The Last Cleric (The Blackwood Saga Book 3) by Layton Green

Author:Layton Green [Green, Layton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cloaked Traveler Press
Published: 2018-03-19T22:00:00+00:00

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Caleb woke on his back beside a silver stream. Dawn light filtered through the trees. Marguerite lay beside him, stroking his hair. A few feet away, the Brewer had started a fire and was heating something in a small pot.

As Caleb blinked and sat up, Marguerite leaned on an elbow and smiled. She smelled good, like warm spice and a buttery leather jacket. “There you are, love,” she said.

“What happened?” Caleb asked. He felt groggy but fine.

The Brewer glanced over. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Singing. Rolling.” He shuddered. “Almost being turned into a giant mushroom.”

“I held them off long enough to get away, and they didn’t give chase. Fairies never stray far from their rings.” The Brewer took the pot off the fire and lined up three tin cups. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks. And thanks for saving our lives.” Caleb turned to Marguerite. “How’d you find us?”

“I was afraid I’d lost ye, honestly. When ye never came back, I noticed all the mushrooms and figured the fairies took ye. I slept during the day and searched the forest at night, looking for a ring. They never pop up in the same place twice. I s’pose I got lucky.”

Caleb swallowed. Lucky.

“But I wouldn’t ’ave given up,” she said, staring him in the face. “Not ever.”

He drew her close and gave her a long kiss.

The Brewer took his coffee and sat by the stream, grinning into the morning sun. “Didn’t think I’d ever see another sunrise.”

“So, the singing,” Caleb said. “Are you a wizard?”

The Brewer laughed. “Hardly. Back home, music has power, too. Its own kind of magic. Just not as strong as over here. Whatever ability I had to affect people with my music . . . it’s amplified on Urfe. By a lot.”

“So you’re some kind of . . . bard?”

“You can call it that, sure. There are others like me.” He grinned again. “Though none who can belt out a Freddie Mercury tune.”

With his brothers gone, it felt incredibly comforting to talk to someone from back home. “Where’s the flask? If I ever needed a drink, it’s after that experience.”

Marguerite looked him in the eye. “Didn’t ye notice the horses are gone? Someone raided the camp the first night I went looking for ye, including the grog. We only have the pack I was carrying.”

“Oh.”

“The Brewer’s going with us to the Blackwood Forest,” she said. “He’ll help us forage and drink from the streams.”

“Safety in numbers,” he said, glancing at Marguerite and then back at Caleb. “If you don’t mind.”

“Nah, man, that’s great,” Caleb said, and meant it. “Where’re you headed after that?”

“Dunno. I’ve been wandering the Ninth since I landed here. Don’t care for the Congregation too much. The only thing worse than religion is being told I can’t have one.”

Caleb chuckled. “Word.”

Marguerite looked confused by the conversation, and Caleb knew they needed to have a long talk, very soon.

Luckily, she had a compass in her pack, and they headed north, towards the Blackwood Forest. As they trekked through the pine needle-strewn wood, the two men chatted about home, forging an instant bond.

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