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THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN
By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta
Chapter 4
Cerridwen could hear them bickering outside her tent. She sat up straighter, straining to hear more clearly. She wished she could edge closer to the entrance of her tent but the chain around her ankle restricted her.
Night had fallen and they were all tired from having traveled all day. She didn't know where she was or where they were going to take her. She wasn't sure any of these assassins knew either, except for the one called Sephram, who seemed to be the officer in charge while Branagan was away. Branagan, she deduced, was apparently the leader of this band of assassins.
Like her kidnapper, Sephram was lean and muscular at the same time. Obviously built for speed and agility. To her relief, he seemed like a decent man, as were the rest of the group. Not at all like Arnak and his scoundrels. Sephram had treated her relatively well. She was fed and even clothed.
The clothing they provided though was rather a bit risque for her taste. She wore a beige sleeveless body suit that ended at mid thigh, exposing her long legs. The suit was made of an elastic material that really clung to her curves. Black boots that were almost as high as her knee completed the ensemble. Overall it was comfortable but she blushed furiously when she first wore it. She had no choice though. The silk robe she wore previously had been even more of a disgrace: torn, tattered and completely soiled.
The barely audible conversation outside her tent called her attention once more. Inspite of its inherent cohesion she could still feel the air of tension in the group and a vague sense of confusion. She could hear only snatches of the outside discussion. Branagan's name was mentioned several times. Sephram was trying his best to instill confidence in them. Something to do with keeping their end of the bargain. It was then that Cerridwen felt a sense of dread. Sephram meant to carry out the original mission to hand her over to whoever paid to have her kidnapped!
She wanted to scream out in frustration. She deeply regretted running out on Branagan. She was convinced he'd had a change of heart. She was almost certain he was going to abandon his mission. And it was also clear that she was truly safer with him. The irony of the situation was not lost on her as her delicate lips curled into a grim half smile.
It was easy for her to discern that to these accomplices of Branagan she was a commodity to be profitably traded. To Branagan...what was she? She couldn't believe that an ordinary mercenary would risk his life twice for his merchandize. There was definitely a desperate look in his light-colored eyes when she was in danger. And the way he reacted when she confronted Arnak...perhaps she was being naive but she was sure her kidnapper was motivated by something else...something other than money.
The flap of her tent opened and she turned to see who her visitor was. She was surprised to see that it was a young woman, just a little older than herself. And from the looks of her, also an assassin. She was carrying her latest meal on a tray made out of large leaves. It was filled with an assortment of roasted meat. The aroma was very appetizing, which made her realize that she was hungry.
The woman knelt before her and set the tray down on the ground within her reach. "Good evening, Your Highness," the female assassin said with a little bow. There was a trace of eagerness and innocence in her eyes and general demeanor.
Cerridwen smiled, not a little relieved that she was not the only female here. "Thank you," she said as she picked up a piece of meat daintily with her fingers and bit into it. It was surprisingly tasty. "This is quite good."
The woman grinned, looking especially pleased with herself. "I'm glad you like it! Caught and cooked it myself."
The princess now looked at the piece of meat under a new light. Caught? "Uhm, exactly what is this?"
The woman winced. "Don't worry about it, Princess, please?"
Cerridwen raised her eyebrows briefly. Oookay. She took another bite. Can't be too picky. "Won't you have some with me?"
The female assassin was genuinely surprised. "Well, I've actually already had some but a little more wouldn't hurt, I guess." She took hold of a fairly large piece of meat and proceeded to devour it with gusto.
Still smiling, the princess asked, "What's your name?"
"Raven," she replied between mouthfulls.
"I've never met a female assassin before."
"And I haven't met a real princess before either! But there's quite a lot of us female assassins. That outfit you're wearing, for instance, was owned by Armina."
"Was?"
"She was killed not too long ago," she replied with a touch of sadness. "But look at you!" she suddenly brightened up considerably, looking her up and down appreciatively. "You really clean up pretty well, Highness. Armina was the tallest among us but you're even taller. Didn't think it'd fit you. Although, just between the two of us," her voice dropped into conspiratorial tones, "you look better in that outfit than she ever did."
