Word Count: 30,079
Summary of Events:
Olwyn was attending to her work when a rider from the Sygæðelwulf camp came and invited anyone who wished to come to their camp that evening to share stories around a fire. Olwyn was one of many who went and were told the tale of the fall of Sygæðelwulf, which involved the death of all the members of the royal house, including the Queen of Sygæðelwulf, the Crown Prince, and his wife and two children thanks to a curse the King of Glædricgar had ordered pronounced on the royal family by a druid . . .
Excerpt of the Day:
“Two years after the death of the Crown Prince Gwyðion soldiers arrived at the royal palace of Gyðhærd carrying the Prince Bryn, shot near to his heart by an arrow and seeming quite dead,” the man went on. “Convinced he had been deceived by the druid he’d called to protect his son, Urien the Cowardly ordered a pyre to be built on which he and his son would be burned.”
Olwyn shuddered, she didn’t know how people could get to such pits of despair that they would rather kill themselves than live.
“Although he had lost his mind, the soldiers obliged him, knowing better than to contravene their king, no matter how much sanity he possessed,” the man continued. “So the pyre was prepared, the Prince Bryn laid on the pyre, while Urien the Cowardly stood beside him.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Olwyn hoped that there would be no grotesque descriptions of the burning corpses. She’d never seen something that wretched and hoped that she never would.
“Upon the pyre’s being lighted a bright, white light filled the room and a protective shield of magic came over the Prince Bryn, forcing all of the flames onto Urien the Cowardly, who died by immolation,” the man said.
He took a long drink from his horn and Olwyn wondered if that was the end of the tale, yet she doubted it was.
“Once the flames that burned Urien the Cowardly had died the druid who had enacted the spell of protection on the Prince Bryn appeared and told the warriors who had been frightened by the whole occurrence that they were not to bury the Prince Bryn, for he would return to them, to us, in our time of need,” the man said, his voice having a lightness of hope in it. “He promised our curses would be undone when they had been sufficiently fulfilled, thus we still lost our kingdom, but we know it shall return to us, as will our prince.”
“Is the prince still there?” a warrior of Cynehærdwyn asked.
“No,” the man replied. “Impressed of the importance of not burying their prince, the warriors cleaned the pedestal on which the pyre had been built, cleaned the Prince Bryn and changed his clones from blood and oil-soaked war-clothes to clean princely raiment. As they observed him they discovered his body did not decay like those of the dead, and soon many were travelling to visit the Royal Crypt to see the undead prince, whom many said appeared merely asleep, although all efforts to wake him were in vain.”
It sounded impossible to Olwyn, but she was sure a druid could do such a thing, if they could help in other, usually medical, matters.
“Within a year war arrived at Gyðhærd and the city fell,” the man continued. “The fiercest fight was had at the Royal Crypt, as the guards sought to protect their prince from falling into the hands of the enemy, but unfortunately the accursed witch-queen took his body, slaughtering all but a few of the loyal guards — those spared guards being the ones who spread the word of his capture — and carried his body to that fortress.”
He reached up his hand and pointed. Olwyn looked through the darkness to where the torches of vigilant guards indicated the city of Wygþmynd’s walls and, within them, the fortress of Sæbyrgealh.
Pronunciations:
Gwyðion: gwitheeon
Sæbyrgealh: sighbergeel
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