by Troy A Hill
Mihangel and I bowed, though not as low as Ludló. After six centuries, I didn’t put much stock in kings. The king of the land, however, was someone who could make my life difficult, so I gave all kings respect due their station until they proved themselves unworthy of it.
“How long were you watching, Your Grace?” Mihangel asked.
“I arrived just in time to watch you drop your stick and start the match,” Penda said. “Old friend, there is still room for you at my table.”
“I’ve trained my replacements, Your Grace.” Mihangel shook his head. “My battle planning days are behind me.”
“A monk’s life is not your way, Mihangel,” Penda responded. “But you have earned your rest.” He reached out to Mihangel and grasped his arm in the warrior way.
“Milady.” The Mercian king tilted his head towards me. “You would do me a great honour if you would accompany me on a walk about the fort. I find my nights restless and enjoy exercise most evenings.”
After the fight he witnessed, I wasn’t surprised he wanted to talk. I remembered, however, the conversation I’d had Thea. I wondered if that was why Penda was here now. To ask about the Witchers?
“You flatter me, Your Grace,” I said. “I could use some night air.”
He offered me his arm. I took a breath, reminding myself to appear mortal. The scent of power—not the musk of a warrior, something different—filled my nose. What had Bleddyn said on our ride into Tamworth? Penda was the closest thing Britannia had to Arthur in this age? Was this some sign from the goddess? I needed a moment to collect myself after that rush.
I turned to Talian instead of answering. “Find a place for these on the wall,” I said and passed him the two practice swords.
“I’ll show him where,” Ludló said and waved his mug towards a corner. “They’ll be there whenever you need them, milady.”
“Thank you, captain.” I cocked my head towards Talian. Anything to get my mind off the Mercian king and his aura of power. Why was I sensitive to him like this? “Is there an hour or two free when I can have part of the floor here to train Talian?”
“Our men rarely come in before midday, milady,” he replied. “I’ll leave word that the floor is yours each morning. Emlyn asked the same for his men whenever he came.”
“Invite Siors and the others,” I told Talian. “I won’t expect them, however.” I stepped towards Penda. “My apologies,” I said.
He held out his left arm again. No sword was on his belt. He trusted his men. Most kings did. Only when it was too late did they learn not to. And yet with the respect for him I observed in the surrounding men, I didn’t believe Penda had to worry about that.
As I slid my arm through his and my fingers touched his bare arm, a charge pulsed where our flesh met. The sensation was like how I tingled when I touched Gwen or Emlyn. Energy of a shared connection.
Once we were outside, only a single man followed us. A single guard for the King of Mercia.
“Your people must respect you,” I ventured. “Or you are very trusting of them, Your Grace.”
“Being a king sounds easy …” he began. “Every man seems to desire a crown. Little do they know how hard being a good king is. Being a man of my word, however, and protecting my people, that I can do, and do well.” He chuckled. “I figured out I didn’t need to worry about what a good king would do. I only had to do what I would do as a man of honour.”
“You seem different,” I said. “The stories I’ve heard of your battles show you’re willing to get the task at hand done, then head home. Was it Cadwallon?” I paused, searching my memory for the tales Bleddyn had told.
“Ah, Edwin’s fall,” Penda said and led me towards one of the dimmer sections near the walls of the inner fort. “Edwin had been almost as close as a foster brother. The same to King Cadwallon of Gwynedd. Many of us aided the dispossessed Edwin. None of that mattered when he took his throne back.”
“He wasn’t a good king, then?” I asked.
“Edwin turned out to not be a man of honour,” Penda replied, and he motioned for me to stay. He ducked into a small shed near a side gate to the compound. A few seconds later, he emerged holding a lamp, which hung from a metal loop. Men near the gate had a small fire going. They snapped to attention as he approached. He clapped them on the shoulders in greeting or took their hand in his. Comforting. Laughter drifted towards me.
The guard who had been following us slid next to me. One man by the gate pulled a length of straw from a nearby pile and used it to transfer flame to Penda’s lamp.