Cerridwen could only smile wanly.
"Say," Raven said, all of sudden becoming serious, "what really happened to Branagan, anyway?"
"I really don't know," the teenage princess replied after a moment's pause, inwardly glad at the change of topic.
"But how were you able to escape him?"
Cerridwen debated whether it was wise to tell the persistent young woman in front of her the whole truth. Not only about the fact that she used her powers as a priestess but also that Branagan had actually set her free. In the end she decided it wouldn't be wise at all. "Branagan was being attacked by Arnak and his group of assassins. He was too distracted so I used that opportunity to escape."
From the dubious expression on the other woman's face it was clear that she failed miserably in convincing her. Well, it was her first attempt at lying. She wasn't exactly expected to get it right the first time around, was she? Besides, it mattered little to her actually if she was believed or not.
"Exactly where are you taking me, anyway?" It was her way of diverting Raven's attention away from her miserable attempt at deception. However, the woman, again, gave her an expression that seemed to say, "nice try, rookie."
"Only Sephram knows," Raven replied after giving her an eyeful. "The heated discussion you hear outside are the others complaining about not knowing the entire plan." She paused, looking the red-haired teenager in the eye. "Maybe you know."
Cerridwen frowned. "How should I know?"
Raven stood, brushing her knees of sand and then straightened. She looked down on the princess. "I think perhaps our leader revealed his plans to you because frankly, I think he likes you."
"Likes me?" It had come as a genuine surprise.
"Yes, Your Highness. I think perhaps that you are exactly his type." With a smirk, the female assassin turned on her heel and exited the tent, leaving the princess with some troubling thoughts.
Cerridwen watched helplessly as Raven disappeared. She wanted to know more. How could Branagan like her? But what was more surprising...and disturbing at the same time was that the knowledge actually pleased her.
---
He had never ridden a peco peco so fast and hard and so long before. Until now, he had no idea that these flightless birds had this kind of speed and stamina. Branagan calculated that they must have traveled more than ten hours straight, covering a distance of more than four hundred miles. The goal was to reach Geffen by midday the next day. By his estimation, they were just past the halfway mark. They had long left Sograt Desert and were now deep into the thick jungles of Prontera.
Branagan heard the shrill shrieks of the gryphon high above the canopy of trees. He didn't bother to look up anymore. Feral had been flying back and forth through the convoy several times that the flapping sound and high pitched cries of the large bird he was riding was now commonplace.
He shook his head in disdain. He thought the knight to be extremely foolish to ride it. A creature like that could never be domesticated. He had encountered the gryphon only once before deep in the marsh lands of Comodo. At that time, his guild was contracted to protect a caravan of merchants on their way to the Pleasure Island. He had lost two good guild members in that encounter. Feral was risking not only his life but the lives of the others under his command. And all that to inflate his already bloated ego.
His eyes wandered to the knights that were closely flanking him, riding their respective peco pecos equally hard. He already knew there was another directly behind him as well. All three were obviously under strict orders to make sure he stayed in line. As if three knights posed a significant threat to him.
His mind didn't really dwell on it though. His thoughts were centered on a certain spirited young woman with long red hair and brilliant green eyes...
---
Vinen cursed himself repeatedly. Glancing to his right he could see the other fifteen-year-olds in the distance, magician apprentices just like himself, successfully able to call down shards of deadly ice spikes from the heavens. He, on other hand, couldn't call down a single firebolt from the sky.
He wanted to be an ice wizard just like many of his classmates but his master strongly recommended that he focus on becoming a fire wizard. "Your temperament is unsuited for the ice element," he remembered his master saying. Bah! He thought that being--
Just then, Vinen heard a thrashing in the foliage to his right. So startled was he that he dropped his wooden apprentice's rod. Oh no! He hurriedly bent to pick it up. When he looked up, what he thought might have been a ferocious beast turned out to be a girl, probably his age, just standing there in tattered and torn clothing. Her light brown hair was unkempt with bits of twigs and leaves sticking out everywhere. Her face was smudged with dirt and her arms and legs were covered in scratches, bruises and other unknown but severe injuries. Vinen could only gape at her.
