The Knight (12 page)

“I see,” he said, clearly dejected by the news.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” she reached into the folds of her sleeves and brought out a small metal box. She handed it to him. “Happy birthday, Rhys.”

“Oh, thank you mother. I knew you would remember,” Rhys said hugging her. “It is my first present of the day.”

“You are welcome, beloved son.”

At that moment, she graciously stood to leave him, but he held her hand and pulled her back down to the seat. Rhys opened the box and lifted the folds of cloth. There a new arrowhead was resting on a bed of red velvet. The steel was shiny from repeated folding and shone like precious sterling silver. The broadhead was elongated for increased speed and had four points, all fearsomely sharp with the edges meeting at a deadly point. On impact, the arrow would cause massive bleeding and a clean kill; perfect for the large game which Rhys preferred and just in time for the hunting season. Silently, he closed the box and hugged his mother tightly.

“I have had 100 of them made for you my son, one for every year that I hope you will live to see after this.”

“This is the most appropriate and appreciated gift that I shall ever receive,” he said softly. “Gratitude, Mother.”

Just then the bell sounded for lunch and Mucuruna hastily stood up and smoothed out her voluminous skirts. She took a white handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her wet eyes as Rhys held his arm out for her. Together they left the library and went down to the dining hall to join the rest of the family.

Chapter Five

When Erasmus arrived back at Avalon with Queen Igraine and her court, he turned them over to Morgana and her sisters and quietly excused himself from the regalia of the royal welcome. A parchment had reached him that day while he was on the road just south of Brum’s Grove from Beormingaham and he wanted to attend to it urgently. It was from Rhys. The going had been very slow on the road due to the queen’s carriage so it had been easy for the rider dispatched by Rhys from Red Ditch to find them.

He tenderly closed the door behind him and sat by the cold fireplace in his presence chamber before unrolling the scroll.

“Dearest teacher and friend, Erasmus,

It was saddening to hear of your early departure from Kenilwurt but the noble call of your mission is reason enough for me to grant you easy leave. I have been given my birthright lands by my father and grandfather in the valley of Red Ditch and a fantastic manor is already being built there.

I will be on my way to Sheffield by then so dispatch the rider to deliver any news to me at Nottingham.

Thank you for your faithfulness my friend. I am sure we will embrace again soon.

Rhys, at Red Ditch.”

Erasmus paused to look at the height of the sun; he could just about make it there and back before midafternoon when Morgana was hosting a special tea for the queen. Hurriedly, he sat at his desk and scribbled a letter. He pulled his cloak from its hook and went down to the castle’s watergate. Finding the beautiful glen was easy with Rhys’ straightforward directions and he tacked the letter on the tree where it could be easily seen from the pool.

To his surprise, the plan worked because by the next day when he returned, a note was posted on the same tree with the word “Erasmus” written on it.

That evening a rider left Avalon at full speed riding north toward Leicester.

***

Naida slowly pushed the library door open and peeped cautiously around it to see if there was anyone inside.

The room was deserted and as silent as a tomb. Her calculations had been correct; everyone was at their morning activities, and even Pendrake was busy giving his horticultural lectures to his students in the greenhouses. She had excused herself from her needlework class early, claiming exhaustion, leaving her teacher to marvel over the exquisite set of handkerchiefs she had made for the queen.

She had toiled excruciatingly over the fantastic embroidery of interlocking scrollwork all of the night before in hopes of getting the exact reaction from them. It was the perfect harvest time motif which she had executed, all in spun silver thread.

Naida made her way up the winding staircase at the back of the library all the way to the top floor and immediately started scanning the shelves for the book she needed. Soon she found the series of dull green leather bindings of the book’s twelve volumes peering out from amongst the various black and brown spines on the shelf. She took down the fifth book in the row and turned it over in her hands; it was thick but surprisingly light.

The Magnus Chronicus was a great collection of fae histories, which some faery thought were not all true. But the fables were so old that none of the fae living among them in Eon could say for certain which were fact and which were not. That did not matter to Naida, however; she knew exactly what she wanted to find. It was a story in which a faery noble had disguised himself and traded a branch of magical silver bells to an earth king for his wife and children. Apparently, when the branch was shaken, the music made by the bells was so bewitching that it could entrance mortals into giving anything to have them. But that was not the most interesting part to Naida. The story went on to imply that this earth king used the branch of bells to take himself over into Eon through the perilous membrane,
Annon Morn.

