Sons of Camelot: The Complete Trilogy (17 page)

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 towards 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 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.

Chapter Seven

Rhys woke in the dead of the night with hardly any effort at all. He had to try to summon Naida tonight. When the moon was high, he walked down to the River Trent and found a tiny sedimentary pond by the bank and sat down beside it.

“Naida,” he whispered.

“Rhys, how good to see you,” she replied.

They sat and stared at each other for a while. After what seemed like hours, he suddenly spoke.

“Has a muse never found a way to become human?” Rhys asked her suddenly.

Naida gasped at the forthright question.

“Well, there is an old myth about one muse who did manage to take human form but she was so unfortunate for all her human days afterwards that the conundrum has always been whether it was really worth all her efforts at all.”

“Tell me the story,” he whispered to her suggestively.

She smiled, blushing until her neck and throat, as well as her cheeks, were pink. Clearing her throat, she began.

“Her name was Calamity. She was an artist’s muse many centuries ago in the time of Babylonia. She went to him in a dream one night, whispering in his ear about a terraced building with aqueducts for water where he could make beautiful plants and flowers flourish in the middle of the desert and which would make him famous for millennia.