The Well of Tears
Page 29
Cerrigwen began to smear her blood over the bark, tracing the symbols with her fingertip and muttered something in a tongue he couldn’t comprehend. Finn tamped the urge to yank her to her feet, surrendering his better judgment to his oath. It was not his place to interfere, no matter what evil she had conjured. He wondered with vague foreboding why the songbirds hadn’t yet heralded the dawn. The sun was full up, but it still seemed dark.
With a banshee shriek that shook his bones, she smashed her hand onto the bloodied oaken shaving and crushed it into the earth. She threw her dagger to the ground, snatched up the bark, and held it to the sky. Cerrigwen pulled to a stand and turned sunwise, full circle, and then stopped to face him.
Finn gaped as she calmly reached down to pick up the blade and sheathed it, still crimson coated, at her waist. She looked at him then, as serene as ever he’d seen her. Cerrigwen slipped the bark into a cloth pouch tied to her belt, wiped her sticky, bloody palm on the front of her woolen cloak, and then held it out to him.
“Have you something to bind this?”
For a split second, he was dumbstruck. His instincts quickly snapped to, and he fumbled about himself for some sort of clean cloth. Hard pressed to find anything unsoiled after so many days on the road, Finn finally settled on his linen undershirt. With his own dagger, he hacked a strip from the hem.
“It’s the best I can offer,” he mumbled hoarsely. It was as hard to speak without spittle as it was to swallow.
Her lips curled in a cold and mirthless smile that unnerved him. “It will do.”
Finn looked away, concentrating on bandaging her hand. The last thing he wanted was a conversation, despite the searing burn of morbid curiosity in the pit of his stomach. Some things were best not known where she was concerned, but this time, his hunch told him better. There was real trouble brewing, and he needed to be prepared.
“You should clean this up, once we find some water,” he said, still fussing with the wrap. Finn split the last few inches of the rag with his teeth and tied the ends around her wrist to hold the cloth in place. “The last thing you want is a festering wound.”
If Cerrigwen heard him, she ignored him. A quick glance at her face found her gazing blankly past him into the trees. Just as he screwed up the nerve to ask after her plans, she began to ramble in a furtive hush.
“Time is with us now, you’ll see,” she whispered.
“How do you mean?” he said gently.
“We’ve a clear path, before us and behind us.”
“And you’ve made it so?” he prodded.
Cerrigwen nodded, but her eyes were absent of thought or recognition.
Finn asked. Casually, he hoped.
“That was no bewitchment, Finn,” she said wistfully to the trees. “It was a summoning.”
“Of what, exactly.” “It was necessary.”
The chill of panic rippled through him, and Finn squeezed her wrist roughly. “What is it you’ve called now?”
She stared at him wide-eyed and vacant, as though she still didn’t see him. He gripped her arms and shook her until she blinked. “What, damn you!”
“Don’t you look at me with such shock and disdain, Finn MacDonagh.” Cerrigwen yanked herself free of him. “You of all people should know what I have lost, and what I must do to regain it.” Her voice slid deep and malevolent. “In this more than any other cause, I will not be defeated. Not at any cost.”
An aching shudder wracked his stolid frame and nearly threw him to his knees. His chest cinched so tightly around his lungs he couldn’t breathe to speak. Finn feared for those they’d left behind, the Stewardry and his comrades, his brother, and especially his youngest boy. He had tried not to wonder what had befallen them.
“By everything holy, Cerrigwen!” he gasped. “What have you done?”
“Life demands sacrifices of us all, Finn. You’ll make do, just as I have.” She turned back toward the trail where Pedr waited with the horses. “Now come along,” she ordered. “And be quick.”
His hand reached instinctively for his dagger. For one fleeting instant, Finn considered ending her. The father, the brother, and the man in him screamed for it. Oh, he hated her enough. She was cold and mean and barren of grace or compassion. Finn had no doubt that Cerrigwen was beyond the reach of all reason. Someone must stop her, for the sake of every innocent life she might yet destroy.
But it was not to be him. Finn’s grip on the hilt slackened. He fought to keep angry tears from blinding his reason and grappled his baser instincts against overruling a sacred edict. He could not forsake his duty, no matter what Cerrigwen had done. She was revered, a mortal vessel of unearthly wisdom, and Madoc himself had charged the MacDonagh clan with the sacred honor of serving her. Though Finn might not see the sense in it, powers far greater than he were at work here. Finn had to have faith in her righteousness. It was all he had left. For if ever his faith failed him, every decision he’d made in his life would be rendered nothing more than a miserable, unbearable mistake.
