the eyes gazed at him with a pale blue light.
Garth’s arms jerked to his sides and stuck there. His legs clamped together, and he fell over. He struggled to sit up but could only wriggle on the grass.
Mórganthu shouted, and the daylight disappeared as storm clouds blew in. Wind gusts sucked at Garth’s hair. Branches ripped off, crashing from their ancient moorings. Garth wanted to grab hold of the grass, but his arms wouldn’t obey him. Men shouted, women screamed, and horses whinnied.
Above the coiling snake, the shadowy figure of Mórganthu struck his staff into the blue fire of the Stone. Lightning burst upward from it, and Mórganthu fell back even as the apparition of the snake blew apart, and individual druidow arose where the chunks of flesh had been.
The lightning shot into the sky like an arrow and struck down on the east side of the village.
Merlin sat on the floor next to his father and held on to his sweaty hands. He could feel Prontwon’s torn sleeve against his knee as the old man finished his breathless prayer.
At that moment the hairs on the back of Merlin’s neck prickled. His scalp tingled, and even his hands felt strange. What was happening?
He looked up as an ear-splitting explosion sliced open the roof of the chapel, and a blazing arc of lightning struck Prontwon. The room exploded with blinding light. Merlin was knocked back, along with his father and Dybris.
Pulling himself up, Merlin saw the lightning split apart, surround Prontwon like a brood of parasitic worms, and sizzle into his chest. A fading wail escaped Prontwon’s lips. The room darkened as thunder rumbled across the mountainside. “Where are the candles?” Dybris called as he fumbled around. Hail stung Merlin’s face as it shot through the newly formed hole in the roof. He tried to cover Prontwon’s head, but the hail ended as quickly as it had come. A smudge of daylight showed, allowing him to find the older man’s trembling hands.
“I see oaks … beautiful firs,” Prontwon whispered.
“You’re here, Abbot, in the chapel,” Merlin said, his stomach sinking with dread.
“A mist is rising … leaves … trunks … Why is it all gray?”
Dybris found a place next to Merlin. “We’re beside you.”
“The sun … it is setting …”
Merlin held Prontwon’s hands tighter, shaking his head against the tears stinging his eyes. “No, the sun’s come out again. Look at the light. Even I can see it!”
“So dark …”
Dybris placed his hands on Prontwon’s heart and bowed his head.
“I see two trees … with a light shining between …”
Merlin held Prontwon’s right palm to his own cheek. Please, God, don’t let him die! We need him here … You know we do.
“I hear the voices … of my mother and father calling … calling me to come.” Prontwon’s voice grew fainter, but Merlin could hear his smile.
Dybris put an arm around Merlin.
“And there … a cross. I see a cross.”
Prontwon moved his hand to the top of Merlin’s head as if in blessing and held up his other arm to heaven. With a final exhale of joy, he called, “Jesu, I come to you …” And with that, his arms fell limp.
Tears coursed down Merlin’s cheeks.
His father groaned from beyond the fallen benches.
“Go to him,” Dybris said.
Merlin crawled away, searching for his father, and found him curled against the wall, shuddering.
“It hurts,” Owain whispered.
“Where, Tas? Where did the lightning strike you?” Merlin’s fingers brushed over his father’s torso, seeking the wound. A tight fear clenched his heart. How bad is it?
“Ahh … my armband. Why does it hurt?”
There was something strange about his father’s band, and Merlin was more than glad to get rid of the druidic thing. “Here, let me take it off.” He reached out and felt the icy metal of the covenant armband.
“Leave it alone!” Owain pushed Merlin in the face and scrambled to his feet, kicking him in the stomach in the process.
Doubled over on the floor, Merlin reached out toward the shadow that was his father. “Tas!”
But Owain didn’t turn.
His father ran outside just as hail began pouring down once again.
Owain ran, not knowing where he went as the hail stung his flesh like a shower of sparks from the forge. Nowhere did he run, and yet everywhere, as his feet thrashed through the ice-pocked dirt of what seemed like all the tracks and paths of Bosventor. Nowhere did he find shelter, and yet all around, the fading hearth fires of his neighbors called to him.
As