She let go and fell to her knees, her tears spattering the dirt and ashes.
Owain’s voice turned gentler, and he set his poker down. “I relent. Stay here and choose Christ with me.” He sat beside her. “Don’t go back to your father and his curse of a Stone. You’re my wife and I love you. Stay!”
In one swift shrieking motion, Mônda ripped the covenant band off her arm and hurled it into the now-burning forge.
Owain’s eyes, heart, and hands went to where she threw it, and before he could turn back, she was gone, the door banging shut behind her.
Dust hung and swirled in the air like a phantom.
Owain staggered toward the ground.
Merlin was anxious by the time Dybris and the other monks prayerfully entered to take Prontwon’s body and build a cairn over it on top of the mountain.
A mournful lament rose as Merlin stepped outside and began tapping his way to find his father. He’d normally take the downhill path to the main road, but he hesitated. That would take him past the druidow and the Stone. Was his father there? Even if he was, Merlin feared facing the druidow without anyone to help him. Instead, he directed his urgent footsteps across the high road of the village and hoped, beyond mercy, he’d find his father at home.
Using his staff to find the large stones set at the corner of each intersection, he eventually chose a downhill path to the main road, turned west, and left behind the village green and the distant chanting of the druidow. After he passed the miller’s crennig, he sharpened his ears for any sound from his father’s smithy, but he heard none. He did, however, smell the whiff of the forge. His father must have lit it at some point in the last hour, and in that he found hope.
Finding the large stone that lay outside the blacksmith shop, he stopped to listen but again heard nothing. And the smell of the forge had faded, which made no sense. Why would his father light the forge, let it die, and not work?
He pushed the door open and entered. The blacksmith shop was cold, and nothing glowed within. He shivered. All was silent except for a slight scraping of the wind on the boarded, iron-grated window.
“Tas?”
A gasp escaped from near the coal box.
Working his way to the sound, Merlin discovered his father curled on the floor.
He took one of his father’s hands. The palm was hot, with wet pus oozing from some burns. His father moaned and fumbled with something in his other hand, a curved object, his covenant armband.
But no. Merlin grabbed his father’s arm to pull him up, and his fingers touched the thick metal band still coiled around the arm. Two bands? Puzzled, Merlin reached for the other mysterious object. This one was smaller, which meant it must be his stepmother’s matching armband.
A shuddering cry escaped his father’s lips as Merlin hefted him into a sitting position.
Merlin unclasped his father’s hand and took the object from him. What was it about these armbands?
Owain scratched at the dirt as if trying to find the band, moaning even louder.
Despite the coldness of the room, the bracelet was unusually warm. Merlin explored its shape, details, and gems. As his fingertips traced the hammered edge, the metal began to burn, singeing him. He dropped the bracelet. What bewitchment resides here?
Finding a thick leather rag on the tool table, he used it to pick up the bracelet and fling it in the quench barrel near the anvil.
A loud hissing escaped, and steam split the air. But the hissing didn’t stop as it should have. The water boiled and churned, and a sickly sweet smell filled the room.
Merlin’s limbs suddenly felt like slack ropes. He fumbled for the tongs to retrieve the bracelet, but they were nowhere to be found. Feeling lightheaded, he kicked over the barrel, sloshing water across the floor.
The air soon cleared, and Merlin felt his strength return. There was only one solution for these fetters that had chained his father’s soul to Mônda for so long. He picked up the muddy jewlery with the leather rag and set it on the anvil. Then he slid the larger band from his father’s arm using the same rag.
A withering howl escaped from Owain’s lips.
Merlin felt the skin where it had rested and found thick scars from many burns. Why hadn’t he