by Holly Taylor
He heard the cell door open, but he did not stop his song. He stopped only when he felt the knife enter his heart. He opened his eyes as he fell to his knees. Sledda stood there, panting, Anieron’s blood splashed over his black robe. The wind quieted. The harp stopped playing.
Anieron was dying. But he had one last thing to say to everyone in Kymru before his spirit left this world. Sledda of Corania, I say this to you, for it is true. For the murder you do to me today, you will die at the hands of the High King himself.
Good-bye, my brother, Anieron whispered as the darkness took him. Good-bye.
“GOOD-BYE, MY brother,” Dudod whispered, as he knelt by the fire in Coed Coch. “Oh, good-bye.”
Arthur sat unmoving while all those around him wept. Then, slowly, he rose. They quieted as he stood. Even Dudod lifted his head, watching.
“I, Arthur ap Uthyr var Ygraine, vow today that Anieron’s last words will be true. One day I will take vengeance on Sledda for the murder of the Master Bard. I, who will be High King of Kymru, swear this. You do not need to find another. It shall be me.”
Chapter 19
Arberth and Haford Bryn
Kingdom of Prydyn, Kymru
Cerdinen Mis, 499
Suldydd, Lleihau Wythnos—late afternoon
Aidan ap Camber, Lieutenant to King Rhoram, knew that he was going to die. He didn’t mind dying so much—it happened to everyone, sooner or later. But he did mind the fact that his death was sure to be painfully slow. And, no doubt, extremely messy.
Aidan tensed as the Coranian soldiers moved in closer. He put a comforting hand on Cadell’s shoulder as the Dewin swallowed hard. It was dark in the back of the smithy, and he could barely make out Cadell’s face, but he was quite sure his friend was just as on edge as he was. The punishment set aside for Cadell would be even worse than what Aidan would endure. Cadell would be collared with an enaid-dal and sent to the isle of Afalon in Gwytheryn. And, once there, there would be no escape. The collar would slowly kill him, if the Coranian guards at the isle didn’t kill him first as they played their sick games on the prisoners.
For the hundredth time that afternoon, Aidan turned over possible escape plans in his mind. And, for the hundredth time, he concluded that it was not possible. Their only hope, since they had no weapons, was to break cover from the smithy and be killed instantly. Cadell knew this as well as Aidan did.
Ah, well, Aidan thought, it had been a good life. Even after the Coranians had invaded, life had been good. He had served King Rhoram faithfully and well and had no regrets on that score. He would very much regret having to leave Lluched, the Gwarda of Crueddyn and Cadell’s sister. He thought it was very possible that he was in love with that fierce Cerddorian. And he was sorry that he would not be here to see the High King return and take back Kymru from the invaders. That was a fight he wished he could be a part of.
The irony was that he and Cadell had been all set to leave enemy-occupied Arberth today. Their mission had been accomplished, and they had been heading home, after being here for five days. Cadell’s mission had been to set up portions of the network of Y Dawnus, broken when Anieron and the rest of those in Allt Llwyd had been taken. Now spies were again set in the fortress and in the city. Elidyr and Elstar, the Master Bard and the Ardewin, would be pleased. The last link was now reforged, and the network in western Prydyn was once again in place.
If only Aidan had not been recognized, they would have left the city by now. How Queen Efa could recognize him from a quarter of a league away when he had his back to her was something he could not fathom. Never, he thought wryly, underestimate the capacity for vengeance of a woman scorned.
For it had been Aidan who, at King Rhoram’s orders, had tricked Efa into leaving the caves of Ogaf Greu, enabling Rhoram and his people to disappear to a new location without the risk of being betrayed. Aidan had tricked her into abandoning the King by making her believe he was in love with her and he would follow her to Arberth to join the Coranian cause. The part where he had to pretend to be in love with her had not been as pleasant as he had anticipated. Efa, though she was beautiful and sensual, had made Aidan’s skin crawl. The fact that she was selfish, faithless, and rotten had been harder to ignore then he had first thought.
