Five disparate people drawn together in pursuit of one goal. "I so enjoyed the latest instalment of The Kaerling. The action was pacy and compelling. The characters had really settled into themselves and were well-rounded. I read it all in one sitting and was totally engrossed!" Jenny Poulter Their mission was simple – to rescue Lally and Derri from the evil kaerlings. But catching up with the kaerlings proves to be anything but simple, and the five companions discover that they can't completely trust each other. This is the seventh volume in the epic saga that is The Kaerling.
Excerpt
Uneasy Allies - opening paragraphs
Rue crumbled herbs into a glass bottle and sealed it with a cork. She poured the leftover dried leaves into the large, clay pot she kept specifically for conception remedies, and replaced the lid. The air was cool and dry in her stillroom, filled with aromas of summer. She slipped the small bottle into her cloak pocket and closed the door behind her.
The still room led straight into her living area where the tarnished kettle dangled on its hook to one side of the cold hearth. The large table was worn with age, just as she was. Rue looked down at her long fingers. They had not lost their suppleness, but the skin was beginning to wrinkle and sag. She slipped off her soft indoor shoes, and, as she pulled on her sturdy boots, she heard the cack-cack-cack warning cry of the blackbird.
A chill of foreboding shivered along her spine and she stood upright, listening. The rooks were in uproar at the bottom of the hill; that meant a group of people approaching. She sighed. She had known this day would come, and indeed, had been waiting for it, for more than a year. She supposed the death of the White Hart had been the final straw.
Rue stepped outside her cottage and locked the door, leaving the key under the woven doormat. She walked slowly down the earthen path, noting the herbs in her garden; rosemary, bay, mint, thyme, garlic, saffron, fennel, sage, oregano, vanilla, fireroot and ashtongue. At the gate, she turned and looked back at the place she called home. The grey stone walls fit snugly beneath the low thatch.
The tramp of boots on damp earth drew her attention beyond the gate. With her back to the cottage, Rue could only see a short way ahead. The narrow track wound its way around the foot of the nearest hill. Overhead, the rooks still clamoured. Rue wrapped her dark cloak around her black woollen dress and walked slowly along the path.
Once round the corner, her cottage lost to sight, the green downs revealed the armoured men clearly. They marched two abreast, their chainmail jingling with each step. She smiled to herself; was she really that dangerous?
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