Read In Camelot’s Shadow: Book One of The Paths to Camelot Series (Prologue Fantasy) for Free Online Page A

forked, one branch bearing west, the other continuing north. At their crux, a man tended a small fire. A great, pale horse was tethered nearby. Green trappings hung from its reins. A bay palfrey stood beside it, nuzzling a patch of fern. Its reins were also hung with green. The studded shield propped against a tree was green as well.
    The man himself was no longer a youth, but neither was he old. He was dark in hair and eye. His beard had been shaved clean off. His shoulders and arms were powerful. Here was a man who had not led an idle life. He could not be taken for anything but a Briton lord. He looked up at Harrik’s approach and raised a friendly hand.
    “God be with you this day, good sir.”
    “God be with you,” Harrik answered. “I’d be glad of a rest. May I share your fire?”
    “You may,” said the man. “If you can tell me my name.”
    Harrik gave a show of consideration. “I think you are my Lord Gawain, captain of the Table Round and nephew to Arthur, the High King.”
    Gawain smiled and got to his feet. “My Lord Harrik,” he bowed deeply. “You are most welcome.”
    “And I am most honored.” Harrik dismounted and tethered his small hairy horse next to Gawain’s animals. “I was stunned to receive word Arthur would send his nephew to me.”
    “He means it as token of his good will.” Gawain opened one of his saddle bags which lay on the ground beside his shield. He pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. “As you will find written here.” The document was sealed in red wax impressed with the dragon rampant that was Arthur’s sign.
    “You may assure His Majesty that I will read this with great attention.” He tucked the document into his shirt.
    “But now you have other news for me?” Gawain folded his legs and settled by the fire again.
    “I do.” Harrik sat beside him. He watched the fire for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words he wanted would not come.
    “I have a son at Camelot,” he said awkwardly. “My only boy. They have taken him well in hand there. I visited him not three months ago. He has been taught to read and write Latin. He can use a sword and ride better than I could at his age. He grows into a strong and reasoned man.” He paused. A stick in the fire snapped in two. “Not a brute. Not a barbarian. Not like the men I knew when I was a boy, a world away from here.”
    Gawain nodded. “I think you will find word of your boy in His Majesty’s letter. I believe my brother Geraint intends to take him as squire.”
    Harrik touched his shirt. “I like this peace of Arthur’s. I like this land. I do not …” He clenched his fist. “I will not see it die to feed Wolfget’s blood lust.”
    “You too are a strong and reasoned man,” said Gawain softly. “I ask you, of your courtesy, tell me what you have seen.”
    Harrik spoke slowly, sketching the events of the council. Gawain listened attentively. When Harrik named each of the men he saw there, Gawain asked pointed questions about where there lands were, how many men they commanded, and who their allies were. Harrik could see the knight sketching a map of the treachery in his mind.
    Then, Harrik told him of the woman and the raven.
    Gawain’s eyebrows lifted. “That, friend, is an unwholesome thing.”
    Harrik gave one short bark of a laugh. “Those are milder words than I would use, my lord.”
    Gawain smiled. “You have not seen the inside of Merlin’s work room. No,” he held up his hand. “Pray do not ask me. I was a youth when I had my glimpse, and more of a fool than I knew.”
    Harrik dismissed the suggestion with a wave. “I have no intention of questioning you. As it is, I know more of magic than I care to.”
    “That shows your wisdom as clearly as anything you have yet done,” said Gawain soberly. “My Lord Harrik, it was my intention to linger in this land for a day or two to see what else I could learn, but what you have told me, both about