by Troy A Hill
Emlyn spun and strode towards Siors, one of his captains.
“Emlyn is gathering men,” I sent back to Seren.
“Meet me at the grove,” Gwen added. I could see her across the courtyard. She whispered to Rhian, who stiffened. Her face shifted from mirth and a smile, to a serious visage. Lady Penllyn was back.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They attacked at our Gwyl Awst festival…” Seren replied, then paused. She was moving. Catching her breath. “We fell back into the keep and barred the doors and windows… I’m not sure where Dewi is… some of the men are on the porch, to protect the women and children inside the keep.”
Emlyn lead Siors, Afon, and two other Penllyn’s guards up the hill. Each of them carried a chain mail shirt rolled up under their arms.
Joining them, I passed along what Seren had told us. Emlyn listened as his men dropped their bundles. They helped each other don their mail and belt on their weapons.
Gwen and Bleddyn arrived. Lord Penllyn kept his gaze on his Penteulu.
“I’m going, too,” Emlyn said. “We’ve stretched the Teulu too thin. You’ll have Mair here.”
Bleddyn raised an eyebrow, then gave a curt nod. I suspected this would be Emlyn’s excuse and cover for whatever he would do to Dewi.
“Can you get us inside the walls of the fort?” Emlyn asked Gwen.
“I believe so. The wooden walls are fairly new, so I should be able to link to a log in the fortifications.” She looked around at the men. “Everyone ready?”
“Let’s go.” Emlyn said. Gwen turned towards the tree and raised her hand to open the slit. They all ducked through, Afon last of all. He cast a glance back at where Llinos sat to watch the dancing. He didn’t say a word before vanishing into the mists. Not even the usual “Live by the sword…” line he loved.
I knew how he felt. I was watching my own loved ones pass from sight. I silently sent the blessings of The Lady with them.
Gwen looked into my eyes, then closed the slit.
29
The Dead Walk
Once Gwen, Emlyn, and the rest had passed through the rift, I sat with Bleddyn, Rhian, Enid, and Cadoc at a table to the side of the main courtyard. Gwen linked me her vision as soon as she came out of the mists. I saw the backs of Emlyn and the other guards as they ran into the courtyard of Nant Bywyd. Skeletal warriors in old Roman breastplates and helms pressed toward the keep. A handfuls of Mechain and Penllyn guards held the porch against the skeletal invaders. I could feel Gwen tense across our connection, and imagined the gasp and cold chill that was probably running along her spine. She didn’t do well with undead. Well, that kind anyway.
Gwen’s eyes sought out the gate. I noticed a blackened and charred spot on the logs beside it, the size of one of Seren’s glyphs. The glyph was clearly gone, destroyed as if a magic fire had been set to it. The unknown wizard at work again. My heart sank in my chest.
I felt Gwen call the power of The Lady, and her magical shield formed in front of her. It caused her sight to waver as the light from the moon danced along it. I couldn’t see enough details through Gwen’s vision to make out who was on the porch next to her, but the pile of bones from the dead warriors increased as they fought.
Emlyn led his men into the battle from the right rear flank. The men with maces pummelled the skeletal warriors from behind. Emlyn and Afon used their blades. They attacked the spine between the armour and the helm. Sever the heads from the spines. The old bodies crumbled under their assault.
“There is a spell I might have to use, if Emlyn and the Penllyn guards can’t turn the tide,” Gwen sent. “But it takes a lot of energy to channel it.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“If you were near, dearest, you would be in peril,” she replied. “It could kill you.”
“Please don’t use it around me, then,” I sent. “I just found a home, I don’t want to leave it yet.”
The dead soldiers in the rear had turned towards Emlyn and his men. That would help. Barely. The men on the porch of the keep were wearing thin. I could see exhaustion in their eyes. Only the fear of the undead seemed to keep them moving.
One of the corpses thrust with its gladius at Afon. He blocked with his shield, then swung hard with his sword. His blade broke the bones at the wrist of the skeletal warrior. The old Roman sword fell to the ground, the skeletal hand still wrapped around it.
