But somehow it sat bitter in his mouth, like a blackberry plucked green from the bushes south of the smithy.
And why did Uther prefer exploring the ruins of the old tower while enemies raised their scornful heads? If only that hallucination hadn’t come over the man, he might have explored the ruins after the Stone’s destruction.
As much as Merlin wanted to protest, the High King had made his decision. But what of the Stone? Would Vortigern capture it and bring it to Uther to be destroyed? Some inner voice warned Merlin against trusting the battle chief, and his concerns about the man grew.
When the High King had sent Merlin off, he’d ordered his newest adviser to report at first light, ready for travel. As if everything would be settled by morning! Merlin wondered why Uther had even asked his opinion, since he seemed so set on ignoring the facts before him.
In this frustrated mood, Merlin had to find his way south from Uther’s camp. Not a hard task when he could navigate by the position of the sun, but with these dismal clouds, he had to be careful to stay on the narrow path that wended between the mountain and the marsh.
Sure, Vortipor had offered a ride on the back of his horse, but Merlin had refused. If Vortigern smelled of pride, then Vortipor reeked of it. “Need a ride on my stallion? You might fall in the marsh and drown otherwise.” And he had laughed.
About halfway to the village, Merlin heard a woman call his name.
He turned, and her voice called again, somewhat breathless. “Merlin! I’ve been praying … since you went off with the High King … waiting for you to come back.”
He smiled and held out his hands in greeting. “Natalenya!”
She ran to him and, to his great surprise, fell into his arms, sobbing into his tunic.
For a moment Merlin stood there, stunned. Why would she weep? Why come to him? He thought his heart might leap out of his chest.
“My father betroths me to Vortipor tonight. To be married in Junius.”
Vortipor? How could Natalenya marry that foul-mouthed, cruel … “That’s terrible,” he said and instantly realized his mistake, for her crying increased until her arms shook.
Merlin tentatively cradled her head. The rain-fresh smell of her hair filled his senses.
“Unless you want to marry him …”
She pulled back a little, and even with his poor eyesight, he thought he saw a fierce light in her eyes. “Never!”
Merlin was taken aback. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who disliked Vortipor. But did she mean it? The man was, after all, someone important. “He’s the battle chieftain’s son —”
“I don’t care.”
A weight lifted that he hadn’t entirely realized was there.
“But what can I do?”
“Help me!”
“How? I can’t sway your father.”
“Hide me. Don’t make me go back. He’s not himself to make a decision like that.”
“They’ll hunt for you.”
She buried her face against his chest once more. “Not if I couldn’t marry Vortipor.” And her tears soaked into Merlin’s tunic right over his heart.
“Natalenya … you’d have to be married for that to happen.”
She wrapped her arms around him and held to him tightly. “Yes.”
The word struck him with greater force than if he’d been hit by the Druid Stone’s lightning. She couldn’t mean she wanted to marry him.
Hope and joy flared within him, only to drown in an ocean of frustration over his blindness. He was nothing — a glorified beggar at Uther’s table. If the king’s house didn’t bestow enough provisions for him, could he subject her to a life of toil? His heart beat like a galloping horse, and he wanted to shout, but his words slipped out one by one, like dry pebbles dropping to the ground.
“Natalenya, I love you, I do. But I can’t guarantee I can provide for you.”
She looked up at him. Touched his scarred face. “I don’t care. We’ll find a way.”
Yet the true reality of their situation pierced him like a deadly arrow. “Vortipor …” He pulled back, shaking his head. “I serve the High King now, and his son after him. I’ll be near them for years and years. Maybe for the rest of my life.”
“What do you mean? You serve your father.”
The tremor in her voice nearly undid him, but he forced himself to speak. “No. He pledged me to Uther.” He paused, and a realization struck him. “But you were there!”
“When?”
“Just before you swore fealty with your mother.”
“We’d only just arrived.” She fell silent, and he felt her soft hand slipping into his.
Merlin didn’t know what to say.
“I never dreamed you’d serve Uther,” she said at last.
“I leave tomorrow.”
“You can’t.”
“I’ve sworn my service. If you came with me … If we were …” Again he shook his head. “You’d never escape Vortipor and his father.”
Natalenya pulled her hand free and turned away. “You don’t want me.”
“That’s not true —”
“You’re afraid of Vortipor. I understand.”
“No —”
“You’d rather I marry another.”
“Natalenya, I —”
Merlin stopped. He didn’t have the words. Why had his father pledged him to serve Uther anyway? His blindness, always his blindness. It ruined his life and sucked away his joy, causing even his blessings to become deep sorrow. If only he’d known of Natalenya’s predicament and her feelings yesterday, he would have told his father to recant his promise. He wanted to tell her how much joy she’d bring him, but his words turned to ashes in his throat.
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.” Her voice trembled.
He reached out, but she’d stepped too far away. “Maybe there’s another way,” he said.
“Maybe.”
“Natalenya?”
“Yes?” She turned back to him, but her voice sagged with weariness where before it had sprung with hope.
“Stay. I’ll help. But first I need your help to destroy the Stone.”
