To mask his confusion, he took a few quick steps to move slightly in front of her so she couldn’t see his face—though he continued holding her hand. Silently, Goronwy and Catrin followed Taliesin, filing past Mabon who stood in the middle of the road, not moving. For all that he had wanted to carry on earlier, now he was unhappy. Perhaps Goronwy’s jibes had gotten to him after all. Goronwy didn’t look back, but after they’d gone a dozen yards he wasn’t surprised to hear Mabon’s crunching footsteps on the road behind them. Then Mabon came abreast, swinging his arms, the supercilious expression returned to his face. “I don’t need looking after.”
“Good,” Goronwy said. “Because I have no intention of looking after you.”
Mabon quickened his pace in order to pass Goronwy and Catrin and catch up with Taliesin. “I could go my own way, and you would have to come with me.”
“I would have to do no such thing.” Taliesin’s legs were long, and Mabon skipped once to stay on pace.
“Where are we going? You must tell me.”
Taliesin continued walking, making Mabon wait for an answer or, more likely, lost in his own thoughts and only remembering after some time had passed that Mabon had wanted something more from him. “We are going to the abbey.”
That they finally had a destination was welcome news to Goronwy, but Mabon recoiled. “Which—which abbey?”
Taliesin gestured ahead. They had come the last few paces down the mountain. “Valle Crucis Abbey, which lies along this path northwest of the castle.”
“Why would you go there?” Mabon said.
“To find answers.”
“What answers?” Mabon said.
“If we knew the answers, we would hardly need to go there to find them, would we?” Goronwy said.
Mabon swung around to glare at Goronwy. “I have a right to know—”
Goronwy overrode him. “When you are ready to tell us what you’re really doing here, we will let you in on what we’re doing here. Until then, you can cease to speak.”
Likely, nobody had ever spoken to Mabon this way in the eternity of his existence. The sidhe clenched his hands into fists and stepped in front of Goronwy. “How dare you—” But instead of finishing his sentence, he swung with his right fist at Goronwy in a roundhouse motion Goronwy saw coming before the thought of hitting him had formed completely in Mabon’s mind.
Although Goronwy had many weapons at his disposal, he didn’t need any of them. He merely sidestepped Mabon’s punch, such that Mabon, who’d expected to connect with Goronwy’s face, lost his balance on the follow through, spun, flailed, and then, having reached the edge of the road where it ended in a downward slope, lost his balance. He shrieked in a satisfyingly ungodlike fashion and fell.
Catrin edged closer to Goronwy as they looked over the edge of the road at Mabon. “He will hate you forever for this.”
“He will, but how is that different from how he felt about me—and all of us—before today?”
Mabon growled as he clambered back up the slope. Despite his supposed lack of power, his clothes showed no evidence of dust, which meant his glamour was firmly in place. He glared at Goronwy, and then he transferred his gaze to Catrin. The god’s lecherous smile made Catrin look down at her feet, and Goronwy wanted to punch him for real this time.
But instead, he took Catrin’s elbow and set off with her down the road towards the abbey. Meanwhile, the awful truth resonated through his whole being, and he didn’t need to tap into his sight to see it: controlling Mabon in human form might prove to be even more difficult than controlling him as a sidhe.
Chapter Six
Catrin
“How far to the abbey from here?” Mabon hustled to catch up with them instead of affecting his usual arrogant saunter.
“Eight miles,” Catrin said.
Mabon was silent for a moment. And then, “Did you say eight?”
Catrin didn’t answer. Neither did the men, though Catrin caught the twitch at the corner of Goronwy’s mouth. He would have complained about the distance if Mabon hadn’t been with them—and he knew it. Taliesin, of course, didn’t usually answer any questions or say anything at all. He’d spoken more in the last hour than Catrin had heard from him ever. Sometimes Taliesin’s silence was an aggravating trait, but in this case, he was right not to answer. Mabon had heard Catrin fine the first time.
“What’s wrong with riding horses?” Mabon planted himself in the middle of the road and spoke in a loud voice—loud enough to wake the peasants in the house across a pasture from the road.
