by Dave Freer
And now her daughter did, although she seemed unaware of it.
So Queen Gwenhwyfach took the dragon’s advice and sent out her dragons, and word to any of her minions that had not already been told: stop the invaders, at any cost.
The Shadow Hall settled on a high hill in her native South while she was doing these things.
When she came to notice it, she realized that the muryan slaves were gone, and Shadow Hall would not be moving.
The Land did not like slaves, and its magic was far more powerful than hers.
So she sat in her high room and looked via the basin at Dun Tagoll.
Anghared would turn her attention there, eventually.
And that, at least, would be sweet.
Maybe she could get used to being old, and contemplating grandchildren and not plotting revenge. Then she thought of the creatures of smokeless flame and thought: maybe not.
CHAPTER 27
Dun Tagoll basked in the spring. The prince and his troop rode out on local patrols, but there had been none of the deluge of foes they’d expected.
No messengers came from the other Duns. Not from the north, the center, the prince’s own lands in the east, and of course not from the south.
Eventually, Prince Medraut sent out a strong party to Dun Telas. To get a message back that the men of Telas had marched south with the Defender. They were full of stories about how the Lady Anghared had dealt with the men of Ys, the Vanar, and soldiers from Erith. Even driven off the dragons of Shadow Hall.
The prince sent a message for the royal mage.
Aberinn appeared in a good mood. “I have discovered what the problem in my spells is. It appears that there is now considerably more magic in Lyonesse, which has meant all our workings were miscalibrated. That’s why the Changer overshot. That’s why we had sufficient power so much sooner. Anyway, I have run a number of calibration spells. I can adjust the Changer so that it operates as normal.”
“Why bother?” asked Prince Medraut sourly.
“Have your wits gone begging, Medraut? To allow us access to fresh magical energy. To allow us to escape our enemies.” said the elderly mage.
Medraut shrugged, insolently. “You’ve just said there is considerably more magical energy in Lyonesse. And that young woman, it appears, is not dead. She is this Defender that you prophesied.”
“Don’t be stupider than you have to be, Prince Medraut.”
“I’ve just had my messengers return from Dun Telas. She’s defeated Ys, Vanar, Erith and your Shadow Hall. And she will want my head. Yours, too, I would think.”
The mage rolled his eyes and said in a voice of severely tried patience. “She is not this legendary Defender, whoever she is. If she has defeated Shadow Hall, my crows can fly. I will test that, but I doubt it. Shadow Hall merely waits. The enchantress has that kind of patience, that long view. The Vanar were destroyed by a storm. We saw wreckage. As for the rest, Ys under Dahut is dissolute…”
“How do you know that she’s not this Defender? It was prophesied…”
Aberinn drew himself up. Shook his head. “Because I made it up, Medraut. I made it up so it would be easy enough for me to arrange if my son returns. I did it so it would be easy to get rid of the likes of you.”
And he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Medraut without a word to say. He was still standing staring at the door when Lady Cardun came bustling in. “Those crows fly again from Aberinn’s tower. What’s this story we’re getting via the men-at-arms, Prince?”
“How is your scrubbing, Cardun?” he asked. “Kitchen floors, I would say, would be the best you can hope for.”
She looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “What are you talking about, Prince Medraut?”
“The news from Dun Telas is that that girl Anghared has been hailed as the Defender. She’s defeated our worst foes, even Shadow Hall. Aberinn says it is impossible, but that he’d test it with his gilded crows. You say they fly out. So, therefore, that at least is true.”
The chatelaine’s face went white under the face paint. “It can’t be.”
“That’s what Aberinn said. He said the entire prophecy was a fraud set up so that he could claim the throne for his son,” said Prince Medraut.
“But…he doesn’t even like women. He has no son…Let me go and speak to Vivien. There was gossip. But it can’t be true.”
“You’ll be scrubbing and I’ll be at the whipping posts before I lose my head,” said Prince Medraut, glumly. But his aunt had not stayed. She’d gone in search of Vivien.
