WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,2

him his nickname – Tor.

It meant a rock formation, rising up out of the ground, big and insurmountable. Impenetrable. That was what everyone called him these days.

With youth, strength, and a powerful reputation already built, Tor had the world at his feet, now with a beautiful wife and new baby. He had everything he’d ever wanted. As he rode through the gates of Lioncross Abbey, the call went up and men were scrambling. As he neared the keep, he was met by Brom Kessler, a Lioncross legacy knight whose great-grandfather, Jeffrey, had served the Defender of the Realm, Christopher de Lohr. Brom was big and auburn-haired, and he grasped Enbarr’s reins, helping Tor pull the weary animal to a halt.

“We’ve been riding for two solid weeks,” Tor said as he slid from the saddle. “The army is less than an hour behind me, so make sure you are prepared to receive them. Four wagons bearing wounded this time. You’d better let Lady de Lohr know.”

Brom handed the horse off to a stable servant and whistled for a soldier at the same time. Men came running to him, prepared to do his bidding, and he gave them quick orders and sent them on their way. When he sent the soldier for Lady de Lohr, he muttered to the man under his breath so Tor wouldn’t hear him. He was sending word about Tor’s arrival more than the approach of the wounded. Just as he turned around, Tor was preparing to head into the keep but Brom grabbed him.

“How many men did we lose in totality?” he asked.

Tor was distracted; that much was clear. He pulled off his helm, removing the damp linen cap that he kept pulled over his hair, revealing cropped auburn hair that was aflame with white and gold streaks, making it appear much lighter than it actually was.

“We were there almost three months,” he said. “We took an army of two thousand, one hundred and forty-five men and we lost a little over three hundred. Not a bad percentage given how fierce the fighting was, but Goodrich held.”

Brom lifted an eyebrow. “At least for now,” he said. “I heard de Lara troops from Lansdown Castle were also there.”

“They were,” Tor confirmed. Then, he peeled Brom’s fingers from his arm, as the man was still holding on to him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a wife to see. Has Jane delivered my son? Nay, do not tell me. I want to see her and let her tell me. Say a word and I shall cut your tongue out.”

Brom sighed faintly, holding up both hands in supplication. “I will not say a word, Tor,” he said. “But if you can just tell me more about the…”

Tor cut him off, moving away from him. “Let de Lohr tell you,” he said. “As I said, they’re not far behind me. He’ll tell you everything. I have a wife to see.”

With that, he flashed Brom a grin, turning for the keep. Brom knew he couldn’t delay the man any longer than he had without him growing suspicious.

He prayed for Lady de Lohr’s quick appearance.

Oblivious to Brom’s consternation, Tor continued towards the keep, one he was as familiar with as any of the de Wolfe properties. Lioncross’ keep was oddly shaped, a long building, as it was built on the foundations of an old abbey. The entry was on the ground level, very unusual in castles, but there was a forebuilding in front of the entry that had been built about fifty years ago for more protection on the entry door. As Tor entered the narrow, low-ceilinged forebuilding, he was met by Lady de Lohr.

Deirdra de Lohr, Countess of Hereford and Worcester, was just coming from the entry. In fact, she was rushing. A pretty woman with red hair and a sweet manner, she was much loved by her vassals. She was alone, unusual for a woman who usually traveled with an entourage, and she went straight to Tor, blocking him from entering the keep.

“Welcome home, Tor,” she said. Then she pointed to the heavily fortified door of the forebuilding. “Lock that door. Do it now.”

Tor didn’t hesitate. He stopped, turned around, and shut the door, throwing the heavy iron bolts that made it virtually impenetrable. Once it was done, he looked at Lady de Lohr curiously.

“My lady?” he said.

He wanted to know why he’d bolted the door. Lady de Lohr had him lock it because she didn’t want anyone interrupting