The horses began neighing just then, so Tallaght, having regained himself somewhat, got up to see what was bothering them. He walked away shaking the cramps from his arms.
“A cruel death,” observed Peredur, looking around almost fearfully. “It is fortunate we found him when we did. Who would want to do such a thing?”
“When we discover that, we will have pierced the mystery to its core,” I replied, and turned once more to Llenlleawg. I tore another strip from the bottom edge of my siarc, wet it, and applied it to his battered face. This brought a moan from the Irishman’s throat. He wheezed and black phlegm came to his lips. I dabbed it away with the edge of the wet cloth. “There, cough it all up,” I told him. “Get rid of it.”
At the sound of my voice, his eyelids flew open, and he surged up all at once as if he would flee.
“Be easy, Llenlleawg,” I said, placing my hand on his chest so that he would not do himself further injury. “Lie back. All is well. Your enemies are gone.”
He slumped back with a sighing groan, then fell to hacking so hard I thought his ribs would crack. He coughed up the vile black stuff, spitting again and again, only to cough up more.
“Drink a little,” I offered, bringing the waterskin to his mouth. “It will revive you.”
As the water touched his lips, a troubled expression appeared on his face and he made to rise once more. “Rest yourself, brother,” I said. “It is Gwalchavad here. There is nothing to fear.”
Recognition came into his eyes at last; he ceased resisting and lay back, allowing me to give him a drink. He drank greedily, swallowing it down in great draughts as if he had not had any water in days. I tried to pull the waterskin away, but he grabbed my wrist and held it in place and gulped until he choked, spewing blackened water from his nose and mouth.
“Here, now! We did not pull you from the flames to drown you,” I said. “Drink slowly. There is plenty.”
He released my hand and slumped back. His mouth worked and he tried to speak, but it was some time before he could make himself understood. “Gwalchavad,” he said, his voice raw and wispy, “you found…me…”
“We have been following your trail for days. I am sorry we did not arrive sooner—we might have saved you a beating.”
“I am—” he began, then fell to coughing again, “…you found me…”
“Who did this to you?”
Before he could answer, I heard a shout. It was Peredur calling me to come running. Llenlleawg started at the sound. “Peace, brother. It is one of the Cymbrogi,” I explained quickly. “Leave it to me.”
“How many—” he gasped, “…with you?”
“Only two of the younger warriors,” I said, rising. “If I had known we were going to be riding the length and breadth of Llyonesse, I would have brought the entire Dragon Flight. Rest easy; I will return directly.”
I found Peredur beside Tallaght, who was standing with his arms half raised and crossed at the wrists as if to protect himself from a beating. Peredur, his hand on Tallaght’s shoulder, spoke to him while shaking him gently. The horses, meanwhile, had not ceased their neighing—if anything, their distress had only increased.
“What is it?” I snapped, irritated at his failure to accomplish this simplest of chores.
“I cannot wake him,” Peredur said.
I gave the young man a sour look to show him what I thought of his ludicrous explanation, and turned to Tallaght. But behold! Though he stood upright with his eyes open wide, in all other respects he appeared fast asleep, seeming neither to see nor to hear, but remaining unmoved through all of Peredur’s exertions, a rapt expression on his face as if held in thrall to a dream of such pleasant aspect that he would not be roused.
Baffled and alarmed, I reached out and took the young warrior by the arm; the muscle was tensed hard, solid as wood, yet Tallaght appeared tranquil, with no sign of strain in either face or form. Next, I put my face close to his and discerned the faint stirring of his breath on my skin.
“Tallaght!” I cried sharply. “Wake up!”
The young warrior gave not the slightest indication that he had heard. Taking him by the shoulder, I shook him so to rattle his bones. As before, this raised no response. Seeing that his arms were folded, I took hold of his right arm and tried to straighten it, as if to break the spell. I could sooner have broken his arm, for, try as I might, there was no unbending that rigid limb—except by violent force, which would not have helped in the least.
