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

by J. M. Hofer

  ***

  Arhianna lay in bed next to Jørren, listening to the breeze blowing through the trees outside.

  He squeezed her hand. “Arhianna?”

  Her heart pounded, knowing the moment she had been dreading had come at last. This is it. “Yes?”

  “I cannot stay here any longer. I fear I have stayed too long already.”

  She lay silent in the darkness, holding her breath, waiting to find out if he meant to leave her behind.

  “I want you to come with me. I love you. You are my wife. You belong with me—with our people—not here. Here, you will always be a child, just as I will always be a Saxon prisoner, indebted to your father. There is nothing for us here. Come with me. Be who you truly are. A woman. My wife. A queen.”

  Arhianna felt her heart fly at Jørren’s declaration of love. She sighed with relief, reached over and embraced her husband. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Too High a Price

  Uthyr sat beside the fire, his four hounds at his feet. He felt heavy and tired, as if his body were made of stone. Yet, for the first time in moons, he had no cause to feel tired. The war is won, the north secure, the games are over. I should feel satisfied. Victorious. Yet I feel nothing. Well, no. Not nothing. That was not entirely true. Women still excited him. One, in particular. Perhaps she’s the cure for this affliction. Anytime he thought of her, his blood leapt like a dog that hears his master coming to let him out. He had faith she could revive his sluggish heart and excite his flaccid loins. His heart was already waking with the thought of it. He drained his horn of ale.

  There was a knock at the door. “Enter,” he barked.

  Myrthin walked in, accompanied by a beautiful woman. Uthyr sat up and leaned forward on his knees, his curiosity kindled.

  “Pendragon, may I introduce Viviaine, High Priestess of Affalon.”

  Affalon?

  The woman bowed her head. Uthyr left his chair and walked over to her. He lifted her chin so he could see her face. Gods, it’s her. He smiled. “Yes, I believe we’ve met before.”

  Myrthin looked surprised, and Uthyr took note. The druid rarely looked surprised. “Why have you come to me?”

  “I wish to watch over the Sacred Grove near Mynyth Aur, and have come to ask your blessing. Myrthin has known me for many years. I have asked him to speak on my behalf.”

  Uthyr looked at Myrthin, who nodded in agreement. “I have searched moons for someone worthy enough to take my place as guardian of the grove, so that I might serve you fully. With Taliesin gone and likely never to return, I sought out the Lady Viviaine. Believe me, we could not be any more fortunate than to have her take over as guardian.”

  Uthyr looked down at Viviaine and then over at Myrthin. His mind began to twist and turn, visiting all of the possible responses he might give. Fate has delivered two of the most powerful druids in all of Brython to my court. They want my blessing. In return for my help, could they not help me find a way to take Igerna for my queen?

  “Not only will I will grant you my blessing, I’ll also provide you with escorts and provisions, as befits your noble station, my lady.”

  Viviaine and Myrthin looked quite pleased, so Uthyr pressed them. “I would like a favor in return, however. There is something I desire that I cannot obtain on my own.”

  Myrthin furrowed his brow. “What could that possibly be, Pendragon? Surely, nothing lies outside your grasp.”

  Uthyr smiled. “But there is someone—the Lady Igerna.”

  Myrthin raised his brows. “Gorlois’ wife?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. If you recall, we met when we first returned home. Amlawth was our first ally. I wanted her from the first moment I saw her, but I could not marry then—my brother needed me, God rest his soul.” He looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering if such a thing might truly be possible. The idea thrilled him. “I must have her. If even for one night. If you can make this possible, you shall have what you’ve asked for.”

  Viviaine put a hand on Myrthin’s arm. “May I speak?”

  Myrthin nodded, and Viviaine stepped forward to address Uthyr. “It is your right as Pendragon to have any woman within your territories.”

  Uthyr was well-aware of this, but to exercise it would cost him too much. “I realize this, but I cannot risk losing Gorlois’ support over a woman.”

  Viviaine narrowed her eyes on him. “So, you wish simply to lie with her?”

