say your tas wants to see the Stone?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, but I need to somehow stop him from going, or else help him while he’s there.”
She was quiet for a while. “It made me want to look at it. There’s something spiritual about that Stone. It grabs your heart and twists it.”
“But I don’t understand. How can it do that?” Merlin asked. His throat felt suddenly dry as he realized how near Natalenya sat to him.
Natalenya put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s dangerous. Don’t let your father or anyone you know get near it. Prontwon did and is deathly injured … I hope he recovers.”
“As do I.” Merlin splashed the water with his feet. “The Stone does seem to command attention. Last night after the druidow left, some villagers were touching it. Even two guards from the Tor were there. Hopefully your father wasn’t angry.”
“He will be if he hears that. He dreams of piles of gold and lots of men serving him. I … I pray for him. He’s changed since I was young.”
“My tas and Kiff fixed the wagon, so hopefully he’s happy with it.”
The sound of soft, slow paddling floated to them across the marsh. They stopped talking and listened.
“Who’s that?” Natalenya asked.
“A fisherman. Do you see him?”
“No. The fog hasn’t fully lifted … Wait … I see a boat.” She got up on her knees. “It’s not like the others,” she whispered. “It’s like a floating island with grass and mushrooms. If it wasn’t moving, I wouldn’t know it was a boat at all.”
Merlin stood, one hand on his dirk. “Who’s in it?”
“A man. He’s paddling toward us.” She rose as well and stood close. “He’s old … and wild. Gray hair down to his waist, and he’s in rags. Let’s leave.”
“Muscarvel. The wild man of the marsh,” he whispered back. “Have you heard the tales?” Merlin bent down and put on his boots, but before they could leave, the boat gurgled past them toward shore. He felt Natalenya’s hand take hold of his arm.
“Where’s he going?” he asked. “Did he ignore us?”
“No, he’s on the dock! He’s holding a sword, and his eyes —”
Dripping footsteps creaked toward them, and the dock swayed beneath the man’s feet.
They were trapped.
Merlin stepped forward to face the stranger.
CHAPTER 11
A GIFT AND A PROPHECY
Dybris paused before opening the chapel door. Had he heard someone calling?
Brother Crogen puffed up the path behind him. “Hou, there!”
Dybris turned to greet the pear-shaped little man but could barely keep his eyes open.
Crogen stopped short and studied him up and down. “Before you go in, be aware our heavenly Father is very close to taking Abbot Prontwon home.”
Dybris stepped away from the door. “What do you mean?”
“Look at you: dirty and soaked to the bone.”
“You know where I’ve been.” He couldn’t keep the weariness from his voice. Where could that boy be?
Crogen plucked numerous pine needles from Dybris’s hair. “Yes, and while you’ve been scouring the woods all night like you’d lost your best quill, Prontwon’s near death.”
“I knew he wasn’t well, but —”
“Think he’s illuminating a manuscript in there?” The man’s eye’s bulged out at Dybris.
“I —”
“Think he prefers to sleep here instead of at the abbey?”
“Of course not …”
“Then what in the name of all that is holy do you think, Dybris?
“Everything I know is coming to an end.” Dybris leaned on the chapel wall and covered his face.
Crogen patted him on the shoulder. “Well, then, go in and see if your prayers can do more than your muddy feet. I’m off to get some herbs to help him breathe.”
Their eyes met, and Dybris saw compassion on Crogen’s face. The man truly cared, and that gave Dybris strength.
After Crogen left, Dybris entered the chapel, closing the iron-banded door behind him. The darkness engulfed him, pricked only by the light from two small windows. A silver cross sat on a table, along with a candle that had sputtered to almost nothing.
Prontwon, sleeping, labored for breath.
“Oww —” Dybris muffled an outburst as his knee hit a bench.
Prontwon stirred, turned his head, and then closed his eyes again. “Crogen?”
Dybris sat beside the abbot and took his hand, clammy and limp.
Prontwon’s chest rose and fell in small gasps, but it soon passed, and with renewed strength he squeezed Dybris’s hand and peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “Ah … it is you. Did you find Garth?”
“No.”
The dark sleeve that Mórganthu had ripped lay open. Dybris cringed as he glimpsed