Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  ‘Look!’ Ethain screamed at Arthur pointing with his staff to the destruction of the Haven, ‘I know you’re half-blind but trust me, we’ve lost! There’s ten thousand Adren and thousands of our own dead right there if you don’t believe me! Lost! Everyone else is dead and now you’ll pitch what’s left at an army? Mad! Lost! Lost! Lost!’ He paced back and forth, stamping in the water and mud, no longer even addressing himself to Arthur, ‘It’s time to give up. Yes. Run, hide, survive. Better a hunted dog than a dead dog. Survive, run, hide! Now, before it’s too late!’

  The others either looked at him with pity or turned to hide the shame they felt; madness they felt, however understandable, humiliated everyone.

  ‘Ethain. Calm yourself lad, think back to Cei and Aelfhelm, Cerdic and Cuthwin – they’d have wanted us to fight on to the end, they did,’ Hengest said gently.

  Ethain laughed shrilly and it unnerved many of the warriors who began to think he must have become possessed.

  ‘Cei? Another madman! Another one unafraid of everyone else dying for his cause. Cei? He’s dead! Dead, dead, dead! The others? They’re dead too! They can’t tell me anything. Why? Because they’re dead! They aren’t saying anything to anyone. The dead don’t talk! They can’t talk!’

  He laughed again and Hengest took one stride to him and punched him in the face as hard as he could. Ethain flopped backwards and landed with a splash in the mud.

  ‘We’ll leave him for the Adren. Where do we head to from here, Arthur?’ Hengest said, ignoring Ethain who lay staring up into the rain silently mouthing words through a bloody mouth.

  ‘We’ll make for the Estuary where the river meets the sea. Laethrig’s prepared a longboat for us there.’

  ‘Then we better get moving,’ Balor said pointing to the hill above the Haven where Lazure was beginning to organise his army. His shadow guard were already heading towards them.

  They turned the spent horses loose and Arthur led the surviving warriors off along the Westway. Ceinwen grabbed Balor’s arm as he passed, ‘Help me lift him up,’ she said, nodding towards Ethain.

  ‘Let the bastard rot here. I don’t reckon anything he said about the Shadow Lands was true. Look at him! Leave him for the Adren,’ he replied, shaking his arm free of her grip and striding off.

  Ceinwen looked at the wretched figure and bent down to help him to his feet. He stood unsteadily and threw an arm around her shoulder saying, ‘We’ve got to get away somehow. We’ll die like the others if we don’t. I know a hiding place, a cave, it’s a good cave, I’ve spent some time there, you’ll like it...’

  Everything about him revolted her but at one time he had been a friend so Ceinwen let him ramble and she struggled on to catch up with those ahead.

  A cry alerted her and she glanced backwards, the wind whipping her hair across her eyes. The Adren were beginning to form up outside the town and an advance guard were already on the Westway. She looked to the sloping hill and through the curtains of rain she saw that Lazure’s warriors were on an intercept course with them. She urged Ethain to hurry and when she finally got through to him that the Adren were only a mile behind he picked up the pace and was able to walk unaided. They caught up with the others who avoided even looking at the young Wessex warrior. They were covering the ground at a shambling run, some fighting the mud of the track-way others splashing through the ankle-deep water that stood in the fields to either side.

  ‘How far is it to the river?’ Balor asked her when she jogged up alongside him.

  Ceinwen thought back to the race to get to the Haven and tried to picture how far they had to go. ‘I think Arthur said the longboat was near the mouth of the river, we cut across further upstream, not sure – two, three miles to the Estuary?’ she panted in reply.

  Balor grimaced in reply. Everything he wore was soaked through and had been for days. He didn’t remember when he had last slept or eaten and the thought of running for another three miles across this terrain sapped his resolve. ‘Can’t we just fight them here? I’ll be, too bloody tired, to fight them later,’ he said between laboured breaths.

  ‘Tell Arthur!’

  ‘I would if I could catch the bastard.’

