Dawnflight (Sonnet Books) [Mass Market Paperback]

Chieftainess Gyanhumara (Guinevere) and Urien map Dumarec must marry to form a treaty, per the Pendragon of Brydein (otherwise known as Arthur). However, when Arthur and Gyan fianlly meet sparks fly! Now Arthur tries to find a way to claim Gyan as his own.

***No sexy bed scenes in THIS novel! War with the Scotts and pure adventure only! Lots of sword fights and battle fields. Plots and clever maneuvers mixed with some treason displays this version of the Legend of Guinevere. Guinevere is as much a warrioress as Arthur is the warrior. Watching them together was breathtaking! In my opinion, this one will hit the best seller lists quickly!***

I've always been a fan of the Arthurian legends, and I thought I'd seen them approached in just about every possible way -- That is, until I read Kim Headlee's "Dawnflight - The Legend of Guinevere."

Headlee takes the legendary characters Arthur, Guinevere, and Merlin, among others, and transforms them into believable historic figures. This book tells the story as it actually could have happened -- not behind the shining, pristine walls of mythical Camelot, but in our own world.

At its heart, "Dawnflight" is a love story, but don't let that scare you away. This is no sappy, sentimental romance -- quite the opposite. It is actually a gritty tale of war and conquest, and not all of it is between nations.

Gyanhumara is a Pictish cheiftaness who is bound by a treaty to marry a Brytoni lord and ally her conquered tribe to the Roman Empire. She chooses Urien map Dumarec, one of her people's worst enemies, in hopes of bringing peace. She soon regrets her choice. Some of her misgivings are due to Urien's nature, but most are because she loves another man. She loves a man she once thought she hated above all others -- the conqueror of her people -- Arthur the Pendragon. That love could mean a civil war between Arthur and his arch-rival, yet unsteady ally, Urien.

Headlee says in the notes following the book that she feels Guinevere has gotten a "bad rap" in other tellings of the tale. Headlee intended to represent Guinevere a woman of "true power," and she has indeed succeeded. Chieftaness Gyanhumara is not a simpering lady of the court, nor a traitorous schemer as Guinevere has been portrayed in other versions. Instead she is a warrior-queen, as strong in will as in body.

She refuses to be subjugated by Urien, who obviously feels that no woman is even close to the equal of a man. Despite her revulsion, though, she still fully intends to honor her agreement to marry him. Her sense of duty to her people won't allow her to do otherwise.

The events that follow -- as Arthur and Gyanhumara attempt to come together, despite seemingly the whole world being against them -- puts a whole new face on the classic tale of betrayal that leads ultimately to Arthur's downfall in other adaptations. Definitely food for thought for any fan of the Arthurian legends. This isn't just another re-telling of those same stories. "Dawnflight" will make you re-think all the tales of Guinevere and Arthur you've ever read.

As for the writing itself -- it is superb. Headlee makes you care about her characters, and forget the countless other stories you've read about the same characters. She also has a knack for keeping the reader up past bedtime. The first night, I was able to put the book down, but once the action really started, it became tougher. Headlee has a talent for ending every chapter on a note that makes you say "just one more chapter before bed." Then, before you know it, it's 4 a.m. and you're beginning the final chapter.

On a personal note, this book came along at just the right time for me. When I started it, I was at a point where I didn't think fantasy could excite me anymore. Then, I picked it up. It has been quite a while since I devoured a novel the way I went through this one, and even now, I'm planning on giving it a second reading very soon.

In these days when every fantasy has to be at least a trilogy or more likely a watered-down drawn out saga, it's rare that I look forward to another series of books. In this case, I think "Dawnflight" is just the tip of Excalibur, and there's a lot more to the tale. I look forward to hearing it, and I hope Kim Headlee will stay with them until they're done.

Very Highly Recommended. At the Battle of Aberglein, the Roman forces led by Arthur the Pendragon of Brydain defeat the combined armies of Caledonia. Among the defeated is the Chieftain of Argyll, Ogryvan, who forces his fellow Picts to agree to the peace treaty. A clause contained in the pact leads to Ogryvan's son Per serving under Arthur's leadership and his daughter Gyanhumara marrying a Brydain lord of her choice. Since Arthur has not been recognized as a Bryton noble due to his questionable birth, he cannot marry Gyan.

Urien, whose charge won the day at Aberglein, is the leading contender for the hand of Gyan. When they meet, there seems to be an attraction between them. However, Urien despises the warrior ways of his intended bride and plans to tame her. When Gyan meets Arthur, sparks fly. He does not want Gyan to change one iota. Instead, he informs his uncle Merlin that he plans to have Gyan at his side even though it may cause big trouble for the Brydains and the Picts. If she picks her cherished Arthur, civil war will follow. If she selects Urien, he will crush her spirit forever.

Sometimes the rewriting of the Arthur legend leaves fans with a classy romance that has the audience clamoring for more from the author. Kim Headlee provides a heady saga that tells the tale of Guinevere, a character that readers will fully understand. Arthur is also cleverly done as he is part of a Roman-Brydain world at odds with the Picts. The story line of DAWNFLIGHT moves forward with plenty of detail that makes for a fabulous historical romance that begs for more novels from Ms. Headlee.

