25: Here Be Dragons

Chapter 25 of "A River Trembles", Book Two of The Môrdreigiau Chronicles

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea. You really need to catch up to make sense of A River Trembles. Go on, save this post and go have a binge read. You deserve it.

Badly wounded, Eidothea, Llyr and Cychwr end up in a dungeon. Llyr remains unconscious. Eidothea demands help. Emrys reveals that a new prophet has shown up, proclaiming themselves as the true prophet and Llyr the false. Eidothea is devastated.

The days passed. A healer visited us daily. Cychwr and I pushed together all three of the cots and sandwiched Llyr between us to give him additional warmth.

Cychwr and I talked to while away the hours. I learned at last the story of his tattoo — the result of a successful campaign in Nelson’s navy.

:Trafalgar?: I asked. I lay on my side, facing him. My gaze kept drifting to Llyr’s still face.

Cychwr lay looking up at the low ceiling. :Nay, that’s the one I died in. The only way to escape the Royal Navy.:

:You look very much alive to me.:

:Our ship was badly hit, listing. Another cannonade and the decks exploded. I found myself in the water, bleeding with dead men around me. I knew it was my one chance to escape. I dove, transformed and headed for home. On the way, I realised I could never go home. If I showed up, there would be many questions about my survival and I’d have to go back into the Navy. I didn’t want my family to be punished, or our dreigiau môr secret be revealed. I drifted, wandering off the coast. I had some bad wounds and was fading fast. Llyr found me. We’ve been friends ever since.:

:You have been friends for eleven years.: What was it like to be friends with someone for that long? My lonely soul ached to ask it, but dared not. He steered the conversation to other topics, inquiring after my life Above Sea. I described it, wondering if he recognised the isolation caused by fear of my dreigiau môr heritage being revealed.

I lay curled next to Llyr, every sense attuned to him. Since the healer’s visits, his breath came easier. Cychwr slept, his back against Llyr’s side.

Pressing my hand against Llyr’s chest, I felt for his heartbeat. It came slow, but steady. I snuggled closer.

I no longer recognised myself. The woman who wandered the cliffs, who fretted about being left in a room with a strange man, now pressed her body against a man’s.

Closing my eyes, I swallowed incipient tears. My heart ached. Llyr had to survive, so I could apologise for my part in our alienation from each other. My breath caught. I wanted to be held in his arms, to feel protected and safe.

I gave my head a little shake. Wait. What was I thinking? I cherished Llyr’s friendship, I wanted to protect him from pain but love him? As a woman loves a man? Whose feelings am I remembering, experiencing as if they were my own?

Yes, I felt attraction after seeing Llyr half-naked in the spring house. That was mine to claim. I even flirted with him in the streets in Caer Morgana. I had seen more of Llyr’s flesh than any other man’s and had admired his physique. Those feelings came from the time before we bonded.

The wanting to be held, even to be kissed … I groaned, recognising when that desire came into play. From the night we bonded. Everything Llyr felt, I felt. He loved me, wanted me. Without the shielding spell, his wanting became my own desire.

I sighed. With that untangled, the desperation I felt for Llyr’s recovery was not an artefact of that misplaced love. He was still my friend … even though he was angry with me for … I paused. He experienced my feelings as his own too. How did he know that my love-feelings were not reflections of his, or my own for him?

In the dark, I wiped a hand over my face. Because they were tangled up in shame, guilt and hatred. They could be only for Jasper Tregallas.

Jasper had not meant to be betray me. He still loved me and was wracked with similar shame and guilt..

I considered Llyr a friend. He was also, undeniably, my prophet. Without him, my court would be rudderless. Without him, I would have died. I owed him life.

I wasn’t sure if I owed him my heart.

By the fourth day, my nerves had frayed to their limits. I worried about Emrys failing to unmask the false prophet, or if his continued absence meant betrayal. That idea went so against what I knew of the principled draig môr that I refused to believe it and dismissed the thought whenever it rose. But it kept rising. I had believed it once before.

The healer made his daily visit and murmured in approval at the remnants of my wounds. I slid off my cot, moving it to give the healer access to Llyr. I paced the cell floor, waiting to hear the results of the healer’s examination.

The grille rattled open. I turned, full of hope.

Emrys dashed in, a pack over his shoulder, his eyes darting, frantic. :Good, the healer is here. He’ll come with us.: His sweeping gaze landed on me. :We must get you out of the caer. Now.:

He grabbed my arms and looked at Cychwr and the startled healer. :I’ll need your help. She won’t go anywhere without her prophet.:

He had gotten that much right at least. I shook free of his grasp. :I am not going to run.:

:Even if staying means the end of your Chosen Court?: He shook his head, his grey-eyed gaze intent upon me. :We will regroup, come back and—:

:Regroup?: Emrys wanted us to run away? :They will be even more entrenched. If you are already failing with Ceridwy and Grandmother’s support—because I am assuming you asked for their help—how will time improve matters?:

Emrys didn’t quite meet my gaze. A chill of fear ran down my spine. :It’s complicated. Ceridwy does what she can but because Llyr is her son, and you are Elin’s granddaughter… Their actions are seen as biased. They and I have done all we can to protect you and it hasn’t been enough.: He tugged on my arm. :We can’t waste any more time. Let us go!:

:Listen to him.: Cychwr said, glancing over his shoulder at us. He and the healer had started to tie Llyr to his cot with makeshift bindings, turning the cot into a stretcher.

