The Last Pendragon (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 1)

by Sarah Woodbury

  Rhiannon. Cade had told her that he’d noticed her behind her father’s chair, but notice wasn’t quite the word he should have used. He’d sensed her gaze on him before he reached the dais. He’d remained aware of her, there on the periphery of his vision, impossible to dismiss or ignore, throughout his subsequent conversation with Cadfael. She might not realize it, but everyone else in the room knew that the idea of her as a serving wench was laughable. Cadfael, the fool, had no notion of what he had on his hands. Or perhaps he did and sought to quell her—or even break her—if he could. Cade shook his head at the thought. Perhaps the odds were long, but he was betting on Rhiann.

  He raised his hands above his head to study them. The bruising was all but gone, and he had a flash of unaccustomed gratitude—in contrast to his usual loathing—towards the power that curled within him, tamed now, but still sending out tendrils of energy that Cade fought constantly to contain. Cade touched a hand to his lip. He’d enjoyed Rhiann’s ministrations, but in truth, he was healing just fine without her. If he were here at dawn, which he had no intention of being, Cadfael would be pleased.

  Cade had already quartered the room before Rhiann arrived and come up with exactly one avenue of escape: the window. Now, he got to his feet to check it again. Looking down, he acknowledged that he could jump the distance, but to what end? The activity continued in the courtyard on the other side of the building. If he did reach the ground, the men-at-arms who watched the gate would be after him before he’d run ten paces. He might be able to fight them off, kill them all as he could have killed the two guards in Cadfael’s hall, but if the gate was closed, he would be no closer to freedom than he was now. Even he couldn’t batter through solid wood.

  Cade leaned far out the window, still unable to see anything from this vantage point—not even the gallows of which Rhiann had spoken—other than the high wooden fence that faced him. He eyed the distance to the fence. Jumping the thirty feet separating him from the balustrade might not be beyond his abilities, but the impact when he hit it might send him right through the wooden planks.

  I’ll bide my time until midnight has passed. The guards will be tired and everyone else in bed. Resolved to wait, Cade returned to the floor and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift into the darker corners and reaches of his mind.

  * * * * *

  “Tap ... tap ... tap ...”

  Cade opened his eyes to the burned-out fire and darkened room. He pushed to his feet, straightening his spine, which was stiff from holding the same position for so long. As before, a faint light came from beneath the door.

  “Tap ... tap ... tap ...”

  Crouching, Cade peered through a crack between two slats in the wood. “Who’s there?”

  “Madoc.”

  Cade thought back through his acquaintances for someone named Madoc who could be alive and here and came up blank.

  “I was one of your father’s men-at-arms.”

  “Will you unlatch the door?” Cade said, getting to the only point that was of any interest to him.

  “That’s not the plan,” Madoc said. “The other guard has gone to relieve himself, so we haven’t much time.”

  “Time for what?” Cade said.

  “Your mother asks you to look out your window.”

  My mother? My window?

  Cade strode from the door to the window. He’d closed but not latched the wooden shutters earlier, and now pulled them open, revealing a clear night and a full moon. He’d been lost in his thoughts far longer than he’d intended and perhaps only three hours remained before dawn.

  He looked down. Aberffraw stood on a high mound, surrounded by a wooden palisade and deep trench. To the northeast flowed a river Cade couldn’t see from his window. Beyond that lay a forest, and to the west and south, the sea. Between the house and the fence Cade could make out nothing but shadows in the dark. Then one of the shapes moved and coalesced into a human form.

  “Cade!”

  “Rhiann!”

  She pushed back the hood of her cloak, so he could see her better. She wore men’s clothes: boots, breeches, and shirt. At the sight of her, hope rose in Cade, but he instantly suppressed it.

  “Catch!” Rhiann’s arm swung like a pendulum, and Cade leaned out the window to grab the rope she threw to him.

