Jim Baen's Universe Vol 1 No 1 by Eric Flint

Author:Eric Flint [Flint, Eric]
Format: epub
Published: 2009-10-01T03:00:00+00:00

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Framed

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The Thief of Stones

Written by Sarah Zettel

Illustrated by Chuck Lukacs

As I have been bidden, I will tell of how the sorcerer Merlin Ambrosius came to the shores of Ireland, and what he did there. Ambrosius was sometimes called No Man's Son, but because of these deeds I am to tell you now, he also had a third name, and that was the Thief of Stones.

He came alone to the shores of the blessed isle. Some say he flew there, having power over the wind as he had over the earth, but this is not so. Merlin Ambrosius was child of the west lands and its ragged coasts. He traveled in a boat of reeds and skins, with a brown sail to catch the winds and a stout oar to steer him through the rough grey waves of that sea. Autumn spread rust and gold over Briton's lands when he left there, and he came to the green shores on a day of chill rain and mist. It is often so in Ireland, and that is why her waters are deep and her fields more green than any others on the earth.

He drew his boat up on the sands and as he did, down from the hills there came two warlike men in the striped cloaks and tightly tied trousers favored on those shores. They marked well the short sword on Merlin's hip, as well as the white staff in his hands. This was in his younger days, before Merlin became the ancient sage of Arthur's court. He was tall, then, and broad in frame. His clothing was well made, but simple, being a blue tunic belted in bronze, green trousers, and a stout cloak of brown wool. His beard was short, and more brown than grey. His hair flowed in curling locks across his broad shoulders held back in a band of bronze chased with the images of falcons. His eyes were clear and blue, and all about his person spoke of one who is strong and bold.

Because of all this, the soldiers addressed him most courteously, inquiring whether he was the one they were sent to meet by their king, who was Berach Ui Neill.

"I am the one," Merlin answered them. "And I am ready to go with you at once to meet your king."

They were surprised at this, as it was a hard journey from the land of the Britons. They expected to linger on the coast for a time allowing him to rest. But they did not doubt his word, and led him straightaway up into the deep green hills that ring that land's coasts, now dark and tinged with brown as autumn settled in. It was a steep way. Rising mist sometimes hid the narrow tracks. But Merlin easily kept the pace the two soldiers set, and they were much impressed.

Merlin himself had good reason for his haste. He left behind him his king, new to his power, and that king had given him great charge.

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