The Ways of Winter

by Karen Myers

  There were very few humans in his domain, since none of his ways went to their world. The few he had were taken from Gwyn’s domain, for his research. He’d experimented with breeding here, and verified that the powers always declined with human blood in the mix, usually in the first generation. It satisfied him to have information he could count on, rather than just relying on the writings of scholars. Always better to know for sure, and the fields always needed more workers.

  Still, the Hidden Way that he’d created so long ago was truly gone, and no other explanation seemed to be available.

  I can’t destroy a way. Did the huntsman do that? Was it Cernunnos, riding him? Can I learn it from him or is he just some sort of freak?

  It seemed to be common knowledge there that he sealed the way to Edgewood at the river meadow, the one I built for the ambush on Gwyn. It was a good idea, too, would have worked if the huntsman hadn’t disrupted it. No matter—I may have lost control from the Daear Llosg end at Greenway Court, but when this snow lets up, I’ll go back and close the other end, at least. It bothered him that it was still open, an untidy loose end from the older plan.

  And either the huntsman or Rhodri destroyed the Court Way outside Edgewood’s manor. Lot of good that’ll do them. I just made a new one. That should keep them stirred up. He grinned. Still, we can’t have that going on.

  The Trap Way should close the gate nicely, keep them all corralled up into a single pen at Edgewood. He’d refined the process since the capture of Rhys ab Edern and his consort Eiryth and their retainers twelve years ago. That had been riskier, he’d had to bring the little beast with him all the way to Britain, and it turned out he couldn’t control things well enough to keep his captives alive, though Gwythyr made no complaints.

  This time, he’d try for Rhys’s son, the one he’d missed twelve years ago, and keep him alive, if he could. He’d launched the first step this morning, despite the beast’s odd resistance. Let’s see how they like that. Clean up a loose end and take a hostage to manipulate Gwyn. Scilti would no doubt appreciate someone new to play with.

  No mistakes this time.

  “I think there’ll be at least forty in this party that Thomas Kethin went to fetch,” Gwyn said to Ifor, as they stood outside the main stables at Greenway Court.

  “Where will we put them all?” his steward asked. “The stables are mostly full up, and the barracks are getting crowded.”

  “We’ll take the warehouses nearest the balineum and turn them into impromptu barracks. That way they can use the baths across the lane. Anyone who finds that beneath his dignity for a night or two can look for individual hospitality at dinner.”

  “That would work, especially if we stand the wagons they’ll be bringing right next to the buildings, to minimize the work of loading or unloading.”

  “Better leave them loaded if we can, and tie down covers over them in case of more snow,” Gwyn advised.

  “Very well, my lord, so much for the people. But what about the horses?”

  “The stables are large, if overfull. We’ll tie them in the aisles for now, it’ll have to do.”

  A guard appeared on foot at the gate in the south curtain wall, breathing hard from a run up the cleared but uphill path. Ifor waved an arm to catch his attention and called him over.

  “What news?” Ifor said.

  “Thomas Kethin just rode ahead to meet us at the gate, sir.” The guard paused to take a breath. “He asked me to let you know that he and the huntsman are bringing in two groups at once, one from the Traveler’s Way and one from the inn. I’m to tell you that there are altogether thirty-four fae, thirty-two korrigans, and six lutins, with fourteen wagons, two of which belong to Huw Bongam, and he sent two drivers for them, too. Oh, and there are families and children included.”

  Ifor did a quick estimate. “That’s got to be at least eighty or ninety horses, my lord. We’ll need all the stable hands out just to keep track of them for a day or two.”

  Gwyn said, “Off you go, then. You organize the reception as they come in. Set someone to find Idris for me, and send me our people and the leaders of the travelers’ parties. We’ll set up food and drink in the great hall. And don’t forget those covers for the wagons.”

  George stamped into the entry hall at the back of the manor through the double doors, shedding the snow from his boots. He found Rhian patting herself to make sure everything was in place. He assumed she’d just changed out of kennel clothes into something better suited to Gwyn’s foster-daughter.

