The Phantom Queen Awakes by Mark S. Deniz Page B

Iaun
looked at Nolwenn pointedly, she took the baby from Lys and left,
herding the twins in the direction of her own hut.
    “And why can’t I go with you?”
    He closed the chest and motioned for her to
join him on their fur-lined pallet.
    “I need you here in my absence, Lys. The
people need you. Gwened will help you to oversee things while I’m
gone. Trust him as I do.”
     
    ****
     
    Lys’ third pregnancy quickly followed Iaun’s
triumphant return. Eager to capitalize on his tribe’s support and
the recent influx of artisans, he began to oversee the construction
of his own small fleet of ships. They were to be low but fast
wooden tubs with sails made of leather skins, capable of
seaworthiness in both the shallow and deep waters that would be
needed for a planned trading expedition to the West.
    She looked up from instructing one of the
craftswomen in the joining of hides for the leather sails as she
caught a glimpse of the twins chasing each other through the
shipyards. Lys’ leatherworking skills had been learned at her
father’s knees, and she was glad she could put them to good use
now. Gwened smiled approvingly at her work.
    “The building is going well. Especially with
their help,” Gwened said. They both watched the twins as they
handed fresh moss to the men who used it to seal the
planking.
    “I’m hoping it will take a while. I’m not
looking forward to Iaun leaving again so soon.”
    “I’m thinking of taking the boys with me on a
short hunt,” he said, after Lys rose to stand next to
him.
    She laid a hand on his arm. “If you think so,
Gwened.”
    Because of his fair coloring and steely
gray-blue eyes, it was rumored that his mother had lain with one of
the Northern slaves, although no one spoke about it in his
presence. She valued his companionship and had learned to trust his
judgment during Iaun’s absence. His wife, Nolwenn, barren herself,
had gladly taken Lys’ third son into her care, leaving her free to
handle tribal affairs.
     
    ****
     
    The time of celebrating Imbolc was well past
and Lys felt unwell as her term approached. She sought out the holy
women for assistance to ease the birth. Uxía brought her into one
of their huts, structures of woven reed walls and steep thatched
roofs. She laid Lys on a bed of heather rushes softened by a
covering of winter hay and gave her tisanes of willow bark. Uxía
confirmed that the delivery was drawing near.
    Her pain eased, Lys felt herself slipping in
and out of dreams. During one of them, Cathubodua appeared to her.
She came in her warrior aspect, accompanied by a black cloud of
ravens winging about her head and shoulders.
    “Three healthy, beautiful sons you have
borne,” she said. “I demand payment for continued good fortune.”
Based on her appearance alone, Lys would have guessed that the
fierce maiden was younger than her by several years, but the eyes
that bore into her contradicted the impression of youth.
    Lys nodded for her to continue.
    “I would have these first daughters, both of
them. They will be mine.”
    Lys shrank back and held her hands over her
belly. She felt the first contractions that signaled the impending
birth. “You wish them to enter into the care and training of the
holy women?’
    “No. Mine. Given. You will sacrifice them to
me the year they come into their maidenhood.”
    Lys’ breath came rapidly as her chest
tightened with dread, and she felt her knees weaken with fright.
“Why?”
    “It is my way. Difficult times require strong
magic.”
    Lys prayed quietly to other gods. It seemed to
take an eternity before she found her courage. “Can you not take
those from another of the tribe?”
    “The sacrifice of a king’s blood is the price
I require,” she said.
    Lys had not thought about her promise these
past few years. She had carried out her duties and strove to be a
good wife to Iaun.
    “I have made the pilgrimages into Ande-dubnos each year as you required of me, and have bathed
in the sea of