Page 220 of The Daughters of Avalon
“God’s teeth,” exclaimed Edmund, bringing his mount forward to advise Rosalynde. “She has an army of mercenaries.”
“Nay…” Rosalynde said. “They are not mercenaries.”
She swallowed convulsively, recognizing the sigil. She had never once laid eyes upon that seal in person—at least never emblazoned upon armor—but Rhiannon had illustrated it so oft that the image was etched upon her mind. It was also writ upon many of the pages in thegrimoire.
“Those… are…”
Elspeth shook her head quickly, warning Rosalynde without words to remain silent, because these were no common soldiers. No matter that their husbands had accepted them and their legacy, most men were still unprepared to know theirdewinesecrets. Loyal steward though he might be, Edmund was but a simple man who’d served the old Lord of Warkworth—a mortal man with mortal expectations. He was unprepared for the truth. Sweet fates, neither Rosalynde nor Elspeth were prepared themselves. But there was no denying what their eyes revealed… these men they would face wore the sigil of the House of Avalon—the twin golden serpents entwined about the stem of a winged chalice… the sacred cauldron some would call the Holy Grail.
But how… how was this possible?
Avalon, andallits denizens was long vanished from this realm. Now, who was Morwen Pendragon to claim them?
The question sent a frisson of fear down Rosalynde’s spine. Elspeth’s, too. Their bellflower gazes mirrored the same questions. The answers brought a new fear: Clearly, there wasmuch they did not know about their mother. She had forces beyond their knowing at her beck and call. And nevertheless, her eldest sister remained stoic, prepared to do battle for the return of her son.
So, too, was Rosalynde.
It would serve no one for either of them to fall to their knees in despair. But what now? She swallowed a growing lump of fear, turning to regard her loyal steward.
“Remember your lessons,” he said grimly. “You can do it, m’lady. Stay in the saddle, boots in the stirrups. Maintain the advantage of height. Swing wide, but not so wide you cannot reclaim your sword. ’Tis heavy and will wont to fly. Use both hands. I will guard your back.”
Rosalynde gave the elder man a nod, grateful for his vote of confidence, and, more, his willingness to fight beside her, and still… she was paralyzed with indecision, hot tears pricking her eyes.
Goddess help her, even if she issued the command, they could advance no further than the circlet. She had never had an encounter withwitchfire, but she knew it to be deadly. The very instant the intense blue flame ignited, it was impossible to extinguish, even with water. In fact, according to legend, Taliesin taught the Greeks to create a similar conflagration from naphtha and quicklime. Greek Fire, they’d called it, and likewitchfire, it ignited on contact with water. Whatsoever it touched—with even the tiniest spark—burned until consumed. Though, unlikewitchfire, Greek Fire was an invention of the natural world and could be extinguished with some effort. Both burned with that same intense blue flame, but if the circlet had been born of Greek Fire, by now, it would have spread into the surrounding woodlands. Nay, this fire was not naturally made. Rosalynde had no doubt in her mind… it waswitchfire, and she hadn’t any clue how to fight it.
But even if they could find some way into the circlet, they would first have to battle their way through Morwen’s black-clad soldiers—all of them afoot, though armed to the teeth. Their armor shone black as raven’s wings.
The surrounding woods were rife with dragonflies and midge flies. The stink of molder and mire filled the air. A smoldering miasma wove itself through theaether—so thick in places that Rosalynde’sdewineeyes could see it clearly.
“What is this place?” she asked.
Edmund frowned. “The only thing I know for certes is that the tower is cursed. Moons ago a lord dared claim this land. They found his bride prone beneath the tower. Every year, the meadow surrounding it springs to life with her favored flower. And every year, the bellflowers creep further and further afield, as though she would still claim these lands in the name of her lord. No sane man will ever again claim these lands. Not even King Henry would count it among his Royal Forests.”
It was a queer place… overgrown with brambles all choking the trunks of nearby trees. Lichen and moss grew, but not only on the north side, on the south side as well—as though the very laws of nature were circumvented here.
The place was made stranger still by the profusion of birds squawking and gawking from the branches.
Shivering, Rosalynde peered again at her sister. Elspeth’s lips quivered, but Rosalynde restrained herself from reaching out to comfort her.
They had both heard of places like these—portals to the Nether Realm, like fairy glens. They were inexplicably perceptible when you stumbled across one, because the hairs of the nape stood on end, and the air held an unnatural chill. And yet, here, the sun shone brightly, glittering off bits of what appeared to be coal.
“How far lies York?” she asked.
“More than twenty leagues.”
Rosalynde’s shoulders fell with resignation. It was not possible to send another messenger to see if Malcom had received their message. And while it was certainly possible to travel the distance from York in a single day, it didn’t seem possible for Malcom to plead his case to David, then travel all the way back in time to meet them here.
Still, she prayed. To any god or goddess who would listen.
In the meantime… fighting their way into the tower didn’t appear to be a wise option… therefore, they must negotiate… and pray to the Goddess their mother would honor her part in the bargain.
Swallowing another knot of fear that rose to choke her, Rosalynde fingered the pommel of her sword. Even at this distance, it had begun to hum in response to her mother’s proximity. “You have the Book?” she asked Elspeth.
Elspeth nodded, flicking a glance at her sword. “It’s glowing,” she said softly.
Rosalynde gave a single nod. “Is there aught at all in that Book to aid us?”
Elspeth shook her head.