It was Goronwy who answered. “Taliesin likes to feel the earth beneath his feet.”
Mabon snorted at that—a remarkably similar sound to the one Goronwy had made in response to the same information. This time Goronwy defended Taliesin, which was equally amusing in its way. “Taliesin says that where we’re going, horses would be a hindrance.”
Mabon stared at the back of Taliesin’s head while the bard marched steadfastly on, ignoring them. Catrin had come to understand that it wasn’t that he was absentminded. It was rather that he was listening to so many different voices—in his head, from the earth, from the sidhe—that it took all his focus and energy to keep them distinct. Speaking to an actual, living person was a fourth voice that at times was beyond his abilities.
For her part, as Catrin started walking again, avoiding the rain-filled ruts made by centuries of cart wheels, she felt connected to the earth for the first time in weeks. She tested the currents in the air and breathed deeply. Neither the unrest within Mabon nor her uncertainty about journeying with Goronwy once again, could dismay her. When she’d arrived at the gate and seen Taliesin leaving, she’d known that it was her role to go with him. It hadn’t been in any way part of her plan—and quite the opposite, in fact—to find Goronwy alongside her too.
“You mean the world of the sidhe.” Mabon hurried to pass Taliesin and then turned around to come to a halt in front of him, forcing Taliesin to choose between stopping or going around him.
Taliesin stopped.
“How are you going to get there? My mother said—”
Taliesin sighed. “I know what your mother said, but Beli’s restrictions apply to you, not me. A path that should still be open lies beneath the abbey, which is why we’re going there.” He looked Mabon up and down. “As I said.”
Taliesin actually hadn’t said anything before about a path to the Otherworld underneath the abbey. Catrin was sure of it. Still, she could see now why horses might prove a hindrance, even if a three-hour walk in the middle of the night meant no sleep for any of them. Maybe Taliesin didn’t need to sleep at all. Catrin didn’t know the bard well enough to judge.
Mabon’s eyes were still narrowed at Taliesin. His earlier amusement had vanished as quickly as it had come. If they were going to survive, they would all need to get used to these abrupt mood swings and figure out how to manage them. Mabon pointed with his chin at Catrin, who was standing just beyond Taliesin’s left shoulder. “I wouldn’t have brought a woman on this adventure, but I can see why you couldn’t resist, old boy.” He clapped a hand on the Taliesin’s shoulder. “She provides good sport, does she?”
Catrin was so shocked, she laughed. Taliesin stared at Mabon blankly, and Catrin laughed again because she wasn’t sure that Taliesin realized what Mabon had just suggested. Goronwy, on the other hand, moved so quickly that, before Mabon could see him coming, he had Mabon’s feet pulled out from under him with a sweep of a leg. Mabon sprawled on his back on the ground, with the tip of Goronwy’s sword to his throat. If Mabon had still been a sidhe, he could have slowed time and deflected Goronwy, but he’d lost the ability for now.
Despite her appreciation of his actions and skill, Catrin put her hand on Goronwy’s free arm. “Don’t kill him.”
“I don’t care who your mother is.” Goronwy glared down at Mabon. “You will never speak of Catrin that way again.”
Mabon put up his hands, palms out. His eyes were so wide it loo
ked as if he was trying to see under his chin to determine how close the sword was to breaking the skin. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You most certainly did,” Goronwy said.
Catrin glanced at Taliesin, who was gazing north and not speaking—not even paying attention as far as Catrin could tell. The man truly was a mystery. She turned back to Goronwy. “Let him go, my lord. He isn’t worth whatever trouble killing him would cause.”
“It would be worth it,” Goronwy said, but he stepped back and sheathed his sword. “He calls himself a god, but he isn’t worthy to polish your boots.” He spat on the ground beside Mabon.
Mabon scrambled to his feet and scuttled away, putting Taliesin between him and Goronwy.
“Apologize to Catrin.” Taliesin still hadn’t looked at any of them, but his words proved he’d been listening all along.
