four round windows that pierced the tower walls. Onyx and blood- stone gleamed from the fl oor as he crossed over to the pallet.
He discarded his robe and lay down, his hands behind his head, eyeing the constellations that glittered through the glass roof of the chamber. His eyes picked out the constellation of Ar- derydd, the High Eagle, the sign of the High Kings of Kymru. He thought of young Arthur, safe for the moment, in the tiny mountain village of Dinas Emrys. He wondered again what terrible thing the future had in store that a new High King had been born to combat it. He knew that it would be revealed to him in time, and he hoped with all his heart that he would be able to meet whatever challenge was in store.
Still looking up at the stars, he recited the Dreamer’s prayer: “Annwyn with me laying down, Aertan with me sleeping. The white flame of Nantsovelta in my soul,
The mantle of Modron about my shoulders,
The protection of Taran over me, taking my hand, And in my heart, the fire of Mabon.
If malice should threaten my life
Then the Shining Ones between me and evil. From tonight till a year from tonight,
And this very night, And forever,
And for eternity. Awen.”
And then he slept, as the waning moon bathed him in its dying, silvery beams.
H E WAS STANDING at the crossroads. On either side of the road, tall grass stretched to the horizon as far as he could see. Wind rippled the grass, creating patterns that lay just beyond the edge of understanding. Around and around the wind played, draw- ing shapes that constantly fl ickered and vanished, shifting over and over across the plain.
Storm clouds hovered, piled high in the darkening sky. The threatening black and purple clouds were laced with fl ashes of lightning. But there was no rain. And no sound other than the wind whipping mercilessly past him as he stood at the cross- roads, unable to go on.
It was here that the road parted. The road leading to the right stretched out to the horizon, shining with a warm, steady glow in the fl ickering light of the gathering storm. Wide and straight, it was a safe path, the one he wanted to take. The one he would have taken, if he could only move. But, somehow, the decision was not his to make.
He glanced at the left-hand road and shuddered. It twisted horribly as it made its sluggish way across the plain, like a dy- ing serpent. It was full of shadows that stretched across the road like greedy fi ngers. The road led into a tunnel of darkness unimaginable. It frightened him to think of what was waiting in that dark tunnel in the middle of the plain. If only he could move, he would run like the wind up the glowing right road, run far away from this terrible crossroads and from this terrible choice that was not his to make.
Then he became aware that there were others waiting at
the crossroads. People began to emerge from the tall, waving grass and step reluctantly onto the road, pulled there against their will by a force they could not break.
He saw Uthyr and Ygraine with their daughter, young Morrigan, followed closely by Cai, Gwynedd’s Captain. He saw Queen Olwen of Ederynion put a protective arm around the slim shoulders of her daughter, Elen, and ignoring her son, Lludd, while Angharad, Ederynion’s Captain guarded them all. He saw Urien, the King of Rheged, with his wife and four children clustered around him, followed by Rheged’s Captain, Trystan. He saw King Rhoram of Prydyn with his son, Geriant, and daughter, Sanon, shadowed by Achren, Prydyn’s Captain.
More and more people were stepping onto the road behind him, all waiting silently to travel the road they were destined to take. Dinaswyn and Arianrod appeared, their hands linked by a silver chain Arianrod was struggling to break. Cathbad, the Archdruid, his expression serious and thoughtful, stepped onto the road, followed by Aergol, his heir, whose face was carefully expressionless.
He saw Anieron, the Master Bard, step from the tall grass
He discarded his robe and lay down, his hands behind his head, eyeing the constellations that glittered through the glass roof of the chamber. His eyes picked out the constellation of Ar- derydd, the High Eagle, the sign of the High Kings of Kymru. He thought of young Arthur, safe for the moment, in the tiny mountain village of Dinas Emrys. He wondered again what terrible thing the future had in store that a new High King had been born to combat it. He knew that it would be revealed to him in time, and he hoped with all his heart that he would be able to meet whatever challenge was in store.
Still looking up at the stars, he recited the Dreamer’s prayer: “Annwyn with me laying down, Aertan with me sleeping. The white flame of Nantsovelta in my soul,
The mantle of Modron about my shoulders,
The protection of Taran over me, taking my hand, And in my heart, the fire of Mabon.
If malice should threaten my life
Then the Shining Ones between me and evil. From tonight till a year from tonight,
And this very night, And forever,
And for eternity. Awen.”
And then he slept, as the waning moon bathed him in its dying, silvery beams.
H E WAS STANDING at the crossroads. On either side of the road, tall grass stretched to the horizon as far as he could see. Wind rippled the grass, creating patterns that lay just beyond the edge of understanding. Around and around the wind played, draw- ing shapes that constantly fl ickered and vanished, shifting over and over across the plain.
Storm clouds hovered, piled high in the darkening sky. The threatening black and purple clouds were laced with fl ashes of lightning. But there was no rain. And no sound other than the wind whipping mercilessly past him as he stood at the cross- roads, unable to go on.
It was here that the road parted. The road leading to the right stretched out to the horizon, shining with a warm, steady glow in the fl ickering light of the gathering storm. Wide and straight, it was a safe path, the one he wanted to take. The one he would have taken, if he could only move. But, somehow, the decision was not his to make.
He glanced at the left-hand road and shuddered. It twisted horribly as it made its sluggish way across the plain, like a dy- ing serpent. It was full of shadows that stretched across the road like greedy fi ngers. The road led into a tunnel of darkness unimaginable. It frightened him to think of what was waiting in that dark tunnel in the middle of the plain. If only he could move, he would run like the wind up the glowing right road, run far away from this terrible crossroads and from this terrible choice that was not his to make.
Then he became aware that there were others waiting at
the crossroads. People began to emerge from the tall, waving grass and step reluctantly onto the road, pulled there against their will by a force they could not break.
He saw Uthyr and Ygraine with their daughter, young Morrigan, followed closely by Cai, Gwynedd’s Captain. He saw Queen Olwen of Ederynion put a protective arm around the slim shoulders of her daughter, Elen, and ignoring her son, Lludd, while Angharad, Ederynion’s Captain guarded them all. He saw Urien, the King of Rheged, with his wife and four children clustered around him, followed by Rheged’s Captain, Trystan. He saw King Rhoram of Prydyn with his son, Geriant, and daughter, Sanon, shadowed by Achren, Prydyn’s Captain.
More and more people were stepping onto the road behind him, all waiting silently to travel the road they were destined to take. Dinaswyn and Arianrod appeared, their hands linked by a silver chain Arianrod was struggling to break. Cathbad, the Archdruid, his expression serious and thoughtful, stepped onto the road, followed by Aergol, his heir, whose face was carefully expressionless.
He saw Anieron, the Master Bard, step from the tall grass
Similar Books
