by Signe Pike
Manannan’s mist. They said Manannan, son of the sea, was as gifted a god as the earth had ever known. He could summon the mist to cloak himself in invisibility, or cast it about his people, leaving sea raiders to splinter their boats against sharp knives of rock. I wondered if he might have cast the mist upon us now, but to what end I could not say.
I knew, if I chose, I could lose myself in it.
One slick step, and I could simply slip off the edge of the earth into the land of the Gods, into the Summerlands, and join my mother. A choice.
A gift?
It would be an unfettering from the timber and stone of this world, from all that would soon bind me to a stranger, to a future of sinuous control.
My head suddenly felt light, as if I’d been spinning. And all I could think was: What if their princess fell from the mountain? Would that not be the greatest sacrifice of all?
I swayed toward the edge of the path like a sapling in the wind. And then an iron grip clamped my arm, jerking me swiftly from the edge of the mountain and safely onto my knees in the wet grass.
“Watch yourself,” Brant said, his quick brown eyes missing nothing. “For a moment I was quite afraid you’d fall.”
I shook my head to cease the spinning, and had reached to accept his hand when I noticed the crest of a white-tipped feather half buried in the grass.
The talisman! But how had it ended up here on the path before me? I had watched Ariane retrieve it from the ground at the feast and tuck it into her cloak. She must have dropped it. Or else Ariane was determined I find it. I gritted my teeth in annoyance.
“What’s that?” Brant leaned over, and I clutched at the feather instinctively.
“It’s nothing,” I said, folding it reluctantly into the pocket of my cloak.
“As you say.” Brant fell into step with me. “You must be careful up here, on the mountain. Sometimes it’s best not to open your ears. My mother used to say there were more spirits than Gods living on this hill. And not all of them wish us well.”
“I never knew you to be superstitious,” I said.
He smiled. “When you spend enough nights in wild places, you come to see there’s little superstition in it. I’ve heard many a strange thing on a night’s watch deep in the wood.”
“What sorts of things?”
He searched the mist before answering. “Voices that belong to no earthly body. Ghostly music that drifts on the breeze. Once I saw strange lights in the trees.” He looked away as if he’d revealed too much.
“My mother used to talk of spirit lights.”
“Could be,” he allowed. “I don’t particularly like to question. Sometimes it’s best not to open your ears,” he repeated.
We caught up with Father, and I glanced over the trail’s edge into the blackness, shivering to think I might have cast my body down the mountain. I touched the feather beneath the folds of my cloak. Perhaps it was good I keep it close. A talisman, Ariane had said, to work whatever ends were needed.
Had I indeed heard the murmurings of some wayward evil spirit? Or was it the keening in me itself that was a danger, a weakness?
Perhaps this was what Ariane knew but did not say. That a broken woman could never lead a kingdom.
Or perhaps she only knew I could not face the days to come as a fractured woman with a fractured heart. There must be something to ease this aching, or else it might cause my ruin. Taking a breath, I drew the feather from my cloak and slipped it once more around my neck. Up ahead a deep cleft in the mountain opened onto its vast and sloping spine.
The summit, at last.
We gathered at a distance from the Keepers. They stood beside a simple stone dais where Cathan waited, arms cast wide. Eyes fixed to the east.
The last stars of evening had buried their bright heads in the clouds racing overhead, and the crowd on the mountain was bathed in the purple promise of morning. Cathan took a breath, and the low-bellied chant rose up from the Wisdom Keepers in the ancient and rolling tongue of our people. The Call to the Sun.
We lifted our faces as the first brilliant rays reached us from the east. As the sun came up to light the earth, I felt its warmth flow through me as thick as honey. And then, as if by magic, the mist parted, revealing the rippling water of the loch below and the jeweled strand of islands rising from its midst.
A cheer rose from the mountain, the cheer of a thousand people lifting their voices in gratitude, in triumph. In hope and in peace. The wind whipped up over the mountain and the feather fluttered against my neck. And then I knew he was near.
