RHIANNON WAS TRULY worried now. Gwen should have been back long ago. She lit one of the torches and made her way back to the fissure. On an impulse she grabbed a length of rope. Taking a deep breath, she ventured into the heart of the earth.
As she walked the torchlight played on the walls, chasing the shadows round and round. She called out Gwen’s name, but could hear only echoes.
Gwen had told her once that she never got lost, because she always marked her way with tiny white stones she carried in her pocket. Rhiannon followed the stones that were laid out on the floor every few feet through the bevy of caves.
“Gwen,” she called again. “Gwen, Gwen,” the echoes mocked her. Cautiously, she made her way around a pit in the cave floor and continued on her way.
And then she heard it. She stopped where she was and listened. There it was again. A sob. Weirdly distorted by the echoes she could not tell where it was coming from. She went on, following the stones. And the sound came closer. “Gwen,” she called again. Quickly now she followed the sound until she came to another pit. Sinking to the ground beside it, she lowered her torch. And saw her daughter’s beloved, dirt-streaked face far below.
“Mam, Mam,” Gwen sobbed, extending her arms for her mother.
“Yes, yes. I’m here,” she said in her most soothing tones. “Hush, little one. I’ll soon have you out.”
She worked quickly; tying the rope around a tall, heavy stone, testing to be sure the stone would bear the weight. She threw the other end of the rope down to her daughter. “Tie this around you, under your arms.”
Still sobbing, Gwen did as she was told, and Rhiannon pulled hard at the rope. Hand over hand she pulled her daughter up from the pit. At last, Gwen was out. Rhiannon held her as Gwen sobbed hysterically.
“I fell. The torch went out. And I couldn’t find the way. So I ran and I fell into the pit. And the dirt covered me and I couldn’t breathe. And I clawed my way out until I could breathe, but I couldn’t get out of the pit. I thought I would die there. I thought you would never come.”
Rhiannon held Gwen and gently stroked her hair. “All right, little one. It’s all right. I’m here now.” She helped Gwen to her feet, untied the rope, and grabbed the torch. “Let’s get back home. We’ll clean you up and eat, and you’ll feel better.”
They slowly made their way back through the caves, Gwen holding tightly to her mother’s hand. “And next time you go exploring you’ll take two torches, just in case.” Rhiannon said soothingly. “It won’t happen again.”
“No,” Gwen sobbed. “Never again, because I’ll never come back. I won’t ever be trapped again.”
“Gwen, you love the caves!”
“No,” Gwen repeated. “Never, never again.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dinmael Kingdom of Ederynion, Kymru Cerdinen Mis, 494
Meirgdydd, Lleihau Wythnos—early afternoon
Gwydion stayed in Rheged for another three weeks, spending his time with Urien and Ellirri and their children. He had never been a part of a happy family before, and he found himself fascinated. He sat with them in the evenings as Elphin helped Rhiwallon make a new bow; as Queen Ellirri assisted Enid in stitching a new dress; as Owein carved tiny wooden stags and boars and horses for gifts that he presented to his family. One evening Owein even carved a raven, the symbol of the Dreamers, and gave it to Gwydion.
At last he forced himself to leave and resumed his journey, traveling north. When he passed into Ederynion the landscape changed. Ederynion was a country of forests and sea and fog. The kingdom produced paper from those extensive forests, prized throughout Kymru for its fineness. But more importantly, Ederynion was known for its beautiful glass works. The sandy beaches provided the fine sand to make glass goblets and beakers, glass windows, and delicate glass bottles for perfume.
As he rode he often mused on just what kind of reception he could expect in Dinmael, the Queen’s capital. Years ago he and Olwen had met at the graduation ceremonies at Neuadd Gorsedd. Olwen had been there to represent her father. Gwydion had been finishing up his studies at the college, preparing to journey back to Caer Dathyl to continue under Dinaswyn’s tutelage. The two had become lovers. He recalled that Olwen had been insatiable, a passionate and stirring bedroom partner.
It had been a glorious few days. But that was all it had been. She had actually expected him to return with her to Ederynion. But he was destined to be the Dreamer, and, while he would have been pleased to continue as Olwen’s sometime lover, he refused to go with her. Olwen had been used to having her own way in all things and they had parted badly. But that had been almost twenty years ago. It astonished him that she could hold on to a grudge for so long. You almost had to admire such tenacity, he thought.