Ember
Chapter 2 of Act 2 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 and Panawr got drunk. Panawr told her Morfudd plotted to kill him, so he had to do something to stop her. She passed out after revealing she has a gift she can’t get to work. The tournament of the royal guards is about to begin. Prince Cynwal is participating, despite being pregnant (he’s a sea dragon, the males get pregnant).
The content warning I mentioned at the beginning of this series comes into play this week.
Dreigiau môr thronged at makeshift fences that blocked off the large park in the Royal Quarter. Some stands had been erected at one end for royalty and the council. Arddun and Indeg joined them.
Rhydderch stood, casting his gaze across the crowd. :Where’s Panawr? He observes the guard practices. I want to know who will win. You know, he always said he wanted to be a royal guard like me until—: He broke off.
Back in the day, Eigr’s and Rhydderch’s whirlwind romance of Esteemed and royal guard had won everyone’s hearts. Political pressure and alliances had resulted in his two younger children, but all knew their love somehow prevailed.
:Until he got hurt?: Arddun asked. She received sharp looks from both Indeg and Rhydderch.
:What do you know of it?: Rhydderch’s brows lowered.
:Not much.: She scanned the park. Where was Panawr?
:I’ve heard very little as well,: Indeg put in. :It happened on his way back from Maeve?:
The rite of passage into adulthood involved a journey into the deeps to visit the oldest draig môr that ever lived, the fearsome Maeve.
Rhydderch nodded. :He’s not been the same since. I might be biased as his father but while he was never a charmer, now he actively pushes people away. It’s a miracle those two friends of his are still at his side.:
Royal guards paraded through the palace gate and onto the green. Each wore carmine seaweed sashes denoting their rank. About twenty of them wore masks.
A draig môr Arddun recognised as the captain stepped into the centre of the makeshift ring. :Today, only the best royal guards will participate. We know you have your favourites so the competitors are masked. May the best draig môr win.:
Cheers greeted his announcement.
:We are honoured to have Prince Cynwal ap Rhydderch join us in today’s competition.:
Cynwal stepped into the square, his proud bearing, golden robes, shining gold and silver torc all drawing the eye.
:The first round is spear-throwing, the second sparring with the spear, and the third will be hand-to-hand combat.:
The attending dreigiau môr cheered. Those in the stands with Arddun clapped with less enthusiasm. She squeezed her sister’s hand.
The first round ended swiftly with twelve going onto the next round. All but Cynwal wore masks, the prince’s golden robes too distinctive for such a device to be any use.
Another competitor shone almost as bright as Cynwal.
Arddun glanced at Rhydderch, whose frown made her wonder. Was that indeed Panawr who finished in second place in the spear throwing? The grey robe seemed like his, but it lacked its usual sparkle. The draig môr’s hair hung in multiple braids instead of Panawr’s single ponytail.
Arddun decided not to speculate. If his father didn’t recognise him, nobody would. She couldn’t tell if Cynwal had recognised him either.
The second round, sparring, began. Wrappings of seaweed muffled and blunted the spears’ sharp points. The six duels occurred simultaneously. Each began with the simple forms but they soon devolved into a fast-moving flurry of dancing back and forth, avoiding thrusts.
Cynwal did well, holding his own against one of the guards. That masked guard also wore a grey robe with his hair in multiple braids.
The guard slipped beneath the prince’s protective forearm and hit him hard in the midsection with the blunt end of his spear.
Cynwal folded, collapsing to his knees, clutching his belly.
Indeg shrieked, leaping up. Others in the crowd cried out in disappointment. Four of the duels continued, but in the last, the other grey-robed guard flung off his attacker, retreating several steps to check on Cynwal, his many braids swinging about his masked face.
It had to be Panawr. Or was he the one who hurt Cynwal?
Cynwal raised his hand in surrender, a taut smile brightening his pale features. His opponent helped him up.
Cynwal sagged, his face crumpling in agony. Indeg screamed his name. The guard caught him, slinging Cynwal’s arm around his shoulder. Together, they shuffled off the field.
Sobbing, Indeg staggered toward them. Arddun followed, catching her sister as her knees gave way.
Others came to assist and Arddun found herself drawn along in Cynwal’s and Indeg’s wake.
The tournament resumed behind them. Behind her, she heard the crowd roar in fresh excitement. Someone had been defeated.
The healer met them at the door to their chambers. He took one look at Cynwal’s white face and his clenched teeth and hurried him onto his bed, one room away.
Indeg and Arddun remained at his side while more healers filed in, standing around the enormous four-poster bed, its calcified finials curling upwards into the ceiling.