  “For now, yes.”

  Myrthin spoke up. “Would you like us to bring her to you? There are magic arts of disguise we can employ. None would recognize her.”

  Yes, but they would surely miss her if she disappeared from her home for a week. Uthyr began to feel like a lusty fool. What am I thinking? He could not expect Igerna to leave Dumnonia and journey to Caer Lundein just to lie with him. If only I could be Gorlois for a night. He often wished to be in the man’s shoes, living at the edge of the world, with Igerna in his bed. Lucky bastard. Then, something occurred to him. “You say you have magic which imparts disguise?”

  Myrthin looked at Viviaine, who nodded. “Yes, Pendragon.”

  “Could you, perhaps, make me appear to be Gorlois?”

  Myrthin’s expression changed, the corner of his mouth turning up on one side. “We could.”

  Uthyr felt a rush of devious pleasure at the brilliance of his plan. I can rid myself of this lustful curse, have her any time I wish, and neither she nor Gorlois will know of it. She will remain his faithful wife, guiltless, and I need not cuckold my most loyal commander.

  He rose. “I need some rest. Pack your things, both of you. We leave for Dumnonia tomorrow.”

  ***

  “But I did nothing wrong!” Igerna insisted. I’m tired. I want to sleep. Please, let this end. She felt on the verge of tears. She rolled away from her husband and did her best not to weep.

  “Not with your actions or your words, perhaps—but in your heart, you’ve already betrayed me.” He took her shoulder and turned her back towards him. “I’m not a young man, Igerna. There are few benefits to age, but one is knowing how to read a person. I know you want him. I can feel it and I can see it, no matter how you try to hide it. I also know it’s your duty to deny your desires, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I believe you.”

  She could not argue with him anymore. He’s right. She sighed and took his hand. He does not deserve this. He’s a good husband. Over the past few days, a dark resentment for Uthyr had begun to grow in her. Everything was fine, and he’s ruined it.

  Gorlois turned her face toward his and looked into her eyes. “You’re mine—my wife. The mother of my child, for God’s sake. He has his choice of thousands of women, yet the selfish bastard wants to take you from me!” Gorlois shook his head. “I’ve denied the man nothing since the day I met him, but you, he cannot have.”

  Igerna put her arms around Gorlois and rested her head on his chest.

  At last, he let her sleep.

  ***

  Gorlois, normally calm and patient, grew steadily more agitated as the days passed. Since returning from Caer Lundein, he had been unable to perform in the bedchamber. It was as if he had been cursed. Igerna felt compassion for him and took the blame upon herself, but her efforts seemed only to frustrate him further.

  His temper grown raw, he snapped at her and the servants often. She felt at a loss, not knowing what to do to reassure him. Nothing she did helped. The silence between them grew so heavy, she could no longer stand to be in the same room with him. He became like a mistreated dog, grown cruel and untrusting, and she feared his bite.

  She prayed nightly for things to change. Relief finally came one morning just before dawn. She was sitting by the hearth nursing Morgause when Gorlois burst in, causing his daughter’s little hands to jump out of her blanket.

  “I must go to Exeter and a few other settlements to check on the garrisons. I’ll be gone two moons or so—maybe more.” He came over, kissed he
r cheek and Morgause’s forehead, and left.

  Igerna went up to the wall and watched as Gorlois left with a company of his men. The moment their figures disappeared on the horizon, she felt as if she had become weightless. It was as if Din Tagell had been trapped in the cold and dark of winter and spring had suddenly come to thaw the entire castle from its grasp.

  Igerna committed herself to enjoying every moment of the peace left in his wake. She sent word to Mynyth Aur, asking Arhianna to come and visit, hopeful she would say yes. The two of them would have reign of the castle and do as they liked until Gorlois returned.

  While she waited for Arhianna’s reply, she made an effort to stay as active as possible. She rode her horse every morning and made changes she had been longing to make to the household. At night, she let Morgause and her maid sleep in her bed with her, grateful to be free from Gorlois’ disappointing embrace.

