by Lisa Rector
Ahnalyn knew. She’d been in denial for weeks. After Brenin was killed, she didn’t want to face the reality of pregnancy. As Caedryn touched her stomach, she could feel the bump. It had started to show recently.
“You didn’t think to tell him. Even now you’re wondering whether Brenin would still be alive if you’d told him. He wouldn’t have ridden off to battle to be slaughtered. This is two loved ones you’re responsible for killing. My, how the darkness grows inside you!”
Ahnalyn squirmed in his grasp, and Caedryn let her go with a snide laugh. Outrage rising in her chest, she glared at him. How could he make such accusations? How could he know what I’m feeling?
“Your anger feeds me, Ahnalyn. You wouldn’t be so easy to read if you lacked such fear in your heart. Tell me, where’s your dragon? She doesn’t talk to you, does she? Your hardness hides her from your sight.” Caedryn laughed.
What dragon? None of this meant anything to Ahnalyn. She had never felt so stupid in her life.
“You know nothing of what an emrys is? Pity. This shall be to my advantage.”
***
Another month slipped away with summer. The weather cooled, and leaves fell from the trees. Lord Caedryn took Ahnalyn back with him to his capital, Islwyn. As they rode in, she glimpsed the city on a river that flowed from the mountains in Rolant. Ships traveled up the river from the northern sea. Islwyn was not a bright, white city like Hyledd, but a rough-looking sea town with avenues that wound into close neighborhoods. The modest houses had thatched roofs, and the citadel was built from dark, cold-looking stone.
Ahnalyn’s stomach swelled into a smooth, subtle protrusion. She was no longer nauseated all the time. Lord Caedryn fed her better than General Gethen, so Ahnalyn became stronger. She had the feeling Caedryn supported this pregnancy for his own devices.
What would Lord Caedryn want with my child? I’m half-immortal? Would the baby carry the same traits? What could this mean? None of her thoughts made sense, but whatever the reason, Ahnalyn knew that was why she was still alive. Gethen had said she was valuable.
When Ahnalyn first arrived in the dank river town, Caedryn imprisoned her in the dungeons below the citadel. She didn’t see anyone for weeks except when food was brought for her three times a day.
One day Caedryn appeared, his vile aura immediately sickening Ahnalyn.
“Ahnalyn, you’re glowing! My, how radiant you’re becoming.” Caedryn appeared to glide toward her. Ahnalyn couldn’t decide if he looked intimidating or sly. He grasped her chin, turning her face, looking at either side.
“You’re fair-skinned but dark-haired,” Caedryn observed airily. “Emrys are fair-haired. Their skin is so light it’s luminescent in the sun. No doubt your hair color is from your father.” Caedryn’s eyebrows lifted as he let go of her face, and Ahnalyn pulled away.
“This cell is abhorrent.” Caedryn was ignorant of Ahnalyn’s disgust as he glanced briefly around the room of cold stone. “If you do a task for me, I can increase your comforts.”
Caedryn portrayed kindness, but Ahnalyn could see under his artifice. She narrowed her eyes. What could I possibly do for this weasel?
“I want you to call your dragon.” Matching her narrowed eyes, Caedryn’s face darkened as he looked at Ahnalyn.
“I don’t know if I can.” This concept of her mother as a Dragon Rider was unheard of. Ahnalyn didn’t comprehend what this was. Having never even seen one, she couldn’t understand how to call a dragon. “What you ask is impossible.”
“Don’t be a fool, Ahnalyn. Your dragon is there all the time. You have to stop being stubborn and allow her into your mind!”
Ahnalyn squared her shoulders. “You presume too much. You forget I know nothing of what you’re referring to. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Emrys have a connection with their dragons,” Caedryn spat, emphasizing each word. “The stone around your neck allows you to hear each other. You can see through each other’s eyes. Your dragon would be sorely distressed to know of your discomfort, and she would come to you.”
“How do you know this?” Ahnalyn spat back, her body tight with rage. “How has she never come before? Where is she even? I’ve had much distress these past years, and she’s never come to me. I don’t believe you—and why would I call her for you?” Ahnalyn turned away, her hands shaking, her mind seething.
