Lawhead, Stephen - Song Of Albion 3 - The Endless Knot

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Hear, 0 Son of Albion, the prophetic word:

Sorrow and be sad, deep grief is granted Albion in triple measure. The Golden King in his kingdom

will strike his foot against the Rock of Contention. The Worm of fiery breath will claim the

throne of Prydain; Llogres will be without a lord. But happy shall be Caledon; the Flight of

Ravens will flock to her many-shadowed glens, and ravensong shall be her song.

When the Light of the Derwyddi is cut off, and the blood of bards demands justice, then let the

Ravens spread their wings over the sacred wood and holy mound. Under Ravens' wings, a throne is

established. Upon this throne, a king with a silver hand.

!n the Day of Strife, root and branch shall change places, and the newness of the thing shall pass

for a wonder. Let the sun be dull as amber, let the moon hide her face: abomination stalks the

land. Let the four winds contend with one another in dreadful blast; let the sound be heard among

the stars. The Dust of the Ancients will rise on the clouds; the essence of Albion is scattered

and torn among contending winds.

The seas will rise up with mighty voices. Nowhere is there safe harbor. Arianrhod sleeps in her

sea-girt headland. Though many seek her, she will not be found. Though many cry out to her, she

cannot hear their voices. Only the chaste kiss will restore her to her rightfulplace.

Then shall rage the Giant of Wickedness, and terrify all with the keen edge of his sword. His eyes

will flash forth fire; his lips shall drip poison. With his great host he will despoil the island.

All who oppose him will be swept away in the flood of wrongdoing

Dark Flames

A. fire rages in Albion. A strange, hidden fire, dark-flamed, invisible to the eye. Seething and

churning, it burns, gathering flames of darkness into its hot black heart. Unseen and unknown, it

burns.

These flames of darkness are insatiable; they grow, greedy in their spreading, consuming all,

destroying all. Though the flames cannot be seen, the heat scorches and singes, searing flesh and

bone alike; it saps the strength, and withers the will. It blisters virtue, corrodes courage; it

turns love and honor to hard, dark embers.

The dark fire is an evil and ancient enemy, older than the Earth. II has no face, no body, limbs,

or members to be engaged and fought, much less quenched and conquered. Only flames, insidious

tongues, and hidden dark sparks that blow and scatter, blow and scatter on every fretful wind.

And nothing can endure the dark fire. Nothing can stand against the relentless, scathing

corruption of the unseen flames. It will not be extinguished until all that exists in this worlds-

realm is dead cold ash.

The oxhide at the door rippled as Tegid Tathal stepped into the hut. His quick eyes searched the

darkness; he could see again. His blindness had been healed, or at least transmuted somehow into

vision by the renewing waters of the lake. For he saw me sitting in

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

the straw on the floor, and he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Thinking," I replied, flexing the fingers of my silver hand one by one. That hand! Beauty made

tangible in fine, flawless silver. A treasure of value beyond imagining. A gift to me-a warrior's

compensation, perhaps-from a deity with a most peculiar sense of humor. Most peculiar.

Tegid assures me that it is the gift of Dagda Samil4anac, the Swift Sure Hand himself. He says it

is the fulfillment of a promise made by the lord of the grove. The Swift Sure Hand, by his

messenger, granted Tegid his inner sight, and gave me my silver hand.

Tegid observed me curiously while my thoughts drifted. "And what are you thinking about?" he said

at last.

"About this," I raised my metal hand. "And fire," I told him. "Dark fire."

He accepted this without question. "They are waiting for you outside. Your people want to see

their king."

"I had to get away for a while. I had to think."

The sound of merrymaking was loud outside; the victory celebration would continue for days. The

Great Hound Meldron was defeated and his followers brought to justice, the drought was broken, and

the land restored. The happiness of the survivors knew no bounds.