:Is it safe to move him?: I asked the healer.

His hands fluttered, his eyes lowered. :Who can say? But the Esteemed demands—:

:Damn the Esteemed.: I spun back to Emrys. :We are putting his life in danger…:

:He’ll be dead if we leave him behind.: He squeezed my arm.

:Emrys…: I knew I should follow his advice but if anything happened to Llyr because of my choice? I couldn’t bear it. I stared at him, torn, too frightened to choose.

He pulled me into a hug. :I know you’re afraid of making the wrong choice,: he whispered. :But we don’t have time. I wouldn’t suggest this if there was another way.:

Hugging him, I took calming breaths, traveling down to the centre of my being. I needed distance from Emrys’ uncharacteristic fearful storm. We both knew this decision had to be mine alone. I needed more information first. :What sparked this? You lead the dreigiau môr, why do you fear?:

My head against his chest, I heard his heart pound. :I’m not invincible. I lost Gorawyn, my beloved consort. I couldn’t save her, but I can save you.: Emrys’ hug tightened. :My sister has woven this deception too well. I pull a thread and another one strengthens in her weaving.:

I took a deep breath. :Very well, let us—:

:As I thought.: A new voice shattered any hope of escape. Lady Angharad. I heard her utter delight. :Seize them.:

Hands dragged me out of the Esteemed’s embrace. Guards moved toward the healer, Cychwr and Llyr.

:Leave them,: Angharad ordered. :Llyr is of no use until he wakes. The other is of no interest.:

The guards bound Emrys and I in thick burgundy ropes. They hustled us out of the cell, along a myriad of hallways and floated us up countless stairs. At last, we reached hallways that looked familiar. We were back in the palace proper.

I heard a dull roar in my thoughts. At first I feared I would faint before I realised that the sound came from outside me. Hundreds of voices speculating, angry, sorrowful, shocked. The news of another prophet had reached the caer.

I glanced at Emrys beside me. He looked ahead, impassive, his jaw tight.

We halted. I recognised the room as an antechamber which led into the Great Hall. Lady Angharad retrieved the crown Emrys wore when sitting in judgement and donned it. Passing us, she smirked. The door opened for her and she entered the Great Hall filled with dreigiau môr.

Catching a glimpse of the crowd before the door swung shut, my heart squeezed with fear. Was this the end?

Lady Angharad broadcast her thoughts for all to hear. :The false queen and prophet have been captured! Her trial begins!:

I heard the low angry rumble of thoughts beneath the shock. Were they angry at me or her? I could not distinguish individual voices. Had Angharad primed the hall’s denizens with those who favoured her? They sounded angry, even violent.

:Bring them out!: she called.

The guards pushed us forward. I went first and heard the gasp when Emrys entered behind me in his bound state. They forced us onto our knees before the throne.

:I found my brother in her embrace! He has clearly succumbed and can no longer serve as an unbiased judge,: Lady Angharad declared. :By allying himself with her, he is a traitor to the throne of Caer Morgana.:

:I am the throne,: Emrys growled, his brows furrowed, his muscles flexing against the ropes. He glared at his sister. :Your arrest is a treasonous act!:

:You forget,: Lady Angharad snarled, :that we serve our people, not ourselves!: She took a graceful seat on her brother’s throne.

I winced at her awful mimicry of the Esteemed’s ethos.

Emrys grimaced. :You seek to destroy our only means of survival—:

:Enough!: Lady Angharad sliced across his thought. :Edryd ap Amlawdd, come forward.: The man stepped onto the dais, straight-backed with pride, his pale brown robes matching his pale brown hair. He looked older than I, although I could not be certain.

:See how his mark shines!: Lady Angharad proclaimed. :He is the true prophet!: Her voice gentled slightly. :Edryd, if you would tell us your story.:

I stared at Edryd. His mark did shine, located in the same place as mine, but the light had an orange sheen when it should have been pure blue. Could no one see the difference? His mark’s shape remained discernible, matching Llyr’s.

Edryd spoke. :You can see our marks are much alike, but hers is a lie and mine is the truth. Her prophet has enspelled her into believing this lie. Anything she says will have the ring of truth because she believes it is so, not because it is.:

I saw now the difficulty Emrys had faced in dealing with this silver-tongued character. He twisted lies, making them more believable than truth.

:His vision is what will happen to us if we accept them as the true Chosen Court. Do you want to die and see your grandchildren die with you?: Edryd shared his vision, similar and yet it showed the dreigiau môr dying instead of their bones as Llyr had seen. A wave of horrified grief rippled through the crowd.