Mabon’s mouth worked. At first Catrin thought he was going to refuse, but then he straightened and bowed in Catrin’s general direction. “I apologize, Madam. I meant no disrespect.” With an abrupt turn, he faced north and set off walking. A moment later, Taliesin was marching along after him.
From beside Catrin, Goronwy growled something barely intelligible, but included profanity and a comment about Mabon’s antecedents.
“You shouldn’t say such things, even if Arianrhod and Arawn aren’t listening.” Catrin still had a hand on his arm, and she squeezed it once, gently, before letting go. “Thank you. No one has ever defended my honor before.”
Goronwy growled again. “That almost makes it worse. It was an honor to defend you.”
Ahead of them, Mabon’s mouth remained closed and his shoulders hunched, momentarily subdued by what had happened.
Goronwy aside, it was good to have more proof, before they traveled any farther on this journey, that Mabon was a mortal man as Arianrhod had promised. Goronwy could have killed him. Catrin almost regretted that she’d intervened.
Catrin eyed the god as he stalked a few paces away. Once they resumed walking, he kept his distance from them all, to the point that it seemed at times that he was leading their party down the road instead of Taliesin. Certainly he was actively avoiding Goronwy. Another few paces, and they had reached another house. A baby cried inside, and his mother hushed him. Catrin didn’t think she was mistaken that she heard a hint of fear in the mother’s voice.
Goronwy poked his head through the doorway, which was covered by a leather curtain, and spoke softly enough that Catrin couldn’t hear him. Then he backed away as a young man—perhaps only a year or two into his manhood—stepped out.
“You have need of me, my lord?”
“I have a message for you to deliver to the castle,” Goronwy said.
“At this hour? The woods are full of demons!”
“Don’t pretend to me that you care. You aren’t afraid of the dark; anyway, you were getting up within the hour to visit your girl in the village.”
The boy’s expression turned sheepish. “It’s a long way up to the castle though, and she’s waiting for me.”
“It’ll be faster if you run.” And then Goronwy gave him a summary of what had happened since they’d left the castle, leaving nothing out, including Mabon’s recent encounter with the Goronwy’s sword.
The young man stared at him, his eyes as big as trenchers. Goronwy lifted his chin to point in the direction of the castle. “Go.”
The young man ducked his head in a quick bow. “Yes, my lord. It is done.” He ran off.
“You gave him an earful. That’s a great deal to remember,” Catrin said as she watched the boy’s retreating back.
“He will remember it. He has a bard’s gift for it.”
“Our visit here will be all over the countryside tomorrow.”
“The boy can keep a secret too. It would be best if the news that spreads is no more exciting than that we passed through. As long as the sidhe walk among us, it could be very much worse than that.”
Chapter Seven
Taliesin
It was well past midnight when the companions reached Valle Crucis: the Valley of the Cross. It was a peaceful spot, with green fields and a brook running merrily through the grounds.
“The Horn of Immortality isn’t here you know, if that’s why we’ve come,” Mabon said as they halted in front of the gatehouse. “I already looked.”
Goronwy edged between Taliesin and Mabon. “When was this?”
Since the time of the Romans, the abbey had been a place of pilgrimage for Christians, not only throughout Britain, but in other countries as well. It was here that men believed Joseph of Arimathea had left the Cup of Christ. The pilgrims were right, of course, but Taliesin was pleased that the secret of the horn’s location remained his and Cade’s. Though he was surprised too, since the darkness beneath Dinas Bran shouldn’t have been difficult to detect. And yet, Arianrhod had not mentioned it.
Mabon shrugged. “Months ago now.” He grinned at Taliesin. “Don’t worry, the monks won’t know me in this guise. I’m looking forward to hearing what they have to say when you ask for it.”
Taliesin thought but didn’t say, “Who says I’m here to ask for it?” Instead he gave way to Catrin, who said, “What did they tell you?”
“Nothing of use,” Mabon said.
“You didn’t hurt any of them, did you?” Catrin said.
“Of course not.” And then Mabon laughed—one that sent shivers down Taliesin’s spine. “Not in a way that any of them would remember.”
