greatly wrong, he could feel it.He would need help in this. His child was gone. He would gain the help of the villagers, with their help he would have a better chance of finding her.Never should he have let Rynn go alone, never should he have let her out of his sight.
 

Chapter Two
             Ten years later,
Rynn could see the master of de Vanger through the dense thicket. He was sitting on the back of a massive black horse as he searched the woods of his new home. He was taking an early morning hunt, looking for a fine prize and assurance that his forests were well-stocked. An arrow rested in his bow, waiting and ready, as he was, for the time to act.She was pulled to him, by the order of another, and until she has done what she was commanded to do there would be no rest. Three days she waited for this opportunity, now all she required was for him to get close enough to her. At long last, her quarry left his hunting companions and slowly made his way toward the thicket.He’d heard her.Rynn retreated further into the dense space, pretending to look about the thick undergrowth as he gained on her. “You there,” Lord de Vanger called out, dismounting and pushed his way into the thicket.He’d caught sight of her.“My Lord de Vanger,” Rynn humbly greeted and offered him a low respectful bow before brushing a wisp of dark hair from her face.Her intentions were masked, presenting her as all innocence.He lowered his bow seeing that the only weapon the woman carried on her person was but a small dagger. Little did he know, she’d never once had a use for it.           “Know you not that we hunt this day? One such as yourself might be mistaken as of a fine target,” he warned, watching closely as Rynn continued to look about as though she’d lost something.“What is it you seek?” he questioned when she continued on with her silent search.“My snare has gone missing,” Rynn lied, her mind fixed on her task and nothing else. She heard not the bird nor felt the gentle breeze on her face.She was drawn to her duty as a mindless insect was drawn to the scorching light of a flame. The only snare she possessed was the one she was laying out for this unsuspecting man. He’d been her solitary thought for the last handful of days and it had been an all-consuming thought.“You hunt rabbit?”Rynn only glanced up at him as answer to his question, then continued on with her searching, luring him further into the dense thicket. He was following her, looking about the ground as she was, distracted for the moment and edging ever closer. She seemed innocent enough to one who suspected nothing.He was close enough now, close enough for her to reach out to him. That was all she needed.It was her duty. This was what she’d been commanded to do. There was no choice in it, just as there had been no choice with all the others.Numbly Rynn reached out and took hold of the unsuspecting man. She gripped him with one hand by the back of the neck, instantly turning him rigid.She could feel his life passing through her palm, heard his breath catch in his throat, never to be released again. There was nothing she could do to help him, nothing within her power to spare his life.“Forgive me that which is done by my hand, by the bidding of another,” Rynn whispered, releasing him to allow the master of de Vanger to crumple to the lush undergrowth at her feet.Rynn backed away from the fallen man. Returning fully to herself for the first time since she set out on this errand. Her hands were shaking, her knees threatening to give as she looked to the lifeless being resting at her feet. What had she done?Rynn knew she couldn’t be found here, not when his comrades came looking for him. One such as he would not be left missing for long.She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her dark head and ran on shaking legs from the concealment of the thicket. Her horse stood where she’d left him, granting a swift escape from the dense forests of de Vanger.This ability she possessed was said to be a power that many would covet as their own, but for those who carried it, and were bound by it, cursed was the life that was not their own. It was not a gift that could be bought, traded or ransomed. It was a birthright, a curse, and for Rynn, a heavy burden of great sorrow.Reapers, as many chose to call them, found fear in those who came to know what they carry, forcing those who were blessed enough to discover what they were to hide, longing to keep their gift secret, shutting themselves away from the circles of proper society. By doing so they maintained their sacred freedom.Others were not so lucky, for once the gift is discovered by another being, it binds the Reaper to a master, commanded by a loyalty so fierce it was near unbearable. Legend spoke of those who broke the bond held over them by the master they serve. Freed to live the life they chose, free from being a monster. Others found a way to turn their curse for the use of good.For Rynn such stories were nothing more than what it was proclaimed to be, a legend.How could evil be forged for good? It could not be done.The pull to do Drogo of Thevinguards bidding was strong. Never had Rynn been able to wrench away from him, even though she despised him more than any other being.Bound to do his evil, she was treacherous herself.The thought of living a normal life plagued her when she was at rest from Drogo’s command. The longing for freedom from her curse was ever there, stalking her as she stalked her own prey, driving her mad in wanting that which would never be hers.