:What is your vision then?: I snapped. :If you are the true prophet, what future do you foresee for our people?:

Edryd smiled, which put my teeth on edge. His confidence did not dim. :I will show you.: He shared it with everyone in the caer, a utopia of healthy dreigiau môr, creating beauty with magic, expanding the city with buildings that outshone the current houses with a sheer purity of white stone. Humans invaded our waters and were rebuffed until they were land bound, paying tolls to the dreigiau môr just to cross Môr Udd, the English Channel.

:In the days of old,: Edryd continued, :when sacrifices were made to the waters, to us, and man made maps with “Here be Dragons”, so shall it be again.:

:What do you have to say to that, false queen?: sneered Lady Angharad. :Have not all the earlier prophets’ dreams spoken of a sweeter future? Except yours.:

:Queen Myfanwy,: I replied, grateful for Rhiannon’s tutelage. I hoped she was safe. :Her prophet’s vision led the Chosen Court away from the city in search of a new home for dreigiau môr, never to return. Not all visions are happy.: As I had experienced.

Lady Angharad’s lip curled. :You convict yourself. A new and better home for the dreigiau môr? That sounds like a positive outcome.:

I sighed, knowing it useless to continue arguing the point. :Edryd ap Amlawdd, where is your monarch?:

He shrugged. :Not yet found. My hope is I will find that person soon.:

My gaze narrowed. :Then how is it your mark shines? Mine and Llyr’s did not until we were bound into the Chosen Court.:

For the first time, Edryd glanced sideways at Lady Angharad.

:Another lie!: she declared.

:You know it is not. I walked Caer Morgana and Llyr has lived among you without anyone seeing our marks. Llyr needed me to see his mark. Tell me, Edryd, how did you discover yours?:

Again, he shrugged. :I lit up one day, just like in the old stories.:

I sat back on my heels and laughed. :Some secrets are always kept. That is not how it works.: The crowd shifted, murmuring.

:What do you know?: Edryd shot back. :You are faking it.:

:Oh dear,: Lady Angharad said, twirling a lock of her black hair. :It seems we’re at an impasse. Who is lying, who is telling the truth? Our Esteemed’s impartiality has been biased as he has thrown in with the false queen, whereas I have no other objective than the peace of Caer Morgana.:

Emrys grunted. :You’ve always wants to be Queen.:

She ignored him. :Oh, but what to do? There is none to tell us which of them tells the truth. I guess the decision is mine.: She rested her chin on the back of her hand, staring over the heads of the crowd.

:There is one!: my grandmother called out.

:Who? Old Maeve buried in her cave?: jeered Lady Angharad. :She can never leave the deeps.:

My heart sank. Maeve was dead. She could not save us now. I eyed Lady Angharad. Had Maeve’s death been a part of her plan to overthrow the Chosen Court?

:Not old Maeve, insolent child,: rasped an oddly familiar voice. :But a Maeve restored to live among you is present to reveal the truth. How dare you disrupt the Goddess’ way?:

The crowd parted, allowing a woman in silvery-grey robes to pass. She wore her ice-white hair cascading over one shoulder. Multiple thin braids ended in bunches of tiny seashells that tinkled as she walked.

I sat back on my heels. :Maeve?: The guard behind me stuck the butt of his spear into my lower back. I cried out, managing to stay upright, avoiding an undignified sprawl in front of the dais.

Maeve stood before the dais, her grey eyes meeting mine when my head lifted. :Eidothea Pendyr is the true monarch and Llyr ap Peredur is her Prophet.:

:I do not know you!: Lady Angharad shouted. :You do not bear the mark!:

:Not that you ever saw it, but now I carry a new mark, as Sage for the new Chosen Court. You’ll see it when I’m bound. Give it up, Angharad, or shall I tell the caer what happened when you made your initiation into adulthood?:

Lady Angharad huffed. :As if you would know.:

:Oh I do,: Maeve offered an image of a young draig môr sobbing in front of her cave.

:Stop! Stop it!: Lady Angharad bolted up from the throne. :You will not take this from me!:

She pushed out toward me with one hand. An arc of energy sizzled forth.

With his shoulder, Emrys shoved me to the floor, catching the brunt of the lightning bolt.

Caught under Emry’s unmoving weight, I forgot all about undignified sprawls. I screamed his name. :Emrys! Someone help him! Ondine!:

Maeve stepped onto the dais, sending a shockwave toward Lady Angharad, pushing her back into the throne. Maeve pointed. :Seize her and her creature.:

The guards rolled Emrys off me and untied us. I scrambled to his side, looking for his gills to flutter, some sign of life. I shook him. He needed to wake up. I didn’t want another to die because of me.

Ondine dashed up the stairs. She knelt opposite, running her hands over Emrys, closing her eyes as she scanned him.

For the first time, I noticed the hall, indeed the caer, had fallen silent.

Remember the scorch marks in the destroyed garden? Someone’s been practicing. What exactly will be revealed in the next chapter. Any thoughts about today’s instalment? Comments? Share below or join the Chat!

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