I did not share their happiness, however. For the very thing that secured their safety and gave

wings to their joy meant that my sojourn in Albion had come to an end. My task was finished and I

must leave--though every nerve and sinew in me cried against leaving.

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Tegid moved nearer and, so that he would not be speaking down to me, knelt. "What is wrong?"

Before I could answer, the oxhide lifted once again and Professor Nettleton entered. He

acknowledged Tegid gravely, and turned to me. "It is time to go," he said simply.

When I made no reply, he continued, "Liew, we have discussed this. We agreed. It must be done-and

the sooner the better. Waiting

SONG OF ALBION

will only make it worse."

Tegid, regarding the small man closely, said, "He is our king. As Aird Rig/i of Albion it is his

right-"

"Please, Tegid." Nettleton shook his head slowly, his mouth pressed into a firm line. He stepped

nearer and stared down at me. "It is permitted no man to stay in the Otherworid. You know that.

You came to find Simon and take him back, and you have done that. Your work is finished here. It

is time to go home."

He was right; I knew it. Still, the thought of leaving cut me to the heart. I could not go. Back

there I was nothing; I had no life. A mediocre foreign student, a graduate scholar woefully

deficient in almost every human essential, lacking the companionship of men and the love of a

woman; a perpetual academic with no purpose in life save to scrounge the next grant and hold off

the day of reckoning, to elude life beyond the cocooning walls of Oxford's cloisters.

The only real life I had ever known was here in Albion. To leave would be to die, and I could not

face that.

"But I have something more to do here," I countered, almost desperately. "I must have-otherwise,

why give me this?" I lifted

my silver hand; the cold metal appendage gleamed dully in the darkness of the hut, the intricate

tracery of its finely wrought surface glowing gold against the soft white of silver.

"Come," the professor said, reaching down to pull me up. "Do not make it more difficult than it

already is. Let us go now, and quietly."

I rose to my feet and followed him out of the hut. Tegid followed, saying nothing. Before us the

celebration fire blazed, the flames leaping high in the gathering dusk. All around the fire people

rejoiced; snatches of song reached us amid the happy tumult. We had not taken two steps when we

were met by Goewyn carrying a jar in one hand and a cup in the other. Behind her a maid carried a

plate with bread and meat.

"I thought you might be hungry and thirsty," she explained quickly, and began pouring the ale into

the cup. She handed the cup to me, saying, "I am sorry, but this is all I was able to save for

you. It is the last."

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

"Thank you," I said. As I took the cup, I allowed my fingers to linger upon her hand. Goewyn

smiled and I knew I could not leave without telling her what was in my heart.

"Goewyn, I must tell you-" I began. But before I could finish, a pack of jubilant warriors swarmed

in, clamoring for me to come and join them in the celebration. Goewyn and the maid were pushed

aside.

"Llew! Liew!" the warriors cried. "Hail, Silver Hand!" One of them held a haunch of meat which he

offered to me and would not desist until I had taken a healthy bite from it. Another saw my cup in

my hand and poured ale from his own cup into mine. "~9iinte, Silver Hand!" they cried, and we

drank.

The warriors seemed intent on carrying me away with them, but Tegid intervened, explaining that I

wished to walk among the people to enjoy the festivity. He asked them to guard the king's peace by

removing any who would disturb me, beginning with themselves.

As the warriors went their noisy way, Cynan appeared. "Llew!" he cried, clapping a big hand upon

my shoulder. "At last! I have been looking for you, brother. Here! Drink with me!" He raised his

bowl high. "We drink to your kingship. May your reign be long and glorious!"

With that he poured ale from his bowl into my already full cup.

"And may our cups always overflow!" I added, as mine was spilling over my hand at that moment.

Cynan laughed. We drank, and before he could replenish my cup, I passed it quickly to Tegid.

"I thought we had long since run out of ale," I said. "I had no idea we had so much left."

