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.That night I needed Vivian's motherly embrace to let me fall asleep.Driven by the strength of mundane human muscles exerted upon paddles, sometimes pushed forward by the wind even though it lacked a sail, our little vessel conveyed us across some narrow arm of the sea, and then for something like twenty miles up a river, which I could tell was the stream we were looking for as soon as it came into sight.At our first encampment on the gently sloping bank of the Avon, we fell asleep snuggled in blankets beside a fire.I remember Vivian huddling against me (I suppose her purpose was partly to keep Hakon, or the druid, at a distance), and after enduring the fluttering passage of another thousand days and nights awoke to a warm morning in spring.And I remember clearly that a notable tree, at a certain point on the riverbank, which when we retired had been a mighty oak, had shrunken when we awoke to only a sapling.Now and again in the course of our journey we caught glimpses of people, onshore or in other boats-unfortunately never that of our lost companions-and animals, whose movements were flickering passages at frightening rates of speed-obviously the time in which these beasts and humans lived and moved was not quite synchronized with our frame of duration, and we could not tell if they were aware of us at all.I, at least, was convinced that I could see plants growing and decaying before my eyes.Boats and wagons and ridden horses, even cows and sheep, shot past like arrows.All surviving members of our party had accepted the fact that time for us was changing strangely, but in fact we seldom talked about this oddity.The druid's magic, such as it was, was apparently telling him to trust me.Meanwhile Merlin's vastly greater power, operating through me, guided us all steadily toward our mysterious goal.As our journey progressed, the attitude of Vortigern's agent toward me changed.From time to time the druid, growing jealous of Merlin's authority, irritated at what he took to be my insolence, disputed with me over what course we should be following, and announced that from now on he would be the one to determine our proper route.But each time he did this he lost his way within an hour.The strange alternation of days and nights and seasons was held in abeyance whenever the druid chose our path, but on those occasions cold mist soon closed in, and unnatural darkness.It was soon plain that none of us, the HornedOne included, knew where we were.Only I, with distant Merlin's guidance, had any idea of which way to go.Three or four times Guthorm took my little mirror from me and tried to use it, but the glass proved useless in his hands, no matter how he muttered and gestured, making spells.After several such attempts the druid gave up and allowed me to take complete charge of navigation.I knew-everything I saw and felt afforded me certainty, amounting to an obsession-that I must go forward.Merlin himself, whom I was now forced to trust absolutely, had told me that my destiny was to confront the man named Vortigern who had died decades before my birth, who called himself a king and had spent half his life trying to become one.This feeling was accompanied by a conviction that, though many dangers threatened me, at least when I should actually stand in Vortigern's presence I need not be afraid.Whenever I made an effort to discover the proper direction, whether in fog or Page 80ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsun or dark of night, guidance was provided.In the most common form of the vision, I glimpsed a doorway ahead of me in the mist.Within the doorway stood a tall man-he was not the Old Man of my earlier vision, but someone entirely different, a regal figure I had never seen before.He was wrapped in a rich cloak and wore what passed in those days for a royal diadem, a copper circlet with a single jewel upon his brow.I knew, in the way one knows about things in dreams, that I was seeing Vortigern, who on the day I was born had already been dead for half a century.And in the vision beyond Vortigern stood my friends, Bran's people who were my only living family, beckoning to me.There were Bran and Jandree, the young woman holding her infant.There was Vivian in the image-even as her living body continued to occupy the boat with me-and Flagon-dry and Maud.This visionary portal in the air was not before me continually; it did not obtrude itself like some mundane tree or rock.But when I sought the Old Man's guidance, it was always there.For days now-for what seemed to us in the troubled flow of Time like many days-it had been obvious that neither the druid nor Hakon really considered themselves my captors any longer, and there were moments, when I saw those men looking at me with the beginnings of fear, that I felt that they had become my prisoners-though they were certainly not going to admit the fact as yet.There was no satisfaction for me in the thought.FIFTEENAfter spending an indeterminate number of days en route-I have never been sure how many-our small party emerged from the insane cycle of flickering suns and moons and seasons, into an epoch where Time again wore a countenance-perhaps I should say a mask-of sober consistency.We had arrived at a place some forty miles from the sea, a pleasant river valley currently greening with spring growth, where theHorned One at last felt at home.No doubt he observed certain details about the land that reassured him that he had come back to his proper year as well.Smiling, he now informed us, in a voice that had regained its confidence, that our journey was almost over.The fact came as no news to me.On a warm cloudy morning we used our paddles to pole our boat ashore through muddy shallows, then abandoned it among a collection of other small craft at a landing place [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.That night I needed Vivian's motherly embrace to let me fall asleep.Driven by the strength of mundane human muscles exerted upon paddles, sometimes pushed forward by the wind even though it lacked a sail, our little vessel conveyed us across some narrow arm of the sea, and then for something like twenty miles up a river, which I could tell was the stream we were looking for as soon as it came into sight.At our first encampment on the gently sloping bank of the Avon, we fell asleep snuggled in blankets beside a fire.I remember Vivian huddling against me (I suppose her purpose was partly to keep Hakon, or the druid, at a distance), and after enduring the fluttering passage of another thousand days and nights awoke to a warm morning in spring.And I remember clearly that a notable tree, at a certain point on the riverbank, which when we retired had been a mighty oak, had shrunken when we awoke to only a sapling.Now and again in the course of our journey we caught glimpses of people, onshore or in other boats-unfortunately never that of our lost companions-and animals, whose movements were flickering passages at frightening rates of speed-obviously the time in which these beasts and humans lived and moved was not quite synchronized with our frame of duration, and we could not tell if they were aware of us at all.I, at least, was convinced that I could see plants growing and decaying before my eyes.Boats and wagons and ridden horses, even cows and sheep, shot past like arrows.All surviving members of our party had accepted the fact that time for us was changing strangely, but in fact we seldom talked about this oddity.The druid's magic, such as it was, was apparently telling him to trust me.Meanwhile Merlin's vastly greater power, operating through me, guided us all steadily toward our mysterious goal.As our journey progressed, the attitude of Vortigern's agent toward me changed.From time to time the druid, growing jealous of Merlin's authority, irritated at what he took to be my insolence, disputed with me over what course we should be following, and announced that from now on he would be the one to determine our proper route.But each time he did this he lost his way within an hour.The strange alternation of days and nights and seasons was held in abeyance whenever the druid chose our path, but on those occasions cold mist soon closed in, and unnatural darkness.It was soon plain that none of us, the HornedOne included, knew where we were.Only I, with distant Merlin's guidance, had any idea of which way to go.Three or four times Guthorm took my little mirror from me and tried to use it, but the glass proved useless in his hands, no matter how he muttered and gestured, making spells.After several such attempts the druid gave up and allowed me to take complete charge of navigation.I knew-everything I saw and felt afforded me certainty, amounting to an obsession-that I must go forward.Merlin himself, whom I was now forced to trust absolutely, had told me that my destiny was to confront the man named Vortigern who had died decades before my birth, who called himself a king and had spent half his life trying to become one.This feeling was accompanied by a conviction that, though many dangers threatened me, at least when I should actually stand in Vortigern's presence I need not be afraid.Whenever I made an effort to discover the proper direction, whether in fog or Page 80ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsun or dark of night, guidance was provided.In the most common form of the vision, I glimpsed a doorway ahead of me in the mist.Within the doorway stood a tall man-he was not the Old Man of my earlier vision, but someone entirely different, a regal figure I had never seen before.He was wrapped in a rich cloak and wore what passed in those days for a royal diadem, a copper circlet with a single jewel upon his brow.I knew, in the way one knows about things in dreams, that I was seeing Vortigern, who on the day I was born had already been dead for half a century.And in the vision beyond Vortigern stood my friends, Bran's people who were my only living family, beckoning to me.There were Bran and Jandree, the young woman holding her infant.There was Vivian in the image-even as her living body continued to occupy the boat with me-and Flagon-dry and Maud.This visionary portal in the air was not before me continually; it did not obtrude itself like some mundane tree or rock.But when I sought the Old Man's guidance, it was always there.For days now-for what seemed to us in the troubled flow of Time like many days-it had been obvious that neither the druid nor Hakon really considered themselves my captors any longer, and there were moments, when I saw those men looking at me with the beginnings of fear, that I felt that they had become my prisoners-though they were certainly not going to admit the fact as yet.There was no satisfaction for me in the thought.FIFTEENAfter spending an indeterminate number of days en route-I have never been sure how many-our small party emerged from the insane cycle of flickering suns and moons and seasons, into an epoch where Time again wore a countenance-perhaps I should say a mask-of sober consistency.We had arrived at a place some forty miles from the sea, a pleasant river valley currently greening with spring growth, where theHorned One at last felt at home.No doubt he observed certain details about the land that reassured him that he had come back to his proper year as well.Smiling, he now informed us, in a voice that had regained its confidence, that our journey was almost over.The fact came as no news to me.On a warm cloudy morning we used our paddles to pole our boat ashore through muddy shallows, then abandoned it among a collection of other small craft at a landing place [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]