Crimson Fire (41 page)

“And what business do you have with the Queen?” Llwyd asked haughtily.

“Ah, Llwyd Cilcoed,” Gwydion said enthusiastically. “So

very, very good to see you looking so well.” Llwyd opened his mouth, but Gwydion kept going. “No, no. Don’t protest. The extra weight looks good on you.”

Behind Gwydion, Angharad muttered something deroga- tory. It sounded like “smart-ass.” Olwen couldn’t agree more. “What are you doing here?” Llwyd asked again, his face

fl
ushed with anger.

“We’re here to see the Queen, of course. Olwen, we beg a moment of your time.”

“Here I am, Gwydion ap Awst. Make the most of your mo- ment,” she said coolly.

“A moment of your time, alone,” Gwydion elaborated. “Elen, you and Lludd run along now,” Llwyd Cilcoed said

smugly. “The Queen and I will hear what Gwydion has to say.” “No,” Gwydion said gently. “Just the Queen.”

Llwyd
fl
ushed again. He opened his mouth to speak but

stopped abruptly when Olwen lifted her hand. In the sudden silence she studied Gwydion intently.

“Well, Olwen?” Gwydion inquired. “Will you speak with us? Alone?”

She gestured sharply for everyone to leave. Elen stood up with alacrity, took her brother’s arm, and left without a word. Llwyd left more reluctantly, followed closely by Angharad, who closed the door quietly behind her.

“Well?” Olwen asked.

“The Coranians will invade Kymru,” Gwydion said softly. She drew in her breath sharply. “When?”

“I do not know. Soon, I think. A matter of months.” “We must set watchers on the coast, then.”

Gwydion shook his head. “That will be a waste of man

power. We have a much more ef
fi
cient warning system.” “What? Your dreams?” she asked contemptuously. “No. Gorwys.”

“Gorwys? Gorwys of Penllyn? He died over two hundred years ago! How can—” she broke off, understanding now. “How much of a warning will he give?”

“One day only. Now, Dinmael is one of their primary tar- gets. It is imperative that you make plans now for getting as many of your people to safety as possible.”

“You mean run away? Are you mad?”

“Olwen,” he said wearily, “we will lose this battle. I have seen the battle plans. They will land all over your coasts, two thousand men for each of your cantrefs. The largest force, over three thousand men, will come here to Dinmael. I have here a copy of the detailed plans that I will leave with you. But in spite of that information, Ederynion will be overrun. The most important thing is to try to save lives.”

“I won’t run away,” she said
fl
atly. “I will stay and
fi
ght,

and so will my people.”

“Olwen,” Rhiannon said urgently, “your son and daughter, at least—”

“Won’t run away. And that is that. Tell me, Gwydion ap Awst, by chance, have you seen my death in your dreams?”

Gwydion hesitated. “I have.” “Well, that should please you.” “Not especially.”

Her lip curled in disbelief. “I hope you saw that I died

fi
ghting.”

“I did.”

“Good,” she said.

Caer Erias, Llwynarth, Rheged

K
ING
U
RIEN WAS
helping his oldest son, Elphin, and his young- est son, Rhiwallon,
fl
etch arrows under his expert direction. His wife, Ellirri, was bending over young Enid, helping her memorize basic herbal remedies. His second son, Owein, was off in a corner by himself, carving a block of polished wood into the
fi
gure of a hawk. Urien smiled with contentment to have his family around him. He was a lucky man, and he knew it.

Then the door opened abruptly and the Dreamer walked in, followed by a woman he didn’t recognize. “Gwydion!” Urien shouted, enveloping his half-brother-in-law in his customary bear hug. “Where in the name of the gods have you been?”

“Oh, out and about,” Gwydion said vaguely, while Ellirri hugged him tight. “Ellirri, Urien, this is Rhiannon ur Hefeydd.”

Urien whistled. “So, you’re the one who led Gwydion on such a wild chase! But he caught you in the end, eh?”

“And got more than he bargained for,” Rhiannon said dryly. Urien grinned. “I can see that. Sit down, sit down.” He introduced Rhiannon to the children, then settled her by the

fi
re. Ellirri was smiling as she handed around Rheged ale.

“Tell us where you’ve been,” Urien said heartily. “You dropped right off the face of the earth. Couldn’t get a word out of old Dinaswyn. You know how she is.”

“I do,” Gwydion said, then hesitated. “Urien, I must speak with you.”

