The Henge: Action & Adventure Fantasy (Tuatha Legends Series Book 4): Tuatha Legends Series, #4

By P.M. Gilbert

Fighting battles on two different fronts is difficult at the best of times, even more so when one of those battles is against your own emotions.

 

Arlene, Cerys, George, and Finn were unexpectedly thrown into a parallel world of action and adventure. They are victims of their birth, born with a destiny they didn't ask for.

 

They must not only contend with the Fomórie, but also their own emotions. As they struggle to understand their role in the prophecy and develop their abilities, they are also faced with the possibility of betrayal, jealousy and the unknown.

 

Action-packed and brimming with Celtic mythology and Arthurian legend, The Henge is the fourth book in P.M. Gilbert's exciting Tuatha Legends series. In this instalment, Finn finds himself captured by the evil Lord Balor and the Fomórie. His friends George, Cerys, and Arlene launch a daring rescue mission to save him, leading to an intense confrontation at Stonehenge.

 

Shocking revelations about family history and heritage threaten to determine their fates. With new enemies emerging and dangerous magical forces awakening, the four friends face greater challenges than ever before.

 

Will they be able to fulfil their destiny and prevent the descent of their world into darkness, or will they be consumed by the very struggles they sought to overcome?

 

READERS: Please note. These books are set in Ireland, England, Scotland and Wales. As a result they are written in UK English - spellings of some common words will vary from US spellings - They are not typographical errors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vida Moda Ltd
• Release date: Jun 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9781739302214

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Thanks for picking up the 4th book in my Tuatha Legends Series. I hope you enjoy it!

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1

Capture

Finn kicked out furiously, but he could not break the bonds of the arms that held him and dragged him into a tunnel. He struggled mightily. Swearing came from behind him. Keep still, you little tyke.

He tried to bite the hand that spanned his face, but he couldn't open his mouth to do so. There was more cursing behind him, and then he felt a rag placed over his face, wet with a freezing liquid.

He didn't like the feeling of the cold liquid against his face, but he had no choice but to breathe in. He felt the effect immediately. It made him feel faint and his last thought as blackness overtook him was, What is going to happen to me next?

In the tunnel, Grinden clambered over Finn to get to his face. He checked that he was unconscious and shouted to his colleague, Grab him by the shoulders and pull him along.

He's getting stuck.

I have a better idea. I'll wrap a rope around him, and we can haul him. He hooked a rope under Finn's arms, tightening it behind his back, doubling it, and then feeding the other end farther down the tunnel to his colleague. He instructed him to haul the boy in, hand over hand. 

Between them, they pulled on the rope, moving Finn's comatose body down the tunnel. Grinden pushed Finn's feet to help get him going, but before anything else could happen, something slammed into him from behind.

His comrades couldn't see what was happening, but they heard sounds of a struggle in front of them. They pulled faster on the rope holding Finn and made good progress back down the passageway, which curved downwards. It narrowed significantly, and they had to crawl on hands and knees as they went, dragging Finn's unconscious body as they did so.

A voice shouted, Finn, where are you? Are you okay?

As a precaution, the man put his hand over Finn's mouth just in case he came to enough to shout. But there was no change, no danger of that. The boy was out cold.

They soon emerged from the tunnel which dropped into another room at waist level, and they manoeuvred the boy's body onto the floor. The two men were out of breath from their exertions. One of them said, What happened to Grinden?

The other looked concerned. It sounded like he ended up in a fight with them. I think they captured him.

The first man remained calm. We'll stick to the plan and move the boy to the Tavern as we were told. Grinden is on his own. If he can get free, he will have to make his own way back to us.

What about the other two?

They're due to meet us at the rendezvous point in a few hours. They will bring in the professor, and then we will all leave for the Tavern together. Let's get going then. You take the boy.

The burly second man lifted Finn in the air and threw him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing more than a small sack of potatoes. He bounced him on his shoulder to position him comfortably, and together they walked in single file down another corridor that they could stand up in this time.

The first man led the way with a flaming torch. They followed a labyrinth of passages and arrived at the rendezvous point; another dimly lit, grubby little room which at some point must've served as an old storage area. Abandoned bales of a coarse cloth and rough planks of wood littered the space.

The men used several bales of cloth to fashion mattresses for themselves. They left Finn laid out on the floor without the comfort of anything underneath him.

How long do we have to wait? How do we know what time it is?

The second man replied, We weren't delayed, so I assume the others can stick to the original plan. We'll follow our orders, and if the others don't show up, then we will make our way to the Tavern.

The man wore nondescript tunic and trousers and had removed a cloth sack he'd slung over his shoulder. He opened it and retrieved a sand clock. He put it in front of them on a bale of cloth and turned it over.

When the sands run out, we move the boy to the Tavern regardless of whether anyone else has joined us.

The first man nodded in acknowledgement. They waited. The sand relentlessly trickled through the clock, ebbing the time away. When it was gone, no one had arrived to meet them. They prepared to leave as per their orders. Just as they were about to do so, the door crashed open.

A man staggered through it, his clothing charred and burnt through in places, revealing raw, blistered skin. His head was hairless and scorched on one side, giving him an odd appearance. Burns covered the same side of his face which was a mask of pain and shock. He staggered into the middle of the room, supporting another injured man who was missing an arm, from the elbow down, the stump charred and blackened.

Averil, is that you? What devil has beset you?

