Page 347 of The Daughters of Avalon
Slogging through the muck,Rhiannon rushed from the castle, Cael’s wolfhound running behind her, and Morwen smiled gleefully.
“Here she comes,” said the Witch Queen. “At long last she will see you for what you truly are—a servitor of death. How appropriate it was for you to serve as the King’s executioner.”
Breathless,terrified, Rhiannon stumbled after Marcella.
Waylaid by soldiers, the paladin paused only to fight.
Driven to reach Cael, Rhiannon fought her way past soldier after soldier, her limbs heavy with metal as rain seeped past the rings of her suit. Burdensome as it was, the sword in her hand threatened to slip from her grasp. When she stumbled into a puddle, she rose again to face one of Morwen’s black-clad soldiers. Crying out in desperation, she responded with a swing of her sword. The clash of metal left her ears ringing and her hand numb. Dropping the sword, she bent to reach for it, slicing her hand in the process. If it weren’t for Marcella coming to her rescue, Morwen’s soldier would have taken her head where she knelt.
“Go!” said Marcella, reaching down to grasp the muddied sword and handing it back to Rhiannon. “Go,” she said again, her stark green eyes commanding Rhiannon to rise.
Now is not the time for weakness.
Now is not the time to falter.
“Go!”
Summoning all her might and the last of her will, Rhiannon rose again, and ran, her sides aching now. Somehow, she managed to evade more crossing swords, and made it past stumbling horses, men crawling from the muck, soldiers in the midst of combat…
“Spirit of vision, Spirit of night. Cast me a shadow to shield me from sight,” she whispered desperately.
Do not see me!
Do not see me!
Do not see me!
Behind her, she knew that Marcella defended her back, but Rhiannon daren’t look now to see how close. She could scarcely lift her own sword, dragging it after her, determined to reach Cael. Once more when she stumbled, she felt the wolfhound beside her, nudging her up, snarling and snapping at anyone who came near. Somehow, thanks to the hound, she discovered her feet again, and ran again, breathless and anguished.
How could they possibly defeat Morwen?
Here, amidst so many clashing swords, she felt outnumbered and hopeless.
This time when she stopped, the wolfhound stopped again by her side, snarling at the Shadow Beast.
Mordecai.
“Cael,” she cried, stunned by the sight of him.
Crouched, preparing to pounce, the wolfhound growled.
Sweet fates!Cael was exactly as her mother was—both avenging angels. Larger than life, they stood facing one another, wings outstretched to catch silvery droplets of rain. The Goddess herself wept to see her children enraged.
Morwen turned to face her and the light from her eyes made Rhiannon shield her face. Her beauty was startling, her aura shining as brightly as the metal of the sword Cael had tucked behind his back…
Caledfwlch.
The Sword of Ages.
And her husband… his aura dark as a storm-ridden sky… dark as the specter of death… beautiful as well, though even more terrifying for the visage he wore.
What would he do?
Would he join Morwen?
What would he do?
There is one among us who could be swayed,Marcella had said…
