Pentigrast: A Winter's Sorrow Tale, #1

By Daniel Sinclair

She lay quietly in the love soaked sheets, her legs gently spread reveling the remnants of love seeping from her inner thighs. Her eyes stare lifelessly at the ceiling and the bruising around her neck showed faintly against her brown skin. She was 28 years old and very beautiful; she would soon be a ghost of loves past and another trophy for the mantle in his mind.

Four women were dead and a fifth would soon join them just as it happened before over 100 years ago, but this time there was a witness to the dark ritual of death and this time there would be a fight. .

Thus begins the tale of the Pentigrast and the two unlikely companions seeking it's answers. Talen Morgan, a man trying to forget his secret past and Riven Lannister, a man of tales and legend with a dark history in the church.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Bull
• Release date: May 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497766921

Book preview

The Meeting

She lay quietly in the love soaked sheets, her legs gently spread reveling the remnants of love seeping from her inner thighs. Her eyes stare lifelessly at the ceiling and the bruising around her neck showed faintly against her brown skin. She was 28 years old and very beautiful; she would soon be a ghost of loves past and another trophy for the mantle in his mind.

The door to the inn opened slowly in the dense winter air letting loose warm rays of light into the stark white snow drifts that lay outside the inn. Winter was in full bloom like a flower dying on a grave and this particular winter would be the worst seen in over a century. The old man limped into the inn from the cold and settled in at a table near the fireplace to warm his soul. The innkeeper brought him a ration of black rye, a bowl of hearty lamb stew and a flagon of mead to wash it down with. The innkeeper let the old man know that there were no rooms available at the inn this night but he was welcome to sleep in a chair by the fire if he wished, at no charge of course. After eating his fill the old man moved to a comfortable old wing backed chair next to the fire, from his threadbare grey woolen cloak he pulled out a supple leather bag containing the last of his tobacco and his pipe. Packing his pipe full of the moist brown aromatic leaves he struck a match and inhaled deeply the savory sweet leaf before letting lose a billowing cloud of smoke.

From across the room a voice in the shadow of the alcove spoke up And what brings a man of your age out on such a winter’s night? The old man drew strongly at his pipe once more savoring the sweet leaf much longer this time before exhaling the smoke with his answer I don’t believe a man of my age needs to take account to anyone of his actions on this night or any other, especially to those not known to him. Forgive me Father the stranger spoke quietly while crossing the room towards the old man and the open chair next to him. I meant no disrespect, it’s just that it is a dreadful night and not many people are want to leave the hospitality of a nice warm fire for the bone baring cold. My name is Talen, may I sit with you a while? If you wish the old man spoke up, but I warn you I am not much for company this evening. The two figures sat in silence for a small while as the flames licked at the soles of their boots and the fire made their shadows dance about the ceiling. As the old man continued to enjoy his pipe he eventually offered up that his name was Father Riven Lannister from the parish of Downwater. His companion gave the old man a faint glance as a momentary smile crossed his lips. A far way from home you are, such a journey is hard for a man of my age in this weather, what brings you to Strongshire? Yes, a far way indeed the old man said with some hint of displeasure. I would like nothing better than to be sitting by my own hearth but it was required that I come this way, so come this way I have.

As the two figures sat quietly beside the fire the innkeeper approached with two steaming mugs of mulled cider. I see you have met Talen, Father Lannister, no better companion to have in these dark times. Talen is a trapper from Northridge, and no better man to be had when crossing the barrens in the dead of winter. Is that so. Spat out the old man as if he had taken a bite of spoiled food.Then it’s a good thing that my journey takes me elsewhere I would think. Talen rose from his chair slowly contemplating his next move, he raised his mug to his lips and took a long swallow of the warm cider before speaking. Forgive me Father, I meant no harm, only some warm words on a cold night. The old man eyed him suspiciously before breaking his silence. No need for forgiveness, unless there is something you would like to confess that is, otherwise I warned you that I was not much for company this night, perhaps any other night, but not this night. so you say Father, either way I hope your journey is swift and untroubled Talen crossed the room to settle his bill with the innkeeper then pulled the hood of his dark green cloak over his head to shield his face as he walked out the door into the biting winter winds of the night.

Is he the one? The old man spoke softly as if to himself. Yes, father the Innkeeper spoke up Do you think it wise to show such unkindness to the man you will have need of? I do not trust him, nor for that matter will I show kindness when none is offered. He cared not for my age nor for my travels he only sought to find out why I was here, and in good time he will wish he had let an old man be to carry this burden himself. When do you expect him to return? He will be back before nightfall tomorrow after checking his traps. Good said the old man holding his hands up for warmth against the fire. When he returns tell him I do have need of his services after all and to wait me by the fire in the evening. And where will you be Father? inquired the innkeeper. I will be in my room, the one you are about to make vacant for me. And I suggest you do so fast as I am tired and will soon be in a foul mood. But Father... the innkeeper began. No buts about it my son, you are being paid well by the church to look after me and you will look after me now, won’t you. Yes, Father. Give me but a moment and I will ready my own room for you if that is to your liking. That will do just nicely the old man said as he gazed into the fire as if searching for answers that he knew wouldn’t come.

Talen walked to the nearby stables and untied his large black destrier from the feeding post.  Mounting him in one swift movement from the stirrup he wondered what tomorrow would have in store for him and the sour old man sitting in the inn. He had heard that the man was coming and he already knew the stories of Riven Lannister for some time, he knew the old man would have want of him and why. As he rode out of the stables his horse gave a low whinny as if to say beware. Talen rode for his encampment on the north face of the mountain and he would sleep a fitful sleep that night.

Talen awoke in the morning and settled in next to the fire to eat a ration of hardtack and brew some red tea to bring him some warmth to his bones. As he surveyed the stark expanse of snow across the valley he thought back to the old man in the inn. Talen had heard stories since he was a child of a man called Riven that did certain jobs for the Church, although in the tales it was never told he was a man of God. If the tales were true then Father Riven Lannister was much more than a humble old