I could feel the heat of Maelgwn’s gaze on my back like the glow of a different sun. I turned slowly to see him standing in the crowd, barefoot in a soft gray tunic and trousers, his arms at his sides.
His eyes raked me over, and I wanted to pummel him.
I wanted to run to him.
I stood, torn between the two, as he closed the space between us.
“I did not see you after the feast,” he said.
“I did not stay long.”
“Languoreth, I—”
“You needn’t explain anything to me,” I said. “You owe me nothing.”
“I did not take her to bed. I could have. But I didn’t.” His eyes flashed.
I felt embarrassed and selfish all at once. “Whom you take to your bed is no concern of mine.”
“Oh, is that so? I think you are greatly concerned about whom I take to bed.”
“Then you are wrong.” I leveled my gaze on his.
“Sweet Gods, you’re stubborn.” Maelgwn cursed under his breath.
“Stubborn?” I leaned in so no one else might hear. “Because I refuse to be your plaything? What a prize I would have been, the daughter of a king! I saw the look upon your face—you were toying with me. You meant for me to see you with that . . . woman.” My voice had risen in pitch and I glanced round, worried I’d been overheard. But no one seemed to take notice over the clamor of celebration.
“Yes,” Maelgwn whispered fiercely. “I meant for you to see. I only meant to serve you what you’ve wanted, for we warriors are nothing more than wayfaring seducers, are we not?”
“If that is what you set out to prove, you’ve succeeded in making your point.”
He threw up his hands, then stopped, letting out a slow breath.
“I’ve hurt you. It wasn’t my intent. Perhaps there was a part of me that sought to provoke you, to know your true feelings. But I would never intentionally cause you pain. Not you,” he shook his head. “Never you.”
“What right have I to be hurt?” I asked. “And yet . . .” My cheeks flushed with the admission.
He took my hand, his fingers pressing my knuckles. “Languoreth, I am sorry.” The touch ignited a heat in me. I did not want him to let go. “I assumed you had settled your heart,” he said. “And yet I hoped you had not.”
My eyes pricked with tears and I turned, not wanting him to see. But Maelgwn mistook my silence for something else and released my hand.
“Perhaps I’m the plaything, Languoreth,” he said, as if trying to understand. “How long would you see me suffer over my love of you?”
His words hung heavy in the early morning air. I turned to face him. Maelgwn’s eyes were fixed on mine, watching, naked, gentle.
“I do not wish to see you suffer,” I said. “Not anymore. Not ever.”
A look passed between us.
“Come down the mountain with me,” he said. “Will you? Please? I know another way.”
Moments ago it seemed that the world beyond us had entirely fallen away. I blinked now, suddenly remembering we were surrounded by a world of observers. Waiting for Father or Lailoken to admonish me. My every step had been under watch since I’d arrived at the games—Look, there is Morken’s daughter. There is the girl who’ll wed Rhydderch—but now no one regarded us. It was as though we had slipped behind a veil and been rendered unseen. I had not believed it was possible.
“I shouldn’t—” I began,
then bit my lip. I wanted this time with Maelgwn with such ferocity, I had no choice but to trust it. “I suppose there can be no harm in climbing down a mountain.”
“All right.” Maelgwn gave a broad smile. “I mean, good. Follow me; it’s this way.”
I followed him across the summit. Beyond a hulking splinter of granite, a narrow sheep’s trail led steeply downhill and Maelgwn extended his hand. I noticed for the first time a thick scar over the curve of his right knuckle, one wound of many in the lifetime of a warrior.
“From bracing my shield,” he explained, following my eyes to our joined hands.
“That must have been quite a blow.”
“Aye” was all he said, leading me gently down the trail. When we came to a muddy patch he slowed, his spear-hardened fingers warm and steady in mine.
“I’m certain you’re a fair enough climber on your own, but if you’re willing to accept my hand, I fear you’ll find no shortage of offers for it,” he said.
