Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2)
Read Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Mikey Campling
Tags: #General Fiction
OUTCAST
Somewhere, Sometime, The Stone is Listening
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
To get the most from this book, you should really have read
Trespass
first. You do not need to have read
Breaking Ground
, but since it’s free and a quick read, you may enjoy the extra detail that it provides.
Explore the World of the Darkeningstone
Read the Exclusive Prequel for Free
Use the link below and I’ll send you
Breaking Ground
, the prequel to The Darkeningstone Trilogy, for free.
NB
Breaking Ground
is not available to buy as an ebook. This is an exclusive offer that’s just for my readers.
Visit:
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Dedication
This book is for my readers.
Thank you for allowing me to join your tribe so that I may tell my tales at your fireside. I’m very grateful for your kind words, your patience, and above all, your encouragement.
Who knows what true loneliness is—not the conventional word but the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs some memory or some illusion.
—Joseph Conrad
Mikey Campling
Editors: Michael-Israel Jarvis & Sophie B. Thomas
Chapter 1
3650 BC
HAFOC PAUSED AND SNIFFED THE AIR. The evening was crisp and cool and his mind whirled with a confusion of scents from the forest; the deep sweetness of the soft earth mingled with the mellow scent of forest flowers. But there it was—the hint of bitterness he’d been hoping for: wood smoke. He closed his eyes for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. The spirits had not helped him in his hunt today, but they’d brought him back to his tribe. At last.
Hafoc started forward, turning his head as he walked, tracking the scent of the fire. He would soon be back with the others.
Just in time
. The sun was already low and the shadows beneath the trees were already as dark as a demon’s eyes. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked. Had he heard something? He walked on, raising his right hand over his shoulder to touch the shafts of the arrows he carried on his back. Good. There were plenty there.
It’s not
as if I’ve had the chance to lose any of them today
. He stopped. Ahead, something stirred in the undergrowth. Hafoc dropped into a half crouch. He swallowed hard. First there’d been sounds behind him, and now in front. Had he allowed himself to be surrounded? He drew an arrow and held it against his bowstring, but then he hesitated. Should he draw his knife instead? He glanced down to the knife he wore sheathed on the strap across his chest, but it was already too late. As he watched, the tall ferns in front of him whispered and swayed as something pushed its way through the fronds. Hafoc set his jaw and raised his bow. Despite himself, he took a faltering step backward. And to think that, only a moment ago, he’d thanked the spirits for keeping him safe.
From the shadows, a low growl. A wolf. But was it alone, or was the pack even now circling around him? Hafoc tilted his head.
Where are you?
Another growl filtered through the undergrowth and Hafoc fixed his eyes on the place. He drew back his bowstring, but he couldn’t loose the arrow yet. He couldn’t be sure of a good hit and if he missed, he would not have time for a second shot. The trees nearby were too spindly to climb. His only chance of survival was to make a kill. If there was a pack, he needed to break it up long enough to make a dash toward the camp. And then he’d have no choice but to hope a cry for help would be heard.
The creature crept closer. A trickle of sweat stung Hafoc’s eye. He blinked and took a steadying breath. He was ready. A dark shape moved through the undergrowth, but just as Hafoc prepared to let his arrow fly, the creature’s growl changed, growing louder as it turned into a gruff bark that was too low, too grumbling to be the yap of a wolf. Hafoc sighed and lowered his bow. The dog barked once more, then, still growling, it pushed its way out of the ferns. Its ears lay flat against the top of its head and it kept its body low, ready to launch itself at Hafoc’s throat.
Hafoc stood straight and looked the dog in the eye. He knew its brindled coat, the shape of its muzzle. “Nelda, I almost put an arrow in you.” He put his arrow back in its quiver and held out his right arm, forming his hand into a fist. The dog raised its nose and sniffed. For a heartbeat, it stared at Hafoc and then it stood taller, its body relaxed. It raised its ears and gave a small grunt of recognition. Hafoc smiled. “Good dog,” he said. “I must be nearer the camp than I thought.”
It wasn’t long before Hafoc heard the distant murmur of voices from the camp. He stopped and cocked his head, listening. All seemed well, but he turned to scan the forest behind him. Earlier, he’d heard a noise at his back, and since Nelda had appeared in front of him, the dog could not have been the culprit. He’d only heard it once, but Hafoc would not rejoin the tribe until he was sure he wasn’t being followed.
Nelda watched him for a moment, then moved toward the camp. If there was a threat, she would’ve heard it long ago and let him know. Hafoc sighed then followed Nelda, changing the way he walked so he made some noise as he went along. It was always better to be heard as you approached the camp. A stealthy visitor’s only welcome would be an arrow in his chest. Hafoc deliberately brushed against the branches of a bush and the sound, unnaturally loud in the stillness, made him wince. A dog barked and its warning was quickly taken up by two or three more. Nelda paused and pricked her ears. She gave an answering bark then trotted forward. The voices from the camp stopped and Hafoc knew that men were even now taking up their weapons. He squared his shoulders and strode onward. He did not hesitate until he stepped into the fire-lit clearing.
The tribe were gathered around the fire and every head was turned in Hafoc’s direction. Most of the tribe were squatting on the ground, though three men stood, their bows in their hands. They stared at Hafoc for a moment and then their eyes went to the darkening forest behind him. For a heartbeat, Hafoc wondered what they were looking at. And then he found out. The shove sent him staggering forward, his arms flailing for balance. He caught himself, just in time and whirled around, his hand on his knife. Brond faced him, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Hafoc jutted his chin forward. He pictured his knife ripping across Brond’s throat, could almost feel the spray of hot blood against his skin. But Brond was bigger, stronger, and faster. And they both knew it. Hafoc took his hand away from his knife and stood up straight. He looked Brond in the eye. “I knew you were there,” he said.
“Ha,” Brond sneered. “I think not, little brother.”
Hafoc wanted to say that he’d heard something, that he
knew
someone was behind him ages ago, but what was the point? His brother would just ask him why he hadn’t done anything about it. Instead, Hafoc pulled a face and looked down. And there was Nelda, sitting by Brond’s side and watching Hafoc with her mouth open and her tongue hanging out. She looked as though she was sharing the joke.
I should’ve known
, Hafoc thought. Wherever his brother went, Nelda was never far from his side.
Treacherous dog
. He’d know better than to trust her next time.
Hafoc fought the urge to walk away. If he turned his back on Brond now, he was asking for another shove. He tilted his head to one side and looked up at Brond.
Is that it?
Have you finished making a fool of me?
Brond shifted his weight and stood tall. “You broke from the other hunters. You went off alone. Now, you return late and with nothing to show for it.”
Hafoc nodded. It would be a waste of breath to argue. Better to accept the insults and get it over with.
“Do you have nothing to say?”
Hafoc shook his head, but that wasn’t good enough for Brond, who stepped closer. “Well you’d better think of something, before I beat it out of you.”
Hafoc sighed unhappily. “I was tracking a deer. I wanted to do it on my own. But, it got too late, it was too dark to see the trail. I…I thought I’d better come home.”
Brond snorted in disgust. “No.
We
tracked a deer.
We
worked together.
We
brought it home. You—you wandered away. You could have been killed, or worse, you could have brought danger to our home.”