by Troy A Hill
“Dunstan…”
“Exactly,” Gwen sent. “This explains the white lock of hair and the cold that both he and Afon claim they’ve felt.”
“Did the cloud touch Afon?”
“He says no,” Gwen sent. “I used the magical sight to examine him. I can find no sign of any contact. But…”
“The fight they had, he was close enough to sense its presence,” I sent. “Be careful. I’d hate to lose either of you. Do you need to come and get me to take it on?”
“Trees are scarce in these valleys,” she sent. “I don’t want to backtrack in order to find a grove. We may catch it tonight. If we can do so before it kills anyone else, I’d prefer that.”
“Be careful,” I sent and let the connection go. I stood. Instead of continuing my circuit around the outer edge of camp, I headed back in. My feet were getting cold and damp. I could sit near the fire and let my boots dry for a while.
I settled into one of the camp chairs left out by the fire. Ludló raised a drinking skin and mug in invitation. I waved it off.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” he asked.
“In the saddle,” I replied and propped my feet on a stone lining the fire. It was small tonight, the main log in it burned about halfway through.
“We’ll wake the next watch when that one breaks in two,” Ludló said, his voice just above a whisper. We lapsed into silence after that. Only the night insects, just waking from their winter slumber, gave any noise beyond the subdued crackles of the small fire.
Eventually the log cracked and tumbled into the coals. Ludló awakened his fresh set of watchmen and set another log on the fire. Dunstan and two other men poured fresh mugs of ale and then headed off into the brush around the camp.
“If you’re staying awake, I’ll let you alert my men when this log burns through. They know who to wake for the last shift.”
I agreed, so he turned towards his small tent.
I sat and stared into the flames for a while. Gwen and Afon had to work their way through the valley and across a small rise strewn with boulders. My only company was the sound of the insects and a pair of yellow-green eyes at the edge of the fire’s light. Black fur and grey whiskers caught the dim yellow glow of the fire.
A cat. I lowered my hand in an invitation for it to come closer. After a short pause, it did. It smelled my hand once, then jumped onto my lap.
“You are a friendly one,” I whispered.
The cat’s only response was to knead his front paws against my belly and purr. I rubbed my fingers along its face. He took the attention, then turned several times on my lap. After smoothing my tunic down, he settled into a furry ball of vibration on my belly.
“We’re getting close, dearest,” Gwen sent.
Her vision tickled my mind, so I closed my eyes and watched through hers.
“I sense the wrinkle ahead. And another flock…”
“Any shepherds?” I asked.
“I fear we’re too late for him,” she sent.
Afon came into view, his own light ball hanging above his left shoulder. He unsheathed his blades and held them before her. The purrs of the cat on my lap drifted off as my fingers stilled. I wanted to concentrate on my link.
Gwen murmured several syllables I didn’t catch. They sounded like an old form of her Cymry language. She traced her hand across the fuller of the silver sword, then used a single finger to draw a small symbol on the blade.
“That looks to be correct,” Seren’s mental voice said.
“What does?” I asked.
“The glyph,” Seren replied. Gwen waved Afon back towards the path. The surrounding light diminished but didn’t go out. Gwen must have dimmed her light balls.
“Gwen and I suspect the darkness is some sort of undead entity,” Seren sent. “She’s added the magical blessing to Afon’s sword. The glyph will activate when he’s in the presence of undead.”
“You’re not making me comfortable with these magical inventions of yours,” I sent. “If you two can do that, so can our enemies. I’d be the one on the receiving end of that spell-sword.”
“I’m sorry, Mair,” Seren sent. “We need to protect our people and stop the cloud before it kills more. Can you imagine what it would do in Caer Penllyn, or the abbey? Or Tamworth?”
“Dear ones, please,” Gwen added. “I need to concentrate. Your chatter isn’t helping.”
Afon paused ahead of her. Gwen extinguished her balls of light. Together, she and Afon looked into a valley. The moon had set, so only starlight filtered into the meadow. Several sheep stood a few hundred paces away, huddled together. It was difficult to see. A slim tendril of black darted into the small flock. One sheep bleated then froze.
