by Troy A Hill
“How does one get on the bad side of one of these pwcas?”
“Afon was coming back from one of Penda’s wars. He and his companion found food on a rock.”
“An offering to the fae?” I asked. Bleddyn nodded.
“Leave food out for them, and the pwcas will help the old or sick with chores,” Bleddyn said. “Afon ate the pwca’s meal. Never upset a pwca. He got slapped by a fish, almost drowned, tripped, had a stool pulled out from under him, and much more, all because he angered a pwca.”
“Perhaps we should find a few of these pwcas for the next time we need to test our youth.” Cenric laughed. Startled cries echoed inside the cave. Cenric’s men laughed again.
“They got to the chest,” one man called back.
“Afon’s surprise is next,” Sawyl said with a grin.
Another round of excited yells, followed by thuds and thunks of their wooden sticks striking the straw-stuffed grain sacks Afon and his conspirators had assembled into a dummy. In the light, it was harmless and looked laughable. It would be intimidating to the excited youth who were spooked and primed to fear the challenge. Like any initiation rite, this one relied more on them fearing the unknown than testing their martial prowess. I doubted a man who could reach Cenric’s level under Penda would test youth not skilled enough with their weapons to join their fellow warriors.
“They’re running out,” one man said. Cenric’s men all stepped off to the side. A cry sounded from inside, and then came the sound of flesh hitting stone, followed by the clink of coins scattering. Then cursing.
“Curse you, Urthbert,” a voice cried. “Bring that light back here. I need to find those coins.”
Two of the inductees ran out of the cave, one clutching the candle, his hand trying to shield the flame. It flickered, fluttered, and clung to the wick as he slowed. Both of the youth had bags clutched in their hands.
Laughter sounded from inside. Afon and his two accomplices stumbled out grinning behind them.
“You lads left your fellow warrior inside alone,” Cenric growled. “Give me those coin bags. Then get the lamp and help Dunstan.”
“Yes, milord,” they both said, eyes on their feet.
“You should have heard them suck air when we shoved the last dummy towards the chest,” Afon said, his face still twitching with mirth. “I unshielded my candle so it silhouetted the dummy, let out a moan, and pushed it towards them. Your two lads with the sticks were on it in a beat. Their hearts were in their throats, but they did right.”
“Good to hear it,” Cenric said. “Just need to teach them to support each other when they’re stressed.”
“The one with the candle had a good head,” Afon added. “He grabbed the coin bags and kicked the chest forward. That toppled the dummy. He tossed a bag to each of the others and beat his feet to get out.”
“Your last man was checking over his shoulder,” one of our other guards added. “He was doing a decent rear guard but didn’t see the gravel on the path and fell.
“How did you hide a dummy in the back of that cave?” Bleddyn asked. “It dead ends on a craggy nook.”
“The quake from the Battle at the Abbey opened a new crack back there. It’s too narrow to get through, but it looks like it runs over to the cave where Guto likes to build his crucibles.”
“I checked the other one out,” Bleddyn said. He looked at me and winked. “No bears, and only a few rockfalls. One or two cracks. Nothing larger than a cat could fit through what I saw.”
“That’s about what we have here,” Afon said. “A bit of crumble where some rock fell to make a nook, and it narrows to where I couldn’t squeeze more than about two paces in.”
The inductees made their way out. All three had their fists clenched around silver coins. One of Cenric’s men held his tunic out in a makeshift basket. Each youth dropped their load into his grip. The bag Dunstan carried had split open, so it was useless.
Cenric counted the coins.
“You’re three coins short, lads,” Cenric pronounced. “Go back and find them. Penda will take it out of your arses if you lost his coins. And bring Lord Penllyn’s chest back while you’re in there.”
“Yes, milord,” Dunstan said and frowned at his teammates. They followed him back into the cave.
“Give the dummy in the back another whack with your stick,” Afon called. “He might not be dead yet.” The men all laughed.