“The men like him,” I said to a guard near me.
“He is good for Mercia,” he said. “We all appreciate his dedication to the people.”
“What is your name?” I asked.
The man next to me was an average Saxon, with a dark bushy beard and curly dark hair. As Penda returned, his lamp shed enough light that I could see the grey streaks highlighting both his beard and his temples.
“Baldwin, milady,” he said before he stepped back into the shadows.
“My apologies, milady,” Penda said. He held the small lamp in his right hand and offered me his left elbow again. I slid my hand in, careful to keep my touch on the fabric. I didn’t need to get the charge from his skin again. He sizzled with power. Not undead or shifter power—this was something different. As though his confidence was the result of divine providence.
We continued along into the dark along the inner fortifications.
“I enjoy the evening breeze, when we don’t get the biting winter winds,” he said. “And this allows me to greet the men who have duty each night. You were asking about Cadwallon?”
“Yes. Interesting that you formed an alliance with a Cymry king, let alone one of a different religion. You are a pagan, are you not?”
Penda chuckled. “Being a good king doesn’t mean being religious,” he said. “Cadwallon’s faith, or lack of it, mattered not. We formed an alliance because we had the same goal: to put an end to Edwin’s aggressions against our people.”
“Your priests don’t mind mixing Woden and Thunor with all the Roman saints?” I asked. Woden was the Saxon’s father-god, Thunor one of his sons.
“I don’t care what my priests think,” Penda said, a smile forming on his lips. “They give their counsel before I decide Mercia’s actions. Then they support that decision, or I find new priests.”
“The Roman bishops and priests seem more concerned that the kings of each land listen to them,” I said.
“Your brother has a unique relationship with his local bishop,” Penda said. “Even the rest of the Cymry Church pulled their support from Cadwallon once he rampaged against Edwin’s people. The commoners were not to blame for Edwin. It’s no wonder that Cadwallon got the end he deserved. I almost sent Oswald a tribute for getting rid of him. Bleddyn’s father was wise enough to come back with me. We left Cadwallon and Oswald to argue over who should be a head shorter. Only the lords of Gwynedd who owed allegiance to Cadwallon stayed with him on his rampage, though many slunk away the first chance they had. I miss neither Edwin nor Cadwallon.”
“Divine justice served?” I asked.
We had shifted towards a bend in the walls. Another shed stood against the wooden and earth walls, with a ladder up to a raised platform just beyond. The feeble light of Penda’s lamp lit a familiar face.
“Just leave me alone!” Dunstan hissed. Then his eye recognised Penda. He hastily bowed.
“Is there a problem, son?”
“He wants to avoid me,” I said, sighing. “Did you hear of the shadow of darkness that attacked us when Dunstan here”—I waved towards the young man—“and two others of Lord Cenric’s men were gaining their swords?” Even now, at the memory of that creature, I felt the prickles on the back of my neck. That faded quickly, though.
“Ah, yes,” Penda said. “There is no shame to in your actions, young man. I’ve seen Lady Mair and her swords take on a score and a half of our best men. She bested them
all.”
Dunstan kept his eyes fixed on the ground and shrugged.
“I told Lord Cenric that we would have your ringing ceremony tomorrow evening,” Penda said and clapped the young man on his arm. “You and the others be sure to visit the baths before that. We don’t need more stench of unwashed warriors in the great hall tomorrow. The others in Cenric’s retinue already forget that water is for cleaning and not just making ale.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Dunstan said. He glanced once at Penda and quickly shifted his gaze back down.
“On your way,” Penda said. “Go tell the others about the baths. Thunor knows that may be the only time they remember to visit them.”
Dunstan gave another bow and stepped to the side so we could get by.
Once we were past, he jogged back towards the main section of the compound.
“The reports of that encounter seem…” Penda said. He paused, searching for the right term.
“Incredulous?” I prompted. “I still don’t believe what I saw. I don’t even know what it was.”