Another single long bleat, almost a scream, erupted from it. The sound lasted a full moment before the unfortunate animal fell and stopped moving.
“Deodamnatus!”
Gwen and Afon must have closed the distance between us for me to get sound that clear from our link. It was her voice that swore.
She had one hand on Afon’s shoulder, and her other hand rose to her face. I got the idea that she had popped something in her mouth. Willow bark was my guess. She chewed it whenever her head ached, which only happened when she blasted out that light spell that could kill me.
Gwen mumbled and thrust her open hand out, right as her eyes shut. A flash of red leaked into her link to us. She mewed in pain and opened her eyes. Flashes of red still sparkled across her sight. Another wave of her hand and the balls of light roared back into life above her and Afon. The cloud was less than half the size it had been.
Afon was already dashing ahead, blades out. He leapt over a still body. Not a sheep. His silver blade erupted in the white fire of the goddess’s magic. That confirmed that the cloud was undead…
Gwen kept her eyes on the fight as the red sparkles caused by her pain slowed. Her hand raised another piece of willow bark to her mouth.
Afon faced off against the cloud. He stood between it and the sheep. Any time a finger of darkness reached forth, he slashed it. The cloud’s substance dissipated and dispersed into the night with every slash of his magic-infused blade.
Gwen summoned another ball of light and threw it. Instead of hitting the creature, it flashed into position above the cloud. Another ball, another throw. And another. She was ringing it with the magic of The Lady. A dozen balls later, and it only had one route—towards Afon’s magical silver blade.
Another finger of death shot out. Then two more. Afon sliced them away.
Gwen held out her hand, palm forward, then clenched it hard into a fist. Her glowing orbs around the cloud darted into the creature. Afon stabbed with the sword.
The face in the cloud screamed. It was an old face. Masculine. Wrinkled. No hair at all. None on its face nor on its head. I heard no sound from Gwen’s link. The balls did their damage, and the cloud shrank. Pieces of it sliced off by Afon’s silver sword. The wisps dissipated on the night breeze.
Gwen mumbled in the old language again. Her eyes slammed shut, and other flash of red lit up her vision.
Her eyes stayed shut. I counted the time, and was over a hundred before her eyes fluttered open. Red flashes swam, and the world seemed to be askew. She was lying on her side. Golden light from the single orb above her was the only light. The grass of the meadow and the lifeless body of the shepherd were all I could see.
Afon’s face came into view.
“It’s gone, milady,” Afon said.
I thanked The Lady that Gwen was able keep our link going.
“Here’s the bark you wanted. Here, chew, milady.” His hand drifted into sight.
“Lady Seren, Lady Mair,” Afon’s voice cut through our connection. “Lady Gwen said you’d be able to hear me. I can’t find any trace of the cloud. I believe it’s dead… or whatever. Lady Gwen warned me she’d be like this. I’ll watch her tonight. She said she’d need to sleep. I’ll make a fire to brew her the willow tea and then let her sleep. Don’t w
orry, miladies. We killed it tonight.”
Gwen’s eyes closed. I hoped she’d sleep. She had to. I felt for her. With Seren and I leagues away and no trees close to her for Seren to tree-walk through, I had to rely on Afon to get Gwen through the ordeal.
On my lap, the furball purred again. I stroked his cheek.
I opened my eyes and shifted in the chair, careful not to disturb my new furry friend. Dunstan was across the fire, filling his mug with ale again. His eyes darted towards me.
He paused as though he might say something. He shook his head and turned back into the night for his shift on watch.
36
Unwelcome Guests
Penda was one of the first to rise the next morning. I felt him stir and approach. Not like I would have sensed Afon or Bleddyn. This was almost as if Emlyn or Gwen had come close. I sensed him before he came into view.
“You found a friend,” he said and settled into a camp chair across from me.
