Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3)

by J. M. Hofer

  Aelhaearn breathed deeply. He felt proud to be the deliverer of the future king’s final victory. He knew that Emrys would soon be the High King of Brython, like his father before him. And he has me to thank for it.

  ***

  The men of Aelhaearn’s regiment soon discovered his prize and rallied around him, drunk with victory. One by one, they came to inspect the corpse, and then slapped him on the back in congratulations. “You’ve done it! You killed the usurper himself! I can’t believe it!”

  The news soon spread across the wall, and shortly, all of them were shouting, “Aelhaearn!”

  It had not been since the night he had been named chieftain that Aelhaearn had felt so appreciated. Emotion overcame him, and he cried out, “Victory is ours!”

  All were shocked he had spoken, but none as much as Aelhaearn himself.

  “Gods, man! You can talk? You bastard!” The soldier mock-punched him. “We thought you were mute!”

  Aelhaearn did not attempt to answer for fear it had been but a fleeting oversight from the master of his curse.

  “Well, then, now that we know your tongue’s not cut out, you’ll not escape telling the tale tonight. Let’s get your prize down to Emrys.”

  The men picked up Vortigern’s corpse and led the way down to the courtyard, cheering.

  Aelhaearn followed behind them, whispering to himself, testing his voice. It was still there. But for how long? Anxiety seized him. Please, no…please. He began mumbling to himself, fearing that if he fell silent, his voice might disappear again. Nearly an hour passed before he dared to stop.

  The mountain, camp and fortress were soon engulfed in the chaos of victory, enabling him to slip away for a moment to a place of solitude. With a pounding heart, he attempted to say his name aloud.

  “Ael--haearn.” His voice trembled and broke. He fought the urge to weep.

  ***

  Later that night, the army drank Vortigern’s ale, thankfully rescued from the inferno, and feasted on his game. It was not long before Camulos came looking for Aelhaearn.

  Camulos’ face lit up upon seeing him. “Well done, friend.” He grabbed him in an embrace and then pulled back, holding him by the shoulders. “Though these men may not know it, this triumph belongs to you.”

  Aelhaearn found himself reluctant to answer and reveal his even better news. Why? He did not know.

  “Come,” Camulos said, leading him away. “Emrys wishes to see you.”

  Aelhaearn nodded and swallowed hard. “Something has happened to me,” he blurted.

  Camulos stopped in his tracks and snapped around to face him, dumbfounded. “Gods be good, man! You can talk?”

  ***

  Aelhaearn was announced and then led into Emrys’ tent. Emrys looked up and gave a nod of respect in Aelhaearn’s direction. “I understand it is largely to you that we owe this victory.”

  Aelhaearn shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his feet.

  “Camulos promised you would be valuable in battle. We had no idea how right he was.”

  “Thank you, High Commander,” Aelhaearn responded, still shocked by the sound of his own voice. He reached up and felt his throat, struggling a bit. “Apologies, my King,” he managed to say. “I have been mute for many years. A curse for my past wickedness, which I dare not speak of. Today, my voice returned to me. I don’t know why.” He felt his throat constrict. He chided himself. He had not felt the urge to weep in years. That, too, felt foreign.

  Aelhaearn’s confession seemed to fascinate Emrys more than the story of how he had won them their victory that day. “You were mute before today, you say?”

  Aelhaearn nodded.

  Emrys came over and touched Aelhaearn’s throat, clearly inspired. “It is a miracle, then,” he whispered. “God has blessed you.”

  Aelhaearn felt a strange feeling come over him.

  “Look at me.”

  Aelhaearn met his commander’s eyes.

  “Perhaps you were a wicked man in your past, but now you fight for me, and the banner I carry serves our Lord and Savior. I have come to rebuild the churches that have fallen into ruin and set right the wrongs that have been done to our people. As a warrior for me, you are also a warrior for the one true God, Christ Jesus. Whatever sins you have committed, you are now redeemed.”

