A Whisper of Darkness

by Troy A Hill

  “My husband has been hearing Father Adda’s proposal for adding men with special weapons to our lands,” she said. “And the priest will back my proposal to Oswiu for my daughter’s abbey.”

  “Do you need his help?”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “Paeda’s zealous conversion may go far in getting my request approved. Deira is so contentious, and the Bernician king is vying for control. My husband has greater sway with Aethelwald of Deira than Oswiu, but that may not last. The Deiran king is nephew to Oswiu. It’s far better I get a royal decree from Oswiu if I’m to set my daughters in an abbey beyond our borders. I understand that if I use Father Adda’s recommendation, we’ll have to give their guild favoured status at not only the abbey…”

  “And here in Mercia?”

  She nodded. “I see little downside to the arrangement. Your face, however, revealed extreme doubt, even though your lips stayed silent tonight.”

  Cyn paused for a moment. She again took my hand in hers.

  “You protected our people when the guild’s spokesperson fainted dead away. You’ve earned a fair hearing among friends. Speak in confidence if you must. This is your chance to help me understand the consequences if I make a bargain with Adda.”

  “Protecting kin, among political manoeuvering.” Despite my reluctance, I didn’t want the guild to get any more of a presence here. “This needs to stay between us,” I said.

  “Of course, Mair,” she said.

  So I shared my ordeal at the hands of Onion Breath and Hunchback with her. A version that, while true, left out much of why they wanted me. In tonight’s tale, I was merely a woman alone in the countryside they found and used for their own pleasure.

  “Oh, dear,” Cynewise said as my story unwound. She gripped my hand hard as I detailed the battle. Because of my reputation with weapons, I could convert my blood-demon-fuelled rage into a desperate battle by an injured woman against two aggressors. I used the word “blade” often to imply that I had taken Hunchback’s seax after I struck him down.

  “What happened to the young apprentice who helped you?”

  “Lady Gwen came by right after the fight,” I said and swirled my cup some more before lifting it to my lips. After that much talking, a normal human would need a drink. “He was free to return to his farm. Last I heard, he had sworn off anything to do with the guild.”

  “I thought you would tell me of the Battle of the Abbey,” she said. “The information Lord Chamberlain has passed along indicated they captured you protecting Lord Cadoc’s new bride.”

  “That is true,” I said. “Did your spymaster also share what he learned about the tall Norseman with the Witch Hunter Seeker?”

  “He did,” she whispered. Her own flesh paled at the mention of him. “Poor Wassa…” She wrapped her arms about herself and repressed a shudder. “None of this, however, is provable.”

  “Do not challenge the integrity of the guild unless you possess irrefutable proof,” I said. “They have the ear of the Bishop of Rome. By his authority, they have taken down several nobles across Europe. The best you can do against them is thwart their plans and make them look elsewhere.”

  Cynewise resumed her touch on my arm. “Tell me about the Battle at the Abbey, please. I’d like to know what really happened there. I need to understand these Witch Hunters.”

  Another half an hour passed as I told my tale. I paused often. She likely believed it was because of emotions. To be honest, I tensed at the thought of how Lecerf had controlled me. What I paused for, though, was to apply my filter to what I told her. I had to remove all mention of my nature. The Witchers wanted Cadoc’s sword. That was our official story. The one Bleddyn and Emlyn and I had agreed to.

  I needed to let the Queen know, however, the depths the guild lowered themselves to. They wanted a holy relic, and the hypocrites harboured two wizards—witches, if you will—and used the magic they claimed to be against.

  As I wound down the story, detailing how Gwen was “injured” by the spell bolt, the Queen gripped my hand tighter.

  “The sword you used,” she said, “it was the one you protected Penda with, correct?”

  “It was,” I said. “It shattered against the black staff the witcher used to make the dead walk. The collision of the two caused quite a commotion.”

