by Holly Taylor
“And that is?”
“That an army of Coranian warriors enters Coed Ddu and ensures that my brother is killed.”
“That may be somewhat difficult,” Arianrod said with an edge to her throaty voice, “for the Cerddorian are surely no longer in Coed Ddu.”
“I will not suffer my brother to live,” Llwyd said between gritted teeth.
“Poor Llywd Cilcoed,” Arianrod murmured, “didn’t your brother counsel the Prince to take your life when you first came to Coed Ddu?”
“He will not live one month beyond the completion of my bargain to the Golden Man.”
“It is agreed,” Arianrod said with a smile.
“Then I am yours to command,” Llwyd said with a smile as false as the one Arianrod wore.
Arianrod took a small glass bottle from the inside pocket of her fur cloak. As she handed it to him the morning light flashed off the bottle, illuminating the milky-white liquid inside.
“Mistletoe,” Llywd Cilcoed breathed. “So, that is how you want it.”
“That is how Havgan wants it. You are to watch the dose. You must not kill him until he tells us what we want to know.”
“And what am I to ask him?”
“We want to know what the High King’s plans are. We want to know the secret ways into Cadair Idris. And we want Rhiannon ur Hefeydd.”
“With Gwydion as bait.”
“A bait she will take.”
“You are sure?”
“I am sure.”
“I have read of this but have never tried it myself. You are sure it will work?”
“He will be disoriented, unable to focus. Your voice will be the only thing he can hear and understand. Given long enough he will tell you what you want to know.” Again Arianrod reached into her cloak and this time she pulled from it something wrapped in a white cloth. With clear distaste she unwrapped it and an enaid-dal spilled across the cloth, lying in her hands with dull, gray menace.
Llywd could not even bring himself to touch it, so much did he loathe the sight of it. He felt a chill creep across the back of his neck and his heart beat faster. Perhaps she had brought him here for another reason. Perhaps they meant to betray him, the way he had betrayed his Prince and his brother, the way he intended to betray the Dreamer. Perhaps—
Arianrod’s almond-shaped eyes glowed with malice. “Don’t be a fool, Llywd Cilcoed. You are not, and never have been, important enough to capture. It is not you that we are after. And you will not have to touch it,” she went on. “These two guards will go with you. One of them will carry it and put it around the Dreamer’s neck.”
“And just how do you intend to lure him here?” Llwyd asked as she re-wrapped the enaid-dal and handed it to the guard who stood beside her. “He will never leave Cadair Idris for you.”
“He is not in Cadair Idris. He is returning there from southern Prydyn. I have seen him on the Wind-Ride.”
“How did you know where to look for him?”
“I didn’t. I knew only that he was no longer in Cadair Idris. And I knew that only by a feeling. So I left Eiodel and began to journey south. I knew that he had gone that way, but not where he had gone.”
“What has he been doing in the south?” Llwyd Cilcoed asked.
“I have not yet been able to determine that,” she said crisply, for she would tell no one what Havgan had dreamed about the Master Smiths. “But it is of no matter. What matters is that I have found him and he is coming this way—close enough for me to contact him. I shall Wind-Ride to him tonight. Two days from now he will be close enough for you to take him.”
“You don’t think he will really trust you?”
“Of course not. But he will agree to meet me nonetheless.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You simply have to know him. And I know him very well indeed.”
“So you say, Arianrod.”
“Just leave that part to me. Be assured that the Dreamer will meet me outside of Cil. You and the guards be ready to take him.”
“I will be ready, Arianrod,” Llywd said. “Believe me.”
THE SHADOWS LENGTHENED, casting smoky gray cloaks over the chill fields. The sun sank, turning the sky an angry red. At last the sky darkened enough for the scattered stars to spring forth. It was disglair wythnos, and so the full moon rose early in the east, casting its silvery glow over Arianrod as she stood on top of the hill.
