Free The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) by C.M. Gray Page A

through thick veils of consciousness that needed to be parted and pushed away as dreams and distractions sought to hold on to him, to lure him back into their deep, warm, languid embrace. But the thought of sweet, cool water drew him on, each effort to reach the surface taking him closer and closer until…
    'Water… water…' He heard voices, he couldn't tell what they were saying, and his eyes remained stubbornly closed so he couldn't see who was close to him. He felt his head lifted gently, and a rough, cold object touched against his lips. Water spilled, dribbling down his cheeks into his beard and he opened his mouth, desperate to feel it enter, and then he felt the cold bite of it pass his teeth, flow over his parched tongue and then trickle down into his throat. Which of course made him cough and splutter, and sent his head spinning.
    Once he had recovered, he drank again, this time managing to swallow some without coughing it back up. All too soon it was taken away, and his head gently laid back down. He was exhausted. There were still voices, but he couldn't tell what was being said. His head hurt, it was pounding, and his eyes seemed to be glued shut, he couldn't open them. He reached up with trembling fingers and teased first one and then the other open. Light exploded in his head, and he snapped his eyes shut again, rubbing at them with clenched fists, a low moan escaping his cracked lips. As his head was lifted a second time, he managed to open his eyes, just a little, to see the proffered cup.
    'Drink my Lord… please.'
    Uther sipped a little more and glanced up into the face of Maude. He stared at her mouth, which was a thin hard line of concern; it was strangely fascinating.
    'I shall tell the Abbess that you have awoken, my Lord. They have been praying for you; there always seems to be a few here,' - she glanced about her at the empty cell - 'they must have stepped out. I prayed to the old Gods,' she whispered, 'I knew you would return.' She smiled down at him and lowered his head once more. Uther closed his eyes, the efforts of drinking having already taxed his strength.
    As his mind sought rest, his head filled with images of battle and the memories of his humiliating final days, riding tied to his horse as a figurehead for his warriors, and of Maude ever at his side. That his life had come to this, a life that at one time had felt so blessed and charmed as he undertook to bring the tribes together under the single Pendragon banner. Tribes that for years had existed in peace yet had been held apart under their separate identities and subject to the rule of Rome. And then one day, the Romans had departed, just packed up their carts and gone, but Saxons from the continent had been quick to recognise the opportunity. Firstly they had raided, attacking the small settlements close to the coast, killing, raping and burning before taking to their boats and the safety of the sea. But then, once they found so little resistance, they began to arrive in greater numbers upon the shores of what the Romans had called Britain, what Uther and his friends had simply called home, and the Saxons, and then the Jutes, and Angles, began to settle in greater numbers.
    Uther had just been a boy, leading a happy, easy childhood in an Iceni village, until through a series of events that still seemed somewhat of a blur, he had found himself rising to become leader of the united tribes. He had gone on to spend many years clashing with the Saxons, trying to force them back towards the eastern coast while the Saxons sought to push the Celts back towards the west while they took full control and settled the fertile lands, first of the Iceni and then the Trinovantes and Catuvellauni. To the frustration of the tribes, more and more boats had arrived every year after the winter storms, each longboat carrying more Saxons, Jutes and Angles from across the sea, - desperate, aggressive people that not only made war but were greedy for the