  She turned as the rear double-doors thumped open. “Cousin,” she said, “You’re not supposed to be here. Where’s Angharad?”

  “Tell me about it,” he said, wryly. “Not easy to get a honeymoon going.”

  “What’s this group like?”

  “A mixed bag of all sorts. I’ll stick around to help with introductions.”

  She flashed him a look of gratitude. At fourteen, she was young to stand there alone as hostess on her foster-father’s behalf and was glad of the support.

  George took a moment to park his dogs in front of the fire in the hunting room that opened off the back entrance. They’d wait for him there, warm and out of the way.

  The first travelers began to trickle in. Rhian took the lead in greeting them, and George ferried them to the comfort rooms on the side of the entry hall or to the great hall beyond, with its crackling fire and platters of food, depending on their most urgent needs. The three-story cavernous hall was relatively warm with its constant fire, the raised dais at the north end making it clear where the family took its meals.

  When Huw Bongam’s two drivers came in, he pulled them aside.

  “Do you want to try and return tonight, or wait for morning?”

  One looked at the other. “If you can put us up, I think we’d rather do it in full daylight, huntsman.”

  “You could get trapped here, if the snow returns,” he warned them, but they shrugged.

  “Alright, then, but better collect Huw’s blankets now, before stopping for the day,” George said.

  A pile of personal belongings had begun to accumulate in one corner of the great hall, whatever had been carried with them on horseback for those who rode.

  The noise of more than sixty people relaxing and eating filled the lobby as well, conversations rising as everyone warmed up. The sound of children, even crying, was more welcome than silent, shivering faces, George thought.

  He walked into the great hall with Huw’s drivers and raised a hand for attention. “If you borrowed some of the blankets from the inn, please return them to these men here. If you left them in the wagons, tell them so that they can fetch them in the morning.” Privately he said to the drivers, “If you come up short, let me know.”

  “Group leaders, please come with me,” he continued, operating under Ifor’s instructions. “Rhian, you, too,” he said. He walked through the crowd and singled out Maëlys and Cydifor, traveling without leaders, and brought them along with him, ushering the whole group into Gwyn’s council room through the doorway on the other side of the raised dais.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gwyn glanced up from his conversation with his steward Ifor as George brought in the leaders. Idris and Thomas Kethin were already seated around the long table in his council chamber, having delegated most of the tasks of seeing to the travelers to their subordinates. A fire warmed the room behind him, near his desk. Ceridwen walked about the large room while waiting and returned to the table as George came in.

  His foster-daughter Rhian slipped in behind George’s group to take her seat next to Ceridwen. She’s still not certain I won’t revoke the privilege, Gwyn noted with amusement, after I let her start attending these sessions a few weeks ago. George remained standing with his people, waiting for everyone’s notice, and Gwyn took advantage of the moment’s delay to look them over. Three fae, two korrigans, and two lutines. That older fae must be Cadugan, the steward his brother Edern sent for. I hope he’s more useful than he seems,
Gwyn thought, as the fae stood there impatiently waiting for attention.

  He nodded at George to proceed.

  “My lord Gwyn, let me present a few of your guests. This is Cadugan, come at Edern’s invitation to help Rhys at Edgewood.” The fae executed a credible court bow and straightened up stiffly. “He leads a party of some twenty-two fae from Britain.”

  “Next to him is Meilyr, leading eleven from within your domain.” Meilyr made a respectful bow, but without the old world flourishes.

  “I’ve included Cyledr, from your domains, who is traveling by himself, a musician.” Cyledr, much abashed in this company, managed a jerky dip of his head.

  George moved on to the korrigans. “May I present also Tiernoc, leading seventeen of his folk from Britain, and Broch, with fifteen from your own domain.” Both executed similar formal bows, sweeping their hats off at the same time.

  “Finally, this is Mistress Rozenn with a group of five, and Maëlys whom we picked up on the road, all from Annwn.” The two women curtsied.