When Efa had cried out his name in the marketplace, Aidan had not even turned around. He knew the voice, and he knew what it meant. He had grabbed Cadell’s arm, and they had melted into the crowd. They had almost made the east gate when the guards shouted for them to stop. So they had run through the streets of Arberth, not daring to approach the spies they had just installed. The work they had completed was far too important to risk.
They had done their best to throw off pursuit by creating havoc in the marketplace as they ran. The people of Arberth had helped. Goods had somehow gone flying into the paths of the Coranians, dogs had yipped at the guards’ heels, and stalls had unaccountably collapsed on the soldiers. The help of the people had been just enough to enable them to reach the smithy, just outside the marketplace. There the Smith had urged them in, hustled them into the back, then returned to the open front to continue forging horseshoes.
The guards were now searching the marketplace from stall to stall. Every moment brought them closer to the smithy. The city gates were shut tight. Even if they could somehow sneak away from the smithy, they had nowhere to go.
“They’ve reached the last row,” the Smith said from the front, his voice low. “They’ll be here next.”
The Smith of Arberth was a burly, taciturn man, one of the Master Smith’s assistants. The Master Smith and her family had disappeared out of Arberth months ago, taken by the Coranians.
Aidan looked at Cadell. “Shall we make it quick, my friend?” he whispered.
Cadell nodded, then shuddered. “Better than the collar. Anything would be better than that.”
The two men rose. The plan was simple. Run out of the smithy and right into the spears of the soldiers.
But before they could even begin, the sound of horses’ hooves stopped them. Someone, they could not see whom, had halted in front of the smithy.
“Smith, I demand that you look at this horse’s shoe. I tell you, there is something wrong with it.”
Aidan froze. He knew that voice. It was Ellywen, King Rhoram’s former Druid. Cold, callous, and controlled, Ellywen had been a special protégé of the Archdruid and had been hand in glove with all his schemes for years.
“I assure you,” the Smith growled, “there is nothing wrong with that shoe. I put it on just two days ago. It is your imagination.”
“My imagination? Perhaps you forget who I am. I will have you dancing in the air with a sword at your throat before you can even blink.”
That was true, Aidan thought. Druids were Shape-Movers, and such a thing was very well within her power. The Smith had better not be foolish. But if he were, Aidan and Cadell would have to help him.
“Very well,” the Smith said, still surly. “I will look at it. But you are not going to be able to go anywhere.”
“Nonsense. I wish to ride out to the vineyards today.”
“The gates are closed. They won’t let you through.”
“I know the gates are closed. And they will let me through. I see no reason why I should be inconvenienced because these soldiers are so incompetent that they couldn’t find water in the middle of the sea.”
“Well, if they do let you through, you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I won’t be alone. I will take two guards with me. Does that satisfy you?”
The Smith’s reply was too low to hear. Aidan strained to make out the words, but he could not. But he did make out Ellywen’s equally low-voiced reply. “Where?”
Aidan heard the clink of metal, then Ellywen’s footsteps coming to the back of the smithy. They had been betrayed! He had no weapons, so he flexed his hands, ready to break Ellywen’s neck. Might as well take this opportunity to rid the world of one more Druid before he died.
Th
e curtain that separated the back from the front of the smithy was suddenly drawn. A little light spilled in, illuminating Ellywen’s pale face, her braided brown hair, and her cold, gray eyes. She held a sack in her hand. Tossing it to the floor, she said sharply, “Put those on.”
For a moment Aidan and Cadell could only stare at her. “Hurry up,” she hissed. “We haven’t much time.”
“What’s in the sack?” Cadell asked in astonishment.
“Coranian chain mail, helmets, and some weapons. Didn’t you hear me? I said I would take two guards.”
Still they did not move. How could they possibly trust her? On the other hand, Aidan thought, their choices were a bit limited at the moment. And she had not raised the alarm. Why would she trick them out of hiding when she could just call the soldiers right now and it would be all over?
“Why?” Aidan asked as he reached for the sack, not really expecting an answer.
