“Blessed be to Cerridwen and Cerrunnos,” the people responded.
Four of Uthyr’s warrior stepped forward. Each picked up a golden vessel from the altar as Griffi joined Amatheon at the fire of ash. One warrior went to each fire, passing the vessel to each person gathered there. Each man or women reached into the container and pulled out a piece of bread. Some looked at the bread eagerly, some with trepidation. The ones who chose the burned pieces would have to jump through the flames.
Gwydion heard a shout and looked over to see that Greid had chosen the burned piece from the vessel that was passed around the Uthyr’s fire. He held the burned piece aloft, waving his hand and laughing.
Another shout and Gwydion saw that Susanna herself at her own fire had chosen the burned piece from their vessel. She gave a graceful bow to the crowd.
As the bowl came to Arday on Gwydion’s left, he heard more commotion—Duach had picked the burned piece at Amatheon’s fire. The golden-haired doorkeeper held the burned piece aloft, a grin on his cheerful face.
Arday reached into the golden bowl and pulled out a piece of bread, holding it up for all to see that it was unburned, and passing the bowl to Gwydion with a sigh of relief. He reached in and pulled out a piece that he did not need look at to know it was unburned.
He passed the golden bowl to Cai, who reached in and pulled out the burned piece. Laughing, he held it up for all to see.
A hush spread over the crowd. He looked over to Uthyr’s fire and saw Greid take his leap through the flames.
And then it was Susanna’s turn. It was silent in the grove as she leapt through the fire. Everyone cheered and she waved briefly at the crowd.
At Amatheon’s fire Duach lightly jumped through the fire.
Then it was Cai’s turn. Uthyr’s Captain leaped, landing safely on the other side of the flames.
It was in that moment that Gwydion saw figures flicker into being beside each fire. He recognized them, instantly, although he did not understand how he knew them. But the knowledge was there, already in his soul.
The figure by Uthyr’s fire was a woman, her long, black hair held back from her face by a golden tiara sparkling with emeralds. She wore a robe of forest green, trimmed with bands of brown, the color of fresh-turned earth. A cloak of bull hide was fastened to her slim shoulders with golden clasps. He knew it was Arywen, Archdruid to the murdered High King Lleu.
The glowing figure by Susanna’s fire was clothed in a robe of silver trimmed with bands of sea green. He held a golden staff in his hands, and a cloak of white swan feather cascaded down his back, fastened at his broad shoulders with pearl clasps. Patience and wisdom were carved into his calm face. Gwydion knew it was Mannawyddan, Lleu’s Ardewin.
The figure that materialized by Amatheon’s fire had alabaster blond hair and wise eyes of light green. He wore a robe of deep blue, trimmed with bands of white. In his hand he held a golden branch hung with tiny bells, and his cloak was made of the feathers of songbirds—thrushes, sparrows, robins, and bluebirds. He was Taliesin, the Master Bard of Lleu.
The man who flickered into sight by Gwydion’s fire wore a robe of black, trimmed with bands of red. Fiery opals fastened his cloak of raven feather to his shoulders. He had dark hair and eyes of piercing gray—almost silver in the glowing light. And Gwydion knew him. It was Bran, Lleu’s Dreamer; the man who had found Lleu’s body on the shores of Llyn Mwyngil; the man who had engineered the downfall of Lleu’s faithless wife and her lover, sentencing them to a kind of half-death that still had the power to make Gwydion shiver. This was the man who had hidden away Caladfwlch, the High King’s sword, who had closed the High King’s mountain hall so that none could enter there.
Gwydion could tell from the lack of reaction that the people around him did not see the glowing figures. Until his eyes cut to Amatheon and he saw his brother blink in astonishment. He saw, too, that his Uncle Cynan, also Dewin, was staring at these figures with wide eyes.
“Remember.” Bran’s Mind-Speech hammered into Gwydion’s brain. “Remember those who jumped the fires this night.”
“Why are you here?” Gwydion silently asked.
But Bran did not answer him. Or, perhaps, he did give an answer, after a fashion. “Remember the four who leapt the flames. They shall do their part, when the time comes, to ensure the High King’s safety.”
With that the four figures around the fires of earth, water, air, and fire flickered and disappeared. Gwydion’s eyes traveled to Greid, to Susanna, to Duach and to Cai, for these were the four who had jumped the fires.
He would remember.
Calan Llachar—dawn
GWYDION FELT A cool breeze on his face and wondered where he was. He slowly realized that his arms were stretched across the shoulders of two men, one on either side of him. Both men carried torches and the flickering light hurt Gwydion’s eyes. Looking down, he focused on the road beneath his feet, noting with surprise that he appeared to be walking. This didn’t strike him as a good idea, and he came to a sudden stop.