"Do you mean to lead me near Rhodderi's holdings? Then, when Maelgwn follows, Rhodderi and his men will attack?"
Llewenon's eyes glittered gleefully at Rhiannon's words, but he made no response. It had been the same all day. Llewenon refused to answer any of Rhiannon's questions about his plans. He was willing to talk of the past, but too canny to risk revealing the trap set for Maelgwn.
It did not matter, Rhiannon thought wearily. Her worries were undoubtedly true. They had walked all day, and even with the sun's path obscured by the boughs overhead, she knew they were moving west, toward Rhodderi's lands. Llewenon had made no attempt to cover their tracks. It was obvious he expected them to be followed. How long did she have? How long before she was missed at Degannwy, and a messenger sent after Maelgwn to warn him she had been abducted?
It might take days for Maelgwn to piece together the facts of her disappearance and come after her. Or, perhaps he would not bother. Perhaps he would decide she had left him of her own accord. Rhiannon's insides clenched at the thought, but she realized such fears might be used to undermine Llewenon.
"Maelgwn may not follow me, you know," she told her captor boldly. "I disappeared once before, and it took him some weeks for him to search me out. By then the trail will be cold, and Rhodderi's men will have tired of waiting in ambush."
"Oh, he will come after you—of that I have no doubt. I have no worries for Rhodderi's men. If they fail in their mission, it will not matter to me. I will still have you."
Llewenon's hand tightened on her arm, and Rhiannon's stomach heaved suddenly. Besides the dread Llewenon's words aroused in her, she was tired, thirsty and near faint with hunger. They had walked constantly for the last few hours, and she was not certain how much further she could drag herself. Did she dare reveal her misery to Llewenon? If he realized how weak and ill she was, he might guess about the babe. Then he would have a new weapon to use against her.
Another wave of sickness assailed her, and Rhiannon realized she had no choice but to ask Llewenon to stop. She ceased walking, and Llewenon jerked to a halt beside her. "If you do not let me rest soon, I will have no energy to perform the ceremony for the Goddess," she said. "You always slept the day before you called upon your magic. How can you expect me, a woman, to have the strength to exert my powers if you do not let me rest?"
Llewenon frowned but did not urge her on. As his eyes perused her, Rhiannon forced herself to stand straight and tall, but she could not hide the sweat that trickled down her forehead or the pallor of her face. She could only hope he attributed her distress to her fear of him.
Slowly, Llewenon nodded. "We will walk until we find a clearing where the moon can shine down upon us. There we will remain until tonight."
Chapter 32
"By the true God, Maelgwn, how did you know we had visitors?"
Maelgwn ignored the awestruck look on Gareth's face and gestured for the men behind them to come to a halt Together they watched the small party of mounted men traveling toward them down the coast road. A crimson and green pennant flapped above the lead man, indicating the travelers were of the Brigante tribe.
Maelgwn frowned. He had received no word from his northern allies all winter. Had they heard some rumor of Rhiannon's disappearance or, worse yet, the scandal of her parentage? Either way, the alliance was threatened. Could this be the reason for his forboding?
Beside him, Gareth let out a sigh of relief. "It's a fair sign that Gavran leads them. He's a good man. I can't think he'd get himself too tangled up in this nonsense over Rhiannon and Esylt."
Maelgwn gave his officer a sharp look, then turned back to watch the approaching envoy. The Brigantes spotted them and increased their speed. When he was a few paces away, Gavran let out a shout and rode his horse straight at Maelgwn. Maelgwn hesitated, unsure whether to draw his sword to defend himself or wait.
He did nothing, and at the last minute Gavran swerved. As he pulled the lathered horse to a stop, the Brigante warrior let out a hoot of laughter. "Ho, Maelgwn, you unlikely bastard! Do you have the sight? We sent no word of our arrival, and yet here you are, waiting to meet us. It's uncanny!"
Maelgwn felt a smile of relief creep across his face. "Gavran," he said heartily. "It's good to see you. What brings you to visit?"
"What? You don't know?" Gavran asked, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "I thought surely by now you'd have searched your scrying bowl and learned the events of the winter." Gavran puffed out his chest and smiled broadly. "By rights, you ought to bow your head in homage to me. Behold, my lord, you speak to the new king of the Brigantes."
