Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2016 J.M.Hofer

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978 1505 580 082

  Rise of the Pendragon

  J.M. Hofer

  Chapter One - Return to Mynyth Aur

  Chapter Two - Nimue

  Chapter Three - Ascent to Caer Sidi

  Chapter Four - One Slaver for Another

  Chapter Five - Hengist

  Chapter Six - Beneath the Blackthorne

  Chapter Seven - The Road Home

  Chapter Eight - Dumnonia

  Chapter Nine - Cursed

  Chapter Ten - The Sons of Constantine

  Chapter Eleven - Hunted

  Chapter Twelve - The Lady of the Lake

  Chapter Thirteen - The Wandering Bard

  Chapter Fourteen – Redemption

  Chapter Fifteen - Arhianna’s Return

  Chapter Sixteen - Arawn’s Demand

  Chapter Seventeen - The White Dragon

  Chapter Eighteen - Vanaheim

  Chapter Nineteen - Valhalla

  Chapter Twenty - The Wedding of Igerna and Gorlois

  Chapter Twenty-One - Myrthin

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Called to Serve

  Chapter Twenty-Three - An Unexpected Encounter

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Justice and Mercy

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Homebound

  Chapter Twenty-Six - From Beech to Yew

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Guardian of the Grove

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Paradise Lost

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Draco’s Comet

  Chapter Thirty - The Stones of Eire

  Chapter Thirty-One - Fallen

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Myrthin’s Barter

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Octa’s Revolt

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Knockma

  Chapter Thirty-Five - The Forging of Gareth

  Chapter Thirty-Six - The Willow’s Gift

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - Regret

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Awakening

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Return to Caer Lundein

  Chapter Forty - The Victory Games

  Chapter Forty-One - The Things We Cannot Have

  Chapter Forty-Two - The Double Path

  Chapter Forty-Three - Jørren

  Chapter Forty-Four - Too High a Price

  Chapter Forty-Five - King Takes Queen

  Chapter Forty-Six - This Mortal Coil

  Epilogue

  Character & Location Reference

  AELHAEARN (ill HAY arn) - “iron brow.” Outcast from the Oaks and cursed by Arawn for betraying his clan

  AMLAWTH (AM-lawth) - father of Igerna, and Prince of Cornwall. Spelled in Welsh as Amlawdd, I have taken the liberty of spelling it Amlawth for the ease of the English reader, with “th” in place of “dd.”

  ARAWN (AIR-oun) - Lord of the Otherworld/Underworld, Annwn (AH-noon)

  ARHIANNA (arr-ee-AH-nah) - daughter of Bran and Lucia, twin sister to Gareth, wife of Jørren, closest friend to Igerna, Firebrand and steward of the Brisingamen

  ARMORICA (ar-MOR-i-kah) - “place by the sea” - ancient name for Brittany, known also as Gaul at the time. Armorica was the part of Gaul that lay between the Seine and Loire rivers, as well as what is now known as the Brittany peninsula.

  BRAN - “raven.” Chieftain of the Oaks, husband to Lucia, father to Arhianna and Gareth

  BRISINGAMEN (BREE-sing-AH-men) – the most precious possession of the goddess Freya, a stunning necklace of amber and gold, smithed by Black Dwarves.

  BROKKR (BROK-er) – “one who works with metal,” blacksmith

  BUDDUG (BOO-dig) - Welsh form of Boudicca, fierce queen of the Icendi tribe, who led an uprising against the occupying Roman forces. Maur’s wife.

  CAER SIDI (KAIR SIH-dee) - Caer Sidi (or Caer Siddi) is the fortress of the goddess Arianrhod located within the constellation Corona Borealis. It is mentioned in the Book of Taliesin

  CAER EBRAUC (KAIR ee-browk) – ancient name for York

  CAMULOS (KAH-mulos) - Gaulish god associated with the Roman god, Mars. Lucia’s former husband, presumed dead

  CEFFYL DŴR (KEFF-il-door) - “water horse.” Tegid Voel’s ship

  CERRIDWEN (KER-id-wen) - consort to Arawn, Goddess of the Underworld, Keeper of the Sacred Cauldron, Initiator of Gwion/Taliesin

  CREIRWY (CREE-wee) - “token or jewel.” Daughter of Cerridwen and Tegid Voel

  CONSTANTINE (KON-stan-teen) – last Roman leader of Britannia (Welsh: Custennin)

  CYNWAL (KUHN-wal) - one of Igerna’s brothers

  DAOINE SÍDHE (DEE-neh SHEE) – the divine folk who remained in Ireland after the Tuatha Dé Danann (ancient gods of Ireland) were defeated by the Gaels. They are said to live in the hollow hills (sídhe means mounds or hills), where Finbheara rules as king with his wife, Oonagh.

