I did not have to ask for silence now: The chamber was of a sudden still as a burrow of coneys with a weasel coming up the run. For the Coranians were, past all doubt, the paramount king-stoats of the known galaxy. We were well acquent with them of old, of course: In truth, the Coranians (or Telchines, as they were then) were the chiefest reason for the Kelts (or Danaans, as we were then) leaving Earth. So far back, indeed, did the long enmity have its roots in bloody ground…
For myself, I was only surprised that they had waited so long before moving against us. Plenty of occasion, in all the years of Arthur’s and Gweniver’s reign, for them to have struck at less cost to themselves… And even Edeyrn, who had not scrupled to hire any buyable race he could offer coin to, had balked at purchasing the services of the Coraniaid—or perhaps they had merely scorned to take coin for a thing they would sooner do for sheer joy’s sake. Therefore had they not been—unlike the Fir Bolg and Fomori and so many more—on Arthur’s roster of races to be chastised, when we went out in that first great reiving in Prydwen, so long ago.
But it seemed they were come against us now, right enough, and Marguessan it was who had invited them to do so…
And they would be formidable enemies when they came; but that would not be for a while yet. Our most immediately pressing problem was the uprising on Gwynedd that Marguessan had launched last night. All at once I was struck by the killing irony, and glancing at Morgan I saw the same thought on her also: Once, we were the ones who had launched rebellion and civil strife on Gwynedd, to strike against the master of Keltia; we had done against the Marbh-draoi, and now we were being done against as we had done ourselves.
But there the resemblance ended: The Marbh-draoi had been Keltia’s great enemy, and the Counterinsurgency had been indisputably correct to have vowed to bring him down. This thing with my matesister and my fostern’s son was cloth of a whole other weaving; and even now Gweniver and Arthur were forging the shears to cut it to their pattern.
"At least they have not gone against the Protectorates," Tarian was saying. "For that we can be thankful, if for little else; and here is where we shall most miss Keils." Murmured sorrow and agreement. "For more needs than one… But here is how I see it—"
Swiftly she outlined her plans for our assault on Gwynedd—strange just how swiftly the sophisticated, diplomatist Taoiseach of decades’ service fell back into the gait and garb of catteran warlord—and just so smoothly did Grehan Aoibhell move to her side, as they had done so oft of old.
I was less sanguine and inspired, I am nothing loath to tell you. It seemed to me that we had earned better than this over the years; this outfall and upshot were naught that we had merited of the lords of dan, for all that we had done we deserved better in return. I was by no means alone in so thinking; but it is never good and rarely profitable to blame dan—see that you follow not my deplorable lead—and any road sulking in my tent was no answer.
Certainly no answer Arthur wanted: He sat now across the table Rhodaur from me, having just joined us from his private session with Ygrawn and Gwennach, and I could tell by his silence and his countenance he knew just exactly what I was thinking, and loved it not at all. How then? I sent to him sullenly. Would you rather I seemed to be having a fine time of it here? Are you? But no answer came back to me by any form of speech.
Tari and Grehan had finished their detailing of the preliminary strategy for our riposte to Marguessan—local forces first to contain, then an expedition in strength to crush; nothing gaudy—and had paused to look expectantly at Arthur where he sat with his chin in his hand and his elbow on the arm of his chair. He was staring at the huge holomap that shimmered in the center of the hollow space in the table’s ring; then he stirred and seemed to come back to himself, rising to speak as if this were merely one of a thousand dull Council sessions down the years.
"In the old days, our wisdom held it best that when confronted with two enemies of unequal strength we should attack the stronger first," he began. "Well, we were younger then"—comfortable chuckles ran round at the shared memories—"and perhaps our traha served us better than we knew. But to do the same here and now is, I deem, little better than self-slaughter." No chuckles now; Arthur shivered head to foot, and went on at once. "So. We go first against Marguessan on Gwynedd, to clear our rear ere we venture out; then meet the Coranians as they sail in, if they still choose to do so. After, if there is need and we yet may, on to Fomor and Kaireden of the Fir Bolg." The druid-power he so seldom used flared out now, to touch with fire an area of Gwynedd I remembered well from my bardic spy-jaunts. "Here. First. The ridge of Kellanvore is where we shall engage my sister and her forces. And Elen Llydawc shall command."
