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Renedwen knew full well how to ride a horse but she found herself unable to move. She held the reins in her cold, shaking hands while the young man urged both horses onwards. She couldn’t do more than hold the reins and hope that her son was unharmed. She looked down at him silently, hoping to hear him gurgle or make a babbling noise and couldn’t think of anything except his vulnerability. Her rescuer urged hoer on again and finally she kicked her heels and the horse moved off up the steps.
She halted at the top of the steps, transfixed by the sight of the creature that headed towards her. The air was cold and her heart seemed almost to freeze. She felt the horse falter and her blood ran cold. It was as though a nightmare had come to life. One of the night terrors which took her a dark place where she was frozen and unable to escape from what assailed her until her eyes opened and she woke, clammy and breathing hard. She could not wake this time. The dream was real.
Then she felt something strike the horse and it bolted forwards and she frantically grasped for the reins, only catching hold of them as the horse sped her through the gate. He did not stop until they were well inside the sanctum and he could go no further owing to the crowd of frightened people clustered within. She took a breath as she realised what had happened and slid down from the horse, her legs shaking and her eyes wide. Huddled by the horse’s steaming flanks, she carefully looked inside the bundle of blankets still strapped as firmly as could be to her chest. She saw the face of her son, his eyes closed and his cheeks slightly reddened, but as healthy and placid as ever and her racing heart eased.
“My lady”, she recognised the voice but it was different somehow. Turning around, she saw the face of the young man who had rescued her and gave him a brilliant smile. He was much younger than she had first thought, barely more than a boy, and he stumbled over his words. Still, he did his best to retain his dignity and she found herself glad to receive his best attempt at courtesy. Faerim. She had not heard the name, though she knew her husband would have done; he always took pains to be kind to the younger soldiers. She felt a strange sensation of pride and grief welling up inside her when an ecstatic voice cried out and Faerim turned to greet a woman who was obviously his mother.
Renedwen clutched her son tightly as she watched them embrace. She thought of how she had almost given her son up to someone else, how she had almost run back to her father’s house. She knew it would have been wrong, and she knew she would have known it was wrong the instant she did it. Nobody and nothing was going to take this child from her now. His eyes were open and she saw he was waking, finally unsettled by the noise around them. Those clear grey eyes looked right into hers and she looked into them sadly, thinking of her husband, alive only a few hours ago, and now waking in that green field alone. Maybe he would not be alone for long. There would be her mother and father with him. And her brothers. She was the one alone.
She was shaken from her thoughts by Faerim’s mother who gazed on her thoughtfully, with a look of heartfelt warmth, and then threw her arms about her. Taken aback for a moment, Renedwen almost shrank from the embrace, but she finally sank into it, and put an arm about the other woman in a gesture of gratitude and comfort. Renedwen couldn’t thank this woman enough and did not know how to put her feelings into words. Her son had rescued a stranger, had put his life at risk for her. She was not a wealthy woman, Renedwen could tell she had put her life early into raising a family, yet here she was, welcoming her and offering help. Would this have happened before these troubles? Renedwen did not know, but she knew she wouldn’t have considered such a thing. She was, she had been, the wife of a wealthy man, and they lived in a fine house, and she had fine gowns and fine ideas. All that would have set her apart just a day ago, but now in the ruins of the city she saw that they were all the same people.
Renedwen followed Faerim and his mother, unable to do anything else. Once, she would have led, but now she could do nothing else but follow meekly. She was chilled to her heart and still unable to say much, her sharp tongue finally stilled, and her brilliant blue eyes dim and dull with grief and shock. All the nightmares and portents of doom had finally come to pass and there would be no waking up in a warm bed this time.
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