“You’re right, it’s hard to stay awake,” Llews said. “Do we just stay in these trees?”
“Yes,” Gwydion said. “Your natural instincts will keep you from falling, and—”
Llews eyes were already closed, and his breathing was slow and even. Gwydion smiled to himself. “And I guess I should just heed my own advice now.” He ruffled his feathers a couple of times, realizing that the eagle shape was not as comfortable as the raven shape, but it still only took him a few moments to be deeply asleep.
The Eagle of Finncarn sat atop the highest point of the mountain, watching everything, and occasionally leaning down to rub her beak against the smooth rock at her feet. Gwydion and Llews landed in front of her at a respectful distance, and remained silent, waiting for her to notice them.
The Eagle did not even look at them, but said, “This is not a normal form for you, Gwydion ap Don.”
“I was advised that this shape might be better received than those I normally take,” Gwydion answered.
“Mannanan has much wisdom, despite the face he shows humankind,” the Eagle answered. “And it is a very flattering shape indeed on your son. Welcome, Llews Llaws Gyffes.”
Llews ducked his head. “We come seeking your help,” he said.
“Very direct, like an eagle should be,” The Eagle said. “I’m impressed. What do you require of me, fledgling?”
“My mother has cursed me that I shall never bear any weapons until she arms me herself. We come seeking a way to break this curse.”
The Eagle laughed quietly, a rumble that made the pebbles jump around them. “Your father knows that it is not a matter of breaking the curse, but fulfilling it,” she said.
“True,” Llews answered, “but he has pondered the matter for years now, and cannot think of a solution.”
“I have watched the two of you,” the Eagle said. “You know both the trappings of power, and also its true form, which can be as simple as a small rock falling from a great height. You have proven yourself a worthy bearer of the gifts you’ve been given, Gwydion, and you are teaching your son well.”
“It is always a fear that I am failing at fatherhood,” Gwydion said.
“But you should beware of that fear,” the Eagle chided gently. “Children are not eggs that need constant care and protection, but small beings that need to be nurtured and encouraged to fly. And the truth is, most of them will fly whether they fall from the nest or are shoved.”
“And I am trying to make sure his wings are ready for the flight,” Gwydion said.
“Yes, but look!” the Eagle said. “He is already strong, and getting stronger! Make sure he knows how to use that strength, but do not ignore it!”
Gwydion ducked his head low. “Yes, Wise Mother.”
She ruffled her feathers. “Now to the matter at hand: you want to break the curse, or more appropriately, fulfill it.”
Gwydion shook his head. “I have tried to think of a ruse, but none have come to mind.”
“How well do you know Arianrhod?” the Eagle asked.
“I like to think I know her very well,” Gwydion said. “She is a mirror of the man I used to be.”
“So think of how you used to be, back when you first met her,” the Eagle said. “What stung you more than anything, and made you react even faster?”
Gwydion cocked his head. “You’ve been watching me, you said. What are you thinking of?”
“What got you involved with Arianrhod in the first place?”
“She was a challenge,” Gwydion said.
“And what made you challenge Tanist Kyrnin?”
“He was raiding our border caers, and trying to goad us into war.”
“But you goaded him into it first,” the Eagle said. “What do these things have in common?”
“I wanted to win.”
The Eagle clicked her beak. “Dig deeper.”
Gwydion cast his mind back when Caer Dathyl still stood, and Math still taught him. He thought of the things that set him into motion, and that made him work harder than his uncle ever dreamed he would, and tried to remember how he felt. “They both pricked my pride,” he said quietly.
“Very good,” the Eagle said. “But you need not feel shame, Gwydion. Many men are motivated by pride, and lust, and greed, especially when young and inexperienced.. You have learned from your mistakes, and given up such youthful desires. Arianrhod, however, has not.”
“I used her vanity against her last time,” Gwydion said. “Surely she’s learned.”
“Pride and vanity are somewhat different,” the Eagle said. “Do you think that even if she has become less concerned with her appearance that she is any more humble?”
