Chronicle of Ages (54 page)

‘But am I not just as much to blame?' Rhun stood, compelled by his belief.

‘Would thee pretend to be a lesser man than thou art, just so that my poor, fame-starved brother dost not have to feel himself inferior?' Bryce rose to confront him. ‘Come on, Rhun … thou art the better warrior, scholar and
friend
, and always have been.'

‘That be the whole point, Bryce,' he stressed. ‘Deep down thou hast always known that I am more than I appear to be.' Rhun clarified his reasoning and Bryce could not argue the fact. ‘I am every bit the deceiver that Blain hast been forced to become,
just
to compete with me. But he aspires to an impossible dream. He never stood a chance of beating me and never will, and yet I encouraged his competition.' His underlying guilt finally surfaced, as tears of remorse built in his eyes. ‘I drove him to this … when I should have had the foresight to see it coming.' Rhun turned away and bracing his hands on his knees, he attempted to compose himself.

‘In that case, we all drove him to this,' Bryce resolved, serenely. ‘The nature of Blain be competition. If the Goddess in her wisdom hast thrown the like of thee into his path, dost it not stand to reason that Blain had a lesson to learn from the encounter? A lesson that I am afraid he hast failed miserably … and that can be no soul's fault but Blain's own.'

As the High King raised himself to a standing position, his guilt left him with the realisation that Bryce had a point. ‘Then I shall make sure that he learns that lesson before he departs this earth.' As Rhun turned
back to Bryce, he was filled with renewed purpose. ‘As be damned if I intend to go through this with him again.'

 

Rhun visited the damp, musky chamber at Arwystli that had once played host to Vanora's conjuring and more recently Selwyn's poisoning, before dealing with the more grievous business he had to attend in the city this night.

All the vile scriptures that Vanora had penned whilst under the influence of the witch, Mahaud, Rhun piled high and then ignited with a torch. Three times in Gwynedd's past the evil crone had reared her ugly head to wreak chaos upon the allied kingdoms. During Mahaud's last reign of terror Javotte had lost her mother, Blain his father, and Rhun had lost his father indirectly. Thus the High King found it difficult to believe that Blain and Javotte would now be utilising the dark forces that had once cost them all so dearly. If they had started dabbling in the occult sciences, chances were it wouldn't be too long before they attempted to conjure entities from the ethers to aid their cause. With less than pure intentions, the type of intelligences Javotte would attract would be like natured. The last thing the motherland needed was another lesser etheric world intelligence running around weaving sinister, supernatural mischief.

Never again
, Rhun decided on the quiet, as he watched the corrupt literature disintegrate in the flames.

He fed the fire with all the potions and strange ingredients that were stored about the room and a thick
smoke from all the parchment billowed forth, making the blaze appear worse than it truly was. As the door on the chamber was designed for keeping people out rather than locking people in, Rhun dropped the wooden barricade into the iron rungs provided on either side of the doorframe, to prevent it being opened from outside.

By now Selwyn would have transported Gareth's wife and child safely home to Caernarvon. The Merlin was then to deliver Cai to the company of his brothers, Owen and Bryce, at Degganwy, where he was to await the High King's return.

That ought to keep the household distracted for a bit.

Rhun looked over his smouldering handiwork before departing the scene of his diversion to seek out this evening's true objective. He knew fate would ensure that his target was alone.

 

Of all the rooms at Arwystli that Blain could have been frequenting this evening, Rhun thought it ironic that he joined the King of Powys in the armoury. He was inspecting the latest batch of broadswords for his army, selecting the finest example to add to the hundreds of weapons that were already displayed around the walls of the massive room.

‘Looking to replace the sword thee left in thy brother?' Rhun queried from some distance away and Blain jumped out of his skin.

‘How did thee get in here?' The King of Powys gripped tight the hilt of the weapon he was inspecting.

‘By means … otherworldly,' Rhun explained in a vexing fashion. ‘The Night Hunter hast sent me to fulfil
my prophecy, Blain. Thee vowed to me that thee would never give me just cause to take thy life, and yet here I am to do just that,' he announced sourly.