"You?" Maelgwn could not keep the shock from his voice. Fortunately, the Brigante man appeared to take no offense. Gavran chuckled and shook his head. "I should challenge you for the insult, but I dare say I was as surprised as you to find myself king." He gestured toward the fortress on the hill above them. "Welcome us to your hearth, and I will gladly tell you the whole tale."
Llewenon paused in an oak grove. Rhiannon came up behind him, panting and holding her belly. They had stopped once to drink from a stream, but not a bite of food had passed her lips since morn. She was weak and dizzy, from fear as well as hunger.
Collapsing on the ground, she heaved a sigh of relief. When she looked up, Llewenon stood above her. He watched her with narrowed eyes. "The Goddess must be a weak deity indeed to choose such a pitiful vessel for her power. I begin to question whether you possess any real magic. Perhaps your hold over your husband is merely the love spell of a comely woman over a feeble-minded man."
Rhiannon regarded Llewenon warily, but did not answer. It might serve her purposes to have Llewenon doubt her power. In any case, she did not have a scrap of energy to argue with him.
Llewenon pulled his eyes from her and gazed at the sky. It was barely past twilight, and the moon was still faint. Rhiannon saw him clench his hands into fists and she sensed the tension which throbbed through her captor's body. It was little wonder true power had eluded Llewenon, she decided. In her experience, the gods did not reward impatience.
It seemed they had rested only a few moments when Llewenon turned to Rhiannon again and announced, "It's time. You'd best get up and prepare yourself."
Rhiannon rose. Prepare she would, she thought grimly.
She shook off her weariness and forced herself to stand tall, then stretched her arms upward to the sky. The position made her back ache and her head swim with dizziness. She willed the discomfort away and concentrated. She was so untried at this, so new to the power.
Sweat trickled down her face and neck as she strained to clear her mind of distracting thoughts. Memories flashed into her mind. Another moonlit grove, Llewenon grabbing her from behind and pushing her down to the ground. The pain, the blood seeping down her legs.
This time, she reminded herself, the blood would not be her own but from the babe inside her. Rage engulfed her, filling her with strength. She would not let Llewenon kill Maelgwn's child! This time the Goddess would come to her as Morrigan, the goddess of vengeance and war. Llewenon would suffer!
Rhiannon's mind emptied and the power filled her. The weightless energy made her limbs tremble and her blood thunder through her veins. She opened her eyes. Llewenon was watching her. She turned deliberately away from him and lifted her head up, seeking the moonlight on her face. As she did so, her right hand reached slowly for the knife in the pouch at her waist. It was a small knife, the blade short and curved. If she were careful, she could conceal it in her hand.
"Enough!" Llewenon's voice seethed with impatience. "Remove your clothes now. I want to see your body bared."
Rhiannon took a deep breath. The thought of being naked and vulnerable before this man terrified her. She clutched the knife more tightly.
She turned to face him and slid the knife into the folds of her skirt. "You must be naked as well," she said. Her eyes met his defiantly. "You said you wanted me to teach you my secrets. This is one of them."
Llewenon hesitated, then his hand went to th
e drawstring of his trousers. He jerked them down, exposing himself. Rhiannon looked away. "What do you wait for?" Llewenon snarled.
Rhiannon pulled her gown over head, revealing the shift of fine white linen beneath. She looked at Llewenon, her eyes focused firmly on his face. "Your tunic," she prompted.
His mouth twitched. "You first."
Rhiannon pulled off the shift and gazed at Llewenon. His expression was gleeful. "Ah, Rhiannon," he taunted. "You are no longer the unappealing little rack of bones you once were. The Goddess has made you into a woman. I could almost think to get some pleasure of you. Almost."
Rhiannon gritted her teeth and held the knife more tightly as Llewenon approached. His smile gleamed in the moonlight, then the shadow of his body loomed over her. He was so close, she could smell his stale, unwashed scent. "Your tunic," she said. "Take it off now."
Grinning, Llewenon grabbed the edge of the long dirty russet garment and lifted. For a moment his chest and neck were exposed as he struggled to pull the tunic over his head. As if of its own accord, Rhiannon's hand jerked forward, and the knife slipped silkily through the curve of Llewenon's bare neck.
