giant man’s legs like a toddler to a father. “Safe and well.”
“What happened?”
“The creature came. Attacked us. Llassar here held it off, along with the Rhedewyr. He saved us from death.”
“Damnable right ah did,” Llassar growled, standing a bit taller. “Nothing doin’ really. Ah hate dem Unseelie folk. Evil skulkin’ creatures, the lot of ‘em.”
“I am in your debt then, Llassar Llaes Gyngwyd,” Richard said.
Henrick and Charl caught up to the rest of them, huffing.
“Ahh, the moles,” Llassar acknowledged.
“The Rhedewyr are safe as well,” Kegan added, then sounded a high-pitched whistle. “They put up a fight as only they can.”
Willowyn, Lyrian, and the other Rhedewyr clopped from the darkness, manes tossing.
“You leave us to fend for ourselves, dungknight! And this is what happens!” Snedeker reprimanded, flying before Richard with arms folded in disgust.
“Fairy,” Richard muttered. “Shut up.”
Snedeker did just that, alighting on Deirdre’s shoulder.
“There is much to discuss, Kegan,” the knight said, not pleased about it.
“Not sure I like the sound of that, knight,” the clurichaun said.
Richard filled him and the others in as quickly as he could, the distaste of admitting he was now the Unfettered Knight still rankling him. He shared what he knew about his new role, how Bran fit in, and how the boy had bested Lord Fafnir’s grandson in a game of gwyddbwyll to win over the leader of the mountain city.
“Did you get what we needed from Lord Fafnir then?” Kegan asked.
“We did. One more lord to persuade though.”
“You are the Heliwr, eh? The Lady remains mysterious in her actions, it seems,” the clurichaun said. “I wonder what other tricks she has up her sleeve. And what of the bodach?”
“It won’t be bothersome for some time,” Henrick answered. “Blocked from this side of the mountain. It can get out but it will take some time. With any luck, Faric and Forrenhahl will cross it and kill it when they march from Caer Glain.”
“March from?” Llassar glowered. “Where do ye moles go?”
“We march to Arendig Fawr,” Henrick answered. “In three days, we go to war.”
“A man of your…talents…would be useful upon the battlefield, Llassar,” Richard said. “As Lord Fafnir and the coblynau have realized, Caer Llion and its king will come here in due course, and even this sanctuary will not be afforded you. You will die as the rest of Annwn. Would you not rather fight and prevent that from happening?”
“How much? Ah do not come cheap.”
“Your death will be cheap then,” Richard said.
As Llassar and Henrick haggled over the importance of joining Arendig Fawr, Richard met Lyrion and ran his hands over his sleek muscled neck. He looked deep into the dark pools of the horse’s eyes and then patted him. “I am happy you are safe, old boy.”
A spark of curiosity entered the eye of the horse and he nuzzled Richard.
“He is beginning to like you,” Deirdre whispered, hugging her horse close as they were also reunited. “I am pleased and so is Willowyn.”
Richard patted the horse again. “I have few friends, it seems. Nice to know I may be making another who will not betray me.”
“I am your friend, Richard McAllister,” she said.
“I know. Thanks.”
“Mount your Rhedewyr, knight,” Henrick directed. “The summit is not far. Tal Ebolyon is nigh, to be reached before true night falls if we press hard.”
“We do not see in the dark as you do, Master Guardsman. It would be dangerous for us to ride at night,” Richard said. He turned to Llassar. “You have a camp?”
“And a fire,” Llassar said. “In the woods there.”
“We will stay here for the rest of the day and night to recover from the bodach,” Richard said. “At first light, we ride.”
Llassar led them through a copse of twisted pine. The trail was wide, big enough to allow the giant through, and Richard soon arrived to a meadow where a fire fought its bonds of ringed stone. The flames were inviting. An enormous tent of mismatched silk was constructed under overhanging intertwined limbs—the place Llassar and his wife slept.
After the others had eaten and slinked into bedrolls, Richard decided it was time to speak to Bran. The knight stood where the light of the fire met the uncertainty of dark, the fringe of two very different worlds. He thought it appropriate.
Richard beckoned the boy over, unsure of how to begin.
“You are now the protector of the Seattle portal, Bran,” Richard said, his weariness quickly driving him to his own bedroll. “You will train with Merle, who will teach you the various