Sabrina tossed the grains in the golden bowl over the laughing, shouting crowd. “Let vervain, that which Modron has won for us, be given to all.” She threw sprigs of vervain, and, as each person caught them, they fastened the sprigs onto their clothing.
Sabrina shouted, “Let the Dance of the Wheel begin!”
Four men and four women each took a torch from around the altar and danced toward the unlit bonfire. They touched the torches to the holly and oak wood and the fire blazed up, bathing the crowd in its golden light. And then they all began to sing,
Quiet is the tall fine wood,
Which the whistle of the wind will not stir.
Green is the plumage of the sheltering wood.
Golden are the growing fields.
Good is the warmth of the grass.
Swarms of bees hum in the sunlight.
Fair white birds fly on high. The days are long,
We dance for joy, at Modron’s bounty.
Urien was dancing with his laughing wife around the bonfire. Bledri was partnering young Enid, and Elphin was dancing with Esyllt. Gwydion glanced at Trystan standing beside him. Trystan’s face was tight with anger as he watched Esyllt.
Sabrina came up to where he and Trystan stood and Gwydion opened his mouth to ask her to partner him, forgetting that he hated to dance. But instead, she grabbed Trystan’s hand and drew him into the circle around the fire, giving him no chance to protest.
She was laughing and smiling up into Trystan’s stern face. But though Trystan danced with her, all his attention was on Esyllt, as she danced with Elphin on the other side of the fire. Gwydion looked around and saw March, Esyllt’s husband, taking in Trystan’s scowling face. March smiled sourly to himself and quietly left the grove.
MEANWHILE, MANY LEAGUES away in Prydyn, Rhiannon returned to the cave beneath the waterfall, her hands full of vervain to use in celebrating the festival of Alban Haf. But Gwen was not there.
Rhiannon muttered angrily to herself. No doubt the child was still exploring the caves. She went to the back of the cave, to the fissure through which Gwen would always go exploring. “Gwenhwyfar,” she called. But there was no answer.
For a moment she considered Wind-Riding through the caves in an effort to locate her daughter. But she was tired. She would wait a little longer. She turned to the cold hearth where a fire should have been burning. Shaking her head in exasperation, she lit the fire herself, and began preparing the evening meal.
GWEN FOUND HERSELF in the most beautiful cave she had ever seen. She lifted her torch high, awestruck. The torchlight glittered off crystal-covered walls. It seemed as though the cave itself was on fire. Oh, if only she could bring her mother here to see this. Suddenly, it struck her. It was late. She should have been back by now, but she had lost track of time. Her mother would be angry. Maybe if she ran back the whole way she would get home before her mother did.
Quickly she turned and started to run. Although she had traveled far, she knew her location and ran confidently through the dizzying series of caves, competently skirting the occasional ruts that lay in her path.
But she was running too fast. She tripped over a stone and her torch went flying. She landed heavily, all her breath knocked out of her by her fall. She sat up and tried to get her breath back. Suddenly, she was aware of how dark it was. What had happened to her torch? It must have been extinguished when she fell.
She froze where she sat, trying to orient herself. How far away from home was she? How could she find her way back? When she went exploring she left a trail of tiny white stones in her wake. But without the torch, how could she see them?
If only she knew how to call fire. Psychokinesis was one of her gifts, but she still did not know how to use it. But her other gift was clairvoyance. She could use that gift to Wind-Ride to her mother, and Rhiannon would find her and help her get home.
But the dark pressed in on her so. She tried to be calm. She must be calm, for how else could she Wind-Ride to her mother? How else could she get home if her mother did not find her?
Slowly, she got to her feet. She forced herself to breathe deeply. Calm. She must be calm. And she would be calm—if only she didn’t have the feeling that there were things in the dark that were ready to reach out and grab her, pull her down. Dirt would clog her lungs; she would never breathe the air again. She would die here and hidden horrors would feed on her bones.
Suddenly she began to cry in her panic. “Mam,” she sobbed. “Mam.” Her mother would never find her. She would be trapped here under the Earth forever and ever. The dark would take her and feed on her. She would never get out of here.
She must get home! In panic, she started to run, sobbing as she ran. But she had only run a few yards when the earth crumbled beneath her feet, and she began to fall. She clutched wildly at the air to stop her fall, but it was no use. As she slid down to the bottom of the pit, she screamed in fear and despair. And then the earth covered her and she knew no more.