Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [123]
“You are strong,” the king said, finally. “Your mother would be very proud of you.”
“Who is my mother, sir? Please, you must tell me!” The need to know had grown within her during the last weeks as her powers became more apparent. Her tension caused her voice to shake slightly.
“Yes, it is time you knew,” said the king in a low, weak voice. “It was only for your own protection that we kept it a secret for so long.”
Robyn waited, surprised, as the king caught his breath.
Tristan watched the two. He was painfully aware that his father had not so much as greeted him.
“Your mother was Erianna Moonsinger, Great Druid of all the Isles of Moonshae. You were her only child.”
Robyn sat upon the edge of the bed, feeling strangely calm. The news no longer had the power to surprise her.
“What happened to her?” she asked.
“You were a year old when she brought you here. Your mother and I had fought together against the northmen. She trusted me. She told me that she had to travel to Myrloch Vale, to one of the Moonwells.
Some sort of perversion grew there, and she was going to cleanse it.
“She felt that it would be very dangerous, and she wanted you cared for in case she did not return. I… I never saw her again.”
“And my father?”
“I am sorry, but I do not know who your father was. Erianna never said anything about him.”
“Why did I need to be protected – my identity a secret?”
“Your mother warned me that potent evil gathered strength in the land. It could be a generation or more before it was released, but if her mission failed, such a catastrophe would become an inevitability. The druids are the most potent force we have, to cope with that evil. Your mother sensed great power within you, even as a baby, and she feared for you, should this evil presence become aware of your existence.
“She felt that on reaching adulthood, you would take on the mantle of the druids and would play an important role in the struggle. She hoped, as did I, that you would be much older when this became necessary.
I see that you have matured much, in the short months of this summer – you are as ready as I could have hoped. Now we need your help in the battle against the accursed enemies of our people!”
The king collapsed backward, exhausted from telling the tale.
“I have seen the might of that enemy, sir, and have already fought it,” replied Robyn, clasping the king’s hand. “I will fight it as long as I live!”
“I admire your spirit, my chi- my lady. The Ffolk have always resisted this evil, but we have never completely defeated it. Even Cymrych Hugh failed, in his final battle, to -”
“Father!” Tristan interrupted, stepping forward.
“We… I found the Sword of Cymrych Hugh! I brought it to Corwell, and carry it now!”
The king’s eye clouded. “Don’t joke about such a thing.” But his outburst was half-hearted, and he looked at Robyn for confirmation. “Of course, he is not joking.”
“He’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head slowly.
“You underestimate him, I think.”
“Perhaps.” The king was not convinced. “In any event, he is fortunate to have a companion like you at his side.”
Tristan bit his tongue and turned away, stung.
“We were fortunate to have a man like him as our leader during the last weeks!”
The king forced a smile from his cracked lips but did not acknowledge her comment. Robyn rose to take her leave. “Here,” said the king, reaching to the side. “You are to have these now. They were your mother’s.”
King Kendrick picked up a long staff of white oak and handed it to Robyn. “This is the Staff of the White Well. Your mother made it.” She took a deep breath and touched the smooth wood. She could almost imagine her mother’s hands – strong, but gentle – caressing the shaft.
“And this.” The king handed her a heavy leather tome, clasped with a brass lock. It was the largest book Robyn had ever seen. A tiny silver key stood in the lock.
Robyn, fearing she was going to cry, clenched her teeth. All these years she