“The Stone.” She stepped closer but didn’t take his outstretched hand. “Very well, Merlin. Let us see to this Stone.”
Merlin wanted to ask about the aloofness in her voice, but thought better of it. “I’ll explain my thoughts as we walk to the smithy. Hopefully my tas is still there.”
The rain stopped falling as they walked down the path. Eventually they entered a wooded area where the thick foliage darkened the already-dull light. The underbrush had almost taken over as well, and fronds of unseen bushes groped at Merlin’s legs. From their right, where the soggy smell of the marsh floated through the trees, a flock of crows began to caw loudly.
Merlin wanted to explain his plan to Natalenya as they walked, but he felt awkward and focused instead on trying to keep his pace even. As the path narrowed even more, her steps came closer, and he feared tangling his feet with hers.
Something rustled a bush ahead of them, and the crows amplified their calls.
Merlin stopped. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
The sound faded, and with it even the crows ceased their rancor so that the woods became silent as death.
“Let’s keep moving.”
Sweat formed on Merlin’s brow, and he wanted her to take his hand and guide him as they ran down the path to escape the woods. But he had to keep his composure in front of her. It was probably just a squirrel or some feral cat in search of its prey. The worst part of it was that in such dim light, Merlin’s eyes were almost useless.
Now the sound came from behind them, and Merlin stopped. Willing his pulse to stay even, he turned to listen.
Natalenya sucked in her breath. “I heard it.”
And there, in the mottled light, Merlin peered at a dark shape slipping from the bushes.
Natalenya screeched and grabbed his arm. “A wolf!”
&n
bsp; Fear blazed in Merlin’s chest as he held out his staff to Natalenya. “Take this and get behind me.” He snatched his dirk from its scabbard, his heart was pounding so hard that he could barely hear the slow, stealthy approach of the creature before him.
“There are two now. They’re —” But her words were cut short by a scream. “Merlin!”
He tried to turn and help her, but the wolf in front of him snarled as it leaped in the air. The shadow fell upon Merlin so fast that he had no time to do anything but raise his left arm to ward the gaping jaws.
Why did they keep hunting him? There were plenty of young deer in the woods, especially in springtime.
The wolf’s teeth ripped into his elbow, sending a shock of pain that stunned him. The beast was heavy, and it pulled Merlin down and forward until he fell into the bracken.
Letting go, the wolf snapped at his throat, its stiff claws on his chest.
Merlin panicked and thrust his dirk upward, but the thick fur prevented the tip from penetrating deeply.
The wolf pulled back and yelped but then dove forward once more. It snapped at Merlin’s neck, its warm saliva dripping on him.
Natalenya screamed again, and this gave Merlin a rush of strength.
He yelled and plunged his dirk into the beast’s neck.
The wolf yelped as Merlin rolled its spasming body off him and then stood. To his right, he heard the whir of his staff being swung at another snarling beast.
“It has my skirt!” Natalenya cried out.
He lunged forward and tried to stab the creature, but it jerked to the side. There was a ripping sound as material tore away.
Merlin lunged again, but the wolf retreated and then began growling.
“Run!” Merlin said, holding out his hand.
“Where?”
“The smokehouse!”
Natalenya seized his hand, and together they sprinted down the path. But Merlin could hear growls behind them.
“How many?” he asked.
“Four!”
They burst into the open as the woods fell away from the path. But still the wolves pursued them. Merlin’s scars stung as flashes of memory burned in his mind.
“How much farther?” Merlin asked, gasping.
“Almost there.”
A wolf ripped into Merlin’s cloak. He pulled the hood over his head, threw it at the beast, and tried to keep up with Natalenya.
“Merlin, run!”
The smokehouse roof appeared like a dark splotch on his right, and he could smell the smoldering fire that preserved racks of fish in its back room. They ran toward it, but he forgot the steepness of the slope leading down to it, and he stumbled and rolled.
Natalenya frantically banged on the door. “Megek!” she yelled, but the old man who smoked the fish didn’t answer.
Merlin regained his footing and crouched, ready to use his dirk. Three of the wolves appeared over the hillside and hesitated before two of them slunk off to the side, perhaps to circle around and attack from behind. Were they that intelligent, or was some evil directing them?
“Merlin, I can’t reach the latch!” Natalenya called.
Merlin turned just as the blur of a wolf jumped at her back. She shrieked and went down.
Only a few feet away, Merlin sprang at the creature, being careful to differentiate the gray fur from Natalenya, and thrust his blade into its back. The blade slid off a rib and sliced deeply into the wolf’s chest. Despite this, the wolf still tried to snap at Natalenya, and so Merlin stabbed it again and then threw it off.
Natalenya was crying.
“Are you hurt?”
She grabbed onto his arm with a shaking hand and pulled herself up. “Just a few scratches. I bunched up my cloak to keep him from biting me. The latch …”
Merlin reached up to find the wooden handle and pulled the string to lift the bar.
He let Natalenya slip inside first, and then he entered, banged the door shut, and dropped the bar. The room was dark and reeked of fish. Merlin suspected that Megek’s barrel of guts was ripe and ready to be closed up, rolled over to the woods, and dumped. The old man had apparently finished for the day and gone home.
