Haven 3 Shadow Magic (Haven Series 3) by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online

body was that of a young teen. The light of the overlarge moon reflected from him, so that his smooth skin seemed a luminescent white.
    “Are you not the Axeman? Did you not wield Ambros tonight, and then set it aside unaided?” asked Oberon, almost in a whisper.
    “Yes, but only after slaying with uncontrolled bloodlust,” said Brand.
    “There! The proof is in thy own words! Thou art the axe’s master, child. For none, young Axeman, can set aside the axe unaided, save for its master.”
    Brand blinked at him. He looked down at the axe. His hand trembled as he reached out and grasped the haft of it. To his surprise, his mind did not leave him. His thoughts were rougher than before, but they were still his own.

    * * *

    Telyn had been restless in Brand’s absence. None of the party had been idle, but Telyn found the waiting very hard indeed. She felt each hour tick by since Brand vanished upon the Faerie mound. The ticking was extremely difficult to endure. The pain of separation took her by surprise. She’d always been a free spirit, and was unaccustomed to pining away for anyone. She’d liked boys before, but had never felt great anguish at their absence. Out of sight, out of mind, that’s how it had always been with her.
    She had to admit to herself her feelings for Brand had grown curiously over these last weeks. She had not been an innocent before…but with Brand, matters had taken a more serious course. She even wondered at moments if they might marry one distant day—should they both survive this perilous time.
    Overwhelmed by an urge to do something, she slipped out of the camp in the midst of the night when Brand had vanished upon the mound. She did not intend to follow him—to spy on him. But she had to admit to herself, she wanted to do precisely that. She kept thinking about what might have happened to him. That he was only a mooncalf river-boy, one who was even more sheltered in the ways of the world than was normal for citizens of the Haven. Could he really stand up to a pack of the Shining Folk, even with his fancy axe? What if he were lying upon the mound wounded, bleeding out his lifeblood into the grasses? No one would be there to hear his weak cries. They might come look in the morning to find his cold eyes staring into the bright sun, with dew droplets forming on his motionless lashes.
    Telyn had to go look for him. She could not help herself. Confident in her own skills of stealth and flight, if not fighting, she slipped away over the crumbling walls and crept out of the circles of light formed by the fires. She ran lightly across wet grasses and did not halt until she stood at the foot of the mound.
    It was bigger than it looked in the distance. Surely, it had to have been a great king they had buried here. Perhaps it was an entire family. She wondered briefly what they’d been like, and if their name had indeed been Rabing, as Myrrdin had suggested.
    A soft sensation came to her as she eyed the quiet scene. Was it a sight or a sound? Oddly, she wasn’t sure at first, thinking perhaps it was both. The moonlight seemed to brighten overhead as she stood there. Then the music came clear and swelled in volume, and she knew the truth. It was a lute, with a masterful player plucking the strings. The lute was her favorite, she thought. How had the player known?
    “Step forward musician, that I may know you,” she said. She hoped desperately it would not be the Dark Bard. She did not want to think for a second she had enjoyed the sweet music of a dead-thing.
    A figure walked around the mound toward her. He was a glimmering figure—like a man, but smaller and more lithe. He looked both young and ancient at the same time. His face was full of cheer and sadness in equal measure. Seeing his fine features, Telyn’s breath caught in her lungs and she had to tell herself to continue breathing. His strumming continued, and it filled the air with sweet music.
    “Don’t you like my playing, maiden of