Shard
Page 58
Gwailith lowered his voice. "How will you get the black blade? Thorn Starhand might want to give it up to you, but I doubt the rest of this lot will be as obliging! They all see it as a quiffin' holy relic!"
Erin's gaze was far off. "Mithdar's goin' to try to convince him to come with us."
"Sweet Quent, Raven! The lad's soon to be married!"
Erin's wolf-grey eyes narrowed and a look of cold determination came over his dark features. "Thorn n' I be like brothers, n' there's little I would not do for him, but this be my own homeland we're talkin' about! I've family back there! What happened here can happen there! Besides, he'd not be the only person givin' up someone he cares for!"
Gwailith needed no help to cipher that particular riddle, for he had often seen the way the tall manling had looked at Zoean.
"Have you told her yet?"
"Time enough for that after Mithdar's talked with Thorn." Erin's hand on Glenrig tightened. "But know this! One way or another, when I leave here, the black blade leaves with me!"
"Be Mythdarian going with you?"
"He says he is."
"And the Chin?"
Erin grunted, glancing back over his shoulder to where Kel stood silently watching the sunset. "I doubt I could shake that bastard even if I wanted to!"
"Good! Then we'll all be havin' a grand time!"
Erin's frown deepened. Gwailith saw the startled look and clapped him soundly on the shoulder.
"Innkeeper!" he suddenly bellowed. "Another round of your best!" Then, turning to face Erin, he grinned. "Quiff, man! You didn't think you'd be leavin' me behind, did you?!
Besides, I've a sudden yearnin' to see if those mysterious Rill o' yours be indeed a lost clan o' Nim!"
The ale arrived and Erin motioned Kel over to join them. Kel moved like a shadow himself over to the small table, his left eyebrow raising as Gwailith thrust a foaming mug into his hand.
Erin motioned to an empty chair. "Sit down, man, n' be drinkin' a toast with another brave fool bound for Loamin!"
The bard, Roary Ol'Heath arrived shortly, followed by Onooga. Zoean came as well; her deep green eyes, strangely red-rimmed, never left the wolfish weaponsman. Another bottle of Granther's brew was passed around. Roary took out his harp. All there soon became lost in their own private thoughts as the bard's clear, sweet voice lifted them towards the stars --- into the world of legend.
***
THE END
A note from the author
Hello
Thank you so much for reading my novel.
I do hope you enjoyed it!
There's lots more yet to come.
Keep reading!
Wayne Mee,
Montreal, Canada
http://waynemee.webs.com/index.htm
***
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