“I heard from Cenric that it was you who ran out of the cave, with your sword aglow, to give the creature chase. He said you left balls of light hanging in the air with neither lamp nor candle. I only know of one other woman who could do such magic.”
I stayed quiet, not sure how to respond.
“You and Lady Gwen seem to have similar traits.” He stopped and turned towards me. “Why is that?”
“We share the same goddess,” I said. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have.
“Neither my priests, of what you would call the pagan religion, nor your Roman priests can make balls of light,” Penda said. “The only sword I have ever heard of that glows was Arthur’s, and he’s been dead for a century now. How?”
Penda’s eyes probed my face. I sighed again and raised my hand. I reached down for the cord to the goddess and pulled just enough energy for a small ball of light. Barely brighter than a candle flame.
“Like this, Your Grace,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Gods were something I only paid lip service to,” he whispered. You say this is from your goddess?”
“I’ve met her a few times, usually in dreams,” I said. “However, I’ve met her in person a few times.”
“What does this goddess of yours look like?” he asked. Just over his shoulder, the extra light from my small orb penetrated far enough to illuminate Baldwin. And something else.
“GWEN!” I shouted in my mind. I shoved Penda off to the side and cried out to the guards.
20
Her Champion
Baldwin drew his blade as my eyes and shout gave away trouble. He spun with his sword barely clear of its scabbard before the creature was upon him.
Fur, teeth, and claws flashed in the night.
Deodamnatus! Another shifter. And me without a sword.
Baldwin tried to slice it with his blade. A lupine face snapped at his neck. He twisted to avoid the fangs, and his blade flashed in the light on the far side, out of my reach. He scored a hit. It wouldn’t do much harm, however. Shifters healed fast.
“Dearest?” I felt Gwen and Seren link to my thoughts, so I shared my vision with them.
“Oh dear,” Seren sent.
Baldwin blocked a blow and stepped in front of Penda and myself. He lunged in before I could warn him not to.
A blood drenched clawed hand erupted from Baldwin’s back as he lurched forward. Baldwin’s gasp and cry turned to a frothy wheeze as he shook. The shifter growled and flung the dying guard towards the wall.
I pumped my hand full of energy and flung the glowing orb at the wolf creature. The orb didn’t fly so much as drift lazily through the air. I cursed at it to move faster. The ball of light ignored me.
The orb lit up my adversary. Shape partially human, it had a wolf’s face and long hairy legs and arms, covered only by a stained and dirt-encrusted tunic. Jet-black eyes glared back at me. They should have been wolf eyes to match the rest of the half-human form.
It snarled and dodged the orb. The creature used its momentum to swing around and launch a kick at me.
Crap, it was fast. I pulled energy from my blood demon and spun out of the way, sliding on the damp grass with unsure footing. I went down, tumbling below the arc of its clawed foot.
The creature would be on Penda if I didn’t rise. Damn! I wanted a sword. Baldwin’s blade was under his corpse, in the wrong direction from Penda.
The ground in front of me glowed white. A rock? No, a round gem. A red serpentine figure looked out at me, then flashed back into the mist inside the gem. I had last seen that little red dragon in the gem when I wielded The Lady’s sword at the Battle of the Abbey.
I pushed myself to my knees, and my right hand grabbed the gem. The hilt under it slid into my palm. I thrusted my legs out and pulled the Sword of Light from the ground with a rasp of steel on stone. The creature’s yellow eyes darted between Penda and my glowing sword. It snatched at the blade as I lunged in. Fast, again.
Damn!
“Guards! To me!” Penda bellowed from the grass.
I pulled blood energy and twisted back away from another slash of the creature’s claws. Penda sucked in a breath. He called again.
The Sword glowed with The Lady’s divine energy. I plunged it straight at the shifter to see which way it dodged. To my left. Another thrust, and it sidestepped again. Away from Penda. I dodged a swipe and stepped in front of Penda.
