The Last Pendragon (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 1)

by Sarah Woodbury

  * * * * *

  Cade didn’t dare let his attention falter, not even for a moment. They were far closer now to Dinas Emrys than to Caernarfon, but they were riding through some of the most rugged country in Wales, and he had a sleeping girl in his arms. Rhiann had fallen asleep behind him, her head resting on his back. When her arms loosened, he’d pulled her in front of him before she could fall off Cadfan’s back.

  Cade supported her against his chest with one arm around her while his other hand held the reins. A stray breeze lifted a lock of her hair and swept it across his face. She smelled so sweet—of faith and innocence—and he longed to stay just as they were: her asleep and him her gallant protector. But it couldn’t last.

  The rain had stopped an hour earlier. They’d finally ridden high enough to rise above the fog that had drifted in to obscure everything beyond a dozen yards on any side. Cade looked west, towards the ocean. He could see nothing but a thick layer of white below them, merging with the gray sea and sky. Good. The Saxons would have returned to their boats.

  Cade had allowed Madoc to ride ahead of him so he could keep an eye on the man. Madoc claimed to have ridden this road in Cadwallon’s company many a time, and more recently with Cadfael. Cade contemplated Madoc’s straight back and soldierly bearing. Madoc’s left hand drifted to the hilt of his sword as if reassuring himself of its presence. Cade was going to have to deal with Madoc when they stopped, which was going to be sooner than he liked. The sun would set in an hour, and Cade couldn’t risk bringing Madoc into Dinas Emrys.

  Slowly they picked their way up one hill, down another, around a third, and up again. Yr Wyddfa (Mt. Snowdon) loomed closer and higher above them with every step, her peaks decorated with snow, even this close to spring.

  Madoc spoke, breaking the long silence between them. “I was there, you know, when Cadfael cut your father down. It was I who delivered word of his death to your mother.”

  Cade focused again on Madoc’s back, thunderstruck, and tried to marshal his thoughts to make a sensible reply. “You told my mother that Cadfael killed my father?” Why does he confess this? To invite my confidence?

  Madoc glanced back, his face completely blank, and then turned forward again. “Of course not. I didn’t see it happen. It didn’t seem anyone did right at the time. I was simply the messenger.”

  As Madoc spoke, Cade let himself fall farther behind. It wasn’t so much what Madoc said that bothered him, but how he said it. Every sentence appeared to have deeper meanings beyond the obvious ones, and his words were accompanied by a sneer, a wink, or a stare Cade couldn’t quite interpret.

  “I didn’t know what Cadfael had done, then. Nobody did. I told your mother that Cadwallon had died, borne to the ground by the Saxon menace. It was only later that the rumors started.” He glanced again at Cade, who nodded.

  “I’ve heard the rumors,” Cade said.

  “Your father, Cadwallon, was as fine a fighter king as Wales has ever seen. He defeated three Saxon kings in his day.” Madoc held up a hand to show the significance of the number.

  “Unfortunately, he couldn’t defeat that last man, who wasn’t even a Saxon,” Cade said.

  “That’s right.”

  “So my mother didn’t know the truth when she married Cadfael?”

  “No, she didn’t,” Madoc said.

  Cade’s foster father had tried to tell him that more than once, the last time not long ago. Cade hadn’t truly believed him. Suddenly, with the reality of Rhiann in his arms, much like the girl his mother must have been at the time, some of the anger and confusion he’d felt towards her all his life eased. It was replaced, just a little, by pity. Cade looked down at Rhiann, her eyes closed in sleep. I had a mother who loved me enough to give me away, and a second one who loved me as much as her own son. Who had Rhiann had? No one. And yet, she’d been strong enough to risk her life for me.

  The horses came around a hill and the path crossed through a small clearing. Cade made an instant decision. “We’ll stop here.”

  “It’s not night yet!” Madoc said.

  Cade shook his head. “Dinas Emrys is still too far away to reach before dark.” He spoke the truth, though not all of it.

  Madoc didn’t argue further, just stared up at the fort that loomed far above them. A ray of light pierced the heavy cloud cover and struck the uppermost tower. Cade moved Cadfan to stand beside Madoc and looked with him.

