failure visceral within, Richard rose and let the Dark Thorn vanish.
Lord Latobius looked closely at him.
“Knight, forgive me my choice,” the great dragon rumbled. “Give the Morrigan my apology. I pray she is strong enough for the breadth of the Tuatha de Dannan.”
“You cannot mean to betray Annwn,” Richard snarled. “Betray your Queen!”
“It will not be so!” Latobius roared. “At great distances my kind can see, better than all other fey. But no one can view the future. It is that future I fight to protect.”
Henrick pulled on Richard, but still the knight did not budge.
“Leave,” Latobius said lowly.
“Very well,” Richard said curtly. “I hope you reconsider. I hope you remember those who wounded you so, those who would see your kin wiped from this mountain. With courage we go to combat Caer Llion. I hope you regain your own.”
Latobius ignored the rebuke and stared sadly again at his wounded son. The Fynach continued their efforts. Richard mounted Lyrian once more and, cueing the others, followed Saethmoor from the Ring of Baedgor. Richard did not look back.
It would do no good.
“You have a stubborn sire,” Richard said to Saethmoor.
“He is in pain,” the prince said, guiding them from the gardens to a flat stone yard bearing large wooden square platforms with posts at the corners like a bed. “He speaks wisdom but pain has chosen his direction in this. Perhaps he will think on what you have said.”
“What do you think?” Richard questioned.
“What you have said, I believe,” Saethmoor said. “I would rather fight.”
“I failed then.”
“No, Knight McAllister,” Henrick said. “You do not know that.”
“The lord may regain his stones,” Snedeker said.
“More is what will be done now. It is time we visit Caer Llion, Bran,” Richard said, the realization of his failure blooming into a flame of resolve.
“To do what?” Bran asked, clearly surprised. “I thought we would—”
“Fight with the Tuatha de Dannan?” Richard asked. “That will come. The Morrigan now owes me a favor, although a small one. It is time we exercise it.”
“Why Caer Llion then?”
“To end the threat of Philip Plantagenet before the war even begins.”
Bran stared into the afternoon sky where the four dragons and the barge they carried flew, disappearing into the ether of the Snowdon.
In minutes they were gone.
What had taken days to ascend had taken an hour to undo.
Upon landing in Arendig Fawr, Richard ordered Bran to soothe Westryl and Lyrian before disappearing into the Cadarn to seek out the Morrigan and the lord of Mochdrev Reach. Bran remained with Arrow Jack, whose piercing eyes watched the mobilization of the city. The Tuatha de Dannan scurried about, dozens of races—short clurichauns and feline cait siths, ugly spriggans and hairy woodwoses, pointy-eared hellyll and many others. Fairies buzzed through the air, relaying messages. A few companies of coblynau had also arrived, adding their stalwart presence. From the depths of the forest, carts of armor and arms rolled passed, coming from Mastersmith Govannon. Even leprechauns tottered about, drunkenly trying to help.
All carried weapons of some sort, ready for the coming conflict with Caer Llion.
After the Rhedewyr were once again at peace from their chaotic journey through the air, Deirdre and Snedeker returned from the Cadarn, steely determination in the redhead’s eyes.
“That was an interesting ride, eh?” Deirdre commented.
“No kidding,” Bran agreed.
“Looks like we go to war.”
“So many races here.”
“The Tuatha de Dannan are proud,” Deirdre said. “This fight has long been needed. Even without Tal Ebolyon, the force gathering should be formidable.”
“When Richard spoke in Tal Ebolyon, the dragon lord said something odd,” Bran said. “He called you a ‘fair witch.’ Why would he say that? Are you really a witch?”
“My mother was a witch,” Deirdre said, looking toward the Cadarn with an eagerness that annoyed Bran. “She died when I was very young. I know a few small spells she taught me, nothing that powerful. A levitation incantation. A song to change the color of leaves or control ivy. That’s about it.” She smiled sadly. “She would usually put back right what I had done.”
“I’m sorry to hear you lost your mother so young.”
“Life has a way of severing love sometimes,” she said sadly.
Bran nodded, thinking. When his own mother died, he had changed dramatically and knew of what Deirdre spoke. Upon entering Annwn he had changed again, this time for the better. He no longer felt lost to the streets. Despite only being in Annwn for a few days, he had become a part of something much larger than himself. He had