Shadow Lands Trilogy

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Shadow Lands Trilogy Page 33

by Simon Lister


  Ruadan had hoped to see a difference in Ceinwen’s attitude to Arthur once she had gotten over the shock of what had happened at Branque and after she had spent some time getting to know him once again. He had hoped that being with Arthur, Trevenna and Cei would have re-ignited her old friendships and taken away some of the pain of losing her family but it seemed to him that nothing much had changed; she still seemed distant from Arthur and, while the others in the war band seemed to have accepted her, she still carried about her the impenetrable air of grief that would inevitably keep a barrier between her and her new companions. He understood it a little better when she told him about how Arthur had ended Sawan’s suffering or, as Ceinwen put it, when Arthur had murdered him. He wondered if the events across the Causeway had only served to deepen her despair when he had hoped that an active role with the warriors might have alleviated her personal pain. He knew that Arthur had only done what was necessary and he believed that deep down Ceinwen knew it too. He worried that his sister’s resistance to the brutal necessities of war showed a reluctance to accept what she had lost and an inability or unwillingness to face the reality unfolding around her. He hadn’t contradicted her tirade against Arthur and hoped that time would heal what she was unable to heal herself.

  He glanced across at Arthur’s face as they rode side by side through the darkness and wondered what it took to send your own sister and your oldest friend on a mission that would surely end with their deaths. Ruadan realised that with Merdynn gone as well, Arthur was becoming more isolated and the few who could influence him were now far away. He studied Arthur’s face briefly but he didn’t look like a man who needed support from those around him. There was a set determination in the expressionless face and a distance in the eyes that spoke of the calculations being weighed and judgements decided. Arthur turned to look at him and for a second Ruadan saw a frozen coldness in Arthur’s gray eyes and his heart started in fear, sending slow, deep, resonant echoes through his chest.

  The moment passed and Arthur was asking him a question about the watchers up ahead. As he answered he realised that Arthur was alone and perhaps he had intended it to be so. Perhaps he could only do what had to be done if he was alone. At the same moment he realised that Arthur did not need their support or friendship and did not expect or necessarily want it in return, all he needed was their loyalty.

  The watchers had nothing to report. Arthur stayed for a while at the small fortification that Ruadan had built across this end of the Causeway. He talked to the guards there and briefly told them the news that had been recounted previously at the Gates. One of the guards mentioned that they had not seen the deer herds this year. For many generations the Causeway Gates had been opened as the sun set in the East and thousands of migrating deer patiently crossed the Causeway in their unhurried journey to leave behind the colder lands of the East. It had become an inherited custom to allow the herds unthreatened passage, an unspoken acknowledgement of the mutual threat posed by the long, dark winter. The warriors would watch the spectacle knowing that they would be hunting these very same deer in the months ahead. It made sense to let them cross the Causeway unhindered for if they killed the deer as they crossed then they would eventually abandon the migration west and the hunters would have to go into the Shadow Lands for their hunting expeditions. It also provided them with a self-satisfied sense of honour. The deer had not crossed this year and the guards guessed that the Adren must have slaughtered the unsuspecting herds as they gathered in the forests beyond the Causeway. The warriors were just as outraged by this as they had been about the slaughter at Eald and Branque. Arthur’s mood darkened; the Adren now had a ready supply of meat.

  He climbed up the tower and stood looking out into the winter darkness, staring east and wondering how far Cei’s band had travelled, whether the Adren were still unaware of their goal, indeed whether they were even still alive.

  Ruadan stood beside him and mistakenly thought Arthur was pondering the inevitable Adren onslaught.

  ‘Do you think we can hold them here?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, we have to. It may be the only place where we can,’ Arthur replied after a pause.

  ‘We’ve finished constructing the defences, though we keep adding things as someone comes up with something new.’

  ‘And there’s been no sign of the Adren at all?’

  ‘No, nothing. Not even a raid to test our defences. They must be waiting for the sun.’