“He found me last night,” I said, running my hand down the sleeping feline form. “Fortunately your men checked on the fire and I didn’t have to rise and disturb him.”
The cat yawned and stretched, then jumped down. He walked to Penda and sniffed at the Mercian king’s hand. One look back at me, and he strode off into the brush.
“Not sure if he likes me or not,” Penda said. He let a smile slip through his beard. “As long as they keep the rodents out of our grain, they’re welcome.” He raised a drinking skin and squirted a stream of ale into his mouth. I waved it off when he motioned to toss it my way.
“Anything happen last night?” he asked.
That was an interesting question. I didn’t want to tell him Gwen was sleeping due to killing the shadow that had harmed Dunstan. If I told him, I’d need to explain how I knew. That was more, much more than I wanted to share with him or Lord Chamberlain. I was sure that even if I asked Penda to not share, there were enough other ears around that word of the conversation would get back to the spymaster.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Quiet as a mouse all night.”
Penda’s men were disciplined. They all broke their fast with dried meat and ale. They struck camp, saddled horses, and stowed packs with efficiency. Within an hour of Penda rising, we were on the trail again.
The hounds repeated their performance from the day before, becoming agitated whenever they encountered Baldwin’s trail.
I spent the morning riding next to the Mercian king and tried to appear drowsy. I didn’t need to try hard to slip back into my old habits of being inactive during the day.
“We’re approaching the old Roman road, Your Grace,” Ludló’s voice interrupted my contemplation.
“Let’s see if that corpse stays on the path or takes a different way,” Penda replied.
I straightened and opened my eyes. The hunt master sent the hounds around the area several times in ever widening loops. Each time, they showed the trail led into the woods, along the cart path.
“Milord,” Ludló said and waved towards the south-west.
I shaded my eyes to look that way, then groaned. As the party of men grew near, even Penda shifted in his saddle. He reached over and patted my shoulder.
“We’ll make them move along,” he said, his voice quiet.
“Your Grace,” Father Adda called. Behind him, five men rode, each with leather armour and helms. All wore the symbol of the Witch Hunters on their chests.
“Why have you come here?” Penda asked. “You should be with my son.”
“Ah, Your Grace,” Adda said with a slight recoil at Penda’s gruff tone. “I learned that some of the men I requested for King Paeda’s conversion ceremony were riding in from Wessex. After your party left yesterday, I rode off to meet them.”
“And you go now to Middle Anglia to aid my son…” Penda made it more a statement than a question.
“We do, Your Grace,” Adda said. “And if we locate your demon-possessed guard, we’ll send word back at once.” The priest’s eyes shifted around the men and the dogs searching the brush. “No luck so far?”
Several of the hounds chose that moment to sound their cries of rebellion as they were led back across Baldwin’s trail. They did not like the smell of whatever possessed his corpse.
“We’ve been on the trail all day,” Penda said. “We’ll have this fellow tracked down and taken care of before Paeda’s wedding day.”
“If you need our assistance, please send a rider,” the priest said and let a sly smile pull up a corner of his mouth. “All of my men carry silver weapons, which is sure to harm that demon. Our guild is—”
“Your guild is on the way to my son’s wedding,” Penda growled. “Don’t lose your path, priest.” Penda gave a nod and kicked his horse across the road.
I glanced back once. Father Adda kept his sly grin as he watched Ludló and I ride across the Roman road and into the brush after the king.
“You don’t seem to like the guilders,” Ludló said to me as we let our horses follow Penda. By now the king was up with the hunt master, discussing the trail and tactics with him. “The incident at the abbey was surely a rogue act by those wizards.”
“I had an encounter or two with their men before the Battle at the Abbey.”
“How many dead did you leave behind?” Ludló grinned.
I glared at him. “Two. They caught me unawares. Brigands attacked a merchant caravan I had hired to transport me to Wessex. The merchants fled and left me behind.” I took an unnecessary breath. I needed to calm myself at the memory. “The guilders thought a woman alone was an easy mark. Someone they could call a witch and make an example of. I had a rough two days as their captive before their apprentice slipped me a knife.”