Caedryn let out a snide laugh. “You’re heightened emotions will allow her access to your thoughts.” He reached out and touched Ahnalyn’s arm. “Poor Ahnalyn, so lost and confused. Have you not heard your dragon guiding you before? She’s had your best interest at heart—whispering to you and sending you visions through her sight.”
Ahnalyn stumbled back as if she had taken a blow. The voice was a dragon’s, not my mother’s. Disappointment soaked through her. How could she have been so childish and hopeful? Her mother was dead. Ahnalyn would never hear her voice again.
“How do I not know of the emrys? How do you know of them?” Ahnalyn asked, regaining composure by taking a deep breath.
“Emrys live in a hidden realm. No one knows where it is unless they’ve been there. You have to be an emrys to enter their realm,” Caedryn said matter-of-factly.
“How do you know so much? Have you seen one?” Ahnalyn asked. This dolt could be fabricating the whole tale.
“It’s been many years since I last saw one. They don’t leave the dragon realm to interfere with the affairs of men. Too bad your mother didn’t see fit to tell you where it was. She did you a great disservice.” His face relaxed into a bored expression.
“You mean she did you a great disservice,” Ahnalyn snapped, the energy of the conversation draining out of her. Wishing he would leave, Ahnalyn sat on her bed and turned away from Caedryn.
Caedryn must have received the hint. Ahnalyn heard the whoosh of robes as he left her to seethe in her disappointment.
***
Restless, her mind racing, Ahnalyn paced the cell. The visions were from my dragon—I saw through my dragon’s eyes? Ahnalyn recalled the flames and the voice she heard. The voice had been helping me. Why did I not learn more? I should have told my father. He could have helped me to understand. He must have known who my mother was. Annoyance brimmed inside her at how she took life as it was, instead of questioning.
Ahnalyn continued to pace the cell to stay occupied and strong. In time, this baby would come, and Ahnalyn needed to be prepared. But being alone with her thoughts and her sorrow, every long day the same with only mealtimes to gauge the passage of time, was tedious.
Why did my mother hide who she was? Her mother had worn the necklace before she gave it to Ahnalyn. Did they have the same dragon? How did the stone work? Why had the dragon never come for her mother? If Caedryn wanted results, why didn’t he give her more answers? It hurt Ahnalyn that her whole life was a mystery and a lie.
So much for the protection she felt in those short months with Brenin. Ahnalyn refused to believe Brenin had been using her. She truly believed he loved her—she had seen it in his eyes and felt it in his touch—He told me he loved me. Brenin must have known she was an emrys. How did Brenin know what an emrys was? Why didn’t he tell me? Was everyone intent on keeping secrets?
She was beaten. Ahnalyn decided to deny the voices and visions, if she could help it—not altogether sure how they came and left. I won’t let them in. They had come on their own before and had given her comfort or help. Perhaps she was being stubborn. But whatever Caedryn’s designs were, she would oppose them. She wouldn’t call out to her dragon. Ahnalyn would keep her mind closed, even if it meant she was on her own. She would exercise control.
Ahnalyn wondered about the strange half-man, half-deer she had met in the forest. Taliesin knew peculiarities regarding her as if he was clairvoyant. He knew about Brenin’s last words and implied she should follow a certain path. How? Just one more mystery. We shall see what truths unfold now. Find the truth indeed. Ahnalyn huffed.
***
Lo
rd Caedryn came down to the dungeon again after several weeks.
“Have you thought my offer over? It pains me to see you in such dreadful quarters.” Caedryn held a look of deep sympathy.
“I doubt that.” Ahnalyn sat on her bed with a blanket stuffed behind her aching back.
“Come, Ahnalyn, you don’t know me at all. I care for your welfare.” Caedryn prowled closer.
Ahnalyn let out a crude and derisive laugh. “Truly, my lord, you surely must.”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere, child. You must see life as it is. Make the best of your circumstances.”
“Is that what you’re doing, making the best of your circumstances? You make me sick,” Ahnalyn said. “Neither one of us are going to yield, so why don’t you leave me alone.”
“Ahnalyn, I can be extremely patient. My forbearance has no bounds.” Caedryn drifted around the cell and looked at it objectively.