For anyone with more than a causal interest in English history, DAWNFLIGHT is a must read. Ms. Headlee has brought her own interesting style to this new telling of the age-old story of Guinevere and Arthur, and the ancient people from whom most or our modern ethics, religion and laws came from.

Among the misty lochs and glens of ancient Scotland, duty wages war against love on the battlefield of opposing cultures, religions, and political agendas.

A unique interpretation of the Arthurian Legends, Dawnflight rejects the traditional portrait of an insipid and traitorous Guinevere to deliver up an exotic, plausible, sword-wielding Pictish warrior-chieftainess. Gyanhumara is as compassionate toward kin and clan as she is ruthless toward her enemies, yet to secure peace for her people, she must deny her heart's desire to claim the one man she loves: the Romano-Celtic warlord, Arthur the Pendragon of Brydein. Appealing to readers of historical fiction, romance, fantasy, action-adventure, and Arthuriana, Dawnflight brings an inspiring "female Braveheart" to the fiction library.

"And while [they] did live happily ever after, the point is they lived." This line, spoken at the close of 1998's Ever After, literally made me gasp the first time I heard it. Because it summarizes precisely what I try to convey with "Dawnflight" and its sequels. Scholars will argue until the Second Coming about whether Arthur was a mortal or a god, one man or a composite, a king or a soldier, a Christian or a pagan, a southern Celt or a northern one, a native Briton or a Romano-Sarmatian import, and any other arguments they can dream up. My theory is that a folkloric tradition as vast and as inspiring as the Arthurian Legends does not spring up around a mythic god, or a mortal who was universally disliked by his people and merely given good press by his bardic spin-doctors because he was their patron. Therefore, my conclusion about Arthur and Guinevere, their companions and their enemies is: they lived. They fought. They loved. They did the wrong things for the right reasons and the right things for the wrong reasons. They triumphed. They failed. And they learned to overcome failure and the pain of betrayal by forgiving each other--which is perhaps the greatest lesson we can learn from them.

After Caledonia's devastating loss in the battle of Aber-Glein against Arthur map Uther, Pendragon of Brydein, Chieftainess Gyanhumara ("Gyan") nic Hymar is obligated by treaty to marry a Brytoni nobleman. She chooses as her betrothed Urien map Dumarec, son of her clan's worst enemy, in hopes of bringing lasting peace to her people. Arthur must honor this arrangement, even though he knows that Urien, his arch-rival, will gain greater power from it.

When Arthur and Gyan meet, the love that develops between them escalates to legendary proportions. But with her clan's future in her hands, Gyan would forsake her heart's bidding and go through with her obviously ill-fated marriage to Urien. For unless she and Arthur can avert the civil war that is sure to erupt, their love will be doomed to remain unfulfilled--forever.

From Chapter 1:

The combatants circled warily in the churned mud of the practice field, blind to the swelling audience and the chilling autumn rain. One, a giant of a figure, was the teacher. The student was neither as tall nor as well muscled but moved with the speed and agility of youth. The mud splattered on both bodies was mute evidence to the length of the session.

"Keep up your intensity!" Ogryvan swiped at his opponent's midsection. "Always! Lose your battle-frenzy, and you're dead!"

Though neither was fighting in true battle-frenzy, the younger warrior understood. Smiling grimly through the rivulets of sweat, the student danced out of reach, whirled, and made a cut at Ogryvan's thigh. The blunted practice sword could not penetrate the hard leather leggings but was sure to leave a bruise. Precisely over the wound he had taken at Aber-Glein two months before.

Although the swordmaster gritted his teeth against the pain, his opponent sensed satisfaction in the accompanying nod. The reason for the sign of approval was clear: the student had made an excellent choice of moves. Exploitation of the enemy's weaknesses was a basic tenet of the warrior's art. Mastery of this principle would serve Ogryvan's pupil well in the years to come.

"Strive to outthink your foe. Stay one move ahead," he advised between feints. The clatter adopted a dancelike rhythm as the opposing blade deftly met each thrust. The onlookers shouted their approval.

The youth answered with a powerful counterattack, silent but for the creak of leather and the hollow thunks as sword met shield. The swordmaster staggered backward. His disciple quickened the attack.

And grew careless. The shield sagged. Ogryvan landed a blow to the unguarded left shoulder. Startled, the youth lost footing in the treacherous mud and fell.

The laughter sparked by the mishap, from teacher and audience alike, was not unkind. Yet it did not comfort the mud-painted student.

The Chieftainess of Clan Argyll hated to lose.

And the reason rankled like that awful brew Cynda called spring tonic: she'd not done her best. She didn't need her father to tell her that carelessness had caused the fall. The loss.

In battle, such a mistake was often fatal.

She began to pick herself up, seething, only to be unceremoniously shoved face-first into the mud again. Before she could twitch, her father's foot pinned her down. His sword at the base of her neck chilled her to the core of her being. It was too easy to imagine what might happen next.