“I’ve only cast that spell once before with the same level of power I’d need for this many undead.” I felt Gwen cringe. “May the Holy Lady Protect us all!” Her fear leaked through with her exclamation. A chill grabbed my spine.
I searched the courtyard through Gwen’s vision. How bad was this situation? Did we have any other options? As I tried to make sense of the scene through her constantly-moving eyes, I noticed several human figures walking with and fighting amid the skeletons. Had the dead army recruited the living as well? But these fully-fleshed figures were no more alive than the Roman skeletons. One had a stab wound to the chest. Another had been slashed across the throat. These were freshly dead. These were Nant Bywyd people. Killed in the battle and resurrected, they had mindlessly joined the fight against their kin. One of them was familiar. Even Gwen stopped to stare.
Dewi.
His dead eyes gazed from an ashen, expressionless face, caked with mud on one cheek as if he had fallen in the dirt of the courtyard. Blood froth still dripped from his mouth and chin. An old gladius thrust into his back protruded from his chest. Now he carried a rusted sword and hacked with it.
I sensed Gwen shiver.
“Tell me about the spell,” I asked. Perhaps I could keep her mind off the undead she faced. She let her gaze sweep the courtyard. It was too early to tell, but Emlyn and the Penllyn guards seemed to have turned the tide. Gwen focussed on Emlyn as he wielded his blades and fought his way into the heart of the melee.
“The spell calls the energy of the sun, and shines it bright.” Gwen sent. “There was another of your kind in the northern highlands many years ago… but can’t remember… I’ll have to ask Ruadh. I know he was there… why can’t I remember?”
I had the sense she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs from old memories. How strange. She remembered events from her husband’s time—a century ago—as if it were yesterday. Why could she not remember this?
Her eyes focussed on Emlyn’s back. Emlyn sidestepped enough for Gwen to see his face. No emotion. Just fight the battle. But then a look of both disgust, and curl to his lip. One that told me he recognized the irony in the situation.
Emlyn’s off-hand blade knocked aside dead Dewi’s weapon. The corpses had no skill. No evidence of training. Just slow, brute force. Emlyn swung with Corff and it bit hard into the dead man’s neck. I could read enough of his body language. Emlyn was taking advantage of the situation. Dewi was already dead. In front of many who would vouch for that. There would be no war between Mechain and Penllyn. But, Emlyn could take out his aggression, in a very un-Emlyn way.
Dewi’s body swung the sword again. Emlyn deflected it out of line and brought his other blade in for another forceful blow. Medwyll cut into Dewi’s neck on the other side. Another mindless blow from dead Dewi’s corpse. Emlyn twisted out of the blade’s path and used his momentum to deliver a third blow. This time Dewi’s head tumbled from his shoulders, and the body collapsed into the mud.
“Rest in peace, Dewi ap Einion” Rhian said as she heard my narration. I opened an eye. Her face white, she crossed herself. Bleddyn and Cadoc did as well.
“How are the injured? Any count of the dead on our side?” Bleddyn asked.
“Seren says they have about a dozen injured villagers inside the keep,” I said, relaying her report to him. “She’s not sure of the dead since they’re still outside.”
“Does Seren know?” Rhian asked.
I shrugged. With Seren sharing our link, she probably did know. I wasn’t sure what the succession was. If I remembered correctly, Dewi had a young
er brother would become heir. Seren would probably return to Penllyn soon.
Behind Caer Penllyn’s keep, hoots and hollers erupted. Sawyl must have completed his tasks as groom and won the freedom of his bride from her friendly captors. I opened my eyes and glanced around Caer Penllyn’s main yard, lit now by braziers and the large oil lamps that ringed the weapons practice field. The contrast between the happy festivities here, and the battle at Nant Bywyd was jarring.
Gwen couldn’t take every guard to Nant Bywyd. We already knew that herself plus four others was in her comfortable limit to travel the mists with. Plus, that would leave Penllyn underdefended. Emlyn had said his men were stretched thin trying to guard both ends of the cantref from potential incursions. One small bright spot was that with them attacking to our south, our night should be quiet in Caer Penllyn. Well, as quiet as a wedding celebration.