  Ceinwen laughed again then wondered how she could laugh at such a time but she wasn’t alone it seemed; all around her others were cursing and laughing. Somehow the fear of death and the bitterness of defeat had been erased by the hope that they might yet escape and fight again; and win. She worried briefly for their sanity and then automatically checked to see if Ethain was still with them. He was doggedly bringing up the rear.

  The land steadily rose for the last mile to the bank of the Estuary and by the time they reached it they were exhausted. They sank to their knees in the sodden grass or collapsed against the stunted trees that grew along the bank.

  Arthur stood in the open and looked back. It seemed that Lazure had mobilised his whole army to ensure the warriors that had fought and cost him so dear would not escape again. His standards flew at the head of the following horde and Arthur wondered if he was in the vanguard. He toyed with the idea of lying in wait then charging forward in an attempt to kill the Adren Master but discarded it quickly as too unsure. He laughed at the absurdity of his dismissal; what he planned to do made the charge seem a guaranteed surety. The others grinned to each other at his laugh.

  ‘Pity we haven’t got a Wessex Horse to raise in the bastards’ faces,’ Balor said, watching the advancing Adren.

  ‘Rather have the Anglian longboat!’ Hengest answered.

  ‘You straw-heads and your small boats, it ain’t natural. What we need is the dragon flag here,’ one of the Mercians countered.

  ‘Look!’ Ethain shouted, pointing out to sea.

  The others stared through the mist of rain and cheered.

  Arthur looked to Ceinwen for an explanation.

  ‘It must be the last of the tall ships that got away. It’s still on its landward tack, someone said they had to come this way first because of the gale. I hope those bastards following us see it and know that it’s not over, they didn’t get us and that we’ll return one day.’

  ‘There’s the longboat!’ someone else cried pointing down to the Estuary flats just before a denser curtain of rain obscured the view.

  Everyone set off again, slipping and sliding down the treacherously steep bank careless of the danger in their haste to get to the mud flats. Ceinwen and Arthur were the last to start the descent.

  ‘It’s on the wrong side, Arthur.’

  Arthur just took a last look toward the Adren.

  ‘Arthur, the longboat’s on the other side of the river. How are we going to cross to it?’

  Arthur looked into her eyes but did not reply. She stared after him as he clambered down the slope desperate to believe her faith in him was not utterly misplaced. She looked out over the mud and sand of the Estuary. She could no longer see the river but guessed it was another two or three miles away. She suddenly felt certain that Arthur had led them here for no other purpose than to die in a final futile stand.

  She fell the last ten yards, tumbling through the reeds and landing painfully on the hard-packed grey mud. Arthur was there offering his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She tested her ankle to see if it would hold her weight, ‘You’re a bastard to give us hope,’ she said as they set off after the others who were once again running to put distance between them and their pursuers.

  ‘The hope’s real. It will unfold either as you think or as I hope. We’ll know soon enough.’

  The running was hard on exhausted legs. Despite the frequent and sometimes deep covering of water the rippled grey mud underneath was as solid as stone and each step jarred their aching joints but a glance backwards showed the Adren already at the bank and so they pushed themselves onwards.

  Lissa was the first to reach the edge of the estuary river. The longboat could clearly be seen on the far bank sitting on a low cradle that positioned it levelly with its high prow pointing towards
the open sea only a few hundred yards away. Even over the roaring wind he could hear the waves as they crashed against the steep-banked beach. The rain hurtled across the flats and mixed with the spray that was driven from the sea in endless horizontal sheets. Despite the turbulent seas he was confident he could get the boat to open water with Hengest’s help, and with everyone else on the oars, but first he had to get to the boat and he cast about the flat bank of the river looking for whatever had been left to assist them. The rest of the warriors began to join him in one’s and two’s as they covered the flat expanse.

  ‘How do we get across?’ Gereint shouted to him.

  ‘I don’t know – they must have left some kind or rope-rail or something but I can’t find it!’

  ‘Why’s it on the other side?’ Gereint shouted.

  Lissa shrugged in exasperation, ‘How should I know? Maybe they thought the Adren would be close behind, we’d cross whatever bridge they left or swim our horses across and leave the Adren on this bank? I don’t know!’