I arched my brows but did not release his hand. The last strains of laughter from the summit faded in the distance, and quite suddenly it felt as if we were moving through a dream. The slope sprouted with bell heather and delicate wild carrot, and I could hear the buzz of insects as I followed Maelgwn through the thick, wild grass into the quiet cover of woods.
“It’s beautiful here.” I drew my hand gently from his, looking up to where the trees knit their branches overhead, making me feel like a minnow darting through a channel of green gorge water.
“Yes.” Maelgwn admired the branches overhead. “We had a wood like this behind our hut growing up. My brother and I would scarce have woken in the morning before we were out playing chase and exploring the wooded world, hiding when our mother called us to supper.”
“You have a brother?” I asked.
Maelgwn squinted into the distance.
“I did, aye.”
“He’s gone,” I said carefully. “I’m so sorry.”
“Ah.” He gave a small smile. “They say he dines in the Summerlands now.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“Not always.” He cleared his throat and reached a hand to help me cross a mossy chain of rocks that led through a stream. “He was five years my elder. As far as I knew, he made the moon. My brother rode at Emrys’s side.”
“How did it happen?”
Maelgwn stopped. “For a long while I didn’t know. Then, as soon as my fourteenth winter came, I rode to join the resistance. I wanted to be a Dragon Warrior like my brother.” He paused. “It was Emrys who told me my brother hadn’t died in battle.”
I could see it pained him. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to go on, but Maelgwn bowed his head and continued.
“Gwenddolau had been captured, you see. He was only fifteen winters himself at the time, on his way to join his father in the Borderlands. They could see straightaway that wee Gwenddolau was a noble. He was no match for the brunt of an Angle sword. Don’t know why they didn’t kill him. They needed coin, perhaps, or cattle to get through winter. So they ransomed him. My brother was in the party that rode to collect him. The Angles took the coin and the cattle. But they would have their blood sport, too.” Maelgwn’s jaw tightened. “They demanded a man to take Gwenddolau’s place. My brother offered himself up. What a right bastard he was.” He fell silent, his green eyes on the rocky path before him.
“Gwenddolau was held prisoner?” I asked, astonished. “We never learnt of it. If he was fifteen, that would have been just as he left us.”
“Aye. Being taken like that, it’s hard on a man.”
“But Gwenddolau was hardly grown from a boy! There can be no shame in that.”
“For a warrior there is always shame,” Maelgwn said. “Such things are always seen as weakness. We encounter Angles who taunt him for it still—until their breath is cut short.”
I reached to touch his arm. “Your brother was brave. He saved Gwenddolau’s life.” So this was the bond I had seen pass between Maelgwn and Gwenddolau on the night of the Midsummer feast. “Gwenddolau has pledged his sword in debt to you.”
Maelgwn nodded. “He has sworn he would give his life to save mine. I told him there was no such need. But Gwenddolau carries my brother’s death upon his shoulders. None save Pendragon and our men know of his pledge. And now you.”
“And what of Pendragon? Did you not blame him a little for the loss of your brother? Could he not have traded another man?”
“It was my brother’s choice, not Pendragon’s. Men who rally to the standard know what danger it brings. My brother was clever. He knew that without the combined might of Ceidio and Lord Emrys, our resistance was doomed to fail. Gwenddolau was Ceidio’s son. His heart. If Ceidio lost his heart, it might have all gone to dust. My brother is only one of many who have given their lives in defense of our land.”
Our words fell away, replaced by the quiet rush of water. We rounded a bend in the trail to discover the stream had carved a narrow chasm into the side of the mountain where a little waterfall spilled down in a cold rush, clear as a crystal.
“A pretty spot,” Maelgwn said. “Should we sit awhile?”
“I would like that.”
I took off my cloak and Maelgwn spread it on the ground, gesturing for me to sit, but lowered himself onto a rock at a respectful distance, as if I were a doe that might bolt. I wrapped my arms about my knees and looked admiringly at the water.
“I’ve never felt so free. I cannot believe we were able to simply leave,” I said. “Doesn’t that seem funny to you?”
