The Pendragon's Blade (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 2)

by Sarah Woodbury

  Surprisingly, Siawn also rode with the company. Rhiann hadn’t asked him why he’d remained with them, but it seemed to her that it was despite his better judgment. He was certainly keeping his distance from Cade, riding in the back of the company with Rhun and Goronwy, rather than mingling in the front with either Cade or Taliesin, who couldn’t have been making Siawn very comfortable either.

  Rhiann rested her head against Dafydd’s back, as she once had against Cade’s. Dafydd patted her hands that were cinched around his waist. “Sir Dafydd will see you safe to Bryn y Castell,” he said.

  Rhiann smiled at that, as no doubt Dafydd intended.

  True to his word, they arrived without incident at Bryn y Castell in the early hours of the morning. “This is some kind of miracle, isn’t it?” Goronwy said as they rode under the gateway. “Completing a journey with Cade without something unexpected happening.”

  “If you don’t count Castle Ddu in the first place,” Dafydd said.

  “All right, I’ll grant you that,” Goronwy said.

  Geraint and his men had arrived already, not surprising given that three days had passed while they were inside Caer Ddu. Thus, Rhun had a full complement of men-at-arms still housed within his walls and more soldiers camped outside its gates. Geraint came out of the keep to greet Cade, pulling on his cloak, having just woken and hastily dressed.

  “My lords!” he said. “All is well?”

  “For now,” Cade said. “We must sit in council before the day is out.”

  Rhiann swung down from behind Dafydd, landing with a thud on the packed earth of the courtyard. She was delighted to be on her feet—and suddenly exhausted, despite her intermittent naps during the journey. She hadn’t slept properly since that day beside the Dulas, if that even counted, and the thought of a pallet or bed made her feel like weeping. Siawn dismounted too and Rhiann took Arddun’s reins, intending to lead her to the stable.

  “Rhiann.” Dafydd stopped her. “Leave that to another.” He took the reins hand and tossed them to a stable boy who caught them, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

  “A bath and sleep for you,” Dafydd said.

  Dafydd guided her up the stairs and into the great hall, towards Bronwen who’d arisen as well and was waiting for her. The two women embraced. Dafydd grinned, but backed away, intending to return to his duties. Bronwen didn’t yet know that Dafydd was now a knight, but Rhiann thought anyone should be able to see that he was a different man from the one he’d been. It shone from every pore.

  “I am so glad to see you alive and in one piece,” Bronwen said. “Geraint told me that you fought with the men!”

  “I did,” Rhiann said. “If I’d known what it was going to be like, I don’t know that I would have gone.”

  Bronwen shot her a skeptical look. “You would have. You were needed.”

  Rhiann nodded, knowing that Bronwen was right. She couldn’t have stayed behind, and she had been needed.

  Bronwen led Rhiann out of the hall and upstairs to an empty room, one that could only have been cleared of women moments before. Rhiann regretted the inconvenience she was causing, but not enough to keep her from sinking into the four-foot tub that three young men wheeled into the room and filled with warm water. When she finished bathing, Bronwen helped her into a cream nightgown, much like those she’d worn all her life in her father’s house, and between the sheets of a feather bed. Rhiann closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

  * * * * *

  Cade established his council in the great hall of Bryn y Castell, with chairs set around the long, high table. Night had fallen yet again. Rhiann had awoken in time for dinner and wore a dress for the first time since she’d left her father’s house. She sat beside Dafydd at one side of the table, with Cade taking his place at the end. This wasn’t the usual custom for the lord with the highest status, who usually placed himself in the exact center, with his advisors on either side. That place Cade had left for Rhun, and Rhiann loved him for it.

  Although diners normally lingered in the hall until well into the night, Cade sent them all away before the usual hour. The women of the court were confined to the solar for the rest of the evening, and the men, it appeared, would drink and dice in the stables, the gatehouse, or at the encampment outside the walls with the foot soldiers. Rhun hadn’t dismissed them to their homes in case he should need them again. Once they dispersed, it would be hard to convince them to return and many of them would be thinking of the spring planting which was imminent.