Ogryvan whispered, "Pay attention now, Gyan. This is my favorite part." His rumbling voice poised on the brink of a chuckle. "All hear and beware! The Ogre takes no prisoners!"

Had this been actual combat, her head would have become the newest addition to Ogryvan's private collection. Such was the Caledonian way. For in this manner, not only was the foe defeated in death, but to the victor went possession of the soul. Well honored was the warrior who boasted the largest array.

Long years of training had hardened Gyan to this aspect of warfare. Yet the prospect of someday ending up on display in an enemy's feast-hall was grisly at best.

By the shifting of his foot on her back, she knew her father was posturing for the crowd. They rewarded his performance with gleeful claps and shouts. The official practice session was over, of course. But Gyan wasn't quite finished.

Her sword hilt nestled in the palm of her outflung hand. She carefully tightened her grip. In a burst of movement, she writhed and scissored with her legs, twisted free, rolled to her feet, and brought the sword up in both hands. Ogryvan toppled into the mud. The resounding wet thud of his landing was chorused by the guffaws of the audience.

Gyan grinned, holding the point of her sword to Ogryvan's throat. "And neither does the Ogre's daughter!"

No nectar was as sweet as the joy of winning. And winning before an audience of her clansmen tasted even sweeter. One day, she would lead them into battle; events like today's added another brick onto the foundation of trust. Their heartfelt adoration warmed her like the summer sun.

She sheathed the sword and offered a hand to her father. "Even?" Her voice was huskier than usual from the exertion of the morning.

Ogryvan took the proffered hand to regain his footing. "Even."

Now that the match was over, the crowd drifted back to their various duties around the settlement. One man remained at the edge of the field. Gyan strode toward him, swatting mud from her thighs and chest.

"Well, Per, how did I look?"

"Like the baobhan-sith Cynda used to try to frighten us with." Her half-brother reached for a glob of mud lodged in her braid.

"A fen-spirit? Ha!" Gyan playfully slapped his hand away. "You know what I mean."

Peredur beamed at her. "You did well, Gyan. I don't think I could have fooled Father like that. Or held him off for so long."

She didn't believe him for an instant. They had sparred with each other often enough to know who was the better swordsman. But she rewarded his flattery with a brilliant smile and a challenge: "Race you to the house!"

Without waiting for his reply, she launched herself down the path, bruises forgotten in the autumn mist.

* * *

The Chieftain of Clan Argyll stood alone on the practice field. Pride pulsed anew for the two promising young warriors, now racing like colts toward the family's living compound. Per, Ogryvan observed with critical interest, was gaining. Arms pumping, Per drew abreast. Too close: Gyan's scabbard bounced into Per's leg. His stride faltered. With a whoop of triumph, startling a cloud of pigeons from their perches on the timbered roof, Gyan flashed past him into the long, low stone building.

Ogryvan shook his head in amusement. She was so like her mother. Winning at any cost was one of his late wife's dearest passions. How often had Hymar played some mischief like that? When they galloped their horses beside summer-slim streams, Hymar's favorite move had been to drive her mare at full speed into the shimmering water. He could still hear her bright laughter as he spluttered his protest at the unexpected dousing.

Time had finally managed to ease the pain of his loss. Mercifully, his most cherished memories remained intact.

With a glance at the leaden skies, he hoped Hymar was somehow watching. If so, certainly she ought to be sharing his pride.

He began shambling down the path after the youths when his boot crunched against something hard. All but invisible to the casual eye, Gyan's rectangular oak shield nestled in a muddy bed. Stooping to retrieve it, he resolved to chide her about neglecting her gear.

Gyan ought to hearken well to his words if she had a mote of sense, her father mused. Per, too. They would be far beyond the reach of his guidance soon enough. The sorrow of this knowledge clutched his heart like a merlin's claw over a mouse.

To honor the treaty made after the Battle of Aber-Glein with Arthur the Pendragon of Brydein, Per and hundreds of other Caledonian warriors would be riding south after spring planting to join the Brytoni army at Caer Lugubalion. Gyan was finished with her basic martial training; the rest she would have to learn through constant practice, and in battle. But she would not be joining her brother. Her part in fulfilling the treaty terms would take her elsewhere, beginning with the Brytoni school on the Isle of Maun.

The problem was, she didn't know this yet.

Telling her wasn't going to be easy, Ogryvan realized as he resumed his course for the building. He had dodged the issue for two turnings of the moon. Now time was his enemy.

Caledonian children born into the warrior caste were raised on the heroic stories of clan lore. Battles and wars, victories and defeats, incredible acts of strength and bravery: tales as sweet as mother's milk. Gyan had devoured the teachings more eagerly than any child Ogryvan had ever known, especially the hard lessons learned from the Roman War. And, most recently, Aber-Glein.

That Gyan seemed willing to swallow her inborn hatred of the Eagle of Rome was an eloquent measure of how much she wanted to fight beside Per and her clansmen. Even though they would be wielding their weapons on behalf of the Roman warlord, Arthur.