The Moon in Hiding (Green Lion Trilogy Book 2) by Teresa Edgerton

Author:Teresa Edgerton [Edgerton, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: T Edgerton
Published: 2020-04-27T04:00:00+00:00

BUT SEVERAL HOURS later they were still looking for that higher, drier campsite. By that time, they were all three on foot, not only to spare the horses but also because they still hoped to stumble across their own trail and follow it out of the marsh. Instead, every step they took drew them deeper and deeper into the fens.

The reek of stagnant water and rotting vegetation was pervasive, and the damp soaked through their boots and their woolen hose until their feet grew numb and leaden. Garanwyn, younger and smaller than either of his cousins, was already reeling with exhaustion.

He stumbled into a pool of dark water and ropey weeds, lost his footing in the sticky mud, and was obliged to wait there until Tryffin fished him out. “Why don’t you ride for a bit?” Tryffin suggested. “Take Roch. He’s so used to my weight, he would hardly notice yours.”

Garanwyn shook his head. As tired and discouraged as he was, he was keenly ashamed of his own weakness and determined not to show it. “I can go on. For a while, anyway.”

“What I can’t understand,” said Fflergant, as they staggered on, “is what we’ve done.” He and his brother had reckoned up all their geasa, examined all their words and actions for months past, and could not come up with a single transgression between them. “We made a mistake somewhere, though I can’t for the life of me remember what it was.”

Suddenly he stopped. “Hark to that!” They all listened. Somewhere in the darkness ahead of them, they could all hear the distant rush and gurgle of running water.

“The river?” said Garanwyn. “No, that can’t be it. That doesn’t sound like Arfondwy. The river is broader and quieter the farther south you go.”

“Well, then,” said Fflergant. “If not Arfondwy, then one of the tributaries that feeds into it. Running water means a river, no matter how far south you go. And if it is Arfondwy, we can follow it out of the marsh.”

Garanwyn fingered the chain of the silver cross he always wore beneath his shirt. “But is it safe to follow the river? I’ve always been told that the Arfondwy is the very heart of the danger in Teirwaedd Morfa.”

“It’s the same river here that it is up north,” scoffed Fflergant. “The same river we forded a few weeks ago on our way east, the same river little children play in, in all the villages to the north. ‘Gentle Arfondwy’ they call her.” He was impatient to press on, now that he believed his sense of direction had been restored to him. “As for the danger—you’ve seen for yourself, it’s all a pack of nonsense. We’ve been wandering here for hours and on All Hallows’ Eve, too, but aside from getting lost and tired and a good deal wetter than we like to be, nothing has happened to us. Nor have we seen anything to frighten us: not a single corpse-candle, or water-wraith, or creeping horror the whole blessed night.

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