“Because of Anieron,” she said, surprising him. “I felt him die three days ago. When he sang the song.”
Aidan raised his brows. “Since when do you care what the enemy does to the Kymri?”
“And because I helped capture Cian, and sent him to prison,” Ellywen went on, as though Aidan had not spoken. “And Achren would not kill me, even though I begged her to. And so I must live, for now. And do what I can to undo what I have done, until death takes me, as it ought.”
“Cian was your friend,” Cadell said quietly. “You and I and Cian served Rhoram for years together. How could you do what you did?”
“I am a Druid,” Ellywen said. “And I learned to do what I was told, as I was taught. But that is finished. Hurry up. Do you think we have all day to talk about this?”
Aidan and Cadell put on the Coranian byrnies; shirts made of interwoven metal that reached to just above their knees. They picked up their shields, and donned the helmets with the figure of a boar carved at the top. Each held a short spear.
“You’ll do,” Ellywen said shortly. “But not by much. For Modron’s sake, keep your heads down.”
Cadell laughed sharply. “For Modron’s sake? What right do you have to call on the Great Mother? You are a Druid, and have turned from her to the Coranian god.”
“Mock me, then,” Ellywen said between gritted teeth. “It is just what I would expect of a Dewin.”
“Cadell,” Aidan said quietly, “enough. Ellywen, if you get us through, you had best come with us. They will find you out.”
Ellywen shook her head. “No. I can’t. I must stay here. My duty now is to pass on any information I can to the network. Tell me whom to speak to.”
“So that’s it,” Cadell said flatly. “This is how you think to trick us into revealing them. It won’t work, Ellywen. You might as well kill us now.”
Ellywen’s gray eyes flashed, then subsided. “You are right to be suspicious. Very well, then, have your people contact me when they think things over. And let’s leave it at that. Now, hurry. We have spent too much time here as it is. Follow me.”
Ellywen turned and led the way to the front of the smithy. The Smith held her stirrup as she mounted her horse. For a moment Aidan hesitated. But they had no choice except to trust her. If she betrayed them, they might be able to die quickly, now that they were armed. He nodded at Cadell to follow, then marched to Ellywen’s side. Cadell took a place on the other side of her horse.
“How did you know about us?” Aidan asked.
“She saw you in the city and recognized you a few days ago,” the Smith replied, before Ellywen could answer. “She came to me and we thought of this, just in case.”
“Thank you,” Aidan said gratefully, though he knew better than to shake the Smith’s hand now that others could see them.
“I am glad to serve King Rhoram,” the Smith said quietly. “And I dream of the day when I can do so in the open again.”
“That day will come, my friend,” Aidan said. “It will come.”
“Shall this not be the fair day of freedom?” the Smith replied, a light in his eyes.
“As the song said,” Aidan agreed. “So it shall be.”
Ellywen clucked to her horse, and they moved off toward the east gate. They skirted the marketplace that was still in disarray. They saw squads of soldiers still searching the stalls, but they casually walked on by.
As they neared the east gate, Aidan saw that it was, indeed, closed, and guarded by thirty men at least. The Coranians were taking no chances. Ellywen rode up to the gate as though the men were not there. Finally, just as she was only a few feet away from the closed doors, she halted her horse. She sat there, looking down her nose at the Coranian Captain who had come up to them.
“May I help you, Druid Ellywen?”
“Open the gate.”
“I am sorry, my Lady. That is not possible.”
“Surely it is not impossible. I have seen your men do it hundreds of times,” Ellywen said with cool disdain.
The Captain flushed but held his ground. “We have orders to keep the gates closed until the men we are searching for are found.”
“But, Captain, your men are so inept that by the time they have found them, this day will be long over. And I am not going to wait until tomorrow.”
“I have my orders,” the Captain said shortly.
Ellywen leaned down in the saddle until she was just inches away from the Captain’s face. The hood of her brown Druid’s robe fell back. “Captain, do you know—really know—what Druids can do?”
