The Two Tanists (A Bard Without a Star, Book 2)

by Michael A. Hooten

  “I’m not sure we can avoid it,” Gwydion said. “I’ll call my uncle, but it will take him some time to rouse Gwynedd.”

  “Not as much as you might think,” Bran said. They rode in a quick trot to catch up to Cofach. “Math was concerned about the way things might turn out. He has been warning all the caers to watch for trouble from the south.”

  “It figures,” Gwydion said. “I’ve been so focused on Dyfed, I didn’t even notice.”

  “But does he know we’re in trouble?”

  “Oh, yes,” Gwydion said. “I spoke to the winds already, but have heard nothing in return.”

  “He is probably busy,” Bran said. They came upon Cofach and the heifer moving slowly along. “Is their some magic you can work that would make her faster?”

  “Good question,” Gwydion said. He dismounted and went over to look into the cow’s soulful eyes. He then looked past the eyes and concentrated on what she was, and what she could be. He released the magic slowly, and the heifer’s legs lengthened, her flanks thinned, and her neck and nose grew.

  “By the gods,” whispered Cofach, now holding the bridle of a brown mare.

  Gwydion felt a rush of exhaustion, and would have fallen over but for Bran suddenly supporting him. “It should make her faster,” he said.

  “Yes,” Bran said. “Yes it should.” He helped the Gwydion onto his horse and said, “By your leave, Tanist.”

  Gwydion waved him on, and Bran took charge, moving them all at a much faster pace towards Dyfed.

  A fine steady drizzle set in as they rode, cold and draining. They encountered no more armed men, but shepherds watched them suspiciously as they pounded past. Gwydion listened to all the winds he could, and tried to keep an eye on the road as well. He knew that the Tanist was catching up to them, but he also knew that Gwynedd was being roused, with Math leading forces from the north. Fortunately his strength had returned faster than he could have hoped for, but the race was taxing them all.

  In the end, it was still the heifer that slowed them too much. Even as a mare, she tended to amble more than run, and could not be persuaded to move faster. The men cursed her, but it did not help, and Gwydion began to wonder if they would make it through this adventure alive.

  They crested a low hill and saw the Dyfi River ahead. Gwynedd was on the other side, not that Gwydion thought Kyrnin would stop at the river’s edge. He had been counting on the fact that he wouldn’t. But Bran yelled, “Almost there!” and spurred his horse towards the water.

  Halfway down the hill, they heard a great bellow behind them. Gwydion turned and saw Kyrnin coming over the ridge, whipping his horse with the flat of his naked sword. “Bran!” Gwydion yelled as they entered the water. “Get everyone, including that blasted cow on the other side of the river!”

  Bran hesitated. “What are you going to do?”

  “Meet my destiny,” Gwydion said, drawing his sword, and adjusting his shield. “Math is ahead, bringing the armies of Gwynedd. I’ll hold them here as long as I can.”

  Bran just nodded, and kept the rest of the party moving even as Gwydion stopped and faced his foe. Kyrnin looked like a demon in his headlong flight, and Gwydion felt a great fear wash over him. The icy water lapped at his legs, and he could not feel his toes. He fought back both the cold fear and the cold of the water, and suddenly he had a shift in his sight, where it seemed that all of Dyfed stood upon Kyrnin’s shoulders. He could feel all of Gwynedd on his, and he knew the coming fight would do much to determine the fate of the two cantrefs.

  Kyrnin plunged into the river with a cloud of spray, slowing despite his best efforts. Neither man spoke, but began attacking as soon as they could reach one another. Kyrnin’s first blow felt like a tree falling on him, but Gwydion cleared his mind of emotion and began analyzing each stroke that rained down on him. He caught many on his shield, and tried to counter as best he could. Kyrnin’s advantage in size and weight were difficult to overcome, and Gwydion’s horse began to falter. Sensing weakness, Kyrnin pressed harder. Gwydion tried to move out of reach, and found himself being pushed back towards the Dyfed side of the river. He could see the Dyfedians at the top of the hill, and he knew it would not be long before he had more than Kyrnin to fight.