  Trying to hurry while at the same time keeping quiet, he turned to look over the room. It contained no furniture to which he might tie the rope, but the supporting beams of the building were stronger than furniture would have been anyway. One of the rafters that supported the roof stretched from above the door in the opposite wall to a point just above the window. Cade reached up to it and hung on it, testing its ability to hold his weight. It held him easily, without shifting or sagging, so he looped the rope over it and tied it tight.

  Cade glanced once at Rhiann who stood with her white face upturned. Committed now to the endeavor, he lifted one leg over the rim of the window, tugged once on the rope to test its strength and that of his knot, and then began to climb down. Rhiann had thoughtfully knotted the rope every two feet, sparing his hands a burn. Cade walked his feet down the wall, moving hand under hand, and then dropped the last six feet. He landed hard, glad his captors hadn’t taken his boots when they’d confiscated his weapons.

  “I hope that didn’t wake the household,” Cade said in a hoarse whisper.

  “We want them awake,” Rhiann said.

  “We do?” Cade opened his mouth to ask for an explanation, but Rhiann shushed him with a hand on his arm and a finger to his lips, touching him again like no one had touched him in years. For good reason.

  “Not now. You’ll see.” Rhiann handed Cade a cloak, which he threw over his shoulders, and then surprised him with a belt and sword.

  “What’s this?” Cade strapped the belt around his waist.

  “You’ll need that sword wherever you’re going,” she said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find the one that my father took from you, but this one was in the armory in a chest, unused. As freeing you will surely anger my father, the donation of a sword seemed a small matter.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Rhiann shook her head, choosing not to answer. Instead, she grabbed Cade’s hand—oblivious to the threat to her or the cost to him—and led him along the side of the building, coming to a halt at the corner of the keep. Cade peered over her shoulder and found the reason for the inattention of the guards, Rhiann’s unconcern about the noise they had made, and her notion that he would more easily escape with everyone in the fort awake.

  The stables were on fire.

  “It was your mother’s idea,” Rhiann said, almost apologetically. “It was all we could think of to draw attention away from your escape.”

  “By all that is holy, you are reckless,” Cade said.

  They stood in the shadows, waiting for more men to fill the courtyard and provide them with cover and confusion. It didn’t take long. Within a count of fifty, the space between them and the stables was a seething mass of men and horses. As the whinnying horses were freed from the stables one by one, Cade recognized his own horse, Cadfan, racing past.

  He stepped out of the shadows, and Rhiann released his hand.

  “Go!” she said.

  Cade didn’t need any further urging. He ran forward to intercept Cadfan. The horse had no bridle, so Cade grabbed his mane and threw himself onto his back. Head low, sprawled across the stallion’s neck, Cade held on as Cadfan galloped toward the gate, which had been opened to allow a chain of people with water buckets to snake out of the fort and down the pathway to a stream. Cade followed them, staying low on the horse and as far out of the torchlight as he could.

  As soon as he passed through the gate, Cade turned Cadfan away from the workers, following the palisade to the east. Cadfan had calmed by the time the darkness enveloped them fully and Cade headed him for the stream. As they splashed through the water and crossed to the other side, Cade sat up to look back. A glow from the burning s
tables lit the sky, but from where he sat, it appeared the fire had not spread.

  Without a doubt, Rhiann’s father would curse the expense of rebuilding the stables. What he would do when he discovered the loss of his prisoner, Cade didn’t know, but he could guess. Cadfael would never be able to say, however, that he hadn’t invited Cade in.

  Cade felt a moment’s pang for Rhiann’s safety. It was a welcome change from fearing for his own. Now that he had escaped, the exhilaration was ebbing, leaving him with the sick, shocked feelings he’d had before: at Cadfael’s betrayal; at the death of his friends and companions; at his imprisonment. The actions of Rhiann and his mother simply added to his bewilderment.

  Cade looked for Rhiann among the human chain that carried water to the fire, not wanting to disappear without thanking her, but knowing that she wouldn’t want her night’s work wasted and him caught. Even as he hesitated, she ran down the path towards him, leading another horse and carrying an extra bridle for Cadfan in her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Cade took the reins she offered and hastily looped them over Cadfan’s head.