  ‘Then we still have two months.’ Arthur looked around at the outpost then continued, ‘I want you to make this the first line of defence. Build up the walls. The marshland protects the flanks here. Once you’ve done that then build another defence between here and the Gates. I don’t want them to gain a yard without dying for it. And always make sure you have the same cutting and bridge system so that each outpost can retreat without being routed.’

  Ruadan nodded and started to mentally calculate the wood they would need and how long it would take.

  ‘I’m going to Caer Sulis to inform the king of what we saw in the Shadow Lands,’ Arthur said.

  ‘I thought he’d gone west,’ Ruadan replied, taken aback.

  ‘We have reason to believe he stayed behind, but we don’t know why yet. Whether he is there or not, those that remain at Caer Sulis must prepare for war. There are those there that we can start to train, and others who can help with the making of war gear.’

  ‘Do you want me to stay here with Hengest and work on the defences?’

  ‘Yes, but I will need to take forty or so warriors with me to Caer Sulis and I’ll need Hengest to represent the Anglians.’

  ‘He’s excellent at organising and engineering the defences,’ Ruadan pointed out.

  Arthur considered this then said, ‘Then I’ll take Elwyn as the Anglian leader, with some of his warriors too.’

  ‘You still expect trouble from King Maldred and his Mercians?’

  ‘Yes, but again I don’t know what kind of trouble to expect.’

  ‘Take a care Arthur. Maldred is a dangerous man who wants you out of the way, and he’s no fool.’

  ‘He may be wise in settling local disputes but I fear that ultimately he is a self-serving fool and one who will lead my people to slaughter.’ With that, Arthur descended the tower and they made their way back to the Causeway Gates where Arthur began to prepare for the journey to Caer Sulis.

  *

  Arthur delayed their departure as most of the forty that were to accompany him had been with him in the East and he wanted them all to have recovered before they began. He waited as the moon waned until his warriors had rested fully, eaten their fill and recounted their stories from the Shadow Lands. Those that were staying at the Causeway looked to the East, thinking of the size of the Adren armies that would swarm across the Causeway once spring came and they knew that they would be first in the defence of Britain. They set about strengthening and adding to the fortifications with a renewed urgency as Arthur led his band up the cliff paths on the beginning of their journey to Caer Sulis.

  Balor had decided to stay at the Causeway and help with the fortifications. Ceinwen had been undecided about staying with Ruadan, which was where she wanted to be, and travelling with the war band where she thought she may be needed. She had a feeling of foreboding about the meeting with the king, a feeling that had been stoked by Ruadan’s observations of Arthur, which he had shared with her. She had broached the subject with Morgund back at the Causeway. Morgund had dismissed the king by commenting that he had not seen Maldred in the Shadow Lands, or his precious warriors there either. She began to suspect that both the Anglian and Wessex war bands were beginning to regard Arthur as more than just the Wessex Warlord. It worried her even more that she suspected Arthur felt much the same. She resigned herself to being more embroiled in the affairs of the southern tribes and chose to accompany Arthur’s band.

  Arthur had set scouting riders out on their flanks, unwilling to make the same mistake that Llud had made, and the
company rode, two or three abreast, across the winter-locked land. They had renewed their winter clothing and they wrapped and belted the furs closely about themselves as they crossed iced snowfields and skirted woods and rivers frozen to a deep stillness under a comfortless moon.

  A few warriors at the rear of the line, led by Cael’s baritone voice, were singing a refrain known widely in the southern lands. It was a winter song, mourning the lifeless land and longing for the sun to re-awaken the trees and rivers and bring back to life the animals and birds that were either sleeping away the darkness or passing the winter far from Middangeard. Although the ballad was doleful, the mood of the warriors was not. They had escaped the Shadow Lands alive when many had thought they wouldn’t survive to meet up again with their companions at the Causeway. Their hopes were high that Cei would be able to ambush the Adren supplies on the East Road and still return safely. With just a small band Arthur had raided the Adren forces arrayed against them, hurt them and brought most of his riders home again. They believed he could stop the Adren and protect their homes. Arthur was not so sure.

