him, and now the druid is standing. He just sliced his sickle through the water.”
Merlin heard the man shouting:
The Sky and the Reddened Earth bear witness,
The Sun and the Thirsty Moon bear witness,
The Rocks and the Reckless Wood bear witness,
The Living and the Soon Dead bear witness!
I bring this Knife — first from Foulness,
I plunge this Knife — second through Water,
I take this Knife — third to Clarity,
I bind this Knife — fourth for Sacrifice!
To thee, Great Belornos, I bring this Knife
From Spring’s Bone unto Summer’s Blood
To make an Eternal Servant for thee
To offer to thee an Unending Life!
Merlin shuddered as Dybris continued his description. “The druid is joining his comrades, and the next druid’s approaching to repeat the ritual. He’s bowing down, and Mórganthu’s lifting the man’s hood and studying his face.”
Acid gurgled up into Merlin’s throat. “Which one is Tas? Can you tell?”
“No … They all look the same.”
Merlin held his breath and prayed once more.
Owain stood and walked forward, trying to act as much like the other druidow as he could. But he knew Mórganthu suspected. Thankfully he had the brass sickle knife ready, and he’d use it to end that murderer’s life before he’d let himself be caught.
He approached the arch druid, hood down, and knelt with every muscle tensed.
Mórganthu’s hand reached down, and just as it touched the hood, Owain sprang, slashing the sickle knife at the evil druid’s throat.
Mórganthu was faster than a rat, and his right hand caught hold of Owain’s wrist, diverting the blow so that it barely scratched his forehead. At the same time, Mórganthu’s other hand gouged at Owain’s eyes in taloned madness.
But Owain was stronger. He slung his head away from the fingernails and rammed his shoulder into Mórganthu’s stomach.
Both men sprawled to the earth.
Owain raised his knife to strike.
Stunned, Mórganthu flailed his left hand out and, to Owain’s horror, it landed upon the Stone. White lightning burst from the craggy surface, shot through Mórganthu and into Owain.
Owain felt instant torture spread through his body. His limbs stiffened in excruciating pain. Such burning! The brass knife fell from his hand in a white-hot lump. His vision faded as his beard began to smolder.
As Dybris described the fight, Merlin’s heart felt as if it would pound its way free from his body.
“There are imposters among us!” Mórganthu shouted. “Everyone must be tested!”
“Go!” Merlin urged Dybris. “Cut the door open!”
Dybris ran back to the first wicker cage and began hacking at the tendons securing the doors.
Merlin stood guard, preparing to block anyone who challenged them.
“Dear God, help me!” Dybris prayed as he hewed at the stubborn strings. “Why didn’t I have Owain sharpen this old thing?”
Shouts rang out, and Merlin turned to face the onrush. But the sun was almost gone now, and in the grayness, he didn’t see the first druid coming. A shoulder knocked into him with just enough force that he fell backward over a pile of twigs. By the time he scrambled to his feet, it was too late. The crowd of druidow had surrounded Dybris and flung open the door of the first cage. Laughing, they threw Dybris in with the other monks.
Merlin reached for his dirk, preparing for a fight, but the druidow didn’t seem to notice him. They shut the door, and new tendons were brought to knot it closed. With the door secured, they lingered around the cages, leering at the unfortunate prisoners and hurling insults at them.
Trying his best to blend in with the crowd, Merlin decided it was better to bide his time a little longer and find some way to save his father and his friends.
Brother Neot’s voice rose from within the cage as he addressed Dybris in his typically sarcastic tone. “Spectacular rescue, that.”
Mórganthu came over and stood close to the woven branches of the cage. “Oh fool, oh impudent fool,” he mocked. “One dupe of a blacksmith to sacrifice to the Stone, and now I have one more monk to burn in the Beltayne fire!”
Garth retreated to the boat and climbed to the very center of the middle seat. He’d withdrawn here, he told himself, not because the mist scared him — oh no! — but because it was warmer sitting on wood and more familiar being in a boat.
Sometimes the water splashed among the reeds near the shore, and Garth tried not to imagine blood-sucking creatures slipping into the marsh and encircling the boat.
After what seemed a very long time, stone-scraping and sliding noises echoed from the