  Madoc tipped his chin, gesturing at the fort on its hill. “You fly the Dragon banner above the towers. It’s been a long time since anyone has flown that flag in Gwynedd.”

  “It was my father’s flag, and his father’s. Soon the red dragon will fly above all the fortresses in Wales, even Aberffraw.”

  “Long ago, dragons lived beneath Dinas Emrys,” Madoc said, and then began to chant the words of the prophecy. Although the words themselves were reverent, his tone was less so, on the edge of mocking:

  “Two dragons are they

  One red, of our people

  One white, of our enemies,

  Who lord over us from sea to sea.

  But soon one shall come.

  He shall raise us up

  And drive all our enemies away.”

  “So the bards sing of Dinas Emrys,” Cade said, taking the poem as Taliesin had sung it, not in the way Madoc might have meant. “Why do you think it was the first fort I took from Cadfael?”

  “You took it from Cadfael, yet you disbelieve that you are the one foretold in the prophecies?” Madoc said. “Taliesin spoke those words of you.”

  “Taliesin is gone,” Cade said. “He may have come for me once, but he is long dead, and there is no one left to take his place. We fight now without his help, and I am not so full of my own self as to think that any prophecy he may have left was meant for me. I know who I am.” Or what I am.

  Cade had had enough of Madoc. He dismounted, carefully pulling Rhiann down with him. He carried her to a grassy spot to lay her down. She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him.

  “Shush. Sleep.” He kissed her forehead, and she lay back, instantly asleep again. Cade turned to face Madoc, his hands on his hips.

  Madoc dismounted to match him, and they both paused. Madoc tipped his head to one side. “Aahh. I was afraid of this. I thought perhaps you were saving the girl for later, but that isn’t it at all, is it? My help with the Saxons did not convince you of my worth?”

  “You helped yourself to that Saxon, as I recall,” Cade said. “I don’t know how you’ve kept your secret from your fellow men-at-arms.”

  “I am fortunate in that I’ve been allowed to keep my human shape,” Madoc said. “Most men see what they want to see. Nothing more; nothing less.”

  Cade nodded, understanding as only he could. “I’m not most men. How long did you wait before telling Cadfael of my escape?”

  Madoc’s eyes lit with an inner mirth, and he dropped any attempt to lull Cade into complacency. “I gave you a head start.”

  “You have arisen from the Underworld,” Cade said. “I know your kind.”

  “And I know you,” Madoc said.

  Cade tipped his head to one side, finding a small smile hovering at the corner of his lips, despite the danger inherent in this confrontation. “Perhaps. The next move is up to you. I’m not in a killing mood at the moment, so if you wish, I’ll allow you to turn around and walk away. Whatever you do, however, I warn you not to touch the girl.”

  Madoc smiled again, this time like a cat who had just finished a bowl of cream. “That Saxon was most obliging. I don’t need the girl, though she would be tasty. You, on the other hand, look quite thin—even, shall I say, pale?”

  “It’s different for me,” Cade said.

  “Is it? How?”

  Cade pulled his sword from its sheath. It was the first time he’d held it, and a thrill shot through him as he wielded it. Then he felt the power surge within him, so much so he was afraid he couldn’t contain it. He didn’t have time to questio
n how or why, or what had changed in him when he grasped the sword. “I’m not evil.”

  Madoc laughed. “You wouldn’t be, would you, if the prophecies are true. For myself, I gave up thinking in those terms long ago.” He drew his own sword to counter Cade’s.

  Cade raised his sword high, ready to strike, but then a stick cracked in the woods. Madoc and Cade looked at each other, instantly frozen. “Tell me right now if they’re with you,” Cade said.

  “No,” Madoc said. “It’s the Saxons, perhaps?”

  Cade lowered his sword as well as his profile by crouching down. Madoc didn’t bother, sure of his own invincibility. In unison, the two men turned toward the place from which they’d heard the sound come, scanning the trees for whatever or whoever dared to approach them.

  Thwtt.