"This is the last," Cynan remarked, peering into his bowl. "And when it is gone, we will have long

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to wait for fields to be tilled and grain to grow. But this day," he laughed again, "this day, we

have everything we need!" Cynan, with his fiery red hair and blue eyes agleam with delight and the

contents of his cup, was so full of life- and so happy to be that way after the terrible events of

the last days-that I laughed out loud with him. I laughed, even though my heart felt like a stone

in my chest.

SONG OF ALBION

"Better than that, brother," I told him, "we are free men and alive!"

"So we are!" Cynan cried. He threw his arm around my neck and pulled me to him in a sweaty

embrace. We clung to one another, and I breathed a silent, sad farewell to my swordbrother.

Bran and several Ravens came upon us then, saluted me and hailed me king, pledging their undying

loyalty. And while they were about it, the two kings, Calbha and Cynfarch, approached. "I give you

good greeting," said Calbha. "May your reign ever continue as it has begun."

"May you prosper through all things," Cynfarch added, "and may victory crown your every battle."

I thanked them and, as I excused myself from their presence, I glimpsed Goewyn moving off. Calbha

saw my eyes straying after her, and said, "Go to her, Liew. She is waiting for you. Go."

I stepped quickly away. "Tegid, you and Nettles ready a boat. I will join you in a moment."

Professor Nettleton glanced at the darkening sky and said, "Go if you must, but hurry, LIew! The

time-between-times will not wait."

I caught Goewyn as she passed between two houses. "Come with me," I said quickly. "I must talk to

you."

She made no reply, but put down the jar and extended her hand. I took it and led her between the

cluster of huts to the perimeter of the crannog. We slipped through the shadows along the timber

wall of the fortress, and out through the untended gates.

Goewyn remained silent while I fumbled after the words I wanted to say. Now that I had her

attention, I did not know where to begin. She watched me, her eyes large and dark in the fading

light, her flaxen hair glimmering like spun silver, her skin pale as ivory. The slender torc shone

like a circle of light at her throat. Truly, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known.

"What is the matter?" she asked after a moment. "If there is anything that makes you unhappy, then

change it. You are the king now. It is for you to say what will be."

"It seems to me," I told her sadly, "that there are some things

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

even a king cannot change."

"What is the matter, Llew?" she asked again.

I hesitated. She leaned nearer, waiting for my answer. I looked at her, lovely in the fading

light.

"I love you, Goewyn," I said.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "And it is this that makes you so unhappy?" she said

lightly, and leaned closer, raising hr arms and lacing her fingers behind my head. "I love you,

too. There. Now we can be miserable together."

I felt her warm breath on my face. I wanted to take her in my arms ar.d kiss her. I burned with

the urge. Instead, I turned my face aside.

"Goewyn, I would ask you to be my queen."

"And if you asked," she said, speaking softly and low, "I would agree-as I have agreed in my heart

a thousand times already."

Her voice... I could live within that voice. I could exist on it alone, lose myself completely,

content to know nothing but the beauty of that voice.

My mouth went dry and I fought to swallow the clot of sand that suidenly clogged my throat.

"Goewyn... I-"

"Llew?" She had caught the despair in my tone.

"Goewyn, I cannot... I cannot be king. I cannot ask you to be my queen."

She straightened and pulled away. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I cannot stay in Albion. I must leave. I must go back to .~ny own world."

"I do not understand."

"I do not belong here," I began-badly, it is true, but once begun,

I was afraid to stop. "This is not my world, Goewyn. I am an intruder;

I have no right to be here. It is true. I only came here because of

Sinon. He-"

"Simon?" she asked, the name strange on her tongue.

"Siawn Hy," I explained. "His name in our world is Simon. He caine here and I came after him. I

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came to take him back-- and now that is done and I have to leave. Now, tonight. I will not see you

any mcre after--"

SONG OF ALBION

Goewyn did not speak; but I could see that she did not understand a word I was saying. I drew a

deep breath and blundered on. "All the trouble, everything that has happened here in Albion-all

the death and destruction, the slaughter of the bards, the wars, Prydain's desolation... all the

terrible things that have happened here-it is all Simon's fault."