  “Coming with you.”

  “Rhiannon,” Cade said, his voice low and urgent. “You can’t possibly.”

  “I have to. Your mother insisted on it. There’s no future for me at Aberffraw.”

  “It’s your home.”

  “It has never been a home for me, only a prison.” Rhiann mounted her horse and turned his head away from the fort. “Besides, you don’t know this country. If I let you go alone, you’ll stumble about in the dark until you’re captured again, and all this work will be for nothing.”

  Cade’s night vision was exceptional, but she couldn’t know that, and he found it hard to argue with her. Worse, he found that he didn’t want to argue with her. “We must cross the Strait and reach the mainland. Those lands I know, and from there I can lead us to safety.”

  “Where is safety from the King of Gwynedd?” she said.

  “Dinas Emrys,” he said.

  “That’s my father’s fort, isn’t it?”

  “Not anymore,” Cade said.

  Realizing they were running out of time and that he didn’t have the words to force her back to Aberffraw, Cade spurred Cadfan forward into the trees that formed a dark barrier on the other side of the stream. Rhiann followed and pointed them along a path that wound through the trees.

  “This leads to Gwalchmai, a small settlement some five miles inland from Aberffraw,” she said. “We should probably find a different road before that, as I don’t know how quickly my father will send riders to pursue us.”

  “We might have a little time before they discover my absence,” Cade said. “No doubt they will organize a search, for you as well as for me.”

  They rode far more slowly than Cade would have liked, but it was dark under the trees. It took some effort to focus on the lane ahead and avoid any obstacles in their path. After two miles, the pair turned off the first road onto a smaller one that would bring them to the Menai Strait. Soon, they would reach the point where Rhiann’s father had ambushed Cade and his men. Cade glanced at Rhiann, but she was concentrating hard, and he left her to her thoughts, focusing instead on dark memories of his own.

  We cross the Strait at low tide, ferried in boats rented for that purpose. The oarsmen refuse to look at me, but my thoughts are elsewhere, and I choose not to read more into their actions than I think they warrant. A mistake.

  Once on the Anglesey side of the Strait, we ride along the road to Aberffraw in good formation. The clouds above our heads are thick with rain, although the deluge has stopped for now. I am wary, but in good spirits.

  Cadfael’s priest is among us, surety for the pact Cadfael swears he’ll make with me. The priest has made himself useful throughout our journey, blessing our departure, blessing the waters as we crossed them, and swearing on the piece of the True Cross I wear around my neck that he will ensure my well-being until we reach Cadfael. His sycophantic nature rubs me the wrong way, but I ignore it, believing him sincere.

  Perhaps he was.

  The February sun comes out from behind a cloud and is unaccountably bright. It flashes down on the priest, who is bowing and smiling at me for perhaps the one-hundredth time, before disappearing again. Although my hood shades my eyes, I wince at the momentary brightness. Distracted by the priest, my foster-father, Cynyr, leans forward to speak.

  And with that, the forest erupts around us.

  The first arrows pierce our ranks. Cadfan screams and rears. I instantly lose track of both the priest and Cynyr.

  “Retreat!” I shout, realizing too late that we have walked into a trap and are vastly outnumbered. I turn Cadfan’s head in order to flee back the way we came, but as I urge Cadfan forward, Cadfael’s men block the road behind us. They don’t even bother to hide their colors, mocking me with his banner, which he openly displays, wanting me to understand who comes against me.

  Deion, one of my captains, takes his place beside me. He has cut through four of our attackers. The bloodlust of battle has blinded me to everything but the sword in my hand and the men who have died upon it, but I come to myself at his approach, aware of my downed men and that we are losing. Then, a fresh company of Cadfael’s men surges from the woods to surround us.

  “Halt!” Cadfael’s captain shouts.

  I had raised my sword, ready to continue the fight, but arrest the motion. Both of my last two men are on the ground now, a sword to their throats. I lower my sword in the faint hope that I can save them by my surrender.