Goronwy put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but then eased it away before leaning in to whisper to Taliesin. “I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth, or if he speaks as he does merely to aggravate.”
Taliesin’s gifts hadn’t deserted him in this instance, because he himself could tell. “A little of both. Remember, he’s been walking among humans for countless years. He knows something of us.”
“Our weaknesses, surely,” Goronwy said. “He has seemed continually surprised, however, that we have strengths too.”
And that was definitely one of Mabon’s weaknesses. With a nod from Taliesin, Goronwy pulled a rope, and a bell chimed inside the abbey, though not with a tolling sound as when a church called people to worship, but with just a little tinkling somewhere close by.
While Catrin waited patiently, as was her fashion, Goronwy stood with his arms folded across his chest and stared impassively at the door. Mabon shifted from foot to foot, already bored. Taliesin himself kept his eyes on the gatekeeper only he could see: a wizened old monk who crouched by the door, smiling at one and all. Taliesin nodded at him, and the man smiled back.
It couldn’t quite be said that Taliesin could see ghosts, since ghosts didn’t exist as most people thought of them. They could not harm or affect normal men. What did exist was a spiritual remnant of the dead, which remained behind in the same way that their physical remains could still be seen. Nobody occupied these misty beings most of the time, but an occasional soul had the wherewithal to return to this plane of existence by animating their spiritual form. Such a creature couldn’t harm the living, but he could speak to them.
Or, at least, he could speak to Taliesin. Taliesin’s sight may have failed far too many times this evening, but he had other gifts to call upon. This ghost might not know what lay beneath the abbey, but there were others in the abbey who did. While Taliesin didn’t have a choice but to follow the path that lay before his feet, he would keep an eye out for any shade who could speak to him about the dangers he faced.
Finally, footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, and a window in it opened.
“Who wakes us at this hour?” A man with white whiskers stuck his pointed nose through the opening. Taliesin didn’t answer, just looked at him. The man pursed his lips, clearly not happy about Taliesin’s presence, but he nodded anyway. “Right.”
The door opened, and the man gestured to the companions that they should enter. With a last glance at the spirit at the door, who was still
chuckling to himself, Taliesin led the way inside.
But not everyone was able to follow. As Catrin made to cross the threshold behind Taliesin, the gatekeeper’s arm swung up to block her. “We do not suffer women to enter our presence.”
While Taliesin had been speaking to him, Catrin had been standing to the right of Goronwy, hidden by his bulk, so the gatekeeper hadn’t seen her at first.
It wasn’t as if Taliesin had forgotten that the monks here didn’t like women, but he had no patience with such prejudice either. Women were a focus of spiritual energy and were more emotional and intuitive than men by nature. These monks were fools to exclude them from their practices.
“Why not?” Mabon’s chin stuck out in a look that had become very familiar.
“Evil resides within them,” the monk said.
Taliesin rubbed his chin, feeling the bristles just poking through the skin. He hadn’t shaved this morning. “She is with me.”
“It does not matter. It is our law.”
Mabon suddenly grinned. “You are more foolish than I expected if that’s what you think women are about.”
For the first time ever, Taliesin agreed with Mabon. That wouldn’t do at all. But at the same time, he would not side with the monks. Any man who could dismiss his own mother as a source of evil had no place in Taliesin’s world. Fortunately, these monks were an isolated sect, and their beliefs were shared by no other abbey in Wales that Taliesin knew of—or he would have been speaking more pointedly to Cade about the proclivities of this god of his.
Catrin shot Mabon a sour look. “It’s all right, Taliesin. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.”
Goronwy wasn’t having any of it. “I have been baptized, and I have never heard of such a prohibition.” He shouldered his way forward, elbowing the monk in the chest as he crossed the threshold. The man fell back. Since Goronwy’s arm was around Catrin’s waist, she came with him whether the monk liked it or not. Then Goronwy pulled the hood of Catrin’s cloak over her head to hide her hair. “We won’t be but a moment.”
The Pendragon's Challenge (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 7) Page 5