by Holly Taylor
As she made to dismount, Erfin hurried to help her. “Sister! I could scarcely believe it when they said it was you!”
“I rid myself of that fool at last!” Efa crowed. “And a long time it took, too.” She took Erfin’s arm and walked over to stand before Penda. “General Penda, I believe,” she said, her large brown eyes suddenly warm and inviting. “I am very pleased to meet you.”
Penda bowed briefly. “And I to meet you,” he lied. He had expected Efa to be as dishonorable, as calculating, as ridiculous as her brother, and he was right. He had not expected her beauty, or her rampant sexual charm. But he could deal with that easily. He had never been a slave to passion.
“And Ellywen,” Efa went on, turning to the Druid. “How delightful to see you again.”
“I trust your husband is well,” Ellywen said coolly.
“Most unfortunately, Rhoram recovered from the wound that my brother gave him a few years ago,” Efa replied, smiling unpleasantly.
“Where is he?” Erfin asked eagerly. “Where have he and those Cerddorian of his been hiding?”
“Ogaf Greu. And if I never see another cave in my life, it will be too soon.”
“Then we must ride there! Now!” Erfin turned away to shout for the guards, but Penda forestalled him.
“A moment, Erfin. Before we go wasting time and resources, I need to know how Efa managed to leave.”
“You needn’t worry, General Penda,” Efa said sweetly. “Rhoram has no idea of my purpose here. He thinks I left the caves to go to Maen. He would never imagine that I would betray their hiding place.”
“You are a fool,” Ellywen said flatly.
“What did you call me?”
Ellywen turned to Penda. “He let her go. They won’t be there.”
“I tell you,” Efa said hotly, “he suspects nothing.”
“How were you able to get away?” Penda asked.
“Aidan ap Camber helped me.”
“Aidan? Rhoram’s Lieutenant?”
“The same,” Efa said smugly.
“And why, Efa, would he do that?” Ellywen asked coldly.
“He wants me, that’s why. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m afraid it is you who doesn’t understand, Efa. Rhoram wanted to get rid of you. No doubt he was tired of having you watched. By the time we get to Ogaf Greu, they will be gone.”
“That’s not so! Aidan himself left the same night. He went to find Tegyr Talgellawg’s band from Pennardd and enlist their help. They should be here very soon.”
Well, there was nothing for it. Penda knew as well as he knew his own name that Ogaf Greu would be empty by now. But he had to be sure. “I will send a contingent to the caves as soon as possible, of course. But I must tell you that I also believe Rhoram let you go. But no matter,” he went on, overriding Efa’s squawk of protest. “We are truly glad you have returned to us. And your brother will no doubt see to it that you will be quite comfortable here. Erfin, I am sure your sister is weary from her journey.”
“Oh. Oh, yes. Come, Efa, you can have your old apartments back. I have been saving them just for you.” Brother and sister entered the gate of the fortress, leaving Penda and Ellywen alone.
“You will leave tomorrow morning, Ellywen, to seek out Cian. I will be unable to see you off. I must arrest the Master Smith.”
“Siwan? What for?”
Penda shrugged. “I don’t know. But those are my orders. It has something to do with some scheme the Archdruid cooked up.”
“Ah. My master is very clever, indeed.”
“You revere him, don’t you?”
“Of course. He has restored Druids to our rightful place, preeminent over all of Kymru. Once, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, we were the only Y Dawnus in our old land, Lyonesse, now sunk beneath the sea. Now we are once again supreme.”
“As long as you preach the religion of Lytir, abandoning your old gods and goddesses. You should have a care, Ellywen. Your goddess Modron, the Great Mother, must be very displeased with you.”
He smiled. But Ellywen did not. Instead, her pale face became even whiter, and she shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“No,” she said shortly. “It is nothing.”
“Well, good hunting tomorrow.”
“I wish you the same. But there won’t be anyone in Ogaf Greu. He let her go.”
“Yes,” Penda said. “I know.”
THAT NIGHT THE message sent by the Shining Ones reached into Gwydion’s sleep.
