Night Birds' Reign(23)

Leaving Elise to his meal, Gwydion began to gather wood for the fire, digging a shallow pit with his small shovel and resuming his interrupted musing.

He did not want to go back to Tegeingl and do what he must do now. But there was no way to avoid it. He had not been to his brother’s city for four years, since the year Arthurs was born. Over and over he had avoided Uthyr’s invitations to return, citing excuse after excuse. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Uthyr. It was simply that he could not bear to look on Uthyr’s beloved face, knowing what he knew about Uthyr’s son, and not yet being prepared to speak of it.

He had even avoided returning to Tegeingl two years ago, when his niece had been born. He had been told that tiny Morrigan was a replica of her mother, but that she had her father’s smile and easy charm.

Yet now he had to return whether he liked it or not. Because, in just four days time, young Arthur ap Uthyr would undergo the Plentyn Prawf, the test given to all children of Kymru to determine if they had the gifts. The test would be public, and, unless Gwydion’s plan worked, all of Kymru would discover that Arthur was destined to be High King. And that was something that had to be avoided for now, no matter what the cost. The child’s safety still lay in anonymity.

The words of Cerrunnos hammered in his brain as he continued to set up camp for the night. “There are traitors among the Kymri,” the Lord of the Hunt had said. “Remember that those you can trust are few.”

But that, of course, was something Gwydion had always known. There were very few people he trusted, in any case.

He knew it would have been better, safer if he had taken Arthur away the day of his birth. But he had found it impossible to do so. He could not have deprived his brother of his firstborn son—not then. The time would come, and it would be soon, when he would have to do just that. He could not wait much longer. He must hide Arthur away soon and do what he could to ensure that the trail grew cold as quickly as possible.

The wood laid, he stood back for a moment and passed his hand over the pit. The shape of a lion, glowing golden in the solitary clearing seemed to leap from the ground at Gwydion’s feet and fall hungrily onto the wood, setting it aflame. Elise looked over curiously but did not stop nibbling at his dinner. The horse could not be startled with the shapes Gwydion chose to light the fire any more—he was far too used to it by now.

Gwydion smiled tightly. Once again he had proven to himself that the great Dreamer was not afraid of fire. Of course he was the only one to prove it to at the moment. But it was best to stay in practice. For it would be unthinkable for the Dreamer, whose element was fire, to be afraid of it. Unthinkable.

The reddish gold of the crackling fire reminded him of his own little daughter, Cariadas, for her hair was exactly that shade. He smiled again, a true smile this time, at the thought of his tiny, perfect little girl. Although he had suffered much to get her, he was glad now that he had paid the price. As he stared into the fire, he thought on how it had all begun.

He remembered well that day two years ago when Dinaswyn had come to the conclusion it was time for him to pass on his seed. She had consulted the Book of the Blood and given Gwydion a choice—go to Rheged to mate with Eurgain, the sister of King Urien or to Prydyn to mate with Isalyn, the sister of King Rhoram. Either one would do, she had said coolly.

He had not even mentioned to Dinaswyn that directing the mating of the Children of Llyr was his task now. It had been difficult for Dinaswyn to give up the position of Dreamer so soon—much sooner than either one of them had anticipated.

Although he was occasionally irritated by her refusal to surrender her authority, he did not demand that she do so. He wasn’t cruel enough to humiliate her like that.

So he had let it go, and chosen to go to Isalyn in Prydyn, for no other reason than that he had business to take care of there. And the business was of an unsettling nature. His cousin, Rhiannon ur Hefeydd, had been sent to Prydyn by Dinaswyn two years before to bear the child of King Rhoram. After that task was completed, Rhiannon was to return to Y Ty Dewin to begin training with Myrrdin as the next Ardewin of Kymru.

Rhiannon had gone to Prydyn as ordered; had the child as expected; and then had simply broken all the rules by falling in love with Rhoram and refusing to leave him. And King Rhoram, equally besotted, had let her stay; treating her as if she was his Queen—who she most emphatically was not, and never could be. For Rhiannon was a woman of the House of Llyr and one of the Y Dawnus. Her refusal to return to Y Ty Dewin had constituted a major crisis.

And for this, for Rhiannon’s refusal to do her duty to her House, Gwydion had determined to go to Prydyn and shake her until her teeth rattled. If necessary he would drag her back to Y Ty Dewin himself, in spite of Rhoram’s warriors.