The Lost Years Read Online Free PDF

brown aphid scurried across the collar of fringed leaves at the top of the stalk. Its aroma seemed fresh, but not sweet. Somehow I knew that its hidden center must be the color of aged yellow cheese.
    Ready at last, I began willing the flower to open. Show yourself, I commanded. Open your petals.
    I waited for a long moment. Nothing happened.
    Again I focused on the flower. Open. Open your petals.
    Still nothing happened.
    I started to stand. Then, very slowly, the collar of leaves began to flutter as if touched by the barest of breezes. A moment later one of the lavender petals stirred, unfurling an edge ever so slightly, before gradually beginning to open. Another petal followed, and another, and another, until the whole flower greeted the oncoming dawn with petals outstretched. And from its center sprouted six soft sprigs, more like feathers than petals. Their color? Like aged yellow cheese.
    A brutal kick struck me in the back. Coarse laughter filled the air, crushing the moment as swiftly as a heavy foot crushed the flower.

3: R IDING THE S TORM
    With a groan, I pushed myself to my feet. “Dinatius, you Pig.”
    The older boy, square-shouldered with bushy brown hair, smirked at me. “You’re the one with pointed ears like a pig. Or like a demon! Anyway, better a pig than a bastard.”
    My cheeks grew hot, but I held my temper. I looked into his eyes—gray as a goose’s back. This required me to tilt my head back, since he was so much taller. Indeed, Dinatius’ shoulders could already lift loads that made many grown men wobble. In addition to stoking the smith’s fire—hot, heavy work on its own—he cut and carried the firewood, worked the bellows, and hauled iron ore by the hundredweight. For this the smith gave him a meal or two a day, a sack of straw to sleep on, and many a blow about the head.
    “I am no bastard.”
    Dinatius slowly rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Where then is your father hiding? Maybe he’s a pig! Or maybe he’s one of those rats who lives with you and your mother.”
    “We don’t have any rats in our home.”
    “Home! You call that a home? It’s just a filthy hole where your mother can hide and do her sorcery.”
    My fists clenched. The taunts about me cut deep enough, but it was his crass mention of her that made my blood boil. Still, I knew that Dinatius wanted me to fight him. I also knew what the outcome would be. Better to hold my temper, if I could. It would be very hard to keep my arms still. But my tongue? Even harder.
    “He who is made of air should not accuse the wind.”
    “What do you mean by that, bastard whelp?”
    I had no idea where the words came from that I spoke next. “I mean that you should not call somebody else bastard, since your father was just a Saxon mercenary who rode through this village one night and left nothing but you and an empty flask in his wake.”
    Dinatius’ mouth opened and then closed without a word. I realized that I had spoken words he had always feared, but never admitted, were true. Words that struck more violently than clubs.
    His face reddened. “Not so! My father was a Roman, and a soldier! Everyone knows that.” He glared at me. “I’ll show you who’s the bastard.”
    I stepped backward.
    Dinatius advanced on me. “You are nothing, bastard. Nothing! You have no father. No home. No name! Where did you steal the name Emrys, bastard? You are nothing! And you’ll never be more!”
    I winced at his words, even as I saw the rage swell in his eyes. I glanced about for some way to escape. I couldn’t possibly outrun him. Not without a head start. But there were no birds flying overhead today. A thought hit me. No birds flying overhead.
    Just as I had done yesterday, I pointed to the sky and cried out, “Look! Treasure from the sky!”
    Dinatius, who had just leaned forward to lunge at me, did not look skyward this time. Instead, he hunched as if to protect his head from a blow. That was all that I could hope for. I turned and