After several heartbeats, the girl uttered a single word: "Help." And then she collapsed.
---
Feral stared morosely at his mug of bitter ale. He sat alone in a crowded and noisy tavern within the town of Geffen. He couldn't even remember the name of the establishment. His men would not be arriving for another two hours or so. Flying in a gryphon was indeed so much faster. It was landing and restraining it that was such a chore. This time he had to hire the help of two wizards who were successfully able to freeze the damn creature long enough to tie it down.
Feral cast a bored eye around the tavern. Geffen hadn't changed that much since he was last here. It was still small and still filled with people who believed in superstitious nonsense. They didn't even have a decent armory here.
Well, no matter. He was going to stay here only as long as it would take to rest the men, and water and feed their mounts. Then it would take another night's travel north towards the abandoned coal mines in Mt. Mjolnir. To rescue Cerridwen. His grip on the mug tightened considerably.
Cerridwen. He could still remember the first time they had met. He had just gotten permission from the King to woo his just-turned-sixteen daughter. He could remember being so ecstatic he could hardly contain and control himself in front of the father.
Their first meeting was in the palace courtyard...
---
"My Lord," Cerridwen said by way of greeting as she curtsied deeply, her head bowed.
Feral gazed at the young beauty before him. It was a simple but elegant green and white gown she wore made of the finest silk befitting a princess. Although the gown covered most her, the material clung to her slender figure. Her red tresses were loose instead of the usual braid she wore when she presented herself in public. On her head was thin banded tiara decked with the crown jewels.
It was a pleasure to gaze upon her. He had waited almost two years until she was sixteen before being able to officially court the princess.
"M'lady," he greeted in turn, bowing reverently. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."
"Not at all, Lord Feral," she said.
"Please," he gestured towards a round marble table with two ornate cushioned chairs on opposite sides. It was near the fountain at the center of the cobbled courtyard. The princess nodded and allowed herself to be led towards them. The knight held the chair as she sat. He then crossed to the other chair and sat. Cerridwen held her delicate hands together on her lap as she looked at him expectantly.
"To what do I owe this honor, my lord?"
"Oh, yes," Feral reached under the table and picked up a box wrapped in paper. He placed this on the table in front of her. "Happy birthday, Princess. I deeply regret not being able to join the festivities two days ago."
He saw her eyes light up at the sight of the gift. "May I?"
"Please."
Cerridwen smiled brightly and proceeded to carefully unwrap the gift. She lifted the object, turning it around as she inspected it. It was heart-shaped, the size of her palm, red, smooth and translucent. In the center was a pulsing light. It was also warm to the touch. "It is exquisite, my lord. What is it?" Her green eyes landed on his dark brown ones briefly to ask the question and then focused once more on the stone.
He was pleased to see that she liked the gift. "It's called a flame heart. Although that one is smaller than the usual. I've had it made especially for you."
"Well, I can see that it's neither a necklace nor a brooch. What does one do with a flame heart?"
"Typically, a flame heart is a component used for the forging of fire elemental weapons. But that," pointing idly at the one between her fingers, "is a keepsake, a token of my affection."
All of a sudden the girl stiffened and stopped toying with the object. She looked at him warily. "Affection?"
"Yes, your father gave me permission to court you."
"He did?"
"Yes, m'lady. I have been enamored of you since you were only fourteen."
"You have?"
"I fully intend to visit you, daily, if I can..."
"Daily?"
"Yes, Princess, so you can get to know me better and--are you alright? You seem a little pale."
"Oh, I'm alright. Just...ah...I'm just a little...uhm...will you please excuse me, my lord," she started to rise.
Feral stood as well. "Is something the matter, m'lady?"
"Yes...no! I just...ah...need to speak to my father and...," she uttered something he could barely understand.