"All these things are Siawn Hy's doing?" she wondered, incredulously.

"I am not explaining very well," I admitted. "But it is true. Ask Tegid; he will tell you the

same. Siawn Hy brought ideas with him- ideas of such cunning and wickedness that he poisoned all

Albion with them. Meldron believed in Siawn's ideas, and look what happened."

"I do not know about that. But I know that Albion was not destroyed. And it was not destroyed,"

Goewyn pointed out, "because you were here to stop it. But for you, Siawn Hy and Meldron would

have reigned over Albion's destruction."

"Then you see why I cannot let it happen again."

"I see," she stated firmly, "that you must stay to prevent it from happening again."

She saw me hesitate and pressed her argument further. "Yes, stay. As king it is your right and

duty." She paused and smiled. "Stay here and reign over Albion's healing."

She knew the words I wanted to hear most in all the world, and she said them. Yes, I could stay in

Albion, I thought. I could be king and reign with Goewyn as my queen. Professor Nettleton was

wrong, surely; and Goewyn was right: as king it was my duty to make certain that the healing of

Albion continued as it had begun. I could stay!

Goewyn tilted her head to one side. "What say you, my love?"

"Goewyn, I will stay. If there is a way, I will stay for ever. Be my queen. Reign with me."

She came into my arms then in a rush, and her lips were on mine, warm and soft. The fragrance of

her hair filled my lungs and made me light-headed. I held her tight and kissed her; I kissed her

ivory

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

throat, her silken eyelids, her warm moist lips that tasted of honey and wild flowers. And she

kissed me.

I had dreamed of this moment countless times, yearned for it, longed for it. Truly, I wanted

nothing more than to make love to Goewyn. I held the yielding warmth of her flesh against me and

knew that I would stay--as if there had ever been any doubt.

"Wait for me," I said, breaking off the embrace and stepping quickly away.

"Where are you going?" she called after me.

"Nettles is leaving. He is waiting for me," I answered. "I must bid him farewell."

Darting along the timber wall, I hurried to join Tegid and Professor Nettleton in the boat. I gave

the boat a push and jumped in; Tegid manned the oars and rowed out across the lake. The water was

smooth as glass in the gathering twilight, reflecting the last light of the deep blue sky above.

We made our landing below Druim Vran, and quickly put our feet to the path leading to Tegid's

sacred grove. With every step, I invented a new argument or excuse to justify my decision to stay.

In truth, I had never wanted to leave anyway; it felt wrong to me. Goewyn's urging was only the

last in a long list of reasons I had to dismiss Professor Nettleton's better judgment. He would

just have to accept my decision.

The grove was silent, the light dim, as we stepped within the leafy sanctuary. Tegid wasted not a

moment, but began marking out a circle on the ground with the end of his staff. He walked

backwards in a sunwise circle, chanting in a voice solemn and low. I did not hear what he said-it

was in the Dark Tongue of the Derwyddi, the Ta ran Tafod.

Standing next to Nettles, my mind teemed with accusation, guilt, and self-righteous indignation -I

was the king! I had built this place! Who had the right to stay here if not me? ----I could not

make myself

Three Demands

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

say the word~s. I stood in seething silence and watched Tegid prepare our departurce.

Upon coimpleting the simple ceremony, the bard stepped from the circle he had inscribed and turned

to us. "All is ready." He looked at me as he spo)ke. I saw sorrow in his gaze, but he spoke no

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word of farewell. The~ parting was too painful for him.

The proffessor took a step towards the circle, but I remained rooted to my~ place. When he sensed

me lagging behind, Nettleton looked back over his shoulder. Seeing that I had made not the

slightest movie to join him, he said, "Come, Lewis."

"I am nota going with you," I said dully. It was not what I had planned to say, but the words were

out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Lewis!" he challenged, turning on me. "Think what you are doing."