After jostling and shouting some more, I admitted defeat and desisted. “I tell you the truth, Peredur,” I declared, turning once more to the awestricken youth, “I have never seen the like. He has become a living corpse.”
Peredur gaped. “What are we to do with him?”
“I cannot say,” I replied, regarding the stiffened form before us. “But I would not leave him here like this. I suppose we must lay him down somewhere.” Casting a quick glance at the sky, I added, “Llenlleawg is not well enough to travel yet, and we are losing the day. We will make camp in the hall and see what tomorrow brings.”
“Spend the night here?” Peredur wondered with alarm.
“Where else?” I countered angrily. “Here at least we have stout walls at our backs, water, and a fire. It is as good a place as we are likely to find in this accursed land.”
Too shocked to object farther, Peredur closed his mouth and stared at me in dismay.
“Now, then,” I said, “let us carry Tallaght to the hall and make him comfortable until he wakes.”
“What,” asked Peredur, “if he does not wake?”
“See here,” I snapped, “I am not liking this any more than you, but there is nothing else to do.”
Together we eased the young warrior onto the ground and, lifting him between us, began carrying him to the hall. Tallaght, gazing dreamily skyward, remained placidly unaware of his rough handling; we might have been toting a plank for all Tallaght sagged or complained. We moved him to a place beside one of the standing walls and, after clearing away the stones, laid the sleeping warrior on his back. In this position, his resemblance to a corpse grew the stronger. Tearing yet another strip off my siarc, I wet it, folded it, and placed it over Tallaght’s eyes—as much to hide his dead, unblinking stare as to protect his sight.
It was while I was about this chore that I saw the bite—a small, neat circle of reddish marks on the side of his neck where sharp-pointed teeth had broken the skin. If I had not seen it before, I would have said it was the bite of an animal, a small dog or weasel, perhaps. But I had seen it before: on Rhys’ arm. Rhys knew nothing of how he had gotten it, and I was none the wiser for having seen two, but I knew Tallaght did not have it before he went to see to the horses.
“Now what are we to do?” asked Peredur when I finished.
“Now we make camp,” I said. I saw no reason to mention the bite to Peredur; frightening him would serve no purpose. “Water the horses, Peredur, and—” I stopped myself, and corrected my command. “Better still, we will both water the horses, and when that is finished, we will tether them within the hall.”
This we did, and our various chores occupied the fast-fading day. A gray shroud of clouds moved in from the sea to obscure the sun and cast a dusky pall over the ruined stronghold. We took wood and live embers from the remains of the fire around the iron house, and used them to make our campfire. Now and then I paused to tend our stricken brothers, but there was little to be done for either of them. Tallaght had not altered a whit since we placed him on the ground, and Llenlleawg, having drunk a little water and received dressing for his wounds, slept now—coughing from time to time, and stirring fitfully, but never waking.
While we worked, we talked, Peredur and I, for it helped to keep our courage up; I confess, I could feel the fear stealing over me as the daylight abandoned us to the long, dark night. As the shadows bloomed and spread over the ruins, I felt as if we were being stalked. I imagined cold eyes watching us from all the dark places…watching an
d waiting.
We gathered more brush and branches—enough to keep the fire during the night—and, with the dull twilight closing around us, made a simple meal from our provisions. Neither of us ate more than a few mouthfuls as we sat hunched before the fire, gazing at the rubble heaps and fallen timbers around us while the wan flames flickered over the ruins.
When we finished eating, we banked the fire and gathered our cloaks around us to sleep—if sleep were possible. With the night, a heavy stillness descended over the valley and its ancient keep—a cold, unnatural silence, which stifled all sound and made us feel as if each belabored breath we drew might be our last.
Twice my care-wracked drowse was broken by the sound of an owl. The creature’s soft trilling call drifted down from the crumbling tower above. I woke and looked around to see a sickly moon rising over the broken wall. In elder times the call of Wisdom’s Bird was deemed an unchancy thing, portending ill fortune for the wretch who heard it. Some, I ween, believe it still. Now, I am of no such mind to take fright at bird sounds in the night, but this night the call made me think of winter and graves and death stealing light and life from the eyes.
