the druidow stopped their ritualistic nonsense. In front of him, Merlin heard many footsteps approaching, so he hunkered down a little farther. The nearby crowd parted, and a man holding a torch stepped forward with his green robe rippling in the rising wind.
“At last, at last you have come back from the island,” the man said, and Merlin recognized his voice. Mórganthu. “And as promised, you have brought my enemy for judgment and sacrifice!”
“Aye, ‘tis true, Ard Dre,” said a voice on the right, “but we’ve lost two warriors, and I’m wounded along with O’Rewry.”
Merlin tried not to move or draw attention to himself. The man speaking was one of the Eirish warriors, and the faint smell of the damp marsh wafted from where he and his companions stood.
“It dinna go as ya told us it would.”
Mórganthu snorted. “And what could have gone wrong? Surely the young and weak presented no obstacle? Tying them up as I instructed was not difficult, hmm?”
“It dinna work that way, Ard Dre. McGoss dinna follow yer orders. And by the look on his face, he dinna think we’d do it, but we judged him by our laws, and now that murderer is dead.”
Mórganthu clucked his tongue. “Really? I never thought him capable of that.”
Merlin’s ears pricked as a man rasped out the words, “Let me go …”
Did Merlin know that voice? His poor eyesight frustrated him.
“And where is the heir of the High King?” Mórganthu inquired. “I do not see him here.”
“He cried too loud,” the warrior on the right said, “and so … we drowned him in the marsh.”
At this news, Merlin felt as if a massive hand had grabbed his throat and squeezed. Were they talking about Arthur … was he dead?
Mórganthu cursed. “You were told to bring him alive. Alive! Where is his body?”
“He … he slipped and we lost him.”
Merlin hung his head and gulped back his rage. How could the world change so drastically in so few hours?
“You drown the babe and then lose his body? You will pay for this disobedience!”
“Ard Dre … if it helps, we’ve brought this torc and blade as a gift for ya.”
“Ah, finally! The torc has finally come back to the keeping of the druidow … Yes, to bestow on one who is worthy. And the blade, yes, I see. Vengeance. Very appropriate. At least Belornos will be pleased with this new servant tonight!”
The rasping man struggled against his bonds. “Where’s my wife? My children? What have you done with them?”
Merlin’s heart sank. The man was Uther! And now Merlin’s burden had increased. How could he — alone and blind — save his father, Uther, and the monks all at once? Indecision and fear began to tear at his soul like twin demons bent on destroying him.
“Oh, do not struggle, my bound one. You will see your queen and family soon enough. Bring him to the Stone and place him upon it.” And as Mórganthu walked away, he laughed long and loud.
Natalenya felt Connek’s blade slash forward and rip the back of her dress, cutting a thin line across her shoulder blade.
With both hands on the tall workbench, she kicked backward and hit Connek in the stomach. Thankfully she had two brothers who had, through their rough play, taught her to hold her own. Turning to her right, she vaulted onto the upper grindstone, causing its supporting benches to creak under her weight. As she slid off the other side, she banged her head on the swinging timber boom and crashed to the ground.
“Die, and I’ll have my reward!” Connek shouted as he charged up and heaved his weight against the huge grindstone to topple it onto her.
Natalenya shook her head to clear it as the benches groaned and the wood splintered above her. The heavy stone tilted forward.
Terror drove her to roll away, find her feet, and grab the low timber boom. With all her strength she heaved it in Connek’s direction. “Leave me alone,” she yelled.
As the boom swung forward, a thud echoed through the room, and Natalenya heard Connek fall.
“I’ll get you, you rich hag!” Connek yelled from the ground.
She backed away from the grindstone and saw a glint of golden light reflecting off of something underneath the benches. Merlin’s torc? It must have landed there after hitting that despicable Connek’s face.
“The torc … It’s under the grindstone!” she called as she made for the door.
Glancing back, she saw the thief stoop down and lunge underneath the stone. “I’ll have