Gambit of the Glass Crowns: Vol. I of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy (36 page)

“And now, to Arlais,” Connor said to Víðófnir, smiling as he looked to the north.

When Gawain opened his eyes, it took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked up at the raw wooden rafters that stretched across the house of the priests. Ceridwen had taken him there to rest. But how long had he slept?

He rubbed sleep from his eyes. They were still moist from tears he shed during his slumber. He wished it had been a horrible dream. He wished that when he walked out the door, his mother would be there to greet him. But he knew it was no dream. She was gone.

“Are you awake, good sir?”

The meek voice at the door startled Gawain. He saw a Hume boy, in no more than his sixth or seventh year, dressed in plain linen robes with eyes the color of the icy waters of the northern seas. “Are you a priest?” he asked.

The boy giggled, the apples of his cheeks turning bright red. “I am not even a proselyte, but I will be someday.”

“Then what are you doing in Arlais?” Gawain sat up, realizing his sword was gone. “Where is my sword?”

“Ceridwen took it to keep it safe. You cannot have a sword in Arlais. Oh, and my name is Sawyl.”

“You are allowed to live here and yet you are not a priest? Are you the son of a priestess?”

Sawyl laughed. “Of course not! You are strange. Priestesses cannot have children.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Gawain smiled half-heartedly, stifling his emotion. “How silly of me.”

“I have lived here all my life. Rhys found me in the forest when I was a baby and she brought me to Arlais. Instead of sending me away to people outside of Arlais, the Lady Rhiannon fostered me here among the priests. But you have not told me your name. Who are you?”

“My name is Gawain. I hail from the province of Gweliwch, far to the north of this place.”

“But you are Meïnir, are you not?” The precocious boy examined him closely, poking him with his forefinger. “You have their markings on your temples, see?”

“Sawyl, stop pestering our guest,” a priest said as he came into the room. “Did you not come to deliver a message to him?”

“Oh, yes, Sire Llewelyn.” Sawyl nodded enthusiastically before returning his gaze to Gawain. “He is one of the instructors of proselytes. Lady Rhys is the other.”

“I see.” Gawain rose from the bed and bowed his head to the man.

“You have manners I would not expect from outsiders.” Llewelyn bowed his head slightly to Gawain.

“I thank you for such a compliment.”

“Sawyl?” said Llewelyn, urging him to continue.

“Yes.” The boy stood up straight in a stance he had clearly practiced. “Gawain, you are requested to join the Lady Ceridwen in the house of the High Priestess. They await your arrival.”

“Thank you for relaying the message so well.” Gawain smiled at the boy, tousling his hair. “Might you show me where it is?”

Sawyl smiled, revealing several lost teeth, which made his smile all the more amusing. “May I, Sire Llewelyn?”

“Yes, but do not linger. Show him to the Lady Rhiannon’s gate and come straight back. Do not dawdle in the forest. You still have your chores to do before evening prayers.”

“I know.” Sawyl sighed as he tugged on Gawain’s sleeve.

He allowed the boy to pull him through the forest. The chill in the air had grown far colder while he slept. He noticed it more than the previous day. The scent of a late autumn snow hung in the air. Though snow was not unheard of this early in the year, it was rare. He hoped bad weather did not delay Connor’s travel, assuming he found himself able to keep his promise to arrive by the festival. Gawain needed someone to talk to about his mother, and felt Connor the only one he could turn to with his grief. After all, he knew Connor had lost both parents when he was young.

“Tell Ceridwen I did as I was told, and gave you the message,” Sawyl said as they approached the gate to Rhiannon’s walled garden.

“I shall.”

“That is Cynan. He looks mean, but he is nice enough.”

“Cynan?” Gawain eyed the great bear of a man who stood just outside the dwelling.

“He is the Lady Rhiannon’s personal guard.”

“I see.”

“See you later.” Sawyl gave a short bow before running gleefully down the forest path, his arms outstretched as though he were in flight.

Gawain smiled as he watched the boy disappear into the trees before he faced the two guards posted at the gate. “I was sent for by the Lady Rhiannon.”

“We have been expecting you,” said one of the guards. “Please enter. The Lady Rhiannon and Lady Ceridwen are waiting inside.”

“Thank you.”

His hands trembled and his heart fluttered as he walked into the garden. He did not know what the high priestess could want with him. Perhaps she wished that he take vows? He wanted to become closer to his mother’s people, but he was not sure the life of a priest was for him. He had been raised a warrior, and to become a pacifist after that seemed rather boring. He enjoyed his life as a swordsman, despite the danger which accompanied it.

A man stepped out of the shadow of the stone building. “You may enter.”

“Thank you, Cynan?”

He nodded, but did not speak.

Gawain reached for the door. He could hear the muffled voice of Ceridwen from within.

“This is not the future I desired!” Her voice boomed from the other side of the door.

“You know as well as any other that from the moment you took vows, your life was devoted to Her. This is Her decision to make, not yours.”