Chapter 32: Where’s Caelym?

As the curtains closed behind the last of the men following after Rhedwyn, Feywn rose from her place. No longer looking ordinary but regal and commanding—a war-goddess stepped out of a hero’s tale—she led the other priestesses off, leaving Herrwn alone with Ossiam, who’d dropped back into his chair and was slumped facedown on the table. It wasn’t unusual for Ossiam to collapse in exhaustion after a possession, especially one as intense as the one just past, but he didn’t respond when Herrwn called his name or when he said, “I’ll have Olyrrwd bring you a potion, shall l?”

Normally the very mention of Olyrrwd’s name—to say nothing of the possibility of needing his help—would have roused Ossiam from the deepest trance, but the oracle only gave a long, ragged sigh and murmured something that might have been “please” without opening his eyes.

Now seriously concerned, Herrwn made up his mind. Since there was nothing he could do to call off the coming battle, he must see to his cousin’s welfare. Ossiam’s assistants were hovering nearby, and with an urgent “Help him to his bed. I will fetch Master Olyrrwd,” Herrwn rushed off.

The healing chamber was dimly lit and filled with sulfurous fumes. Peering through the murky darkness, Herrwn could see Moelwyn hovering over a steaming cauldron and Olyrrwd changing the dressing on Asof’s head.

“Olyrrwd, Ossiam is—” Herrwn started, before choking on the acrid vapors. As he cleared his throat, he glanced around to see what Caelym was up to. Not seeing any shape resembling the tall, slender apprentice, a tingling of uneasiness made him change to asking, “Where’s Caelym?”

“Isn’t he with you?” Obviously preoccupied, Olyrrwd didn’t look up as he grumbled, “He said you said that he was to join you today—Hold still, Asof!—and so I sent him back to you—Can you feel this?”

At a sharp “ack!” from Asof, Olyrrwd grunted, “Good,” and went on, “You might have talked to me about it first. I want him to see these bruises while they’re still fresh, so please be so kind as to send him here this afternoon.”

“But I only took him with me to the sunrise ritual. I sent him to you after breakfast! You don’t think … you don’t think …”

“I am always thinking—wish I could stop sometimes!”

Olyrrwd’s gruff sense of humor was something that Herrwn usually found endearing, but not now, when loud alarm bells were sounding in his mind.

“Olyrrwd, listen! I was at the Low Council this morning! Do you think he might have followed me there?”

“If he did—and if it didn’t send him straight to sleep—I expect he’s snuck off on some jaunt in the woods.” Indulgent as always where Caelym was concerned, Olyrrwd smiled and added, “The rascal! I’ll have a word with him when he gets back.”

“But if he was there …” Herrwn swallowed hard and told Olyrrwd what had happened at the council, ending, “What if he took off after Rhedwyn—”

“Finish this!” Olyrrwd barked at Moelwyn, tossing a wad of bandages to his startled assistant. Without another words, he grabbed his staff and started for the door.

Even though Olyrrwd’s gait had become stiffer and more lopsided over the past winter, he outran Herrwn as the two of them rushed to the field where the troops were gathering.

They arrived just as Rhedwyn’s men were sorting through their weapons and the smith was passing out pikes and war clubs to men from the village. There, in the thick of it, was Caelym, who’d somehow gotten hold of a horse and was trying to mount it without dropping the sword and shield he had gripped under his arm.

Olyrrwd elbowed his way through the crowd, grabbed Caelym by the back of his collar, and had him disarmed by the time Herrwn caught up.

In his own early years, it was Herrwn’s father who had been the firm hand, delivering stern reproofs when they were needed, while his mother had been an abiding source of sympathy, understanding, and approval. Somehow the same pattern had taken shape in the responsibilities he and Olyrrwd shared for raising Caelym. True to form, Olyrrwd did no more than pat Caelym affectionately on the shoulder and say, “Back to the classroom now, Caelie, Herrwn has some things to say to you,” before he walked off muttering about needing to get to the healing chamber to relieve Moelwyn from the stress of actually having to put on a bandage.

Calling after him that Ossiam needed a reviving potion, Herrwn was relieved to have Olyrrwd call back, “I’ve got just the thing for him!”