The Pendragon's Challenge (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 7)

by Sarah Woodbury

  Taliesin had told Cade not to allow Penda’s and Peada’s acceptance of Mabon’s authority to color his understanding of the men too much. Mabon had bent far stronger men than they to his will—and had been doing so since the beginning of time. While it was Peada’s fault he was a coward—a fact for which Cade could not forgive him—he was Cade’s cousin, the son of the King of Mercia, and thus someone Cade could neither dismiss nor ignore.

  “Why are you here?” Cade halted at the head of the table near the fire where Peada and his men were sitting. They’d been served food and drink, though not by Rhiann’s hand. Cade was glad that she’d had the courage to defy convention in this. What was the point of being the Queen of Gwynedd if at times you couldn’t do what you wanted?

  “After the battle before Caer Fawr, my father asked if you would fight with him.” Peada paused to study Cade’s face. For the first time in Cade’s acquaintance, his look showed no superiority. Instead he appeared apprehensive. “What you may not know is that Oswin’s new army is even larger than the one he threw against us after Caer Fawr. We barely held them off that time. We won’t be able to do it again.”

  Cade took a chair from beside the fire and sat, his eyes never leaving Peada’s face. “After Caer Fawr, your father wouldn’t have held them off at all if not for the stomach sickness that swept through Northumbria. Oswin himself nearly died.”

  Peada made a dismissive motion with his hand, not denying the obvious truth, but not interested in discussing the past. “My father has sent me to ask you again to aid him, even to beg.”

  The last word came out of Peada’s mouth a little unsteadily, as if the very idea of begging was an anathema to him. It would have been to Cade too, so he didn’t begrudge Peada’s reluctance to speak as he had.

  What Peada didn’t know was that Taliesin had told Cade, in one of his rare moments of candor when he gave real advice instead of cryptic warnings, that there was nothing Cade could do for Penda except die among his army. The King of Mercia was doomed, if not this week or this month, then by the end of the year. So was Peada, but not as soon and for a different reason: shortly after the defeat at Caer Fawr, he had married Oswin’s own daughter, and it would be by her hand that he would eventually be brought down.

  Oswin wanted the whole of Saxon England, and he had no qualms whatsoever about doing what he deemed necessary to take it. In fact, he viewed the gift of his daughter to Peada as a sign that Peada was now his servant. In Oswin’s eyes, Mercia was an extension of Northumbria now, and he was marching to war not as one king challenging another, but to bring Peada and Penda to heel.

  In turn, for Cade, refusing to aid Penda wasn’t without consequences: if Cade let Mercia fall to Northumbria, Wales could be next. Of course, if Taliesin was right—and in this Cade would not question him—it was only a matter of time before Mercia fell no matter what Cade did. And if Cade and his men fought and died for a lost cause, there would be nobody left to defend Wales.

  “My father asks, at the very least, if you would be willing to meet with him, uncle to nephew and king to king,” Peada said. “In fact, it would be our preference that you came with me tonight.”

  Cade didn’t actually scoff out loud, but he was unable to keep his disbelief from his voice. “Tonight? You want me to ride with you tonight? To where?”

  “Chester.”

  Chester was a city that had long been a seat of power—first for the ancient Britons; then for the Romans, who’d made it their capitol in the north of Britain; then for the rulers of Rheged during the time of Arthur; and now for the Mercians. Set within the curve of the River Dee on its eastern bank, Chester protected Mercia from incursions across the border from Gwynedd. Cadfael, Rhiann’s father, had coveted the city, but like the men who’d ruled Gwynedd before him, he had never taken it.

  “You want me to ride to Chester only four days from my crowning?”

  Peada’s begging aside, this request alone was enough to show Cade how desperate Penda had become.

  “What better time? Meet him in the morning, and you can ride south to Caer Fawr immediately afterwards.” Peada spoke reasonably enough, but then he followed up his earnest request with a sneer and a scoff. “I know why you chose to accept the crown of the Britons there, but it’s hardly subtle.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be.” His elbow on the arm of his chair and a finger tapping his lips, Cade studied his cousin through a count of five. “It is bold of your father to ask me to walk into the lion’s den.”