The merriment of our bridal party grew louder. Sawyl carried his red-haired bride into the courtyard. He nodded at me. A huge grin split his face. I smiled at him. No sense in disrupting the festivities here. No one here could do anything about the dead to our south.
Sawyl set Haf on her feet. The surrounding crowd chanted a countdown, and at “ONE!” Haf ran towards the practice field. The girls around her, unmarried maidens from the hill top and the village below, chased after. Llinos watched with a grin, still at the table where she had been with Afon moments before. With her bum leg, I wasn’t surprised that she sat out this chase.
The other girls giggled as they raced after Haf. The crowd below shouted encouragement. Haf lead the girls up the hill. Gwen still sent her vision of the carnage through our mental link. The two images superimposed were a horrible study in opposites.
Shrieks of fear told me we had problems of our own.
30
For Penllyn
I shoved Gwen’s vision away and concentrated on what I could see at Caer Penllyn.
In the courtyard, armour-clad men—living men—set upon our people. How the hells had they gotten past the guards at the gate? One of our guards charged at the melee, but another fighter appeared from nowhere. He wasn’t there, then he was. The invader plunged his sword into our man’s gut and twisted. Oh, damn. I kept forgetting they had a wizard. If I ever found him, I’d have a pointed conversation with him about this invisible fighter spell. I might have to ask Gwen if she could figure out how to make a dead wizard talk. Because the point I was going to use was Soul.
The enemy fighters swarmed the stairs to the battlements and attacked our guards. Crap! We had been so worried about skeletons and ghosts, and here we were under attack by the living.
Bleddyn yelled. “Fadog!” Followed by “Penllyn! To arms for Penllyn!”
I sent my vision to Gwen and Seren as I drew my sword and charged.
But shrieks erupted behind us as well, up the hill. These were not the same as the fearful cries of our people that sounded below. These were the screams of a far worse panic.
Undead skeletons just like those at Nant Bywyd charged out of the slit in the rock from the catacombs. I sent a vision of it to Gwen and Seren. At least two score, a mix of old Britons and ancient Romans, shuffled forward, weapons out.
“My glyph?” Seren sent back.
“I don’t know,” I sent. “Someone’s destroying them.” I pictured the charred glyph I’d seen at Nant Bywyd through Gwen’s vision. Who was erasing our glyphs?
Sawyl was one of the first to see the new danger and drew his sword. He charged into the throng of old bones, his large sword smashing them to pieces. While other girls, barely old enough to wed, if that, ran toward the keep, Haf stepped right up next to him. But I had no time to watch them fight. We had maybe half-a-dozen guardsmen here. Emlyn had taken to Nant bywyd almost half of the force we had left after all of the patrols had gone out. Crap! That left myself and perhaps seven or eight swords, counting Cadoc and Sawyl, against both the living and dead invaders.
I grabbed Cadoc’s arm as he made for the armies of the living rampaging across the courtyard.
“You go help Sawyl,” I shouted. “I will take care of Fadog and his men.”
He glanced both ways, then nodded and rushed toward the undead. His sword was aglow with The Lady’s power.
“To Arms for Penllyn!” The cry to arms was repeated across the hilltop. I ran towards the living warriors in the main yard of Caer Penllyn and kicked my demon awake. None would harm Penllyn or her people while I stood. And if they did, they wouldn’t live to tell the tale.
The first mail-clad fighter I met didn’t even have a chance to swing his blade. Soul slid into his chest and was out again before the froth of blood could stain his lips. I grabbed his sword from his slack hand as he fell. Two blades in my hand. Parry and attack.
Soul flashed in the starlight as I used every ounce of speed I could pull from my demon. Caer Penllyn was my home. Its people were my friends, my family. Tonight I was death to those who sought to harm them.