  DUMNONIA – Ancient name for modern-day Cornwall, in southwest Britain

  ELAYN (ee-LAYN) – name referring to the maiden aspect of the Great Mother, High Priestess of the Isle

  ELFFIN (ELL-fin) - son of Gwythno Garanhir, foster-father to Taliesin, Lord of Maes Gwythno or the Cantre'r Gwaelod (Lowland Hundred) in what is now Cardigan Bay in Wales.

  EIRE (ehr, or –EHR-eh) - Gaelic name for Ireland

  EIRWEN (AYR-wen) - “snow white.” Mother of Neirin

  EMRYS (EM-riss) - also known as Ambrosius Aurelianus, son of Constantine

  FINBHEARA (FIN-varra) – King of the Daoine Sídhe of Knockma, county Connaught.

  FREYA (FRAY-uh) – “lady.” Saxon/Norse goddess of fire and love, and chooser of the slain, twin-sister to Freyr, god of prosperity and fertility

  FREYR (FRERE) – “lord.” Saxon/Norse god of the Vanir ruling prosperity and fertility, twin-brother of Freya

  GARETH (GAH-reth) – “spear-master.” Son of Bran and Lucia, twin brother to Arhianna

  GERDA (GER-dah) - nature-loving, modest wife of Freyr

  GORLOIS (GOR-loy) - (Welsh: Gwrlais) Duke of Cornwall, Igerna’s husband and ally of Uthyr

  HENGIST (HENG-ist) - Jutish warlord, invited by Vortigern to settle in Britain in return for helping him to defeat the clans of Northern Britain. Father of Rowena, given in marriage to Vortigern

  IGERNA (ih-GERN-ah) - “pure, chaste.” Daughter of Amlawth, wife of Gorlois, and closest friend to Arhianna

  IRWYN (IR-winn) - “lover of the sea.” Saxon ship-builder brought to Maes Gwythno by Garanhir, good friend and ally of Bran and Elffin

  ISCA DUMNONIORUM– Roman name for the city now known as Exeter in the English county of Devon, in Cornwall

  ISLWYN (IH-sil-winn) – “below the grove.” Druid advisor to Bran of the Oaks and guardian of the Sacred Grove of the Crossroads

  JØRREN (YOR-en) - Jute chieftain and husband to Arhianna

  KENT - Saxon settlement on the eastern coast of Britain

  CAER LUNDEIN - London

  LUCIA (loo-CHEE-ah) - “from the light, born in the first hours.” Granddaughter to High Priestess Rowan of the Isle, wife of Bran, mother to Arhianna and Gareth

  MAUR (MAWR) - “large.” Bran’s closest friend

  MAES GWYTHNO (mays GWITH-no) – ancient name for the kingdom that now lies underwater off the Ceredigion coast in Cardigan Bay, Wales, often referred to as the “Welsh Atlantis”

  MYRTHIN (MEHR-thin) - (English: Merlin) Arch-druid and advisor to Emrys and Uthyr. Again, the Welsh spelling is Myrddin, with “dd” in place of “th,” but I have taken the liberty of spelling it Myrthin for the ease of the English reader.

  NEIRIN (NIGH-rin) - “all gold, precious.” Son of the late chieftain Belanus, fine tracker and respected member of Bran’s council

  NIDH
OGGR (NID-hogger) – “malice striker.” Dragon who lives beneath the Yggdrasil, the Norse World Tree of Creation

  OCTA (OK-tah) - son of Hengist and enemy of Emrys and Uthyr

  OONAGH (OO-nah) – Queen of the Daoine Sídhe, wife of Finbheara

  PASGEN (PAS-gen) - son of Vortigern

  SEIDHR (SAY-der) – Norse trance or shamanic magic to divine the future and influence destiny

  SEREN (SEH-ren) - “star.” Bran’s sister and Firebrand, mentor to Arhianna, former steward of the Brisingamen

  SESSRUMNIR (sess-ROOM-neer) - Freya's hall located in Fólkvangr, a meadow or field where she takes her chosen half of those who fall nobly in battle

