by Troy A Hill
Their report finished, Emlyn and Sawyl excused themselves to get some rest. Meanwhile, the people of the caer began to enter for the evening meal. The stable hands were among the first in line. I spied Mikkel, the former Guilder, along with Parry at the food table. The gossipy, talkative young man helped Mikkel get his dinner, since his arm was still splinted and tied in a sling across his chest. Mikkel, laughing at Parry’s banter, gave every impression of having settled in nicely at the caer. I scowled my disapproval.
“You look like you don’t trust our new man,” Cadoc said.
“I never trust Guilders,” I said.
“I’ve talked with the stable master and spent some time with Mikkel,” Cadoc said. “He’s good with horses and has a calming presence around them. I liked his appraisals of the horses we keep here. He understood their personalities and strengths even though he’s only been here a few days.”
I shrugged. I still couldn’t trust a Guilder.
“Mikkel will be an asset for Penllyn once he heals that arm,” Cadoc added. “Stable Master Rees is up in years and knows he needs to search for a suitable replacement.”
I shot a glare at Cadoc. “He isn’t considering Mikkel?”
“He said he’ll keep a close watch on him.”
“He’s indentured for his crimes.”
Cadoc blinked. “He regrets his switch of alliance to the Guilders. He’s repented for his part in their ill deeds. Besides, Mikkel has the same connection with the animals as Rees. He’s a natural fit for the position.”
Renegade? He’s switched alliances once before. I thought back to my dream. The silver pawn, turning red and striking out at me. Only one person in the Caer had connections with the Witch Hunters. And the Witch Hunters were no friends of the goddess. Could they be the unknown players seeking to foil her in the game she played? Was Mikkel a plant by the guild? Or was the Guild itself just a cover for some other enemy? I blinked and tried to dispel my thoughts. I was seeing conspiracies under every table. We didn’t even know who the enemies of The Lady were.
“We do not always make the best choices in life,” Bleddyn said, his green-grey eyes on me. “Sometimes we choose unwisely and pay the price. We must give Mikkel the time we have agreed—a year’s servitude. He will prove himself either a friend or a foe.”
I frowned. “What if a year is too late?”
“Treat him fairly, that is what I ask of each person in Penllyn,” Bleddyn said.
I sighed. They had done that for me. I could do the same for Mikkel. I just prayed we weren’t all playing the fool.
That evening we gathered again upstairs and watched Seren coax Bleddyn’s wounds to heal. Emlyn had gone to an early bed but had promised to meet me after midnight on the weapons field.
“You were suspicious tonight,” Rhian said. “Not only of Mikkel. You also asked Emlyn about being followed.” She left the statement hang.
“I took a nap today,” I said.
“You dreamed again?” Gwen asked.
Rhian cocked her head, a question unspoken on her lips.
“When I sleep, I don't dream. I’m just… well… dead. But with this connection to the goddess, I’m… able to see what goes on around me.”
“Anywhere?” Rhian asked.
“I don’t have control,” I said. “I drift. The last time it happened was after the wedding. I saw Emlyn deliver my blade and sword clothes, and you showing Gwen our cottage here.” And more, but I didn’t want to mention the other, more personal, activities I had observed. Intimacies best left undescribed. Cadoc and Enid, some townsfolk, even some nobles were engaged in activities best left unsaid.
Rhian’s eyes lingered on mine. Had she sensed something that day? The day she and Nesta, Lady Meirionnydd, were together?
“The Lady was sending you messages. What did you see this time?” Gwen asked.
I told them what I could remember: the eyes that observed Emlyn, the shadow that followed Ruadh on his run through the forest. I described the Gwyddbwyll board, with both pawns and larger figures.
“Those are not the normal pieces,” Bleddyn said. “Queens don’t exist in the game. Only kings and pawns.”
I shrugged. The goddess had not explained the game to me. Nor why it had changed. I knew only what I saw. “I had a similar dream while Gwen helped me recover from my capture and torture at the hands of the Witch Hunters.”