  The captain saunters toward me, arrogance in every line of his body. “Do you admit defeat?” he asks, gesturing to my companions. “I will spare them if you submit.”

  I nod. Within moments, I am on the ground myself. A soldier ties my hands behind my back and bloodies my face with an errant boot. As even the great Arthur himself once found, strength can be defeated by treachery. The captain smiles as he hauls me to my feet and pulls me towards a wagon that will carry me to Aberffraw.

  He glances over his shoulder. “Kill the others.”

  Only death, whether his or mine, will spare Cadfael my revenge.

  Cade glanced at Rhiann. The woods were thicker along the smaller road, but they had moved more quickly than his best hopes, once he accepted that he had Rhiann with him. “You’ve done well. This ride has not been easy.”

  “We still have a long way to go,” she said. “Don’t congratulate me just yet.”

  They reached the water’s edge as dawn broke, not that it was much of a dawn. In the hours since Cade had stood in the window at Aberffraw, the clouds had come in to obscure the moon and now hung low to the ground. Soon it would begin to drizzle. Cade stared across the Strait, peering through the gray mist to the mainland of Gwynedd and feeling unrelieved tension in the pit of his stomach.

  He studied the water. It flowed southeast, indicating that the tide was going out. The best time to cross the Strait was when the water was at its calmest, approximately one hour before high or low tide. That ideal time would be soon. Grown men and ships had foundered in the unexpectedly strong currents, even when the water was less than ten feet deep and only two hundred yards across at its narrowest point. Here, it was much deeper and wider. Cade eyed the distance, calculating the effort it would take to cross it.

  “You mean to swim it here?” Rhiann said.

  “There is nothing for it. We’ve no choice but to keep going.” Cade looked her up and down. “We’ll need to dismount and remove our clothing. It will only drag us down and ensure we die from exposure before noon.”

  Rhiann nodded.

  Wordlessly, Cade stripped to his loincloth and she to hardly more—just braies, although she’d bound her breasts with a long strip of linen wrapped around her chest and tied in a knot at her breastbone. Cade stuffed the clothes into the saddlebags on Rhiann’s horse and strapped his sword to the outside, next to a bow and quiver Rhiann had brought. There, it wouldn’t hinder the horse and wo
uld leave their hands free for swimming.

  “You’re trusting me too much for a man you’ve only just met, Rhiann.” Cade deliberately didn’t look at her as he cinched the strap around the bags more tightly.

  “Are you a danger to me?”

  Cade finally managed to look at her. Her eyes were watchful. The true answer was yes, but not for the reasons she thought. “No. I would protect you with my life.”

  “Then I am right to trust you, aren’t I?” she said.

  Cade just shook his head, finding her logic impeccable but her closeness nearly unbearable. I could pull her to me, but then where would that leave us? “Follow me. Can you swim?”

  “Of course,” she said, starch in her voice.

  “I was just asking,” Cade said. “Most women don’t know how, you know.”

  “I’m not most women.”

  Cade choked on a laugh, unable to disagree, and then grasped Cadfan’s mane. He pulled the horse down the muddy bank and urged him into the water, making sure Cadfan stayed to his right so the horse wouldn’t knock him over in the current. Rhiann entered the water a few paces behind him.

  The horses didn’t like it, but they didn’t balk. Talking softly, Cade and Rhiann walked them forward. After a dozen yards, the water was up to Cade’s thighs and the current began to tug him into Cadfan. He stayed upright, with his left hand out for balance and his right caught in Cadfan’s mane. It had been a long time since he’d been in water quite as cold as this.

  Soon, the current lifted Cade’s feet as the water rose to his chin, and he was forced to swim. Another few yards and Cadfan too was swimming. He outpaced Cade and rather than hinder him, Cade let go of his mane in order to concentrate on his own survival.

  They were not quite halfway across when Rhiann gasped: “Cade!”

  He looked behind them. Four men on horses rode forward and back on the Anglesey bank. Cade faced the mainland again. “Keep going. We mustn’t stop.”