  George turned to them all and said, “This is my lord Gwyn ap Nudd, Prince of Annwn, whose guests you are. You’ve met Thomas Kethin, his head ranger, and Rhian, his foster-daughter. Here also are Idris, his marshal, Ifor Moel, his steward, and my lady Ceridwen, his scholar and healer.

  Gwyn stood. “Welcome to all of you and thank you for coming. Please find seats. I’m sure you’re weary from your travels, and I’ll try not to keep you long.”

  He reseated himself and waited for them all to settle.

  “Please be assured that we’ll be glad to house and feed you all until you can move on to Edgewood. You won’t be going any further this evening, and the weather controls what will happen next, but the remainder of your journey should be easier.”

  He pointed to the southeast. “Our Guests’ Way entrance is just outside the manor gates you passed through. It will take you to our Eastern Shore estate, and within a couple of miles of easy ground with little snow, you will find the entrance to the Edgewood Way, which exits right at the court. There will be snow at Edgewood, as here—it’s about fifty miles due north of us—but I understand the ground around the buildings has been cleared.”

  Thomas Kethin added, “Those of you who were on borrowed wagons, we’ll be returning those wagons tomorrow but we’ll supply you with substitutes.”

  Cadugan spoke up impatiently. “Can’t we start sooner? I’m eager to begin work after all these delays.”

  Gwyn raised an eyebrow, but Cadugan stood his ground. “Let me suggest that you use this time to meet with your counterparts here and start to forge those alliances you’ll need to be effective.” Cadugan reluctantly nodded.

  “Please let me explain to you what you’ll be joining,” Gwyn said. He leaned back to begin the familiar tale he’d told to two previous bands of travelers.

  “Soon after I removed Annwn to the new world, about 1500 years ago, I granted my exiled sister Creiddylad an estate of her own, to spare her living forever at our father’s court.” The guests nodded their heads; most had heard the tale before.

  “Edgewood had only one way, and I controlled the tokens, of course, so it was easy to keep her confined. She, in retaliation, prevented her own people from using the way, too, and so they were shut off from the rest of my domain. From time to time, she allowed settlers to enter through the way, but no one has returned for a very long time.” Everyone listened attentively.

  “Overland travel was always possible, of course, but we’ve met no settlers from Edgewood outside those lands, and none of the people we’ve sent there to investigate in the last several hundred years has come back.

  “At this most recent Nos Galan Gaeaf, at the end of the year, we held the great hunt with my kinsman and huntsman,” he pointed his chin at George. “For good and sufficient reason, my brother Edern and I renounced our sister afterward and banished her from my domain. Therefore, Edgewood has been free of her for just five weeks after all this time and, as you’ve heard, I’ve appointed my foster-son Rhys, my brother’s grandson, to hold it and began to repair the damage she caused.

  “Before you proceed, you must now hear that we have a newly unveiled enemy, Madog, a way-adept. He holds lands to the west of the mountains and for hundreds of years he has influenced Creiddylad and her doings at Edgewood. We believe she’s with him now. He wishes me and mine no good and he may try to do harm here or at Edgewood—be warned.”

  He cleared his throat. “So much for the past. Let me tell you what we found when we reopened the closed way to Edgewood.” He gestured to his marshal Idris to continue the tale.

  “I’ll just give you a summary since we’re discovering more each day. To begin with, we can find no trace of the lutins or korrigans that we know were there at one time, some as recently as just a few years ago.” This brought a gasp from several at the table. “Let me be clear, we don’t know if they’re dead, hiding, or captive, or even if they’ve somehow left the territory. In the case of the lutins, there’s reason to think they’re in hiding—there are reports of unexplained activities that remind us of the tricks they can play on humans.” Gwyn saw Rozenn smile faintly at that.

