Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 167

He asked, “Milady, does something ail thee?” as he
urged his horse back towards the tree. His proper
speech and curtesye were quite befitting a chivalric
knight. She wondered how far she could get behind
this wall of courtliness and what she would find there.
As a small child standing next to her parents in the
castle courtyard, Rhiannon had been awed by the sight
of the knights in their full armor standing in ranks to
pledge their fealty to her father. When she had first
seen Sir Gwydion striding up to her father, his helmet
under his arm and the emblem of the lord’s champion
over his blue and gold surcoat, a whirlwind of adoration filled her. He was, to her, the perfect knight. The
little girl tore her gaze away to find her mother, whose
hand she was holding, staring down at her, a peculiar
knowing look on her face, as if her mother sensed
something through their clasped hands.
“We must take this path, sir knight,” she answered,
and pointed to the right.
He took the helmet off again along with one gauntlet
so he could run his hand through his flattened hair.
“Milady, it was my intent to take you to my father’s
castle. You will be quite safe there, and my mother
and her handmaidens will be able to attend to your
needs. You will be comfortable.” He smiled at her
then, and she was dazzled, as when she was a child.
“My mother will be happy to see you. You would be
wonderful company for her as well. She was quite
heartbroken to lose your mother, her very good friend,
all those years ago. She will be delighted to see that
you have grown into a lady yourself.” He bowed his
head respectfully towards her.
“That would be lovely, sir. However,” Rhiannon
interjected quickly, as he had begun to turn his horse
away, “I am afraid I must visit at another time. It is
imperative that we take this path.”
“And why is that?” he asked, with genuine curiosity.
Rhiannon was pleased that he was neither condescending nor sarcastic in response to her questioning
his judgment.
“It is not just my safety that is at stake, but the
safe-keeping of that which I carry.”

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“Your book?” His eyes moved to the pack fastened
to the saddle of her horse. He barked a short laugh.
“How could a book be more important than your own
self?” He shook his grizzled head. “Listen to reason,
child…”
Rhiannon spoke sharply. “I am not a child anymore,
Sir Gwydion.”
That gave him pause. His own intensely green eyes
stared into the blue ones she inherited from her father,
and he considered the regal set of her jaw, the tilt of
her head, her arching eyebrows and the plait of hair
that encircled her head like a crown. She played at
being a great lady no longer. “Indeed,” he said slowly, “you are not.” He took a deep breath, holding her
gaze. “Lady Rhiannon, I beg you to reconsider. I
have pledged to your father to do all I can to ensure
your safety. In my best judgment you will be safest at
my family’s stronghold. Maelogan will have his attention focused here. It will not behoove him to take the
added time to double back to my home to seek you.
We cannot stay on your father’s lands.”
“I appreciate your explanation, sir,” she said, dipping her head in acknowledgement of the gentilesse
in which he treated her, “but I have a sacred charge
and duty to fulfill, and I must travel in this direction
to do so, with or without your protection. So, what
say you?” Rhiannon inwardly held her breath, aware
of the slight imperial edge to her tone and wondering
how he would react. He could force her to his will,
or abandon her, and all would be for naught. But the
respectful way in which he had just spoken to her gave
her hope.
Gwydion stared at her for some time. The drooping
branches of the willow brushed against her cloak, and
the sun coming out from a cloud set her bound hair
ablaze. A sense of calm and rightness stole over him
as he looked into the blue depths of the lady’s eyes.
“What is in that direction?” he finally asked.
“The Ruins of DragonsGate.”
~3~