  Cade himself closed the doors behind the last straggler, and then turned to the companions. They watched him, waiting expectantly for what he had to say.

  “We are all equals here,” he said. “We face a foe unlike any other, and it isn’t right that any one of us chooses the path we will follow without the advice and consent of all the others.”

  His companions didn’t reply, still looking at him, waiting for more. In addition to those who had traveled to Castle Ddu, Geraint had a seat at the table on Rhun’s right, along with Bedwyr, who had returned that day from Caer Dathyl. He sat beside Dafydd on Cade’s left.

  But it was Taliesin, not Cade, who spoke next. “I think first we must hear from Bedwyr.”

  Bedwyr nodded and stood. “As charged by Lord Cadwaladr, Gwyn and I followed the riders to Caer Dathyl. Because we knew where they were going, we felt safe in trailing far behind them. As it turned out, they didn’t deviate from the open road and arrived there in good order. But the fort no longer appears as it once did.”

  Taliesin perked up at that. “Tell me.”

  “Caer Dathyl is built on a massive plateau near the sea,” Bedwyr said. “While it always towered above the surrounding countryside, the walls have changed from wood to black stone.”

  Rhun grunted. “Like Caer Ddu.”

  Bedwyr glanced at him, a questioning expression on his face.

  “I was at Caer Dathyl a little over a week ago,” Dafydd said. “Teregad couldn’t have built it anew in so short a time.”

  “He could have—or rather, Mabon could have,” Taliesin said. “The gods are interfering in our world, and not to our benefit.”

  “Caer Dathyl is an ancient seat of kings,” Geraint said. “Math ap Mathonwy ruled from there in the days before the Romans came. How is it that it has become a place of darkness?”

  “Because Teregad leagues with Mabon,” Rhiann said. “If they are together at Caer Ddu, why not at Caer Dathyl?”

  “Did you enter the castle?” Siawn said.

  “We did,” Bedwyr said. “We rode to the main gate and asked permission to enter. We claimed to be vassals of King Owain of Rhos, nephew to Cadfael of Gwynedd.” Bedwyr gave Rhiann a nod in acknowledgement of her kinship.

  “And what did you find?” Cade said.

  “Half of an answer,” Bedwyr said. “None of the heirs of Iaen were present.”

  “Because they were all imprisoned by Teregad,” Siawn said.

  “I did not know this,” Bedwyr said, “and none of the villagers or members of the garrison knew where you had gone. In their place were ...” He paused, swallowed hard, and then finished, “men.”

  He seemed at a loss for words so Dafydd helped him. “Men that were not quite right? Men that walked and talked but seemed to change shape in front of you?”

  “Yes,” Bedwyr said, relief at not being disbelieved in his voice. “That’s it exactly.”

  Dafydd turned to the rest of the companions. “I believe we know now why Teregad ordered his captain to capture me after I left Caer Dathyl. I’d lived there too long to be allowed to leave. He was afraid I had grown suspicious, either of his father’s death, or of his current activities, and that I would tell someone. Perhaps he even feared I was a spy in his midst.”

  “And had you noticed anything?” Bedwyr said.

  Dafydd shook his head. “I was a fool. Blind. Think of the demon I failed to recognize.” He looked over at Bedwyr again. “Did Teregad’s men not hinder your leaving?”

&
nbsp; “I stayed a few hours, no more,” Bedwyr said. “Gwyn, however, chose to remain behind. He wanted to speak to Teregad when he returned. He felt it was his duty to stay to uncover the truth of what was happening at the fort.”

  “He is my cousin,” Siawn said. “I’ve already lost a father, a brother—.” He choked on the words. He’d folded his hands in front of him and now Rhiann reached over and put her hand on top of his. They were very cold.

  Cade set his chin. “I wish he had not stayed. I would never have allowed it, knowing what I know now.”

  Bedwyr nodded. “I’m sorry, my lord. But when a patrol rode out of the fort in the early afternoon, I left with them. I was not followed.”

  “At this stage, it wouldn’t matter if you had been,” Cade said. “Teregad and Mabon know now that I oppose them. The only question in their minds is what I intend to do—if I will choose to fight them openly or in secret. I pray they have not damaged Gwyn as they did Crawdawg in order to find that out.” He turned to Taliesin. “Do you have any tricks up your sleeve that you’d like to share?”

