Dragon's Dream

by Mary Gillgannon

  A part of her hated them for chaining her spirit to this world, for preventing her from pursuing the knowledge she sought. Even Arianhrodd failed her. The priestess had suggested she was not ready, that she was too weak and vulnerable to undertake the journey. It was a galling thought, especially knowing that Arianhrodd had aided Maelgwn in his quest.

  Rhiannon shook her head. She must let go of the anger, she must be open and searching, or the Goddess would not come to her.

  She looked around the moonlit beach. She had almost died here, along the coast near Degannwy. Instead, the Goddess sent her back among the living. What did it mean? What was her purpose? She glanced up at the moon, the Mother's face—peaceful, benevolent, changeless. Stretching her arms upwards, she felt the longing, the hunger humming through her. She wanted to know, to understand.

  With quick impatient fingers, she undid her long braids and combed through her streaming hair. It fell heavy upon her back and shoulders as she stared again at the sky, basking in the moonlight. There was nothing between her and the Goddess now. Nothing except the thin fabric of her worn gown. She stripped it off and gloried for a moment in the gleam of her bare, white skin. Now, she was free.

  The sand of the beach was soft and yielding beneath her feet. The moonlight danced on the waves before her, making sparkling patterns. She could hear music in the sea tonight. Above the pulsing beat of the surf, was another sound, a wild keening melody. It sought her out and pulled her nearer. There, down beneath the thrashing waves, the spirits called her to another realm. She remembered the first time she had walked into the sea and felt the enticing rhythm of the tide sucking her down. The ocean was the Mother's womb, safe, lulling, promising endless contentment.

  If she dared, she could journey down to the very bottom of the sea itself, the place where the spirits lived. She had been very close before, once, twice. This time she would not fail. She would not turn back until she had gone to the very center of the bright light that awaited her on the other side.

  The water was cold, numbingly so. Rhiannon took deep breaths, and walked further into the waves. The water felt dark and heavy, as if the gleaming moonlight only touched the surface. The reality beneath was deep, inexorable, grinding power. The Goddess was very strong, Rhiannon thought, to rule this massive, formless force that was the sea.

  The sand shifted beneath her feet, and Rhiannon nearly lost her footing. She righted herself and whispered the Goddess's name, calling upon the Great Mother to protect her. Everywhere was the scent of the sea, the raw salty odor of blood and birth. The waves rose higher. They were almost to Rhiannon's neck now. There was nothing behind her, nothing she wanted more than this. She let herself float. Soon she would reach the bottom; the magic place, the sacred place, the source of life itself.

  Cynraith's hooves made a soft thudding sound on the muddy trackway as Maelgwn headed towards the cliffs above the beach at Degannwy. The night was cloudless, and the moon lit the hills as bright as day. The air was even wetter than usual, a curtain of dampness the wind dangled in his face. Maelgwn reined Cynraith to a stop, then closed his eyes and listened to the rumble of the waves echoing in the distance.

  He had sought Rhiannon unsuccessfully in the woods and along the coast near Arianhrodd's hut. As the night passed, he realized he had little hope of finding her. By now she would have found refuge in some hidden place. He prayed she was asleep, safe, lost in her dreams. He should be sleeping too, but he could not bear to return to Degannwy. To go home was to admit defeat.

  He dismounted and let the horse wander off to graze. Walking to a place where the cliffs jutted off into empty space, he stared down at the moonlit beach. He felt the urge to jump, to know the thrill of hurtling through the air like a bird. The landing would bring brutal pain, but for those few moments he would be free. If Rhiannon had gone to the other side, he could join her there.

  He turned away from the cliff. He would not give up hope. Once before, he had thought Rhiannon lost, then found her again. He would rest a moment, then renew his search.

  His limbs shook with fatigue as he sat down on the damp grass. Wearily, he took off his cloak and spread it beneath him. He lay down, spread-eagle. He would lie here a moment, only a moment. Then he would continue his search.

  He dreamed.

