The Book of the Broken

Oh, my friends, I don't know what I was thinking. Well, I was thinking there was more than one segment of this book left. And here it is, a close to the new year, and tomorrow we will have the last part of chapter five of Works and Days.

In the coming year, deo volente, we will continue this story in The Book of the Battles, for the struggle has only begun! We will return to Rossford in a fifth novel with more surprises than you have seen yet and, as promised, we will return to the world of the vampires in Blood Saga with Here in This Place. Whatever 2023 promises, at least on this page, it will not be a bust.

Have an excellent New Year. And now, The Book of the Broken.

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Hale

After Myrne had left by one route, Odo and the Abbess Hilda headed north by another in the name of a goodwill journey to the monasteries of Hale. That night, in the little monastery three days ride from Kester, where Hilda was guest, she and her monks sang and, among their acolytes, hood over his head, Wolf listened to them.

 

It is She who will free you from the snare of the fowler

who seeks to destroy you; She will conceal you with

Her pinions and under Her wings

you will find refuge.

You will not fear the terror of the night nor

the arrow that flies by day nor the plague that prowls

in the darkness nor the scourge that lays waste…

 

He was just at the beginning of things. He wanted so to fight, to declare who he was, and yet he knew Myrne had been right. So soon after declaring their love, she was on her way up north in the morning, and he on his way to the woods that night.

 

In the day of distress I will call and surely you will reply.

Among the Gods there is none like You,

O Lady; nor work to compare with Yours.

Lady of mercy and compassion,

slow to anger, O Gracious One,

abounding in love and truth,

turn and take pity me.

 

He touched his side to feel the weight of the sword through his robe. After having declared himself Osric Wulfstan, here he was again, hiding it.

 

They departed the hall in peace, and Wolf followed Odo out into the night. There was only a little ways through the darkness under the moon until they reached the wood.

“Only a pace,” Odo said, the branches snagging on his robe.

“Damn, but I wish I could come with you,” the monk added.

“I wish you could as well,” Wolf said, “You have become a true friend.”

“My brother will miss me, and the truth is I am more use to everyone when I am near him.”

An owl hooted to their left. It hooted again, and then a third time.

Wolf hooted three times, and it hooted back.

With scarcely a sound Pollaninkar emerged from the bush, and beside Polly was Michael Flynn.

“Are you ready, Osric?” she said.

“Osric?” Wolf said.

“That is your name,” Polly said, “that is who you are. You are the true Heir to the Triple Throne. Edmund robbed it from Edred and killed your father. We are riding north to meet the men of Hale, and you had better know who you are when they find you.”

“Osric,” Michael said.

“Osric,” Odo nodded. “King Osric.”

“King,” Polly said, pointedly, “Osric.”

“And Queen Myrne,” Michael added. “Thrones there will be for both of you, but tonight there is only flight.”

Odo quickly kissed all three of them and then, squeezing Osric Wulfstan’s arm, he turned and headed from the woods. Let no one who might see him wonder at all.

He did not dare look back.