  SKIDBLADNIR – (skith-BLAHTH-neer) - Old Norse: Skíðblaðnir “assembled from thin pieces of wood.” The best of ships in Norse mythology, owned by the god Freyr, who can fold it up like a cloth small enough to fit into a pocket when not needed

  TEGID VOEL (TEH-gid VOLE) - giant and spirit of Lake Tegid, known today as Lake Bala, father of Creirwy and Morvran by Cerridwen

  TUATHA DE’ DANANN (TOO-ah day dah-nan) – ancient gods of Ireland

  ULA (OO-la) – “gem of the sea.” Selkie and foster mother to Taliesin

  UTHYR (OO-ther) – “terrible.” The Pendragon of Brython

  VALHALLA (val-HA-lah) - Old Norse: Valhöll, "hall of the slain." Woden’s hall in Asgard. Half of those who die bravely in battle go to the goddess Freyja's field, Fólkvangr in Vanaheim, and the other half go to Valhalla

  VANAHEIM (VA-na-hyme) - Old Norse for "home of the Vanir." One of the Nine Worlds in Norse mythology, home to the Vanir, a group of gods associated with fertility, wisdom, and the ability to see the future (see SEIDHR)

  VIROCONIUM – Viroconium or Uriconium, formally Viroconium Cornoviorum, was a Roman town, a part of which is now modern-day Wroxeter, a small village in Shropshire County, Britain

  VORTIGERN (VOR-ti-gayrn) – (Welsh: Gwythern) 5th century warlord in Britain.

  WODEN (WOH-den) - Saxon/ Norse god of creation, death and poetry. The Allfather.

  YGGDRASIL (YIG-drah-sil) - World Tree of Creation in Saxon/Norse mythology

  Celtic Tree Symbolism

  English/Ogham

  Apple/Quert - youth, beauty, fertility, romantic love

  Ash/Nuin - influence, integration, spiritual questing. The “world tree” in many cultures; symbol for the connection between the underworld, the mortal world, and the spiritual world.

  Birch/Beith - birth, renewal, new beginnings, inception

  Blackthorne/Straif - strife, karma, reconciliation of life/death, dark/light, deep initiation

  Fir/Ailm - abundance, prosperity, fortune, vitality

  Hawthorne/Huathe - clarity, discrimination, purification, patience, wisdom in choices

  Holly/Tinne - sacrifice, endurance, dignity, vigilance, acceptance

  Oak/Duir - stability, strength, faith, wisdom, nobility, loyalty, heritage, honor, imparted knowledge

  Rowan/Luis - attraction, protection, anticipation, quickening, awakening

  Willow/Saille - female power and rites of passage, inspiration, emotion, love, healing, matters of the heart

  Yew/Idho - perseverance, immortality, regeneration, rebirth, Guardian of the Underworld, guides souls from one world to the next.

  PREFACE

  Though Rise of the Pendragon is based in a specific time period and location in the past, it is a work of historical fantasy. It is not my intention to offer you an historically accurate work based on what we have now come to know (or believe we know) about the history of Britain, but rather, one that harkens back to Britain’s ancient myths, ballads and folklore.

  My inspiration for many of the characters and events in Rise of the Pendragon, including Vortigern, Hengist and Horsa, Uthyr and Emrys, the origins of Stonehenge, and the ever-inspiring character of Myrthin, were based largely upon Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain). Monmouth was a Welsh cleric who lived circa 1100. He is considered a giant in the development of British historiography as an essential source for the legend of King Arthur. Though we have now come to regard his work as historically unreliable, it was a triumph in its time—a “bestseller” in its day.

  What I find both fascinating and inspiring is that the stories contained in Monmouth’s history were regarded by many as actual fact for many generations—magical incidents and all. It is in this spirit that I offer Rise of the Pendragon, for what is life, dear reader, without a bit of magic?

  J.M. Hofer

  December 1, 2016

  CHAPTER ONE

  Return to Mynyth Aur

  Bran’s mind churned like a windmill as he watched the moon creep across the sky. For the first time in his life, victory tasted like sour ashes. He knew the true victor in the fight for his people’s freedom that day had not been him—it had been Hraban—and Hraban had known it as well. He had even declared it before he died, with a proud and bloody smile Bran would never forget. “I have won.”

  And he had. Bran reached up and touched the bloody bandages around the gruesome gash Hraban’s sword had carved into him. If not for Arawn, I’d be dead, and my people would all be slaves. In truth, I failed. I stole my victory. It was this fact that tormented him. An excruciating pang suddenly gripped his heart, as if to remind him he had not stolen it completely—he had indeed paid something for it, the full price of which he did not yet know.

