Wrought Iron, Book 1 of Merlin's Message

Chapter 1 - Escaping Avalon - 6th Century AD

"Myrddin! Duck!" Peredur shouted from the bow of the ship as he looked back.

Myrddin dropped down without turning and kept his hand on the tiller.

Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk! Half a dozen flint-tipped javelins struck the oaken deck.

"They're in range again, Perry! Time to discourage our pursuers again."

"Aye! And for the ten-thousandth time, stop calling me Perry." Fear and fatigue fought for dominance inside Peredur. It was only the threat of death that kept him awake and alert.

Peredur grabbed his heavy bow and quiver and moved back to the stern. The ship rolled in the gentle sapphire swells, and golden sunlight flashed off the faceted surface. He looked up at the clear, painfully blue sky, then back to the sparkling surface of the inland sea, surrounded by Avalon's verdant shores and rocky white cliffs. The air smelled sweet like springtime, and birds darted this way and that. It was too beautiful a day to die.

In fact, the only thing unpleasant was Peredur's own rank smell. A week of fleeing without a chance to wash had left him slimy, with old sweat thick in his filthy underclothing. His long black hair hung in dank and dirty tangles. And he itched. But he wasn't going to let the enemy get close enough to care.

"Ship looks like a bloody hedgehog. It does," Peredur groused. The weathered wood was thick with a hedge of javelins.

"Most fortunate we are not punctured," Myrddin countered. "Now, hurry before we are."

"I am not liking this, look you. This is their country, not ours." Peredur grumbled as he passed Myrddin.

"True, Sir Peredur. If your comrades had acted more with the love of Christ, instead of like angry bears, we wouldn't be fleeing! Now, give them a scare before they loft another volley!"

"Aye. But still, I will try not to kill any of the Degurs."

Three long boats made of hollowed trees pursued them. Men clad in badly cut animal skins paddled on both sides of each. The Degurs were not tall but broad and muscular. Their mops of reddish hair reminded Peredur of the Celts to the north back home.

The dugouts were faster than the thirty-foot longship Peredur and Myrddin were struggling to handle. Just the two of us left, Peredur thought as he focused on the center of the lead dugout. Three Degurs stood in the center of each boat with their spears and throwing sticks.

Peredur knocked an arrow and drew back, looking with both eyes at his target. He'd aim for their feet. That ought to do it. He could always shoot to kill if the Degurs got too close.

A deep breath, and he loosed six shafts in as many seconds. Two arrows struck into each of the three dugouts, which made the standing Degurs dance. Their paddlemen slowed, dropping back with a great volume of resounding shouts and yells.

"You're a good man, Perry. You did not hit a one."

"My thanks. And I think they got our message. You can stand now and stop peering over the boat edge."

"A little more respect for your elder, Sir Knight!"

Myrddin started to stand, squawked, and fell. A javelin had pinned part of his long robes to the deck. He yanked at the cloth to no avail and muttered under his breath. Peredur came over and drew the offending dart out of the oak and Myrddin's clothing.

"Of course, oh venerable one," Peredur smirked. "And will you be telling me again of the wonders and splendor of this land of Avalon?"

"Oh, leave it! I've heard enough of that for the last two years. So Avalon's not exactly what we expected."