Elen Llydawc, Elen of the Hosts… I looked where the map was glowing brightest: a place called Barrendown. Then looked round the table Rhodaur, and was struck chill to the heart, remembering. We here had shared and survived the end of the beginning, when we fought Edeyrn and won; now we had come at last to the beginning of the end, where we must fight Edeyrn’s last and greatest pupil. And what then? I denied, of course; but I already knew.
Morgan was more than usually subdued as we went to bed that night; more than usually loving, also, as we found comfort each in the other—perhaps the last time we would lie together for many days to come. When she still would not speak, I shook her playfully, but she could not be chaffed nor coaxed from her mood.
"What is it?" I asked presently. "You know we shall be returning here to Tara, once Marguessan and her offworld vermin are swept into the great midden of dan and defeat. We shall not go out against the Coranians and the rest without first seeing our dear ones here before we go. What is on you? Is it your sister? Cariad o’nghariad, we all of us knew this day would come some time to be faced, and fairly faced too…"
"Aye," she said, after a very long, very troubled silence, "but perhaps not as it has come." She shivered a little against my side, moved deeper into the curve of my arm. "Barrendown," she said then, and I could tell by her tone that Sight had taken her far from our warm firelit bedchamber. "Dragon shall fight dragon, not for the first time nor yet the last. Ships in a dead sea… Two parts of my life have gone, and two parts of your own. Have you news from the Gate?"
With that she went small and lash against me, and did not stir. After a while, to make sure she was deep asleep, I lifted her gently onto her own pillows and pulled the coverlets up around her bare shoulders, settling back again on my own side of the great bed. But I courted sleep no whit just yet.
In her usual fashion of saying little more than nothing, Morgan had given me just now much to think on. Barrendown. It was the name I had seen on the map in Gwahanlen—the hill by the mountain ridge Kellanvore, where Artos had pronounced we should face Marguessan; no surprise there. Yet what had Morgan Seen, to pronounce of her own so direly? I did not like at all the sound of that saying of how two parts of our lives had gone; and nor was the rest of much greater cheer. And what that Gate was I did not even dare to think.
And, not-thinking, I fell asleep at last; and in the morning Morgan was herself, no sign of having ever been aught other. She would not have shown it even had it been so, for we were all but ready now to sail to Gwynedd, and by her own request she was to stay behind with Gweniver. And that was a thing so at variance with what all who knew her had expected as to cause dire mouthings and frettings among the folk.
Even Arthur had been surprised, though he had instantly granted her asking, only glad to have her with Gwen and Ygrawn to hold Tara against any chance comers. But none of us, I think, guessed her real reasons; not even I, my shame and everlasting sorrow to say. Had we known, had I but guessed—perhaps what was later to come of it had been averted. But that was only hindsight; we all of us see like eagles when that is the eye we look through…
No matter how many times I ventured into space, never, it seemed, would I ever grow ‘customed to the sight of my worlds when they could be seen as worlds: fantastic spheres hanging brilliant and a
stonishing in the dark spangled void. Or even going in, diving down into atmosphere: seeing the red rolling deserts of southern Gwynedd where none had ever dwelled; farther north, the forested uplands with trees strewn like dark sand along the hill-edges; clouds like towers reaching up to us, like great ships with all sails set, sails of silver and hulls of dark blue iron; so lovely.
Arthur made some small noncommittal grunt when I spoke of this: All his attention was already focused not on the beauty of the lands beneath but on their suitability for a fight; and so it should be. These were lands we both knew well, that all our force knew well: Most of those on the ships of the fleet behind Prydwen were old Companions and auxiliars of the campaigns, or Gwyneddans themselves; they did not need to be told twice of Marguessan’s likely dispositions. They had fought this ground before, and please Goddess, would be spared to fight it again if so it must be.