‘Well, once thee had voiced thy intent to murder me, it seemed a matter of destroy or be destroyed,' Blain explained, wielding the sword he held as if limbering up to use it.

‘But by attacking the Goddess' appointed —'

‘The Goddess abandoned us along with thy mother,' Blain cut in. ‘Even the High Merlin be of little threat without her. Her Circle of Twelve hast all but dissolved and the council of the Goddess be in ruins —'

‘Elidyr died at Caernarvon, Blain, shortly after thee fled the scene.' Rhun thought he'd best bring the King of Powys up to date on the state of the nation. ‘His kingdom will now be ruled by Urien …'

Blain's eyes shot open wide with the news.

‘… who hast been engaged to the Princess of York. Talorg wast the only man slain at Riderich's battle at Arfderydd, and Bridei now rules in Alban as wast meant. So, contrary to what thee might believe, the council of the Goddess be very much intact.'

Blain silently began to fume; surely it was not possible that Rhun had managed to thwart him on every front. ‘And who shall rule in Dyfed?' he queried to spite his victor.

‘Why, Bryce of course,' Rhun replied, casually.

‘Now I know thou art spinning tales.' Blain pointed the tip of the sword toward the High King in challenge. ‘My brother's wound was absolutely fatal.'

Rhun shook his head appearing amused. ‘Dear Blain, when art thou going to learn that when dealing with the Goddess there art no absolutes. By the power of the elements the great mother hast restored thy brother to health, for his death wast not meant … the same cannot be said for thee, however.'

‘I do not believe thee,' he yelled, as if trying to convince himself.

‘Nay, Blain, I do not believe
thee
!' Rhun moved forward to confront the warrior, who was now appearing decidedly spooked. And even though he was unarmed, Blain backed away from his advance. ‘After losing thy father to Mahaud's madness, thee and thy wife would study her craft?'

‘What?' Blain stopped still and held his ground. ‘I have done no such thing.'

‘Vanora's coven, where Javotte hast slowly been poisoning thy merlin since last I saw thee, be ablaze as we speak!' Rhun enlightened Blain to what he'd discovered. ‘Deny thee knew of it?'

‘I did not.' Blain was dumbfounded. ‘Javotte told me she had sedated the merlin with a tonic, but I did not ask from whence the recipe came.' His voice began to quiver. ‘I have noted a change in Javotte … and me,' Blain confessed and as he looked to Rhun in dread, the sword unexpectedly dropped from his hand.
Am I bewitched?

Blain did not voice his fear but Rhun heard it clear as a bell. ‘Hast Javotte given thee any gifts lately, something that thee might wear?' As Rhun asked, he remembered the talisman tied around Blain's wrist.

Blain was ahead of him, however, and ripping the band from his person, he cast it into the fireplace.

‘Now,' Rhun confronted Blain again, who appeared as if he was awaking from a bad dream, ‘can thee tell me honestly why thou hast made war on me, he who hast been thy life-long friend? Why thou murdered thy brother in cold blood …' Rhun continued to list Blain's offences and the King of Powys became increasingly distressed, full of remorse for his recent deeds.

‘Javotte wanted to be High Queen so desperately.' Blain took a stab at an explanation. ‘I have never seen her so excited as she wast before the election. But when the vote went thy way, she was devastated.' Blain opened his mouth to continue, when the door to the armoury swung open and Javotte came storming in.

Unlike most of the women within the allied kingdoms, Javotte had maintained her warrior form since becoming a mother and Queen and thus had a formidable countenance about her. Her long, wild masses of unruly blonde curls had once softened her appearance, but these days they only added to her fiery presence. Her pale blue eyes had turned steely with scheming and disdain.

‘Someone hast set fire —' Javotte recognised the other man present as Rhun and so immediately identified her mysterious arsonist. ‘It was thee,' she gasped her accusation, wondering how much the High King had disclosed to her husband. ‘What lies hast he been feeding thee?' She approached Blain swiftly to look him in the eye. ‘Thou art not to believe him.'

Blain held up his bare right wrist to enlighten her. ‘Thy command over me hast lessened, I am afraid,' he informed her with great bitterness in his voice.

