The roots and rock held back the mud, and the ground was covered in aĭeep green moss. He pushed his way through the mud and underbrush until he reached the tree. Up ahead, near a small rocky outcropping, he saw a fir tree with branches wideĮnough to shelter him. The cold damp air burned his lungs, and he could feel the strain on his organs. He had outlived the last of them so long ago that the very memory of them was starting to fade. If any of the Council of Edinar saw him using such a powerful artifact in such a manner, he
He trudged on through the dark mud, slipping every so often, and using his staff to catch him. In these mountains, he would have to be someplace where people still were. There was a chance that he was wrong about the location, but the baby was born MierlienĬould only think of one village that dared risk existing in this area, and he hadn’t been there in a long time. Few people risked living in these wild mountains. These mountains were crawling with goblins, hobgoblins, wolves, and even ogres.
Pointed to the Artiplan Mountains, but no place specific. Mierlien consulted the stars, and read the tea leaves, and even consulted bones. The blood red moon only rose when a Pendragon was born. Red Moons came and went, pale pink or orange to the naked eye, caused by cloud cover, forest fires, or even Knew that meant the boy had been born, and that he must find him, no matter what it took. It had looked as if the moon had been soaked in fresh blood. Happening, and Nature was telling him that it would happen to a boy. Mierlien knew vaguely what this meant, but the specifics had evaded him at the time. No boys had been born in Valherus in four months, although the birthrate was high now. The rainstorms had been just a tap on the shoulder. When she had a message for you, she might be subtle, but she would tell you if you listened. Mierlien had learned long ago to listen to For the past six months, there had been rainstorms, and these were supposed to be dry seasons. The Artiplan Mountains? "Because if it happened in a nice warm tavern, it wouldn't be a challenge." He answered his own question, as chilling rain dripped over the brim of his hat and ran down hisĬheeks in rivulets. Why can't it ever happen in a nice warm tavern? Why the top of
Using his staff as a walking stick he pushed on, every muscle screaming at him with jolts of white-hot pain. Drudgingly he looked up at the steep mountain, between the trees and boulders, He wanted desperately to create a fire and sit down for a while, but there was no time to warm old bones.
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It had been raining in torrents for nearly three full days. The sky wasn't even visible through the dark rain clouds overhead, let alone the constellations. The views expressed in this workĪre solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them. Print information available on the last page.Īny people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,Īnd such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.īecause of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. Or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
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