At last he had found Y Pair, the Cauldron, one of the lost Treasures of Kymru. He had found Buarth Y Greu, Circle of Blood. He could see it as it lay at the bottom of a dark pit—a pit that lay in the very center of a maze far beneath the earth.
The cave was hung with torches, and their light glittered off the golden bowl carved with a dizzying array of spirals, like tiny mazes that hurt the eye to follow. The lip of the bowl was studded with emeralds that glowed with an inner light. On one side of the bowl, a figure eight was carved, the sign of Annwyn, Lord of Chaos. The figure was studded with shining black onyx.
He reached down for the bowl, but it was too far below. And he could not climb into the pit, for he had no rope. He would never get back out again.
And he cried out then in frustration and anger, for he was so close but could not obtain what he so desperately sought.
Then, suddenly, a black wolf shot out from the darkness and came to stand by him at the edge of the pit. A collar of emeralds encircled her proud neck.
In her mouth the wolf held tiny white stones, which she dropped down into the pit. The stones clanged musically against the golden bowl.
Ask. The wolf’s thought echoed through the deepest chambers of his mind. You are to ask.
At first his pride forbade him to speak, but his need was great. “I beg you, then. I beg you to help me,” he rasped.
Reach, the wolf answered.
And he stretched down his hands, but they were not his. Instead, he saw the slender hands of a young girl stretched down toward the Cauldron, and the Cauldron floated serenely up from the pit into those outstretched hands. And the hands turned into a wolf’s paws, then back into a girl’s hands, flickering unsteadily from one to the other.
And the Cauldron came to him as the girl/wolf hands reached out and took it. The wolf howled in triumph and shot back into the maze. The white stones at the bottom of the Cauldron glowed in the golden bowl that shone in his hands, the girl’s hands, as they held the Cauldron aloft over the black pit beneath the unquiet earth.
Chapter 4
Coed Ddu and Dinmael
Kingdom of Ederynion, Kymru
Bedwen Mis, 499
Llundydd, Lleihau Wythnos—late afternoon
Talhearn ap Coleas, Bard to the fugitive Prince of Ederynion, listened intently for the Wind-Spoken message he expected any moment now.
Two days ago they had learned that Prince Lludd’s mission had been successful, and this morning the Prince’s raiding party had been sighted returning to the forest. When they returned to the main camp, Talhearn would have an earful of news to give them. His long life had taught him to be patient, so he continued to strum his harp, absently playing some of the fine airs he had learned in his youth.
Alun Cilcoed, the Lord of Arystli, was less patient. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and toyed with his dagger. His eyes never left the face of the man who stood before him, wearing the tattered robe of silver gray and sea green.
The Dewin who, as Talhearn well recalled, had once been sleek and well fed was now thin and haggard, and just as clearly nervous as Alun—though for different reasons. Talhearn smiled to himself. It was almost worth it to see the man again just to know how hard a life he had been leading these past two years.
The sun filtered fitfully through the dense forest roof of Coed Ddu, illuminating the clearing here and there with bright patches of sunlight. It was early spring, and the day was mild. The branches shifted in the light breeze, givin
g Talhearn the feeling that the forest itself was restless. A ridiculous fancy, he knew. But he liked the imagery all the same. Perhaps he might make a tune about it.
The warriors who had been left behind gathered around the clearing, talking quietly among themselves. Eiodar, the Gwarda of Is Coed, sister of Angharad, Lludd’s Captain, waited patiently, checking the fletching on her arrows, her red hair dappled by the sun. Llawra, Gwarda of Cynnllaith, whose sister was Susanna, Queen Morrigan’s Bard in Gwynedd, sharpened the blade of her dagger by running it over and over her whetstone, eyeing the Dewin all the while.
Talhearn, by virtue of his age was the only one seated. The log was not particularly comfortable, but it was better than standing.
The earlier message he had received today made him grin, for that one had come from Drwys Iron-Fist, Lord of Dinan. Drwys and his Cerddorian were based in northern Ederynion, in Penbeullt. They had recently raided the docks at Ruthin, one of the favored places for Coranian trade ships. Drwys and his warriors had made off with a small fortune in cloth, foodstuffs, and jewels. Talhearn could hardly wait to tell Prince Lludd. First, of course, there would be the matter of the Dewin to discuss.