  Peada’s face paled. “You know that my father doesn’t believe.”

  “Not even now that you do?” Cade had expected that his cousin would understand the Biblical reference, since he’d converted to Christianity at his wife’s request when he married her.

  “That is half the reason Oswin has targeted my father’s kingdom above any other. His priests tell him that all must follow the path of the Christ, and if he cannot convert them with words, then it must be by the sword.”

  “How Christian of them,” Cade said dryly.

  Peada shook his head. “I confess, cousin, that my new faith is shaken when I think back to the events at Caer Fawr.”

  “Why would that be?”

  Peada flung out a hand. “Demons came forth from the Underworld, led by the god, Mabon! How can you believe in the Christ after what you’ve seen with your own eyes?”

  “Just because Mabon exists does not mean the Christ did not die for our sins,” Cade said patiently. “Faith is a matter of believing even when you don’t have proof.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Did we not win?” Cade said.

  Peada stared at him.

  “Mabon is more powerful than any human, but his concerns are not ours. He cares only about himself,” Cade said. “Christ claims dominion over the human heart and soul, neither of which are of any concern to Mabon—or the rest of the sidhe.”

  Peada spoke around a tightly clenched jaw. “My wife’s priests refuse to believe that any of what I saw happened.”

  “That’s their blindness.” Cade leaned forward. “Will worshipping Mabon change his course? Does he in any way care about your adulation or bestow kindnesses on you—or your father for that matter—because you believe?”

  Peada deflated. “No.”

  “You’re worried about the wrong things, cousin,” Cade said. “Mabon might want to use you, but he doesn’t love you, and he can offer you nothing beyond the impermanence of this world.”

  Peada rose to his feet and bowed. “You should have been a priest, cousin. Your words are far more comforting than theirs.” He hesitated. “Will you come?”

  The very idea that Cade could say anything that might comfort Peada was disconcerting. Comforting Peada hadn’t been Cade’s intent, and he was thrown somewhat off-kilter by Peada’s sudden camaraderie and respect. Cade didn’t want to be friends with Peada, and he was so used to distrusting this Saxon cousin that he immediately reviewed everything that had passed between them with a measure of suspicion.

  So instead of agreeing, he stalled. “Why do you not ask to meet at your father’s castle at Westune? It is better fortified than Chester to withstand an assault by Oswin. Chester’s walls encompass far too large a space and require at least two hundred men to properly defend.”

  “Because Chester contains the secret of my father’s power,” Peada said.

  “How so?”

  “The dish that caught the blood of Christ lies within its walls.”

  Cade gaped at him. “You tell me truly? You have seen it?”

  Peada put out a hand. “No, not yet, but we know it’s there—somewhere. God will bestow victory on whichever army possesses it, and I intend that army to be mine.”

  Cade settled back in his chair. “Your father should care little for Christian myth, Peada. Does Penda know about your quest?”

  Peada laughed. “He leads it! Christian or pagan, it matters not. It is a Treasure, and sacred to all.”

  Cade found himse
lf swallowing hard. As with the Cup of Christ buried beneath Dinas Bran, the pagan and Christian traditions coincided in this instance too. Many had sought the dish that had caught Christ’s blood, and Cade would do everything in his power to prevent it from falling into the hands of any other creature—man or sidhe.

  Cade had still been of two minds about whether he would hear Penda out, but Peada’s news decided him. “I will come to Chester, but on my own terms. I had intended to leave tonight for Caer Fawr. After my crowning, I will ride to Chester and speak to your father.”

  “By then it will be too late.”

  Cade looked at him steadily. Even though Cade didn’t mean to reveal himself in that moment, something of the power inside him must have showed, because Peada’s face paled, and he bowed. “So be it. I wished for more, but the High King of the Britons has spoken.”

  Chapter Five

  Goronwy

  Mabon continued to grin at them. “Well, are we going or not?”