Emlyn was right. I needed to feed soon. I could hear their pulses. The youth’s hearts were still pounding with the excitement of the night. I leaned on the stone of the cliff close to the cave mouth as the others settled in around the fire. Cenric and his men had moved their camp out to this side of the hill.
“We’ll meet you back here in the morning,” Bleddyn told Cenric. “If I can pry my son away from his new children and wife, he can ride with us to show you the better herds.”
“If he won’t leave?” Cenric asked. “I remember the day my first was born. I didn’t get much sleep for another week, even when we had wet nurses to help with the feeding and care.”
“I still remember how to judge horseflesh,” Bleddyn said with a smile. “Horses are the lifeblood of Penllyn. My father taught me everything he could about the herds.”
A few moments later, one lad called success on finding a coin. Then the other two right after.
“I’ll get the chest. Give me the lamp,” Dunstan’s muffled whisper echoed from the cave. The other two exited first and dropped the found coins into Cenric’s waiting hand. He turned to look at the cave mouth.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. From inside the cave, Dunstan gasped. Then he wailed in fright.
9
Traces of Shadow
Soul was in my hand as I charged in. White magic from the goddess rippled through my cord from the Otherworld and pulsed into my steel.
The cave was full of nooks off the smooth main path. It was clear, with rocks and pebbles lining the sides. This wasn’t the first time the cave had been used for shenanigans.
First one curve, then a sharp bend. I didn’t bother with any of the side crevices. The energy that made my neck tingle was drawing me towards Dunstan. The glow of my sword showed he had dropped his lamp. The wick guttered once and went dim. The light of The Lady, goddess of Britannia showed me what I feared.
“Gwen, Seren!” I mentally shouted. “The darkness is back at the caves.” I linked my vision to the projection and felt Seren gasp.
This opening was large. A dozen paces across, perhaps. Dunstan was on his back, trying to crawl away from the shadowy mass. A long tendril of inky blackness stretched, writhing towards the youth’s leg.
Without thought, I pulled energy from my connection to the goddess into my left hand and flung the ball at the creature. The white energy bobbled in a slow, lazy arc and hit the pool of blackness and crackled through it. The tendril jerked back.
Somehow, throwing balls of light was more difficult than I imagined. They didn’t have any weight or substance, so I had to will them to go where I wanted. They didn’t seem to have any concern that I wanted them to zip. Instead they floated like a seed in the wind. I lunged instead of tossing another.
That damn darkness was fast. The pool of black darted back into the crevice, the one Afon must have hidden in. I pursued with Soul in front of me. The creature of darkness skittered away, deeper into the crack.
Merda!
Deodamnatus!
Thunor’s Short Hairs!
I called back the ball of light that hadn’t contacted the creature and parked it in the crevice and added two others to block the hole in the rock.
Dunstan was still on the floor, shaking. Emlyn and Afon charged in, blades bared.
“The shadow creature again,” I yelled and charged past them. “Don’t let it come back this way.”
Cenric was a few steps behind Afon. I pivoted outside the cave and ran past the Mercians. The other cave was a few hundred yards around the bend of the hill. I
stopped pumping energy into my blade, and the light blinked out. Cenric’s men wouldn’t be able to see me, so I tweaked my blood demon and pulled speed. I wanted that creature.
Too late. By the time I reached the cave mouth, the energy racing along my neck, the energy that had helped me sense its presence, pointed me away from the cave entrance. I shifted my charge and headed towards the copse of trees away from the hills. A red ripple of light flashed, and Gwen was there. She pulled forth a ball of The Lady’s energy and hung the white light above her.
Her hand reached out towards me. Commanding. I stopped and waited. Had I needed to breathe, I would be panting by now. Fortunately, that need hadn’t existed for six centuries, so I paused as Gwen closed her eyes and sent her mind out into the surrounding landscape.
“It is already a league away,” she said. “And above the trees. You’ll not be able to catch it.”
“It can fly?”
“Did it touch the ground any time you saw it?” she asked with a small grin, letting me know I had missed the obvious.
