Free 0857664360 by Susan Murray

Those who possess the gift are fewer and fewer with every year. And here in the west…”
    The old man lapsed into silence, his expression taking on that far-off look that Drew had come to recognise as a visitation by the sight. Gwydion’s breathing slowed, and Drew watched with closer attention than usual. The notion that he too possessed the sight was an enticing one. Might he one day ascend to the rank of seer, perhaps really be heir to Gwydion’s learning? Oh, yes, he watched closely as never before. Gwydion’s breathing deepened, as if he took every ounce of strength from each inward breath then held that strength as he exhaled. The man’s body stilled, as the breaths came further and further apart and his eyelids closed. Yet this was not some idle doze, but a state somehow attuned to the silence surrounding them. Drew settled down with his back against the cavern wall to watch and wait.
    Finally Gwydion stirred. Gnarled fingers twitched in an effort to raise his hands from the arms of the chair where he had remained immobile for the past hour or more. Drew pushed himself to his feet, ready to lend assistance, but Gwydion raised one shaking hand to stop him.
    “These old bones grow loath to do my bidding. Bring Brother Francis to help me, lad. I must speak with Father Garrad.”
    Drew did not have far to go to find Brother Francis: he was hurrying up the slope to the cave entrance, ungainly in his haste, a lantern bobbing wildly in his hand.
    Drew waited by the entrance. “Brother Gwydion wishes to speak to Father Garrad. He–”
    Francis gestured him out of the way. “I know what my master requires. Your gift is not as rare as you would like to think, boy. Nor as powerful.” Francis pushed past Drew and ducked into the tunnel. His sandals slapped on stone as he hurried across the cavern to Gwydion’s side.
    “Master, you must save your strength.” Francis bent low beside Gwydion, taking the frail hand in his own.
    “I have a vain fancy to feel daylight on my face one last time.”
    “Master, you must not speak so. And besides, it is night now.”
    “Is it so? That is a shame. I would have preferred sunlight.” Gwydion pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “Help me now, Francis. You, too, Drew. I need you both.”
    “But master, can this not wait until morning, when you are rested?” Francis supported the old man by the arm, not sparing a glance for Drew as he hurried to take his other arm.
    “No, Francis, it cannot wait. I have seen the end and it is not far distant. But I have seen other things, too. Garrad must heed my words this time. He thinks me an old fool lost in the shadows, beyond reach of reason. He cannot understand the darkness as I do.” With their support he shuffled towards the entrance. “And if our good father does not pay heed this time, I fear the darkness will engulf him.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    Alwenna woke at a hand shaking her shoulder. She sat up with a start, shivering, trying to recall where they’d halted the night before. The days had merged in an exhausting round of too many hours spent in the saddle interspersed with too few hours of sleep.
    “I’ve brewed some kopamid.” Weaver held an earthenware beaker out towards her.
    Of course, they’d stopped in the forest some time after dark. Weaver had been short with her since the incident on the ridge. This had to be his way of apologising.
    “You lit a fire?” She rubbed her eyes, then surveyed the surrounding forest for a discreet place for her morning ablutions. Fires and hot drinks were all very well, but what she missed most on this journey was the privacy of a garderobe.
    “We’ll be gone soon enough. I thought you might be glad of it.” Unsmiling, he pressed the hot beaker into her hands.
    “Thank you.” She inhaled the rich aroma, stronger than she remembered it. “I haven’t tasted kopamid for a long time.”
    “I brought this back from The Marches. It’s good for a chill morning.”
    She sipped at