Carefully Naida set the volume on a nearby desk. She chose one which was at the back of the alcove and sat facing the front of it so she could keep watch. The volume was titled: Mystical Objects and Magical Tools. Careful not to tear the fragile parchment, Naida turned the book’s pages through the Mystical Objects section. Each object was elegantly illustrated and complemented by paragraphs of detailed explanations on its own page. Some went on for two or three pages where the author had included accounts of legends and fables dating back so far in time that the dates could not be recorded.

“In Hibernia, there was a marvelous silver bough which, like the golden bough of Virgil, served as a doorway into the Arcadia of the gods. Some say it was the property of Manannan MacLir. Cut from a mystic apple tree, the silver branch gave forth magical music which none might resist. The apples it bore, dangling like bells, served the sojourner for food while in the Land of the Gods.

“Cormac Mua Cuinn, the High King, was lured to the Summerland one day when he encountered a young man holding a wondrous branch of silver which had nine golden apples hanging from it. When the youth shook the branch, the apples touched and made sweet music like bells, so that he who heard it forgot his sorrow and care. Cormac asked the young man if he would sell the marvelous branch, and to his dismay the youth demanded the king's wife, son, and daughter in exchange. Enchanted by the music of the silver bough, Cormac agreed. His family was distraught to learn how they had been traded away until they heard the music of the branch, at which they immediately forgot their dismay and departed with the young man joyfully.

“After a year had passed, King Cormac longed to see his wife and children and so, taking the silver branch, he set out to find them. As he rode, a magic cloud enveloped him and he found himself on a beautiful green plain, before a majestic house. Within he was greeted by Manannan who ushered in Cormac's wife and children. Manannan revealed that it had been he himself who had taken the king's family in order to lure him to his happy country. Cormac and his wife and family slept that night in the house of Manannan, and when they awoke the next morning they found themselves in their palace at Tara with the silver branch and other magical gifts beside them.”

Naida could not believe her eyes.

She read the page over and over. Suddenly, she realized that although she had her proof of what Minerva had told her, she did not have any more answers as to where the orchard was to be found than when she had started out. She took the book back to the shelf and quickly went to the reference card drawer. She searched for ‘silver orchard’… nothing. Then she tried silver bough, again nothing. She paused and mulled over Minerva’s words in her mind and suddenly it came to her: ‘Lifetree’. She searched for the card and there it was. According to the location stated on the reference card, the book was right there with her on the thirteenth floor. She went immediately to the shelf and took the book down. Settling back in at the desk, Naida opened the book to find a series of fantastic drawings of the Lifetree.

She skimmed over the accounts of its history and how it came to be in Eon until she came to a picture of the Great Hall with the beautiful silver apple tree stretching out wide branches toward the atrium roof. But something in the picture was not quite right. Naida looked closer and studied the tree intently before she noticed what the problem was. The leaves were almost all missing from its branches and in the drawing more were falling still. She began reading the picture’s accompanying passage.

“After the Great War, Oberon’s magicians cast a spell on Eon which caused the Lifetree to grow out of the floor in the throne room he had shared with Mab. The Lifetree grew and entangled itself with the sources of all living energy in Eon; therefore, without the energy from the Lifetree, the Fae living in Eon will age and die and all life will eventually cease. The spell dictated that the tree had to be sustained by the periodic introduction of a fresh branch from the Mother Tree which is found in a Silver Orchard on Earth.

“Only the tree knows when it needs to be replenished and although no one knows how it happens, the
Nestaron
is always summoned at this time to gather the branch and use its power to cross into Eon to resuscitate the Lifetree before the last leaf falls. The Summoning is accompanied by dreams, visions and signs which appear to members of the
Ernil vuin
and sometimes the
Brannon vuin
to confirm that the tree is calling for sustenance and thus the coming of
Nestaron
, ensuring that the Faery will prepare adequately for the reception. The spell allows for the human to fail the quest, however, and if this ever happened all Eon and its inhabitants would be doomed
.”

Naida thought the story was fantastical. She had seen the Lifetree only once in all her years in Eon. In fact, she did not think she knew anyone who had ever seen it more than once or twice. She started to wonder what any of these fantasy stories had to do with the situation between her and Rhys.

She turned the page and saw an elaborate illustration of a branch bearing twelve perfect silver apples, the inscription read, “
The Eternal Branch
”. Below the picture she read:

The Eternal Branch is granted to
Nestaron
if he can defeat the nymph of the orchard in an archery contest. She is a fierce faerie who was once one of Titania’s best warriors, a brave
inya
who rode at the front of Titania’s famed mounted archers in battle. This duty is assigned to the nymph Rinnah, who has never been defeated by
Nestaron
. In order to maintain the difficulty of the challenge, each time it has been found both she and the orchard vanish and reappear somewhere new on earth.