  ‘That’s no bloody good to us if we can’t get across!’

  ‘I know that!’ Lissa shouted back at him angrily.

  Arthur and Ceinwen brought up the rear and Lissa turned to him, ‘There’s no rope-rail, no barge to get us across!’

  Arthur went to the river’s edge. It was two to three hundred yards across to the other side and the heaving river was racing to the sea.

  ‘No one could swim that! Impossible! You’d be carried out to sea in seconds!’ Lissa said thinking Arthur might try to swim across.

  ‘If we had horses we might make it but we’d have to go upstream some,’ Gereint said.

  ‘We haven’t got any bloody horses!’ Lissa shouted back. Arthur looked back to the high Estuary bank and others followed his gaze.

  It was swarming with the Adren. They stretched along the slopes for a mile or more and the vanguard of the army was already cutting across diagonally and to landward; even if they tried to race back along this side of the river the Adren would cut them off within a mile. They were trapped between the river, the sea and the Adren army.

  Ethain sank to his knees and started to cry, the sobs racking his body, but the sound was lost in the wailing wind. Most of the warriors turned to face the still distant but encompassing Adren, accepting that there was no way to get to the longboat and readying their weapons in silence.

  Lissa turned to Arthur, ‘I’m going to try.’

  ‘You won’t get across, not even a horse could swim that.’

  ‘I’ll go upstream a few hundred yards and hope the current will carry me to the far bank before it carries me out to sea.’

  ‘And then what?’ Hengest asked him.

  ‘Maybe there’s rope on board the boat.’

  ‘And if there is?’

  Lissa shrugged, ‘Tie one end to the boat, swim back and then at least we’d have a rope-rail,’ he shrugged again to acknowledge it was only a slim possibility.

  ‘You don’t have a chance, Lissa,’ Hengest said trying to dissuade him.

  ‘There’s not much chance anyway, is there?’ he asked with a look towards the Adren. They too had seen the boat and were covering the distance quickly, intent on denying the Britons any chance of getting away from them again.

  Everyone bar Ethain watched as Lissa ran back down the river. He dived in three hundred yards upstream and the Britons roared out their encouragement even though the wind and crashing surf drowned any noise they could make. It seemed he was making good headway at first but by the time he neared the middle of the river he was already level with their position and then the current took him under. The shouting died and they saw him surface a hundred yards further on as he was borne helplessly to the swirling chaos where the river met the sea.

  No one said a word. They turned to face the Adren who had stopped their advance half a mile away. They were no longer in a hurry as it was clear the Britons had no way to cross the torrent at their backs. Their ranks filled the flats as they spread out in an arc denying the Britons any escape route. Lazure had spread the word among them that they had the Briton’s leader at bay at last and that he wanted his own guard to slay him and those around him.

  ‘What are they waiting for?’ one of the legion asked but no one answered him. The levity they had felt during the chase from the Haven had evaporated. Their high-spirited confidence had given way to the cold certainty that they would soon die on the windswept flats of the Estuary.

  ‘Anyone got any food?’ Balor asked to a few short laughs, ‘No, I’m serious, I hate fighting on an empty gut.’

  ‘You sound like Cael,’ Ceinwen replied.

  ‘He would have had some food with him for emergencies like this. Sensible lad.’

  They watched as the ranks of Adren parted to let through a new group.

  ‘Who’s that?’ one of the Anglians asked.

  ‘That’ll be Lazure and his personal guard – the lot who took down Gwyna’s Uathach. Well, Uathach are one thing but we’re another altogether. They’re in for a bloody surprise,’ Gereint said, hefting his sword.

  ‘No, not there, over by the longboat. Who’s that on horseback?’ the same Anglian asked.

  Everyone turned to see what the Anglian warrior was talking about and they all saw the figure on horseback, arms waving frantically trying to get their attention.

  ‘It’s Morveren!’ Ceinwen shouted.

  ‘Tell her to check the boat for rope!’ Hengest shouted.

  ‘How?’