Finn begged for mercy under his breath as he followed Cerrigwen back to the horses, mercy for himself, his family, and the entire world. Bitter agony, this awful moment, and one Finn knew he would die regretting. For now, he could only hope to undo whatever harm Cerrigwen had wrought and keep her from wreaking more.
Lexicon of the Stewardry
Ard Druidh (First Wizard)
Sovereign of the Stewardry of Fane Gramarye
Cad Nawdd (Army of Protectors)
The castle guard at Fane Gramarye
Circle of Sages
Also known as the Stewards council, a circle of knowledge and power forged by the joining of the four guardians of the realms
Coedwig Gwyn (The White Woods)
The magical forest near the ancient Welsh village of Pwll that shelters Fane Gramarye
Crwn Cawr (Circle of Champions)
The protectorate created to accompany the guardians of the realms in exile
Cymru
The lands known today as the Kingdom of Wales
Dream-Speak
The language of the dreamer, the timeless tongue with which the Ancients pass their wisdom to the Ard Druidh in the shroud of a dream, the power that can only be gained by drinking the waters of the Well of Tears
Fane Gramarye
The magic temple and last stronghold of the Stewards, hidden in the enchanted forest of Coedwig Gwyn near the village of Pwll, located in the province of Strand Tyrwi in the land of Cymru
Hywel ap Cadell, or Hywell dda (Hywel the Good)
Son of Cadell of Seisyllwg, heralded as the only ruler to unite all of Cymru under one hand and credited with the codification of the first written, binding law of the land
Keys to the Realms
Four talismans that channel and amplify the elemental forces of the universe:
Lapis Lazuli — key to the Spiritual realm
Moss Agate — key to the Natural realm
Moonstone — key to the Celestial realm
Bloodstone — key to the Physical realm
Mistress of the Realms
Each born only once in a generation, the four Mistresses of the Realms are descended of a magical bloodline that carries a unique affinity to one of the elemental dominions
Mystical Realms
The four dominions: Spiritual, Celestial, Natural, and Physical; their elemental forces: Water, Air, Earth, and Fire; and their corresponding magical arts: Empathy, Augury, Metamorphosis, and Alchemy
Norvik
A tiny fishing village located on the Frisian islets near the Danish borderlands, south of the river Eider; homeland of Aslak, great captain of the Cad Nawdd and leader of the Crwn Cawr
Obotrites
Nomadic Slavic tribes, also known as the Wend
Stewardry
A sorcerer’s guild devoted to the stewardship and teaching of the old ways
Well of Tears
The enchanted pool whose waters hold the ancient secrets of the Ste
wards; by drinking of the sacred waters, the knowledge and experience of all who have come before is passed from one generation to the next
Hierarchy of the Stewardry
The Principals of the Ninth Order
Madoc, Ard Druidh and Sovereign
Machreth, Proctor and Madoc’s Chosen Successor
Alwen of Pwll, Mage and Mistress of the Spiritual Realm
Branwen of Pwll, Oracle and Mistress of the Celestial Realm
Cerrigwen of Pwll, Healer and Mistress of the Natural Realm
Tanwen of Pwll, Alchemist and Mistress of the Physical Realm
Glain, Leader of the Acolytes, Confidante to Madoc
The Bloodlines
Clan MacDonagh
Fergus, The Elder
Finn, Brother of Fergus
Pedr, First Son of Finn Odwain, Second Son of Finn
Odwain, Second Son of Finn
House Aslaksson
Aslak, Chieftain of Norvik and Famed Captain of the Guard
Goram, First Son of Aslak
Thorvald, Second Son of Aslak
Tribe of the Wolf King
Bledig Rhi, The Chieftain
Alwen, His Life Mate
Eirlys, Daughter of Bledig and Alwen Rhys, Son of Bledig and Alwen Domagoj, Blood Brother of Bledig
Acknowledgments
I am forever grateful to my loving husband Andre, children AJ and Morgan, and the rest of my family — who believed in me before I believed in myself, and kept the faith when I faltered.
