Children of the Lake

Chapter Sixteen

Snow swept through Brocéliande, covering the trees in a sparkling white. Men and spirits stayed away from the frozen forest, giving it a facade of serenity. Only Myrddin could hear the cries of the past and spy the occasional glimmer of a creature who was unafraid of the cold.

"Bad footwork."

Myrddin stumbled, falling against the rough trunk of a tree. Snow fell from the branches, obscuring his vision as someone lunged at him. A blade flashed as it swung toward him, stopping right before it could plunge into his throat. Uther held the sword steady, able to send him back to hell with one swift movement. Power burned inside Myrddin, demanding to unleash an inferno on the young man who dared to attack him.

Instead of giving into the wildfire inside, he chuckled. "So I'm dead, then?"

Uther moved the sword away and a smile lit up the serious young man's face. "A corpse abandoned in the woods. Wouldn't Lady Nimue be sad?"

Myrddin didn't need otherworldly sight to perceive his meaning. Though the betrothal hadn't been formalized, word had spread about the proposed union. The refugees seemed delighted about the idea. Nimue had done much for them and would be their first choice for a queen. At this point, the marriage had to happen. If Uther had been anyone else, Myrddin might have thought he was warning him away. But he had a teasing tone, as if he was a friend who wanted Myrddin to pursue her.

Snow crunched beneath Myrddin's feet as he straightened himself. He refused to react to Uther's insinuation, even though he appreciated that the prince didn't shy away from the truth. "Can you show me what I did wrong?"

Uther raised an eyebrow. "Your mystical insight doesn't tell you?"

A few months ago, Myrddin's older self probably would have been heckling him from the side. Other images would have given him advice. He might have even seen how he should have fought. But now all he heard was the wind rustling the trees and his own shaky breaths.

He snorted. "I've been crushing it down as much as possible for Arglwyddes y Llyn." He emphasized her title, hoping that would keep Uther from implying that there was any sort of special bond between Nimue and Myrddin. "She wants to make sure the Imbolc ritual works before—"

Uther jabbed his blade forward and Myrddin lifted his sword in a flimsy defense. A rough blow almost knocked him off his feet. Once more, his power stormed inside, desperate to counterattack. It was harder to hold the magic back than keep his grip on the sword, but the weapon still fell from his hands when Uther attacked again.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" Uther asked.

Myrddin held up his hands in mock surrender. "Try to keep up with a man who has been an expert in sword fighting since the day he was born?"

Uther gave a rueful smile. "I had the benefit of good teachers. It takes years of practice. All you need is to work at it. Let me show you what you should have done..."

The prince demonstrated the swift movement that Myrddin would have been able to do if he wasn't the incarnation of clumsiness. Then, as if realizing Myrddin would never figure it out, he slowed down and carefully went through each step. It had gone that way as Uther trained him over the past few weeks. Myrddin thought he might have a better chance if he wasn't constantly trying to prevent his magic from lashing out at the young man. But Uther insisted he should get as much training as possible before the invasion of Prydein. Only Nimue understood how difficult it was for him to keep his fiery power contained when cornered. Instead of gaining skills, he just grew exhausted.

Myrddin's hand twitched a bit when Uther finished as the magic rattled his bones. "I understand what you're trying to teach, but I fear you're wasting your time. Spears are hard enough for me. I'm trying to control this hellish power, and it is a tiny bit distracting."