  Hengest moved to one side and began an exaggerated mime for coiling a rope, throwing it and reeling it back in. The rider on the far bank had stopped by the very edge of the swirling river, the horse obviously reluctant to enter the fearsome current. Hengest continued his actions and others pointed toward the longboat.

  Morveren appeared to understand what they wanted and hauled herself up the side of the boat. She disappeared from view for a minute and the warriors checked to see how near Lazure’s shadow guard were; they were much nearer and closing the remaining distance rapidly.

  Morveren came back into view and holding her hands apart she drew them closer together and shook her head; there was rope but nothing long enough to cover the breadth of the river. The warriors cursed.

  ‘Is there any way she can launch the boat by herself?’ Arthur asked Hengest.

  ‘No, it’d take three or four people and each stronger than her. Even if she did she’d never get to it to this side of the bank – she’d need double that number to row it across this river.’

  ‘Can’t she swim her horse across with what rope there is and we’ll take our chances hanging on for the return journey?’ Dystran asked.

  ‘Her horse will be exhausted. It’d never make the journey once let alone twice and with us dragging it down there’d be no chance,’ Ceinwen replied.

  ‘Is there nothing she can do?’ Gereint asked in desperation.

  Clearly Morveren felt the same way. She was coaxing her agitated horse into the eddying water but the horse knew it was unable to cross and refused to enter the deeper swells.

  ‘She can save herself,’ Ceinwen said.

  Arthur moved right to the water’s edge and waved his sword above his head. Morveren saw him and steadied her mount. Arthur pointed back the way she had come but she stayed where she was. Arthur gestured again, pointing with his sword, telling her to leave the Estuary and to leave them.

  Morveren hung her head and hauled on the reins turning the thankful horse back out of the water. When she was out of the shallows she turned to look at the band of warriors, so desperately few against the backdrop of the Adren army that seemed to fill that side of the Estuary valley. She recognised Ceinwen and Balor and forced herself to return their waves. There was a figure kneeling by the edge of the river but she couldn’t make out who it was. Morgund was not with them, she was sure of that; he must have died in whatever battle took place at the Haven. She felt empty and lost, unable to help her friends and unwilling to leave them
. She watched Arthur who stood facing her on the far bank and she raised a hand in a final farewell to him and then, with tears in her eyes, she turned and rode away from the Britons’ last stand.

  They watched her until she was lost from sight in the driving rain and flying spray.

  ‘At least she got away,’ Ceinwen said, feeling glad for her. Balor agreed and Morveren’s escape from the Adren lifted all their spirits.

  Resigned to their fate the warriors formed up in a loose phalanx with their backs to the river, ready to fight to the end and resolved to kill as many of Lazure’s guard as they could. Ethain remained on his knees, rocking back and forth and no longer aware of his surroundings; he hadn’t even been aware of Morveren on the far bank.

  Arthur moved to the fore of the phalanx as Lazure’s warriors closed to within fifty-feet. He stood with his sword held ready in one hand and faced the enemy. The wind buffeted them and the icy rain slanted across the ground between the two groups as they waited.

  The Adren ranks parted and Lazure walked towards the Britons with his Cithol guard flanking and following him. He stopped five yards in front of Arthur.

  ‘How bitter is your defeat, Arthur of the Britons? Your land laid waste. Your people slaughtered or in exile. And those in exile I’ll hunt down and slaughter too. Tell me, how bitter is your defeat?’

  The warriors felt the power behind his words and had to fight the overwhelming and sudden urge to throw down their weapons and plead for mercy.

  ‘Merdynn told me all about you, old man. I know your history and who you are. And I know who you serve. But tell me, why did you come to my land?’

  ‘All lands are my Master’s and all within those lands belong to my Master. Merdynn was a fool to resist us and now he’s dead. You were a fool to resist us and now you’ll die too. You should have left the Veiled City for me.’

  ‘It was a mistake for you to come to my land,’ Arthur replied calmly.

  The old man raised his staff and pointed it at the warriors, ‘KNEEL!’ he commanded in a voice that drowned the wind and sea.