They listened as I described that dream. Bleddyn whistled at the end of the tale.
“With larger pieces on the other side?” he asked.
“Pawns, and a few larger pieces. All had weapons.”
“What do those larger pieces represent?” Bleddyn wondered. “Fadog might be one… I suspect he is.” Bleddyn winced once as Seren continued her passes along his wounds. “That still tickles and hurts at the same time.”
“Almost finished for tonight, father,” she said. She made two more passes on the uppermost gash. “There. All but two of them are nothing but scars. I should be able to get the last two closed in another night or two. I need to get these stitches out. No need for them anymore. Hand me those shears so I can cut the threads,” she said to Gwen.
“The herb woman was most impressed with how fast I’ve healed,” he said and winced as she plucked the first thread from his flesh. “Until my lady wife told her that Gwen had prayed for The Lady’s blessing.” He winked at his daughter. “We didn’t tell her that the lady in question was you.”
“The Holy Lady’s magic is what I’ve used. Be sure to credit her,” Seren said, before she kissed his cheek. She had him sit so she and Gwen could re-wrap the bandages.
“You didn’t finish your story,” Bleddyn said. “You've left something unsaid about the game board.”
“You are as perceptive as Rhian,” I laughed.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Bleddyn said. “That’s how I know what is really going on in this cantref. But your story…”
I told them of how the pawn behind me changed from silver to red as the battle brewed. This got an even longer whistle from Lord Penllyn.
“Was there any indication in your dream of who the pawn could be?”
“None,” I said. “No features at all, like the other pawns.”
“So, we cannot be sure Mikkel is the pawn,” he said, “as you apparently suspect.”
“He was allied with the Guild.”
“The Guild is one enemy,” Bleddyn said. “But do we know they’re the ones opposed to the Holy Lady’s plans? That they are the unknown players on the opposite side of the board? Why would they be?”
“He’s a good candidate,” I insisted.
“But not the only one,” Rhian interjected. “It could be anyone in the entire cantref, for all we know. A tradesman or a villager? We have merchants that visit from time to time. What of our new recruits—Tomi, the fiery one? We know nothing of him, or of the rest. Or even Ilar our bard?” I knew now she was stretching the possible connection to make a point. “He should be back around for our Gwyl Awst festival in a fortnight,” she added.
I must have looked puzzled at the term.
“My apologies, Mair,” Rhian said. “Gwyl Awst is a celebration as we begin our harvest cycles. But my point is that we have no reason to single out Mikkel. If there is indeed a traitor in our midst, it could be anyone.”
“You’re right.” I sighed. “Mikkel may be the obvious and easy choice. But we don’t know.”
“Caution is all we can keep, and our own counsel.” Bleddyn said. “Still, I shall ask the monk who comes tomorrow for mass to ask the abbot to pay us a visit. We should advise him to be cautious, and to alert Ruadh as well.”
“We should keep this idea of a spy quiet,” Seren said. “If word gets around, then people will suspect each other.”
“Let’s keep it in this room,” Rhian said, “and Emlyn.”
“I will tell him tonight when we dance the blades,” I said. “I expect him out well before the sun rises.”
Damn. After that dream I
wasn’t sure who to trust. I even had a flash of doubt about Emlyn.
21
Another Dance
Gwen was sleeping when I headed to the weapons field. I ran through meditations for an hour before I heard Emlyn’s light footsteps approaching.
Finally, I thought. I’d wanted to be alone with him since he’d first ridden through the gates. Since I’d awoken from my troubling dream. My body tingled with anticipation of the dances we’d have tonight. First the dance with our wooden practice blades, then a dance back in his cottage. Presumptuous of me, I knew. But I doubted he’d mind sharing his bed or his body with me tonight.
After I finished the series I was working, he waved me to the side. Instead of handing me a practice weapon, he hitched his thumbs in his belt.
“How did you know my men and I were followed when we were on patrol?”
Drat! I was hoping for a kiss. But he was the Penteulu, the war leader. At least until I raised his passions by getting him to spar with me.