“No.” He considered it. “Perhaps. In stories, we hear about heroes who climb a mountain or dive to the bottom of a loch only to find themselves in another land, where time is not counted in hours, and the weights of the ordinary world drift away like feathers.”
Feathers. My fingers went to the talisman at my breast. Maelgwn leaned back a moment, regarding me. Dappled sunlight cast itself in slender beams from the canopy overhead, lighting his eyes like green amber. A gentle breeze came up off the water, blowing a strand of hair about my face, and Maelgwn reached to brush it behind my ear, his strong fingers surprisingly tender.
“I’m amazed I managed to hit the target yesterday. You were a right distraction.”
“Maelgwn . . .” I paused a moment, searching his face. “That morning in the stables . . .”
“Yes?”
I swallowed. “Lailoken said you came to ask for my bride price. Why did you not tell me yourself? It was my hand you were asking for. Did you not think I had a right to know?”
“And what good would that have done? I was too late, wasn’t I?” He glanced away. “It would have been too late whenever I asked. Your father was kind, but he said as much.” Maelgwn gave a humorless laugh. “I do not blame your father. I am but a warrior. What is that when put beside a man who might someday be king?”
“Would that you had told me,” I said quietly.
“And if I had? What would you have said?”
I looked into his eyes, my heart beating in my chest like a wild-winged creature. “I would have told you that Rhydderch may have bought my hand, but he cannot own my heart.”
Maelgwn’s eyes flickered with surprise. There was a moment when all we could hear were birdcalls. Then he lifted a hand to my face carefully, as if I might slip through his fingers.
“I do not know if I am under some illusion, if this is real or if I dream,” he said.
“This is no dream.” I swallowed my fear and reached to cover his hand in mine. “You said upon the mountaintop you wished to know my true feelings. It frightens me to say it, but when else might we have the chance? I am mad with love of you. I am mad with love of you and I cannot shake it. Truth be told, I haven’t heart enough left to try.”
Maelgwn pulled me to him, wrapping me in his powerful embrace. “Sweet Gods, how I’ve longed to hear you say it,” he murmured against my hair. His linen shirt was soft beneath my hands as I pressed myself closer, runni
ng my hands down the curve of his spine and bringing them to rest on his lower back. He drew back to study my face, his solemn eyes questioning.
“And what are we to do, my love?” he asked.
I raised my face to his, my voice soft. “In a fortnight I will be wed.”
Maelgwn winced as if stung, and drew back. “Yes. Of course.” He dropped his hands from my waist, but I clutched at them, urgent.
“I am sorry to even utter it, but we cannot ignore it. I cannot fight it; I cannot change it. But I would be with you. Here. If this moment is all we might have, I cannot turn from it.”
“This is a difficult decision,” he said carefully. “Perhaps you are uncertain.”
I shook my head, confused. “Don’t you want me?”
Maelgwn sucked in a breath. “I want you,” he said fiercely. “I want you more than anything.”
I put my palm to his face, forcing him to look deep into my eyes. “There is nothing uncertain in the way I feel about you. I must have you. If only for today. It must be enough to last a lifetime.”
My words were Maelgwn’s undoing. He drew me to him again, this time almost roughly, his voice a raw whisper against my throat.
“If this is how it must be, so be it.”
We came together with the fury of a storm. Our lips joined and I raked my fingers through his hair as we fell back onto the blanket of my cloak blindly, the mossy bank soft beneath us.
I arched against him, breathless, rising to meet the searching of his tongue again and again as his fingers traced my ribs and circled the curves of my breasts. Maelgwn broke away long enough to strip off his shirt and I let my fingers explore the hard muscles of his chest, pulling him back into me as he claimed my mouth again, sliding his hands smoothly up my legs and bunching the fabric of my dress around my naked hips. My body was hot with wanting and I pressed against him, gasping, impatient. He let out a low growl and I felt his body rise in response, his breath coming as quickly as my own under the dappled light of the forest.