“Guards!” Penda bellowed and struggled to his feet. “To me! Guards!” he yelled, and repeated yet again, giving them a sound trail to follow. Penda moved along the wall towards Baldwin’s crumpled form.
I sidestepped towards Penda, trying to keep myself between him and the shifter. The creature slashed at me, a low growl echoing from its chest.
Penda was beside me, Baldwin’s sword in hand before him. He lunged in and slashed at the creature. It sidestepped, so I sliced the Sword of Light at it. The shifter yelped as the glowing metal bit into its flesh.
“Your blade can’t hurt it,” I said to Penda and pivoted for another strike. Feet pounded behind us as men—probably the ones from the small gate—charged in.
The creature was fast. It leapt backward then up. With this many witnesses, I didn’t want to pull blood energy to use my undead speed. The creature jumped over the wall.
“What was that thing?” one of the guards croaked. Then he recognised Penda. “Are you injured, Your Grace?”
“I’m fine, thanks to Lady Mair,” Penda said.
More men came running, their breathing laboured. Their blades were naked in the night.
“Get a search party,” Penda said to the new men. “A creature, a beast…”
“A shapeshifter,” I added. “Half human, half wolf.”
“Headed down into the village,” Penda said. “Get more men, at least a score. Search the village.”
“It could shift back to human,” I said. The newer men looked puzzled and unsure.
“Lady Mair speaks the truth,” Penda said, his voice firm. He did glance at me with an eyebrow raised in question. Shifters weren’t common knowledge, and his look let me know he wasn’t sure about them or about what I had just said.
“Look for anyone who is bleeding. Sword wounds to the torso.” I pointed to my own side, at the two spots I had connected with the shifter. “Be warned, though, your blades won’t damage it.”
I realised my blade still glowed. The men were staring at it. I gave a mental command to stop. The light dimmed.
“What will, then?” one man asked. “We can’t all make our swords glow like that.”
“Magic,” I said. “Or silver. Do you have any weapons made of silver?”
“The metal is too soft to hold in a fight,” Penda said. “And too valuable to make into flimsy blades of no use.”
“Then don’t engage it,” I said. “Work to drive it from the town.”
Penda weighed my words, then gave a curt not to his me
n. “Do as she says. I don’t want our people hurt. One man dead is too many for tonight.”
More men were pounding towards us, blades out. I recognised a few of the ones I had faced on the practice floor. Ludló was among them.
“I heard the orders, Your Grace,” he said. The guard captain began dispatching his men to the tasks Penda set. Once the men moved away to their tasks, he turned towards me.
“Now how did you come by a sword, milady?”
“I have a goddess who likes me,” I said and shrugged. At least the Sword of Light wasn’t glowing anymore.
Behind Ludló, two men straightened Baldwin’s body and draped a cloak over his still form. Penda retrieved his lantern; the candle had somehow stayed lit through all of that commotion.
“However she found it,” Penda said, “Lady Mair may carry weapons in all of Mercia, including this compound and our keep. You would have a new king to crown if she hadn’t pulled it from the ground.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Ludló said and glanced at me. “You seem to have a knack for making blades glow, milady. Why is that?”
“Pledge yourself as a disciple of an ancient Celtic goddess,” I said, “and she might let you do the same.” I glanced at his chest. A hammer of Thunor hung from a cord around his neck.
“Should I meet your goddess, I will ask about that,” he said and chuckled. “You are full of surprises, milady.” He nodded at me, then lengthened it towards Penda. “I will remain with you, Your Grace, until you are safely back at the keep.”
“Do you have shape-shifters here?” I asked as we headed back towards the keep.
“Tales of them to scare the children,” Penda said, then he let the conversation fade.
“Any wolf-shifters in Cymru?” I asked Gwen.
“There was one small pack when Arthur was King,” Gwen sent. “But he and his men hunted them down.” She paused. “It’s possible that a pack member might have escaped. Ruadh said shifters can live long lives when their kin aren’t trying to kill them off.”