Ebony

Chapter 3 of Act 1 of "Obsidian and Flame"

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If you’re new to The Môrdreigiau Chronicles, welcome! You might find the Glossary helpful for some of these words. Colons indicate the sea dragon’s thought communications.

Obsidian and Flame chronicles the story of Panawr, a sea dragon prince with a deadly secret, and Arddun, who possesses a useless gift and has no desire to marry a prince. When they come together, sparks fly, but they grow aware that something more is at stake than the throne. Can they save their home, Caer Morgana, or will their quest be in vain?

Arddun got a negative answer to her question of friendship. She briefly returned home before being summoned back to her palace by her sister, getting to witness the royal family dynamics. The Esteemed announced her upcoming retirement. Later, Arddun witnessed a sleeping Panawr have a nightmare…

She wanted to console him but he clearly didn’t wish it.

She rose. :Don’t worry. I’ll keep what happened here a secret.: She bowed. On straightening, she caught sight of his startled expression.

She turned to go, but Panawr caught hold of her robe. She twisted, gazing down at him.

Panawr’s forehead crinkled. :I didn’t hurt you? When you made the mistake of waking me,: he clarified.

Arddun shook her head. :Mistake? Didn’t I save you from your dream?: She shook her robe free of his light grip and made a dignified exit.

Arddun stayed away from the hot springs for a few days. It galled her to admit it, but she looked for him in the corridors and in the gardens. In a rare moment of being honest with herself, she’d admit she’d been doing that since they’d first met.

He couldn’t be allowed to think she avoided him either.

One afternoon, she returned to the palace’s hot springs.

She entered the clearing by the cave to find Panawr and his two companions deep in conversation.

Her arrival must have stirred the waters, because they turned in her direction.

Panawr dismissed the two dreigiau môr and gestured she approach. :Keeping your head down?: he asked. She stopped right in front of him. He looked up at her. :That’s a smart idea.:

:Is it?: She glanced over at the mouth of the cave, suggesting it as her destination, not him. She turned back to him. :Do you have anything more to say?:

Panawr regarded her, his features even, although his dark eyes sparked. :Did I frighten you last time?:

Arddun dismissed the idea with a toss of her hair back over her shoulders. :I’ve been busy.: She didn’t offer further details.

:Hmm.: Panawr straightened a crease in his robe. Although belted about his waist, it hung loosely about his shoulders, revealing his chest.

To avoid the awkward silence, Arddun offered, :Your brother is putting together a campaign to win the title of Esteemed. Was that what you were doing when I arrived?:

Leaning back, Panawr gazed up at her, raising a quizzical brow. :Ah, they’ve turned you into a spy, I see.:

Arddun folded her arms. :I am not a spy.:

:Then—?: He kept the same curious expression.

:A second sounding board. Cynwal is interested in what Caer Morgana needs.:

:And what do they need?: Panawr picked at a fingernail.

:You’re planning to campaign against your siblings?:

:Half-siblings, and you are persistent with your questions. I thought I would have a lot more time to build up a benevolent presence, but yes, I must win the seat of Esteemed.:

:Benevolent?: Arddun raised an eyebrow. :Since when? You can’t change who you are.: She bid her features return to a semblance of calm.

:You mean despised, cold and cruel?: Panawr ticked off his attributes with his fingers. :I cannot be the darling of the social set, I have not the patience for it. I drill daily with the royal guards, even train new recruits, but my influence is not that wide.:

Arddun regarded him in a silence so long that Panawr shifted, in obvious discomfort at her continued examination. Becoming Esteemed would be a great honour, but Panawr should have been in play long before now if he desired the role. What held him back? More importantly, how could he become the Esteemed with the Golden Prince and the lively Princess Morfudd as his chief competitors? She mused on possibilities while he watched her in silence. At last, she asked, :When is the next practice session? I’d like to see.:

His brows lowered. :What are you thinking?:

:I don’t know you well enough to offer good advice—but I’ve an inkling of an idea that might work in your favour. I can’t yet say for certain.:

Panawr stood, adjusting his robe so fully covered him, his gills pulsing above the robe’s closed neck. :I join the guards in the afternoon. We could go now, if you like.:

Arddun nodded her assent. Side by side, they wove their way through the palace gardens. Once inside the palace, it did not take long to walk to the guards’ quarters and practice ground.

The barracks consisted of a large open square, surrounded by the palace’s three and four storeys of apartments and meeting rooms. On the ground level, several arches opened into the square from both the palace and the guards’ dormitories.

Panawr passed under one such arch. Arddun didn’t follow. He paused and looked back, sending her a questioning thought.

:I’ll stay here out of sight.: She retreated into the shadows. :I don’t wish to distract.:

Shrugging, Panawr strode across the square, hailing another. The addition of a yellow stripe on his red sash marked the draig môr as a captain. He snapped to attention on seeing Panawr. The royal guards, male and female, hurried into the square, stepping into a series of curved lines.

The lines blurred and shifted, breaking into groups of two. Their practice began. Arddun made little sense of it—the thrusts and parries and twirls had no discernible pattern to her untrained eye.

She focused on Panawr. He ran through the routine two or three times before stepping out of the formation.

His sparring partner seemed in awe of him and bowed at his departure. Panawr grinned, clapping his hand on the man’s shoulder. Arddun’s eyes widened.

The man could lead. Furthermore, with an easy smile she had never seen before. Becoming the Esteemed now seemed a real possibility.