Averil gasped. Waterskin. He let the injured man, who was almost unconscious, slump to the floor next to Finn.

One of Finn's captors passed Averil a waterskin, and he drank greedily before tipping some of the water over his scorched head, crying with pain as he did so.

He sat heavily on a bale of cloth and caught his breath to speak.

Thank you, Daegal. A fierce beast attacked us. A dragon vicious with anger. The cellars were supposed to be clear, he reflected, although we got lost. We have ended up in the wrong cellar. He shook his head. It is of no matter now. Hrodgar is dead, burnt in front of me. I was lucky to escape with the professor Lord Balor wanted captured. He gestured towards the man on the floor, then took another drink. I see you captured the boy. The master will grant us gold as a reward.

Daegal remarked, Perhaps. At least we have our lives. Without the prisoners, we might not be so rewarded. We've no sign of Grinden. We think the Tuatha have captured him. We'll follow orders and make our way to the Tavern.

He bent down and plucked Finn's limp body from the floor, tossing him over his shoulder. Strang, help Averil with the professor. We must be gone quickly. Now they have Grinden, the Tuatha will be searching for us.

As they left the room, Averil commented, This keep has a labyrinth of passages and tunnels. I'm surprised they don't know about them and that we do.

Daegal responded, The master has taken good advantage of the layers of the White Keep. He knows more about these hidden passages than anyone else does. Occasionally, the Tuatha get lucky and capture one of us, but so far, we've had the freedom to roam as we please and to infiltrate their gatherings to learn about their plans. He grinned at Averil as they left. We have many spies and informants in the White Keep.

They reached another antechamber and entered a very narrow corridor. Strang helped Averil as he struggled with the weight of the injured professor who was mumbling incoherently and incapable of standing on his own, let alone walking. He heard the gentle lapping of water. We're at the river then?

Yes. We just follow this passage, and it will take us below Traitors Gate. Our Fomorian affinity with the sea and water will enable us to walk under the water and cross the river to the opposite bank, and then go on to the Tavern.

Averil asked, What if they see us? Haven't they got lookouts in place?

Daegal smiled. Wait. I will enchant us. They won't see us, and we'll escape under their noses. Follow me. I'll show you. It will only take a few minutes. They stopped, and Daegal removed a rabbit skin pouch from his tunic and sprinkled each of them with its contents, a dank green powder that smelled of burnt seaweed. He uttered an incantation under his breath as he did so.

They had to walk through the passage sideways as it wasn't wide enough to accommodate them. Between them, they carried Finn and the professor. The men made awkward progress as they shuffled sideways, each trying not to drop the boy or the professor. The last few yards, the passage dipped before sloping upwards and emerging onto a narrow docking area beyond a large portcullis.

Daegal said, We are out, beyond the gate. He pointed upwards. Tuatha guards stood atop the battlements above them.

Averil asked, Isn't it dangerous for us? Traitors Gate is the main entry to the White Keep from the river.

No, this place and the gate and the passageway across the river are all protected by a spell. It works on top of sorcery they put in place hundreds of years ago. That sorcery and our Fomorian affinity with the sea have been the secrets to us getting in and out of the White Keep for years and infiltrating the Tuatha. They don't know about it. One of Lord Balor's ancestor's chief sorcerers put the spell in place that hides this dock.

They descended the steps at the side of the dock and slipped unobserved into the river, not noticing the boy they were carrying had opened his eyes and heard their conversation.

George, Cerys and Arlene

2

Permission

George bounded from his bed. He couldn't wait any longer; he'd hardly slept, being fuelled by excitement at the thought of the raid on the tavern. He checked his watch. It was 2:30am. He decided to wake the others. He looked ruefully at Finn's empty bed for a moment before dashing from the room. 

He rudely burst into the girls' room without knocking and shouted, Come on, you two. It’s time to get ready to go on the raid. We’ve got to be downstairs early, or they'll leave us behind.

The two girls roused themselves. Arlene looked a little grumpy. 

Remember to knock next time before you come barging in, you noisy git.

George retorted exuberantly, Not a morning person then, Arlene? 

He strode over to the window and tore open the red velvet drapes. 

Look, it's a perfect day for a raid.

Cerys dryly pointed out, It's still dark outside. Make us some tea while we get dressed.

Cheekily, George said, I could always stay, but he ducked and left just as the girls started hurling their slippers at him. 

Cerys said, What is the matter with him? You'd think it was Christmas morning or something.

Arlene snorted. I think he is all show.

They got dressed quickly and joined George in the kitchen, where they drank the tea he'd made.

Arlene grimaced and said, This is tea, is it?

George nodded and spluttered crumbs as he responded through a mouthful of toast. Yep, proper builder’s tea. It’s the best. 

They finished their breakfast quickly, gathered their jackets, hats, and gloves — or motorcycle gauntlets in George's case — pulled on their boots, and left their rooms.

They took the lift to the ground floor and made their way across the training ranges. Even though there were no classes at this hour, there were signs of early activity, with several individuals working through combat moves. 

They arrived at the council tent on the far side of the great hall. George, slightly ahead of the girls and fuelled by a mixture of tea, toast, and excitement, burst through the tent flaps only to find Boru with a look of thunder on his face.

Arthur approached George just as the girls entered the tent and cautioned him. Don't utter a word right now. Remain quiet, listen, and, above all, be patient.

The three of them silently took seats on the audience benches on the right-hand side of the tent. 

Boru was in full tirade,