  He planned to make the journey to Caer Sulis with only two stops, one above the Winter Wood at Dunraven, where there was now a semi-permanent camp, and one at Whitehorse Hill where he planned to check on the preparations for war. It would make for a long journey between the two stops but the warriors were well rested and none wanted to linger in the cold lands. When they camped near the Winter Wood he intended to visit the Veiled City. Lord Venning would need to hear about the Adren forces massing across the Causeway and about the venture that Merdynn was undertaking. While those reasons were true there were two other more important reasons why he wanted to once again enter the Cithol City. The one he allowed himself to think about was Fin Seren, the other he barely acknowledged even to himself.

  They arrived at the hilltop camp under a cloudless sky and the stars shone coldly on the bare, still trees. Arthur recalled the last time he was here and as Morgund passed him they talked briefly of the storm that had raged about them at this place.

  The silence of the copse was soon broken as they began setting up camp. Arthur walked off to one side and stared up through the snow-lined and frosted branches at the cold, hard stars. The waning moon was a thin crescent above the horizon. He heard Ceinwen walk up beside him. She took her thick woollen cap off her head and ran a hand through her sweat-matted hair. She followed his gaze.

  ‘Beautiful isn’t it?’ she said.

  Arthur nodded.

  ‘But so cold and somehow unforgiving,’ she added.

  Arthur looked at her and for the first time in a long while they smiled with some of the warmth they used to share.

  ‘You’re going down into the Veiled City aren’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, there are some things I must do there,’ he replied.

  ‘And someone you want to see?’

  They smiled again and Arthur turned to go, saying, ‘I’ll be some hours. They can prepare a hot meal and then rest until I return. Do you want to come with me?’

  ‘Oh no, that place scares me more than the Shadow Lands. I’ll stay here thank you. But take a care down there, the Cithol strike me as more than they would wish to appear.’

  Arthur began the descent down the hillside, searching the distant tree line for the path that wound deep into the Winter Wood. Off to his right a brand was lit and waved slowly from side to side. He headed towards it. His heart beat faster when he saw who held the burning brand. His memory had played him false; she was more beautiful than he had remembered. As he approached her she passed the torch to one of her maids who took it and disappeared back down the winding path.

  Fin Seren stood at a gap in the trees clasping a fur cloak closely about her. In the starlight she looked delicate and ephemeral. It seemed to Arthur that the white jewels strung around her neck glinted with the pale light caught from each of the stars in the winter sky. As Arthur struggled through the last of the deep snow she smiled at him and held out her slender white arms towards him. Arthur’s embrace lifted her off her feet. He set her down again and they held each other at arm’s length, one regarding the other.

  ‘So, the Lord of Wessex returns early and safely from the East?’

  ‘I do but many didn’t and some still travel the Shadow Lands. How did you know I was here?’

  ‘The eyesight of your people may be good in the winter-dark but I was born to the winter and can see you from afar.’

  ‘So Terrill saw us coming and sent word to you?’ Arthur said with a grin and Seren laughed.

  ‘Would you allow me no secrets, Arthur?’

  ‘Your secrets are one of the reasons why I love you.’

  ‘Strange though it may seem, I feel precisely the same way.’

  ‘And there’s another reason.’

  ‘Come. Tell me what happened in the East and tell me of the news from Middangeard.’ With that, Seren turned and led him along the path to the Veiled City. Arthur noticed several turnings off their path, dark passageways that twisted away into the woods and he asked Seren where they led.

  ‘False paths, Arthur. Wrong turnings that lead to nowhere or back upon themselves. To find the Veiled City you need a guide. You have a guide, now tell me the tales of the Shadow Lands.’

  Arthur recounted the journey from leaving the Causeway to their return across the sea in the storm. Seren listened patiently, occasionally glancing at his face or tightening her grip on his hand at different parts of the tale. She was saddened by the deaths of each of the warriors and felt despair for the fate of Caja and the other two women. When Arthur had finished they walked on in silence, following the path as the brand carried by Seren’s maid bobbed among the trees ahead of them like a marsh spirit leading them deeper into the darkness.