  “The fae that are there are… changed in some way. Craft masters have diminished and the levels of skill in all areas have deteriorated. Trade is minimal. The farmers on the outskirts of the land are worse, and there is some sort of barrier surrounding the lands. We don’t understand it, but it’s reminiscent of the barrier that marks the ridge line of the Blue Ridge mountain to our west. If you don’t live locally, you may not understand the comparison; fae and others can’t cross that line without damage or death.” Gwyn noted Cadugan rolling his eyes, but Meilyr nodded thoughtfully. “The barrier at Edgewood wasn’t there when the lands were first given to Creiddylad, and we don’t know when it appeared or how it was made, but it may explain why there have been no known overland crossings in either direction.”

  Gwyn said, “Let me tell you what’s been done in the last five weeks. My brother Edern is serving as Rhys’s chancellor. I’ve provided a marshal, Lleision, and a weapons-master, Morial, from my own staff. I’ve also placed my kinsman Rhodri, a way-adept, on Rhys’s council.

  “At the urging of both Edern and me, Rhys has sent out an invitation to settlers and especially craft-masters to help restart the community. Those of you who will be settling in Edgewood will be holding Rhys as your lord. Some of you are planning only a temporary stay, and that’s acceptable—no one will be required to stay if they wish to leave. That includes the current inhabitants, once we sort out the situation.

  “We’ve also set up a courier service. Every afternoon, a rider bearing messages arrives at both Edgewood and here, one from each direction.” At least, so far. Today’s messenger from Rhys was hours late.

  He paused to refocus his attention. “Would you please, each of you, tell us something about who you’re bringing to Edgewood?”

  To no one’s surprise, Cadugan was the first to step forward. He said, “As you know, Edern has asked me to serve as steward. I would like to meet with you, Ifor, afterward,” bowing to him, “to begin sorting out how the staff I brought with me should be arranged to cause the least disruption.” Ifor nodded.

  “I understand that there are three main villages in Edgewood, so I’ve recruited whatever craft-masters were willing to come without worrying too much about possible duplication.” Gwyn thought that unusually practical for someone of his precise temperament. Perhaps he would prove suitable after all, ballast to Rhys’s youth and inexperience. Edern was usually right about the staff he recommended.

  “Some of our people brought their families, and perhaps they didn’t understand the degree of danger involved. On the other hand, all are eager for an opportunity to prove themselves at a new court. Those vacancies are not easy to find, in the old world.”

  He turned to Ceridwen. “My lady, one of my party is for you, Eluned. I’ll have her seek you out afterward.”

  Meilyr said, “Mos
t of my group met for the first time at the inn. We’ve come from all over your domain, my lord,” nodding to Gwyn, “some as craft-masters, same as Cadugan’s, and several seeking kin lost to us these many hundreds of years. I, myself, am looking for one of my sons. I think more will continue to come in for a while, as the word spreads.”

  Tiernoc leaned over the table to face Gwyn. “Crafts we want, of course—smithies and iron work—but trade especially. Some of us have never traded in the new world at all, shame to them, and others just want a chance to see what opportunities are here. A few of us are miners in the old way, seeking to join our kinsmen, prospecting.

  Broch nodded along and spoke to him, “We welcome you, friend. Let’s meet afterward and discuss mutual ventures here.” Turning to Gwyn, “And a few of us seek family and friends, too. There are many wanting to know what’s happened to them.”

  Rozenn in her turn said, shyly, “Most of us are looking for our families, but some also want new opportunities. Many more wait at home to hear what we find and may come themselves, depending.”

  Gwyn glanced enquiringly at Maëlys, seated next to Rozenn. She said, quietly, “I’m searching for my husband, my lord, gone eighteen years. I’m from down the road, at Iona’s place.”

  The last, Cydifor, gathered his nerve. “I’m from Tredin, my lord. Thought I’d see if your foster-son could use a musician.”

  Gwyn hid his smile. Tredin had perhaps ten families—large families, with a reputation for seeding their children widely all over his domain as soon as they could travel. Small wonder this one was motivated to try his chances elsewhere.

  He rose to end the meeting. “We’ll send you out tomorrow mid-day, weather permitting.”