“I could not imagine Arianrhod humble in any circumstance, even if she were pleading for her life,” Gwydion said. “So I can use her pride against her…”
“It’s one of her weakest points,” the Eagle said. “It may not seem like a very honorable thing to consider in most cases, but there is some justice to it.”
“But what if she curses me again?” Llews said.
“Ah, yes, an excellent question,” the Eagle said. “What have you thought of, Gwydion?”
“I confess, it is my greatest fear, and one that I do not know how to prevent.”
The Eagle turned back to Llews. “And what have you thought of, little one?”
“Me?” said Llews in surprise.
“Do not deny that you have thought of it as well.”
“I have,” Llews said slowly. “But what keeps coming to my mind is that a blessing might counteract a curse.”
“Very good,” the Eagle said. “But the blessing must be in place first, and even then, you cannot prevent everything.”
“Could I bless him that Arianrhod could not curse him?” Gwydion said.
The Eagle turned a bright eye on him. “If only it were that simple. But such a formulation is too vague, and can easily be dodged with a clever turn of words. Think of her hate, and try to be specific. Curses can be broad in their nature, but blessings cannot be.”
“Thank you, wise lady,” Gwydion said, spreading his wings and bowing low to the ground.
Llews followed his father’s example, but said, “Thank you, Mother Eagle.”
The Eagle leaned forward and groomed the feathers around his head. “You are a foster son to me, which is a rare thing in this age.” She breathed on him and said, “Take of my strength, use it well, and return to me one day to tell me of all you have done. I will be watching, but I cannot read your thoughts, and the why of what my children do always interests me greatly.”
“Can my Da come back, too?” Llews said.
“Perhaps, if he would like,” the Eagle said. “But he is a raven at heart, and I would never want him to be otherwise.”
“Neither would I,” Llews said.
Gwydion and Llews flew down from the mountain top and spent the first night in the trees just below the snow line. The next day, they flew the rest of the way down to their camp, returning to human form. Llews said little, and Gwydion did not pressure him. The majesty of the Eagle still clung to him, and Gwydion respected the boy’s need to assimilate it into himself. It wasn’t until dinner of the second day back as a human that Llews asked, “So, how do we use my mom's pride to get her to give me arms?”
“Well, first we have to get back to the sea...”
Chapter 9: Tinkers
Three weeks later, they stood on the shore looking out at the grey sea. “Do we have to go back?” Llews asked.
“Yes, but not yet,” Gwydion said.
“Do we have to find a boat first?”
“Well, that is part of it, but there are some other things I have to do as well.” He sat on a large rock and began drawing a map in the sand with a stick. “This is Caer Sidi,” he said, tapping the small shape. “And over here we have Glencairck, our home.”
“When we can go back,” Llews said.
“It is our home even when we can’t be there,�
� Gwydion said. “That’s what makes it so special. Now, I want you to concentrate. See this? Do you remember what it is?”
“That’s the sea wall,” Llews said. “And that makes that the pier, with the harbor master’s shanty…” His eyes widened. “I see it, da. I see it as clear as when we were standing on it.”
Gwydion nodded. “Very good. Now, we are going to draw a few more shapes out here, like this…” He made a few quick swipes in the sand. “What does it look like?”
“Ships?” Llews said.
“Right. Now describe them.”
Llews concentrated again. “The hulls are black, the sails are black… Even the sailors look like shadows. I can hear the water rushing by, and smell the tar on the lines… Where are they going?”
“To attack the Caer.”
He and Llews watched the drawings move across the sand to the drawing of the caer, where tiny arrows flew each way, until the ships dispersed. Llews asked, “Are the arrows real?”
“The ones from the caer, absolutely,” Gwydion said. The ones from the ship are illusion, just like the ships, except for a tiny ball of baelfire on the end. They explode when they hit, like nothing these men have ever seen, and much more dangerous than simple arrows.”
“How are you doing it?” Llews asked.