***
Lady Vivien was out on the battlements, looking at the distant golden flashes. “It seems you were wrong, and I should have been braver. I was afraid of Aberinn and afraid for my boys.”
“Hmph. What do you mean, Vivien?” demand Lady Cardun, unable to leave go of her hectoring tone, even now.
Vivien shrugged. “Just what I say. She was the Defender. And I was too weak to go with her when she asked me for help, to leave. I told her to fit in here. She went, with just a maid to support her. Now, Lyonesse itself is changing, and we are not part of it.”
“Not while Prince Medraut holds Dun Tagoll, it is not. Is it true that Aberinn has a son?”
“Not that I know of. He uses women sometimes, so he could have, I suppose.” The younger woman turned. “I see that some of the golden crows are coming back already. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
And she walked away.
***
Vivien had taken herself to the wizard’s tower, a little later, unable to not know. It was possible to do this in a way which did not make it easy to overlook, as she knew all too well.
The inner door was open. It was never open. She tiptoed in. She could hear them now—Aberinn, Medraut, Cardun. Voices raised. Aberinn: “The neyfs are even plowing again.”
“Where is she?” asked Medraut.
“South of Dun Telas, dealing with a handful of knights under the banners of Brocéliande. The crows show that they’ve made a peace with them and the knights are being taken back to the Way, under escort.”
“Is it definitely this Anghared?” asked Cardun.
The sarcasm in Aberinn’s voice was thick. “It was a woman who looks as like her as two peas in a pod, mounted on a warhorse, with that silver axe Vivien told me of. She is accompanied by that maid of hers or someone who looks exactly like her, but other than that, no, I am not certain.”
“Can we…you, kill her?” Medraut asked. “With your art, perhaps.”
“You tried and failed. I used my art to shoot at her with the model-bow. And somehow…that failed. I made two other attempts. She is defended in some way. She is now accompanied by what I take to be her master. He must be a mage of considerable power.”
“So what are we going to do?” asked Cardun.
“We hold Dun Tagoll. If she could act against it, she would have while she was here,” said Medraut.
“It is defended and provisioned,” said Aberinn. “And we control the Changer.”
“What good will that do?” asked the chatelaine.
Vivien tiptoed away, not waiting, going back to the women’s quarters. For a long time she stood in the passage outside the bower. She went in. It was empty. She took a deep breath and looked among the embroidery frames. Found the one she was looking for. Marveled at the stitches. And got up and did what no castle lady would do: she went down to the barracks. It was in a ferment, a cheerful happy hubbub. It also hushed the moment she walked in. She had two sons here. Likely lads, good squires, walking in a famous father’s footsteps. It could have been worse, because they assumed she’d come to see them.
They were desperately embarrassed to see her there. “Mother, you shouldn’t be here,” said the older, Cadoc. Melehan just stared at his mother, as if he could make her go away by eyes alone.
“I need to speak to you,” she said.
“Come, we’ll escort you back to the bower,” said Cadoc, taking her elbow.
She
found her courage. “No. What I need to say to you may as well be heard by everyone. We need to leave Dun Tagoll. The mage’s gilded crows bring word that our foes are banished. The Defender has won, Lyonesse is at peace. Prince Medraut and Mage Aberinn have decided to keep the gate of Dun Tagoll closed on the Defender. To keep things as they are. I should have taken you and gone with her the first time, when she wanted to leave. I will not make that mistake again. We leave now.”
There was a silence.
Then one of the grizzled veterans spoke. “How do you know this, Lady Vivien?”
“I have just heard it with my own ears. Do you doubt me? The gilded crows brought the mage news and sight of the land. You saw them fly and you’ve seen some return. Our foes are gone. Out there the peasants plow again. They’ve come out of the woods. Left the shelter of Telas and the other forts. They know it’s over. Do you think I would risk my sons’ lives for nothing? It’s over. The Defender has come. There will be a new king. But those who rule here do not wish it to be over.”
