A Whisper of Darkness

by Troy A Hill

  “You or I need to accompany Lord Penllyn,” I said. “And I can represent Gwen.”

  “Penda will like you,” Cenric said. He drained his mug and stood. “Penda likes to meet unique people. I’ll head out to camp with my men. Thank you for allowing us to move our camp inside the walls of the caer.”

  “We’ll depart in the morning,” Bleddyn said and stood to clasp Cenric’s arm. “My son and brother can stay here to help Rhian keep the cantref under control. Mair and I will ride out and help you get the horses for Penda.”

  Once the door had closed behind the Mercian, Seren uncovered the blade on her lap. One of the silver seaxes we had recovered from the Battle at the Abbey. Cenric had knocked before entering, and Seren had been ready with a sewing project to cover the blade.

  “As I was about to explain,” she said, her voice quiet until Emlyn cracked the door open and peered into the hall. He gave a nod that the hallway was clear. “There is a distinct impression of magical fire to heat the metal.”

  “Dragon fire?” I asked, remembering Guto’s earlier comment.

  “I’m not familiar enough with dragons to recognise its mark,” Seren said. “Could you or Uncle Emlyn go fetch me one to study?”

  “I’ll ask Penda if he has any lying around,” I returned her jest. “How many horses are you willing to trade for a dragon?” I asked Bleddyn.

  “Show me the dragon, and we will discuss it,” he said.

  “Back to magical fire,” Emlyn interrupted. “What would it take to unlock the magic binding the alloy in the blades?”

  “I’m not sure,” Seren said. “I can work on it with Guto, but I want to stay here in the keep for several weeks until I know that my new niece and nephew will be healthy. I’ll not be traipsing down to his caves and crucibles.”

  Emlyn looked at Gwen. “What about you?”

  “I need to track down that creature of darkness,” she said, tapping her index finger on her chin. “I would like to borrow Afon, if I may.” The way she said it was polite, however, even I knew not to argue or even negotiate. This was regal Gwen, First Disciple of the Goddess. I’d hate to see the man who would refuse such a request.

  “Of course,” Emlyn said. Smart of him to agree. “I’ll give him a silver sword and one of our cold iron daggers. If you catch up with this… cloud, pay attention to which one harms it, if either does.” He stroked his moustache like his brother did when lost in thought. “Speaking of which, what happens if neither blade works?”

  “I have the ability to cast a very destructive spell that should harm it,” she said.

  “The one that blasts the light of the sun? I remember,” he said. “We all were blinking and seeing spots for a few minutes after that. Why didn’t you warn us?”

  “You seeing spots wasn’t the problem. That spell only harms undead. It pulls light from the sun and releases it in a bright burst.”

  Bleddyn whistled one long tone. “You did warn Mair, and she took cover?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t harm her.”

  “So,” I said, shifting the discussion off of me and my undead nature. “Bleddyn and I will go soothe Penda’s ego. Gwen and Afon will track the monster. Seren will stay here and keep an eye on the babies while she works with Guto to break that enchantment that let the Witch Hunters alloy silver and steel. Then Emlyn will destroy all of those silver swords and knives.” I had to repress the urge to shudder at the thought of those silver blades.

  “Not until we know what it takes to harm that creature,” Emlyn said. His voice was quiet, yet firm. I shot him a glare.

  “No,” he said, reading my unspoken demand. “I will not destroy weapons that may help us fight whatever that thing is. I will not lose a man to that thing if I could give him a weapon we already have to protect himself.”

  Damn it! But he was right. The weapons in question, however, could also harm me. And we had way too many of them in the armoury for me to feel any comfort.

  11

  Two Score Head

  Amidst all the snorts and whinnies, Cenric’s men worked well with the grooms that Bleddyn brought. They worked to bridle and tie leads to each of the horses.

  “Milord,” a tall, thin man said as he rode towards Bleddyn, “I’ve culled the last half dozen from this herd for your inspection.”

  “The best of the herd?” Cenric asked, voice firm.

  “Of course, milord.”