“They didn’t…” He cocked an eyebrow and let the question fade. That was personal, and he realised it. I hadn’t seen any women warriors in his guard, so typical male candour was his norm.
“They talked about doing so,” I said. “I’d be dead if I’d spent another day in their custody.”
“I understand now why you go stiff every time that priest is around,” he said.
“Is my body language that apparent?” I hoped not. No need to signal more than I needed to, especially around Adda.
“I only noticed because I watch His Grace and the Queen,” Ludló said. “When they are relaxed, it’s normal duty. When they get uncomfortable, I bring in more men. The guards watch me, and I watch Penda and Cynewise.”
“And I’ve been close to both when the guilder is around,” I said.
We let the conversation drift off after that. Ludló rotated out riders at point several times over the next hour as the hounds led us on.
It was late afternoon when Ludló and Penda debated against making camp or continuing to ride on after the creature.
“We should be gaining ground on it,” Penda mused. “We’ve let the horses trot most of the time.”
“You saw how fast that thing ran, Your Grace,” Ludló added. “We need a day or two more, if we are even gaining ground.”
“It’s staying on the track so far,” Penda added. “Travelling at night after a short rest can get us closer. Does that thing even rest? Or is it running all day and night?”
“Lord Ludló, Your Grace,” an excited call sounded ahead. The guard at point. “You need to see this.”
The two men kicked their horses and headed around the bend. I followed close behind.
Several dogs with humans tugging their leads pulled back and refused to enter the camp. Several whimpered, and one made cries of distress.
“Circle around if they’re scared,” Penda called. “Guards, make a perimeter. Everyone sharp. Dogs and handlers, search the brush. Find where the creature moved on.”
Before us, four merchants and their horses all lay as though sleeping, their fire burned to grey ashes. Several wagons loaded with barrels and baskets stood waiting to roll. It looked as though they had stopped for the evening meal, then each fell where they stood. No bedrolls o
ut. A pot hung above the fire.
Penda slid from the saddle and used his foot to roll a body onto its back. Its skin was stark white. A ragged wound in its chest looked like it came from a sword thrust. Nothing marred the wound nor stained the cloth of the man’s tunic.
“No blood,” Ludló breathed.
I activated my link to Gwen and Seren. Gwen seemed groggy as though she had just awakened. I shared my vision with them.
“Can you move closer and examine a corpse?” Seren asked.
I did so. His neck was clean. No bite wounds.
“That was my thought too, dearest,” Gwen sent. She had shaken her lethargy. The sight of corpses had a sobering effect. “Look at the wound in his chest, please.”
Again, the pale white of the skin stood out in the evening light. I pulled the tunic aside from the slice. No blood. Not even a drop. But the flesh had a clean cut as though pierced by a sword.
Penda approached. Even now, I could feel his presence as he moved closer. What had Gwen said about the being the champion of the goddess? I am what is, he is what would have been? Were we linked somehow?
“Interesting thought, dearest,” Gwen sent. “We’ll examine it later. We need to find that creature. I’m not sure what it is, but I have the sense it’s an ancient evil. One that only druids of old would know of. I’ve heard whispers of such creatures from the past, but the only ancient druid I know of has locked himself away from this world.”
“Like nothing I’ve seen,” Penda said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What in all the hells could do this?”
“Gwen says it’s an old evil,” I said. Then I cursed silently.
“Lady Gwen is here?” Penda asked. He stared at me. “You are keeping secrets, milady. What did Lady Gwen say?”
“Go ahead, dearest,” Gwen sent. “Tell him. Just ask that he keep it to himself. Outside of our friends in Penllyn, Penda is the closest to a trusted ally I can imagine.”
“She says it reminds her of something that only ancient druids would have knowledge of,” I said, and repeated Gwen’s cautions. Penda nodded his acceptance. No one was close enough to hear. Ludló and a few of the other guards, with swords out, poked through the underbrush. Searching.