  Aelhaearn cast his eyes down in shame.

  “You doubt the truth of this?”

  Aelhaearn shook his head. “I can never be redeemed, High Commander. I betrayed my clan, and the woman I love. For that, there is no forgiveness. Not by any god.”

  “And yet, here you are, speaking to me,” Emrys pointed out. “Would you insult the Lord by denying His grace?”

  “I would not,” Aelhaearn replied quickly, afraid he had offended his benefactor.

  Emrys beckoned to him. “Rise and sit with me. The rest of you, leave us.”

  The others left, and Emrys motioned to a seat. Aelhaearn sat down and Emrys handed him a cup of ale. “Vortigern’s finest. Enjoy. You’ve earned it.”

  Aelhaearn took a grateful swallow.

  Emrys nodded his approval and looked him in the eye. “Do you know the story of Saul of Tarsus, on the road to Damascus?”

  Aelhaearn shook his head. “No, High Commander. I’ve not heard of him.”

  Emrys nodded. “Saul was a Pharisee of Jerusalem,” he began, “and never was there a man more wicked or cruel. His was a heart without mercy. He tirelessly persecuted those who followed the ways of the Lord. So great was his anger and disgust toward the Christians, that, in his zeal, he appealed to the high priest of Jerusalem to write letters to the synagogues in Damascus so that he might go and seek out any in that land who dared proclaim the Lord Jesus as the Messiah. Those he found, whether men or women, he brought back to Jerusalem in chains.” Emrys then leaned closer, his green eyes flashing in the candlelight. “Do you know what happened then?”

  Aelhaearn shook his head, for, in that moment, he had forgotten he could speak.

  “As Saul neared Damascus, a light from heaven flashed around him, causing him to fall to the ground as if he had been struck by lightning. A voice overcame him, filling his ears and mind, and said, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’

  “Saul asked, ’Who are you?’

  “The voice answered, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Now rise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.’

  “Saul struggled to his feet, but when he opened his eyes, he could see nothing. His men had to lead him by the hand into Damascus and find him refuge at the house of a man named Judas. For three days, Saul remained blind and did not eat or drink anything.” Emrys stopped a moment. “Why do you think this happened to him?”

  Aelhaearn knew very well what had happened to him. “He angered the god of the Christians, and was cursed for it.”

  Emrys shook his head. “That is what would happen with the gods of old, but the Lord dealt with Saul another way. In Damascus there lived a disciple, named Ananias. The Lord called to Ananias in a vision. ‘Ananias,’ he said, ‘go to the house of Judas on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul, for he is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias come and place his hands on him to restore his sight.’

  “Ananias, of course, had heard of Saul’s horrible persecution of his people and was frightened to do what the Lord asked. ‘Lord,’ he said, ‘I have heard many reports about this man, and all the harm he has done to your holy people in Jerusalem. He has come here with authority from the chief priests to arrest all who call on your name.’

  “But the Lord said to Ananias, ‘Go! This man is my chosen instrument to proclaim my name to the Gentiles and their kings and to the people of Israel. l. I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.’

  “So, Ananias went to the house of Judas and placed his hands upon Saul. ‘Brother Saul,’ he said, “the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on the road as you traveled here, has sent me so that you may see again, and be filled w
ith the Holy Spirit.’ At that moment, scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he could see again.”

  After a moment of silence, Aelhaearn asked, “What did he do, then?”

  “He sought baptism and changed his name to Paul. From that moment on, he became one of the Lord’s most fervent and devoted apostles, converting thousands.”

  Emrys then walked over to Aelhaearn, and placed his hand upon his shoulder. “I believe it was the Lord Jesus who restored your voice, just as he granted Paul his vision. Serve him in all things, and, I promise you, you shall find your soul made whole again.”

  Aelhaearn could manage nothing more than a nod. He felt a wave of relief when Emrys dismissed him. He knew nothing of this strange god Emrys spoke of, or the people or places he had mentioned, but if he had indeed broken Arawn’s curse, he owed him his life.

