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next moment, he would think he wanted her only because she had belonged to Elphin. And he would know that his soul was a dark and twisted thing that he would reach over his dead brother’s body to the woman Elphin had loved.
    It was better he should be alone. He understood that now. Better to hate in the silence of his misshapen heart, and never marry, never beget children. Better that he should not pass on such twisted seed. Better that he should keep his hatred, his contempt for himself, hidden far away. For what did he have, really, to offer to any woman? Nothing.
    No, he would leave the marrying, the begetting, to his younger brother, Rhiwallon, and to his sister, Enid. Though Rhiwallon was not yet promised, Enid had been betrothed to Geriant, Sanon’s brother. Of late, though, Owein wondered if Enid was as happy in that bond as he had hoped. Something he saw in her eyes, a longing that he had thought stilled long ago, still stirred there when she thought no one was looking.
    But Owein saw. Why should he not see the darkness, the unbearable longing in the eyes of another? He who was so filled with it himself? Nonetheless, she would marry Geriant, who was a good, kind man, a courageous Prince, and who loved Enid with his entire bright, golden, pure soul. She would marry him, and forget the other one who lurked in the shadows of her heart still.
    Owein stepped forward, and turned over the body of the nearest warrior with his foot. The Coranian’s sightless blue eyes stared up at him. The blood running from his mouth was fresh and ruby red. So must his brother have looked, the night he died.
    “My Lord,” Trystan said quietly. “We must go.”
    Owein nodded. He turned to leave the burning wagons and silently melted back into the forest. And as the shadowy green silence reached out to him, shielding him from the harsh sun, he remembered again something Cerrunnos, Master of the Wild Hunt, had said to him. For the god had clearly read Owein’s heart that night long ago, when Owein had stood with Gwydion and Rhiannon in the fields of Rheged, the Hunt spilling around them.
    “Be careful what you wish for, boy,” Cerrunnos had said. “For you shall surely get it.”
    I T WAS LATE afternoon by the time they returned to camp and distributed the spoils into the care of Isgowen Whledig, the false King’s sister, for she had been steward to the true rulers of Rheged for many years, and was loyal to them still. It was she who parceled out the food, the cloth, and the wine to the members of Owein’s band—a harder and harder task as time went on. Two years ago, there had been only a handful to feed and clothe and arm. Now, as time went on, more and more men and women came to him, determined to join him in the fight to take back their land.
    The main camp, hidden deep in Coed Addien, was crowded, as always, with the sad remnants of what had once been happy families. Children, some motherless, some fatherless, many both—ran back and forth throughout the trees. In this camp there were few warriors, for Owein set his bands to patrolling the forest itself. At regular intervals, a band would return to the main camp for a time, then set out again.
    Though he knew that they were well guarded, Owein still winced at the sound of so many people. Yet he knew that, at his signal, they would fall silent, melting into the forest itself until one would have thought the camp had been a dream. He reminded himself over and over that such a large settlement was in no danger of being surprised. For, at the fringes of this great forest, he had set the Dewin and Bards who had been sent to him by Anieron and Elstar. At the first sign of the enemy approaching their domain, the warning would be sounded, and sounded silently—from mind to mind in both words and pictures. Sounded long, long before the enemy could find them.
    It was the same with the other two bands where the Cerddorian of Rheged lived and waged their battles against the enemy. Hetwin