by Troy A Hill
“Behind you,” I yelled, and pointed with Soul. Gwen looked back. Her face went ashen. One guilder took advantage of my pause and attacked. I blocked his blow and ran him through. My eyes darted back to Gwen and the undead from the abbey’s graveyard. The horde was almost upon the defenders at the palisade now.
“Caerwyn and Cadoc can’t disengage,” Emlyn shouted at me. He pierced another of the Bechards before him. It disappeared as well. “If they turn to defend, the wizard will reach the grave.”
Deodamnatus! He was correct. Caerwyn and Cadoc and their handful of men were all that kept Lecerf from dashing into that open portal. That left Gwen to deal with the new undead. I thought back to the night the Witch Hunters had conjured spirits at Cadoc’s wedding. It was the only time I’d seen her afraid—other than right now.
Gwen swept her eyes over the mass of undead and turned stark white.
43
For Love
“Mair!” she yelled inside my mind. “Get down!” The tone of her thoughts brooked no room for argument. I sensed a massive building of magical energy inside her body, and a notion she left unspoken—a vague image of utter destruction, of fear for my life.
“Afon!” I yelled as I dropped. He didn’t question, but stepped over me. His blade sang through the air, providing me with cover. I curled into a tiny ball behind a pile of corpses. Dead guild fighters leaked their blood into the soil on which I lay. I sensed a final thought from Gwen that I should close my eyes. I clamped them shut.
There was a flash, brighter than anything I had ever seen. It seared through my eyelids. For an instant, the battlefield went utterly silent. I heard Afon groan as he stood over me, as a man both pained and disgusted.
“Back to the fight, dearest,” Gwen prompted me. Her voice was quiet and low, barely stronger than a feather.
I pushed my body upright, a sword in each hand. But no one was fighting. Not even Afon. Everyone was groaning and rubbing their eyes.
I shrugged and lopped off a Witch Hunter’s head while he was otherwise disposed. He was one of those with Osbert who had tortured Seren. Good.
I glanced across the field toward Gwen. She stood behind Cadoc, her magical shield before her. Her hand rubbed her temple. A glow of white, healing light drifted from her touch. Whatever she had done, it had taken a lot out of her.
As the battle slowly kindled back to life, with various fighters taking advantage over those less prepared, Gwen’s eyes met mine for a brief instant. A thin smile graced her face. She shifted her shield to Cadoc’s side and blocked a blow he hadn’t seen. But behind her in the abbey’s graveyard, there were no undead. Some weapons lay scattered around the open graves. But there was no clothing, no bodies. Nothing. I was glad I had taken cover between the corpses on this side of the battlefield. Even with The Lady’s protection, I doubted I would have come out of that magical blast unscathed.
Gwen stumbled as she tried to stay behind Cadoc and Caerwyn.
“Are you all right?” I sent.
“I will recover in a moment,” she sent.
I doubted that was the entire truth. Clearly, this was the spell she had feared to use at Nant Bywyd. And if she feared to use it while at her full strength, I had reason to worry over her now, when she wasn’t fully recovered from the spell Lecerf had hit her with that night. I approved of her staying out of the fight for now—and hoped she knew better than to use any more magic tonight beyond her invisible shield.
Closer to me, Emlyn used Corff to pierce one of the Seekers. This time blood erupted from the wound, and Bechard dropped to his knees. The other copy of him winked out.
One wizard down.
Only one left to go.
But there were still half a dozen Witch Hunter guards between him and me—and only half a dozen steps between Lecerf and his portal. Purple and green sparks flared across his robes as he shook his head to clear it. A few seconds passed before he seemed to focus his gaze on anything. Even then he blinked hard. He set his shoulders and gestured toward where Gwen and Cadoc, along with Caerwyn and his guards, blocked the way to the graves.
Again the old wizard raised his staff. He uttered another command and waves of darkness flowed into the magical staff. When he had filled it to his satisfaction, he pointed it across the battlefield. As he continued to mutter, a shadow rolled out of the staff. Two guilders in its path opened their mouths in a scream, but made no sound. Their bodies went rigid, then blackened, like charred pieces of wood as they toppled. The wizard destroyed his own men to make good his escape.
