Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3) by J.M. Hofer

Author:J.M. Hofer [Hofer, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.M. Hofer
Published: 2016-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Myrthin

“I will stay until your husband returns, Lady Lucia,” the strange man insisted.

“I’m sorry, but I truly don’t know when that will be.” Lucia felt herself growing impatient. She shot Gareth an exasperated look. He came and stood by her side in support. “Again, you may deliver your message to me, and I will relay it to him when he returns.”

Her visitor, a man who simply called himself Myrthin, arrived earlier that afternoon on a sad-looking horse. Idris had encountered him at the edge of the forest, not far from the village, and ridden ahead to warn Lucia. “At first, I thought he was just a poor traveler looking for a meal and a bed for the night, but he says he has a message from Emrys. I don’t know whether to believe him or not.”

Out of curiosity, Lucia had agreed to receive him in the motherhouse but was beginning to regret it. Something about him put her ill at ease, as if he could read her mind, or see through her clothing. His hair was full of leaves and twigs, but he did not seem to care. He wore several necklaces strung with teeth, bones and feathers, which hung down to his waist. What parts of his body Lucia could see were stained with symbols, some of which she knew, but most she did not. His long brown robe was tied at the waist with a thick strip of leather that had several pouches attached to it. She shuddered. Gods only know what’s in those.

“You misunderstand me.” Myrthin looked at her with a gaze that bordered on impropriety, and she felt Gareth bristle by her side. “Your beauty and fierceness in battle are well-known as is your wisdom as a servant of the Great Mother. It is not that I feel you are unworthy of relaying the king’s message. It is only that I expect your husband shall soon return—so soon, in fact, that I suggest you begin preparing a feast. Until then, I shall stay in the Grove with its caretaker. Send someone to fetch me you’re your husband arrives.” He left with a courteous nod and a flourishing bow that seemed almost mocking.

“And I thought Islwyn was peculiar,” Gareth whispered under his breath. “He’s the strangest druid I’ve seen yet.”

“That he is,” Lucia agreed, “but let’s hope it’s because he’s more in tune with unseen forces than he is with social graces. I hope to the gods he speaks the truth.”

***

Myrthin made his way through the forest to the Sacred Grove, eager to see it with something other than his mind's eye. I’ve been away from this land for too long. Though he knew it could not have been otherwise, his soul lamented the number of years he had spent in Armorica, away from the land of his birth. Away from Nimue.

He had seen but thirty turns of the sun when he had escorted Constantine’s two youngest sons, Emrys and Uthyr, to the safety of Budic’s court across the sea.

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