Tales From a Thousand Worlds

Daughter of the Windswept Hills

Part Twelve – Peregrine

The remaining Hashalite mercenaries were preparing to depart when Fianna approached them. Their captain wheeled his horse about as she neared, looking down at her with eyes a touch narrowed and thoughtful.

“Some of my men spoke of you,” he said. “They say you fought my brother, Radhar.”

“If it was he at the river gate, then it was so,” Fianna told him.

“You are also not the one who slew him, they say, else there would be a feud between us.”

“We both suffered loss there,” Fianna said, her face locked tight, “For the man who slew him, and was likewise slain by him, was my betrothed.”

The Hashalite let out a sigh and touched a hand to his heart. “Then we are both the poorer for it, but the heavens enriched. What brings you to us?”

“I am an exile from my people. You are men of honour and I would join you.”

A crooked smile touched the Hashalite’s face. “An unusual proposal,” said he, “But we are depleted in number, and a strong swordarm is always welcome. We ride for distant Qaiqala, for there is always work to be had there for mercenaries such as us. Tell me, by what name are you known?”

Aifgar’s last words came to her as she answered. “Peregrine,” she said. “My name is Peregrine.”

The End

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