How like him.
Litha rushed in looking shocked as Cerys finished applying cool towels.
“Yer Majesty!” she gasped. “Ye shouldnae risk yerself! Please, let me finish.”
“It is alright,” he said. “I have given him something for the pain, but I will need to mix a poultice.”
“He could do with some wood leather,” she agreed. “I’ve run out, but it grows near the edge of the forest.”
“I’ll go. You stay here and patch up the rest. That man there, his arm needs tending, and likely a splint by the looks of it.” Cerys wiped himself down. The cook was heaving over his bucket, and the druid gave the woman an encouraging nod before heading out.
The fresh air hit him like a prayer, and, for a moment, he let his eyes drift towards the mountain. He wondered what it must be like so high up. He wondered if… if the Vaich… He tucked his thoughts away and headed for the outskirts of town where the garden gates backed up against the forest.
Wood leather was a russet-colored plant, not easy to confuse, with large papery leaves that could serve as bandage. It was known widely amongst his kin asSecond Skin, as it could be layered over surface wounds and, if dampened, carried regenerative properties.
Cerys scoured the forest, finding a slew of young plants amongst a thicket of yews. He bent to pluck the leaves, creasing them gently and tucking them into his satchel before moving to the next.
It was deep afternoon. The sun dripped through the treetops. The branches above cast long shadows that slowly grew and spread.
He paused.
Odd.
All birdsong had ceased and the rustle of wind had gone mute. A chill crept within him.
He knew this feeling.
He took a step back. Then another. He tried to recall where he had come from, but the forest disoriented him.
It isn’t natural,he thought,it isn’t right!
Darkness crept in and with a desperate gasp he turned, his feet trying to run. But he was tethered. A hand gripped his hair and a cold silver dagger pressed against his throat.
“My… my…” A voice chuckled against his ear. Cerys fought, but their grip tightened. The blade cut into his skin. “Now, don’t struggle. Don’t you know howlongI’ve waited to meet you?”
“Who… are… you?” Cerys winced as blood dripped down his neck. His captor leaned forwards, a smile on his lips.
Pepper colored hair and grassy eyes…
An undeniable familiarity.
“A more pressing question… how does a druid come to be Queen of Cúil Cullach? I am soeagerto know your story.” His mocking whisper dropped into a hiss as he pressed the blade deeper. “Won’t you tell it to me, cousin?”
Chapter sixty
The Mountain
They walked for hours, yet the path seemed to wind and twist endlessly before them. As the afternoon sun settled above, Skyre considered making the call to turn back.
“Can you see it?” he asked Cían. The young Aard had hurried ahead, but even he now slowed in exhaustion.
“We must be close, sire!”
“How can he be so giddy when one slip would have our lives?” Torin said and the others chuckled.
Skyre knew their strength would wane, yet, with each footfall, each crest conquered, he felt it.
Pride.