I dropped three more guardsmen in the space of an eye blink. Lord and Lady Penllyn snatched up a pair of swords from those I had slain and took up position on the stairs of the keep. Women and children darted up the stairs between them and into the building. Enid guarded the side entrance, her sword in hand as women pushed children through the doorway.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blaze of yellow light. The screaming of horses stood my hair on end. I turned toward the new danger. The thatch roof of the stables was on fire. Several Fadog men ran from the structure, torches in hand. Silhouetted against the blaze, Mikkel used a burning stake to fight off an intruder. Sparks flew as his makeshift weapon clashed against his opponent’s mace. At his feet, Parry lay crumpled on the ground, blood oozing down the side of his face.
I watched in wonder and asked myself if, even now, Mikkel could be merely faking his adopted loyalty to Penllyn. If he could be the pawn of two colours—the one leaking information to our enemies on our plans, or defences, our glyphs…
But Mikkel was wearing down in the fight, and Parry had neither stirred nor risen. With his arm still in a sling, Mikkel was no match for his opponent. One direct blow would do him in. The invader swung his mace for what was clearly meant to be the final strike.
I pulled energy from my demon and sped in. A dozen paces was nothing. I hamstrung the enemy before his mace could complete its circle. Then I pivoted and ran him through with Soul. His mace flew from his hand and crashed into the flames as he collapsed.
Mikkel stared at me in disbelief.
I glared at him a moment, still arguing with myself whether I had saved a friend or a foe. Finally, I shook the argument from my head. “Get in there and save the animals,” I shouted over the noise of the battle and the cries of the panicked horses.
He nodded. Parry finally stirred and blinked around groggily. Mikkel helped him sit. As soon as Parry saw that his charges were in danger, he seemed to come fully to his senses. He stumbled to his feet and they charged into the blaze together. I watched them go, more torn than ever.
“No, no, NO!” A woman shrieked.
Llinos, Afon’s girl. Her voice came from across the courtyard, in the direction of the smithy. I looked across the courtyard and spotted a flash of pale flesh in the light of the inferno. A Fadog fighter had Llinos across a table in front of the smithy, her skirts up past her knees. His metal blade rested across her throat as he worked to undo the cloth across his loin.
I spied Tomi nearby, the cocksure trainee guardsman. Sword in hand, he rushed toward the melee in the courtyard. He was closer to Llinos and her attacker than I
“Tomi,” I called, “Llinos needs your aid!” I pointed with my sword to the smithy. He could surely handle one raider long enough for Llinos to escape. I’d take on the main melee.
He paused in his run and glanced between me and Llinos. He turned again to me and curled his lip in a sneer. Ignoring Llinos, he charged into the battle instead. Idiot. His skills weren’t up for a full on battle.
Words unfi
t for speech crashed through my mouth. I would deal with him later. For now, I swore Afon would not come home to find his girl harmed—in body or in spirit.
The night was my time.
I rushed in with preternatural speed. Soul sliced clean through the cretin’s neck. On my follow-through, I shoved his headless body away from Llinos.
Her eyes were wide, her expression void, emotionless in her shock. She blinked once and pointed behind me.
Tomi crossed blades with one of Fadog’s men, a burly fighter clad in leather and chain mail. Tomi didn’t have the skills for a battle like this. Already, his tunic was sliced and bloody. He wielded his sword as if trying to squash a spider with a broom. The Fadog man plunged his sword into Tomi’s chest. Llinos gasped.
Tomi stumbled, his hand clutched over the wound. Finally realising he was in over his head, he turned to flee. Fadog’s fighter pursued him and cut across the back of his thighs. Tomi fell, but struggled to his knees. His gaze found me and Llinos and stared in blank terror, as if pleading for help. Fadog's man plunged his bloody sword into Tomi’s back. The young trainee’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed into the mud. His hand released his blade as he fell.
A mixture of fury and righteous indignation mixed in my chest. I couldn’t do anything for him now, except find his killer. First though, I had to get Llinos to safety.
31
I give you your life
I pressed my second sword into Llinos’ hand so she could defend herself. Then I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the keep. Enid still guarded the side door. I was relieved to find a Penllyn townsman at her side, helping her fight off two enemy soldiers. Enid was still too new to the dance of the blades. She shouldn’t even be here.
The Penllyn villager was skilled with his staff. He blocked a strike, then popped the invader in the groin. As the man fell to his knees, another blow to his head toppled him.