Hazel-green they were, her lashes long and dark, and her soft eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she looked up at him.
“I never knew,” he said.
“What?”
“How beautiful you are.”
“Can you … can you see me?”
“I think God healed us both after we drove the sword into the Stone.”
She looked at the hale skin of her hands and back to his eyes. “You can see!”
“And I’m so glad.”
She hugged him, and he kissed her on the forehead.
“None of that now,” said a voice. And from the darkness stepped three men. Two were monks, and the third was Troslam, holding a spear. He had aged in the years of Merlin’s blindness, but his golden beard and ready smile were the same.
“Colvarth sent us,” he whispered as he looked at the villagers and druidow lying insensible all around. “And he’ll be glad you’re alive. But … what of the Stone?”
“It’s destroyed.”
Both monks dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, prayers of thanks escaping their lips. Troslam’s eyes shone as he embraced Merlin.
“Did Colvarth find Arthur?” Natalenya asked.
“Shah,” Troslam said, and his voice turned even quieter. “They’re hiding in the woods by the lake. Colvarth asked us to lead you to him.”
“Dybris is hurt, and I need to” — Merlin’s voice broke — “bury my father.”
The two monks, whom Merlin didn’t recognize, rushed to Dybris. Troslam bent down and examined Owain.
“I’m sorry, Merlin, so sorry. But Colvarth urgently needs you.”
“I’m not leaving till a cairn is raised. Help me.”
Troslam nodded, and together with Natalenya and the monks, they brought pieces of stone from the wall and stacked them over Owain’s body.
With each rock Merlin laid upon the pile, the tears poured until he could cry no more and his voice turned hoarse. Natalenya rested her hand on his shoulder, and he found comfort in her soulful gaze.
Troslam lifted a large rock and laid it on top. “We need to leave now.”
Merlin looked at the cairn and the progress they had made. Sure, his father had been covered, but it wasn’t enough! Did Colvarth not expect him to honor his father? A burial and mourning usually lasted a week. With Uther dead, wasn’t Merlin released from his vow?
But did Merlin’s vow extend to Uther’s son? What had he vowed? And then he remembered his words:
For all my days will I serve thee and defend thee,
along with thine heir, and all that is right under Christ,
on the Isle of the Mighty.
The roof of the smithy collapsed, and flaming thatch wisped all around Merlin. Everything he knew had ended, and yet he was afraid to step forward into his new duty. The future of the people of Britain. Merlin’s future. Natalenya’s future. And the future of Arthur, so young and vulnerable.
But with the Stone’s destruction, wasn’t the danger gone?
If Vortigern’s craving for the High Kingship led to Uther’s murder, then Arthur was in peril. Merlin felt the whole of Britain’s future press upon his shoulders like a millstone. Did Colvarth also feel this weight? The old man shouldn’t bear it alone.
“I’m ready to go.”
Natalenya looked from one to the other and finally rested her eyes on Merlin.
“You’re not —?”
“Coming back? No, I don’t think so.” He had lost everything, and his heart felt so empty. Yet she looked at him with such tenderness. He took a step toward her and held out his hand. “But though I don’t know where I’m going, I can provide for you. Will you come?”
She took his hand. “Where you go, I will go, and your people will be my people.”
“We need permission.”
Troslam coughed. “Natalenya, your parents are at the lake too, for a different reason. Come, and you can speak to your mother.”
“And my father?” Natalenya asked, her lips quivering.
“I’m not so sure. But we have to go, and carefully. Vortigern could be anywhere.”
Horses’ hoofs sounded upon the road.
Merlin knelt and kissed a rock on his father’s cairn.
“Good-bye. I love you, Tas.”
The monks stayed behind to tend Dybris while Merlin and the others fled to the woods. Troslam guided them, and they dodged from shadow to copse, skirting the mountain. Soon they arrived at the eastern end of the lake, as far as they could get from Uther’s camp and the few sentries guarding the tents.
Troslam urged them into a deep thicket, where some horses were tied to the trees. Colvarth stepped forward to greet them. The bard held young Arthur, who slept upon his chest. “My … Merlin, you have come! What news