  He was late to the ceremony. People were already gathered on the cliffs, chanting, drinking, dancing around the fires. He could hear the vague thunder of drums, the eerie melody of the pipes. He wandered to the center of the crowd. The people swirled around him, laughing, embracing. He watched them solemnly, feeling very far away.

  He heard cries and shouts and turned to see people backing away from a dazzling light. It seemed as if a star had fallen to earth in their midst. Maelgwn watched as a small figure leaped out of the brightness. It was a woman, a woman whose skin was silver, shimmering with the brightness of the sea beneath the moonlight. Her hair was long and dark, and it whirled around her as she danced, barely covering her nakedness. The glow of her skin emphasized every sinuous line of her body. He admired her small, up-tilted breasts—the nipples black against the silver of her skin—her long, narrow back, her delicate legs. His loins tightened with desire.

  She drew nearer, and he saw that her face was painted, her lips blood red, her eyes dark with kohl. She gave him a bold, mocking glance that thrilled him. He wanted her, this wild goddess, but he also feared her. He felt the power in her, the blazing energy she gave off in the misty night air.

  Her dance changed, becoming slower and more seductive. She circled him, her small body twisting and swaying, casting rays of light into the air around them. With her mask of kohl and rouge and her wild hair, she reminded him of an animal, a mountain cat, stalking him. Her fingers grazed his body. She lingered her hands over his arms, his chest and then moved close, still swaying, to caress his back, his shoulders, his buttocks.

  He trembled, afraid of the power he sensed in her, but drawn to the small enticing creature who swayed so near him. He could smell her, the warm, eager scent of a female in heat.

  She touched his shaft, her dainty hands surprisingly strong and demanding. With thoughtless hunger, he reached out and lifted her up to straddle him. Her legs spread wide as he impaled her, then she wrapped them around his waist, clutching tightly.

  He gasped from the pressure, the maddening sensation of her body sheathing him. He tried to move within her, but could not. She held him tightly; her hands dug into his arms. Throwing her head back, she exposed her slender neck, her small, perfect face.

  He slumped to his knees, lowering her to the ground, driving into her. Her body took him in, swallowed him. The earth below them began to shake and quiver. The cliff gave way. He was falling.

  He landed in water, not the ocean, but a fast-flowing river. The water foamed white, boiling over the rocks. He remembered the dream with the baby and the river and knew he must find Rhiannon. Soon it would be too late; she would be gone forever.

  He took a deep breath and dived. The sun shone through the water, making everything so dazzling bright he could not see. He closed his eyes and searched the river bottom by feel. The rocks tore at his hands; his lungs ached from lack of air. There was no more time. He must go up to breathe, or die himself.

  He woke gasping. His chest felt squeezed and tight. It took awhile for him to get his breath back and realize where he was. Someone was leaning over him, calling his name. His eyes struggled to focus. At first, he did not believe what he saw. He had been thrashing in the water, searching desperately for Rhiannon. Now he woke to find her mere inches away.

  He reached up for her and pulled her down to lie on his chest. She was naked, trembling, and her hair was damp and cold. She pressed herself against him, weeping. He felt her fear, and a chill went through him.

  "Oh, Maelgwn," she murmured. "I'm so glad you are safe."

  He said nothing. His throat felt tight, and tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

  She lifted her head, and he saw the
wondering, far-away look on her face. "I tried to go to the other side, Maelgwn. I wanted to see Esylt... to ask her why... I wanted to see... our baby." Her throat convulsed. "I did not find them. When I was very far into the other realm, the mist thinned and I saw a woman... a woman I had never seen before. She was very beautiful, with dark hair and strange features. She carried a baby in her arms. When she saw me, she spoke your name."

  Maelgwn gasped and sat up, pulling Rhiannon onto his lap. "Aurora," he whispered. "You saw Aurora."

  Rhiannon nodded. "She told me to return to you. She said... you needed me."

  Maelgwn closed his eyes against the emotions swelling his throat. Rhiannon had gone very far, to the very depths of the spirit world. It was a miracle that she lived, that she had returned to him. "How did you find me?" he asked in a wondering voice.

