Song of the Mountain (Mountain Trilogy Book 1) by Michelle Isenhoff

Author:Michelle Isenhoff [Isenhoff, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2012-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

“Mud and mire shall birth a tree;

A sprout shall grow of ancient seed.

The five unite to break the one;

The curse of man shall be undone.

But brothers rise ere dragon’s bane;

The last shall smite the first again.”

Chapter 14

The men stayed only one night.

The next morning, as Song twisted the dried leaves of garlic bulbs into long braids, he had much to think about. Did he really believe the tales? He wasn’t sure. But the dragon was certainly real. And the box had repelled it. And his name had been placed inside the box. Somehow, he fit into whatever drama was playing out.

Was he a descendent of one of the brothers predicted to rise again? Was he a son of the good, mighty Elder?

Despite his name, he was not mighty.

Could he be a son of the Younger? Did he have treachery and hatred in his blood?

He hoped not.

Yet, didn’t Grandfather warn him about not letting hatred and bitterness fester? And hadn’t he done exactly that? Even now the thought of Keeto made his blood heat.

Perhaps Keeto was one of whom the prophecy spoke. Perhaps he was a natural blood enemy. Perhaps there was reason for their feud that went beyond what either of them understood. Would one rise to smite the other down, as the prophecy said? Was it happening already?

Song shuddered.

But what about Karina? She couldn’t possibly be a blood enemy, could she?

At that moment he heard her humming on the village path, her voice as sweet as the song of the thrush. It brought him pure, honest pleasure just to hear her.

No, Karina could never be his enemy.

The girl entered the clearing and her face lit up at the sight of him. “Good morning, Song.”

He waved. Lifting the long braids with their dangling bulbs, he carried them into the hut to hang within easy reach.

“Hello, Karina.” Grandfather looked up from the parchment he wrote on. “Does the village hold so few chores that you seek more elsewhere?”

“It is companionship I seek, and chores hold no repugnance for me. Have you work that needs completing?”

Grandfather gazed at her affectionately. “I hold no claim to your aid, but if you were to wash the laundry in that basket, my aging back would thank you.”

Song reached it before her. “We’ll do it together,” he said.

“Many hands make a burden lighter,” she agreed, grasping one of the handles.

They set the basket on the bank of the stream. It contained only a few garments, but each must be soaped, scrubbed, and beat upon the rocks to loosen the soil that clung to the fabric. Then they must be rinsed, wrung out, and draped over a bush to dry completely.

As they bent to the work, Song noticed Karina looked dingy and sooty, as if she, too, might need a good ducking in the mountain stream.

“How is it in the village? I have not been there since Keeto...” his voice trailed off.

Karina gave him a sympathetic look. “The village is being cleaned and rebuilt, but much is still in turmoil.

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