Rondroc grabbed the front edge of the barrow, stopping it. “You did that on purpose.” His words were slow and dark. “No one uses our road without permission, so now you’ll be paying our tax.”
“Tax?” Merlin said. “My father pays every harvest.”
“I’ve heard that your father’s behind on his taxes.”
“Liar. Our smithy does a good business, so the taxes are never late. And there’s no tax for just walking.”
“There is now.” Rondroc rummaged through the barrow. His smirking voice made Merlin glad he couldn’t clearly see Rondroc’s face.
“None o’ that is ours to give,” Garth said.
“Hmm … a tasty goat feast would pay your fee.” The goat bleated as Rondroc picked it up.
“Stop ri —” Garth began, but there was a thump, and his voice choked as he fell to the dirt. Dyslan stood behind him laughing.
“We’ll roast it on the fire tonight.”
“Leave it alone,” Merlin said as calmly as he could. He slipped his staff from the barrow, and the wood felt cold in his hands.
Rondroc set the goat down and swaggered over to Merlin. “Gonna make me?”
“Maybe,” Merlin said, offering up a silent prayer. With his staff he tried to push Rondroc away, but the dark form disappeared. Someone kicked Merlin in the back, and he fell, banging his arm on the side of the wheelbarrow.
Rondroc laughed.
In the distance, a harp strummed faintly.
Merlin scrambled up and turned to face his mocker.
“Look out for Dysla —” Garth’s voice rang out.
Too late. Rondroc shoved Merlin in the chest, and he fell back over Dyslan, who was crouching behind him.
A sharp pain shot through Merlin’s skull as he bashed his head on a rock. Laughter swirled around him like thick fog, and for a moment Merlin lay still as his mind groped for its bearings.
“Stop it,” Garth said. “Leave him alone!”
The voices intensified and faded as Merlin sat up. Time slowed. Someone yelled in pain at his left. Using the barrow, Merlin pulled himself up to a standing position and winced at the throbbing in his head. “Garth?”
The horses whinnied, and Merlin didn’t hear the harp anymore.
“Want me to knock you down again? Or maybe a little poke this time, huh?” The sound of Rondroc’s knife leaving its sheath roused Merlin from his stupor.
“I’m warning you, Rondroc.” His hand shook as it strayed to his own dirk, a foot-long, tapered blade. But he realized how foolish that would be. Taking up his staff again, he tried to remember how tall Rondroc was.
“This time you’ll stay down. Dirty villager. Not paying my tax.”
Loud grunts and bangs sounded from near Tregeagle’s wagon.
“Ronno, help! I’m stuck,” came Dyslan’s voice from the left.
Rondroc took a step toward the wagon and shouted in a higher pitch, “You … little monk! Stop!”
Merlin’s heart raced as his chance came. Leaping toward the voice, he held his staff back and spun around.
The staff whirled forward in a whistling arc. Keep your head up, Rondroc.
Crack! Natalenya’s brother slumped to the ground.
For a moment Merlin stood still as a wave of emotions — from exhilaration to panic — flooded him. Panic won out. What have I done?
He heard thumping sounds, the neighing of horses, the jangling of tack, and hoofs clopping toward him.
“You can’t do that!” Dyslan shouted.
“Merlin, over here,” Garth called. “Get in!”
Merlin rubbed his head. “What?”
“In! I’ve got the wagon.” A hand grabbed his arm from above.
“The wagon?”
Garth pulled on his arm. “Hurry!”
CHAPTER 2
A PATH FOR WOLVES
Merlin found a step for his foot, climbed up, and fell into the back box of the wagon as it clipped down the hill. “What are you doing?”
Behind him, the chicken squawked.
“Borrowin’ the wagon.”
Merlin pulled himself into the front seat, bumping the bagpipe that rested between him and Garth. “You’ve got to stop … It’s not ours!”
“Don’t call me a thief,” Garth said, snapping the reins. “It was that girl … She told me I could take it.”
Merlin sat up. “Really? You mean Natalenya?”
“Natalenya, that’s her … The girl who sang.”
“She gave permission?”
Garth turned and spoke right into Merlin’s ear. “She said to take it. Said we can have it all afternoon. An’ how’s yer head? That was a chunk o’ granite you hit.”
“Hurts.” Merlin shut his eyes and gingerly felt the back of his head. Bloody dirt and some small pebbles were stuck in his hair.
“She said it was to help us get away from her brothers.”
“Huh.” Merlin smiled.
“I threw almost everything in. Even the chicken. An’ that rope’s a beauty — woven just right! I tied it around