  An arrow appeared in Madoc’s left shoulder. He staggered to one knee, and Cade dove face down, not willing to risk even the slight damage an arrow could cause him, not with Rhiann to protect.

  “By Cunedda’s arse!” Madoc ripped the arrow from his shoulder and threw himself flat to the ground. “I thought Saxons weren’t archers.”

  Cade didn’t bother to reply. On his stomach, he crept forward. He could sense the fear coursing through the veins of the men ahead of him, drawing him to them like a beacon. He reached the edge of the trees and stopped, listening hard. Very slowly, he stood and then moved on silent feet toward their attackers, who, after all, couldn’t be very far back into the trees if they’d been able to see well enough to shoot at Madoc.

  Cade felt the man before he saw him. He was unmistakably Saxon, evident by the shape of his helmet and his lack of proper armor. His small bow—far smaller than the Welsh longbows—was drawn, but he jerked it from left to right in quick, uneven movements. He was afraid. He had a right to be, although he couldn’t know the full extent of why.

  Cade moved forward, finding that he had never felt the power within him as he did in that moment; that if anyone could see him, they couldn’t help but know it too. The power was difficult to control in the best of times. Holding this sword Rhiann had found for him was like riding an unbroken horse. It worried Cade. Resolved to do without the weapon, he thrust it into his sheath, forcing himself to rein in his power for these last few moments, else he lose control of himself and his surroundings.

  Still turned away, the Saxon never saw him coming. Cade came up behind him and stifled the Saxon’s cry with his right hand whilst wrapping his left arm around his shoulders. The Saxon froze at his touch. Cade closed his eyes, finally allowing the wave to rush through him, as if a waterfall was precipitating from the top of his head and falling through him to his feet. Relief flooded his senses, bringing him almost to the point of tears. He shone from within, power pouring from his fingertips with a white light that Madoc had mistaken for weakness.

  As the Saxon died, Cade’s body strengthened. Madoc had not been wrong that he was hungry—but not for what Madoc hungered. Madoc was a demon from the Underworld, undead and without a soul, feasting on the flesh and blood of humans. Cade possessed the power of the sidhe themselves, even if in the end he was a charlatan, carrying their gift inside him but never becoming one of them. Most of the time, he could control that power, right to the point where it burst from him, overwhelming whatever hapless creature found himself within his grasp.

  Cade stepped back. The man he’d killed stood straight and unmoving, and then slowly toppled over, like a tree falling to earth. He would never move again. With a sigh, Cade turned aside, intending to return to the clearing and kill the remaining Saxons before disposing of Madoc. He’d gone only three steps, however, when he nearly bumped into Rhiann, who stood rooted to the ground much like the Saxon had been, her face whiter than Cade’s. Although Cade was stronger when he released the sidhe-creature within him, at the sight of Rhiann, he pulled the power back inside himself, like suppressing a flame with a quick pinch of his fingers. Even so, it was too late. She had seen him—seen him as he really was.

  Rhiann took a step back, tears coursing down her cheeks. She shook her head. “No, no, no!”

  She stumbled on a hidden root. Cade reached out a hand to stop her from falling, but she shrieked, recovered her balance, and ran from him. He watched her go for half a heartbeat, not that he had one, and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t let her run away. Somehow, he’d have to make her understand.

  Cade took one long stride after her, and then another.

  Chapter Five

  Rhiann

  Rhiann ran from him, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears she couldn’t hear Cade behind her; didn’t know if he was chasing her and almost didn’t care. She skirted the clearing where Madoc battled with two other men, their weapons ringing out, metal on metal, as they clashed. She had run from Madoc initially, having woken at his curse and seen him yank the arrow from his shoulder, his face transfigured into something hideous, something that she’d only imagined in her worst nightmares.

  There were stories, of course. Who hadn’t been riveted by the tales told by older boys, trying to scare the younger ones with monsters and demons, undead creatures who ripped the souls from their prey, even as they devoured their bodies? But they were just stories, all the children knew. Except they weren’t.

  Rhiann couldn’t believe it. She’d seen the power of the gods flowing through Cade, an inner light illuminating him, as he killed that man. Never had she imagined anything like it. Even in the midst of her worst nightmares, she’d never believed those faery stories could be true.