The tunic tumbled to the ground. Llewenon went still, staring at her. Rhiannon held her breath. Had she truly slashed his throat or merely imagined it? She saw the river of red seeping across Llewenon's throat. His eyes widened and he clutched his neck.
Rhiannon watched him. Nothing could stem the flow of his life's blood. Already he was strangling in his body's fluid, slowly choking to death. She expected to feel pity or horror, but she did not. The Goddess's power still hummed in her veins, filling her with a sense of triumph. Justice was served by what she had done. Llewenon was at last stripped of whatever meager power he had possessed, his twisted cruelty banished at last.
Llewenon fell to the ground, still clutching his throat. On hands and knees, he writhed and made ugly gurgling sounds. Rhiannon went to him and spoke. Her voice rang out with the metallic coldness of the deity. "You have failed, Llewenon. It is time to return to the spirit world. Perhaps there you will find the knowledge which has eluded you in this life. Remember these words, if you can. The power cannot be taken by force. You must surrender your soul to possess it."
Llewenon's body went still. Rhiannon knelt and reached out a trembling hand to touch him. When he did not move, she heaved the body over so Llewenon lay on his back. His eyes stared blindly at her. She waited, expecting his spirit to leave his body and confront her. There was no sound except the soft sigh of wind through the grass.
The sense of power vanished, and Rhiannon shivered in the cool night air. Wave after wave of dizziness assaulted her. She retched, vomiting up the bitter dregs of her belly. When the worst had passed, she crawled to where her shift lay and pulled it over her. Her senses were thick with the smell of blood and death. Cold moonlight seeped into her thoughts. She welcomed it.
It was morning when Rhiannon opened her eyes. Rhodderi was leaning over her, his eyes staring with dread. He backed away as she sat up.
"You," he whispered. "You killed him!"
Rhiannon sat up and took in the bloody scene that horrified Rhodderi. Llewenon lay a few feet away from her. Black blood stained the ground between them, and her bare body was smeared crimson from where she had crawled through the grass. Her eyes met Rhodderi's.
"I did not kill him," she said. "This was the work of the Goddess. She sent Llewenon back to the spirit world to learn some humility and compassion."
Rhodderi backed further away from her, crossing himself in the Christian fashion. When he made a movement as if to leave the clearing, Rhiannon held her hand up and spoke commandingly. "Stay. I have something to say to you."
Rhiannon stood and retrieved her gown. She pulled it on quickly, then turned to Rhodderi. He had not moved, but his face was pale and sweat ran in rivulets down his temples.
Rhiannon took a deep breath. The Goddess was not with her now, but perhaps she could feign a semblance of Her power. "In the past you have doubted me, Rhodderi, doubted that I had the right to be Maelgwn's consort. You have plotted against my husband and me. As you can see, I am under the protection of the Great Goddess, and She will avenge any wrongs done to me or mine. If you try again to trick or murder Maelgwn or any one I love, I will call down the Lady's vengeance in all its fury."
She gestured toward Llewenon's gruesome corpse. "Her hand against Llewenon was gentle, for She knew he was a weak man, his mind poisoned by old jealousies and hatreds. But you," Rhiannon faced Rhodderi threateningly. "You know exactly what you plot. For your greed and selfish lust for power, the Goddess would punish you even more horribly."
Rhodderi's mouth worked. "I don't believe in the Goddess," he said, "but I would be a fool to brush aside your threats completely. You are Esylt's daughter." He smiled faintly, and Rhiannon sensed some of his tension ease. "I knew your mother in the old days, even before Maelgwn thought to claim the kingship. Quite a woman she was, too, with her remarkable height, that black hair and white skin. She pulled more men into her sticky web than I care to count. I always said, if she'd had a pair of balls between her legs, she'd have ruled all of Britain."
Rhodderi paused. Rhiannon continued to watch him warily. Her eyes caught movement in the low bushes and scrub behind him. Her heart sank as she saw the sun glint off weapons and mail among the green foliage. Rhodderi had brought his war party. He did indeed plan to ambush Maelgwn.