“Here I am,” he said, grinning.

But Ellirri, apparently seeing something in Gwydion’s face that Urien himself did not, said, “Rhiwallon, go to Sabrina for your astronomy lesson. Enid, it is time for your harp lessons.”

Enid and Rhiwallon left instantly without even bothering to ar- gue, sensing something ominous in their mother’s tone. “Owein, return these arrows to Trystan,” Ellirri continued.

But Owein was not so easily cowed. “You’re going to let Elphin stay, aren’t you?” he
fl
ared. “Then why can’t I?”

“You heard your mam,” Urien said sharply. Without an- other word, Owein left.

“Ellirri,” Gwydion said, “I think Elphin—” “Should stay,” Ellirri
fi
nished
fi
rmly.

“Very well.” Taking Ellirri’s hand, Gwydion said, very gently, “Soon, very soon, the Coranians will invade Kymru.”

Ellirri paled, but made no sound. Elphin stiffened. “You have dreamed this? Are you sure?” Urien asked slowly.

“We have been in Corania. I have seen the plans myself.” “Tell me,” Urien said.

For a moment, Gwydion was silent, his hands still cradling Ellirri’s gently. “They will make landfall all across your coasts, sending over two thousand men to each cantref. I will leave the detailed plans with you. The main force will land on the coast just off Ystrad Marchell and come down Sarn Ermyn, then cut across country to the city. It should take them
fi
ve days to reach Llwynarth. Do you know the story of Gorwys of Penllyn?”

“I do.”

“He will rise from his grave and give us warning. One day only.”

“Very well. Then we march out to meet them when we hear the call.”

“No. Don’t do that,” Gwydion said sharply. “This is a battle that we cannot win. It is imperative that you begin mak- ing plans now to get your people to safety. You and your family

most of all.”

“Ah, Gwydion,” he said, shaking his head, “you are an ex- cellent Dreamer. But you know nothing of ruling the Kymri. I am the King of Rheged. I cannot run away.”

“Your wife and children, at least—” Gwydion began. “No,” Ellirri broke in, her voice low and even. “I stay with

my husband.”

“And I,” Elphin said strongly, “will stay with them.”

“We will make provision for the other three,” Urien said. “Owein will be the hardest to get rid of. But Ellirri will think of something.”

“Urien, you don’t understand—” Gwydion said.

“Oh, I think I do.” He looked down at his wife, sitting so quietly by Gwydion’s side. Her blue eyes looked up at him, full of the love he had seen there for the past twenty-three years. No, she would not leave him. And he would not be able to make her. And he saw by her eyes that she, too, knew what Gwydion could not bring himself to say.

Coed Addien, Rheged

T
HEY STOPPED FOR
the night near a tiny stream some leagues out of the city. He had followed them all afternoon, and was relieved they weren’t going any farther. He didn’t want to cause his mam and da more worry by being away any longer than he had to.

He watched from a distance, safely concealed behind some bushes, as the Dreamer and the Dewin set up camp. Rhiannon gathered wood for a
fi
re, and Gwydion set it alight, conjuring
fi
re in the shape of a huge battle sword. The
fi
ery sword hovered above the pile of wood for a moment, then slashed down, igniting

the logs. Owein swallowed hard. The Dreamer would be a bad man to cross. He hoped Gwydion wouldn’t lose his temper.

Meanwhile, Rhiannon, who apparently had no such fear, was saying, “Do you always have to start a
fi
re this elaborately?” “I do,” Gwydion replied shortly, as he slipped a hunk of

bread onto the end of a stick and held it over the
fi
re. “That’s dinner?” Rhiannon asked incredulously.

“Why not? You said it was my turn to cook. So I’m cooking.” “Maybe we should get Owein to cook for us.”

Still hidden in the bushes—or so he thought—Owein jumped. “Come on out, Owein,” Gwydion called. “Rhiannon wants

you to cook.”

Trembling, but trying to hide it, he stepped out from his place of concealment.

“Can you cook?” Rhiannon asked. “How about making a nice stew?”

Without a word, he took the pot she handed him and be- gan to prepare a stew. It was a good thing he did know how to cook. As the stew simmered, he stole glances at Gwydion and Rhiannon, but whenever he looked at them, they seemed to be looking elsewhere. No one spoke. Rhiannon sewed stitches on a length of green cloth. With a de
fi
ant look at Rhiannon, Gw- ydion made tiny
fl
ames dance above the
fi
re. They twinkled in the night like bursts of sunlight.