  Taliesin shook his head. “Not this time,” he said, and then amended. “Not immediately.”

  Cade sighed and sat back. “So now, we must discuss the demons.” An uncomfortable shiver ran around the room. “Myself included.”

  “My lord!” Hywel said, protesting, but Cade raised his hand and forestalled him.

  “When the truth is laid bare for all to see, it is possible to consider it from every angle,” he said. “Demons have been unleashed on our world. We all have seen them.”

  “So we must ask who has released them,” Rhun said. “And from where.”

  “And why,” Rhiann said.

  “There is only one who can release them.” Cade settled more fully into his chair. “And that is Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, Mabon’s father.”

  “Legend has it that at the entrance to his realm sits a black cauldron,” Taliesin said. “Pearls trim its rim, and Arawn binds his prisoners to it with a blue chain that no human can break. It is through the cauldron he summons the dead, and only by the Arawn’s actions that it can be closed.”

  Dafydd raised his hand hesitantly.

  “Go ahead,” Cade said.

  “I thought the goddess Arianrhod, in her guise as the crone, Cerridwen, was the keeper of the cauldron,” Dafydd said. “That she brewed the wisdom of the world in it.”

  Cade and Taliesin exchanged a look across the table, and then Taliesin answered. “If only that were still true. Arianrhod lost the cauldron to Arawn, just as he stole Mabon from her. Mabon and the cauldron have stayed with Arawn ever since.”

  “And what is the wisdom of the world,” Cade said, “but death?”

  Silence descended upon the companions, like a heavy mist on a meadow.

  “Unfortunately,” Goronwy said, “this is all beginning to make a certain kind of sense.”

  “Taliesin,” Rhiann said, “what might Arawn think of all this? Of Mabon’s actions?”

  “I do not have his ear,” Taliesin said. “But I can guess. Certainly, he is responsible for unleashing the demons that now serve his son. It could be, however, that at first he was unaware of Mabon’s desire to rule in the mortal world.”

  “So he might not know that Mabon killed my father at Caer Ddu?” Rhiann said.

  “Perhaps not at the time,” Taliesin said. “As Cadfael now finds himself at Arawn’s table, the lord of the Underworld is surely no longer ignorant of it.”

  “And also because Mabon and Teregad may have returned to Caer Dathyl?” said Siawn.

  “Yes,” Taliesin said, with a sigh. “Yes. That is a real possibility.”

  “Then if there are demons at Caer Dathyl, and the source of the them is the black cauldron,” Dafydd said, “then the black cauldron and Arawn ...” He stopped.

  The companions sat silent. Rhiann was glad that Dafydd hadn’t finished his sentence. She didn’t want anyone to, but Taliesin finished it for him anyway. “Then the black cauldron and Arawn lie beneath Caer Dathyl. That is what I think, yes. That is what I fear.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cade

  The snow continues to fall. At first I think nothing of it but as the sky darkens and the clouds thicken, the snow grows deeper. I pull my cloak more tightly around myself and wrap my arms around my mid-section. I am so cold, so very cold.

  Ahead of me the bulk of the mountain looms. I know that I’ve seen this spot before, but as I search for the trail and the familiar landmarks I know must be there, they elude me completely. At first I hope for a simple ledge to shelter under, but the moment I find one, the wind begins to swirl more strongly, blowing directly towards me, making me even colder than before.

  I stumble on, a vision of my life’s end before my eyes. Then, I hear a hoot and look up. An owl has landed on a snow-covered rock in front of me. I stare at it, dumbstruck. The snow falls, but not on the bird and it carefully preens its feathers under its wing.

  It takes flight and I follow it, for lack of any other hope in the endless white. It leads me to a cave with a bush growing in front of it. Pushing aside the branches, I find it empty, though not long abandoned. There is wood and a fire circle that someone has left for a traveler such as me.

  I take flint from Cadfan’s saddlebags and strike a fire. The warmth rushes over me and I feel renewed, relieved to know that I will live another day. Cadfan’s pack contains food, some bread and dried meat, and I munch contentedly, warming my hands on the flames.