:He said he would be safe!: Indeg spat out between sobs. :You said our baby wouldn’t be harmed.:
The healer nodded to another, a silent instruction passing between them. The second healer approached, guiding Indeg to a stone couch. Arddun held her sister’s hand. The young healer laid a hand on Indeg’s forehead, delivering a calming magic.
Cynwal roared with pain, thrashing at the bed covering. A blotch of darkness stained the front of his robes.
Arddun looked on in horror as blood bloomed across Cynwal’s midsection, where the guard’s blow had landed. She glanced at Indeg, who drowsed, unaware of the unfolding crisis.
:You must save them both!: Arddun squeezed her sister’s limp hand.
Healers surrounded Cynwal’s bed, blocking her view. She listened to Cynwal scream, hearing all his anger and horror. The water above his bed glowed with magic, a magic that pulsed and writhed and fought to save the two lives in that bed.
Hours passed.
Cynwal fell silent. That scared her more than any shouting.
Beside her, Indeg stirred. The young healer had joined her colleagues, leaving the two of them alone. :How is he?: she slurred.
:Pray to the Lady,: Arddun told her sister. :They’re still working on him.:
The glow subsided. The healers retreated, their limbs trembling with effort. They revealed a bloody tableau. One bent and tucked a small bloody lump into her sleeve.
The healer approached them. :Forgive me, Princess Indeg. I couldn’t save your child. Cynwal will heal and be able to carry another in due course.:
Indeg stared up at the draig môr before pushing past him and flinging herself at the bed. She reached for Cynwal, grabbing his hand and kissing his face.
With relief, Arddun saw Cynwal’s free hand rise and cup Indeg’s face. With effort, he sat up, groaning and clutching his abdomen. :Find that guard,: he gritted. :He killed my baby. He shall pay for it.:
:We have him!:
Arddun near jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t noticed the prince’s steward enter.
:There will be justice,: the steward swore.
Indeg sobbed in Cynwal’s arms.
Arddun stumbled from the bedchamber. She ran into the hallway and saw Cynwal’s grey-robed opponent standing between two of the royal guards.
She ripped the mask from his face. Her hand found the wall behind her, stopping her from falling.
It was Trachmyr, not Panawr.
She had to find him. She needed Panawr to fix this mess she knew in her gut he had made.
The tournament of the royal guards had long since ended. Dreigiau môr still milled about the park in the centre of the Royal Quarter.
:Prince Panawr?: she asked of the nearest guard. With the tournament over, all had disposed of their masks.
:He and the Consort entered the palace a while ago. You won’t believe it, but he won! Him! The Obsidian Dragon!:
Arddun had no time to listen to the details. She fled back into the palace. Neither of them had waited for news in or near Cynwal’s chambers. Where would they be?
She spotted Panawr down a hallway, walking toward her. Arddun ran to him, halting before him.
:We have heard the news,: Panawr told her. His grim features told her that, but his calm thought betrayed no hint of emotion. Did he not care?
:But—!: She swallowed a sob, grabbing his sleeve.
Panawr steered her out of the hallway and through the nearest door, which opened into a small meeting room. :Tell me here. Anyone can see you’re distressed. Who else have you seen?:
Arddun didn’t see the importance of his question, but told him anyway. :I made it to the palace gate before I saw the tournament was over. How did it get so late? He … it was awful.:
:I’m sure it was.: Panawr’s reddened eyes belied his coolness.
Arddun stared, shocked at his calm tone. :Cynwal wants his opponent punished.:
Panawr dragged fingers through his new braids. :Trachmyr knew the risk.:
:Risk?: Arddun shuddered. :That’s acceptable to you? Cynwal took the risk, not Trachmyr.: She grabbed the lapels of Panawr’s robes. :You have to stop it.:
:How?: Panawr stared, then blinked. :No, absolutely not.:
:You’re an advocate now and he’s one of your colleagues. I saw you fight him before. He didn’t know Cynwal carried a child. Nobody outside the family knew. How is this fair?:
:Arddun.: Panawr picked her fingers free of his robe. :This pits me against my own brother. How can I? His pain must be unimaginable.:
:Then talk him out of it. Do something, Panawr.: Arddun stared at him, willing him to obey.
Panawr’s fluttered in a long, slow exhale, the warm air blurring the braids of his gold and silver torc. :Another life should not be lost for this. I will … I will see what I can do.:
He pivoted and left the room. Arddun sank to the floor, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart.
:It could have been you,: she whispered after him, knowing her thought reached him. :It could have been you.:
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