  He slipped his feet from his stirrups. Without the leverage, he could feel himself slipping off his horse, and Kyrnin pressed forward to finish the fall. Gwydion reached out and stabbed Kyrnin’s mount through the neck, then leaped clear.

  Kyrnin, feeling his horse die, struggled to get free before he fell. Gwydion slapped his own horse on the rump to get him out of the way, and attacked Kyrnin even as he fell into the water. There was a brief moment where it seemed that air and river mixed together. Gwydion could barely breathe, and he struck out at the flailing man in front of him again and again, while avoiding the silver flashing blade that flickered all over the place.

  The two Tanists broke apart, dripping and panting as they faced each other. Gwydion tried to raise his shield, and discovered that he could barely lift it. He could smell his own blood seeping from his shoulder. Kyrnin saw it, and grinned as Gwydion let the shield fall in the water.

  Kyrnin attacked again, and Gwydion began to fall back again, but he had turned so that he was moving closer to Gwynedd, and into deeper water. The river pulled at them, and Gwydion knew he would only have one chance. Kyrnin smelled victory, and pressed forward in a flurry of blows that Gwydion barely fended off.

  His haste made him fearless, and reckless. Kyrnin stepped on a river rock that rolled under his foot, putting him momentarily off balance. Gwydion saw the surprise in his face, and responded quickly. He stepped inside Kyrnin’s guard, and using his shield hand, drew his belt dagger and stabbed it into Kyrnin’s neck.

  Blood sprayed, and Kyrnin tried to gurgle out a curse, but could not. His eyes dimmed as he fell to his knees. Gwydion backed away and watched as he fell forward. The river pulled at the body, hauling it downstream.

  Gwydion looked up and saw Gwillim on the bank, staring at his son floating lifelessly away. A great sob escaped his lips, and the captain beside him said, “Lord? What would you have us do?”

  Gwillim looked at Gwydion, who felt the caution melt away in raw hatred. “Kill them all,” Lord Dyfed said. “Lay waste to Gwynedd, steal their daughters and cattle, and make them pay for the life of my son. And start with that one there.”

  Gwydion raised his sword in futile defiance as the army of Dyfed entered the river. “Uncle,” he said into the winds, “I am perished without you.”

  Behind him, as if in response, a horn sounded. Gwydion whipped around and saw Math in golden armor, his beard tucked into his belt, coming down to the river with hundreds of men spread out behind him and on either side. The Dyfedians saw them and gave a loud war cry, rushing even faster across the river.

  “Fly, nephew!” Math cried. “Fly!”

  Gwydion didn’t understand at first, being more concerned with the warriors almost upon him, but then he saw a carrion crow winging towards the armies, and comprehension dawned. He threw his sword like a spear at the closest Dyfedian, then jumped up and took a raven’s shape. His wounded shoulder made it hard to fly, but he got up and away, and with a cry to his uncle, began his slow, painful way to Caer Don.

  Chapter 7: Consummation

  Gwydion flew along, trying not to think, when he saw a small ragged group down below. He recognized Bran, and dropped lower, landing in front of them and shape shifting back to human form.

  “By the Gods!” Bran said, pulling up hard. “Don’t do that!”

  “I was wondering if I could ride with you a bit,” Gwydion said.

  “I suppose the heifer—mare—whatever would work as a mount,” Bran said. As Gwydion moved towards the animal, he heard the lieutenant gasp. “How bad is your shoulder?”

  “Bad enough I suppose,” Gwydion said.

  Bran had him lying down in a moment, with Dirgan making a fire and Llygad sent for fresh water. Bran pulled back the tunic slowly
, breaking away dried blood and causing fresh blood to seep through. Gil said, “I can’t tell. How bad is it?”

  “He’ll have limited use for a few months,” Bran said, probing gently. He looked at Gwydion’s face, clenched in pain. “You’re damned lucky. And brave, too.”

  “You saw the fight?”

  “I wasn’t going to just leave without knowing your fate,” Bran said. “Math would have killed me.”

  “Math would know if I died,” Gwydion said.

  “But you didn’t,” Gil said. “You killed that bastard instead! It was incredible!”