  I sense motion in the back of the cave. I look up. A young woman walks toward me out of the shadows. Her raven hair is caught up in an elaborate style and her dress is woven from the finest wool, blue, trimmed with white at the throat and wrists. She is beautiful. She seems to fill the room with light as she stands in front of me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

  I stand, the half-eaten loaf in my hand, completely taken aback. “Were you caught in the storm too?” I say, knowing even as I ask the question that she couldn’t possibly have been. Not as perfectly turned out as she is.

  Her perfection makes me suspicious. She moves forward again and I take a step back. Before I can put words to my thoughts, she is right in front of me. My breath catches in my throat at her beauty. She reaches up and puts her arms around my neck. Her eyes draw me in and despite myself, I allow her to pull my head down for a kiss ...

  Cade rolled off the bed on which he’d been lying and got to his feet. As one who was already dead, the human need for sleep, which might have finally stopped his internal wheels from spinning, was not available to him. He longed for the relief of it sometimes. No wonder I never rest. Every time I do, my mind reverts to what I’d rather not remember. Cade opened the door to his room and stepped into the darkened hall. A guard stood at the near side of the door. He’d been leaning against the wall, but he straightened when he saw Cade.

  “My lord,” he said.

  “It’s all right, Bran,” Cade said. “You can relax. I’m just going for a walk.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Cade stepped back into the room to pull on his boots and buckle Caledfwlch at his waist. Even in its sheath, the sword hummed against his leg. It calmed Cade rather than sending sparks shooting through him like his father’s sword had done. That weapon now lay in Rhun’s keeping. Cade didn’t know that he’d ever willingly grasp its hilt again.

  Once the council had ended and Cade’s human companions had gone to bed, the other members of the fort had filed back into the great hall, some looking sheepish. Rhun didn’t allow the men to gamble in the hall itself and many of them had taken advantage of the opportunity to lose more than they should.

  Now, after midnight, they slept. A number hunched over their places at the tables, flagons of mead still half-drunk by their hands, their heads laid to the side. Cade remembered doing that.

  Once.

  Dancing among the tables, he’d sung Tali
esin’s own Kanu y Med, his Ode to Mead. The following morning, Cynyr had dressed Cade down—in private, thankfully—for the poor example he’d set. Cynyr had taught many similar lessons over the years. I wish he had never come with me to Anglesey.

  Cade stretched his arms upwards and then swung them around, loosening his shoulders. He sensed a tension in the castle that he didn’t often feel, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen, although they didn’t know what that something might be. Perhaps it was just that his companions hadn’t yet decided in council when they’d be marching on Caer Dathyl, and who would be doing it.

  To Cade’s mind, greater numbers would gain them nothing more than a greater loss of life. Taliesin had agreed, but not Rhun. They also couldn’t say from where those greater numbers would come. Regardless, Cade wanted consensus and sometimes that took time to reach. He hated the thought of leaving Gwyn to languish in Caer Dathyl, even for one more day, but his cousin would have to suffer alone a little longer. Arawn undoubtedly knew what he was doing, and they would not be able to stop him if they weren’t united in their purpose.

  Instead of exiting the hall through the great doors, Cade made his way to the kitchen. Under a cloth on one of the well-scrubbed, long tables lay the makings of the morning’s breakfast. Cade lifted one edge of the cloth, looked at the dough, and then dropped it. The bread was rising well, but it would never taste good to him again. Cade licked the corner of his lips, remembering Arianrhod’s kiss. The memory of it had left him restless and he thought that tonight, perhaps, he wouldn’t try to contain the power within him.

  The kitchen door wasn’t barred and Cade slipped through it. The stars shone out, although the moon was waning. The soft earth muffled his footsteps as he made his way across the courtyard to the stables. Cadfan whickered at his approach. The horse had never rejected him, even though Cade surely smelled different to him now than before he went into that cave. Cade was grateful for that acceptance, and perhaps that is what had prevented him from hurting Cadfan that first night they’d staggered back down the mountain to Bryn y Castell.