  Taliesin looked as if a litter of cats was fighting inside his head. If the little Goronwy knew about Taliesin’s gift was true, that description might not be far off. But the fact that Goronwy appeared to be recovering from the shock of the sidhe’s appearance quicker than Taliesin was perhaps more unsettling than the meeting itself.

  “The goddess cannot be serious.” Goronwy took in a deep breath and let it out, allowing the tension to ease out of him along with the air.

  Catrin was equally horrified. “How can we possibly bring him with us? How could Arianrhod give her son to you, knowing as she must how much trouble he’s caused us? He saw to the murder of Rhiann’s father! He almost saw to the death of every one of us—not to mention Cade’s entire army.”

  Goronwy added, somewhat less passionately, “Has she sent him to be a spy in our camp?”

  Catrin shook her head. “Why would she need a spy? She’s a sidhe.” She put a hand on Taliesin’s arm. “She is forbidden to interact with us. Does that mean she can’t see us anymore either?”

  Taliesin came out of his reverie, though his eyes were still on Mabon instead of them. “Perhaps.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t see, though, right?” Goronwy said. “We won’t be able to find the Treasures if you can’t guide us.”

  Taliesin closed his eyes, and such was the bard’s power that Goronwy could almost sense the threads of his sight leading out from this moment. Taliesin shook his head. “I can, and I can’t. I fear now that my visions have played me false. Perhaps they were meant to because a greater power is influencing my gift—one with ends of his own that I don’t share.”

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned a greater power,” Catrin said. “Who is it?”

  “I cannot say just yet.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” she said.

  Goronwy found his hand going to the small of Catrin’s back, and he turned her away from Mabon so they were huddled close to the bard, in the hope that Mabon couldn’t overhear. “We should turn around now. We can’t do our task with Mabon at our side. The best course of action I can think of is to return to Dinas Bran until this blows over and lock Mabon in the cellar where he can’t do any harm.”

  “No.” Catrin shook her head. “Who’s to say what kind of damage he could do even behind iron bars? A whisper in this guard’s ear or a touch to that maid’s hand, and he would spread his influence throughout the castle. He could bring down Cade’s rule without even leaving his cell. Besides—” she shuddered, “—Dinas Bran isn’t safe.”

  Goronwy frowned. It was in his mind that on the battlements Catrin had come to tell him about her fears, but like an idiot he hadn’t paid heed to her at the time. “I’m also concerned about what Arianrhod hasn’t told us. In particular, how long are we to put up with Mabon? You’ve said yourself, Taliesin, that a day in our world can be a week in theirs or vice versa. Perhaps our best option is to stay away from Dinas Bran but also not to seek the Treasures. That would prevent Mabon from seeking them too.”

  “We can’t abandon our quest,” Catrin said. “The Treasures—”

  “Forget the Treasures! Who gives a damn about the bloody Treasures? I certainly don’t. They’re trinkets meant to drive men mad—nothing more or less.”

  Catrin studied Goronwy, seemingly unalarmed by his sudden anger, which was gone within a few heartbeats of its appearance anyway. He didn’t know what it was about the girl, but she tugged on him. Some men might complain that Catrin made them uncomfortable, but except at the very first, Goronwy had never felt that way about her. They’d been thrown together often since they’d come north from Caerleon, and in all that time he’d never heard her babble, as some women did, or demand attention or conversation. She had the admirable talent of silence.

  He put out a hand to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted, but Mabon is a sidhe. A few days, a few years—they are nothing to him.”

  Meanwhile, Taliesin’s expression was as grave as Goronwy had ever seen it—and it had been plenty grave beneath the caverns of Caer Dathyl.

  “I know you seek the Treasures,” Mabon said loudly, finally having grown tired of being excluded. “Truly, I mean you no ill, and I can help you in your quest.”

  Goronwy eyed Mabon sourly. “Like you helped find them before the battle at Caer Fawr? We don’t need that kind of help.”