  Seren walked with her head slightly bowed and the hood of her fur cloak hid her face from Arthur. The faint tracings of her eyebrows were drawn down in a frown as she weighed the news of Merdynn’s departure into the East and how her father might react to that. Under her thick fur cloak her right hand absently turned and twisted the necklace that hung around her throat as her thoughts dwelled on the sheer numbers of the massed Adren armies waiting to cross the Causeway.

  They reached the stone gateway to the Winter Garden and Seren put her concerns to one side for the present. She stepped in front of Arthur and taking his hands said, ‘Let me show you the Winter Garden as it should be seen and for a while we can forget what troubles us.’

  Arthur smiled at her impulsive childlike excitement and sudden change of mood. He found himself comparing the ethereal beauty and contagious enthusiasm of Seren with the hard-eyed distrust of the wild Gwyna. He put the Uathach girl from his mind and together they walked the meandering pathways within the high walled garden. The bright constellations of the winter sky cast the carved bowers in pale, strange imitations of the encroaching woods beyond the walls, and their endless reflections glittered like jewels that had been flung upon the frozen fountains and pools. It was as if the stars themselves had been embedded in the crystalled ice. The sculpted stone horses crashing through a stream were locked in time with the cascading fountains splashing up from about their hooves hanging frozen in an endless moment.

  The Winter Garden held more than just stone sculptures and Seren led Arthur to a pond where a figure, sculpted from ice, stood with outstretched arms. She knelt down by the edge of the deeply frozen pool and pointed up between the figure’s arms. Arthur knelt beside her in the snow and looked in wonder, unable to understand how such beauty could be fashioned from nature. Between the outstretched arms spanned a delicate cobweb like a frosted net and through its intricately circular threads he could see the cloudy rim of the Milky Way pinned with the brightest stars of the heavens.

  ‘I call him the Star Fisher,’ Seren said softly. She was filled with the pleasure of showing Arthur the Winter Garden and delighted in his wonder. She led him to a far bower where her maid had lain deep furs and set two blazing fires.
Heavy curtains hung across the entrance and inside it was warm and private.

  *

  As they lay on the furs the roaring fires warmed them and cast flickering shadows about them. Arthur traced a finger down the side of her slender neck and said quietly, ‘I never knew there could be such beauty.’

  Seren smiled in delight, thinking he meant the Winter Garden and held him tightly against herself. She propped herself up on one elbow and gazed intently into his eyes as if on the brink of saying something irrevocable but Arthur leant across and kissed her. She decided to wait.

  When the fire had burned low, Seren slipped from between the warm covers and began to dress. As Arthur stirred from his slumber she smiled down at him and said, ‘Our time is short and my father will want to hear the news you bring.’

  He rose and got dressed and together they entered the Veiled City. Once again Arthur descended the wide spiral stone steps and took the passage to the Great Hall. They walked side by side, Seren pointing out various areas and where the myriad tunnels led. Arthur was struck by the warmth of the underground passageways and loosened his heavy winter clothing. The Cithol they passed stopped and stared after them, their High Lord’s daughter, the White Star, walking side by side and laughing with the scarred, dishevelled outsider with his tangled long hair and uncut beard and who wore a sword at his side fit for the ancient rulers of Middangeard. Arthur acted as if he was oblivious to their stares and comments and they resented what they took to be his ignorant arrogance.

  They walked down the length of the dim Great Hall and passed to one side of the raised, magnificently carved dais taking the route down to the Summer Lake. They crossed a wide, stone bridge that arched over an underground river that fed into the lake and Arthur stopped to stare once again at the wonder of the underground City. Just beyond the bridge a channel split away from the main river and disappeared into the black opening of a small cave. Arthur asked Seren if that was where their household water was siphoned off. She shook her head but explained no further and Arthur suspected he had found one of things he was looking for. Seren took his hand once more and they looked out on the underground valley.

 

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