At last he heard the message he’d been waiting for.
“They’re here, Alun,” Talhearn said cheerfully. “And you,” he went on, speaking to the Dewin, “I hope you’re ready.”
“Ready to die,” Alun growled.
“Now, now, Alun,” Talhearn chided. “You can’t be sure of that. We have to see what Lludd has to say.”
“Lludd was always a fair boy,” the Dewin said stiffly. “A good lad. I am confident that—”
“I wouldn’t be,” Talhearn broke in. “I believe you overestimate the regard he had for you. Besides, the Bard who Wind-Spoke to me says that Angharad is in a very bad temper. And I am certain she will have a thing or two to say about this.”
The Dewin paled, and Talhearn grinned, his blue eyes alight in his weathered face.
“What’s she so mad about?” Alun asked curiously.
Talhearn shrugged. “The Bard didn’t say. But we’ll find out soon enough.”
A rustling in the undergrowth heralded the group’s arrival. One by one they stepped into the clearing.
Prince Lludd, the leader of the Cerddorian of Ederynion, came first. His brown hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. He wore a plain tunic and trousers of brown leather. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back. He planted the end of his bow on the ground and leaned nonchalantly on it. His brown eyes seemed amused as he met Talhearn’s gaze.
“Everybody duck,” Lludd said cheerfully. “Angharad is—” Lludd broke off as he saw the Dewin. “By the gods, I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t believe what?” Angharad, Lludd’s Captain, asked in a quarrelsome tone as she stepped into the clearing. Her long red hair was tightly braided to her scalp, and her green eyes snapped with irritation. Behind her, his eyes downcast, came Emrys ap Naw, Lludd’s Lieutenant. Emrys’s handsome face was flushed. The other men and women in the party stepped into the clearing, most of them grinning.
“The temple is burned, I understand,” Talhearn said by way of greeting.
“It is,” Angharad snapped. “And we killed three wyrce-jaga besides, in spite of the clumsiness of some people.” She shot a venomous look at Emrys. “And if you ever try to ‘protect’ me again, Lieutenant, I will have you killed. What’s the matter with you?”
Talhearn smiled inwardly. He could have told Angharad just what was the matter with Emrys. Anyone could have. But Angharad never saw what she didn’t want to see, and always refused to hear what she didn’t want to hear.
“I saw a situation I thought you couldn’t handle without help,” Emrys insisted stubbornly.
“Well, you were wrong,” she snapped. “I could have—” Angharad, too, broke off what she had been saying as she spotted the Dewin. “You!” In a flash, Angharad’s dagger was in her hands, cocked and ready to throw.
“Wait!” Talhearn cried, then hit on the only argument that would stay her hand. “That judgment is for Lludd to make!”
Slowly Angharad returned her dagger to its sheath. Her green eyes were hard as emeralds as she surveyed the Dewin. “Well, Llwyd Cilcoed, I hardly dared to think we would ever meet again. If my Queen were still alive, she might be glad to see you. Then again, she might not. She felt distinctly uncharitable toward you at the end.”
Llwyd Cilcoed, former lover to Queen Olwen, bowed his head. “The news of her death saddened me unbearably.”
“Did it?” Lludd’s voice cut through the clearing. “Then it is too bad you were not there to comfort her the day she died. She might have liked that.”
“I––
“You what?” Lludd pressed. “You are sorry? Sorry that you ran away?”
“Yes, my Prince. Oh, yes,” Llwyd whispered.
“Why have you come here?”
“My brother will tell you,” Llwyd said, gesturing to Alun.
Alun Cilcoed said, “I can tell you that he says he has come to join us, that he wishes to help drive the enemy from our land. I cannot tell you if this is true.”
“Then guess,” Angharad said sharply. “Is he a spy?”
“I think not. Nevertheless, you would be fools to trust him. He should be killed,” Alun said quietly, “for deserting Queen Olwen in her last days. He cannot be trusted. He is my brother, to my shame, so I must be the one to kill him.”
“No,” Talhearn said sharply. “That honor would be Lludd’s, should he choose to exercise it.”