  “Mikkel knows horseflesh,” Bleddyn said. “He is second to our herd master.” He and Cenric circled their own horses around the ones Mikkel had separated to one side of the field.

  “You mean he is your herd master,” Cenric said with a laugh.

  “Master Rees is our herd master in name until he passes.” Bleddyn chuckled. “Despite his failing memory, he has served Penllyn and our herds well. You are right. We were fortunate he came to us when he did. I was having trouble finding any of our grooms with his level of insight.”

  “Unusual that you’ve got a slave that high in your main endeavour,” Cenric said.

  Bleddyn laughed. “Just as Rees is master in name only, Mikkel is indentured in name only until this autumn. He proved himself loyal last fall when Fadog and the Witch Hunters attacked the caer.”

  “He has a good eye for horses,” Cenric agreed. “I’ve not found one choice of his disagreeable.” He looked at his men.

  “Get these over with the others,” the thegn called.

  “Would have been better to get ones that are saddle-broken,” Cenric said, sighing. “Penda wants horses now.”

  I watched Cenric’s men coax the steeds towards the growing group. One of the new mares got skittish. Dunstan was the man nearest her and moved in with his mount. I could hear him cooing, his voice calm. The mare, however, was having none of it. She reared.

  “Get the woman in there,” one of the other youths called. “Dunstan needs help again.”

  “Quiet yer yap, Urthbert!” Dunstan slid off his mount and worked to calm the horse.

  “Don’t let the mare scare yer hair grey again,” the other youth called. “Gramp Dunstan.”

  There was a single swath of grey in the youth’s dark hair, just above his temple. Dunstan set his shoulders rigid and turned his back on his taunters. I felt for the young man.

  “Lads,” Cenric called. “Enough. You weren’t in the cave to see what Dunstan and Lady Mair saw. If it’s what Lady Gwen says it might be, you’d have pissed yourself and come out gibbering like the fools who empty the chamber pots at Penda’s hold.”

  Sullen at the chastisement, they turned to their tasks. Urthbert muttered as he passed near Dunstan, who went rigid. His hands balled into fists, and he shot the other youth a glare. Poor guy. I wouldn’t blame him if he punched either of his tormentors. Cenric had the right of it. Neither of them had been in the cave with that dark cloud. Dunstan didn’t deserve their taunts. But if I interfered and sided with him, I’d just add more fuel to their fire.

  That evening found us far into the borderlands. The horses Mikkel selected for Penda had all been bridle-trained, so they were easy to lead. Only one or two were any trouble. And those were few and far between.

  Bleddyn brought half a dozen men with him. Siors, Talian, and other guards took care of setting up camp and setting picket lines for the herd. Bleddyn himself was quick to lend a hand or grab a chore. Where Cenric directed his men and watched until he was needed, Bleddyn was hands-on with the various tasks.

  Following his example, I helped one of the guards set up a tent he said was for me, though I didn’t tell him I doubted I’d spend much time in it. With the goddess feeding me energy, I rarely need my undead slumber. And never at night.

  I caught Talian’s eye and nodded towards the tree line near where the horses were grazing. He stood and brought his plate of food with him.

  “I need your help on this trip,” I said once we were out of earshot of the others.

  “Of course, Lady Mair,” he said, looking puzzled.

>   “You remember my diet?”

  “Yes…” he said hesitantly. I held the plate of bread and meat under his nose. “I can’t eat this.”

  “Oh! What should I do?”

  “Walk with me, stand close,” I suggested.

  He closed in shoulder to shoulder as we continued our stroll. I tilted my plate and let the food slide onto his so those back at camp wouldn’t see the action.

  “I’ll get a belly if I have to eat your meals too,” he said as he plucked off a hunk of cheese.

  “Take smaller portions,” I suggested. “Only you and Bleddyn are aware of my nature. He can help with my cup, but Lord Penllyn will have to stay close to Cenric.”

  “Cup?”

  “Drink normally,” I said. “When your cup is about half gone, drift over towards me. I’ll dump half of mine into yours when I can do so unnoticed.”

