The Pendragon's Champions (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 5) by Woodbury Sarah

Author:Woodbury, Sarah [Woodbury, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: The Morgan-Stanwood Publishing Group
Published: 2016-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

In Arthur, these words weren’t mere bravado. That evening, he stood in front of his men and passed his crown to his son, Caradoc. “To you, I entrust the well-being of my people and these lands.”

“Thank you, Father,” Caradoc said.

Goronwy detected a hint of relief and ambition in Caradoc’s eyes—and Goronwy couldn’t blame Caradoc for feeling either. What son didn’t want to test himself in his father’s shoes before he was too old to wear them? Caradoc was a few years older than Goronwy himself. It was hard when fathers lived too long, and perhaps that was what was giving Arthur the impetus to come with Goronwy now.

They left the next morning, a host of men jostling along the road. Arthur’s men had fought more battles than they liked of late, and some of them hadn’t been happy to ride north with Arthur.

Arthur, however, was in high spirits. “We’ll have to take the western roads to Caersws, rather than those to the east. They’d be faster, seeing how the lands are flat.”

“But full of Saxons,” Goronwy said.

Though Goronwy had been deadly serious, Arthur laughed. “You’ve the right of it.” His good mood was contagious, and some of his men laughed with him. Goronwy had ridden in a company such as this more times than he could count, and still he was glad to feel the camaraderie and participate in their jests.

Boom!

A concussion split the air, and Goronwy’s horse reared. Men shouted and spun their horses, looking for the threat. Goronwy’s horse danced full circle. When he got him under control and came back around, the real danger became clear.

“Well, well, isn’t this pleasant.”

“Mabon!” Goronwy reined in, a black pit forming in his stomach. This was the last thing he wanted or needed. But, in truth, hadn’t he expected it? Mabon’s men had gone away from Deganwy unsatisfied. His companions were fools if any one of them—Cade included—had thought they could evade him forever.

“This is the famous Mabon?” King Arthur said. “He doesn’t look like much.”

This was patently untrue but Goronwy admired Arthur’s brave stance.

“What do you want?” Goronwy said.

“Such disrespect.” Mabon’s tone was casual and amused, but his eyes glinted and narrowed. “I simply want to speak with King Arthur.”

“So speak,” Goronwy said.

“Look what surrounds you.” Mabon gestured to the dozens of men who hemmed Arthur’s company in. Somehow—out of nowhere—Mabon had conjured a company of men, who were dressed in black as he was. “I would rethink your tone if I were you.”

Goronwy glanced right and left, calculating what it would take to free himself and Arthur.

Arthur put a hand on Goronwy’s arm to stay him. “What can we do for you, my lord?”

Mabon puffed out his chest. “Give it to me.”

“Daughter of Christ,” Goronwy said, though this time under his breath so Mabon couldn’t hear. “Not it again.” And then out loud, he said: “We don’t have Dyrnwyn, Mabon.”

Mabon sniffed. “That’s not at issue.” He pointed his chin at Arthur. “He knows what I want.

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