It was well past dark when Rynn rode through the gates of Thevinguard. This place was her home though to her mind, it was more of a prison.She left her frothing mount with the groom and made haste through the back corridors of the castle to the sanctuary of her chamber. Drogo would know she was here, he always knew when she returned from his errands. Still, she would have a moment or two to gather her wits before she was forced to report to him.She slammed the door to her chamber closed behind her and made a dash to the basin that was resting on the table in the far corner of the room. Ever was the basin full of water, lying in wait for her return.Rynn picked up the thick wedge of soap that rested on the table and commenced in scrubbing at her hands. It was her own ritual, it did her little good, but it was hers just the same.“You cannot wash it away, nor can you hide what you have done,” Drogo commented upon entering the room to see his charge standing before the table, as she often was when she returned, scrubbing her flesh until it was raw.“And you cannot kill them all,” Rynn hissed, grabbing up a towel, twisting it violently in her hands as she dried them.“Through you I can,” Drogo calmly assured her, lighting a single candle to ward off the pressing darkness. He was no fool, Drogo knew what this woman was capable of, he would not let his guard down while in her company.“When there are no more blood heirs to fill the walls of de Vanger the place will be inhabited by one who is not their kin,” Rynn argued, throwing the towel down on the table and tightly folded her arms.“Then you will kill them as well! Are you forgetting your duty, your obligation? As a Reaper you have no choice in this! De Vanger is my enemy! Mine, they will pay for betraying me!” Never once, in all these long years had he seen or heard from his son. There was no doubt within him that the man was dead. Drogo was certain if de Vanger had told him of where he’d gone, his son would be with him now.“Those whom you feel betrayed you are dead and gone. It is the name you despise not those who continue to arrive to inhabit de Vanger,” Rynn stated her anger lit, her heart breaking with the thought of all she’d done.By her hand Drogo had taken the lives of ten men. Men who were grown and seasoned in the art of battle, yet they all fell dead by her simple touch. Never once did they suspect what she was about, not until it was too late.“There will come a time when you will be discovered as will the crimes you have committed and you will pay for them,” Rynn threatened. She wanted nothing more than to be the one who divulged his secret. Alas, he held her silence in his grasp.“Have you at long last forgotten your kin?” Drogo asked, watching her take an involuntary step back with his hurtful question. “Have you forgotten the only reason I allow them to live within that forsaken hamlet? They say Reapers forget those they leave behind, have you?”Rynn looked away from him, her eyes falling to the small desk in the distance and the drawer that held a single sheet of parchment.“You have not forgotten. At least I know my secret remains safe. Betray me and those you somehow manage to love will die, perhaps by your hand. Think of that for a time and see if you are more compliant on the morrow. Seek your rest, you look horrid,” Drogo ordered, leaving the chamber in heavy silence.Rynn stood where he left her, looking to the closed door in numb stillness. She remained where she stood as the night pressed on.She couldn’t force herself to move for fear that the moment she did so, the gravity of the past few days would hit her fully.Never was she raised to forsake the value of a life. Yet, she was the one who was ever taking it from others. She’d tried to reason with herself, to lighten her soul with the thought that she was acting on the command of another.In the end, it did her little good. The guilt of what she’d done was still hers to carry alone.Drogo was her master, he was the one who discovered her gift. She was bound to him even if it was against her will.Absently Rynn pushed up the left sleeve of her gown looking down on the mark left on her by the cursed gift she carried. It was the arms of Thevinguard, a drawn bow with a string of fire wrapped about the arrow. Rynn knew not when or how it came to be there only that it appeared shortly after she was taken from Lone Acre. She pulled her sleeve down to cover the mark and looked again to the desk in the distance.She hadn’t forgotten her kin, though it was a fear that weighed heavily on her mind. The thought of forgetting who she was and where she came from was ever there when she was within these walls. In the moments when she was sent on an errand, her duty was all that filled her mind. Every thought was with the task at hand. Nothing else mattered, but what she was called to do.When the task was over and she returned to this horrid place, that was when she came back to herself and parts of her past returned, but never were they as clear as they once were. Rynn closed her eyes, fighting with her mind to see Lone Acre, the village of her birth. She desperately longed to remember it all, but the images in her memory were fading. No longer could she see her father’s face when she closed her eyes.