“Your sister would have him killed,” Angharad said to Lludd, when the Prince did not immediately pass judgment.
Yes, Talhearn thought. Queen Elen would, indeed. But Elen was a captive of the Coranians, and it was Lludd who would make the judgment.
“Did you Wind-Speak to the Master Bard about this, Talhearn?” Lludd asked.
“I did, my Prince. And he relayed the message to the Ardewin.”
“What did she say?”
“Elstar said that Llwyd Cilcoed has hidden himself in villages for the last few years, avoiding capture by the enemy, and most likely unaware that the Dewin were watching him. She says he is the kind of man who plays his own game and no one else’s. She counsels that, if you let him live, keep a close eye on him.”
“And does she say I should let him live?”
“She says she relinquishes that decision to the Prince of Ederynion.”
“I see,” Lludd said quietly. “Well, then, Llwyd Cilcoed, here is my judgment. In the memory of my mother, who once loved you, you may live.”
“Lludd! How could you—” Angharad began hotly, but subsided as Lludd held up his hand for silence.
“cicson. Then she will be the one to pass final judgment on you,” Lludd continued. “I believe that you wish the enemy gone, for they have made your life uncomfortable, and comfort was always your aim. I believe that you are not a spy. I believe that you do not have a plan to betray us—yet. But you will be watched very closely, all the same, for I do not believe you to be trustworthy. In time you may earn that trust. And there is always need for another Dewin among the Cerddorian.”
“Any oaths you require, Prince Lludd, I will make to you,” Llwyd Cilcoed said eagerly.
“I do not take oaths in my name,” Lludd said fiercely. “My sister is the true ruler of Ederynion. One day we shall free her, and then you may make an oath to her.”
“If she will accept it,” Angharad said.
“As I said, Dewin, you will be watched,” Lludd went on. “The person I will appoint to guard you will be required to watch you closely. This means that you must accompany them wherever they go. You will be able to test your newfound bravery over and over again, for your guard will go to many dangerous places. And the gods help you should you not pull your weight. You will have to, if you wish to come back alive.”
Talhearn began to smile. He knew who the Dewin’s guard would be.
“Angharad,” Lludd said with a gracious gesture, “I give this task to you.”
Slowly, Angharad smiled at Llwyd Cilcoed’s horrified dawning expression.
After the evening meal was over, Talhearn withdrew from the celebrating warriors and made his way to a small clearing nearby. A tiny fire burned in the center of the clearing. Talhearn settled himself on a log by the fire, unslung his harp, and waited for the others. Idly, he began to strum an old tune.
“They sing after thy song, The Kymri in their grief,
On account of their loss.
Long is the cry of sorrow. There is blood upon the spears,
The waves are bearing
Ships upon the sea.”
“That’s appropriate,” Lludd said heavily as he sat down. “Do you think he knew?”
“Taliesin wrote this two hundred years ago. He was no Dreamer, but he knew Bran the Dreamer well. Yes, I think he knew. I think they all did, the Great Ones of High King Lleu.”
“Which was why they hid the Treasures?”
“It is well they are hidden. At least the Coranians do not have them, and so Cadair Idris remains closed to them.”
“Tell me, Talhearn. Do you believe what Gwydion ap Awst wrote to us? Do you believe that the High King will come again?”
Talhearn nodded. “Yes, lad, I do.”
“Sometimes I am not sure I believe it anymore.”
“Believe it,” Angharad said as she came into the clearing. “Two years ago I saw Arderydd when I, too, doubted.”
“The High Eagle came to you?” Lludd asked in awe.
She sat down on the ground, tucking her long legs beneath her. “It could not have been long after he defied the enemy at Cadair Idris.”
“And took Sledda’s eye,” Talhearn reminded them with a grin. “I wish I had seen that.”
“I wish I had done that,” Lludd muttered. “I wish—” he shook his head with a rueful smile. “I wish a lot of things.”
“Elen is all right, lad,” Talhearn said quietly. “You know the Dewin watch over her, and they say this is so.”
“She is a prisoner. And I will not rest until she is freed.”
“The Coranians don’t dare harm her,” Angharad reminded him.