For someone with a reputation for cruelty, none of the guards cringed or appeared fearful whenever Panawr approached to offer direction. Even when he pushed a young male draig môr to go harder, the guard nodded and adjusted without a scowl or sneer.

An hour later, Panawr commanded a break. The guards scattered, forming little groups around dreigiau môr who brought out cooling towels and refreshments.

In the pale greenish light, Panawr accepted a towel, slinging it around his neck, and turned toward where he’d last seen her.

Arddun’s heart thudded. With his flushed skin and a few strands of long hair floating loose from its binding, he cut a handsome figure. He looked for her because he wanted her answer, she reminded herself. She retreated further until she felt a wall at her back.

Panawr shrugged and returned to the guards. One of them, a sturdy male draig môr in a grey robe, split off from the group and called out a teasing jibe. :Princeling, are you slowing down?:

The other guards laughed with eagerness in their faces.

Panawr gestured with a curling of fingers and the hint of a smile. :Try me.: He pulled a small pin from his sleeve pocket and used it to close the neck of his robe.

The guards roared with excitement. Some of the women bounced on their toes. They circled around the two dreigiau môr. Neither draig môr carried spears but from her secluded position, Arddun couldn’t see what weapons they held.

Curiosity drew her through the arch and into the square, joining the throng who surrounded Panawr and his opponent. She stood on tiptoe and considered swimming upward in order to see, but none of the guards had dared, so she remained on the ground.

She rested a hand on a shoulder in front of her. The guard turned with a start, but let her move in before him. She kept edging forward until she stood behind the innermost circle of guards.

They quieted as she passed and a gossip current soon eddied about the circle, curious about her presence.

Inside that inner ring, Panawr and his opponent circled each other, looking for an opening.

The sturdy guard charged Panawr. Hands sought purchase on the slippery robes, grabbing at shoulders, elbows, thighs.

Panawr’s opponent got the better of him and they crashed to the ground, silt rising in a small cloud from their impact.

The guards cheered and called encouragement to both dreigiau môr. The two adversaries rolled, Panawr ending on top, his arm stiff against his opponent’s throat.

The guard’s legs bent and twisted and somehow, he managed to roll Panawr under him, breaking the hold.

:Come on, Trachmyr,: Panawr grumbled, loud enough for all in the square to hear, but no further. :I’ve got a girl watching. Can’t you let me win for once?:

The guards chuckled, flicking uneasy glances at Arddun.

She grinned. :Ha! How is that fair, princeling?:

Trachmyr looked up at her. :That’s exactly what—ow!:

In a blur of motion, Trachmyr ended under Panawr, his arm twisted behind his back.

:Surrender?: Panawr growled.

Trachmyr struggled beneath him. Arddun stared at Panawr. Dirt streaked his face and dulled his silver-grey robes. His long dark hair floated in fine waves about him, free of its bindings. He wore some sort of small medallion that kept his robe closed at his throat. She wondered if it had hurt to make those two tiny holes in the robe that was also his flesh. She covered her chest with her hand and willed her heart to settle.

:I surrender!: gasped Trachmyr.

At once, Panawr released him and helped him to his feet. They dusted each other off with slaps on the back, finishing in a quick hug. The other guards scattered from the circle.

Panawr turned and found her standing alone. :I see you couldn’t resist.: He smirked.

Arddun folded her arms, frowning, but words failed her.

Panawr’s smirk faded. :You should go back into the shadows. You’re in the way.: He gestured to the archways behind her.

Arddun turned. The guards set up large targets on the far side of the square. Closer, they carried out armfuls of spears, stacking them in large containers.

Turning her back on Panawr, she hurried away, choosing to stand behind the stacks of spears instead of hiding.

The royal guards lined up to take their turn in throwing the spears. Panawr stood to one side, along with the captain, observing and making occasional suggestions regarding stance adjustments and throwing techniques.

Panawr took a turn, throwing with incredible distance and accuracy. Arddun shuddered at each thud made by his spear burying deep into the target.

Scuffling occurred in the ranks. The captain hauled out two men, both looking bruised and spoke to them, brow furrowed.

:No! I’ll take the Prince’s judgement!: cried out the younger of the two for all in the courtyard to hear.

Panawr paused in his throw. He glanced at the captain, who nodded. He handed his spear to another guard and stood to one side, conversing in private with the captain before crossing to speak to each of the men. The younger stared at him, tearful but defiant.

:Does this happen often?: Arddun asked the guard nearest her.

The guard gave her a questioning look. :Nobody asks for the Prince’s judgement unless it’s absolutely necessary.:

Was this good or bad? Arddun wondered.

:Captain Cynddylig usually takes care of such matters, but occasionally someone is bold enough to challenge his authority and run to the Prince.:

A second guard nudged the first. :You think it’s about his sister?:

The first guard laughed. :Or his mother.:

Panawr spoke, making sure all in the square heard him. :Judgement was asked and judgement is passed.: The phrasing reminded Arddun of the few times she had attended the justice court in the Great Hall. :Faran, you brought proof of your accusation.: Arddun had missed witnessing that because of her conversation with the guards. :Baeddan, if you wish to remain among the royal guards, I suggest you make restitution.:

:Buy us all some medd reismôr!: someone shouted.

Panawr privately spoke to Farah and Baeddan. The two men, both abashed, bowed and walked away, still in conversation with each other.

The guards resumed their drilling practice, but Arddun had seen enough. She left, her mind racing.

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