  He fled to the nearby woods and sobbed for the first time since his wife died in childbirth.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Arhianna’s Return

  Arhianna and Irwyn entered the hall to find Elffin by the fire, bent over a ledger. He looked up as he heard them come in. After a moment of staring, he stood up and took a tentative step toward them. “Arhianna?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  He came and took her hands in his. “Dear girl! Do your parents know you’re here?”

  “No.” Arhianna did not know where to begin. “It’s a long story.”

  “I imagine it is!”

  He opened his mouth to ask another question, but Arhianna answered it before he could ask. “Taliesin isn’t with me. He left us over a year ago.”

  The smile on Lord Elffin’s face faded. He looked down at their clasped hands, squeezed hers, and gave a nod of acceptance.

  Arhianna felt compelled to comfort him. “Don’t worry—I’m sure he’s safe.”

  He looked back up at her. “I hope you’re right.”

  Arhianna surveyed the room, noting the many servants milling about. “Lord Elffin, is there somewhere the three of us might speak in private?”

  “Yes, of course. Follow me.” Elffin led them out of the hall to a small chamber and shut the door behind them. Irwyn pulled a few chairs in front of the fire, they all took a seat, and Arhianna began to explain how she had come to Gwythno.

  “I sailed to Thanet with my husband and our clan, but events came to pass that forced me to flee.”

  “What happened? Were you mistreated?” Irwyn demanded. “Gods help those bastards if you were. I will spear their—“

  Arhianna held up a hand to cut Irwyn off before he could finish his speech. “No, no—I wasn’t mistreated. Leaving was my choice.”

  Elffin’s concerned expression remained. He was clearly not satisfied with the brevity of her answer. “How did you get here? By ship?”

  “No…”

  Both men stared at her with furrowed brows.

  “Let me start at the beginning,” she offered. She patiently relayed her tale, beginning with Hengist’s invitation to settle in Thanet and her husband’s acceptance of his offer. She then moved on to the dishonor Hengist demanded of her husband by requiring him to participate in his treacherous plan at Ambrius and the subsequent ultimatum she had given him.

  Elffin raised his brows. “So you left him?”

  Arhianna looked down at her hands. “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “I set out for home.”

  Irwyn’s eyes widened. “From Thanet? Alone?”

  “Yes. It was foolish.”

  Before Irwyn could agree with her, she went on to tell them of her chance meeting with Amlawth and Igerna in Calleva and how he had insisted she stay with his family in Dumnonia.

  “We know Amlawth well,” Elffin said, glancing at Irwyn. “We sail regularly to Totnes to trade with him. He’s a shrewd buyer with an eye for quality.”

  “His wife and daughters have expensive taste,” Irwyn added.

  “Yes, they do.” Arhianna smiled, picturing Igerna in her beautiful dresses and her mother’s stunning collection of jewels.

  “So you spent the winter in Dumnonia, and then?”

  “As soon as the weather changed, Amlawth organized a party to escort me home. He bought one of Gareth’s swords and wanted to speak to my father about commissioning more. Everything was fine for the first few days, but we were attacked by brigands not far from Caer Glou.”

  Elffin looked at her with raised eyebrows. “And? Please don’t tell me he’s been killed.”

  “No,” Arhianna assured him. “I made certain of that, but, I’m not sure at what cost.”

  Elffin knit his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Neither Amlawth nor his men had ever seen any power such as mine and were quite shaken by it.”

  “You used your Firebrand,” Irwyn concluded.

  “Yes.”

  The men looked at one another and then back at her, their expressions grave.

  “Times are changing, Arhianna,” Elffin said after a moment. “Such power should never be used among strangers.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t stand by and do nothing!” She felt a wave of indignance at his comment, but she knew Elffin was right. She would never forget how Amlawth’s men looked at her—as if she were a poisonous snake, or an evil omen.

