Night Birds' Reign(6)

“Too soon? Twenty years?”

“A blink of the eye for the Shining Ones. You know that.”

“Amatheon, that’s not the point,” Gwydion said impatiently, waving away his brother’s comment. “The point is that the dreams are my responsibility now. Mine to interpret.”

“And?” Amatheon pressed.

“And nothing,” Gwydion muttered.

“And you might get them wrong, is that it? You might make a mistake. And if you do, what happens?”

Gwydion hesitated, then said in a rush, “Then I fail. And I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Gwydion repeated, shocked.

“Yes. What’s so terrible about failing? People do it all the time and the world goes on turning. They pick themselves up and try again. Why should you be different?”

“Because I’m the Dreamer, Amatheon,” Gwydion said quietly. “The Shining Ones have sent me a dream. I have tasks to perform . . . things I must do, and do right.”

“Ah. So, lesser mortals can make mistakes?” Amatheon asked lightly. “But not you—you aren’t allowed.”

“I am one of the Great Ones now,” Gwydion said, staring into the fire. “I take my place with the Master Bard, with the Ardewin, with the Archdruid. Soon a High King will come and I will do all I can to protect him from whatever threatens him. In that—and in any other tasks the Shining Ones give me—I cannot fail.”

“What else is wrong?” Amatheon asked quietly. “That’s not all of it.”

Again the silence descended over them both as Gwydion left his brother’s question unanswered. “The torque becomes you,” Amatheon said at last.

“She didn’t want to give it up,” Gwydion replied. After a pause he went on, “They never do want to do the things they should.”

“They?”

“Women.” Silence again.

“It was a difficult thing for Aunt Dinaswyn to do. You know that. She had been Dreamer for many years. She never had anything else. Or anyone.”

More silence. Amatheon sighed and began again. “Arianrod was angry with you. But, as you say, she’ll take you back to her bed.”

Gwydion’s eyes brightened with amusement. “Did you think that was bothering me?”

“No,” Amatheon said quietly. “I don’t think anything Arianrod does would bother you. You would have to care about her first.”

Gwydion sighed. “I give her what I can.”

“No. You give her what you want to. Nothing more.”

“And you think it should be more?” Gwydion asked.

“No.” Amatheon said promptly, “I don’t. Not with her. She will only take and take, and then take some more.”

“You don’t make sense. First you seem to tell me that I should love her, and then you say that I shouldn’t. Is there a purpose to this, or are you just bored?”

“I only want to point out that it’s your habit. You judge all women by just a few. Arianrod is selfish and demanding. But all women are not like that. And Mam—”

“No.” Gwydion cut him off, eyes blazing. “I will not discuss Mam with you.”

“If you can’t talk about her with me, then with who?”

“Not with anyone.”

“Gwydion . . .”

“I said no. You weren’t there. You didn’t see. I . . . I can’t.” Again the silence, the wall, back higher and stronger than ever. Gwydion went back to staring at the fire.

Amatheon looked up at the stars, silently asking for patience. A few could be seen, but the trees around the clearing obscured most of them. Amatheon took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Come. Let’s Wind-Ride.”

After a momentary hesitation, Gwydion grasped his brother’s hand. “Where do you want to go?”

“I just want to get a good look at the sky. Follow me. With that, both men closed their eyes. Their breathing slowed until their chests barely moved. And when they were ready, a portion of their awareness leapt from their bodies, and soared up into the night sky.

As they flew upward, leaving their bodies sitting by the fire, Amatheon Wind-Spoke to Gwydion, his words echoing in his brother’s mind, “You see that? It is the constellation of Llyr the Great who first brought us into this land. And there, not far off, the constellation of Penduran reaching her arms out to Llyr. It was these two who saved a remnant of the Kymri when Lyonesse sank beneath the sea. These two, in partnership, taught their children well. And these children became the leaders of the next generation—the Dreamer who guides Kymru, the Ardewin who leads our clairvoyants, the Master Bard who heads our telepaths, the Archdruid who rules our psychokinetics. Without Llyr and Penduran, the Kymri would have perished.”