The moonlight spilled over her, so bright that she cast a shadow down the hill that faded and mingled with the dark, cold earth. Far off she heard the lonely howl of a wolf as it paid homage to the shining moon.
She felt a momentary chill in spite of the warm cloak she wore, and her hands wrapped protectively over her belly and the child she carried. The only real qualm she felt was that she would not lie in Havgan’s arms tonight, nor for a few nights yet. When she had left him in Eiodel, setting forth on this errand, he had not wanted to let her go. He had not said so but she had known.
But she knew how important it was to her lover that Gwydion ap Awst be found and brought to him. And she had not even struggled within her heart against such a task, though for many years the Dreamer had shared her bed. For never had she loved anyone as she loved the Golden Man. Never had a man’s soul called to her, wrapped around her, comforted her and stirred her as Havgan’s did. Never had a man looked at her with such passion, such longing, and such promise as the son of Hengist.
Never would she feel alone again, as long as Havgan shared her world. And he would continue to do so if she could make Kymru safe for him. And one of the ways to do so would be to capture Gwydion.
So she would do this. Do it for the Golden Man, the other half of her lonely soul.
She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow. “Nantsovelta,” she murmured, “Lady of the Waters, Queen of the Moon, beloved of the Dewin, be with me as I Ride the Wind.” She breathed in slowly and her body felt as though it was made of glowing, silvery light. The pearl in the torque around her neck glowed softly. She spread her arms to the sky, and felt her awareness shoot forth—up and up, and to the south, seeking Gwydion, knowing he and his party were camped for the night less than thirty leagues away.
The glow of the distant campfire guided her as she neared the campsite. She spiraled down, coming to rest just at the edge of the firelight. She remained hidden in the shadows as she scanned the faces of those by the fire.
She saw High King Arthur and knew that the boy had become a man. His clean profile shimmered in the firelight, which played off the scar that ran down one side of his stern face as he stared at the flames in a way that made Arianrod want to shiver. For she sensed a little of the distant presence of Annwyn and Aertan, of Chaos and the Weaver, of Death and Fate, in the way Arthur gazed at the hungry fire.
She saw Aergol, the Archdruid’s heir, one of her former lovers, surrounded by four other Druids. So, it was true that Aergol had turned against the Archdruid and offered himself to the High King. That Arthur had not killed the traitorous Druid made her think the boy-turned-man was weak, for she did not understand mercy or wisdom and never would.
She saw Llywelyn and Cynfar, the sons of the Master Bard and the Ardewin. And she saw Cariadas, the Dreamer’s heir, and Sinend, Aergol’s daughter.
She saw a group of men, women, and children huddled together beside another fire and knew them instantly. So, the High King had indeed freed the Master Smiths of Kymru and their families, just as Havgan had dreamed. Even now the news would be traveling to Eiodel.
She saw Rhiannon, the woman Arianrod had hated from the first moment they had met at Y Ty Dewin so many years ago. The firelight played off Rhiannon’s shadowy hair and emerald eyes as she smiled and answered some question of Cariadas'.
It was to Rhiannon that Gwydion’s silvery gaze flickered the most, though this was something that she did not seem to notice. The flames played off of Gwydion’s handsome, stern face as the Dreamer stared into the fire, as though seeing a future there
of which he could not speak. When Rhiannon turned to him for a moment and asked him something, Gwydion’s face softened in a way that Arianrod had not even known he was capable of. And the Dreamer smiled at Rhiannon in a way that Arianrod had never seen him smile.
It was a smile very like that she saw on Havgan’s face when he looked at her. And for a moment Gwydion and Havgan seemed the same man, two sides of a single, shining blade, one light and golden as the sun and one dark and silvery gray like the moon. And her body standing far, far away at the top of a lonely hill shivered.
Then Gwydion looked up and saw her.
She did not even have to gesture for him to be silent. She did not even have to turn her head and nod at the surrounding trees. She did not even have to gesture with her hands in the language of the Anoeth for him to know that she wanted to speak to him alone.
