Page 343 of The Daughters of Avalon
Down in the yard, the wolfhound began to howl.
Presently, dark clouds rolled in, bearing with them the silent menace of lightning. Heavy with mist, the air held a wintry chill uncommon for the kalends of August.
Trying not to think about Cael, or his forced confession, Rhiannon shivered over the sight that greeted her as she arrived on the ramparts with her sisters. After the first inrush of birds, Warkworth’s seneschal had come to retrieve them from the solar. At once, they’d equipped themselves for war and reconvened on the parapet, dressed in mail.
Morwen would strike at the most opportune time. For adewine,this would be the Golden Hour—those delicate moments during which the Veil between worlds was at itsthinnest and thehudwas at its strongest. These twilight moments came twice every day with the gloaming. Some folks called the half-light awitchlightbecause it was during this time when otherworldly creatures drifted into the Realm of the Living: Thefaefolkdanced through their sacred groves, changelings came to trade for babes, shapeshifters changed their forms, will-o’-the-wisps revealed themselves and banshees howled into the wind.
By now, both the inner and outer baileys had been warded, but it was difficult to say how effective those outer wards would be without walls to protect the circlet and spell.
Right now, those birds were well outside their periphery, but wards like these were easy to breach, and not even Elspeth knew for certain how to keep Morwen’s ravens outside their proximity without help from the Goddess.
Like a pentagram, a circlet was only intended to harnessmagikinto a specific area. It wasn’t a deterrent to physical forms. In fact, it was quite easy to disarm a warding spell simply by stumbling over its lines.
Mercifully, Morwen herself could not enter the premises unbidden. But, to ban a person from entry, one must speak their name, and Morwen’s soldiers were all nameless.
Warkworth’s warriors came prepared; under the seneschal’s direction, archers now formed a defensive line on the ramparts. Another defensive line two-men deep defended the inner bailey. Barrels of pitch were being boiled, poised to defend the gate. The postern door had also been warded and barred, and a handful of soldiers had been assigned to the gate.
However, there were not nearly enough men to defend the outer bailey, and slowly, slowly, slowly… the birds came closer and closer… alighting on the remnants of the burnt outer wall, breaching that barrier to amass in the outer bailey. Although,fortunately, as of yet, they had not come near the wards Elspeth had placed…
Because it was presumed that Morwen would attempt to barter for the things she most valued, Prince Eustace was dragged from the oubliette, hands bound, and brought to the ramparts. At the moment, he looked nothing at all like the arrogant bully who’d enjoyed picking on those less fortunate. Hungry, dirty and tired, he sat where they bade him to sit, and perhaps only bided his time, still hoping that Morwen would free him. With his head in his hands and his winter grey eyes so like his father’s, he sat looking like the broken man he was.
Rhiannon didn’t want to feel pity for him, and yet, she did.
She knew what it felt like to be discarded, and she knew what it felt like not to be valued. Only she would never have taken her fury out on others, as he had.
Sweet fates.What must it be like to feel so little compassion for human suffering, or the lives of others, that one would put an entire castle to the torch?
It was no wonder they kept Wilhelm from the King’s son, because if that were Rhiannon’s family murdered by his hand, she might, indeed, have killed him herself, pity bedamned.
Now, she watched from the ramparts, along with her sisters and Marcella as Morwen’s birds transformed themselves into soldiers in the blink of an eye. It happened so swiftly, there wasn’t a change to note. They were simply birds one instant, the next, black-clad soldiers, armed with glittering swords, exactly like those soldiers her sisters had encountered at the Widow’s Tower. “She’s here,” announced Seren, rubbing her arms.
“Someone fetch Giles.”
“I’ll go,” offered Edmund.
Giles and Wilhelm were both in the courtyard preparing their best line of defense, and if there was a bright side to be found, it was this: They wouldn’t have to worry about any siege. But, alas,neither did they have the resources to win hand-to-hand. As it was, they hadn’t even the numbers to hold the castle for long, nor enough missiles to keep Morwen’s army at bay. Rhiannon begged the Goddess for mercy.
“I hope she’s listening,” said Rosalynde.
“What of Cael?” asked Elspeth. “Has he emerged yet?”
Rhiannon shook her head, even now dreading the sight of her husband as much as she dreaded the coming battle. Their time was up.
What would he say?
What could she say?
For all Rhiannon knew, he had already slipped away, and even now he was out there… withMorwen—his benefactress andmistress.
“Nay,” said Seren, reading Rhiannon’s mind, and Rhiannon frowned.
She had always been better atmindspeakingthan any of her sisters. And, in fact, until now, she had been better at everything than everybody, except Morwen. It was wholly unnerving to discover that Seren was suddenly the better, stronger, wiserdewine—and neither was she accustomed to her sister’s altered appearance, although for Wilhelm’s part, he seemed unfazed by the changes in his wife, and if anything, he seemed relieved—as they should all be.
As the dark clouds grew darker, Rosalynde waved a hand, speaking softly to entreat the Goddess…
Goddess of light, protect us this night.
Ye who would harm, ye who would maim,