  Stolen or not, it was no small thing to come back from the dead. As terrible as he felt about it now, he had not hesitated to exploit the shock of his resurrection in the moment. He had raised his sword, still dripping with Hraban’s blood, and let forth a triumphant battle cry, staring into the eyes of his enemies. It had the effect he had wanted. Every Jute dropped to his knees in fear and awe, giving him the opportunity to gather his people. He had led them out of the village to the ships that had braved the wailing North Sea to rescue them. Now, those ships sat poised and provisioned in the half-light of the coming dawn, ready to take them all home.

  He sat down on a log and put his weary head in his hands. I’m a bloody half-Jute. My father was Hraban the Terrible, a warlord who raped my mother, raided my village and killed me. Gods, Mother. Why didn’t you tell me? He shivered. The blood in my veins feels like poison. And, now, my only daughter wants to stay here? She can’t truly mean to. Not after all we’ve been through. How can she do this to us?

  He sat there until the sun peeked over the horizon. He let out a sigh of relief and headed back to the Jute village with long, aggressive strides, eager to speak with his daughter. I must change her mind. He prayed the night had given her enough time to reconsider her decision.

  He arrived to find everyone already busy with morning chores. Men were chopping wood and hauling water while women crouched by cookfires or swept out their squat houses. Children ran about, squealing as all children do. He found the scene both reassuring and disturbing. Death stops nothing—no matter how beloved or powerful the departed may be. Life goes on just as it did before. Sometimes within hours.

  Those who happened to cross his path darted out of his way, like fish from a shark. He heard their urgent voices rise up behind him, no doubt telling the others the son of Hraban had returned. He strode by them without concern, his eyes fixed on the eaves of the longhouse. He reached its doors and pushed them open.

  Word of his arrival rushed through the village like a flash flood. Jutes flocked behind him into the longhouse, craning their necks and speaking in urgent whispers. The vast hall was soon full, blocking his way out.

  Bran felt the heat of a hundred eyes on his skin as he glanced around, but he did not see his daughter. The mob from outside pressed in tighter and tighter, gathering around him. Now, what? He gripped the hilt of Caledgwyn, twisting it anxiously. He maneuvered his back against a wood pillar, so he could not be struck from behind. Every beat of his heart felt as if he were being stabbed. Along with the pain came a wave of fear. Gods, Arawn, is this what I’m
meant to suffer the rest of my days?

  A burly man stepped forward and gestured around at the staring faces in the hall. “You want to know what they say?”

  Bran raised his brows, surprised the man understood his language. “Yes.”

  “They think you come to be chieftain. Woden take Hraban to Valhalla. Woden let you live. You, Woden choose. You, chieftain.”

  Bran scanned the faces pressing in around him. Only a few dared to meet his eyes. It made him curious about the man speaking to him, who seemed to be the only one in the longhouse who did not fear him. “No. I haven’t come to be chieftain. Who are you?”

  “Brokkr. I am blacksmith.” He swung an imaginary hammer to demonstrate his work. “Your son work for me. Good work. Good boy.”

  Gareth had said he had been well treated among the Jutes, and indeed, looked as if he had been well fed. Though Bran recoiled at the thought of thanking his son’s enslaver, he knew Gareth could have suffered a fate far worse. “My son said you were good to him. Thank you.”

  Brokkr nodded. “Good son. And good daughter. Your daughter, Freya choose.”

  “Who is Freya?” He supposed Freya might be someone in the village he could speak with. Maybe Arhianna’s with her.

  Brokkr smiled. “She is goddess of love and death.”

  Bran raised an eyebrow. “What else is there?”

  Brokkr chuckled. “Only work.”

  Bran still did not see Arhianna in the crowd. Gods, maybe she’s down on the beach—maybe she decided to come home, after all, and I’m standing here like a fool. “Yes. My daughter. I want to see my daughter. Where is she?”

  Brokkr nodded. “Come.” He yelled something at the crowd, forcing them to part. He cleared a path to the longhouse doors. They were on their way out when Bran heard his daughter’s voice.

  “Father?”

  He spied her walking toward the longhouse with a man by her side. What was his name, again? Ah, yes. Jørren.

  She ran and embraced him, glancing around at the people in the hall. “Father, I know why you’ve come.” She did not blink. “I’m going to stay. This is where I want to be.” She put a hand on Jørren’s arm and stepped back to stand by his side.