  ***

  Someone opened the door to her chamber. Igerna turned to see her maid standing under its arch, her hands folded. “My lady, Duke Gorlois has returned.”

  “What?” Igerna jumped up and tossed her embroidery aside. “Are you certain?” Morgause looked up with large brown eyes, wondering what had caused her mother to move so quickly. She held up the tiny wooden horse she had been slobbering on and squealed. Igerna pulled the maid inside the room. “Stay here and watch the baby.”

  She gathered her skirts and ran up the tower stairs to the top of the wall, which provided the best view of the road below. She spied a lone rider approaching, the wind blowing his cloak sideways. Though the sun was nearly down, she recognized her husband’s form well. But he said two moons! She sighed, feeling as if someone had just wrapped a heavy cloak around her shoulders.

  She scolded herself as she descended the tower, resolving to be the wife she had promised to be. She barked orders at the servants, doing what she could to ready the castle to receive its lord. She went back to her chamber and tossed orders to the maid. “Wash Morgause’s face, and check to see she’s dry.” Igerna donned a nicer robe and put on the most recent necklace Gorlois had given her. She looked out the window as she combed her hair, hoping the wind would slow him down a bit.

  She looked over at the maid. “Let’s go down.” The maid followed her, Morgause balanced on her hip.

  She ensured the entire household was lined up and waiting for him in the main hall. She stood tall and forced herself to smile at him when he entered.

  He burst through the doors breathless, as if he were running from something. Igerna glanced at Morgause and felt a bolt of fear rip through her. She ran to his side and grabbed his arm. “What’s wrong? Why are you alone? What’s happened to your men?”

  He looked down at her, grabbed her face in his hands, and kissed her with more passion than she had ever felt from him before. She felt stunned, yet excited. “Take me to your chamber,” he whispered in her ear. He turned and addressed the servants. “We’re not to be disturbed.”

  He looked at her and gave her a nod, signaling she should lead the way. She walked up to her chamber and he followed. She could feel his eyes on her as she climbed the stairs. What’s happened to him? Did he visit a midwife or druid? He’s clearly taken some kind of herb.

  They reached the chamber, and Gorlois shut and locked the door behind them. He pulled her robe off, carried her to the bed, and covered her naked body with kisses. He stripped off his clothes to reveal a much younger looking physique. “What’s happened to you?” She slid her hands over his body, marveling at how much stronger he looked.

  Her touch seemed to ignite some hidden fire inside of him. He made love to her like a man starving for her flesh, and her flesh only, clutching at her body and devouring her with his lips and tongue. His manhood was thick and strong again, his ego healed. He satisfied her several times in the night. In between, while they slumbered, he never let his hands part from her body.

  “You’ve been to a witch or druid, haven’t you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Even his voice sounded different, but he was right—it did not matter to her how the change had come about. She did not care. She felt glorious and alive, her dread turned to grateful happiness.

  ***

  Igerna woke the next morning awash in bliss, and, each morning hence, it grew. After returning from Caer Lundein, she had lost hope that her marriage could be healed, yet, somehow, it had become better than it ever was before. God or the Great Mother, for she had prayed to both, had heard her fervent supplications and taken mercy on her.

  The only thing that bothered her about him now was his seeming loss of interest in Morgause. He no longer asked to hold her, or bent down to kiss her forehead while she nursed. He seemed wholly disinterested, in truth. Perhaps he’s concerned with other matters. Children are for women to raise, after all. Give it some time. He’ll come around.

  ***

  Igerna woke to the sound of yelling coming up the stairs. She sat up, confused, and saw Gorlois had already jumped out of bed and had his sword poised.

  “Oh, gods. We’re under attack.” Morgause. She jumped out of bed and raced for the door, but Gorlois put out a hand and stopped her. “Get behind me!”

  Gorlois unlocked the door, ready to face their attacker, who burst into the room a moment later.