  Rhiannon settled herself more comfortably against him. Her voice remained awed. "When I came to awareness again, I found myself lying on the beach, soaking wet. I knew I had to find you. Somehow I was drawn here, to these cliffs, to the place where I first felt my spirit touch yours."

  Maelgwn swallowed. "Oh, my sweet Rhiannon. I am so glad to have you back. Aurora spoke the truth," he whispered raggedly. "Without you, I am lost."

  Rhiannon nuzzled his neck, and he felt the pressure of her soft breasts against his chest. The sensation aroused him, and he remembered his own dream. "And I dreamt you were the Goddess," he said. "You danced naked in the moonlight, and I knew your power." He took Rhiannon's hand and pressed it against his swelling erection. "You have held me in thrall since the beginning. Since you first knelt between my thighs and took me into your sweet, soft mouth. My soul was yours then, as it is now. You are the Goddess, Rhiannon, at least as She appears to me."

  Rhiannon took her hand away to stroke his face. "I have wondered for months why the Goddess saved me. Now I know it is so I will love you, and bear your sons."

  "Oh, aye, Rhiannon." Maelgwn's voice trembled. "Tonight, I will fill your womb with my seed. You will bear my children, and suckle them and love them."

  He lifted her face, cupping her chin in his hand so he could look at her. There was mystery in her expression, the haunting, wild beauty that drew him. He felt the beating of her heart, the blood flowing through her limbs. He let himself be swallowed in the depths of her enigmatic eyes. His spirit merged with hers, floating in a velvety darkness.

  "My beautiful Rhiannon. You do have power. You utterly ensorcel me."

  She smiled faintly. His hand lingered upon her back and touched her soft bottom. "I want to mate with you," he whispered. "Get up so I can undress."

  Rhiannon left the warmth of his embrace and stood. Despite her nakedness, she did not feel the cool evening air. There was a fire inside her, heating her. With Maelgwn watching her, she felt beautiful, absolutely desirable.

  She swung her hair back so he could see her body. Turning, she lifted her arms, flaunting herself. Across the few feet that separated them, she sensed the quickening of his pulse, the bubbling heat of his blood.

  His hunger intoxicated her. She began to dance to the silent music the sea and the moonlight made together. The rhythm made her twirl wildly. Never had she felt so free. Her body was light, transparent. The bonds holding her to the earth loosened, and she felt as she had at the ceremony in the forest. She floated on a cool wind, flying in the darkness.

  Maelgwn stopped her mad dance with his body hard against hers. He was naked, huge. But she did not fear him. He was a mere man, and she—she was a woman. He lifted her, and she opened herself to him, eagerly, triumphantly.

  They were joined. The fire burned and seared between them. She gasped as he went to his knees, then pressed her down upon the ground. He kissed her as he loved her, hard, demanding kisses that sucked her soul from her body. She gave it willingly, knowing that he would return it to her, knowing that she possessed his as well.

  A sea of sensation crashed over them, and they were lost in the waves of passion, throbbing, incessant, timeless. The splendor turned to vivid light, then darkness, and they found themselves mere flesh and blood creatures again, lying exhausted on the grassy cliff.

  Chapter 30

  In the distant east, dawn crept into the sky. Rhiannon shivered against her lover, then nestled closer. She sighed. "How do we return to the world after this?"

  Maelgwn sat up. In the gathering light, she saw the lines of weariness on his face. His tanned cheeks were darkened by a day's whiskers, his beautiful blue eyes smudged with shadows.

  "Jupiter be damned!" he whispered.

  "What? What is it?"

  "My fortress is crammed to bursting with my allies. They expect me to make some important pronouncement."

  Rhiannon stood up and watched him, wondering. She would not be afraid; she would not.

  He turned to look at her. His eyes blazed with determination. "I mean to take you back with me, Rhiannon. I will make you the reason for my summons. Will you go?"

  This was it, the moment she had once dreaded. The moment when he asked her to come back, to leave her own life behind and become his queen again. The prospect no longer dismayed her. She knew now that she was meant to walk beside him. It was not a denial of who she was, but an affirmation.