If the Eternal Branch is won and brought to
Galasriniel
, the spell will be broken forever and the Lifetree will never require replenishing again. Ultimately the cycles of
Nestaron
will end, liberating Eon from its dependence on Man forever. It was prophesied that when the celestial bodies were positioned correctly, a boy of regal blood, a dragon prince will come bearing the name
Lhûgernil
, and he will be the final
Nestaron.

Naida gasped at the name laid out before her on the page.

“Could it be you? Is that why we found each other?”
she wondered.

“Rhys,” she sighed.

She shut the book and took a deep breath, then she exhaled and breathed deeply again and as she did, Naida felt the first of the tears that had begun welling in her eyes slide down her cheeks.

Chapter Six

Earth

In light of the recent attack at the inn, Rhys’ family decided to make their own adjustment to the plans for the journey north.

Rhys and Richard were supposed to have gone to Nottingham to gather Owen on their own; however, his father would now be accompanying them and Richard’s father would also join the party before they arrived in Leicester. If the two older men were satisfied by a suitable lack of event by the time they were to leave Sheffield for Leeds, then the four ‘sons’ would be allowed to continue on their own.

Gwallawc, Rhys and Richard set out from Kenilwurt with a small contingent of riders made up of four swordsmen, a page and a cook. The journey was quiet as always and just as Rhys had suspected, the colder the weather got, the surlier his father’s temperament became. To separate himself from the poor company, he often rode ahead of the party with Richard and Celyn, the pageboy.

Together, they chased foxes and other small animals into the roadside ditches for sport and often when they had made camp for the night, the three boys would spar with their swords or shoot target practice with their bow and arrows. Rhys took the evenings to exercise Broderick when he had not ridden the horse for a portion of the day. It was true that Emrys was easier to ride over long distances, but Rhys felt unprepared without his charger close by. If he was convinced that he would not need him for the rest of the trip, he would entrust Celyn to return the horse to Kenilwurt for him.

Caradoc had met them on the road just outside of Coventry on their second day northward and his addition to the group had been a relief for Rhys. His uncle was full of conversation and that seemed to gratify his father. The two rode side by side and were constantly engaged in muttering.

As it turned out, soon after starting the journey north, the party began to fall short on fresh meat. The cook had brought a fair amount of dried fruit and grain with them, but by the second day’s evening meal, it had become clear that the same care had not been taken elsewhere with the rations. The dried beef that cook served for breakfast the next morning was the last straw for Rhys. Autonomously, he took on the chore of daily hunting and he recruited his companions, Richard and Celyn, to the task as well.

On the plains, they rode out far ahead of the rest of the traveling party and found pheasant and rabbits in the brush which Celyn chased into the open and Rhys and Richard shot down from vantage points in the trees. In the woodlands, they stalked deer, tracking them on horseback. Rhys would ride down the selected animal and shoot it while standing in the stirrups.

He took Broderick out on these expeditions; the horse was as much a warrior as he was. Surefooted and determined in his stride at any pace but most of all, he was fearless. The hunting was good and got better the further north they went. They arrived in Bedworth very late on the third night, riding into the stable yard of the Lion’s Inn hours after dark. Nevertheless, the innkeeper was expecting them and ushered the men into the common room for warm broth and bread. After a flagon or two of good wine, the men bedded down in the common room while Rhys, Richard, Gwallawc and Caradoc took a room upstairs.

The next morning while his father and the other men were eating their breakfast of hot oat porridge, Rhys found the innkeeper and asked if any messages had come for him. The innkeeper’s wife brought out a folded parchment from her apron pockets.

“The messenger said to deliver the letter to you in private and bring no attention to it. I was going to wait until you were departing to have the stable boy hand it to you,” she explained.

“That would have done the job, however I find myself anxious to receive this news,” Rhys replied.

He sat in the kitchen, opened the paper and read.

“Rhys,

I received this from Naida in response to my letter. I have had no difficulties communicating with her in this way; I found her reply by the next morning.

As I did not have the chance to send you off properly, I must say that I wish you the best of luck as you travel north. This task is important but I know you have the skills to succeed. I will see you again, very soon.

Your loyal friend,

Erasmus, at Avalon.”

Inside Erasmus’ letter was another fold of parchment sealed with bright green wax. He tore it open next and read.