  “Whore!” the attacker cried. He lunged at her in the half-light, his sword poised to run her through. She shrieked and ran for cover, cowering in the darkness at the far end of the chamber as the sound of metal against metal echoed harshly in the stone room. It was not long before she heard the sound of a blade being buried into flesh, a cry, and a heavy thud.

  Servants came running down the hall, torches in hand. When the firelight filled the room, all gasped with shock. Gorlois was standing over a man who could only be his twin brother, watching him bleed to death.

  A wave of panic came over Igerna. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. This can’t be happening. She leaned against the wall, her hands covering her mouth, shock strangling the screams in her throat.

  Gorlois moved toward her with a tentative step but she held her hand out in defense. In her heart, she knew which of the two men before her was truly her husband.

  “Demon!” she cried. “Get out! You’re not welcome here! By all that’s holy, I banish you from this house! Leave! Now!”

  The demon did not argue. He ran from Din Tagell, out into the night, leaving Igerna shaking and afraid.

  The servants were terrified as well, concerned for their mistress. “No one is to breathe a word of this to anyone, or I’ll have you hanged. The story you tell the world is that the castle was attacked and Gorlois died defending me. Now, leave me.”

  The servants stood as still as stone, staring at the grisly scene with their mouths open.

  “I said, get out!”

  Shocked by her cry, they rushed out, crossing themselves and mumbling.

  Igerna fell to her knees beside the body of her dead husband and sobbed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  King takes Queen

  Uthyr rode for Caer Lundein, his hands sticky with Gorlois’ blood. His stomach churned with regret. Gorlois, what have I done? You didn’t deserve to die like this, my friend. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.

  He swore into the night as he thundered along the Dumnonian coast. The wind answered back, harsh, cold and salty, as if it were a faithful servant of Gorlois, incensed by the injustice done to its master. He welcomed its fierce lashes upon his face and skin. I am a demon, Igerna. I am. It was to be for a few days only—but I’m a selfish, greedy bastard.

  He felt his features change as the night wore on, slipping back into their customary places, but the image of Gorlois’ body lying face down in a pool of blood stayed with him, refusing to fade with the hours.

  She can never know the truth. I will send my condolences, give her time to grieve, and then send for her. The demon inside of him felt a surge of satisfaction at the prospect, compounding his shame. As puni
shment, he refused to eat or sleep until he reached his destination. He had to be there before the news came that the Duke of Cornwall had been murdered in the night.

  ***

  “What happened?” Viviaine asked Uthyr as he rode into the courtyard. She had remained in Caer Lundein, awaiting his return. It had been nearly a moon, now. He looked as if he had spent that time in a dank prison cell, not the bed of the woman he loved. His eyes were bloodshot with greyish bags beneath them. He hands shook and he looked as if he had lost a half-stone or so. The black hung heavy all around him, like a shadow. Death. But his own, or another’s?

  Uthyr dismounted and nearly fell to the ground. Servants rushed to his side but he pushed them away. He looked at her and motioned toward the main door. “Get Myrthin and meet me in my hall.”

  “He is there already, Pendragon.”

  “Good.” Uthyr pushed open the heavy door from the courtyard, walked down the corridor and into the hall. Viviaine followed, eager to know what had happened. The servants had lit the fire in the hearth and brought food and ale. Uthyr grabbed the pitcher, dragged a chair next to the fire and sat down. He filled his drinking horn and drained it twice before he spoke. “I’ve killed Gorlois.”

  Ah. Not his own death, then. Viviaine shot a furtive glance at Myrthin, but neither of them said anything.

  Uthyr leaned on his elbows and put his forehead in his hands. “I shouldn’t have stayed so long. He came in the middle of the night and found us in her bed. He would have run her through. He left me no choice.”

  Viviaine found it interesting that he did not regret his deception. Only that he had been caught. “So, Igerna saw the two of you, together, in the same room?”

  “She did.”

  Viviaine raised her brows at the thought. “That must have been a shock for her, poor woman.”

  “It was. She called me a demon, which I am. I ran from the castle and have been traveling since then.”