Page 224 of The Daughters of Avalon
If not for the child, he didn’t care what happened to him, but there was no way in bloody hell he would let Seren face her mother. Clutching the Book in his hand, he bolted up the stairs, losing his footing twice before realizing he must ascend as close to the wall as possible.
Even then, the stones could scarcely bear his weight.
The tower was ancient, fallen to decay, the stone stairs crumbled beneath the heel of his boots.
Sunlight sluiced through the roof, pouring into the interior, highlighting the dust motes he stirred; the more he disturbed, the more it billowed like smoke—and that was nearly his undoing. His heart pounded painfully as images of Warkworthonce again accosted him—Lady Ayleth, with her skin charred and peeling away, her limbs twisted from the fall into themotte; his father, his brother and sister, burnt skin sliding off bones. The reek of death stank the air, caked into the hairs of his nostrils… even now, the remembered stench made his stomach roil.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
For Seren, and her sisters.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
For his father and his brother and sisters.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
God help him; if he’d taken another instant to consider his actions, he might never have crossed that circlet of fire.
Even now, he imagined the stench of his own burning flesh, felt the heat of it eating through muscle and bone, and the smell revolted him.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
It was all his imagination. His skin wasn’t afire. Nothing was burning—nothing but that circlet. Somehow, the Book itself was like an amulet. His clothes were untouched. He was whole. His clothes were untouched.You are whole.Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
It was true; little in life frightened Wilhelm so much as fire, but more than fire, the thought of Seren meeting the same fate as Lady Ayleth.
His nape prickled with fear, but he had no regrets—not even now as his legs faltered over the strain of the climb.
Mindful of the Book in his hand, he lost his footing again. He stumbled and fell near the top of the tower, nearly dropping the Book. Hanging by one hand, he grunted in pain. A lesser man would have fallen, but he had more weight on his body than most, and the strain was unbearable.Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
Somehow, he managed, with blood-stained nails, to claw his way back up and continue up the stairs.Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
Sweating and exhausted, he felt Morwen’s presence before her saw her—that same feeling he’d had on the day after the burning—a darkness that unsettled him to his marrow.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
His boots found purchase where they could, and with his free hand, he groped at the stone, pulling himself up the last few feet, wondering how in creation she’d mounted this stairwell with a babe in her arms.
Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
Laughter resounded from the rooftop—hideous peals of raucous laughter, and suddenly she began to sing, her voice, sweet as a siren, bouncing off stone—bouncing and bouncing, so it felt as though she sang to him.Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
Her voice came from his right, from his left…
When thy father went a-hunting,
A spear on his shoulder, a club in his hand,
He called the hounds,
‘Giff, Gaff; catch, catch, fetch, fetch!’
She was evil incarnate, he thought. How could she croon to that child whilst the world burned around her?Keep going,he commanded himself.Keep going.
At long last, he scaled the final steps and faced her, and it was impossible not to stand in her presence and not feel terror. She loomed larger than life, somehow peering down at him, though he stood taller than most men. The look on her face was bothgleeful and disdainful at once, and when she spoke, he could feel the rumble of stone.
“The arrogance of men,” she said in greeting. “Wilhelm, Oh, dearest Wilhelm. Did you truly believe you would defeat me when my daughters cannot? You are no more than a toad!”