“Let us look at the cave,” Gwen suggested. Her arm slid around my waist for a quick hug, her hand settling on my left arm for the short walk back to the cliff face. I kept Soul in hand and enjoyed Gwen’s touch, despite the encounter that brought us together.
Guto’s clay-and-stone crucible still stood, though he had pulled it apart enough to recover the other bits of iron he had dropped in. The coals inside were wet, so the clay was cold to the touch.
Inside the cave, wood stood in stacks against the wall. The air was damp and musty.
Gwen stopped and pulled her hand back. I sensed her mind reaching out and probing the area. Hands out, palms down, she drifted around the cavern. Whatever path she was sensing led her deeper into the cave, back towards a crack in the wall. Bleddyn was correct. Nothing larger than a skinny cat or a rat would fit through that opening. A very dim glow filtered through the hole.
“Smart idea.” Gwen flashed me a smile. “Combat darkness with light. I saw you fling your ball at it right before I stepped into the mists.”
“Cenric’s men are not equipped to fight the supernatural,” I said. “That’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Emlyn and Afon huffed their way into the cave.
“Lady Mair,” Afon said as he leaned forward, hands on his thighs, “can you find less speedy foes?” He panted again. Even Emlyn looked winded. “I’m not as young as you, and can’t keep charging around the countryside to watch your back.”
“Half a year after that Battle at the Abbey,” Emlyn said, “and he’s still complaining about having to fight an army. At least you and I were there with him.”
“Two armies, milord,” Afon added with a grin. “Hundreds of undead and another hundred living Witch Hunters. Please”—he looked at me and grinned even larger—“if you’re going to smite another wizard, give me a warning. I don’t want to be in any caves when you do.”
“What did you find?” Emlyn looked at Gwen, not me. Smart. He was aware I had few magical abilities beyond making things glow.
“Death. Old death.”
“Not that wizard again?” Afon asked, his eyes darting around the cavern. He took a step back towards the entrance.
Bleddyn and Cenric walked in. The Mercian looked startled, then bowed once towards Gwen. Even among the Saxons, she had the air of nobility. Enough to get one of Penda’s thegns to acknowledge her unspoken status.
“Milady,” he said, “had I known you were in Penllyn, I would have presented the best wishes of His Grace, Penda of Mercia, in a more formal manner. He invites you to visit him soon?”
“Perhaps, milord,” Gwen said in her courtly tone. She softened her voice. “How is your wife? Has she recovered from the cough she had last I visited?”
“Somewhat,” Cenric said. “This winter’s cold has been hard on her. But the poultice you recommended seems to clear her lungs when she has a bout.”
“Her lungs are weak,” Gwen said. “I fear she’ll always be susceptible to cold air and smoke.”
“You Cymry and Saxons both need to learn from the old Romans,” I said. “I keep telling Bleddyn to add chimneys to his hearths.”
“We’d have to move the fires to the walls from the centre of the room, where they can shed their heat all around,” Bleddyn said. He held up a hand before I could respond. “I know. We’ll add your superb Roman heat to the floor of your cottage when we rebuild this spring. Once I see how it works, we’ll consider adding it to our keep.”
“Roman heat?” Cenric asked.
“Warm the floors, milord,” I said. “Use the hearth for cooking and supplemental heat. I hate having cold feet.”
“We can discuss hot floors later,” Emlyn interrupted. “Did you find whatever scared Dunstan?”
“Traces,” Gwen said.
“Traces?” Bleddyn asked. “Do you even know what it is?”
“If the creature is what I fear,” Gwen said, letting her gaze slide across the men, “an ancient evil has awakened. I have only heard whispers about this type of evil.”
“You’re being vague,” Emlyn said.
“Darkness. The spirit of an ancient being, perhaps related to our fae brethren. Definitely evil.”
“Fae?” Emlyn asked. “So cold iron to fight it?”
“Perhaps. Silver might also work.”
“Might?” Cenric interjected.
“I’ve never seen this creature before,” Gwen admitted. “If you find it, poke it with one metal, then the other. See which works best.”