  “The walls here in Tamworth rattled that night,” she said. “We get shakes so seldom, and that was right after a feast day.” She paused and held my eyes for a moment. “I see now why you’ve been resisting my advances tonight,” she whispered. She gave my hand one more squeeze, then pulled hers back to her lap. “You have a complicated heart, my dear. Gwen and Emlyn. Do they know of each other?”

  I smiled and raised my cup to my lips. Silence was my best option.

  “As I said earlier,” Gwen’s thought came into my mind, “Cynewise is a force to be reckoned with.”

  30

  Funerals

  The funeral pyres had burned most of the day on the plain outside Tamworth. The bodies of Urthbert and the other men were laid out with wooden spears next to them, round wooden-and-leather shields across their bellies. Funerals for warriors.

  Along with the families of the men killed, the nobles of both Mercia and Penllyn stood to observe. Bleddyn, Talian, and I came to represent Penllyn. Cenric and Dunstan were there, along with several of Cenric’s men. Ludló and Lazlow, with a dozen of the guards from the Mercian war band, stood with us. Cynewise had also ridden out with her priest.

  Only one of the deceased had not followed the Saxon gods. The priest prayed the prayers for dead, standing at the head of the non-pagan. He let his holy symbol drift wide as he moved it side to side, making the sign of the cross above all the deceased. Better to be inclusive, I guessed.

  Penda himself lit the blazes. Then he and the rest of us stood silent. Earlier, in his study, the priest, Father Adda, had insisted on burial instead of cremation.

  Penda had silenced the protests of the priests from Northumbria and the priest who served his wife.

  “We’ve just had one of our men rise from the dead and murder our people,” he said. “Can you guarantee no others will?”

  Even Father Adda was silent in the face of that request, but he didn’t still his tongue for long.

  “We await your word, Your Grace,” Adda said to Penda once the fires were lit. “We can have a score of men with special weapons and the power of our guild riding through Mercia, seeking the creatures who have disturbed your people.”

  Penda kept his gaze on the pyres and remained silent. Adda bent forward to catch the eye of Cynewise, who stood next to Penda.

  “We would be most happy to give counsel to Oswiu about your queen’s desire to establish an abbey in Bernicia,” Adda said.

  Cynewise shifted her eyes back to the pyre, her lower lip tucked in under her upper teeth.

  “Thank you for the offer, good father,” she said, her eyes never leaving the pyre. “We’ve shifted our attention to Aethelwald of Deira. He is eager for Mercian funds and favour.”

  “Ah, but our word carries great weight with His Grace in Bernicia,” Adda said. “This could further unite your two kingdoms.”

  “We are done speaking of this,” Cynewise said. “My son has allowed your men in his kingdom. We shall observe how well your guild behaves there. You must earn our trust, not demand it.”

  She turned away from the fires and motioned to her priest and the guards assigned to her. They mounted their horses and rode back into Tamworth.

  Penda turned his attention to the Witch Hunter waiting next to him.

  “Your presence here seems to have coincided with the arrival of evil to our land,” Penda said. “I’m curious why these creatures, first the wolf creature, then a walking corpse with blades at night harasses our people just as you arrive with promises of salvation.”

  That caught the Witch Hunter off guard. He stammered a few syllables, his cheeks going red.

  Penda continued before he could say anything. �
��You had best hope I never find a connection between your guild and these strange happenings. If I do, you have my oath I will call forth the entire fyrd, all the kings and their war bands beholden to Mercia. I will ride the length and breadth of this island to drive every single member of your guild from our shores.”

  I wanted to hug Penda right then. He had his gaze locked on Father Adda’s face. I could hear the witcher’s pulse racing, and his face reddened.

  “We never… You dare accuse us?”

  “Accuse?” Penda chuckled. “If that is what you believe you heard, then perhaps there is guilt to uncover. I shall direct resources to find out more about your guild, and just what your men do when they assist a king or lord.”

  “But your son has promised…”

  “My son is not king of Mercia, overking of the Midlands,” Penda said. His voice was so hard, I swear the air temperature around them had chilled enough that I expected their breath to start coming out in clouds of mist. “When I call the Fyrd forth, there are few on this island who have hope to withstand Mercian might. Take care I never have a reason to assemble them. Your guild will not stand.” Penda turned back towards the inferno.