“It’s true enough,” said one of the men-at-arms who had ridden to Dun Telas. “I saw some of the neyfs on the ride. No beast so they’d yoked two of them to the plow.”
He stood up. “I’m not one to stand against my sworn liege. But I’ll not hold Dun Tagoll against her. She’s a good lass, that one. I saw her at the queen’s window, and I saw her put that axe in front of her face and face down the Fomoire. I’m for leaving.”
“Aye,” said the veteran. “Me too.” And then another…A little later they spilled out of the barracks. Some went to the kitchens, to their peculiars, and others to the stables to get horses, Vivien among them. The grooms had liked Anghared, it seemed. They provided horses, and were mounting themselves. The men-at-arms had gone to the gate guard, and the gate was opened.
A few minutes later the entire courtyard was full. The gate was wide and people had already begun to walk and ride out.
The noise brought Prince Medraut and the Mage Aberinn and Lady Cardun out of the wizard’s tower.
“What is happening here?” demanded Prince Medraut.
On the causeway, Vivien could hear his voice.
“Keep riding,” she said to her sons. The causeway was no place to gallop, or she would have told them to do that.
“We’re going to join the Defender, Prince Medraut,” shouted someone.
“Close those gates! Get within, all of you! I command here! You will follow my orders.”
“Ach. We’ll take orders from her instead,” shouted someone else. “You cannot stop us, Medraut.”
“Go then. Be masterless, landless men. When the next invasions come, Dun Tagoll will be closed to those who leave. There will be no fortress whose walls cannot be breached to shelter you. There will be no magical multiplication of scant rations. You will starve or be killed.”
“I can stop you,” said Aberinn’s cold voice, carrying above the noise.
Vivien knew how dangerous the narrow causeway was. “Run,” she yelled.
They did, the press of people all scrambling for the headland.
And behind them the gates of Dun Tagoll swung closed, crushing the last few who tried to force their way out of the gates.
But they’d won free to the headland. “We will gallop now,” said Vivien.
Then felt the blow and then, as she fell from the horse, the pain.
Someone yelled: “Run. They’re firing the scorpios at us.”
The next Vivien knew, she was surfacing as someone bathed her face. She looked up into the tear-filled face of her younger son. “Don’t die, Mother, please don’t die.”
She was not sure she would be able to do that for him. “In the…little bag…on the saddle. Tapestry. With black dragon. Give it to her. Ask kindness to you…my sake. Cormac…” she whispered. Maybe she would be with him now.
***
“It would seem,” said Finn, “that the last of Lyonesse’s foes has retreated in some disarray. Now all that remains is Dun Tagoll itself.”
“Do we have to do anything about it?” asked Meb. “I’ve seen Aberinn’s crows. He knows what has happened.”
“I think it is necessary to deal with this Changer device. The levels of magical energy it has caused to flow into Lyonesse…are not good. Some of it must run back to where it came from, Scrap. And then I think things can return to normal here.”
Meb sighed. “I don’t really want to go back. But let us go down there and see what we can do.”
“Let’s not use more magic than you have to, Scrap. It’s quite unstable as it is. And every time you summons something…it has knock-ons. They use magic too freely here anyway.”
“My magic is quite different to theirs, though.”
“Part of it is. The part with fertility and life, yes. The rest is very human magic. They just draw and chant to achieve their visualization of the symbols. They complete things they have a little of, physically. You do the same, but the entire image is within you, and that part of the the thing—it’s essence, as it were—is also within you. But it should be used with caution, because it draws from within you, and of course, makes work for me.”
“Lady Anghared,” said a respectful man-at-arms. “There are people here from Dun Tagoll. Shall I bring them?”
She smiled at him. Nodded. All she really had to give was a smile, but they seemed happy with that. She felt faintly guilty. By virtue of fighting the invaders, she had somehow ended up largely running the country and had absolutely no idea how to do so. Fortunately, she had Finn, and, oddly, Neve, who was proving very good at telling others what to do. “Maybe it has all resolved itself,” she said hopefully.