“That’s distracting Owein, Gwydion,” Rhiannon said quietly after a while. “He’s trying to cook. And I believe you’ve proven your point.”

With a sigh, Gwydion stopped conjuring
fi
re, then went for

his own sewing kit and began to mend a tear in his cloak.

When the stew was done, Gwydion and Rhiannon ate

heartily. Owein was nervous. He had come all this way to speak to them, and now he couldn’t seem to speak.

“What’s on your mind, Owein?” Gwydion asked
fi
nally.

“I—I want to know what you said to them—to Mam and Da.” “Ask them,” Rhiannon said gently.

“They won’t tell me.”

“Then neither will we,” Gwydion said
fi
rmly.

“You must trust them, Owein,” Rhiannon said, “to know what is best.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Gwydion said easily. “You are galled that Elphin is a part of their magic inner circle. You want to be
fi
rst in their hearts, and you think Elphin holds that place. Elphin, who will have everything that you want. Everything. And what makes it worse is that you love Elphin—almost as much as you hate him.”

“No,” Owein said, looking at the ground. “No, I just—”

“Yes,” Rhiannon said
fi
rmly. “Now, you go back home, and quickly. Ellirri must be worried sick about you. Besides, who in their right mind would spend the night sleeping outside if they could help it?”

“What’s the matter, Rhiannon?” Gwydion said with a grin. “Getting too old to camp out? Getting soft? The brisk night air, a crackling
fi
re—”

“The howl of hungry wolves, the frost—” she snapped back. “A pile of sweet bracken—”

“Stones digging into my back—” “What’s that?” Owein said suddenly. “What’s what?” Gwydion asked.

“I don’t hear—” Rhiannon stopped abruptly as the hunting

horn rang out again.

“Owein, stand next to me,” Gwydion said sharply, reaching for Rhiannon’s hand. They stood together by the glowing
fi
re, straining their eyes into the darkness. The horn sounded again, nearer this time. And with it came the baying of dogs and the sound of horses’ hooves, pounding through the distant
fi
elds.

Suddenly the hounds were there, surrounding them, pant- ing, baying, circling endlessly. Their ghostly white coats glowed in the
fl
ickering camp
fi
re, and the
fl
ames ignited their hungry red eyes.

A white horse burst out of the night. The rider’s chest was bare, and his breeches were made of deerskin. His leather boots were studded with topaz gems. He had the face of a man but the eyes of an owl. Antlers grew from his forehead. The rider grinned with an inhuman grin, a grin to turn the blood cold.

“Cerrunnos,” Gwydion said. “Lord of the Wild Hunt.

Protector of Kymru.”

“Well met, Dreamer,” Cerrunnos answered, his voice like the rushing of the wind through tall pines, like the sound of the chase as it closes in, like the heartbeat of a hunter bringing his quarry to bay.

Another horse, black as midnight, leapt into the clearing. The woman who rode it was slender and lithe. Her black hair cascaded down her back. Her shift was glowing white, the length of the skirt barely reaching her calves. Her boots were leather, studded with amethysts, and she looked down at them with pitiless eyes.

“Cerridwen. Queen of the Wood. Protectress of Kymru,” Gwydion bowed.

“Well met to all of you,” Cerridwen replied, her voice

shimmering like the sound of a string of silvery bells. “To you, Dreamer. To you, Rhiannon ur Hefeydd, and to you, Owein ap Urien var Ellirri, I give greetings.”

“Why have you come?” Gwydion asked.

“The time is short. Death will soon stalk our land,” Cerunnos said. “We come to tell you, Gwydion ap Awst, of your next task.”

“The sword of the High Kings waits in Cadair Idris. And he whose hand will grasp it is safe, for now,” Cerridwen said. “And now you prepare Kymru to bear her wounds. All this is as it must be. I charge you now, that when you see us again you will begin the next task. The task to gather the others you have dreamed of, so that the four of you can seek the Treasures, that the High King may take his place and regain what will soon be lost. Be ready, Rhiannon ur Hefeydd, for you are one of these four.”

“I will be ready,” Rhiannon said steadily.

“And to you, Owein ap Urien, we give warning,” Cerunnos said, his topaz eyes shining. “Be careful of what you wish for, boy. For you shall surely get it.”

And with that, they were gone.

Caer Tir, Arberth, Prydyn