“I had a dream,” I said.
“A dream?”
I told him of the mists, the game The Lady played against an unknown opponent, and how the pawn near me had switched colours and attacked me.
“You have no idea who it was?”
"None."
“And you suspect our new groom with the broken arm?”
“Wouldn’t you?” I asked.
“Logical choice,” he volunteered. “Except that we have a rogue magician making the dead walk again and attack our people. Why on earth would the Witch Hunters Guild align themselves with a dark magician? I still place my bet with Fadog. Or perhaps another ill-tempered neighbour we haven’t considered.”
“Who?”
“Dewi.”
“Lord Dewi?” I over pronounced his title the way Ruadh had when I first noticed Seren’s husband. “I know he mistreats Seren, but his family is a friend and ally of Penllyn.”
“Is he?” Emlyn asked. “Ever since I gave the First Sword title to Gerallt instead of Dewi’s uncle Nye, the old Lord Mechain – Einion’s father — had bullied us. Nye was the youngest son of old Lord Mechain. He didn’t like me all that much. He was too much like Sawyl while he fostered here.”
Emlyn let his eyes drift across weapons field. I could sense the memories that flitted behind his eyes. He shook his head to clear it.
“After Nye made a ruckus over Gerallt’s promotion, my brother had quite the time repairing the relationship with Nye’s father. Just as Einion is stuck with Pedr as First Sword, we would have been stuck with Nye. I wouldn’t do that to my men.”
“When did Einion take the title?” I asked. Despite his gruff exterior, he seemed amiable enough when we had visited him in Nant Bywyd.
“About half a decade ago. We had another wave of sickness. Mechain was hit hard. Had Einion passed in the plague that took old lord Mechain, we’d have Nye as their lord. He’d be looking for revenge. Nye took Dewi under his wing early on. Revenge by proxy, I guess.”
Emlyn let his fingers twist along the pommel of his sword. Much like his brother stroked the hair above his lip as he pondered.
“Dewi and Seren’s marriage was meant to bring peace. But perhaps Dewi grows impatient for conquest,” he continued. “But ultimately, we don't know who. We won't accuse anyone without proof, but we must suspect everyone outside the immediate family. You and Gwen, Rhian and Bleddyn, Cadoc and Enid are the only ones to trust completely. Until the traitor reveals themselves, all we can do is stay prepared.”
“I hate that,” I said. "Now we’ll suspect innocents, along with the guilty.” I nodded towards the field. “Let’s take our mind off the imponderables of a secret traitor.”
We raised our wooden blades and began our free-flowing dance. Tonight, Emlyn was quiet, not asking for speed. We danced the meditations for two blades.
“You’re doing well,” Emlyn said as we took a brief pause, our blades still at the ready. “Fairly spry for a woman of your advanced age.”
“Why! You!” I pulled from my undead speed and launched a fast series of strikes at him. I forced him back a good five paces with my flurry of blows. He laughed.
I slowed my attacks. His laugh, so unlike the Emlyn I knew and loved, was contagious. I laughed with him.
His eyes calmed, with a warm crinkle around them. This was the old Emlyn. His given name was Neirin… But Neirin had died with his beloved adopted father, the old Lord Penllyn.
“You’re smiling,” I said and stepped in to him. I dropped my wooden swords to the ground. My hand on his chest sent a charge through me.
“You have that effect on me,” he said and leaned in for a kiss.
“For a young pup,” I said when we parted, “you don’t kiss too badly. If you like, you can take me down to your cottage and practice some more.”
22
Glyphs Again
The next evening, as we gathered in Bleddyn’s rooms, Emlyn invited himself along. He raised an eyebrow as he watched Seren trace her glowing fingers along Lord Penllyn’s wounds.
“Is this something you can teach to others?” he asked.
“If they are accepted by The Lady as her disciples,” Gwen said. “Would you like me to ask The Lady if she’ll grant you an interview?”