"I'm sorry, m'lady, but I didn't quite hear what you said but it sounded like 'wring his neck'."
She laughed nervously. "No, no! I meant that I think I forgot my ring and necklace."
Feral watched as Cerridwen walked away. "Shall I wait for you, Princess?"
She gave an ambiguous wave of a hand without looking back.
"Very well, m'lady. I shall wait for you here." But the girl was already beyond hearing distance.
---
She didn't return. Feral slammed the mug down on the wooden table after taking a long swig. It was the King himself that came to him that evening. He could even remember that he wore a silly-looking scarf around his neck.
Be patient with her, the King had suggested. He excused his daughter's behavior with a "you know how girls are." Actually he didn't but he wasn't about to argue with the King.
The succeeding visits had been more encouraging though. Cerridwen now even allowed his hand to linger on hers a bit longer after assisting her down carriages for instance. He even--
"Lord Feral."
He turned sharply to the right to find a gangly boy kneeling on one knee and bowing his head before him. "Yes, what is it, boy?"
"Begging your pardon, my lord, but earlier today we found a girl who goes by the name Eranelle and--"
"Eranelle? Eranelle...now where did I hear that name before...?"
"Well, sir, she found out you and your warriors were here and well--"
And then it hit him. Faemie mentioned that Branagan's sister went by the name Eranelle. How could the assassin's sister be here? He quickly stood. "Take me to her, at once!"
The noise in the tavern died suddenly as all the patrons focused on the First Knight. The boy was nearly knocked down in fright. "Y-yes, of course, my lord!" He scrambled to his feet and out the exit with the marching Feral in tow.
---
"May I see her now?" Vinen asked the acolyte eagerly as she emerged from the room. It had been nearly eight hours since he carried the strange girl more than four miles to the infirmary in Geffen.
"For the hundredth time, Vinen, she is still unconscious!" the acolyte was clearly exasperated but the young apprentice magician would not be deterred.
"But it's been eight hours!"
"I swear, Vinen, I've almost had it with you--"
"Please!" he begged plaintively.
The acolyte let out a breath of resignation. "Alright, alright! But make it brief." She opened the door slowly and peeked inside. After ensuring that the girl was still decently tucked under the blanket, opened the door wider to let in the audacious youth.
Vinen bounded through the door much to the acolyte's consternation. He approached the bed cautiously. The girl he saw lying peacefully on the bed took his breath away. He didn't realize that beneath the dirt and grime was a pretty face. Her light brown hair, which he originally thought was of a darker hue, fanned out on her pillow like an ornate crown. He felt a surge of pride in him. He actually rescued this girl!
The girl's eyes started to flutter open. And suddenly she bolted upright causing the blanket to fall away revealing--
Vinen quickly shut his eyes tightly, covered his eyes with his hands and turned away. "Uhm, m'lady? You're...uhm...the blanket...?"
"Why, in the pits, am I naked?" she demanded loudly, her voice, he was sure, carried beyond the door.
Sure enough the door burst open revealing one fuming acolyte. The young magician apprentice parted the fingers covering his eyes to see the acolyte's level of rage. He winced as he saw the expression on her face. She took one look at her patient and another at him, and Vinen knew he wouldn't like the conclusion she had arrive at.
Vinen opened his mouth to protest but was surprised when the girl spoke up.
"He didn't do anything, ma'am," the girl said, securing the way the blanket wrapped around her. "It was my fault."
Vinen almost laughed at the way the acolyte's jaw just dropped in disbelief.
"You don't have to pretend covering your eyes anymore."
It took the boy a while to realize that the girl was talking to him. "I wasn't pretending!"
"Well, whatever. I'm already decent," she took another look at herself and changed her mind. "Well, I guess as decent as I can be in a blanket."
The apprentice grinned but immediately wiped it off his face upon seeing the acolyte's scowl.
"We have a change of clothing for you," the acolyte said, her face miraculously transforming from an ugly and angry old hag to a kind and compassionate young nurse.