10
Silver issues
Cenric strode into Bleddyn’s chambers at the top of the keep, and Bleddyn waved him towards a chair. Emlyn reached out and swung the door shut. The rest of us sat around the small hearth. Even Cadoc was there. He still wore a grin of joy. I had my heels on the stone ring, warming my feet again. The only members of Bleddyn’s council who weren’t present were Ruadh and Enid.
“I’ll send a messenger to the abbey in the morning,” Bleddyn said.
“I’m not sure how much use prayers of your priest will be against that… whatever it was,” Cenric said and accepted the mug Rhian handed him.
“Ruadh and Iolo might find information in their archives,” she said. “My brother the abbot tries to collect old knowledge and people with unique talents.”
I suppressed a chuckle. Her brother the abbot was harbouring a half-fae and a shifter. Neither of which we could mention in public. With Brother Hew’s talent for baking, I wondered if he was half-pwca.
I must have pushed that thought out. Seren chortled, and Gwen smiled.
“No,” Gwen sent to me and Seren. “Brother Hew is human and talented with matters of food.”
Rhian pursed her lips, glancing between us. She was observant enough to notice small unexplained mannerisms like her daughter’s chortle.
“How’s your son?” Bleddyn asked.
“Still shaken,” Cenric said. “At least he’s not quaking any longer. Damnedest thing, though, he’s got a white streak in his hair now. Right at his temple. Only one side, though.”
“I wondered if that would be the case,” Gwen said. “The few rumours I’ve heard say they drain life from their victims. He’s lucky Mair was there to drive it off.”
“Drains life?” Cenric said. His expression turned darker, more worried.
“When Dunstan said his foot and leg went cold as the cloud touched him,” Gwen continued, “I suspected the worst. This confirms it. Watch his constitution. If a white lock of hair is the worst he suffers, your son will be very lucky. Had Mair not been present, you’d be taking his dried and decayed bones home in a bag.”
“If any of us were left,” Cenric said. His fingers tightened around his wooden mug. “Whatever the hells that was, it might not have stopped with only one youngling.” He turned towards me. “How is it that Bleddyn’s swordmistress is also a sorceress who can summon light and wield a glowing sword?”
He looked towards Bledd
yn. “Apologies if I sound forward, Lord Penllyn, but I would appreciate answers to what I’ve seen tonight.”
Bleddyn turned to me. I looked at Gwen.
“Which gods do you follow, Cenric?” she asked.
“Penda allows the Roman priests and your own Cymry monks within his lands. The lords and their people, however, are free to choose as they each desire.” He glanced at the cross on Gwen’s chest. “I keep with the old ways. Gods of peace sound fine if your neighbour wants peace too. I’ve been in too many wars with my neighbours to not honour the gods of battle.”
“You know of the goddess of Britannia?”
“The one the Cymry monks claim is the mother of their saviour?” He nodded confirmation.
“She has accepted Mair and myself as her chosen,” Gwen said. “Just as I used The Lady’s magic to heal your wife, Mair can use the same divine energy in different ways. Her use of it, however, is limited to weapons.”
“One of you heals, and the other harms,” he said. “Interesting combination. Can you travel the way Her Grace does? Or are your talents limited to holding off an army with that glowing sword?”
“I had help with that army,” I said. Cenric looked towards Emlyn.
“The two of you alone could stop an army? That I believe.”
“We did have some help,” Emlyn admitted, his face neutral.
“Not much, from what I’ve heard,” Cenric said. He looked back at Gwen. “I extend Penda’s request that you come see him, the sooner the better. What happened tonight is news he likes to get from those who know the most.”
Gwen nodded.
“I will go with you,” Bleddyn said. Faced with what happened last year, and these new developments, Penllyn and Mercia should strengthen their ties.”
“Mair can go, too,” Gwen volunteered. She glanced at Emlyn, who nodded approval.
“Why me?”
“Fadog and his merry band are still out there,” Emlyn said. “Even though we split his cantref between Rhos and Penllyn, Oswiu is giving him sanctuary. And Fadog would like nothing better than to strike hard at Penllyn.”