robed druidow, but it was Tregeagle. The magister bowed next to Owain and shoved Uther’s body off the Stone. With shaking hands, he spilled hundreds of coins onto its glimmering surface. “Chance to … get … gold. Gold!”
Free at last, Owain thanked Caygek. He got up on one knee and tried to stand, but his limbs felt wooden.
Dybris ran to him through the crowd, dodging warriors who mistook him for a druid. Merlin followed close behind.
“Owain, the Stone!” The monk tore his tunic off and threw it over the top.
Tregeagle yelled.
Owain kicked the magister in the side, sending coins spinning through the air like overweight moths. Tregeagle himself flipped onto the grass beyond the edge of the leather tarp, which was still under the Stone
Owain had wanted to do that for some time. He pulled a Romanstyle blade from the stunned magister, fancy looking but of poor steel, and tucked it into his own belt. Together, he, Dybris, and Merlin unfolded the tarp, hefted the Stone, and took off toward the woods. For its size, Owain had expected the Stone to be heavier, but it swung between them easily, and they made good progress.
As they passed through the first line of trees, a cry arose behind them. Tregeagle stood amid the torches waving his arms and yelling.
“They’ve taken the Stone. Stop them!”
The three dodged under pines as they loped toward the road. Behind them people shouted, and Vortigern’s battle horn sounded.
“Faster! They’re following us,” Dybris called.
“Where will Natalenya be?” Merlin asked.
“The road? I don’t know!”
Natalenya finished hitching Plewin to the An Gof family wagon and then pulled herself up into the seat.
Taking the reins, she called, “Hy-mos!” and the mule began plodding forward at what felt like a snail’s pace. Can’t she go any faster than this?
She snapped the reins harder, and Plewin jolted forward, but the wagon gained little speed. I guess she’s just slow.
As she was passing the village green, Natalenya saw something ahead on the road shimmering. All she could see was a dark shape coming toward her. Then the darkness lifted, and she saw a cloaked man waving at her. He had white hair, and he was holding a harp. Uther’s bard!
“Colvarth!” she called.
The dark figure hobbled toward her. “God be praised, young lady! No time … to explain, but Uther’s been taken, and Arthur … is missing.”
“Taken? By whom?”
“Eirish warriors, I think … sent from Vortigern.”
“But those warriors are bound to Mórganthu.”
Colvarth shook his harp in anger. “In league, then! God … save Uther. But Arthur was taken from them to safety, and I … must find him. They spoke of … a Garth who protected him.”
Natalenya’s heart jumped. “Garth!”
“You know him? Where … is he?”
“If he’s turned away from the druidow, I don’t know where he might be.”
Colvarth’s white hand gripped the side of the wagon. “Can you help me find him? I have the … two daughters of the king hiding in the bushes, and … I must find Arthur and get them all to safety.”
“I’m sorry. There’s no time. Merlin is trying to destroy the Stone and is waiting for me. Troslam, the weaver. He’ll help you … And he can hide the girls.” Natalenya quickly gave the bard directions to their house.
“What does their crennig … look like?”
“It’s the oldest house on the mountain, so the wall around their field is higher than the others, almost a full eight feet tall for protection. If you don’t find help there, go farther down the road until you see the chapel.”
“I go! Whatever breath I … have, I pray.”
Natalenya reached out and grasped the old man’s hand for a moment, and then she was off.
Holding tightly to the leather tarp, Merlin ran as fast as he could without tripping, while the mad shouts drew closer. But his heart was divided, and only necessity had forced him to leave Uther’s body behind. Merlin hadn’t stopped Vortigern, and now Uther had been murdered. Merlin had failed, and with every step he wished he could go back and defend the king once more.
When the trio burst out of the trees and onto the road, Merlin fell to the ground, and this set his head to throbbing again. Owain pulled him up while Dybris straightened the tarp and looked around frantically for the wagon.
“Natalenya’s not here.”
But Merlin heard a faint whinny. “That way,” he called. “Horses!”
Southward they ran down the empty track, full of shadows, with the swinging bulk of the Stone between them.