"That would be very kind of you. Thank you." She turned to regard Vinen as the acolyte left to fetch fresh clothing. "You're the one who brought me here, yes?"
"Yes, I did."
"I am in Geffen?"
"Yes, you are."
"Then I am in your debt."
Embarrassed, the boy laughed it off. "It was really noth--"
"I need one more favor."
He turned serious. "Anything."
---
They were all gathered in the infirmary to hear Eranelle's account of what had happened. Feral's mouth hung slightly open as the fifteen-year-old sister of the assassin, Branagan, recounted her abduction, her captivity, her eventual escape, from the sorceress Tatiana, no less, and her passage through the treacherous mountain ranges of Mjolnir. It was truly impressive, to say the least. Either that or this girl was an excellent liar, which he seriously doubted.
He shook his head after Eranelle concluded her story. "That's quite an ordeal you went through, young lady. You were very brave to have endured such hardship and danger," he said meaningfully. "But I need to hear more about this Dark Lord you spoke of. What does he want with Princess Cerridwen?"
---
Eranelle hesitated, a tortured grimace on her face. She looked up at her inquisitor, almost pleading that she not have to relive the memory of a beast so horrible that she would rather sooner forget.
"Eranelle? Eranelle!"
Eranelle's eyes went wide. That was her brother's voice. She abruptly stood and whirled around. "Brother!"
Branagan ran towards her and she rushed to meet him. The assassin scooped his younger sister in his arms and lifted her into a tight hug. There were tears in Branagan's eyes.
"I didn't think I'd see you again!"
Eranelle pushed herself from her brother, presenting her tear-stained face as well. "Well, I'm not quite the weakling you make me out to be!" she exclaimed in mock anger.
Branagan put her down gently and held her by the shoulders, looking deeply in her eyes, his frown deepening. "You...you escaped?"
She could only nod in response.
Her brother let out a cry of anguish and pulled her into another tight hug. "You stupid girl. I knew you'd try such a foolhardy thing. I prayed hard you wouldn't. You stupid, stupid girl. You could have gotten yourself killed!"
---
It was only after Branagan became aware of the fact that everyone was watching and waiting for him did he let go of his little sister. He gave her a brave smile and touched her cheek, wiping her tears away. Then he stood, facing Feral. The assassin's expression turned hard and his eyes became cold.
"We've got a princess to rescue and a sorceress to kill."
Feral's eyes bored into his. They were testing each other's mettle. The First Knight finally nodded.
"Yes, we do."
---
Cerridwen stared at the dark and forbidding entrance of the coal mine. It was close to midnight when they arrived. It was really cold; it was the kind that seemed alive and was voraciously feeding on anyone or anything generating warmth. The long black coat she wore over her body suit did very little to protect her from the invasive chill. She turned to the girl next to her just in time to see her shudder. Was it because it was cold or was she also frightened by the same sight?
"Looks really scary," she said, providing the answer.
The princess let out a breath. "Yes, it is," she said, facing forward again looking into the blackness of the mine. She was drawn to it somehow, as if something was beckoning her to enter. She took one step forward but felt the tug of the chain on her wrist. It was then she remembered that she was cuffed to the female assassin.
"Easy there, Princess," Raven whispered gently, pulling her back some more. "There's nothing in there...except evil."
It was Cerridwen's turn to shudder. What possessed her to even want to enter?
Sephram chose that moment to approach them. "We break camp here."
"Sephram, I don't think this is a good idea."
"Don't interfere, Raven. Branagan made a deal--"
"Branagan would never make this deal!"
"--and this guild always honors its deals," he narrowed his eyes at Raven dangerously but the latter didn't back down. Sephram ignored the implied challenge. "Make sure to secure her." "Her" was Cerridwen, of course.
Raven looked a Cerridwen mournfully after Sephram had left.
The young princess smiled at the other, putting up a brave front. "Don't worry, Raven," she said. "Everything will be okay." She cast a wary eye at the coal mine entrance. Branagan, if you are still alive, she prayed, you had better get me out of this mess you put me in...