BARBARA ERSKINE
The Warrior’s Princess
This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008
Copyright © Barbara Erskine 2008
Map and chapter head illustrations © Andrew Ashton 2008
Barbara Erskine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007174287
Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780007287208
Version: 2016-10-26
For Liz Graham and for Brian Taylor In memory of happy conversations much missed
Contents
Title Page Copyright Dedication Prologue 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 Chapter Thirty One Chapter Thirty Two Chapter Thirty Three Chapter Thirty Four Chapter Thirty Five Chapter Thirty Six Keep Reading Author's Note By the Same Author About the Author About the Publisher
In her dream Jess was standing on the track near the wood. In front of her the gnarled, ancient oaks and taller, stately ash stood in a solid silhouette against the moonlit sky. Behind her, her sister’s white-painted stone-built farmhouse lay sleeping in the warm silence of the summer night, bathed in moonlight, pots of lavender and rosemary mingling their sweet fragrance with that of the wild mountain thyme in the still air.
‘Where are you?’ The child’s voice was clear in the silence, coming from deep within the trees. ‘Are we still playing the game?’
In answer the leaves of the trees rustled in the gentle breeze.
‘Hello?’ Jess took a step towards the wood. From where she was standing she couldn’t see the track which led into its depths.
There was no reply.
Jess moved closer to the trees. ‘Are you there?’ A slight chill played across her skin and she felt herself shiver.
Behind her the house was silent. The windows dark. She had been aware, seconds before, that there were people there, asleep. Her sister. Her sister’s friends. Her own friends. Now she knew in the calm logic of her dream that the house was empty. The curtainless windows were blankly staring eyes and the hearth was cold.
‘Where are you?’ The child’s voice was closer now. She could hear the fear in it.
‘I’m here.’ Jess ran a few steps closer to the wood. ‘Follow my voice. I’m here. On the track!’
She could hear the wind in the valley now, its gentle murmur growing louder as the branches of the trees began to move. The sound was coming closer, the whisper turning into a roar. She could feel the cold on her face. Then in her hair. Across the broad valley moonshadows raced across the dark swell of the hills.
‘Come to me, sweetheart. You don’t want to be caught in the storm. You’ll be safe here with me. We’ll go and