I was for my part a little surprised, and unpleasantly so, to see just how impressive a force Marguessan had already assembled. The lines of her leaguer, clearly visible from space, were extensive and at the same time compact; she had had good advice, then, for she was naught of a soldier of herself, and Irian her lord was less a warrior even than she. Someone, though, had experience of these lands…
"Malgan," said Arthur, looking at me as at a dotty old grand-sir who needed to be reminded of his own name. "Who else? He grew up here with Gwenar and Owein, and I doubt me he stayed tucked away at Saltcoats all that time."
"But those are gallain troops she works with!"
"So? What of it? Any trooper, even a gall, can learn with speed a new ground, sith that he is paid enough to make it worth his time, or cares enough to look after his own life. My sister"—now he sounded just like Morgan, and I startled to hear it—"has never been ungenerous to those she thinks she can do her better or greater service than she does them. Besides, you yourself told me she had outfrenne help."
"I did." I was silent, thinking of that ‘help.’ Those outworlders I had seen at Caer Dathyl and at Saltcoats, and before: that scranbag of feiching sharnclouts, Tembrual and Rannick, Granumas and—what was his foul-fared name—Redshield, Sleir Venoto and the gricemite mac Ffreswm. There were goleor more, very like, who had aided Marguessan, who did so still; but these six were the ones I most longed to gralloch. I am not known for a man of wrath, as having read thus far you will no doubt attest; yet I say to you, and you will believe my saying it, that these and a few more I could cheerfully have filleted with a dull fork and fed to the hogs, save that such an end would have been both too swift and too merciful, and such a diet like to have put the hogs off their feed forevermore. I brightened: Perhaps justice might not altogether be denied me; for who could say, after all, how the fight to come might not play out? Malen Ruadh, goddess of war and lawful avenging, might yet smile her favor upon me…
We landed at Kellanvore, the great mountain wall running up to the Havren range that divides the empty provinces of Sarre and Pontrilas, northeast of Caer Dathyl. We had seldom fought so far east in the campaign for Gwynedd against Owein Rheged—well, we of the Company, any road; it had been others’ lot to fight in the eastern shires, while Artos was making himself master in Arvon—and the country was less familiar than we liked.
The onetime master of Arvon paid it no mind. Though Arthur had valiantly studied to keep his countenance grave and cryptical of what thoughts and feelings did lie behind, twice or thrice now I had surprised upon his face that look I knew so well of old: the look that had gotten us into Glenanaar and out of Talgarth, the look that had won Cadarachta and willed Caerdroia. Truth to tell, I was not sorry to see it—it might well be that look alone which would triumph for us here—but all the same it filled me with a certain, all-too-familiar dread.
Others too: Tarian, who had accompanied us, spoke to me privily of her own like misgivings; Alannagh Ruthven, as well, had a narrow look in her astonishing green-blue eyes; and goleor more of the Companions who had seen in Arthur what we had seen, the which we all had rather noted than liked. But when I spoke hesitantly of it to Arthur, I found him unexpectedly loquent withal.
"Well, it is like old times," he said, and there was naught of defensiveness in his voice, but only surprise that I should be so wary. "But Talyn, do not you or the others ever forget: I am fighting my own sister here. Aye, and her son, and my son… That I should wish to get through this as best I might should come as no surprise to any who have ridden with me as long as your lot have done."
"Nay, Artos," I began, abashed and heartsore for him. "We are not surprised, just so—it is only that we are, well, somewhat feared for you. And feared too for what is coming."
"Who is coming, you mean," said Arthur darkly. "And well you might be. No matter, Talyn. I have a trick or two prepared against them. But—"
"But?" I echoed in sudden terror, and he smiled a true smile this time.
"We both know, I think, what is to come of this," he said quietly and with a certain calm joy. "We have been told so often enough, by tellers who speak only truth. Nor is it so ill a way to take our leave, after all we have seen and done and been and had. Is it?"
"Nay," I said after a while, to my great surprise, for I found that as usual Arthur had the right of it; and besides I too had heard those tellings he spoke of. "It is not. Nor will it be, when it comes. But not, I think, here."
"Nay," he agreed after a pause of his own. "Not here. Not for us."