The wave of blackness, of death, crept across the battlefield. Two of the Meirionnydd guards froze as the darkness hit them and crumbled to dust. The curse was now only a second or two from my friends.
Gwen thrust her magical shield in front of Caerwyn and Cadoc, throwing her arm around them as if in an embrace. But her shield wasn’t wide enough. She had left herself outside its protections. “NO!” I screamed. My heart was in my throat.
The blackness struck her. Lecerf’s spell pushed and swirled against whatever wards Gwen wore. The Lady’s magic fought hard to protect her. Sparkles of light flashed as the blackness crashed into my love.
Another guilder swung at me, and I slid Soul into his chest. He hung impaled on my blade as the life drained out of him. I recognized him. The other guilder with Osbert and the thumbscrews. But paying him back wasn’t what worried me.
Ignoring the near-corpse on my sword, I darted my eyes back to Gwen. The magical forces finally exploded and threw her back up the hill. She landed at the foot of an oak tree and lay still. With the curse gone, Cadoc and Caerwyn struggled to regain their feet.
I shoved open my mental link with Seren and sensed that she was still at Caer Penllyn, where she had gone with Enid before the battle began. “Seren, help! Gwen’s down!” I sent as I tried to wrench Soul free of the dying Witch Hunter. With the Sword of Light in my other hand, I parried a heavy slice from another of the wizard’s last fighters.
Gwen’s thoughts floated distantly to my mind. “Dearest… keep fighting…”
She was alive, but I felt her fading. I needed to be by her side, to hold her, to comfort her.
She must have felt the resistance to her orders in my mind. She sent only one word. “Penllyn…”
She was right, as always. I had to finish the battle. For Penllyn. For our family. I prayed she could hold on long enough for me to get to her.
The guilder I had skewered with Soul finally toppled to the ground, dead. His fall took my sword with him. Only a few fighters stood between me and the wizard. I shifted my left hand to the hilt of The Sword of Light. It lengthened in my grip. Then I threw open the door to my demon’s cell. She and I would finish him. That wizard would die. Tonight. I wanted speed and a lot of it. My demon’s song flooded my mind.
One fighter’s head flew from his shoulders. The Sword of Light emerged from the back of the second fighter. Then sliced into a third. My demon and I kicked his body into the mass of dead guards in front of Lecerf. The blade slashed out again. Behind my shoulder. Across and down. The next man before me split in two from the diagonal stroke. Another spin, and slash across the neck of the final Witcther guard. I faced the wizard.
He stood at the very brink of the yawning black portal. His escape into the Underworld.
I tightened my grip on The Sword. He would not escape. I couldn’t let him. Not after what he did to Gwen.
Waves of blackness flowed into Lecerf’s staff. The wizard levelled it at me. “You are coming with me, my pet,” he wheezed.
He had to die. I probably would, too. But this fight between us had to end tonight.
I leapt over the corpses in front of me. I slammed the Sword of Light at the old wizard. He might catch me with his spell, but he wouldn’t live to enjoy whatever he had planned. Lecerf saw the inevitable blow and tried to shift his staff up to block my blade.
Another glowing sword erupted from the wizard’s chest. His eyes widened, as did mine. I knew that b
lade. It was my own. It was Soul. Behind Lecerf, Talian shoved the sword into the wizard’s back.
The Sword of Light continued the descent. I saw every split second stretched out before me now and watched as my arms pushed my enchanted blade down at Lecerf.
When the blade of The Lady met the black wood of the staff, the magic of the two enchantments clashed. The Sword broke through the staff. The magic in the staff exploded outward. The Sword of Light cracked and broke in two.
The energy of the blast stripped the flesh from the wizard’s bones. I sucked in my breath—a human reflex I didn’t realize was still imbedded in my muscle memory—and waited for my own instantaneous death.
Instead, I felt myself blown backwards. I tumbled end-over-end, still holding one broken half of the Sword of Light. When I landed, I felt the blast rushing over me like wind—but not touching me. His was not the only magic in the air. I sensed a different kind of energy that wrapped around me. A bubble of protection that deflected the blast’s energy. I looked to where Talian had landed and saw he had one, too. But Lecerf’s magic spread past us quickly towards the rest of our army. Towards our friends.