  Cade caught her three steps into the woods on the opposite side of the clearing. His arm clamped around her waist. She drew breath to scream, but he clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her tight against his body.

  “I will not hurt you,” he said.

  Rhiann tried to get her teeth around one of his fingers like she’d done to Dai, but Cade covered her nose as well as her mouth and spoke in her ear again.

  “Don’t do it. You know what I am, but you also know that I have not harmed you up until now. You can trust me.”

  Rhiann fought briefly, reason warring with emotion and losing, and then sagged against him, out of air as he knew she would be. He relaxed his hand. Rhiann took in a shaky breath.

  “I saw what you did.” She turned within the circle of his arm. “I saw what you are!”

  “And you’ve been given a glimpse into the real world in which we live,” Cade said. “The one I fight to save you from seeing every day of my life.”

  “You’re a—” Rhiann stopped, taking in another shaky breath. But Cade’s head was turned from her, looking through the trees to the men still fighting in the clearing. Madoc must have defeated one of his opponents, for only he and one Saxon remained upright. Night had fallen, and all Rhiann could see were dim shapes beyond the trees. In truth, Cade was all she could see. He assaulted her senses, confused them, and forced her to face what couldn’t be true.

  “I’m a ... what?” Cade said, still watching Madoc.

  “You’re a demon,” she said. “One without a soul, an ellyllon.”

  “An elf?” He looked down at her, amusement showing at what she’d called him. “Next thing you’ll be calling me a pixie.” He lifted her chin with one finger and then dropped his hand after only a brief touch as if her skin might burn him. “Are you so sure you know what I am?”

  “You killed that man,” Rhiann said.

  “That I did. And in a most unearthly fashion. Yet, I know, as you do not, that I stand at the crossroads of Annwn. In one direction lie the demons from the Underworld, waiting to loose themselves upon us. On the other are the free people of Wales.”

  Words came back to her, ones that Taliesin had once spoken. The court bard had sung them in her father’s hall, much to Cadfael’s disgust at the time. Rhiann said:

  “Cadwaladr is a spear at the side of his men.

  In the forest, in the field, in the vale, on the hill,

  Cadwaladr is a candle in t
he darkness walking with us.

  Gloriously he will come and the Cymry will rise ...”

  “You are the second person to quote prophecy at me tonight,” Cade said. “I find it no more compelling now than before.”

  Rhiann found herself trembling, and Cade released her. It was so unexpected, she staggered, but he didn’t catch her. He was already turning away. He removed an arrow from the quiver at his back, one of three that remained, and walked out from under the trees. Madoc knelt on the ground, his hands resting on his knees, a sword rammed through his midsection. The sword point stuck out of the leather armor at Madoc’s back. The man Madoc had fought was on the ground, dead.

  Rhiann moved closer, following Cade despite her fears.

  Madoc turned to look as Cade approached. “Help me remove it. It’s at a bloody awkward angle.”

  Cade walked up to him and put his left hand on the handle of the sword. The other still held the arrow, fisted in his right hand. He raised it above his head and said, “No.”

  “My lord!” Madoc’s voiced went high. “I’m one of you!”

  Cade brought the arrow down with terrific force, stabbing Madoc through the heart. “No, you’re not.”

  Madoc gasped and collapsed, falling sideways to the earth. Cade stepped back and then looked over at Rhiann. Like a puppet on strings, she moved towards him out of the trees. At that moment, the clouds parted, and the moon shown brightly down. Cade looked so normal beneath it, as if he were no more than a young man her own age and not the otherworldly creature she’d seen him become. Maybe he was both.

  “Why did you do that?” Rhiann said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “He was a demon, one who was once a man but returned to the land of the living. In the last two years, I’ve sent countless beings like him back to the Underworld.”

  Rhiann’s eyes tracked from Cade’s face, still glowing in the moonlight, to the prone form of Madoc. “Why do you say you are not like him?”

  “I don’t serve Arawn,” Cade said. “I’ve made no bargain with the Underworld.”