Prologue

15 years ago

 

"Where is the Master Lynch’s store" the older man stood in the shadow, his identity hidden in the ally way. He had his hand tightly clutched around a younger boys forearm.

The child didn’t look worried. His young years allowed him to be naive and foolish.

"Third right, then to the left." the small boy pointed behind him and gestured to a large road leading south.

"The Master Lynch will be closing soon, so you best hurry sir." the child urged him and slipped out of the man grasp. The older gentleman watched as the infant trotted off in the direction of his own home. It was dark out and time for supper.

The chilly air made the man pull the cloak he sported, closer around his large frame. The oily wool would stop water seeping in, in case of rain.

With a sigh the hidden man turned in the direction that the boy pointed him to.

He followed the roads as the boy told him to and found the small shop before him.

'Lynch' printed on a sign at the front identified the small store.

The man bared his black broken teeth in a grin and considered the irony of the Masters Title.

The sounds of heated debate came from the front door and the gentleman took a step forward, lifted his hand in a clenched fist and rapped smartly on the thick wooden door, making a rather load echo. Silence reined in the home, and the man took a few steps back unconsciously curling his fingers around the hilt of an axe hanging on his belt. The feel of metal stilled his nerves.

Footsteps sounded and a voice.

"Who goes there?" the male tone was loud enough to sound through the thick door but not too loud as to wake the neighbours.

The man out in the steadily colder wind, shuffled on his feet awkwardly.

"Master Lynch, would you please come out. It’s Allen." he added

The dead bolt on the door clinked and screeched in its rusty socket. The door squeaked open and the man previously standing behind it, now loomed over the man outside. The Master Lynch shadowed the older man, easily a head and a half taller than him.

His face was solid with a chiselled jaw, hard eyes and large build, obviously from years of work. His calloused hands hung loosely at his side, and even unstrained, his arms bulged in the cotton shirt.

"What’s your business here Allen?"

"I have a favour I need to ask of you."

"And what's that?" the Master Cobblers patience was wearing thin.

In answer the man pulled out his second arm from the folds of his cloak. In the crook of his arm was a baby. No more than a year old. But he lay patiently and looked around in interest. All wrapped up in a grey, thick blanket. His eyes were barely visible as they searched around until they landed on the master cobbler.

The baby blew out some spit bubbles and gurgled happily struggling to pull his little hands out from the blanket.

The master cobbler took a step back and frowned deeply, his eyebrows lowering into a deep V.

"What’s this?" he growled lowly.

He watched the familiar traveller solemnly and turned his head as heavy footsteps sounded. Half a dozen young boys curiously steeped out and looked from the Master Lynch to the newcomer.

"No Master Lynch!" cried out Allen.

"You misunderstood me. I didn’t do anything wrong. This child, he was found by a farmer in Lomount. The farmer didn’t want him and I didn’t know what to do with him." Allen quickly explained himself, stumbling over the words in his hurry to get them out. Fear filled his eyes, and the baby swayed dangerously in his arm.

One of the lads stepped forward and swept the child from Allen's grasp. The boy pulled the child into his arms and tucked his blanket under his chin. The baby’s big green eyes looked up at his curiously.

"Ryalo," began the Master Lynch with a cautious tone, tipping his head thoughtfully. A new child is a new mouth to feed, and living being to be cared for, with a multitude of skills to be taught.

The boy looked down upon the child with a hint of affection, barely visible, in fact so hard to read that Allen didn’t notice. The he looked up at his guardian and nodded his head.

The Master Cobbler nodded, satisfied. Allen would go home now, with little to tell, but sure that the child would be well cared for. As have been the children before.