“So it seems.”
Caedryn wriggled his nose. “I’ll extend this one courtesy so you’ll know of my generous nature.” His eyes roved up and down her body. “I can’t have you crawling with lice or fleas—”
“Really now, this is your concern.” Ahnalyn smirked.
“If you must be rude… what I’m concerned for is your health and the health of the child. Someone shall come in and give you a bath and sweep your cell.” With this, Lord Caedryn turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, clanging the door behind him.
Right, the health of me and my child. Clearly Lord Caedryn was not the sanest captor. Ahnalyn almost preferred Gethen’s harshness and stale bread to Caedryn’s slimy magnanimity.
After a short while, two men entered, carrying a metal tub. An old woman followed behind with two buckets of steaming water. The men set the tub down and left the room. The woman poured the buckets into the tub and stepped outside the room and returned with a straw broom. One of the men returned, carrying two more buckets of water. Apparently Caedryn was quite serious and what a bath this would be—four whole buckets of water! Ahnalyn couldn’t help but feel slightly excited. She’d been ignoring her smell for weeks.
The old woman helped Ahnalyn to her feet, her belly making movement difficult. The men left, and the woman helped Ahnalyn shed her filthy clothes and climb awkwardly into the tub. Ahnalyn breathed a sigh of relief. Tensions all over her body released. Is this a trick to make me cave? Surely this was what Caedryn had planned. After a luxurious bath, she would want to call her dragon to secure a better room. Ahnalyn would not be easily swayed. While she soaked, the woman swept the room, and produced a clean blanket for the bed. The woman placed bundles of lavender around the room.
“Do I stink?” Ahnalyn wondered aloud, giving her armpits a sniff.
The woman huffed. “It keeps bugs away.”
Oh? Ahnalyn looked at the ends of her hair. Was it infested with lice? She scratched her scalp.
The woman finished with the room and approached Ahnalyn. She dumped a cold liquid in her hair and scrubbed, using her fingernails, and yanked Ahnalyn’s head painfully. Ahnalyn rinsed it in the water. After she was clean and dry, the lady pulled out a new garment—a loose-fitting dress to allow more room for her growing belly. Though made of rough, gray linen, at least it didn’t smell.
Well, Lord Caedryn will be sorely dismayed, Ahnalyn thought. After this luxury, I could manage to keep my sanity for a few more weeks. A few more weeks. This was what Ahnalyn surmised she had until the baby came. After that, who knew what would happen.
Lord Caedryn visited the dungeons on a regular basis after the bath—almost weekly. Perhaps he wanted to assess her progress. But his regular visits served to taunt Ahnalyn, to mock her because she knew nothing of who she was. He still pressed her to call to her dragon. Ahnalyn argued that if he wanted her to call her dragon, he would have to give her more information to go on. Tell her more of who she was, but Caedryn refused. They were at an impasse.
Ahnalyn’s belly swelled more with the passage of time—time becoming her enemy. She hobbled, ate, slept. Her thoughts became her torture. Caedryn’s appearances, acid for her wounds. His face haunted her dreams. Caedryn—Brenin loved me, but he’s dead—life is a lie—call my dragon—Caedryn again. It became endless, multiplied by her aching body. She must be going mad. She was wrong to think one bath could hold her out to the end. If only she had her father. How she missed him! If he were here, he could give her strength. She shuddered to think what her child’s birth would be like without anyone she cared for to help her through it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAINFUL CHAOS
Because of being trapped in her box of a cell, Ahnalyn couldn’t tell the season by the weather, but through the bars of her prison, she heard the birds announcing the return of spring. One morning they started singing and wouldn’t stop.
Ahnalyn had grown, her belly jutting straight out, making her body look grotesquely disproportionate. Her mind’s eye was completely closed to any dragon voices, wrapped in a shroud, and severed from the world. All she heard was Lord Caedryn in her head. The despair and doubt was a smothering blanket over her spirit. Nothing could make her feel whole. Ahnalyn allowed herself to anticipate her demise.
She woke early when the room was still black. Her belly was painfully tight. Ahnalyn winced and curled around her stomach—the labor was starting. The pains were few and far between, so Ahnalyn paced the cell, rounding over her belly when the agony surfaced.