After the third call, Peredur awakened. I saw him start and then leap up. The owl, startled by the sudden movement below, swooped off, flapping its broad wings slowly. Peredur crouched, his hands tensed, staring furiously around him as if he meant to take flight, too.
“Peace, lad,” I murmured softly. “It was only an owl.”
But he seemed not to hear. Taking two or three steps away, he stopped, then said, “No! Wait! Very well, I will go with you!”
So saying, he threw aside his cloak and started away, as if he meant to follow someone who even now led him swiftly from the camp. I thought to call after him, but held my tongue, rose, and went after him. Peredur walked through the caer and out the gate, making straight for the blighted wood. Looking neither right nor left, he ran, leaping like a stag over the crosswise boles, quickly outdistancing myself, who scrambled clumsily in the dark with only the half of a pale moon to light my way.
Avowed to the task, I pressed on, however, following the sound of his reckless flight as the cracking of dry undergrowth gave me direction. I struggled on as best I could, trying to avoid impaling myself on the ragged ends of broken branches. As I slid over a fallen trunk, I felt something soft beneath my feet and reached down to retrieve a siarc—Peredur’s siarc, to be sure. I crashed on a few more paces and found his breecs dangling from an upthrust limb.
Has he gone mad? I wondered, gathering the clothes into a bundle under my arm, and running on.
A dozen paces more and the sound of his flight abruptly ceased. It took me a moment to realize I no longer heard him anywhere ahead of me. I listened, turning my head this way and that to catch any stray sound which might betray the spot where he had gone to ground. Again, I made to call out to him, but something checked my impulse. My senses, already alert, quickened as in the heat of the hunt, and I picked my way forward in stealth, stopping every few paces to listen before moving on.
In this way I proceeded, quietly, warily, my skin tingling with an eerie anticipation. I came to a place in the blighted wood where three huge trees had fallen one across another to form a rough enclosure. I crept nearer and looked over this rude wall, and there in the center of the clearing lay Peredur, sprawled naked on the ground. And on his bare chest a small, hunched black creature was lowering its flat head.
Chapter Thirteen
My heart seized in my chest. I stared at the creature, not daring to draw breath. The thing was squat and repulsive, with two long arms and a large-skulled, flat head. Its short legs were drawn up as it sat on its rump, its back curved sharply as its dark head descended towards Peredur’s face.
At first I feared the thing must have killed him, for the young warrior lay with arms and legs splayed out as he had fallen. But as that ghastly head drew near, Peredur moaned. By that I knew he lived.
Instantly, my hand went to the sword belt at my side. As my fingers closed and began to draw the weapon forth, the creature halted and, quick as a cat, turned its gaze on me. A more grotesque face I never want to see: low-browed and thin-jawed, with a nose like a shriveled leaf, nostrils a-twitch as it sniffed the air; a goatlike mouth with long yellow teeth gaped open in a hiss of warning. Two wide, pale eyes menaced me from beneath the heavy brow as the head sank lower onto the shoulders and the long hands clutched at its prize.
Great King, save your servant! I thought, and the thought was answered by a low guttural growl bubbling up from the hideous creature’s throat. I fell back.
With a scream, the creature leapt from Peredur’s chest, charging straight at me with terrible swiftness. I stumbled back another step, tripped over broken wood, and fell down. The thing was upon me in an instant. The beast’s awful breath smelled of rotted meat and foul decay. I felt its sudden weight upon my chest, driving the breath from my lungs. I made to throw the creature off, but could no longer raise my arms. It was as if all the strength had gone from my limbs, and I could but lie and watch in horror as the odious thing lowered its face towards mine.
Alas, for me! I could not move. I could not breathe.
The repugnant head dropped slowly nearer, and the toothy mouth opened. Striving with all my might, I could not so much as lift my smallest finger. I felt myself gripped tight by a strength greater than my own.
Closer, drooling now, the evil mouth drew nearer, and nearer yet. I saw the small, neat, sharp teeth as the mouth opened and the creature prepared to bite.
