it!” He grabbed the torc and laughed. As he scrambled forward, one of his knees hit the leg of a supporting bench, and with a great bang, the wood cracked and the stone fell.
Natalenya stood in shock as the dust settled. He was dead. He had to be. The stone had crushed him just behind the neck, and from there the thief’s blood began to pool in the dirt.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she broke down, releasing all the panic and horror she felt. She hadn’t meant to kill Connek … just slow him down. She hesitated a moment, then walked forward, knelt, and extracted the torc from his hand. Then she placed it around her neck once again, and its golden curve weighed heavily upon her. She wanted to take hold of Connek’s dirt-encrusted hand and pray for his soul, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do it. Maybe one of the monks could do that before they buried him.
Natalenya retrieved the knife Merlin had given her and placed it back in her belt.
Someone moaned over by the mule stall, where Plewin munched a manger full of grain.
Allun … he’s hurt!
She quickly lit a rush lamp and found the miller tied up in a corner near the stall. After untying him, she offered him a sip from his waterskin.
Allun took a long drink, then sat up stiffly. “I thank you,” he said after a moment. “That crooked upstart attacked me.” He peered at Natalenya in the dim light. “He knew you and Merlin were coming. Planned on catching you here. But I kept my mouth shut that Merlin had already been here and gone. I prayed you’d come with one of your brothers, or someone else. Are you well? He didn’t hurt you?”
“A scrape or two, that’s all.” But her heart was still fluttering.
“You’re a brave lass, you are. I’ll throw that miscreant’s body in the ditch, I will. Take Plewin if you must, but be careful out there tonight.”
Knowing her time was short, she helped the miller to his feet, untied the mule, and then thanked him before leaving. As she stepped out into the darkness, Natalenya shuddered, for the moon was already slipping below the horizon, signaling the start of the druidow’s Beltayne feast, and she had to hurry.
Owain lay on the damp ground next to the Stone and struggled against the ropes that bound his feet and hands, but he couldn’t loosen their chafing cords. A stranger had been placed upon the Stone next to him, but since Owain faced away from the gleam he couldn’t see who the man was. Yet even with his back turned, Owain felt heat pulse from the Stone’s craggy surface, followed by cold, and then back to heat. On and on. The druidow circled with continuous chanting while the drums beat a slow cadence once more.
Owain studied the wicker cages and wondered where Dybris and Merlin were hiding. Still watching from the bushes where Owain had left them? But his hopes burned away when he spotted two hands with purple-blue designs holding the posts of the nearest woven cage. So one of the two had been caught, and probably both, considering Merlin’s blindness. They were all likely to die before that sluggish Vortigern came. Die before Natalenya even knew they’d been captured. Moisture dotted Owain’s eyes as he realized that Mônda would live out her remaining days without seeing the light or knowing his own love properly.
And Ganieda. Young, impressionable, and with so many needs. What would become of her? Already Owain had seen her taking on her mother’s hatred for the worship of Jesu.
And Merlin would die too, caught in a trap of fire that he couldn’t escape.
The man next to him groaned and struggled and finally spoke. “Igerna!” he cried. “Myrgwen … Eilyne! Someone help me!”
Owain swallowed back bile as these words hit him like a hammer in the gut. The man was Uther, and with him held hostage, what could Vortigern do? Would he even discover the king in time? And even if he did, how could he attack and free them all with the life of the High King at stake?
Owain moaned and closed his eyes as a stronger chill crept from the Stone, and the icy flow began to sap his hope away. He ground his teeth and thrashed his body to break free.
Uther spoke, but his words carried no strength. “… have lost … lost all.”