A Blink of an Eye

by Troy A Hill

  I hit the ground hard but rolled into a crouch. Soul glowed in the misty air before me. I activated my cord to the Otherworld and made sure I still had my connection. The hedges, the tent, and the pikes with heads dissipated. They fell into nothing, like a dream that ended.

  The dark mist in the forest was the only part of the setting that remained—that, and the two headless bodies. Gwen helped Enid rise. They had tumbled with the shock of the magic from the horn. They both seemed all right.

  I walked to the corpse of the woman. Her dead, long-rotted hand still held the horn. Black streaks outlined the slice I had made in it with my blade. The horn was silver, not gold. Silver—the bane of my kind.

  The fighter was just as decomposed as the woman, probably years in the grave. I held my hand out towards Gwen and Enid. I hoped to stop Enid before she approached. Her stomach might not appreciate the sight nor the smell of the two. She kept her distance from the corpses, but her gaze was firm. She still held her naked sword. Her eyes darted around our surroundings. Like Rhian, there was steel in her spine.

  I still had questions. Why did they try to kill us with that enchanted horn? There had to be some kind of wizard behind this. Gwen and I shared a glance. From the look in her eyes, I was sure she was just as confused as me. Who in the hells were we facing? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  27

  A Meal

  I stayed the night at the farmstead, while Gwen took Enid back to Caer Penllyn. Gerallt shook his head and bit his lip as I reported our adventures to him. He went back with me to survey the scene.

  “Magic,” he mumbled. “I don’t understand magic, milady. I like human things that die when I stick them with steel.”

  “Me too,” I said. “But that’s not what I faced. These dead don’t like to die. Warn the men to go for the head, like Emlyn and I did that night that Ruadh and I tracked the shifter.” Gerallt ranked high enough to have been told our tale.

  “Where’d the bodies go?” Gerallt asked.

  “Gwen used a miracle from the Holy Lady,” I said. Too many people were learning of our abilities with magic. Gerallt was of good enough character for Emlyn to make him Penllyn’s First Sword. I hoped that meant he was stout enough to not be the red pawn I had dreamed about.

  “She had the forest swallow the bodies. There are graves over that way,” I pointed. “Two of village’s dead had been reanimated by our unseen foe.”

  “That could have been some of Sawyl’s kin,” Gerallt muttered. His face was white, even in the golden light of the setting sun. He swallowed once, his eyes darting around the landscape.

  “I don’t like dead that fight,” he said and nervously touched the hilt of his sword. A stout mace, an iron ball atop a thick wooden handle hung from his belt as well. Emlyn had been smart enough after our battle with the skeletons to see a need for his men to carry something that could break bones.

  “I prefer the corpse and skeletons in their graves too,” I said, careful to avoid using the term ‘dead.’ I was dead, and I liked my time above the soil. I wasn’t ready to retired their permanently.

  The next morning Gwen came to get me. She reported that Bleddyn had whistled in surprise when she and Enid related the story of my battle with the undead fighter. The report of the magical illusions had impressed both him and Emlyn. But they were just as perplexed as we were. Who was behind the elaborate attempt to kill us?

  But today was the feast day of Gwyl Awst, as well as Haf and Sawyl’s wedding. Upon our return, I found a bustle of activity at Caer Penllyn. Townsfolk were setting up tables again. The odours of wood smoke and roasting boars drifted on the wind and stirred my memories of Cadoc and Enid’s wedding.

  Haf asked several of her fellow kitchen girls to serve as bridesmaids. Rhian and Gwen headed towards the kitchen to make up for their absence. I tried to help the best I could, but my kitchen skills had disappeared. Too many centuries without the need to prepare food.

  I stirred a pot that didn’t need stirred. This kept me in the kitchen, but out of the way.

  “Perhaps, Mair,” Rhian said, “you could help gather and count the cloths and utensils?”

  I agreed. I’d rather be useful somewhere than pretending to help.

  Rhian led me back to a storeroom and left me with Llinos. Our pairing for this task worked well. I pulled a stool around the storeroom, then climbed to retrieve items on high shelves. Llinos stayed below and ticked off the list Lady Penllyn had left us. We ran counts of everything and made sure we pulled enough of each item for the feast.