My lungs burned. Frozen fast, I could but watch the dread face slowly descend, its baleful eyes blotting out all else, filling my sight, staring into my soul.
Even as I watched—I could do no else!—the face utterly changed and I found myself beholding the face of a woman, a beauty more lovely than any other I had ever known. Lithe-limbed and supple, she reached to gather me in her gentle arms, her long dark hair falling down around her white shoulders. Her breasts were full and round, and wonderful to look upon; her shapely hips were smooth and her long legs folded beneath her. She smiled, and her teeth were fine and white and straight. A goddess could not be more beautiful, I think, and despite my fear, desire stirred within me.
She lowered herself to cover me with her fair body, and I felt myself drawn into her embrace. My lungs swelled to bursting, yet I could not draw breath. The blood beat in my temples and dark mist gathered before my eyes. God help me, I rose to meet her.
Then, even as I felt the sweet gentleness of her soft lips on mine, and felt my breath drawn from my mouth, there came a shriek so loud, so piercing, I feared my head would split. In the same instant, the woman vanished, and the beast appeared once more, its mouth open in a scream of rage.
I sensed a swift movement above me and a dark shape descending. The loathsome thing made to leap away, but the falling shape caught the creature full on its flattened skull with a tremendous crack. The monster threw back its head and howled. Crack! The dark shape sent it sprawling.
Suddenly I could breathe again. Good air came rushing into my mouth and lungs, and I gulped it down like a drowning man who has risen from the killing depths.
Peredur was standing over me, the broken end of a massive branch in his hands. His jaw was set and his eyes were narrowed. Still gasping, I turned my gaze to where he was looking, and saw the black beast writhing on the ground, biting itself in agony.
“Blessed Jesu,” I gasped, “save us.”
At these simple words, the vile thing loosed a shriek yet more terrible than any I had ever heard. There came a sizzling sound and it vanished into a sudden vapor, leaving behind only the echo of its tortured scream, and a stench of bile and vomit.
Peredur turned to me. He tried to speak, but lacked words to equal the event, and so closed his mouth and gazed in wonder at the place where the beast had disappeared. Then he raised the club in his hand and looked at it as if he did not know how it had come to be there. He threw the weapon
aside with an expression of disgust. “I feared it might have killed you,” he said, almost apologetically.
“You did the right thing,” I assured him.
Peredur shivered and glanced down. Only then did he realize that he was naked. He glanced guiltily at me, but I turned away so he would have no need to make the explanation he was struggling to find. I knew well what had been in his mind when he shed both siarc and breecs.
“Your clothes are here,” I told him, gathering up the bundle where I had dropped it. He accepted the clothing with shamefaced gratitude. “I did not see what happened to your boots.”
“I—I mean, it was—” he stammered.
“Save your breath, lad,” I advised gently. “You owe me neither explanation nor confession. We were attacked, and fought it off. There is nothing else to say.”
Peredur closed his mouth and began drawing on his breecs. We then picked our way back to the ruined hall. Our camp, I was relieved to find, remained undisturbed; both Llenlleawg and Tallaght slept soundly.
“Lord, let us leave at once,” said Peredur. “Let us get far away from here before we are attacked again.”
Though it was the dead of night, and darker than the inside of a burial mound, I agreed. “We may not get far in this darkness,” I told him, “but at least we will get away from here.”
We quickly saddled the horses and prepared to depart, then turned to wake the sleepers. Despite our vigorous attempts to raise them, however, the two slept on. Nothing we did made the slightest difference. “Let us put them on the horses anyway,” suggested Peredur in desperation.
“We would have to tie them to the saddle,” I replied, “to keep them from sliding off at every step. No, Peredur, as much as I wish to be gone from here, we could easily come to greater harm stumbling around like blind men in the dark. If we are going to be hauling men like mealbags on horseback, I think we must wait until daylight.” Indicating his feet, I said, “You cannot walk back to Ynys Avallach barefoot.”
Grail: Book Five of the Pendragon Cycle Page 11