“I’ve had that interview,” Emlyn said, but shifted to a perplexed look, as though he were searching his distant memories. “I had a dream where I visited her land. That was two decades ago, before Fadog ambushed father and I. She told me my place was here.” He glanced at me. “She said something about you… Maria…” His brow furrowed, as if trying to remember.
That was odd. He used my Latin name… The goddess had told him my name? Twenty years ago? Why did that make me worry? He shook his head as though to clear it.
“If any battles occur, young lady,” he said to Seren, “you are to be as far to the rear as possible. Your talents can save lives.”
“I’ll leave the battles to you and Mair,” Seren said. “Try not to get too injured.”
As we waited for Seren to make her final passes, we discussed the same topics we had been. Potential spies. Who might have been behind the eyes on Emlyn.
Emlyn toyed with the pommel stone of his sword as he pondered. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Ruadh has been searching the borderlands for the shapeshifter. He sends me word though the monks every few days.” He shook his head. “No traces yet. Nothing. The creature just vanished when we had him boxed in.”
“You think the lycanthrope is the one that was watching you and Sawyl?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Or the people who it’s connected with, his rescuers,” I added.
“I have no answers,” Emlyn said regretfully.
“I wish we had a better way to communicate between the villages. Something like the way you three do,” Rhian said.
Seren used a small pair of shears to trim away the stitches in her father’s wounds and plucked them out between her fingernails. “With Gwyl Awst approaching,” she said, “I need to return to Nant Bywyd and plan the celebration for our villages. I’ve gotten better at communicating over distances. I can be our link to the south of Penllyn.”
“We’ll see that you are there for your duties,” Gwen said. “And we don’t want to give Dewi cause to be angry. When he leaves the brin, we’ll meet and continue your lessons.” We all soured at the mention of Lord Dewi. Even Gwen paused. “Do you need to go tonight?”
“No,” Seren replied. “If I return by week’s end, that will fulfill my husband’s command.”
I remembered what Emlyn had suggested about Dewi the night before—that even he could be the enemy in our midst. I shot Emlyn a quick glance. His eyes were already on me. Neither of us nodded or said anything. We didn’t want to bring up that possibility and make Seren’s situation any worse.
“That takes care of our southern borders,” Bleddyn said. “You can let Gwen or Mair know of any disturbances. Now what about our northern border with Fadog?”
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Emlyn glanced my way.
“Any chance you can travel north each evening?” he asked. “Gerallt is taking a few men into that area. I want to increase patrols there for a few weeks. I have a sneaky suspicion that the next attack may occur to our north.”
“I can take her and bring her back,” Gwen said. “That may give us enough of a warning to act in either direction. Then I can take some of the teulu through the mists to where they’re needed.”
Bleddyn voiced his approval. Seren, however, tapped her finger on her pursed lips. She stared at me for a few seconds, then glanced around the room. Only Gwen and I, her parents, and Emlyn were here tonight.
“Everyone here knows about… you?” she asked through our mental link.
“Yes,” I sent back. “We’re among friends who know.”
Rhian stared at her daughter with her firm Lady Penllyn gaze. Seren blushed like a child caught with a treat they weren’t allowed.
“My apologies,” she said. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t about to betray Mair’s confidence.” She glanced my way again. “You know the glyphs against the undead that I set at the entrance to the graves? I could set wards against the undead on all the buildings and the fort’s gate.”
“But…” Rhian asked, “Mair won’t be able to cross. She’ll be trapped. Won’t that be obvious to our unknown watcher?”
“Not if Mair helps me set the glyphs,” Seren said. Gwen’s eyes narrowed.
“Gwen helped me set the ward on the catacombs,” Seren explained. “If Mair is along, and lends me the magical energy, I can set the ward for undead, but, because her energy is part of that ward, she should be unaffected.”
“Will the glyphs be obvious?” Bleddyn asked. “I don’t want to alarm folks in the fort by a sudden appearance of wards on every door.”
“I think I can make them fade,” Seren said. “They may glow if they’re triggered, but should blend into the surface all other times.”