  “Thank you, Lady Mair,” Llinos said. I realised she wasn’t grateful for the stack of table linens I’d handed her.

  “For what, dear?” I suspected I knew.

  “Being braver than I am,” she said. Her cheeks flushed. “Afon has visited me several times. I could have never worked up the courage to talk to him.”

  “He’s treating you well?” I asked.

  “Oh, most definitely.” She pointed at another stack of linens. I slid the stool that direction. “I wish I were brave, like you were the night of Lord Cadoc’s wedding…”

  “Anyone can be brave, Llinos,” I said. She pointed again, and I slid my stool over.

  “We’ll not see more ghosts at the wedding tonight, will we?” Her voice had an excited edge to it. Apprehensive, yet with an underlying sense of curiosity.

  I paused. Ghosts had attacked Caer Penllyn before. Why? I had no clue. But we’d certainly had a glimpse that night of who in Penllyn was brave, and who was not. It had happened when those damn Witch Hunters were here. They’d done nothing to help, instead leaving Cadoc and me to drive the spirits away. Had it not been for The Lady using us to channel her power, the lords of the land might not have seen how useless the Witchers were.

  “I should hope there will be no more ghostly visits tonight,” I said.

  “You’ll be here?” she asked. "You and Lord Cadoc will help if the ghosts return?"

  “Of course, dear.” I passed her more table runners. Green, the colour of Penllyn. “This is my home.”

  I filled a plate with bread and fruit and grabbed a mug before I headed up the hill to the grove, where the wedding was to take place. I could sense Gwen up there. Light spilling from her hands, she wove together a lattice of vines and branches to create a beautiful canopy overhead. It was just as elaborate as the one she had made for Enid's wedding day.

  “Very nice,” I said and passed her the plate and mug. “You have a way with plants.”

  We sat on a log and looked at the countryside below the hillfort. I leaned over the edge of the steep drop.

  “Are you sure Ruadh has climbed this?” I asked. Even with my special abilities, I never could have climbed this cliff face.

  Gwen laughed. “He and Iolo spent two summers trying to find a way up. When they finally did, Bleddyn sent Ruadh back with a crew and some heavy hammers to knock loose the handholds he and Iolo had used.”

  “Two years?” I asked.

  “They had many false starts. The lords of Penllyn like this wall to be impassable,” she said. “ But show Ruadh or Iolo a rock they haven’t climbed before, and they’ll be climbing quicker than you can draw your sword.”

  Interesting. I wondered what my friendly bear was like when the mysterious brother Iolo was around. I hoped the missing monk was still alive wherever he was. But my mind turned to the question Llinos had asked.

  “We still have no idea why the spirits chose Cadoc’s wedding night to attack,” I said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Thinking of that night again?” She shuddered. “I suppose it’s only natural, with another wedding to take place on this very hill.”

  “Perhaps the spirits weren’t merely disturbed,” I said. “Perhaps they were directed by someone. The same one who raises the dead?”

  “Our unknown magician?” Gwen said. She wrapped her arms around her chest. Even now, the memory of the disembodies spirits darting about this hill clearly unnerved her. I leaned in an
d pulled her tight against me.

  “Who could it be, though?” I pondered.

  Enclosed in my arms, Gwen’s tension began to ebb. “About the only power players in this part of Britain who weren’t here for the wedding feast were Penda of Mercia and his dear old enemy, Oswiu of Northumbria.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t get their invitation?” I asked, then giggled.

  “At least,” Gwen said with a hint of a smile, “the spirits showed us how limited the Seeker and his men really are. How did that Guild get so powerful in Europe, anyway.?”

  “Connection with the church,” I said with a shrug. “And silver.”