In the blink of an eye, another wave of magic flew up from the ground. It formed a magical cone around the wizard’s body and funnelled the blast up and away from our people. The explosion ripped through the sky with such force, I expected the stars to be knocked from their constellations and fall to earth.
Where had the protections come from? I sensed a golden strand that ran all the way across the battlefield… back to Gwen.
Propped on one arm, she held her palm towards us. No, no. She didn’t have the strength for more magic. But even now she pushed herself to protect the land and her people. To protect us. To protect me.
The wizard’s blast spent itself into the air and vanished with such force, it left the battlefield feeling like a vacuum. I looked for Lecerf’s corpse, but it was gone. As was the staff. As was the cursed Witch Hunter’s symbol.
Gwen crumpled to the ground. Her skin was sickly dark. Even her bright hair was turning black.
“Seren, HELP!” I sent as I raced to Gwen.
But Seren was already there. She must have tree walked… the oak tree… Seren knelt by Gwen’s still form. Tears streamed down her face.
Gwen’s eyes were open. Life barely shined within them.
“Dearest,” she whispered, and raised a discoloured hand. The flesh blackened like charred wood. The darkness still spread across her exposed skin.
“Seren, do something!” I screamed.
Seren merely turned her tear-stained face toward me. She brought no light to her hands. She pulled no energy through her golden cord.
She spoke no words to me.
Gwen’s eyes closed and her breath escaped into the night fog.
“No,” I cried. I grabbed fistfuls of grass. “No…”
Why had she pushed herself? Why had she made those bubbles to protect me and Talian? Why did she make the magic to protect the rest of the people on the battlefield?
I knew the answer. Tears rolled unheeded down my cheeks. She was Gwenhwyfar, first of the disciples of the Holy Lady of Britannia. She loved the land, loved the people, and loved me.
Damn it! Damn all the guilders. Damn everyone. I wanted Gwen.
It was my role to sacrifice, not hers. But to do anything less, to not give her all for the people she loved, wasn’t what Lady Gwenhwyfar would have done. And I loved her all the more for it.
Seren’s arm curled around me.
I felt the tears of red run down my cheeks. I bit my lip.
Then cocked my head.
“I hear it, too,” Seren sent. “The land sings its sorrow.”
The leaves of the oak stirred, though there was no wind. The stalks of grass bowed, rustling together. The very soil hummed, as if it heaved with tears. Together, they made a sound that could almost be mistaken for music. A song of mourning. A song of woe.
The tree shimmered, and a red rip in its bark opened. White light poured forth. Inside the rift stood the Goddess. Tears leaked from both her eyes as she stepped out and knelt beside Gwen’s lifeless body.
“Bring her back,” I sent to the Goddess. “I beg you.”
The Lady cast her eyes about the battlefield strewn with skeletons and corpses. “Would you have me reanimate the dead?”
Her meaning was all too clear. An undead Gwen would not be Gwen.
She slid her arms beneath Gwen’s lifeless body with a gentleness that made me cry anew. She lifted our fallen sister, my love.
The Lady, Goddess of Britannia, carried Gwen back into the tree.
I wrapped my arms around Seren as we knelt together. The rip closed behind the goddess. The land continued its song of sorrow for another moment before it, too, faded away.
44
A Man of Honour
Tears ran down my face. I collapsed at the base of the great tree that had swallowed Gwen. Seren sat next to me and stroked my hair as I cried. I felt my distant link to The Lady, but I ignored it. I let grief swallow me. Around me the air was full of the moans of injured men.
Seren bent and kissed my cheek. “I must tend to the wounded, dear sister,” she said and rose.
I stayed and sobbed. Gwen was gone from me forever.
I smelled blood. The blood of the dead, as well as the blood of one living. Shifter blood. Ruadh knelt next to me and laid one of his hands on my shoulders. “Lass,” his voice cracked.
I didn’t want to react. I wanted comfort right then; the comfort that only Gwen could give. But she was gone.
“Lass, the lad needs your help.” Ruadh pointed back at the battlefield.
Cadoc stood above Talian, who was being forced to kneel by two of Caerwyn’s men. Emlyn and Caerwyn watched from the side.
“He might lose his head before the night is done,” Ruadh said. “They be saying he’s a Witch Hunter.”