  Cenric and Ludló stepped up next to the witcher. Ludló cleared his throat then cocked his head towards the fort on the hill above Tamworth. The invitation to leave with haste was apparent.

  Once the priest had ridden away, Penda came to where Bleddyn and I stood.

  “My lady wife came to take counsel with me last night,” Penda said, his eyes on me. “She said she would not allow this guild of Witch Hunters in her entourage and encouraged me to bar them from establishing a presence in any part of our lands.”

  “Your wife is wise, Your Grace,” I said, wondering just how much of my tale the Queen had shared with him.

  “We shall speak later,” he said and give me a thin smile. “I expect you, milady, have a tale to tell that I need to hear. One with more detail than your brother has shared.”

  I held his gaze for a moment, considering. Everything I told Cynewise I had expected that Penda and Lord Chamberlain would know already. The Mercian king seemed to sense there was more to the tale. How much more I was willing to share, even I wasn’t sure yet. How much would it take to keep the Witch Hunters out of Mercia? Could I tell him enough that he’d actually call forth his Fyrd, his full army, and drive the guild off of Britannia? And would the guild stay away after that?

  “Yes, Your Grace,” I said. “We will discuss the guild.”

  Talian pointed down the road as we rode back to Tamworth behind Penda’s retinue. “That looks like Siors.”

  “Can you see?” Bleddyn asked me. “My old eyes don’t work that far out.”

  I had to shade my eyes. The grey gloom overhead hid the sun. Even before it broke out in the late afternoon, my connection to the goddess hummed, so I didn’t need to draw energy from my demon to counteract the effects of the sunlight.

  “Looks like Siors and his men.”

  “Let’s wait here and ride up with them.” Bleddyn turned to Talian. “Ride ahead and let either Ludló or Lazlow know that we’ll have the blades Penda requested. They’ll need to leave word at the gates so we can bring them in.”

  Once Talian had ridden off, Bleddyn and I dismounted and let our horses graze while we waited.

  “How much did you have to tell Penda about my ordeals?” I asked. This was one of the few times we were out of range of Lord Chamberlain’s special ears.

  “I told him they created the undead at the abbey,” Bleddyn said. “I kept the story of what you went through vague. Only Lazlow and Ludló were with us.”

  “And Lord Chamberlain.”

  “He wasn’t— Oh…” Bleddyn grinned. “Of course.”

  “And if it ever comes to a disagreement between Penda and Cynewise, expect Lord Chamberlain’s loyalty to benefit the Queen.”

  “Interesting,” he said and raised an arm to wave at Siors and the other Penllyn men.

  As they rode up, Siors was the first to dismount. After a short bow towards us, his eyes lingered on my hips.

  “Two swords?” he asked. “Has the shifter returned?”

  “Not exactly,” I said.

  Bleddyn moved among the men, grabbing their arms in greeting and giving a few slaps on their shoulders. Smiles abounded all around.

  We gave the men a quick summary of Baldwin’s rise in the undead ranks. Siors whistled, like Bleddyn often did, in surprise.

  “Good thing Lord Emlyn had us switch our blades out for the silver ones,” Siors said. “We’ve each got either a seax or sword we took from the witchers at the abbey. And one for young Talian. Emlyn sent along a sword for you, Lord Penllyn, and a gift you can give to His Grace to win extra favour, if you desire.”

  “Good,” Bleddyn said. “Mair and I will take the blades into the fort to Ludló. I’ll ask at the gates to get you quarters outside of the fort. Ludló will appreciate you men being available outside to coordinate with, should we have another disturbance in the next few nights.”

  “How long are we staying?” Siors asked.

  “That depends on Penda,” Bleddyn said. “He’s of a mind to go hunting for the shifter and his undead guard. These weapons will make him want to go earlier rather than later.”

  “Are we included in that?”