  “Money, ah…”

  “Not only coin,” I said, “but the metal itself as a weapon. When the Guild tracks us down—us children of the night, or our brothers the shifters—they use forged weapons of steel mixed with silver. Cuts from silver are painful and deadly to us. And when they find one of us, they draw out the agony…”

  A shudder rippled through me. Memories passed through my mind of my time at the hands of Onion Breath. He was pure evil. Silver ropes I couldn’t break without seriously harming myself… A silver blade I couldn’t escape… The metal pierced my soul, not just my body, as he carved designs into my flesh. My blood demon, content and asleep in the corner of my mind, awoke and rattled her cage. The memories of the experience were enough to rouse her.

  Gwen leaned over to hug me. “Those men are dead now, dearest,” she said and kissed my temple. “You killed them, and I made the forest swallow their bodies. No one but you or I know where their corpses lie.”

  “One does,” I said. My memories flashed back. The young man, the witcher apprentice.

  “The lad who gave you his knife so you could free yourself?”

  I only knew him as their apprentice. I didn’t even know his name. The girl he wanted to marry, the one he left his family farm for, Bethan, I remembered her name. The apprentice had joined the Guild to find a profession that could help him make a home with her.

  Onion breath had cut me, many times while I was his captive. I fought my demon more than I fought Onion Breath and the Hunchback that night. She demanded blood to heal our body. A lot of blood. But we had killed off the two Witchers. The apprentice was the only source of fresh, living, human blood.

  “I couldn’t kill him,” I whispered. I couldn’t kill the young man who had saved me, no matter how viciously my demon screamed for him.

  Gwen tightened her hug on me. “That is why I love you,” she whispered. “You are a beautiful soul, full of love. You were willing to die yourself that night, instead of harming the young man, even though he pointed a crossbow at you. Did it have one of those silver tipped bolts in it?”

  That brought me out of my melancholy.

  “No.” I found a smile. “He was so scared when he cocked the weapon, he forgot to load it.” I saw his face in my mind. Beyond scared. He was petrified. “He kept whispering ‘I’m Sorry,’ over and over.”

  Gwen patted my arm. “Let the memories of the past be gone,” she said. “We have driven the Witch Hunters from Penllyn forever.”

  I held her tightly and hoped she was right.

  28

  The Feast

  Despite all our whispers and worries, the wedding took place without incident. Haf and Sawyl exchanged vows and Gwen helped me preform the hand fasting. Then came the hugs and smiles, the feasting and dancing. Ilar the bard sang, and the townsfolk enjoyed their ale. Fear of the undead seemed to have passed from everyone’s mind. I even caught Afon and Llinos quietly strolling towards a table at the edge of the gathering, hand-in-hand, to enjoy a quiet moment alone.

  Sawyl had asked Emlyn to stand as best man again, which he had agreed to. “I don’t have to watch the ceremony,” he admitted later as he and I strolled around the edges of the festivities. “I stand behind everyone with my swords and watch for troublemakers.” He winked at me as his gaze scanned the festival again. “You had to do all the talking, with the ‘do you this?’ and ‘have you brought that?’”

  “Gwen helped,” I said. “She fed me my lines. I just repeated what she sent into my mind.”

  “When did you tell Gerallt that you’d return?”

  “I didn’t. That depends on the festivities.” I pointed up the hill. “Not only are dead bodies and skeletons walking the land, I want to make sure we have no more surprises when the young girls chase the bride again.”

  “The ghostly are up to you and Cadoc,” he said. I expected a smile, but he stayed serious.

  “If they have bodies, bones or not, my men can handle them. I’ve got three guards ready to go with Gwen. I can spare them,” he said. “But we are spread thin. If Caer Penllyn were to come under attack this week, every villager will be on the walls.” His eyes locked onto mine. “At least we have a special surprise for whatever enemy makes the terrible decision to attack us.”

  I knew I was his special surprise, sent wherever he needed me.

  “There is a problem in Nant Bywyd I may have to correct, though,” he said and pulled me farther away from others who might overhear.

  “Oh?”

  “I took the opportunity to have a chat with your friend Mikkel,” he said. His face was serious, and a fire had started to smoulder behind his gaze. I waited. “I noticed something strange about Seren’s wounds. Something Gwen said and something Mikkel said didn’t match up. According to Gwen, Seren was bruised on her legs and back the day you rescued her from the witch hunters.”

