Page 15 of The Daughters of Avalon
Betimes, a bit ofmajiklingered there, in the last drops of beguiled liquid; but today there was none. The long night had rendered the contents powder dry, leaving only a trace of ash to reveal the herbs they had burned. Alas, she didn’t need a scrying stone or spells to know that, for better or worse, today was the day their lives began to diverge.
Holding tight to her emotions, keeping her back to her sisters, Rhiannon was afraid they would glimpse what she loathed to tell them. Life was so much like a spider’s web—so many threads flowing from its center, all leading to destinations unknown and the slightest deviation had the potential to place them at very wide berths.
But her sisters’ destinies were not hers, and as similar as they might be, having spent nearly every waking moment together, not a one of them had the same fire burning in their soul.
Rhiannon wantednothingas much as she wanted revenge—for the grandmothershe’d never known, and for the twin she’d mourned inside her mother’s womb. Elspeth carried a torch for justice. Seren wanted peace. Rose and Arwyn longed for things they might never see. But, at least this was still true: Wherever Elspeth was going now, her future would be her own to choose. The same could not be said for the rest of her siblings. Her careless spell had changed their fates.
And yet, had she known… if she had but suspected the outcome… she would have done it all the same all over again. Rhiannon was wise enough to know that Elspeth’s cause was the most noble of them all. Wales itself could be lost if she did not pursue her crusade for their sister Matilda.
Goddess save them if Stephen’s son took that throne. Darkness would descend upon this land… a darkness unlike even the one that had dimmed the grace of Avalon.
It was a long, long moment before Arwyn finally breached the silence, inquiring about Elspeth. “Do you know where she is going?”
Too easily, Rhiannon lied with a shake of her head, even as she loathed herself for doing it. By the cauldron, it was said that lies were like steps descending into darkness, and that even when they were well-intentioned, they had the ill effect of spreading gloom.
But this was also true: Of all her siblings—Elspeth included—Rhiannon was the only one who could hope to defeat Morwen. It was safer if her sisters did not know where Elspeth was going. Morwen would too easily read everything their tongues refused to speak. As lovely as her sisters might be, they were equally as guileless.
“Fear not,” she said, at last. “Our Goddess sent her a champion.”
“Hmm,” said Seren, furrowing her brow, but she said nothing more, perhaps guessing at the truth—that Rhiannon had summoned this man herself, not the Goddess, at least not without intervention. Alas, it was impossible to say what might come from wresting the lord of Aldergh away from his chosen path… or whether the effect of it would be good or bad.
Rose worried her hands. “Did you note the direction they were traveling? We’ll want to know so we can follow.”
“East,” lied Rhiannon, though it wasn’t entirely a lie, for whilst she did know which direction they were headed, and she also knew the name of the man who was bound to her, Elspeth’s true destination was unknown even to Rhiannon. So much now depended on the decisions her sister made. Free will was a gift of the one true God and even her own future was foreseeable only in glimpses. Any new path taken, or any new decision made—like that spider’s web—could steal her away to an entirely new destiny.
Yesterday, she’d a very good plan to get her sisters away from this priory. Today, that plan was no more viable than it had been for Elspeth to remain. And yet, Rhiannon had no regrets. This way, at least she knew her sister had a champion to defend her.
“I miss her already,” lamented Seren.
“Me too,” confessed Rhiannon, as she reached down to smooth her callused fingertips over the cold, hard rim of the kettle. She had a terrible feeling that she would missallher sisters every day for the rest of her life…
“Does she know… what you did?”
“The sleep spell?” Rhiannon shrugged, and shook her head. “Not yet.” Though neither did her sisters realize the full scope of what she had done. All they knew was that Rhiannon had cast a wee spell to settle Elspeth’s nerves. But that spell was notthe spell that changed their lives. By wresting one man from his chosen path, she had, in truth, changed her own fate entirely, because she had been wrong. The new lord of Blackwood didn’t care whatsoever who warmed his bed.
“You did the right thing,” reasoned Seren, mistaking Rhiannon’s distress.
Arwyn agreed. “It was for her own good, Rhiannon. She’s too prone to worry.”
“So now what?” asked Seren.
A tear slipped past Rhiannon’s lashes as she realized her sisters were looking to her for direction. But, of course they would… as they had once looked to Elspeth.
Alas, though Elspeth’s skills were no match for Rhiannon’s, Elspeth had something else Rhiannon did not possess, a pure heart, and an unwavering sense of loyalty. That’s why, after all these years, her sister could not abandon her crusade for Matilda. Though it was also precisely why she would have been compelled to return. Even now Rhiannon felt a tempest turning inside her. And, Elspeth, her one true anchor, was moving further and further away with every clip-clop of that horse’s hooves. No matter that she could no longer hear Elspeth speaking to her, she could still hear that sound, like drums beating in her head.
Clip. Clop. Clip, clop. Clip, clop.
Putting her hands to her ears and glaring down at the long-spent embers below the kettle, she considered the hatred she felt for her lady mother and watched the white coals turn slowly red…
Morwen was a heartless demon, without an ounce of regret for all the horrors she had committed.Death.Terror.Fear. These were all the things her mother reveled in, and the worst of her sins were as yet unknown to her sisters. There was nothing of the Maiden or Mother left in Morwen; she was the Death Crone,and her darkness had begun to eat away at her from the inside out.
In order to keep her spell of glamour, she would continue to sacrifice innocents. She’d struck herself a bargain with the Crone, but she was, indeed, worse than Cerridwen ever was, and the fallout from her treachery would be far worse than the vanishing of an Island or its people. She would drag England itself into oblivion… along with Wales and Scotia, and any lands or persons that came under Stephen’s rule. And whilst theirkingmight respect and even love his portly wife, few ever had the power to resist Morwen’s wiles. After all, it was Morwen who’d planted the seed of greed into Stephen’s silly little head. She had been using her Craft from the beginning. And once she’d realized Henry had learned to resist her wiles, she moved on to Stephen, turning Stephen’s heart against the uncle he’d loved so well, convincing him that he must betray his blood for honor and justice. But he was not lost… not yet… And yet, if Eustace ever rose to power, with Morwen by his side, England as they knew it would be lost… forever. Therefore, Elspethmustchampion their sister. She must win her champion to her side, and she must find a way to return Matilda to the throne.
As for Rhiannon… she would destroy their mother.
Fueled by so much hatred, and despite the lack of proper kindling, the fire lit beneath the kettle, bursting up and around the course black belly.
Seren gasped, leaping up from her chair. She rushed to grab an armful of kindling. “Rhiannon, nay! You mustn’t do such things!”