Talian? I owed him so much. Some of Gwen’s last words to me drifted through my head. Dearest… keep fighting. Not all battles were over tonight. In hindsight, who else but me had seen what I saw? Who else had seen Soul pierce the wizard’s chest, at Talian’s hand? I had to help.
“Aye,” I imitated the northlander accent best as I could. Anything to distract me from my pain. I rose, unsteady, and wiped my sleeve across my tear-streaked face. “How do I look?” I asked Ruadh.
“No worse than any other man on this bloody field,” he replied.
He extended an arm to me. I did not trust my legs, nor my emotions yet. But I would stand for all that was right and noble tonight, for the honour of Gwen’s memory if for nothing else.
Ruadh led me towards where Talian knelt, surrounded by men with spears or drawn swords. I was grateful to Ruadh for his help. My legs didn’t want to work on their own.
“Milord, tis true,” one of Caerwyn’s men proclaimed. “Talian here, he run off ta join the Witch Hunter Guild this winter. I swear he’s been with them since. He came home a few weeks ago, then left again when this new lot come into our village. I saw him ride out with them again, him in the middle of them.”
Abbot Heilyn was there too, by now. So Brother Iolo had successfully freed him and the rest of the monks from the cellars. Heilyn stayed quiet and let Cadoc and Caerwyn lead the inquiry. His eyes caught mine, however. I saw the compassion behind them. He already knew about Gwen. My knees started to buckle again.
I clung to Ruadh’s strong, thick arm so I didn’t collapse with the next step.
“Is this true?” Cadoc asked Talian. “Did you join the Witch Hunters? What say you?”
Talian raised his eyes. He wasn’t an apprentice any longer, or a boy. He was not afraid to stand up for himself. For the truth.
“It is true, Milords, that I joined and rode with the Witch Hunters. I soon learned they had no honour and only lived to harm others. I left them to return to my village and help my father on the farm. My father… he has six sons and not enough land to help us all.” His back was rigi
d, his head high as he spoke.
Ruadh and I stepped into the group. I released his arm and took a tentative step into the midst of the men. Good, my legs held me without collapsing. They still shook though.
“Milords,” I said with a small quiver in my voice. “I must speak on his behalf.”
“Mair,” Cadoc said, “I am saddened by the loss…” He hesitated and didn’t say her name aloud.
I closed my eyes and fought to keep my grief locked away. Not now. I didn’t have time for grief right now.
This battle had cost me half of my world. Gwen was gone. Emlyn let his eyes linger on me. I saw the pain in them. I wanted to go to him and be held, but, in my unusual world of love, that was Gwen’s role: compassion. Emlyn was the passion side of our triangle.
“You said you speak for his lad?” Caerwyn asked.
“Aye,” I said. “We have much to thank this man for. It was he who killed our enemy.”
A murmur rippled through the gathering.
“You, Lady Mair, struck the fatal blow against our enemy tonight,” Caerwyn interjected.
“No,” I shook my head. “He struck the blow that killed the magician. Did no one else see this young man’s act of heroism?”
Caerwyn and the rest of the men shook their heads.
“We were engaged in battle ourselves,” Caerwyn said.
“I saw it,” Emlyn said. “He was right behind Mair, Afon, and me the entire battle. I admit, I didn’t pay him much mind, other than a hope he wouldn’t get underfoot.” Emlyn pulled a frown. “Not much of a swordsman yet, this lad. Yet it was he who retrieved Mair’s sword from a corpse and attacked Lecerf from behind.”
Emlyn earned himself a little smile from me. For once, he returned it. Briefly. The sight of his grin helped solidify my legs. I stood straighter. I tried to draw from the type of strength Rhian always seemed to find when she needed to be strong.
“This young man has been a friend of Penllyn far longer than any of you imagine—or at least a friend of mine,” I said. “He was apprenticed to the band of Witch Hunters that captured me unarmed in the borderlands.” That was a tale I had no desire to tell now. My heart was so broken already. I rushed through the worst of it. “They kept me tied and tortured. His masters threatened my womanhood. It was Talian who aided my escape. He braved his masters’ wrath to help me and wouldn’t flee while I was their captive. The lad, I released to return to his home and to the girl he loves.” I smiled at him.