Natalenya caught her breath and then broke the silence. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”
“You risked your life for me.”
Merlin gulped. “It’s me they’re after. If you hadn’t been there to help me find my way …”
She raised her hand and touched his face. “That would have been terrible.”
Merlin reached out, and she embraced him, her tears flowing freely. Time fled away as he held her close and breathed in the smell of her rain-soaked hair.
Then a wolf began scratching at the door and sniffing. In the distance one of them howled.
Merlin released Natalenya and backed away, awkwardly aware of their situation.
“How do we get out of here?” she asked.
“We fight them.”
“We already tried that.”
“Not this way.” He oriented himself in the gloom, walked forward, and ran into a worktable. Sliding a hand along its slimy, fish-sullied edge, he made his way to the wall that cut the crennig in half. From there he found the door that led to the preserving side. It was warm to the touch, and smoke leaked through the cracks.
He tried to see what was in the room, but it was too dark. “Is there any wood here? There should be a pile —”
“Sure, just to your left.”
He reached down and took two branches, then ripped off his torn left sleeve in two parts. After tying some material around each branch, he opened the door and then had to step back, for a cloud of noxious oak-fired smoke filled the air and made him cough. Inside, Megek had lit a great fire in a stone hearth and then smothered it partially with stones. If the fire had been brighter, Merlin would have been able to see the rows and rows of fish hanging from the ceiling.
Taking a deep breath, he ducked into the room and inched his way forward until he found one of the drip pans by kicking it. After wetting the makeshift torches in the greasy liquid, he shoved the tips in the fire. It didn’t take long for them to light, and moments later he made his way back to the workroom, closing the door behind him.
He handed a torch to Natalenya, opened the smokehouse door, and stepped outside, torch first. Two wolves were there, and they stopped growling and backed away.
“Wait!” Natalenya called. “What if the torches go out?”
“I’ve still got my dirk, and the smithy isn’t far. We can run if we need to.”
Natalenya stepped out next to him, one hand holding Merlin’s staff and the other grasping the torch, which she thrust toward the wolves.
“You watch behind and to the sides,” he said, “and I’ll wave my torch out front.”
Merlin stepped into the well-worn path that his feet had almost memorized. Just a short distance to the large rock next to the pine, and then the path turned south. But the wolves harassed them, and their progress was slow. Three times Natalenya had to shove her torch into their faces, and Merlin had to use both his torch and his dirk to keep them at bay. If he wasn’t already wet from the rain, he would have felt the anxious sweat trickling down his back. He felt foolish for risking their lives in this way, but what other choice did he have? There wasn’t much time before Vortigern would attack the druids.
Finally the wolves slunk away, discouraged, and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.
It was just in time, for the rain began again and the torches went out.
With the wolves gone, Merlin and Natalenya walked along in silence until they arrived at the old oak door of Merlin’s home. He found the iron lever his father had crafted and paused to feel its comfortable curve. After he left with Uther in the morning, how long until he returned home? When would he feel this handle again? Suddenly every mundane detail about his life became special. The straw mattress where he slept in the
smithy. The sound of his sister as she pranced about the soup pot. Their old horse, Kapall. Even Merlin’s broken mug.
And Natalenya. How he wished he could marry her. But all these things were slipping away. He would spend his days away from his family, unmarried and blind.
The door opened with a jerk. Someone jumped out and tackled Merlin, pressing the air from his lungs as he hit the ground. From somewhere above, Natalenya gave a short scream.
CHAPTER 28
THE WORDS OF THE STONE
Merlin fought back against his attacker, trying to free his arms.
“Got him!” the man yelled.
Extracting an arm, Merlin struggled to push the attacker off, until he recognized the voice. He sucked in a little air and said, “Tas … it’s me.”
“Merlin!” His father let go and stood, then pulled Merlin up. “Why in the name of Rome were you fiddling with the latch?”
“I wasn’t … I was just coming home.” Maybe for the last time.
His father scraped some mud from Merlin’s shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you. We thought someone was listening at the door again. He got away last time. Hello, Natalenya, come in out of the cold.”
Natalenya brushed against Merlin’s arm as they entered, and he felt her shiver. Dybris greeted them from the table beyond the hearth, and Natalenya sat down opposite him. Before Merlin joined her, he retrieved a wool blanket from Ganieda’s bed and awkwardly laid it over her shoulders. She reached up to clasp it together, and their hands brushed. Her touch lingered for the briefest moment, and though Merlin felt that he was forgiven, it did little to ease the hurt muffling his heart.
“Merlin, your father and I have been discussing what to do about the Stone, but we don’t agree,” Dybris said without seeming to notice the exchange before him.
Owain coughed as he sat down, throwing Merlin a warm, wet towel. “I see you’ve been in trouble again. Use that to wipe the blood off your arm.”
Merlin had already forgotten about the wolf attack, and he pulled up what was left of his sleeve to wash his wounds. Thankfully none of them were deep, for he had killed the wolf that quick. But all of this was unimportant, and he forced his attention back to the problem threatening them all: the Druid Stone.
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