Thyme
THIS THE 2nd PART OF MY HERBIDACIOUS SAGA, please read Rosemary first. ;p
fourteen
Poor moon. Sick moon. From the old tree on the heath it appeared to be dying of a broken heart. Peaking down at the three of them through parted dirty fingers of cloud. What the party was going to do was so abhorrent of nature, but the woman didn't seem care. She drew in the dirt by the roots with a dirty finger. She wrote a name and blew it out, a dust storm swirling away down the hill.
She looked up at the men with her, with cold calculated calmness. Her face didn't change even as the rain came down, the moon's last ditch attempt to persuade her children to stop. One of the men broke eye contact to look up at the sky, mocking the sky as droplets ran down his neck.
"Best get on with it." She stretched, standing up. Any moment she felt she would snap. It had been five years since that night, but she still felt the effects. Her body felt ripped and tightened to breaking point. As if she carried a parasite...
They followed her down the hill, her blond hair sleek and shining in the moonlight and rain. They walked Past her caravan too the river bank, the silver water uninviting.
The third man, Mathew, slight and nervous held out the beaker. It was a bright unnatural colour, cracked with years of use. He held it out to her, as she offered the knife with a mocking smile, knowing he was too scared to be the first.
She held up her wrist, admiring the cuts and bruises in a detached state of mind. She let the blood trickle down in to the cup. Wiping the knife, she passed it to the last man, twitching with pent up energy and nerves, he'd waited for this, he'd been promised this.
The blood made a mess of the dirt. They chanted in the cold and rain, the water seemed to glow golden and the water suddenly churned, like something was trying to get out of its watery prison. She stood up with a bitter smile. Washing one hand in the water and pointed to the boat at the shore line.
She watched as her two companions got onto the boat. They were swallowed into the darkness. She could barely make out the shape of Mathew reach into the water. Her expression didn't change as a disembodied hand grabbed him from the depths.
"Will, you promised!" his scream tore the night; she tore her eyes away to watch a bird, disturbed by the cry, fly away.
"Call yourself the Pendragon." Mathew's last words before he was claimed by the lake made her raise an eyebrow, how would Will take that?
His body swallowed by the water, Will came back to the bank, refusing to look at her smirking face. She watched him stomp past her, his shoulders hunched against the rain.
"You didn't get it then."
He just kept walking.
Morgana shivered against the pillows. Her warm room at home seemed so far away from the cold embrace of the lake. She'd seem it, felt it. All Gwen's sympathy and tea couldn't wipe that away.
"Why are we going to Ealdor?"
Morgana considered this, good question.
"Not just us, Merlin and Arthur too. Things need sorting out. There's something we all need to find. I don't…"
"Perhaps a doctor…"
Morgana sat up angrily "I don't need any more doctors, Gwen please."
Gwen nodded, resigned to her fate, "Better pack my bag then."
She didn't get a wink of sleep though. Gwen could only watch as Morgana fell into fitful sleep. Her skin crawling with the feeling of cold clammy hands
Sorry it's been so long. I hope the spelling is better and I won't get another slap on the wrists ;p.
Anyway, I know this chapter isn't the best but I promise it'll get better.
Comments ??
GL42