by Frewin Jones
“No, Mama, it won’t,” Branwen said. “It won’t, because I’m part of it. The Shining Ones have chosen me.” She looked into her mother’s fearful eyes. “They brought me here. They helped save us. Let me go to them, Mama. I’m doing this of my own free will.”
Lady Alis stared into Branwen’s eyes for a few long moments. Then she dropped her arms from around Branwen and took a stumbling step backward. “Fetch my daughter a horse,” she called, her voice trembling.
A warrior led a horse to them, his eyes full of alarm as he looked at the shining path.
“Thank you,” Branwen said to her mother. “I don’t know where this path is going to take me.” She swung up into the saddle. “But I will come back, if I can.”
Lady Alis came to the horse’s side and looked up into Branwen’s eyes. “Must you do this? Will you not stay to mourn your father, to help me rebuild Garth Milain and protect our people?”
“I must go, Mama.” She tugged at the reins, turning the horse toward the path. “I can’t stay with you.”
At first she feared that the animal would refuse to set its hoof on the magical way, but it stepped forward fearlessly; and as it did so, the light of the path sprang up like white sparks all around it. She knew that she would grieve for her father, that she would grieve deep and long for him; but right now, in this fleeting moment, she felt only pride that he had died in such great honor, saving his people from their ancient enemy.
Suddenly she was galloping along the path, and the music of high, clear voices sang in her ears. And flying straight and true above the path in front of her was Fain, Rhiannon’s companion, messenger of the gods, leading the way. At the eaves of the forest, Branwen’s horse paused in a net of starlight, and Branwen turned in the saddle to look back a final time. The flames still leaped from Garth Milain, but it was not that dreadful sight that held her gaze. It was the sight of another rider, moon bathed, sitting his steed awkwardly as it galloped along the path toward her.
Smiling, she waited until Rhodri caught up with her. They looked at each other with glowing eyes.
“Where else is there for me to go?” Rhodri asked. “Or would you rather be alone?”
“No,” Branwen said. “I wouldn’t.”
She pressed her heels against her horse’s flanks, and the animal stepped in under the canopy of leaves.
The Old Gods are sleepless this night
They watch and they wait
For the land is in peril once more
And the Shining Ones gather
To choose a weapon, to save the land
The Warrior
The Sword of Destiny
A worthy human to be their tool.
About the Author
FREWIN JONES has always believed in the existence of “other worlds.” In the Mortal World, Frewin lives in southeast London with a mystical cat called Siouxsie Sioux. Visit Frewin online at www.myspace.com/frewinjones.
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Credits
Jacket design by Ray Shappell
Jacket art © 2009 by Gustavo Marx/MergeLeft Reps, Inc.
Copyright
WARRIOR PRINCESS. Copyright © 2009 by Working Partners Limited. Series created by Working Partners Limited. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition DECEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061985669
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