They had always known each other so well. It was what she had been counting on.
He quietly rose to his feet and walked away from the campfire. The rest did not question his leaving, though Rhiannon shot him a sharp glance that he did not see. And Arthur looked up from the flames with gleaming eyes but did not speak.
She followed Gwydion as he made his way through the trees, stopping some distance away from the campfire where he knew he could not be seen or heard. He turned away from the distant glow and looked for her as she came to stand before him.
Her hands moved, her fingers shaping the Anoeth, the gestures that Dewin used to communicate to others when they Wind-Rode.
Gwydion ap Awst, you look well.
And Gwydion answered her with Mind-Speech. How it must hurt you to be pleasant to me for even one moment.
Then we will not continue the pleasantries, if you don’t mind. And get down to business.
Ah, yes. Business.
Dinaswyn—
You dare to use her name? Gwydion’s Mind-Speech was ragged as his anger and sorrow leapt from his mind to hers.
Havgan killed her. He took his dagger and thrust it through her heart. Her hands faltered then began again. Dinaswyn sank to the snow and her blood seeped from her. And I knew then—
You knew what? Gwydion’s contempt hit her like a blow. But she had known it would be like this.
Her blood was mine. We were one, and always had been. Oh, Gwydion, if only I had known this when she was alive! For now it is too late.
Too late to save her, yes. Arianrod, what do you want?
To take it back. If only I could.
But you cannot. And I must tell you, I do not believe you for one moment.
I did not think you would.
Then what now? You have found us this night. Can we then expect Havgan’s Coranian’s to capture us tomorrow?
No. I have left him.
You have not.
I have. I left Eiodel a week ago. Havgan did not see me go. But I believe Elstar knew. I felt someone watching from Cadair Idris. I thought, at the time, that it was you. But I know now that it was not.
Gwydion hesitated. Arianrod almost smiled, for now she had him. He had heard something from Elstar. Had heard, but not quite believed. And now he did.
This child I carry has made me see what I have done, even as Dinaswyn’s death did. It is a boy, a son. It is a child that I cannot let Havgan have. I cannot let him twist the boy as he has been twisted. I cannot let the child ever know his father. I cannot let my son leave Kymru. He must stay here, where his heritage is. And if I must pay full price for that, than that is what I will pay.
Still Gwydion did not speak, so she went on.
I saw in your eyes, so long ago, what having a child of your own could do. How it could change everything. And this boy is changing my heart, even as Cariadas changed yours.
She saw, then, the belief beginning in his silvery eyes, though his Mind-Speech was as cool as ever.
What do you expect me to do, Arianrod? Welcome you to Cadair Idris?
No. The most I hope for is your protection. You may send me where you like, as long as I am far from Eiodel. And the Golden Man.
Where are you now?
And she knew that it was as good as done. I am a few leagues outside of Cil.
In her mind Gwydion sighed. Arianrod, you must know that you will not be believed. Arthur will need to be convinced. And I, too, will need more persuading.
I knew you would. And so I tell you this, and can provide proof. Havgan has plotted with Llwyd Cilcoed to capture you.
Llwyd Cilcoed! Where is that chicken-hearted weasel?
Here with me, near Cil. He does not suspect the truth. He thinks that I am going to lure you here for him to capture.
And how does he intend to do that? I am to tell you that he is here with me. I am to offer him to you, as though I do this without his knowledge. You will meet us and he will collar you, for he has an enaid-dal.
And just how does he intend to collar me?
It is to seem as though I have bound him. His wrists will look as though they are tied. But they will not be. You will think him helpless and turn your back on him to face me.
And where am I to meet you two?
Where you tell us. You are not too far from us now. Llwyd and I will be nearby when you camp two nights from now. You will leave the others to meet us.
And how is he to know that I come alone?
He thinks you will tell no one, for you would wish to bring him to Arthur yourself, for his judgement.