‘Nay!' She was mortified at having been found out, as she truly adored her husband, but the look of betrayal and disappointment on his face told her that his devotion could never be the same again.

‘Am I not capable of making my own decisions?' Blain entreated her to explain her lack of faith.

‘Nay, that wast not my reason for enchanting thee —'

‘Whatever thy reason,' he spoke up over Javotte, ‘it hast cost us, my dear.' He kissed his wife, which confused and frightened her.

‘Blain?' She gazed up at him concerned, and the High King grabbed hold of her arm, as if taking her into custody.

‘It would seem that thou art the soul truly responsible for this dire stroke against the Goddess,' Rhun concluded, ‘and thy life will atone for her loss just as nicely.'

‘Let go!' Javotte freaked, and looked to her husband as she attempted to break free. ‘Art thou just going to allow him to kill me?'

Blain shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, I love thee too much. Please, Highness,' Blain besought Rhun, going down on both knees before him. ‘If a life must be given, then let it be mine, in accordance with thy word.'

‘Nay!' Javotte changed her tune abruptly, having expected Blain to fight Rhun, not surrender to him. ‘There can be no life for me without thee!'

‘And that shall be thy punishment.' Rhun cast her aside, conforming to Blain's will, resenting Javotte for making him her husband's executioner.

As the Queen of Powys made a move to disrupt the proceedings, misty vapour-like forms began to manifest around her, taunting her into retreat. One of the forms retrieved the sword Blain had intended to run Rhun through with, and carried it forth to the High King's hands.

‘Hast thee any final words.' Rhun's voice began to quiver as he took possession of the weapon, his official demeanour being swept away by personal emotion.

‘The desire to outdo everyone wast present in me long before this election,' he confessed, to take responsibility for his own misdeeds and misguided thoughts, which had only been enhanced by his wife's conjuring. ‘I am sorry for the grief we have caused the Goddess, for deep down I only ever wanted to be pleasing in her eyes, and thine.'

‘And so thou art, Blain,' Rhun's sword hand began to tremble under the duress of his distress. ‘Thy willingness to atone for thy shortcomings be most pleasing to the Great Mother.'

‘Brothers?' Blain questioned hopefully.

‘Forever.' Rhun gave a firm nod to assure Blain.

The ghostly figures held Javotte firmly and so she was forced to witness her beloved executed in her stead. ‘Nay Highness, do not take him from me!' she cried in protest.

‘See thee in the next life, my friend,' assured Rhun, whereby Blain bowed his head low and Rhun brought the sword down to fulfil the prophecy.

 

Still in the grip of the gut-wrenching conclusion, I found myself returned to my meditation chamber, gasping with shock. Rhun had, thankfully, ended his recording just short of the beheading, but the climax had been rather heart stopping all the same.

Now I understood why he hesitated to make Asher privy to the tale, and why Rhun hesitated to encourage his son's competitiveness. This chronicle had also provided a rather interesting insight into young Ragan.

‘The little so and so poisoned me —' which I felt justified in resenting, just a little. I considered it could do her some good to view this chronicle, as she might think twice about manipulating others and I felt sure it would greatly alter her perception of Asher. ‘Could be a little harsh as is,' I mused, observing the orb containing the dark tale I'd just viewed. I would wait and see how the final dress rehearsal for the pageant went before deciding how much of a rude awakening Ragan required at this time.

She had been very professional about her production duties since our run-in, and had apologised to Asher as I'd requested. Outside of their participation in the play, however, Ragan had been giving Asher the cold shoulder, using her commitments to the production as an excuse for avoiding him. On stage, Ragan played up her attraction to her leading man, regarding him as Tory would regard Maelgwn in real life. During each romantic scene the fireworks flew right up until the kiss in the script, whereupon Ragan would skip over it saying they would work it out at the final dress rehearsal. I had to feel for poor Asher, whom I felt sure had only pursued
the lead role in the play so as to steal a kiss from the leading lady. He'd put in a hell of a lot of hard work and reaped very little reward for his efforts. The control Ragan had over her young admirer was disturbing to consider in light of the chronicle I'd just viewed. She still brought out his competitive nature and used his undying devotion to bend him to her will.