Gambit of the Glass Crowns: Vol. I of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy (37 page)

Gawain knocked on the door.

After a brief silence, Ceridwen called to him. “Dáire, please come in.”

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of Rhiannon’s house. Once he could see, he went to Ceridwen, who stood near Rhiannon’s bed.

“You sent for me, my Lady.” He bowed to them both, uncertain how long he should keep his head down.

“Please sit, Dáire,” Rhiannon spoke quietly and gently.

He sat down on the small stool in front of the bed.

“First, I want to extend my greatest sympathies for the loss of your mother, Eithne. She will be greatly missed by all those in Arlais.”

“I thank you, Lady,” Gawain kept his response as short as possible to keep his emotions from emerging.

“Do not be afraid to cry,” Rhiannon’s voice sounded soft as a summer rain hitting the wing of a bird. “There is no shame in tears.”

“I do not consider tears shameful,” he said. “I worry though that should I cry, I would not be able to stop myself for some time, and I am anxious to hear why you have sent for me.”

Rhiannon cocked her head to the side as she lowered her chin. “I shall speak no more of your mother.”

“Dáire.” Ceridwen sat down as well. “I have spoken with the Lady Rhiannon of what you told me you saw…‌who you met.”

“Blodueyn?”

“Yes,” said Rhiannon. “I knew of your arrival for some time. It was not until hearing from Ceridwen of your encounter that I was certain as to the reason for you coming to Arlais. Dáire, you are most important in the coming times.”

“My Lady?”

“A special star has shone down upon you. You are of Hume and Meïnir heritage, you can speak of both. You have been chosen by the Goddess.”

“Chosen?” Gawain did not understand.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Ceridwen opened the door and another woman walked into the room carrying a tray. She was dressed in the robes of a priestess, but they were dyed a deep, rusty red instead of the dark blue robes Ceridwen wore. The priestess set a tray on the table, and the room filled with the scent of peppermint.

“Thank you, Aife,” said Rhiannon.

She bowed her head to the high priestess, not looking at Gawain. He could not determine if she averted her eyes because he was a man or an outsider. He decided it had to be a combination of both.

She unfolded a cloth packet with one hand and lifted a small paring knife with the other. From the cloth, she took a twig in her hand. She ran the paring knife’s blade across the stick, and small powdery flecks fell onto the buttered bread. A sweet, spicy scent filled his nostrils.

“Cinnamon,” Ceridwen’s voice caught him by surprise. She answered his thoughts without him even having to ask.

He lifted his chin in acknowledgment. He had heard the name before. A small chest was once given to his father as tribute from Niseport to assure an open trade passage. Cinnamon and myrrh were some of the most prized items in the trove. He had not realized at the time, but his father told him later the spices were worth more than their weight in gold. And yet they seemed to have such spices in Arlais, and in such plentiful supply they were used for everyday meals.

Aife finished sprinkling the cinnamon and tucked it back into the cloth, leaving it on the tray. She poured a steamy drink, tea he assumed, into the three cups on the platter.

She then bowed her head again before leaving the dwelling, all of which without saying a single word.

Gawain waited for Ceridwen to offer him a cup. Though his throat and mouth felt like sand, he did not dare offend the high priestess or Ceridwen by drinking first.

“Your coming has been foretold long ago.” Rhiannon continued where she left off, as though Aife had not come and gone. “You are to be Her champion, to lead our people in battle.”

“Arlais will take part in the war?” He took a sip of his drink only to find it was not tea at all, but a black mead. Honey wine fermented with black currants, laden with herbs he could not name.

“We of Arlais do not draw blood,” Rhiannon explained, “even in times as dire as these. Cynan alone is granted the ability to kill‌—‌and only to protect me. That is why you have come here. You will gather people who follow the Old Ways to stand against the Hume oppressors that will destroy this land if left unchallenged.”

“But the armsmen I saw‌—”

“They have not taken vows,” Ceridwen said.

“So they can take a life?”

“If need be.” She glanced at Rhiannon. “Only as a last resort, however.”

“Annwyd…”

Ceridwen nodded.

“The king of Annwyd is a dangerous man. He is not the one I fear most, however.” Rhiannon’s voice cracked.

“My Lady?”

“His son, Madoc, lies in wait like a serpent waiting to strike. I have seen him in my dreams. He will take the first opportunity allotted to him to gain power.”

Gawain thought back to his conversation with Blodeuyn and her words echoed in his mind. Surely this was the decision he must make to spare the lives of many.

“The fate of our people rests solely with you.” Rhiannon grasped his hand and Gawain nearly fell off the stool. “You must not refuse.”

“But I‌—”

“There is yet another reason for you to accept this task,” Ceridwen interrupted him.

“The boy, Connor, his affliction will be the death of him,” Rhiannon’s words were cold and precise. “However, there is light even in the darkest of nights.”

Gawain’s jaw went slack as his heart jumped into this throat.

“Your journey will take you near the borders of Glyndwr. If you are swift in your actions, you may traverse the Forest of Reibios and reach their dead city. Only there do the answers to Connor’s curse lie.”

“What do you wish of me?” Without hesitation, Gawain felt as though he put ink to paper, sealing his fate.

“Travel north, through the Gabraëth Moutains to Eurig.”

“To the halls of the Duamor King?”

“It is imperative they join our cause. Lady Heid Ivatholl will be one of our greatest allies.”

“What if she refuses?”

“She must not.”

Rhiannon signaled to Ceridwen, who then retrieved Gawain’s sword from across the room. She also lifted a heavy, magnificently crafted shield from a nearby chest. Clearly, she was much stronger than she appeared.

“It is a gift for the Goddess’ champion,” Rhiannon said.

Gawain stood and accepted the shield from Ceridwen, amazed at how light it felt. Its silvery sheen glimmered in the light of the fire. The sigil etched into the shield was an oak tree with two flowers on either top corner. Violets, if he knew right.

“Take it with you when you leave tonight and know that it will protect you in battle when other shields cannot.”

“Tonight, my Lady?”

“Could he not stay but a few more nights, until after the festival?” Ceridwen asked, able to read the disappointment on his face.

“He must leave as soon as possible. There is no time to waste.”

Gawain bowed to Rhiannon. “I will leave this night, my Lady.”

“Travel west until you reach the Astellan Ea. From there, you can travel north to Eurig.”

“It would be faster to simply travel northwest from Arlais, my Lady.”

“No, you must avoid the Vega Outpost at all cost.”

He did not know why her voice took on a tone of such urgency, but he knew he was in no place to question the Arlaïn high priestess. “Very well, I will do as you command.”

“Ceridwen will show you to the edge of the forest.”

Gawain’s heart sank as he followed her out of Rhiannon’s house. He would not be able to see Connor in Arlais after all.