The Savage

Part 2: Chapter Seventeen: Llewellyn

Llewellyn paced outside Ronan's tent. Another octagon enclosure was being erected beside the first, presumably for Brenn. Over the winter in the village, he had forgotten she was a Princess, just as he had forgotten he was a prince. In Daear she had no power, in the village she was just Brenn; he had never seen her hold any power. Her dismissal of him had been a rude awakening. His three remaining companions were annoyed with his display of disrespect to their Protector and their Princess. Llewellyn took no notice of their moods, as he paced.

It had been easy to give up who he was to become nothing when Brenn was in the same state of being. Now, it was much different. She was a Princess again and in more ways than she had been before and now he was no one.

He toyed with the hilt of his sword, dried blood still spattered over his hands. His journey from prince to shepherd over the winter was the most visible in his hands. Once on the softer side and smooth, his long dexterous fingers were now calloused and scarred. What was he now? A guard? A rebel soldier?

He had not minded the killing. It bothered him less than he had thought it would. His horror over seeing the burnt homes and the children's bodies laying in bloody heaps and been deep and almost primal. It was almost a relief for those men to die. His drive to kill was vengeance for the deaths of the innocent, not for duty or love of his Princess and he wondered now if the difference mattered. Scratching at the blood to clean it off, Llewellyn wondered how long it would be before he could clean himself and sleep. He was tired.

Roasted wild game was provided by a few page boys. The food was simple, no salt, no herbs, just meat that could be hunted. The militia hauled no food carts, those would've been provided by the crown and for now the crown had nothing to give. Word of Brenn's presence was spreading like wildfire and as they ate a crowd of warriors had formed around the Protector's tent. They eyed him with heavy suspicion.

Impatient and angry at their audience, Llewellyn tossed his food to a camp dog begging at his feet. The crowd muttered angrily. He stood to leave but stopped at the sound of Brenn's voice behind him.

Coming out of the tent her cheeks were rosy and her neck was flushed. Ronan towering over her from behind, his eyes on Llewellyn. Llewellyn could smell the ale and he bristled. The crowd turned their attention onto her.

"Good Chieftains," she began, "We face a turning point in our history. Will we allow ourselves to become a causality of this Khaan or will we rise and drive him from our lands? Everything rests on the Seer. We can't allow him to keep our Queen anymore. If she falls, we all fall. The Protector and I are going to retrieve her and we need volunteers for the party. What say you?"

"Arin of clan Ui, gives you her axe!" A tall woman shouted stepping forward from the other Chieftains.

Brenn nodded solemnly to her.

"I, Cleland, of Clan Talum." A burly faun man said, pushing his way through.

Brenn nodded to him as well.

"And Fia of clan Muintir!" Fia shouted brushing past Llewellyn.

Brenn glanced at Ronan then said, "That is enough. Thank you." She turned to retreat back into the tent but was stopped by Cleland. "Princess! A moment."

She paused, turning back to the crowd of young Chieftains.

"We want to know why we have a Daearian in our midst." He asked boldly without looking in Llewellyn's direction.

The crowd muttered anxiously.

"The Daearian has sworn the blood oath. He is one of us." Brenn replied.