My heartfelt appreciation to my dear friends Tammi Cole, Barbara Dahl, Beth Kelly, Gina Ford, and Sherri Williams — who bolstered my spirit and nourished my soul throughout my creative journey — and to author Carla Neggers, a gracious and giving person, whose generous support will never be forgotten. And, most especially, I acknowledge Jennifer McCord, without whose teaching, guidance, example, and friendship I could not have taken this journey.
Thanks to librarian extraordinaire Kristin Johnson, who shared her knowledge and resources so that I could write with authenticity; to the talented artist Sally J. Smith, whose artwork opened creative doorways; and to actors Rutger Hauer, for his unknowing support and encouragement of my writing, and Vladimir Kulich, whose gifted portrayal of a larger-than-life hero inspired an entire clan of noble warriors.
Special thanks to my agent Jennifer Schober, warrior goddess, wise woman, and kindred spirit, and the true champion of this work.
And last though certainly not least, I offer my undying gratitude to my editors Alex Carr and Betsy Mitchell, whose respectful guidance and enthusiastic support of this book have graced its pages in immeasurable ways.
Author’s Note
Historical fiction has fascinated me most of my life, especially those stories infused with myth and magic. When I was introduced to Mary Stewart’s interpretations of the Arthurian legends in the late 1970s, I became truly obsessed with the chivalrous adventures and passionate heroes who so readily embraced honor, nobility, and sacrifice in defense of their people and their land. I felt personally connected to these tales, and for good reason.
The Welsh have a word for the call of one’s homeland. Hiraeth has been described to me as a longing for the soil from which your lineage has sprung. It is a connection to the land of your forefathers that transcends time and distance and ever bids your return. Although I did not always understand it for what it was, I have always known that longing. I am, after all, a native daughter. As it happens, my great-great-grandfather and his brothers emigrated from the British Isles to North America around 1850, leaving behind nearly three hundred years of ancestry rooted in Cornwall and Wales.
While the story herein is nothing more than a grand tapestry woven from my own imaginings, it is important to note that some of the places and events which set the stage are real. For the sake of authenticity, I searched for unique historical events — events so unique that the suggestion that they might have been influenced by an unearthly power would be easy for most anyone to entertain.
Hywel ap Cadell, descended from a long line of kings, ruled in Wales from around 905 AD until his death in 950 AD. Hywel is credited by many historians with stabilizing the political and economic climate of the region by bringing all of the independent kingdoms under his sole control. It should be assumed that he accomplished this through no small measure of ruthlessness and brutality. However, Hywel understood that territorial disputes between clans and power struggles between kings led to the sort of unrest that threatened the unity of all nations and, in turn, made them vulnerable to outside influence and invasion. Through the codification of a body of laws that addressed issues of local governance, property rights and social conduct, and by adopting a policy of conciliation with England, Hywel maintained sovereignty and an era of prosperity and peace that was unprecedented in those times. The stuff, as they say, of legend.
Naturally, to someone so fixated on the mythology of my heritage, such a wondrous reign begged the question — what if ? What if the old ways had a hand in the destiny of this man and magic truly had altered the fates of people by working through kings? And so were sewn the seeds of the Dream Stewards.
To tell such a mystical story with any sense of realism, I needed to find a place where the worlds of mortals and magicians might actually have met. Through an acquaintance, I discovered the centuries-old village of Pwll (which means “pool” or “well”). Pwll still stands at the bottom of an ages-old forest located between the towns of Llanelli, and Burry Port in Wales. Pwll is purported to have been built near and named for an ancient spring or well that was believed to contain waters with mystical powers. And so began this saga.
The Well of Tears is a tale that is part fact, part fable, and just a little bit fantastic. My intent was to take you beyond the historical record, into the mysterious realms that exist alongside what we know to be real. In this place, all things are possible.
Awen á bendithion…
(Inspiration and blessings)…
About the Author
Photograph © Brian Huntoon, 2000
A lifelong writer, Roberta Trahan’s first works of fiction draw upon generations of family history originating in Cornwall and Wales, as well as her love of the mythology and culture of her ancestral home.
After graduating from the University of Oregon with a journalism degree, Trahan pursued a twenty-five-year career in sales, marketing, and publicity. Eventually the lure of writing drew her back to her creative roots, and she is now a full-time novelist and core member of her local writing community — as a speaker, instructor, and member of several writing organizations.
The Well of Tears is her first book, but hardly her last. She is a Pacific Northwest native and currently lives with her family near Seattle, Washington.