  “Is that why Brother Ruadh is always taking your cup?”

  “And Emlyn,” I said. “They both splash only a little wine or ale into the cup to make it appear as though they’ve filled it.”

  “Ahh,” he said, and took another bite off his full plate.

  “For the drink, just drift near me every so often.”

  Talian was smart. He wouldn’t need much coaching.

  “Don’t drink too much early on. Even the weak ale will get you drunk if you have too much.”

  “I will try not to, milady,” he said. He’d already eaten half the food from the plate. “Sorry,” he said, reading my expression. “I was the youngest of six brothers and learned to eat fast or I didn’t get enough food.”

  I laughed. Too many centuries had passed since I had to worry about eating real food.

  “You won’t have that problem if you stay close,” I said and turned to lay my hand on his shoulder. He had gotten past the training the Witch Hunters drilled into him early on. He was aware I could invade someone’s mind if I caught their gaze. With Talian, I wouldn’t try.

  “Your discretion and your willingness to help is more than I can repay,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “Lady Mair, I will always support you. I have told no one about you.” He stood straight. “Lord Emlyn had a long talk with me, but I already knew I must never say a word. Not even to Bethan. I never talked about you or what happened, not even with Lady Enid after our sword lessons.”

  Our stroll brought us to the creek. It gurgled down the gentle slope from the copse of trees. The dim light of the setting sun was enough for us to see.

  A muffled thump and a cry of pain rang out from inside the woods. Talian jerked his head around, and his hand darted to the hilt of his blade, but he didn’t draw. Instead he dropped his plate on the grass and leapt across the stream before I thought to hold him back.

  I shrugged and leapt with him. Talian pushed his way through the scrub at the edge of the wood, then stopped.

  Dunstan and Urthbert struggled in a small clearing.

  “Fool,” Urthbert hissed. Dunstan grabbed hold of his tunic, and one fat fist cocked back for another blow. The smaller lad used both his hands to hold the blow back.

  Dunstan tried a leg sweep. Urthbert, however, used the shift in their stance to shove the larger fellow off balance. They twirled, and Urthbert’s eyes slid to where Talian and I stood.

  “Yer lady friend’s come to save you again,” Urthbert hissed.

  Dunstan shot a glance at us as they rotated more. His eyes simmered with increased fury.

  “Save him?” I grinned. “No, I came to watch Dunstan thrash you. Looks like you’ve already taken a few good knocks for your bad manners.”

  Dunstan growled and twisted his fist out of Urthbert’s grasp. He used his bulk to shove the smaller man back against a tree. His adversary’s head bounced off the bark, and the breath whooshed out of his chest. Dunstan let him collapse. He then wheeled on me.

  “I don’t need your help,” he growled and tried to step past. I stepped in front of him.

  “They don’t understand what was in that cave,” I said. “And they better pray hard to whatever gods they follow they never find out what that was.”

  The Mercian lad blinked. His eyes still simmered with rage.

  “Just stay away from me,” Dunstan said and pushed past me.

  I shook my head and let him pass.

  12

  Tamworth

  “Welcome to Tamworth,” Bleddyn said as we crested the hill outside of the town.

  “Penda lives here?” I asked.

  I must have gotten used to the size of Caer Penllyn. Even though I had spent many years, centuries even, visiting the courts and halls and keeps of nobles and rulers across Europe, Penda’s seat of governance was enough to cause me to pause.

  The hill fort was more than a caer or a fortress. It was a small city. Bleddyn’s own Caer Penllyn was a large village contained in a walled fort atop a hill. Tamworth sat on a much lower hill. The main town straddled either side of a river. But one side climbed a low rise. Inside the town, a ring of walls enclosed what I assumed was the royal centre.

  “Penda lives where Penda chooses,” Cedric said over his shoulder. “He travels often. But he needs a location for his government and his queen and children to live.”

  “Big place,” I said.

  “Wait until you meet His Grace,” Cenric said. “Too many people assume that a large royal town means a large royal view of themselves.”

  “Penda doesn’t think to highly of himself?” I asked.