Then I will indeed meet you both near where we will camp two nights from now. And be assured, Arianrod, that I will not come alone.
I did not think you would, Gwydion. Bring whom you wish, it is nothing to me. I ask only one thing of you.
What is that?
That you ensure the safety of my child. For everything I do here, I do for him.
And that, out of all the things she had said that night, was true.
Addiendydd, Disglair Wythnos—early evening
AELFWYN, DAUGHTER OF the Emperor of Corania, Star of Heaven, despised and neglected wife to the Golden Man, smiled to herself as she crossed the almost deserted courtyard of Eiodel.
She knew, finally, that there would be nothing he would keep back from her. Not anymore. Not now that she realized his secret.
For he was in love with her. And she knew it.
Now that she knew she wondered why it had taken so long for her to see. It had come to her unexpectedly, simply, in the quiet manner that the deepest truths make themselves known. She had been at the evening meal and she had put out her hand and picked up her golden goblet of wine and had accidentally brushed his hand as it lay tensely on the table. At the barest contact he had snatched his hand away, curling it into a fist so hard his knuckles had whitened. His breath hitched, then he was still.
And then she had looked up and, for the first time, had truly seen him look at her.
At first she had not known what to do with that knowledge. At that moment she had looked away, uncertain as she rarely was. Worse than not knowing how to use this truth was that she had not known how she felt about it.
She had lain awake most of last night trying to come to a conclusion or two. In the end she could only decide that this meant he was an avenue to that which she desired most. For the rest—for her heart that had begun to stir for the first time in years—she had put that aside deciding it was unimportant for now. If she accomplished what she must, then—perhaps—she could think of it.
The dusky twilight dimmed the diamonds scattered through her blond hair as she mounted the steps leading to Eiodel’s battlements. Her white gown whispered across the black stone of the cold fortress as her clear green eyes glittered in the wavering light of the torches set at regular intervals in brackets along the fortress wall.
At last she reached the top and made her way across the flagstones. He would be on the north side, looking at Cadair Idris. As he always did when he came up here.
Overhead the stars began to spring forth in all their jeweled, cold beauty. His back was to her, thou
gh she knew he heard her approach. He would know it was she, for his heart would tell him.
“What do you see when you look at the High King’s mountain?” she asked.
Sigerric turned and looked down at her. His thin face was carved into bitter lines. But she saw the light in his eyes, limned with starlight.
“My Lady,” he said and began to bow.
“Don’t bow to me, Sigerric,” she said softly. “Never to me.”
“Then to who?”
“To my husband, perhaps,” she said with an edge to her voice.
Sigerric turned away and looked again on Cadair Idris. His thin, tense hands gripped the top of waist-high stone wall. “To him I have always bowed.”
“And always will.” Oh so delicately her voice rose at the end of that statement to make it—almost—a question.
“I cannot answer you, Princess,” he said, not looking away from the glowing mountain.
“Cannot or will not?”
“Dare not.”
“Ah.” She said nothing for a while, gazing across the plain at the softly glowing mountain that rose from the bones of the earth. Even from this far off she could make out the jewels that winked and glimmered on the Doors of Cadair Idris. The silence of the night sank into her skin, almost soothing her, almost making her forget that one thing she wanted more than anything in the world. Almost, but not quite.
“Where is she, Sigerric?” she asked quietly, knowing he would answer.
“Gone.”
“Yes. But where?” she insisted.
Sigerric turned and looked down at her upturned face. She was not sure how much he saw there, but she knew he saw something of the reason she was here. And she saw him close his eyes to it and she knew that no matter how long it took, no matter what she had to do, he would not prevent her from having what she wanted so badly. But neither would he directly aid her.
“She left to meet another Dewin. They plot to capture Gwydion ap Awst.”
“But how?” she gasped, for she had not expected this. “How can they get to him in Cadair Idris?”
“He is not in Cadair Idris. Not any longer.”
“How do you know that?”