  She nodded slowly, and he stood and reached to caress her face. "It will not be easy," he said. "Many of them are wary of the old ways and the things you represent. It will take all your strength and courage to face them, but I know you will do it. You are my queen, my mate, my consort. We have overcome so much together—hate, despair, anger, even death. We will survive this as well."

  Rhiannon dressed in Maelgwn's undertunic, then looked down at herself. Barelegged, barefoot, her hair thoroughly disheveled—she hardly looked like a queen. More like a grubby peasant girl, a wild fairy child at best.

  Then Maelgwn came to her and kissed her, open-mouthed and hot. "You are beautiful," he said. "My blood turns to fire just looking at you."

  She smiled back at him. When he said things like that and looked at her with his glowing blue eyes, she felt like a queen indeed.

  Maelgwn went to find Cynraith, who was grazing some distance away. He returned with the stallion and lifted her up onto his back, then mounted himself. Rhiannon leaned back, feeling her husband's strong arms around her as he guided the horse. It was bliss to be near Maelgwn, to listen to the sound of his breathing, to feel his warm breath against her skin. There was peace between them, a deep peace bought by all they had gone through together. She wondered if there was anything strong enough to shatter her sense of contentment this morn. Even returning to Degannwy did not daunt her. With Maelgwn beside her, things would be as they should.

  Cynraith's steady trot ate up the distance rapidly, and within moments they could see Degannwy, perched on the hill above the coast. The fortress looked much less threatening than Rhiannon remembered. It did not seem like a prison now, but merely a solid, sprawling hill-fort. She had once been filled with awe at the size and grandeur of the place—and fear at the thought of the great king who commanded it. Now she returned, cradled in the arms of that king. She knew now that he was merely a man, a man who wept and worried and struggled. He needed her.

  The gate was open, the courtyard crowded with people. Rhiannon could not remember ever seeing so many gathered there. Her stomach lurched suddenly, and she lifted her head and straightened her shoulders. She was a queen, after all.

  At first, they went unnoticed in the confusion of the courtyard. Gradually, people began to recognize the king, then her. Faces went white, and some pointed or whispered. Rhiannon felt Maelgwn's arm tighten around her. She could sense his tension—not fear, but readiness for combat. The reminder that he was willing to fight for her made a lump form in her throat. She forced herself to smile and look calmly into the startled faces around her. The Goddess—she pleaded silently. Be with me. Make me strong.

  They had almost reached the great hall when Rhun came running up, his eyes wide in amazement. "Rhiannon!
You're back!"

  Maelgwn released her, and Rhiannon slid off the horse. Rhun had grown while she was gone. It seemed as if they looked at each other nearly eye to eye.

  "I've missed you," she said with a smile. "I have come back to be with you and your father."

  Rhun's embrace was exuberant, his words half-choked by tears. "How we have missed you, Rhiannon! Papa especially. I'm so glad you've returned."

  Tears formed in Rhiannon's eyes, but she did not yield to them. This was the warmest welcome she would receive. She must be prepared to face the others—those who would think her a witch, an enchantress. Those who resented Maelgwn's love for her.

  Rhun's greeting seemed to reassure the people standing nearby, and Rhiannon felt a lessening of the fear her appearance had roused at first. Maelgwn moved quickly. After hugging Rhun, he sent his son on his way, then turned and led the crowd into the hall.

  Maelgwn went to the fire, taking her with him. He took his place at a table near the hearth and pulled her down to sit beside him. The others gathered around them, some sitting at the trestle tables, others standing. Rhiannon saw many unfamiliar faces; she guessed they were the other chieftains of Gwynedd. Their eyes showed surprise, curiosity... and frank hostility.

  When the assemblage quieted, Maelgwn turned to Rhiannon and kissed her. The kiss held little of Maelgwn's usual passion. It was not a show of affection, but a proclamation, a challenge. The men's reactions varied widely, from amusement to anger. Rhiannon was relieved to see satisfied grins on the faces of most of Maelgwn's officers. Except Balyn—he wore a look that could best be described as terrified. Rhiannon was puzzled; Balyn had always been so easygoing.