The Battle of Barrendown, as it came to be known in the war-lists, was joined two mornings after our landing by Kellanvore. Thanks to Marguessan’s hasty wholesale importings of mercenary talent, our forces met on almost equal footing; well, at least as far as mere numbers went. Also, sad to relate, some few—blessedly few—of the Companions and auxiliars we had trained and ridden with and fought beside had chosen for reasons of their own to sell their swords to Marguessan. Had acknowledged her as Ard-rian, even, and Mordryth as Tanist and Malgan as Prince of the Name; and that bit deeper than all. But the greater part remained loyal to Gweniver and Arthur. To their Ard-righ, aye; but still more, and always, to their Artos.
And it told in the fight, indeed and truly. Even so, the battle raged for four days and nights together; and many fell. Chiefly outfrenne fighters, I am pleased to report; the bought dogs of Marguessan stood against the Companions no better than Edeyrn’s Ravens had stood when it came to it, and for the most part very much worse. Still, we suffered losses too; if none of name or note that you would recognize and grieve for, yet they were ours, and we could ill spare them, and we lamented.
It was on the morning of the fourth day of fighting that I got my heart’s wish of that strife: Leading a small party of heavy horse in support of Elen’s war-chariots—even more than Tarian had Elen Llydaw authored this battle, and already out of it, as Arthur before them, they had begun to call her Elen Llydawc, Elen of the Hosts—I came quite by chance upon a small company of gallain, led, I was so happy to see, by none other than Tembrual Phadapte and Phayle Redshield. And nor were their comrades in iniquity very far distant; certainly not too distant to feel the weight of my arm… And for one of the very few times in all my life as a warrior—and you will of your grace remember that, circumstances aside, the life of the blade was never my calling—I was seized by the battle-fury, the gae catha, the Red Mist of Doing that comes over one on the instant and can only be lifted by blood.
So I sought some, the blood to ease my heart, gallain blood, traitors’ blood, vermin’s blood. Alannagh, who rode as my lieutenant, told me afterwards that she had actually halted in her own tracks to stare with wonder and horror equally at what I then did; but I do not recall the act, only the results. The Red Mist of Doing was upon me; and when at last it no longer veiled my sight and ruled my deeds, and I could gaze, uncomprehending and stupid as a noontide owl, at what I had wrought, I could scarce believe it, any more than could Alannagh or the others in our riding.
I do remember slaying Tembrual, perhaps because she was the one who had galled me
(pun intended) the most. Seeing our oncoming, she had turned to flee like the coward she was—bullies never stand up to a fair fight, that is what makes them bullies in the first place—but in my gae I had no compunction and less pity (and would have had none even in cold blood), and I cut her down from behind as she deserved, so all would know her for coward by her wounds. Scarce was her head rolling amidst the horses’ flashing hoofs than I was riding grimly on to deal likewise with Phayle, then with Rannick, then with… One by one, Marguessan’s six outfrenne henchmen fell beneath my dripping bright blade where it bit; and it bit often, and deeply, and redly, and where it bit it killed.
When I had at last been forsaken by the gae, or it had moved on to find another so hospitable to its indwelling as I had just now been, I leaned on my sword for support and stared satisfied upon my handiwork. It had been too easy: spearing fish in a weir. In the end, none of them had put up the least sort of proper fight, which told you right there what sort of creature they were—as if there had ever been doubt. Indeed, Kiar mac Ffreswm had whined like a hedgepig for his sorry little life, before I let it out for him; and the slorach Sleir Venoto had loosed his guts in his terror, soiling his breeks, before my sword separated him and his innards from further activity. The little ape-thing, Granumas, I had neatly and simply quartered; his hairy scrawny limbs lay strewn across the field, you could track his coward’s flight by how they had fallen.
You may perhaps think me harsh and cruel and vengeful for this; evil, even. But I will not accept that judgment. They had brought their ends upon themselves, with their lying ways and their betrayals and their easy simple lust for gold and power. Heedless of honor, willfully perverting the truth, of their own will and choice they would not learn. So I, of my own will and choice, had merely sent them along, expeditiously, to another, higher schoolroom; and there they would learn, will they or nill they. I am not sorry for my action, save that I did not so sooner. But, I must tell you, nor am I glad of it, beyond a certain undeniable satisfaction.
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