Light soon broke through the barred window and with it came the guard bearing breakfast.
Clenching her teeth through a contraction, Ahnalyn snarled, “Tell your Lord Caedryn his prisoner is in labor.”
The man scurried off.
Not five minutes later, a hunched, old woman and a burly man came into the room.
“Lord Caedryn said you’re to labor in a better room where he can keep an eye on you,” the woman said through rotted teeth.
Ahnalyn grimaced and nodded. The man scooped her up, carried her up several flights of steps to a room, and laid her on a bed, complete with a plush blanket. Ahnalyn relaxed, her belly softening, affording time to take in her room of richly colored fabrics and brocades—and a bonus, the rising sun casting rays through the balcony window.
This might be the bright spot of my day.
Caedryn slinked in, wearing black leather and a cloak. “Ahnalyn, what a momentous day this shall be. I’m sure Lord Brenin is watching from the beyond for his half-immortal to be born. Have you called to your dragon yet?”
“Ahh!” Ahnalyn threw a heavy candlestick from the side table at him.
Caedryn caught it with a gloved hand and laughed. “Well, I shall leave you to it.”
The hunched woman came over to the bed and touched all over Ahnalyn’s belly with ugly, gnarled fingers.
“The labor could be many hours or many days. The baby is high and has not yet dropped. Sometimes it’s long for new mothers,” she wheezed.
Ahnalyn knew nothing of birthing babies, but she knew of lambing sheep. She knew the labors were long and sometimes the ewes needed help. Unsure how to do this on her own with only this creepy lady, Ahnalyn prepared herself, hoping she had enough strength. She sincerely hoped Caedryn would stick his head back in the room so she could throw a heavier object at him.
“Get out of the bed and sway beside it,” the woman said. “It will help the baby drop.”
With difficulty, Ahnalyn rolled out of the bed and stood beside it, grasped the post, and swished her hips side to side.
A severe pain hit, and she doubled over on the bed. Her vision split, shifting from the room to sky and clouds. Trees below whizzed past as though she were a bird flying overhead. In her peripheral vision, Ahnalyn saw a garnet red dragon contrasted against the azure sky.
“No!” Ahnalyn gasped, while clutching the bed linens.
She knew what was happening as if it happened every day. Ahnalyn could see what her dragon saw. The muscles in her stomach released, and she could see her room again. Ahnalyn s
wayed her hips. Her stomach tightened again after many long minutes. Villages and farmland appeared far below—her dragon was flying somewhere.
Ahnalyn cried out. The pain dissolved her control, causing an onslaught of annoyance, blinding Ahnalyn to her surroundings, and confusing her reality.
With the next labor pain, Ahnalyn heard voices.
Aneirin, something is wrong with her! She’s in pain. I can feel her fear. We have to fly faster. I can see what she sees, said a feminine voice, low and urgent. She’s in a room with a balcony overlooking the river.
We’ll reach her soon. We draw closer. I can feel her weakening light. Tell her to hold on. Fly as you have never flown, Seren! Make haste, a man’s voice replied.
***
Ahnalyn panted, she’d been in labor the entire day, her vision going in and out with the scenery constantly changing. The land was in miniature, a dragon’s eye view over the country, with farms and rivers as tiny dots and slivers. At one point Ahnalyn saw mountains with snowy peaks.
She lay in bed and dozed between the labor pains. The woman said the baby was lower, but her water remained intact. Moaning with another pain, Ahnalyn saw the river and the city. They are close. Her vision came back again. In her mind, Ahnalyn could feel urgency that she was sure stemmed from her dragon. Then again, Ahnalyn was so exhausted she wasn’t sure anymore. I want this to be over, she sent out mentally as the pain took her again.
We’re almost there, Ahnalyn… I feel you. The words were faint.
Knowing help was on its way was somewhat of a relief, but Ahnalyn was unclear as to how this help would come.
Lord Caedryn came into the room. “You’ve lost control. Your dragon is coming. You see through her. I told you she wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. The power of pain—my patience is paying off.”
With eager and greedy anticipation on his face, Caedryn looked as if it were his birthday. Ahnalyn felt sick—his presence made her sick.