  Gwydion and Bran shared a look. “I’ve been instructed to take the two of you to Caer Dathyl,” Bran said. “When Math told me that, I never thought you would actually join us, but I guess Math did.”

  Gwydion grunted. The fire helped him, and Bran and Llygad dressed his wound. Gwydion heard them talking about him after everyone had fallen asleep that night. “He’s not really in good shape to travel to Caer Dathyl,” Llygad said.

  “He’s tougher than he looks, obviously,” Bran said.

  “He would be better left at Caer Don to rest.”

  “And if the Dyfedians push that far into the cantref?” Bran asked. “Then what?”

  “Then he gets moved after getting some rest,” Llygad said. “You know I’m right on this one.”

  Gwydion held his breath as Bran considered. “Alright,” he finally conceded. “But I’m leaving you and Dirgan to look after him. I want men I can trust nearby.”

  “And the chieftain?”

  “He goes home to defend his dun,” Bran said. “It’s only right.”

  The next day they arrived at Caer Don, where the small band was warmly welcomed by a few guards. “Where is Tewared?” Bran demanded.

  “He left yesterday to help Math,” said the lead kern, who looked young enough to be Bran’s son. Bran shook his head. “I need to leave the Tanist here. He’s been wounded, and needs to recuperate.”

  “Yessir,” the young kern said with nervous respect.

  “I’m leaving my two lieutenants with him, and they will only follow his commands, is that understood?”

  “Yessir.”

  Bran turned to Gwydion. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Gwydion said. “Don’t forget, I can hear if danger is coming to the Caer, and I can get out.”

  “But will you?” Bran said. “I’m worried about you trying to play the hero, and defending the Caer against an army.”

  “It’s not going to come to that,” Gwydion said. “Math is a great warrior, too. It’s just been a long time since he’s had to prove it.”

  “I suppose,” Bran said.

  “Take Gil to Caer Dathyl,” Gwydion said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Bran gave the young kern another hard look. “I will hear if you are disrespectful to the Tanist, or allow anyone else to disrespect him, and I will be very upset. So upset that I will return to take care of it. Do you understand me?”

  In a very small voice, the kern said, “Yessir.”

  Bran sighed heavily, and gave pulled a Dirgan and Llygad aside for some instructions. Seeing that he wasn’t paying attention, Gil said to Gwydion, “It looks like everything is working out the way you planned.”

  Gwydion smiled bitterly, and tugged at his sling. “Almost.”

  “What are you worried about?” Gil said. “Most of the Caer has left, and we didn’t need to do anything special. You should have all the time you want, at least until Math finishes Gwillim off.”

  “I don’t know,” Gwydion said. “It’s what I planned, but it’s all happening like it was going to whether I planned anything or not…”

  “And now I’m off to see Goewin,” Gil said, oblivious. “Hopefully you’ll have as much luck with Ari as I intend to have with her.”

  Gwydion grabbed his arm. “You be careful. Bran is smarter than you know.”

  “Bran’s going to have his hands full with running Caer Dathyl,” Gil said. “He’s not going to notice me or Goewin.”

  “I hope you’re right. Here he comes.”

  Bran was shaking his head. “I’ve done all I can to make sure you’re taken care of, but I still don’t like it.”

  “I am not a child,” Gwydion said. “I’ll be fine, and able to take charge in a few days.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He grasped Gwydion’s good arm. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” Gwydion watched Bran and Gil mount up and ride out of the gate. When he was sure they were gone, he placed his forehead on the mare’s forehead, and concentrated on her eyes. The world spun for a moment, but the heifer resumed her normal shape while Gwydion sank to the ground.

  “Tanist!” Llygad said, putting an arm around him. “Why did you do that? Bran told you to take it easy!”

  “I’m fine,” Gwydion said. Turning to Cofach, he said, “Chieftain, this fine cow is yours. Thank you for your help.”

  Cofach bowed low. “Thank you, Tanist. I am honored by your gift.”

  “You should go home to your Dun now. You have hidden it well, but I know you are concerned about your people.”

  Cofach smiled. “You know me well, Tanist. But are you sure you’ll be okay here?”