Gwydion shrugged. “It’s Cymric magic, but I’m using it in some odd ways. The drawings focus my mind, I create a bridge to the Caer, and cast illusions, with a little baelfire thrown in to make it convincing. It takes a lot out of me, so I won’t be doing it often. But it also makes your mother think that there is someone out there that is targeting her.”
“But you are targeting her,” Llews said.
“Smart boy,” Gwydion said, ruffling his hair. “But she doesn’t know it’s me, or if she does, she won’t know us when we get there.”
“We’re going in disguise?”
“Of course. She’s looking for a young man and a small boy. We’re going to show her a older man and a youth. The best part is that I have to do very little to change either of us.”
They stayed on the beach for two months. Every week or two, Gwydion would draw his pictures on the sand, each time adding a few more ships. Between the magical attacks, they found a boat and readied it for their voyage. Gwydion also began teaching Llews how to repair small vessels and utensils.
The morning that they set sail, Gwydion made one more attack, with nearly twice the ships he had used the first time. It exhausted him, and once they had gotten past the breakers, he showed Llews how to maintain course, then slept for ten solid hours. When he woke, they ate, and then he sailed through the night, singing songs of sailors and fishermen long after his son was asleep.
They came into sight of Caer Sidi on a grey morning a fortnight later. Huwynt met them on the pier, seeing a middle aged man and his son, both in tattered cloaks, patched tunics, and mouse brown hair. He looked them up and down and said, “What is it you're wanting here?”
“My son and I are tinkers, exiled from Glencairck,” Gwydion said. “I'm hoping Lady Arianrhod needs someone who can do small repairs and odd jobs.”
“We have need of many,” Huwynt said. “Do you know how to draw a sword or shoot an arrow?”
“I have been forbidden to carry arms,” Gwydion said.
“What did you do for both exile and disarmament?”
“I killed the Ard Righ’s chief huntsman.”
“The Ard Righ, you say?” Huwynt mused. “Milady might be interested in letting you stay. And we are outside of Glencairck, so your punishment need not affect you here.”
“That would be welcome news,” Gwydion said. “We have been driven from every other caer, and I’m not sure this boat will even get us back to the mainland.”
“I can almost guarantee it,” Huwynt said. “Take a look.”
Gwydion looked back to see the currach half full of water. He swore, jumped in, and began tossing packs up to Llews, who caught them and stacked them on the pier. The water was up to his thighs by the time he finished, and Huwynt gave him a hand climbing back out. The three of them stood and watched the boat sink below the surface until they could just make out its outline in the dark water.
“You’d better hope milady accepts you,” the harbor master said. “It’s a long swim back to the mainland if she doesn’t.”
As Huwynt led them from the pier, Gwydion noticed that the makeshift market on the strand was gone. The attitude of the guards had changed as well; they simply nodded them through to the courtyard without any questions or concerns. Their entrance was not unnoticed, however; a steward ran up to them and said, “Who’s this, Huwynt?”
“Tinkers, exiled from the mainland,” the harbor master replied. “I want milady to meet them if possible. I think she’ll be interested in their story.”
“If they are any good at their trade, milady might not have a choice but to accept them or face an uprising,” the steward said. “But I’ll send the message up, and we’ll see what happens.”
Gwydion and Llews waited in the courtyard, chatting with a few of the kerns. The smith came out before anyone else and said, “I hear you're a tinker.”
“That I am,” Gwydion replied.
“I'm Wendon ap Morris, the smith for the caer. Right now I do all the repair work around here, and it interferes with my other duties. Can you mend a pot?”
“I can,” Gwydion said.
“How about a cup?”
“I can.”
“A fork?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Wendon tapped his chin. “Do you do anything else?”
“In metal?” Gwydion said. “No. But I can do small fixes in leather, carpentry, and stone work, as long as the damage isn't serious.”
“Well, we can keep you busy,” the smith said.
“Many thanks, Smith Wendon.”
“Thank me later, after you’ve been working for days on end without a break,” Wendon said.