  “His Grace will be most taken with you, milady,” Cenric said, then kicked his horse forward to overtake his men at the front of our pack.

  Bleddyn slowed to ride beside me.

  “You know how often I say I don’t want to be another Arthur whenever Lady Gwen gets that look in her eyes?”

  I nodded.

  “Penda is the closest thing we have to an Arthur in these times,” he said. “A powerful king, but not one bent on conquest. He deals in good faith and uses the might of his army only when he needs to. His primary concern is Mercia and the underkingdoms who owe him allegiance.”

  “A king that isn’t out for conquest,” I said, grinning. “But who has an empire?”

  “As Cenric said,” Bleddyn said, chuckling, “Penda will be most taken with you. As the elder sister in our family, I trust you to act wisely and not promise Penllyn’s efforts or wealth to him as he tries to woo you.”

  “I have enough people to look after now,” I said. “I don’t need a king to worry about, too.”

  Guards patrolling the streets called greetings to Cenric and waved us on. Even with my hair long and tied behind my head, I drew more than a few interested glances from the guards, despite wearing men’s trousers and Soul on my belt.

  Cenric directed his men, including Dunstan and the other two youths, to take their line of horses off towards Penda’s stables.

  “We’ll ask Penda to have your sword-ringing ceremony soon, lads,” he said to Dunstan and the others. “I’ll send word once I hear when.”

  As we let our horses climb the winding road of muddy earth up towards the gates of the inner palisade walls, Bleddyn slowed his mount until he rode by my side.

  “I’m usually allowed one man to carry a blade within their version of a caer. You can be that man today.” His eyes were light with his jest.

  “As long as I don’t have to drop my trousers to prove my gender,” I said. He chuckled. “What about inside Penda’s keep?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Bleddyn said. “Only Penda’s sworn men, and only those with the duty for the day, are armed within those walls.” He glanced at my blade.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Does Emlyn do his death stare when he hands over his blades?”

  Bleddyn laughed and nodded.

  “Poor guard almost wet himself when he realised who he was trying to stare down. And Penda’s house guards are very difficult to intimidate.”

  “So is Emlyn.”

  “You’re allowed a belt knife, but not a se
ax.” He paused and looked me over head to toe as we rode. “I’m not sure what Penda will think of you.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “The king of Mercia collects people,” he said.

  “Slaves?” I asked. “I’d make a lousy slave. Especially given my habit of running a blade into anyone who tries to force me.”

  “No,” Bleddyn said, “Penda doesn’t buy slaves. But once he decides he wants you, he’ll try to find the price he needs to keep you interested in staying near him.”

  “Penllyn has my heart and my loyalty,” I said. “And he’ll have to petition the goddess for any changes in my promises to her.” I laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about me. I have been managing noble relationships for more years than you can imagine.”

  “That’s why I shall trust the opinions of my elder sister,” he jested.

  Once we reached the gatehouse for the inner fort, the size of Penda’s capitol impressed me. Three Caer Penllyns could be swallowed in here and still leave room to drive a heard of horses around the outer perimeter.

  Cenric paused by the gate guard. By now, he had only one of his men with him. The thane motioned, and his man pulled his baldric over his head and wrapped the leather around the sword. I had figured Cenric was the type to keep his own blade. He didn’t disappoint my expectations.

  “Bleddyn, of Penllyn,” Cenric said to the guard. “Don’t you recognise him? Aren’t you king of Gwynedd, now, Your Grace?”

  “Hardly,” Bleddyn said, but he smiled along with Cenric’s jest. His eyes told me the truth. He had no illusions and no desire to take that title. Bleddyn pulled his own baldric off and waved at Siors and the other men. All had their weapons off, ready to pass them to the gate guard.

  “Then you’re sworn to that king of Powys that Penda installed?”

  “I’ve bent Penllyn’s knee to no king,” Bleddyn replied. “I have no intention to, either, unless my people benefit greatly from the exchange.”

  “And you don’t want a crown for yourself? You’re a better man than most I know,” Cenric said.