  “It’s my ancestral home, and I have these two fine warriors that have been charged with babysitting me,” Gwydion said.

  “We’re not babysitting you,” Dirgan complained.

  Cofach grinned. “No one is going to believe this story, you know.”

  Gwydion grinned in return. “Just tell it well, or soon people will want you to embellish it.”

  “Tanist,” Llygad said, “will you please come inside and rest now?”

  “Very well.” Turning to Cofach, he said, “May you have luck and many fine calves, Chieftain.”

  “Thank you,” Cofach replied. “May you have a swift recovery.”

  Gwydion allowed Dirgan and Llygad to lead him into the hall, where Mari and Arianrhod met them. “What happened?” Ari demanded.

  “A minor fracas,” Gwydion said.

  “The Tanist is wounded,” Llygad said. “Is a chamber ready for him?”

  “This way,” Mari said.

  Ari stood rooted, and Gwydion said, “I’m fine, really.”

  She said nothing as Mari led them to a warm chamber where Dirgan and Llygad laid him on the bed. “His bandage needs to be changed,” Dirgan said. “Is there a physician available?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Mari said, surprising Gwydion. “Would you two like to get cleaned up while I do this?”

  “We’re to keep an eye on him,” Llygad said.

  “Very understandable,” Mari said. “But I can handle things for an hour or so. Please, the two of you stink of horses and blood.”

  A maidservant came in as the two men left, bringing hot water and clean linen. Together they stripped Gwydion of his mail, padding, and tunic, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. It didn’t make him any more at ease when the maid left.

  Mari washed him, saying nothing. It took all of Gwydion’s self-control not to break the silence, but wanted her to be the first. He tried to catch her eye, but could only see the top of her head as she worked.

  She got to the area around his wound, making him grimace. Her hands were gentle but sure, and she said, “It’s a relatively shallow puncture wound. It didn’t hit anything major or important, but you will be sore for quite some time.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Gwydion said. “Where did you learn to be such a physician?”

  “I’m the younger daughter in a house full of rough and tumble men,” Mari answered. “And I have learned to love it.” She finished washing his wound. “Okay, I’m going to have to stich it up. Do you want anything for the pain?”

  “Just do it,” Gwydion said. He ground his teeth while the needle went in and out a score of times.

  Mari finished it up and knotted the thread. “You handled that better than many
grizzled veterans.”

  Blinking away sweat and tears, Gwydion said, “Thank you.”

  She wound his shoulder in clean linen. “I’ve never seen Ari this anxious before.”

  “What?” Gwydion said.

  “You heard me,” Mari replied. “She’s as giddy as a girl with her first crush, and she’s never giddy.”

  Gwydion studied her face. “Do you disapprove so strongly, then?”

  “Oh, you know,” Mari said. “You and she just are the way you are. What I think will change nothing.”

  “And yet?” Gwydion prompted.

  “And yet I see nothing but grief between you in the end,” Mari blurted, and then blushed. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say anything.”

  Gwydion put his hand over hers. “But you do, because it is the way you are. Have you spoken to Arianrhod about this?”

  Mari shrugged. “She doesn’t listen to me.”

  “Then that is her loss.”

  Dirgan and Llygad returned just then, interrupting whatever response Mari might have made. Instead, she gathered her things and excused herself. Gwydion watched her go, and said, “I think I’d like to sleep now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, Tanist,” Dirgan said. “One of us will be in the outer chamber if you need us.”

  “My thanks,” Gwydion said. When they were gone, he listened to the winds for a bit getting a feel for the way the war was going. His head began to ache, though, and he soon fell asleep.

  Arianrhod came to his room that night, slipping in so quietly that Gwydion almost thought she was a ghost. She wore a robe belted tightly around her, but she moved confidently, sitting at the edge of his bed, near his feet, saying nothing.

  Gwydion said, “I told you the next time I visited it would be different.”

  “That you did,” she said. “Somehow, I didn’t think you meant that you would be wounded.”

  Gwydion studied her for a moment. “You’re afraid that I am too injured to be able to do much.”

  “It had occurred to me,” she said.