Haven Magic by B. V. Larson Read Free Book Online Page B

tried to look calm, but he really wanted to shudder. He controlled himself with difficulty, managing a small nod. He didn’t want to look like a scared little boy in front of Telyn.

    * * *

    “I’ve been seeing and feeling odd things as well,” he said. Then he told her about the shadow man and the owl, managing to hold her hand in his and lean close to her fair face the entire time. He only edited the truth slightly, not mentioning that he had slipped to the deck of the ferry in numb fear.
    Telyn’s eyes unfocused and flittered from spot to spot while he spoke. She nodded to herself frequently. Brand knew she was thinking rapidly, her quick mind coming up with a scheme. He could recall her looking like that before he had gotten into the most daring of his childhood adventures. The River only knew what she would come up with.
    “All right,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I know now what we must do. I’ll catch up with you later.” With that, she darted forward and kissed him on the cheek. Their eyes locked for a moment.
    “Brand! Corbin! Jak!” came Tylag’s voice, booming over the manor wall. He heard the crunch of boots on gravel. “Come to me. We have a problem.”
    Brand turned to look back at the gates. He swallowed, facing the prospect of entering Drake manor for the first time since he was a small boy at his father’s knee. He turned back to say farewell to Telyn, but discovered that she was gone. He looked up and down the street and thought he caught a glimpse of her slipping around a corner, but he couldn’t be sure.
    “Come on, Brand,” said Jak. He followed Corbin into the courtyard. With a last glance over his shoulder, Brand scrambled down and passed between the rusty gates after them.
    Tylag’s brow was a storm of furrows and he rubbed at his scowling face with his fist. “Myrrdin is not here. He has yet to arrive.”
    The three younger men all exchanged concerned looks. Brand felt more ill at ease because of Tylag’s manner. His actions spoke louder than words. Tylag was usually full of bluster and never daunted by anything.
    “But, who will present the Offering if he is not here?” asked Brand.
    Tylag shot him a grim stare. “None other can perform it properly,” he said. “None have the craft.”
    “The Offering must be made. It is as simple as that,” said Jak, shrugging. “If it comes down to it, I will make the offering for Rabing Isle myself. The Pact can’t be allowed to fail.”
    “Yes,” said Corbin, his speech slow and rational. “The Offering will be made. It is not that, but the etiquette of the ceremony that will be flawed. We must recall that the ceremony is as important to the Faerie as the Offering itself.”
    “We are only the simple folk of the River Haven,” said Jak, spreading his hands. “What can be done?”
    “Perhaps we can find the Clanless One,” said Brand. “Surely, there must be some way of locating him.” The River Folk often called Myrrdin the Clanless One, as he wasn’t a member of any single clan. Some whispered that he wasn’t entirely human. Brand dismissed such theories.
    “Sensibly, he would be on his way here, sailing on the Berrywine perhaps, or crossing the Border Downs,” Corbin said thoughtfully. Brand felt he could see the cogs working in his mind. Corbin wasn’t a fast thinker, but his ideas were often more penetrating. “Where does he usually hail from at this time of year?”
    Tylag, who had been staring at nothing while tugging on his beard, glanced up at his question. “What? Oh, well, it depends. Most years he comes done from the northwest, from the wilds of Snowdonia, where he spends most of his time, it seems.”
    Brand’s eyes blinked twice at the mention of Snowdonia. He could only imagine what those white-peaked mountains were like, what strange creatures might dwell there. “From Rabing Isle,” he said half to himself, “you can see the crags of Snowdon itself on a clear summer’s day.”
    Corbin looked