  “I would prefer not,” Bleddyn said. He rubbed his side. “I remember the last time I found a shifter. Once was enough.” He looked towards me. “Penda may ask you, though.”

  “Do you have a preference?” I asked, unsure where he’d want me.

  “You, Gwen and Seren are outside of my authority,” he said and smiled. “Thank you for thinking enough of this old man. That makes me feel special.”

  I leaned into him and gave him a one-armed hug.

  “My brother, you are special. To all of us.”

  31

  Darkness Descends

  Back in my room, I shooed Thea out, claiming a need for sleep. In reality, I needed to maintain the illusion I slept. I had begged off from dinner, citing a need for rest after the ordeals of the last few days. Thea said she’d return later that evening.

  “Anything new?” I sent to Gwen as I lay in bed and slowed my breathing. Any of Lord Chamberlain’s observers would watch me drift away to slumber.

  “We’re getting close to the shadow creature,” Gwen replied. “They are even more difficult to detect using our magical senses than shifters are. But…” She paused for a moment. “Apologies, dearest, we’re climbing today. I know Ruadh loves this, however, I have no use for it.”

  I lay still in the darkened room and waited for her to continue. Once she and Afon scaled the slope, Gwen shared her vision. At least they hadn’t climbed a sheer cliff as Iolo and Ruadh loved to do. The slope below them, however, was anything but gentle. The ledge they were on seemed to be near the summit of a rocky hill. It was about three paces wide from wall to drop-off and ran in a gentle curve around the summit of the hill.

  “Any caves in the area?” I asked, remembering where I had first encountered the dark cloud.

  “Many,” Gwen sent. “None seem deep, however, so we shouldn’t need to venture into any.” She held her hand before her, and a glowing ball of yellow light formed. Afon’s face drifted into view, and she hung the ball of light above his left shoulder. It stayed with him as he drifted back. Another ball of light appeared. This one she hung above her own shoulder. With all of her goddess-given powers, I found it easy to forget that Gwen was human and still had only human sight. She needed the light. As did Afon.

  “How is Afon reacting to your use of The Lady’s magic?”

  “He adapted,” she sent as she followed Afon along the path around the hilltop. “He said someone else showed him some last summer. You have a penchant for showing off, dearest.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I remained quiet. Seren snickered in the background.

  “How are the twins?” I sent.

  “Well,” she replied,
“my brother is coming to his senses and not being as giddy as a young colt in a field of flowers. Enid is doing well and has been up, walking farther each day. There are several women who can help with nursing. I want her to rest in the night to help her recover faster.”

  “Have you been using magic to help her heal?”

  “Some,” Seren replied. “Healing is far easier when I can see the damage. Birthing causes injuries both external and internal, so I’ve had to be careful.”

  “Dear ones,” Gwen sent. “I sense a wrinkle ahead. Please give us time to investigate.”

  Seren and I stayed silent. I knew from experience how distracting banter in the background could be when I was concentrating on a fight. Gwen was far enough away that we weren’t getting what she heard, only her vision. Even that link was wavering.

  Gwen let Afon lead, silver sword in hand, and they ventured into the cave. It was more of a depression, an alcove in the hillside’s wall. Afon peered in, the yellow from the light ball above his shoulder showing an empty crevice. He shook his head and moved on along the path.

  Since I was seeing through Gwen’s eyes, all I could perceive was where she looked. Afon filled her field of vision. The dark-blue cloak Llinos had made for him was draped down his back, but the pack he carried covered most of the design woven into fabric.

  Gwen’s eyes shifted about, scanning the cliff to their left and the slope to their right.

  She gasped as Afon spun and lunged at her.

  His silver blade came right at her, and she twisted out of its path. Seren gasped. Flat against the rock wall, Gwen’s gaze darted to Afon. His lunge had carried him past her.

  “He’s not possessed, is he?” Seren sent. “Attacking Gwen like that…”

  “Afon is too good to miss his target,” I replied. His target was behind Gwen.

  Gwen’s eyes took in the scene, and Seren gasped again. The dark cloud had been back there, hiding. And they had passed by it.