Page 342 of The Daughters of Avalon
Lifting both reliquaries from his tunic, he removed both chains from around his neck, placing them gingerly on the floor at his feet to study each in turn.
They were exactly alike—nothing to distinguish them at all.
He wished to Heaven he knew how they worked.
If it so happened that he destroyed the wrong one, he might leave Rhiannon to battle her mother alone.
Conversely, if he destroyed them both… he could save them all, but then he would be gone from this world, and his time with Rhiannon would be done.
But she would live, unburdened by a monster for a husband. She would find herself a better man, who could love her and keep her as she so deserved.
But God’s blood!Hewanted to be that man.
He wanted to wake each day to her sultry smile until they were old and toothless—and he would love her even then.
To his dismay, the thought of another man touching her… loving her… filled him with white-hot rage.
Destroy the right one, and he might yet live the life he craved…
Destroy the wrong one and he would leave Rhiannon alone.
Destroy them both…
He swallowed convulsively, his hand reaching for the sword beside him on the bed.
Caledfwlch.
Even now, he sensed its innate power, and knew that, no matter how many times someone might attempt to destroy thegrisial huds, they would fail immeasurably. Contrarily, this sword would do the job. Of that, he hadn’t any doubt.
He could wait to faceherin battle, and see which reliquary shone in her presence… and then, attempt to destroy the right one… but that may not work, he realized.
Even despite the sword’s fabled blessing—that he who wielded it would not bleed—he couldn’t be certain it was true. At least, not for him.
Neither was Morwen to be underestimated.
She was frighteningly powerful, even despite her recent misfortunes. If she should happen to take her owngrisial hudback… if she destroyed his instead…
Running a hand across the stubble of his beard, he studied the crystals attached to each reliquary and chain.
Something in his gut told him that those crystals were profoundly important. Without them, the compartments they were attached to would be nothing but empty metal. They needed each other, and they needed to remain whole. The way he’d laid them across the floor… one good strike would destroy them both… and then come what may.
Lifting the sword, he fell to his knees, praying for the second time in as many days.
Making the sign of the cross, he kissed his thumb, then raised the sword aloft, taking it firmly with both hands as he continued to pray—not for his own soul, though he knew it to be in peril, but for Rhiannon and her sisters.
He prayed for England.
He prayed for forgiveness.
Most of all, he prayed for good aim.
And then he lowered the sword with a thunderous crack that resounded throughout the castle, smashing both crystals into smidirín.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
The battle commenced without pomp or ceremony, signaling itself with a new influx of birds. More, and more, and more arrived, till the entire field before Amdel Castle appeared black with their numbers. Squawking noisily, crows and ravens quarreled amidst themselves, pecking and diving at one another as though vying for territory. And even as their numbers grew, so too did the cacophony, until the sound was maddening and the air held a note of menace.