“Can I ask what’s going on?” Gwydion said. “I seems like the whole caer is awaiting a siege.”
“That’s exactly what we’re waiting on,” Wendon replied. “Milady has been under attack by the great Wizard Gwydion, and his forces grow stronger in each wave.”
Gwydion blanched. “I’m not sure I want to stay,” he said.
The smith barked out a laugh. “From what I hear, you don’t really have a choice. Although if Milady dislikes you, I suppose you’ll be leaving one way or another.”
“That’s right, Wendon,” Arianrhod said, catching both men unawares. “And I have very discriminating tastes.”
Gwydion caught his breath at the sight of her, and nudged Llews into a hasty bow. “My lady,” he said without looking up. “I offer my skills as a tinker.”
“Do you?” she asked. Gwydion could only see her toe tapping, but imagined that she was thoroughly considering who he might be and where he came from. “Why did you kill the King’s huntsman?”
“I thought that I should kill a deer in the Ard Righ’s forest to feed my family, and he thought my family should starve. It seems that he has been more successful in his view than I in mine.”
“And how old is your son?”
“Thirteen next Samhain,” Gwydion said.
“And you can obviously handle a weapon,” Arianrhod said. “What about the boy?”
“He has been forbidden, just like I have, by the Ard Righ.”
Arianrhod barked out a short laugh. “Fergus has no sway here,” she said. “I have need of your service, and I may need you to help to defend the caer. Can you do that?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Then get to work,” she said. “The smith will get you started.”
Wendon bowed and said, “That I will. I have a pile of pans that need to be mended, and you can start now. Show me your work on the first few, and if it’s satisfactory, I will let you be. Otherwise, I’ll beat you around the head until it is up to my standards.”
“Yes, Smith Wendon,�
� Gwydion answered, but he was watching Arianrhod walk away.
The smith followed his eyes. “And don’t even think about Lady Arianrhod. She’ll rip your heart out faster than you can blink, and I mean it. I saw her do it once, and the man was dead before he fell over.”
“Yes, Smith Wendon,” Gwydion said. He gestured to Llews, and the two of them took their tools over to the pile of battered pots Wendon pointed out. He looked at the first few repairs they made, and then left them alone.
They worked from sun up to sunset every day for the next week, speaking only to Wendon and a few of the other servants. Food was gruel and water, neither being very plentiful, but Gwydion didn’t see anyone getting anything else. They slept on pallets near the forge, grateful for the warmth since no one could spare any blankets for them, and soon got used to the smell of charcoal and the feel of ash.
One night after Wendon banked the fire for the night, he said, “There should be a supply ship coming tomorrow.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Gwydion asked.
“It’s hard to say,” Wendon answered. “We haven’t been attacked in a bit, and everyone is on edge. If the supply boat gets here without a hitch, we’ll be okay, but if something happens to it…” He shook his head.
“I’m sure it will make it safely,” Gwydion said.
“We’ll see,” the smith said, and bade them goodnight.
As soon as they were alone, Llews said, “Tomorrow, Da?”
“Aye, son. Tomorrow.” He hugged his boy tight and said, “We have one thing to do before I start the attack.”
“What’s that?”
“I want to give you a blessing.”
He had Llews kneel before him, and he placed his hands on the boy’s head. Closing his eyes he said, “Llews Llaw Gyffes, in the name of the Creator, and by the authority of the Three Queens of Glencairck, I bless you…”
Images and emotions filled him suddenly, along with the calm assurance that he had felt in the presence of Ogmah, god of the bards. His voice shook a bit as he continued. “I bless you that you cannot be killed by mortal man during the day or the night, neither indoors nor outdoors, neither riding nor walking, not clothed and not naked, nor by any weapon except a spear made with a single hammer blow every day for a year and a day. You shall grow strong and sure, and you shall be a great leader and a great man. May your days be long and your sorrow short in this world.”
The Curses of Arianrhod (A Bard Without a Star Book 4) Page 9