Rhodderi's eyes moved over her in a way that showed both admiration and revulsion. "I never knew Esylt to kill in cold blood. You must get your ruthlessness from Ferdic. Tell me, how did you trick Llewenon?"
Rhiannon tried to calm the pounding of her heart. At least Rhodderi did not know who her true sire was. That was a secret best kept between her and her husband. "Llewenon knew the Goddess worked through me," she answered. "He wanted a share of my power. He was too much of a fool to realize it only comes to women."
Rhodderi walked over to Llewenon's body and stared at the corpse a moment, then shook his head. He lifted his eyes to meet Rhiannon's. "I've misjudged you, Lady Rhiannon, princess of the Brigantes. I've thought Maelgwn a simpleton for insisting that you remain his queen. Now, I see he has known all along exactly what he possesses."
The gray-bearded warrior lifted his hand in a kind of salute. He turned and began to walk away. When he was halfway to his war band, he called out over his shoulder. "Go back to your husband, Lady Rhiannon, and breed up sons endowed with your courage and your husband's might. In the future, Britain will need such men." He turned and a wolfish grin flashed in his beard. "And if you have a daughter, send me word at once. I have five sons, and I would not mind allying my house to one that possesses your unearthly powers."
Rhodderi reached the underbrush and signaled his men to disperse. Rhiannon waited until the final glint of weapons and armor vanished, and only the gentle breeze stirred the bushes. Her head whirled with amazement at what she had done. She had faced down Maelgwn's greatest enemy, and without the Goddess's power behind her. She—little Rhiannon—had dared to send a warrior away.
The awe of it made her dizzy. Or was it the lack of food and water which made the ground reel underneath her feet? The past hours had taken their toll. Her body felt as if it had been pounded from head to foot. Her tongue was thick and swollen in her mouth, her head ached, and her stomach roiled with queasiness. It would be a wonder if she could walk back to Degannwy. Certainly she could not do so unless she had some water.
She searched her mind, trying to remember when she had last seen a spring or a stream. The landscape around her was completely unfamiliar. She could only guess which way Degannwy lay, and hope she would encounter some source of water on her journey.
Rhiannon began to walk. The slight breeze brought her the sweet scent of blooming hawthorn from a distance.
She inhaled deeply and asked the Goddess to refresh her weary body—just as She restored the forest's splendor each spring. Sighing, Rhiannon thought again how wonderful it wa
s to be alive, to hear the music of the birds in the trees, to feel the moist air caress her skin. Deep in her body, safe from the trauma she had endured, the babe slept, rocking gently in its water cradle as she walked.
She made good progress for several hours. The thick, silver clouds overhead made it difficult to determine the passage of sun in the sky, but she guessed it was about midday when she finally encountered a bubbling stream and drank her fill of the cool, refreshing water. After that she walked faster, renewed by the Goddess's life fluid.
The day wore on, and Rhiannon's strength began to fade. Each step was an effort, and she wrapped her arms around her belly to quell the agonizing hunger burning there. The landscape around her still looked unfamiliar, and she had the sinking feeling she was no longer headed in the right direction. Rhiannon shook off her doubts and kept walking. The Goddess had protected her this long; she must keep her faith and believe She would continue to help her.
As the forest shadows lengthened, Rhiannon heard sounds in the distance. She cocked her head and listened. Several horses at least—her heart leapt for joy. Maelgwn's men had come for her! There could be no other reason for mounted men to travel in this way.
Sinking down on the ground, Rhiannon decided to wait where she was. She did not think she could take another step anyway.
The mounted party grew nearer. Worried that they might run her over, Rhiannon staggered to her feet. "There she is!"
The riders drew to a stunned halt. For a moment Rhiannon and her husband merely stared at each other. Then Maelgwn flung himself from his horse and came rushing toward her.
"Who did this to you?" he gasped as he neared her.
Rhiannon shook her head mutely. She was so relieved to see Maelgwn, she could hardly respond. Then she realized Maelgwn thought the blood smearing her clothes was hers.
"I'm not hurt," she reassured him. "Only exhausted."
He enfolded her in his strong arms. She resisted the urge to collapse completely as Maelgwn touched her face with soothing tenderness. "Dear God, Rhiannon," he said. "Tell me what has happened."
Dragon's Dream Page 35