"I cannott leave like this, Nettles. It is too soon."

He took rmy arm, gripping it tightly. "Lewis, listen to me. Listen very carefull1y. If you love

Albion, then you must leave. If you stay, you can only' bring about the destruction of all you

have saved. You must see thatt. I have told you: it is permitted no man-"

I cut himt off. "I will take that risk, Nettles."

"The riskc is not yours to take!" he charged, his voice explosive in the silence off the grove.

Exasperated, he blinked his eyes behind his round glasse~s. "Think what you are doing, Lewis. You

have achieved the impossibile. Your work here is finished. Do not negate all the good you have

dome. I beg you, Lewis, to reconsider."

"It is the time-between-times," Tegid said softly.

"I am st2aying," I muttered bluntly. "If you are going, you had better leave mow."

Seeing th~at he could not move me, he turned away in frustration and stepped (quickly into the

circle. At once, his body seemed to fade and grow snnaller, as if he were entering a long tunnel.

"Say your farewells, Lewis," he urged desperately, "and come as soon as you can. I will wait for

you."

"Farewelil, my friend!" called Tegid.

SONG OF ALBION

"Please, for the sake of all you hold dear, do not put it off too long!" Nettleton called, his

voice already dwindling away. His image rippled as if he were standing behind a sheet of water.

The rims of his glasses glinted as he turned away, and then he vanished, his words hanging in the

still air as a quickly-fading warning.

Tegid came to stand beside me. "Well, brother," I said, "it would seem you must endure my presence

a little longer."

The bard gazed into the now-empty circle. He seemed to be peering into the emptiness of the nether

realm, his features dark and his eyes remote. I thought he would not speak, but then he lifted his

staff. "Before Albion is One," he said, his voice hard with certainty, "the Hero Feat must be

performed and Silver Hand must reign."

The words were from the Banfdith's prophecy, and, as he reminded me from time to time, they had

yet to prove false. Having delivered himself of this pronouncement, he turned to me. "The choice

is made."

"What if I made the wrong choice?"

"I can always send you back," he replied, and I could sense his relief. Tegid had not wanted to

see me leave any more than I had wanted to go.

"True," I said, my heart lightening a little. Of course, I could return any time I chose to, and I

would go-when the work I had begun was completed. I would go one day. But not now; not yet.

I forced that prospect from my mind, soothing my squirming conscience with sweet

self~justification: after all I had endured, I well deserved my small portion of happiness. Who

could deny it? Besides, there was still a great deal to be done. I would stay to see Albion

restored.

Yes, and I would marry Goewyn.

Word of our betrothal spread through Dinas Dwr swifter than a shout. Tegid and I arrived at the

hall, and walked into the ongoing celebration which, with the coming of darkness, had taken on a

fresh, almost giddy, euphoria. The great room seemed filled with light and sound: the hearthfire

roared and the timber walls were lined with

STEPHEN LAWHEAD

torches; men and women lined the benches and thronged in noisy clusters around the pillar-posts.

Only the head of the hail, the west end, remained quiet and empty, for here the Chief Bard had

established the Singing Stones in their wooden chest supported by a massive iron stand-safe under

perpetual guard: three warriors to watch over Albion's chief treasure at all times. The guards

were replaced at intervals by other warriors, so that the duty was shared out among the entire

warband. But at no time, day or night, were the miraculous stones unprotected.

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file:///G|/rah/Stephen%20Lawhead%20-%20Song%20Of%20Albion%203%20-%20The%20Endless%20Knot.txtHear,0SonofAlbion,thepropheticword:Sorrowandbesad,deepgriefisgrantedAlbionintriplemeasure.TheGoldenKinginhiskingdomwillstrikehisfootagainsttheRockofContention.TheWormoffieryb eathwillclaimthethroneofPrydai...

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Lawhead, Stephen - Song Of Albion 3 - The Endless Knot

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