The Captain paled and swallowed hard. “I—”
“No, don’t talk. Save your voice for screaming. Men do scream so when they are on fire.”
“But don’t worry. I don’t take offense. I know you are just doing your job. So I will make it easy for you. I am going to open that gate. And you are going to stand there and let me go through. Then no one has to die today. Understood?”
The Captain nodded.
“Good.” Ellywen gestured with her hand to the gate. The bar shot up into the air, then floated down gently to rest against the wall. The gates slowly swung open.
“That is called Shape-Moving,” Ellywen said to the Captain. “It is another one of the things we can do. Don’t forget that, will you?”
The Captain nodded, but did not speak. Smiling pleasantly, Ellywen rode forward out of the gate, with Aidan and Cadell following.
Ellywen rode on for nearly a league before she halted her horse.
“Ellywen,” Aidan said earnestly, “if you talk to the guards like that all the time, I am surprised they have not yet taken matters into their own hands and burned you for a witch.”
“They fear their leaders more than me,” Ellywen said. “And General Penda would not let them harm me.”
“For now,” Aidan warned.
“Do you think I don’t know that? I don’t think Penda lets me live because he likes me. He lets me live because the Archdruid wills it so.”
“And Cathbad’s wishes will cease to matter to the enemy very soon.”
“Another thing you think I do not know.” She nodded toward the people who were laboring in the vineyards to the north. “I will return to the city when they do, and by the north gate. In the crowd it will not be so obvious that I return alone. Now go.”
“Ellywen,” Aidan said as he grasped the horse’s bridle. “Come with us.”
“I have told you, I can’t. It will take me many years to even begin to undo what I have done. I must start here.”
“You must go—”
“I must stay. The better to view Rhoram’s eventual triumphant return to his city. If I am lucky, he will kill me.” She gave a tiny smile, one of the few Aidan had ever seen on her face, and he had known her for years. “Tell him that, incredible as it sounds, I miss him.”
“He won’t believe it,” Cadell warned.
“Oh, I think he will,” Aidan said. “He always did know us better than we knew ourselves.”
“Would that I had understood myself better before,” Ell
ywen said bitterly. “Then maybe Anieron would not have died.”
“But his death was triumphant, Ellywen,” Cadell pointed out. “Before he died, Taran of the Winds gave him a great boon. And he gave us a great song.”
“Yes,” Ellywen said quietly. “Shall this not be the fair day of freedom?’ Is there anyone in Kymru who could hear his song and believe that freedom is not far behind?”
“Yes,” Aidan said. “Freedom is at hand.”
“Not for me, Aidan ap Camber. Not for me.”
Suldydd, Tywyllu Wythnos—midmorning
KING RHORAM EXITED his tent, sitting down on a rock to wait for his guests. As he sat, he absently twisted the emerald ring on his finger. If he were right, the ring would leave his hand today.
Tonight, he and his people who were hidden here in the valley of Haford Bryn would celebrate Calan Olau, one of the eight yearly festivals of the Kymri. He remembered years past when this festival of the harvest had been celebrated. In those years there had been a harvest to celebrate. These days he and his people lived off the enemy caravans they had been able to capture, off the game and edible plants they could forage, off the dreams of a future when the land would be theirs again.
At Calan Olau they celebrated the tale of Mabon of the Sun, when the god returned from Gwlad Yr Haf, the Land of Summer, with the harvest in his hands. On this night the moon would not be seen in the sky, for his wife, Nantsovelta, Lady of the Waters, had come to earth to greet him. In the past there would have been a great fair and horse races by the dozen. In those days he had always entered the races, and had always won. He smiled wryly to himself—perhaps he was getting old, reliving glorious moments of his past. He remembered how he always chose a woman to help him celebrate, even after he had married Efa. By then he had truly understood whom he had married, but it had been too late to undo what he had done. The only years he had not chosen a woman were the few years he was with Rhiannon. Then he had not wanted anyone else but her.
His son, Geriant, and his daughter, Sanon, joined him, sitting on either side of him on the large rock.