Arthur's Sons (Book 2)

The Fires of Idirsholas (Part 1)

Rowan knew he was asleep, his body felt light like he was floating but something was wrong, he was following a hooded figure entering a decrepit looking castle. He tried to wake himself thinking it was the beginning of a nightmare but something was keeping him here, forcing him to watch as the figure approached tall cobwebbed statues in the chamber of the empty old castle.

The figure stepped towards the centre of the circle of what Rowan thought were statues but as he studied them he realised they were masked knights that seemed to be frozen in time. Rowan turned back to the hooded figure who reached up and removed the hood, it was Morgause. Rowan sneered at the sorceress though she could not see him, she holds her hand out over the brazier in the centre of the strange knights and grins wickedly. 

"Cnihtas Medhires, éower sáwla sind min sáwla. Onwác and cóm hér eft. Rid eft ond forsliehð eft. Gehðu, Uther Pendragon!" She commands, a fire lights in the middle of the circle of figures and Rowan watches with horror as the frozen knights begin to move. His incorporeal form stumbles back as he feels the powerful necromancy spell wash over him. 

Rowan blinks before his eyes are drawn to a woman's figure standing in the background, she was dressed in a pitch-black dress with a hood. Upon her brow sat a crown with the three phases of the moon and on her shoulder sat a crow, she held a spear that seemed to whisper with the voices of the damned. Rowan's eyes locked with hers and her eyes burned silver as his own. "Put them to rest, My Prince." The woman spoke with three voices, Rowan felt the command deep in his bones as he was cast back into his body.

Rowan gasps awake in a cold sweat only to immediately groan as his still-healing ribs give a throb of pain, Arty's snoring cuts off as he too is awoken. "Brother? Are you alright?" Arty's croaky voice reaches him and Rowan swallows thickly as he tries to calm his breathing.

"Y-Yeah I'm okay." He replies shakily.

He hears a faint sigh before a single candle on the bedside flickers to life, he watched Arty stand and walk over to climb up on the bed next to him. "Don't lie to me Brother. You're a terrible liar." Arty teases him before watching him with concern. "Was it a bad dream?" He asks softly.

Rowan shakes his head. "No, I don't think so." He murmurs softly before quietly explaining his dream but he decided to leave out the woman in black, Arty's eyes are wide by the end and Rowan rubs his arms nervously.

"We should tell Ma and Da." Arty says uneasily after a moment. 

Rowan nods before glancing outside to see false dawn. "In the morning, I'm tired." Rowan sighs before snuggling down under his blankets and turning away from his brother. Arty watches him for a moment before smiling softly and slipping under the blankets behind him, he carefully pulls his brother against his chest and holds him gently. 

"Goodnight." Arty mumbles quietly. 

"Goodnight." Rowan whispers back before relaxing into his brother's warm embrace. 

---

The next morning they both wake late with a few muttered curses and manage a few bites of food before heading to find their father only to discover the council had been called so they rushed over and slipped through the servants' entrance. They weave in amongst the crowd to stand near the front where they see a man practically clothed in rags shifting nervously before the King.

"I'm a herder from the northern plains, Sire. Three nights back, we were camped beneath the walls of Idirsholas." The man began looking spooked. 

Uther chuckled faintly. "I'm not sure I would've chosen such a place."

"Good pasture is scarce at this time of year, Sire." The man explains with a weak smile. 

"And what is it you have to tell me?" The King asks already bored.