through the temple centuries ago had burned fi ercely, imprinting its deadly memory onto the stones.
Behind him the others stood in a knot just outside of the ruins. Catha and Baldred appeared to be almost bored, but Havgan had expected that. They and their families had long ago accepted the worship of Lytir, and they gave no credence to, nor had any real understanding of, the power of the Old Gods.
But Talorcan and Penda did, and for that reason, Havgan knew, they both were tense and wary. They had done their best to argue him out of coming here, to this place where the Old Gods had once reigned supreme through the once-revered
Maeder-Godias, the mother-priestesses. Before the new reli- gion of Lytir had come to Corania, women of the royal family had often become Maeder-Godias, leading the country in the worship of the gods. But when the worship of Lytir had be- come universally accepted, this place had been burned, and the reigning Maeder-Godia, Valeda of Dere, had been taken away to Athelin and burned at the stake.
Before her death Velada had chosen her successor, a prin- cess of Dere named In fl eda. But whom In fl eda had chosen as successor was unknown, for by that time Dere had been ab- sorbed into the Empire and the Heiden, as those followers of the old religion were now called, had been outlawed, as had the Wiccan, those who had special gifts akin to the witches of Kymru. Rumor had it that the line of Maeder-Godias still con- tinued, in secret. Their capture was the dream of every wyrce- jaga in the Empire. But those women who had held the position since In fl eda had been far too canny to be caught—if they even really existed at all.
He brushed his hand against a blackened stone and shiv- ered as an unexpected chill ran through his body. The wind moaned softly as it made its lonely way among the stones. Since the time of Velada’s execution, the ruins of Ealh Galdra had been deserted and no one willingly came here—even in the daytime. No, Havgan had not been at all surprised that Talor- can and Penda had tried to prevent his coming here.
Talorcan’s family came from the marc of Bernice in Dere, the marc that contained Wodnesbeorg, a place most revered by the Heiden. Havgan even had some suspicions that Talor- can was related to the old ruling family of Dere, a family long steeped in magic.
Penda came from the shire of Lindisfarne, in Mierce, and had lived at the foot of Mount Badon, that mountain from where the Wild Hunt itself was said to ride. Though Penda’s father professed the new religion, Havgan was not so sure that his worship of Lytir descended beyond lip service. And Penda was promised to the daughter of the Alder of Minting, a man once accused of being one of the Heiden. The Alder had suc- cessfully defended himself against the allegation, but there were many who still believed it.
Havgan was aware that Sigerric, too, was uneasy, but for different reasons from the rest. Sigerric knew Havgan best of all. They all knew that something very important had hap- pened to Havgan during the Gewinnan Daeg celebration al- most two years ago. They all knew that he had heard the voice of God, telling him to exterminate the witches of Kymru.
But only Sigerric seemed to suspect that Havgan had re- cently set in motion a train of events that would carry him to the notice of those who ruled the Empire, an essential step in his plan. Not that Sigerric knew details—Havgan had been very careful for, though he trusted Sigerric, he did not want to burden his friend. Some details involved cold-blooded murder, something Sigerric would surely frown upon.
He walked back across the ruins toward his men, eyeing the huge, blackened, T-shaped stone that rested in what had once been the central courtyard. Around the stone, fi re-blackened urns rested. Hundreds of runes were incised into the granite rock, their stiff, angular shapes menacing beneath the gray sky.
Havgan nodded toward the rock and turned to Penda, his
Behind him the others stood in a knot just outside of the ruins. Catha and Baldred appeared to be almost bored, but Havgan had expected that. They and their families had long ago accepted the worship of Lytir, and they gave no credence to, nor had any real understanding of, the power of the Old Gods.
But Talorcan and Penda did, and for that reason, Havgan knew, they both were tense and wary. They had done their best to argue him out of coming here, to this place where the Old Gods had once reigned supreme through the once-revered
Maeder-Godias, the mother-priestesses. Before the new reli- gion of Lytir had come to Corania, women of the royal family had often become Maeder-Godias, leading the country in the worship of the gods. But when the worship of Lytir had be- come universally accepted, this place had been burned, and the reigning Maeder-Godia, Valeda of Dere, had been taken away to Athelin and burned at the stake.
Before her death Velada had chosen her successor, a prin- cess of Dere named In fl eda. But whom In fl eda had chosen as successor was unknown, for by that time Dere had been ab- sorbed into the Empire and the Heiden, as those followers of the old religion were now called, had been outlawed, as had the Wiccan, those who had special gifts akin to the witches of Kymru. Rumor had it that the line of Maeder-Godias still con- tinued, in secret. Their capture was the dream of every wyrce- jaga in the Empire. But those women who had held the position since In fl eda had been far too canny to be caught—if they even really existed at all.
He brushed his hand against a blackened stone and shiv- ered as an unexpected chill ran through his body. The wind moaned softly as it made its lonely way among the stones. Since the time of Velada’s execution, the ruins of Ealh Galdra had been deserted and no one willingly came here—even in the daytime. No, Havgan had not been at all surprised that Talor- can and Penda had tried to prevent his coming here.
Talorcan’s family came from the marc of Bernice in Dere, the marc that contained Wodnesbeorg, a place most revered by the Heiden. Havgan even had some suspicions that Talor- can was related to the old ruling family of Dere, a family long steeped in magic.
Penda came from the shire of Lindisfarne, in Mierce, and had lived at the foot of Mount Badon, that mountain from where the Wild Hunt itself was said to ride. Though Penda’s father professed the new religion, Havgan was not so sure that his worship of Lytir descended beyond lip service. And Penda was promised to the daughter of the Alder of Minting, a man once accused of being one of the Heiden. The Alder had suc- cessfully defended himself against the allegation, but there were many who still believed it.
Havgan was aware that Sigerric, too, was uneasy, but for different reasons from the rest. Sigerric knew Havgan best of all. They all knew that something very important had hap- pened to Havgan during the Gewinnan Daeg celebration al- most two years ago. They all knew that he had heard the voice of God, telling him to exterminate the witches of Kymru.
But only Sigerric seemed to suspect that Havgan had re- cently set in motion a train of events that would carry him to the notice of those who ruled the Empire, an essential step in his plan. Not that Sigerric knew details—Havgan had been very careful for, though he trusted Sigerric, he did not want to burden his friend. Some details involved cold-blooded murder, something Sigerric would surely frown upon.
He walked back across the ruins toward his men, eyeing the huge, blackened, T-shaped stone that rested in what had once been the central courtyard. Around the stone, fi re-blackened urns rested. Hundreds of runes were incised into the granite rock, their stiff, angular shapes menacing beneath the gray sky.
Havgan nodded toward the rock and turned to Penda, his
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