  Mabon looked affronted. “I wasn’t collecting them for myself!”

  Catrin pounced on the admission. “If not for yourself, then for whom?”

  At the question, Mabon seemed to realize that he’d given them new information because a sly look overcame his face. “That is not your concern.” He turned away and began to saunter down the road, plucking daisies and throwing them onto the road as he did so. It was wanton destruction and typical of Mabon.

  Taliesin watched Mabon’s retreating back for a moment, and then he turned to Catrin and Goronwy. “Do you feel magic from him?”

  Goronwy was already halfway into shaking his head before he realized that Taliesin hadn’t been talking to him. He looked away, trying to appear as unconcerned as possible, as if it hadn’t been strange at all that he had answered.

  But Catrin had noticed, and she pinned him with her gaze.

  Goronwy shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

  “You know what,” Taliesin said, proving not only that he’d been paying attention all along, but that Goronwy hadn’t fooled him for a single day.

  One of the things it was important to remember about Taliesin was that sometimes he was oblivious to everything that most men found interesting—wine, women, material possessions—such that a man forgot about the mind that lay beneath the vacant looks and absent-minded ramblings. Taliesin was a force to be reckoned with once he focused his attention on what he’d decided was important. Goronwy should have known that this day would come.

  “What are we talking about?” Catrin looked from one man to the other.

  Taliesin tsked through his teeth. “You would have heard of Goronwy’s mother. Her name was Nest.”

  “The great seeress!” Catrin spun on her heel to face Goronwy. “When were you going to mention that you have the sight too?”

  Goronwy cursed himself for letting down his guard and Mabon for distracting him. “Never.” He just managed not to shrink away from her glare. “Let’s just say that my abilities in that area are of far less consequence than yours.”

  Catrin’s eyes flashed again, and she took a step towards him. “I knew from the first that there was something different about you, but you so steadfastly hid your gift that I kept telling myself I was mistaken. I wasn’t!”

  “No.” Taliesin hummed a little tune under his breath.

  Goronwy would find no help from that quarter, so he tried again to explain to Catrin. “I know so little—”

  “That would be because you push your gift away and refuse to use what has been given to you. You should be ashamed of yourself.” She huffed away from him, but then pulled up at the sight of Mab
on, who had stopped his carnage among the flowers and was watching their exchange with blatant curiosity.

  None of them thought it was a good idea to show weakness or disunity in front of him. So, under the watching eyes of Taliesin, Goronwy closed his eyes and quested into the depths of his soul for the power that lay dormant in the center of his being. He knew it was still there, even after all these years. All he had to do to awaken it was open the box where he’d hidden it.

  Except it wasn’t quite that easy. Even as he moved towards it in his mind and felt a flicker of power, he shied away—not so much at the light or heat, but at the uncomfortable feeling it gave him, like ants running up and down his arms. He recoiled and opened his eyes.

  “It’s still there,” Catrin said, in what he sensed was meant to be a reassuring manner. “You just need practice.”

  Mabon guffawed. “I could have told you that.”

  Goronwy reached for Catrin’s hand and spoke in an undertone meant only for Catrin’s ears. “But would he have?”

  Her mouth twitched, which was what he’d hoped for.

  “You’re not forgiven,” she said.

  “I should hope not.” Goronwy smiled to himself. Amusement was better than fear or anger, and if any of them were going to survive the next few days, they would need to keep their wits about them. “You are not wrong. I shouldn’t have let my gift go unused all these years.”

  She canted her head. “Then again, perhaps you didn’t. Aren’t your abilities on the battlefield in part because you can sense a warrior’s movements before he makes them?”

  It was what Goronwy himself had thought. He cleared his throat, realizing as he did so that he should never disparage his gifts again in front of her. He wondered if Cade knew too and decided immediately that if he hadn’t fooled Taliesin, he hadn’t fooled Cade either. Then Catrin squeezed his hand to show that maybe she really had forgiven him. The sight of her upturned nose and the splash of freckles across her cheeks left him momentarily nonplussed.