“Rhys, my love,

I was relieved to get your valet’s letter at the Everlasting Pool. You will see many cities during your travels and your destination is many days’ ride into the northern country. I will miss you dearly. Remember when you are out there, if you desire to speak to me, find a pond and I will find you just as I did in Red Ditch. If there is no pond, place a bowl of water on the ground at sundown and when the sun just passes below the horizon call my name three times into the water. I will wait with much longing to see your face at that time, my love.

You are special, Rhys. Your destiny is great and has become intimately entwined with mine and that of my people. Keep yourself safe. I wait patiently until I may see you again.

My heart is yours,

Naida”

Rhys could hardly breathe as he read the letter over and over.

Finally, he folded the papers, tucked them into his jerkin and returned to the common room to finish his breakfast. The sun had already risen and it was time to depart. The ride to Nottingham Castle was not a very long one but it was known to be difficult, weaving through a fair amount of rough terrain. Sheffield would be the longest distance they had gone in a day since leaving Kenilwurt, but they were determined to arrive at Sheffield Manor Hall in four days and avoid too many hard nights in the open.

Once on the road, Rhys turned his mind away from the letter against his chest and toward the matters at hand. If they made good time, they would arrive at the Thorn and Ivy Inn in Leicester by the next day and at least the hearty meal and warm bed would comfort him somehow. The retinue of men and supplies would be leaving them there and returning to Kenilwurt, leaving Rhys and the others to go the rest of the way on their own. Rhys wanted to thank them with a substantial animal which they would prepare for supper that night, which meant the day would be dedicated to bringing down a large kill.

He left his elders to their bantering and veered off into the woodlands with Richard. Celyn followed at a distance behind them as was customary when hunting the animal that the boys had in mind. After an hour, they found the trail of a small sounder of pigs and set chase. It didn’t take them long to find them foraging for roots and mushrooms among some fallen trees in a quiet clearing. Richard dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, continuing on foot. Celyn climbed a tall tree and found a vantage point from which to watch the animals. He was careful to be very quiet; wild pigs were known to charge at people and hurt or kill them during a hunt. Rhys circled them and identified a large boar with huge tusks. It would make a prize catch. Suddenly, Celyn whistled the call and Richard was standing in the clearing shouting at the pigs. They all stood still, glaring at him for a moment then the boar dipped his head and started digging at the ground with his front trotters. He paused to see if Richard would advance and when the boy ran toward him, he charged. Richard ran as fast as he could and vaulted onto the lowest branch of a nearby tree, shimmying up the trunk as the boar reached it and attempted to climb up after him. Then Rhys rode out of the woods at a full gallop, determined to catch the pig in his distraction. Standing high in Broderick’s saddle, he released one of his new broad head arrows, sending it flying right through the pig’s gullet. The boar collapsed on the spot and his herd dispersed in a myriad of grunts and squeals.

When he reached the foot of the tree, Rhys helped Richard down and Celyn came running out of the woods. The boys grasped arms and embraced, laughing heartily. The adrenaline from the hunt was coursing wildly through their veins, but the bounty of their efforts lay on the ground at their feet. The pig was at least five feet long and very fat; it would do very nicely at their dinner that night.

The boys’ celebration was suddenly punctuated by a distant howl deeper in the woods. They stood silent, listening to gauge the distance of the wolf that had alarmed them. He was at least a mile or so away, but the scent of the kill would travel fast. Quickly, they cut a long sturdy branch from the tree Richard had climbed earlier and used their ropes to lash the boar to the center of it. Richard mounted his horse holding one end of the limb on his shoulder and Celyn did the same. They rode back to join the traveling party with the large pig bobbing from the stake between them. The men gave a loud roar at the sight of the animal.

That night, the spit in the camp hissed and sputtered under the dripping fat and juices from the roasting boar and the air was filled with the delicious smell of meat. At the table, Rhys’ father beamed with pride but he said nothing to his son. It was Caradoc who turned to Rhys and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Quietly he said, “I have seen with my own eyes that you are a man, Rhys. This hunt has proven your worthiness and your courage. You will succeed on the voyage and when you return to us, you will return as your true self, a proven Dragon Prince.”

Rhys’ eyes filled with tears at his uncle’s words but he quickly quelled them, allowing not one to spill over. Silently, he nodded his thanks to him and returned to his meal.

That night, Rhys took to his own tent and sat in silence in front of the brazier until the coals began to fade. He was tired but the anxiety he felt knotted his stomach, and drove the sleep away. He retrieved the letters he had received from Erasmus and Naida and re-read them, wishing that Erasmus could be close to him or that he could hear Naida’s clear voice again. He folded the papers and tucked them back into his satchel, climbed into the large bed and fell quickly asleep.