  “I understand why you did it,” Elffin said in a sympathetic tone, “but you must realize most people will fear you.”

  Elffin’s words seemed to drain her of any happiness she had left in her heart. He must have noticed, because he changed the subject. “You’re always safe here, however, and in Mynyth Aur among your own people, of course.”

  “I know.”

  Elffin gave her a smile of reassurance. “So,” he continued, “you survived the attack, and then?”

  “We continued on to Caer Glou. But something strange happened to me there.”

  “What?”

  Arhianna then told them about the old woman she had noticed on the road, who had later appeared in her room that night, and the frightening warning she had given her.

  Irwyn rubbed his chin. “So you left Caer Glou and came here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And,” he prompted, “do you believe you are being hunted?”

  She turned her palms up in defeat. “I don’t know. But I dared not ignore the warning.”

  “Think. Who could she be warning you about?”

  Arhianna thought of everyone who might possibly want to capture her—everyone who knew, or could have learned, about her Firebrand. “My husband and my people know of my power. And now, because of the incident on the road, Amlawth and his men know of it as well.” She thought again of Cynwal and felt a pain in her stomach. The idea of him being her betrayer was unbearable. Please, let it not be Cynwal.

  Irwyn caught her gaze, bringing her back from her thoughts. “And Hengist. He knows.”

  “What?” Arhianna felt her stomach leap.

  “Your husband and his clan know of your power. You abandoned them both. Do you not think there are those among your husband’s clan who would reveal your power to Hengist to gain his favor?”

  Arhianna felt nauseous. Though she had become beloved by many in her adopted clan, she knew there were a few whom she never felt trusted her or accepted her as their queen. What Irwyn proposed was quite possible.

  Irwyn did not ask anything more. “It does not matter. You were warned, and now, you are safe. I will escort you home tomorrow, before anyone learns you are here.”

  Elffin nodded. “No one can know you were here. Once you’re home, you’ll be safe.”

  “Will I?”

  “Your father will protect you.”

  Of course, but at what expense? She felt anxious. She did not want her homecoming stained with blood.

  ***

  Arhianna and Irwyn left the next day before dawn. The idea of seeing her family filled her with joyful anticipation, but the closer they got to Mynyth Aur, the more nervous she became—as if, somehow, at the last minute, something t
errible would happen to prevent her from reaching her destination.

  “How much longer?” she asked Irwyn again. She had only been to Gwythno a few times and could not remember how long the journey was.

  Irwyn glanced over and smiled at her. “Soon. We will be there before sundown.”

  She nodded and returned to her thoughts, pondering the imminent reunion with her family. What will they say? What will they look like? So much has happened. Where will I begin?

  She felt especially anxious about seeing her mother. She had never forgotten the anger and sadness on her face the day of their parting. It had haunted her since then, returning to her often and causing her heart to ache. Will she welcome me back? Or be disappointed that I made her suffer so much only to abandon my husband?

  Jørren. The now familiar twinge of sorrow she experienced whenever she pictured his face gripped her. She squeezed the reins in her hands and swallowed hard. The wind blustered enough that Irwyn did not hear her as she whispered, “Where are you, my love?” She often sent Jørren messages upon the wind. It comforted her. She felt that, somehow, wherever he was, he could hear her. “Jørren…I love you…I ache for you…Forgive me. Please don’t forsake me.”

  ***

  As the afternoon shadows grew long, Arhianna began to recognize the features of the landscape. Her heartbeat quickened as she anticipated riding into the village she grew up in.

  Irwyn looked over and smiled at her. “Almost there.”

  The road ran along the river until it met with the great forest that was home to Islwyn’s grove. There, it forked.

  Arhianna smiled and took the road to the left. Soon, she saw Mynyth Aur rising majestically in the distance. Nestled within its green skirts encircled by a high slate wall, she spied their destination—the village of her childhood. She squinted, picking out the motherhouse and the stables, and watched as smoke curled into the air from the forge. Tears welled up in her eyes.