  "And her hand was crushed and broken," I added.

  Emlyn frowned at me, head tilted. “You don’t bruise, do you?”

  “I haven’t had a bruise for over six hundred years,” I said. He knew that. He’d been with Aemi long enough to learn about us.

  “What colour were Seren’s bruises?” he asked.

  “A nasty yellow.”

  The fire behind his eyes was hot. “The bruises you saw weren’t given her by the witch hunters. Bruises take a while to show. If I got hit now, it might be tomorrow before the marks would darken. They’re only red on the first day. After that they turn black and blue. Old ones are yellowish. Usually takes a week to go that far.”

  “So where did the other bruises on her legs and back…? Damn him!”

  I remembered my first night here in Caer Penllyn, the night before Enid and Cadoc had married. I had overheard a tryst in process and didn’t think anything of it. But Seren did. She realised it was her husband and one of the kitchen girls. She found the courage to confront him. Meek and mild Seren had the backbone of her mother when occasion demanded. But, in public, she kept her presence subservient to him. Gods! Her life was complicated due to that marriage.

  “You know I caught him choking Seren earlier, the night before Cadoc’s wedding?”

  “No…” Emlyn said evenly. “And you stayed quiet why?”

  “My knee had a pointed conversation with the parts of Lord Dewi that were engaged in banging a kitchen girl. Then I choked him like he choked Seren.” I nodded at the smithy where it had happened. “I had him two feet off the ground and threatened to do it again in front of witnesses if I found another bruise on her.”

  Emlyn not only grinned, he laughed. “What did the scum, I mean Lord Dewi have to say for himself?”

  “Not much,” I said. “His face was turning purple when I dropped him. I’d be surprised if his manly bits had recovered in time for him to have another go at any of the girls before they left after the wedding.”

  I thought more about Dewi’s actions when he came to find us with Seren after Osbert had crushed her fingers. Damn him! He had been trying to hide what he had done to her even then. He had flicked her skirt down to cover bruises he had made on her. Damn him!

  “I’ll go to Nant Bywyd. You stay here,” I said. “We don’t need a war between Penllyn and Mechain.”

  “I’ll go,” Emlyn replied. “While I love nothing more than to see you humiliate him in front of the entire village, I don’t want
you to leave the caer.”

  "But..."

  “This one,” Emlyn’s voice was hard. “is personal. No one in Penllyn harms a woman like that. Especially not my niece.”

  “Bleddyn’s not stupid,” I said.

  “He volunteered to ride down with me.” Emlyn’s mouth curled into a grin. “I told him I could avoid a war with Mechain if I went by myself.”

  “I could go with you,” I volunteered. “Like you said, this is family. And I’m family now.”

  “But we’ve got an army of ancient dead out there. I need one of us here.” He gave me one of his stern looks. “You stay in the caer to ride out as needed,” he said. “Or get Gwen to take you. I’ll handle the family matters.”

  He had a point. He or I should be here, centralized and ready to ride anywhere hostilities broke out. But I could get Gwen to take me to Nant Bywyd early tomorrow morning, before he left. I’d have that conversation with her tonight in bed. I smiled deviously.

  A shriek grabbed our attention. Our hands flinched towards our hilts before we realized it was merely the traditional kidnaping of the bride. The younger folk had grabbed hold of Haf and were carrying her towards the cottages next to the keep.

  As our excitement settled, Emlyn raised his mug towards the mob abducting Haf. “Another reason to not marry. No telling what kind of silly games they’d make me perform.”

  “Perhaps they could kidnap you instead,” I said. “Your bride could just wait for you to free yourself.”

  A familiar tingling grew in the back of my mind. A moment later, Seren’s voice rang out inside my head. “Gwen! Mair! Nant Bywyd is under attack! The dead—It’s the armies of the dead!”

  A thousand curses! We had been so worried about our own lands and borders. The dead were still in Mechain.

  Emlyn’s eyes narrowed as he saw my expression darken.

  I nodded as I listened to Seren’s mental report. “The dead attack Nant Bywyd,” I whispered and jerked my thumb toward the grove.