A few minutes later she realized it hadn’t. And that it would have to be dealt with, right now.
They were Vivien’s sons. She recognized them although they were white-faced and plainly had been crying. The older one bowed and handed her a piece of tapestry. It was her own work. A black dragon…and it had blood on it. “My mother asked that we give this to you. Just before she died,” said the older boy, his voice tight. “It has her blood on it. They shot her in the back from the walls as we fled.” He started crying. Tried to control himself. “She brought most…of Dun Tagoll to your banner, Defender. She asked a kindness…for my brother and me, for her sake.”
Meb found it hard to talk past the lump in her throat. She nodded. “What I can do, I will. She was good to me.”
“I just ask that I…”
“We!” interrupted the younger boy.
“We can have a part in bringing down Dun Tagoll, in the downfall of Medraut and Aberinn.”
“We go to achieve that end,” said Meb. “And…I know your mother worried about you being provided for. Having a place was important to her. I will see that you have one. I promise.”
So by afternoon the greater part of Meb’s raggle-taggle army was heading west. And Meb had put a stop to the flying of the gilded crows again.
“There is no point in going to the headland. Dun Tagoll will stand any siege and its walls repair themselves,” said Meb. “They have scorpios and catapults, and hot pitch. But there is a little hidden door at the back of the zawn to the south. The knockers said that leads to the tide engines and up to the wizard’s tower. If Neve’s count of those who left is right, then there can’t be more than seventy people still inside Dun Tagoll, and very few of those are soldiers. Courtiers, a few servants. Medraut and his inner circle of haerthmen.”
“I’ll go and scout it then,” said Finn. “Before you, or Díleas, argue or try and come with me, I can swim across, transformed into a seal at high tide. The knockers will tell us if there are any guards outside the cave, and I can swim right in and have a look at the spellcraft. I promise I will go no further. And you can think about crossing the gully in the meanwhile. I’d suggest making a pontoon-way of small boats and planks. I’ll interfere with the weather a little. A bit of energy adjustment and we’ll have a sea mist tonight.”
***
B
y dark Fionn was back, pleased with himself. “It was a bolt-hole, I think. A neat piece of spellwork, but rubbed out now. I had words with the knockers to stop them going in before us, in case there are other alarms and defenses. How is the pontoon-bridge?”
“We’ve had some of the Lyonesse nobility exercise their magic,” said Meb. “We took the coracle apart, gave a fragment to each of them and had them apply their magic. We’ve got planks to put across the top. Now all we need is low tide.”
“That comes, as does the mist,” said Fionn.
And it did. At dusk a column of men came down. A few paddled across in a coracle with the ropes and soon the floating bridge was in place. There were a good two thousand men there.
“They’ll have to be deaf up there if they don’t realize something is going on,” said Fionn, grumpily.
The little door proved no match for Fionn. But the narrow passage beyond was going to be something of an impediment to the invaders. Getting thousands up was going to take time. Fionn went ahead. He knew better than to tell Meb—or Díleas—to stay back more than a few paces. The narrow passage brought them out into huge caverns. The knockers provided light, showing the great iron chains and sluices and a waterwheel that drove the engines far above.
The stairwell led upwards and upwards. Fionn looked and listened intently and, when he got to a certain point, called a knocker miner out from the crowd following. “There’s a hollow just behind this wall.”
“That’ll be the wine cellar. We used to visit it. There are a few of our passages into it,” said the chief Jack, with a toothy smile.
“Send a few of your lads in there to see if it is empty. Not of wine. Of people. And if it is, we’ll have this wall down and send some men that way.”
About a minute later the knocker was back. “Just the chief steward. Drunk. He’s locked himself in. By what he’s muttering, the murdering bastards upstairs will have no more wine even if he can’t get out. The wine is dreadful. My lads will have that little wall down in no time at all. And quietly too.”