by Troy A Hill
He was interrupted by more booted feet. Two more men, dressed in dusty leathers, joined us. These had come in from the north of the cantref, a few leagues away from where Emlyn had scouted. Bleddyn waved them into chairs once he saw they already had mugs of ale.
“The village in that area, milord,” one of the riders said after he took a pull on his mug, “they have been hearing people move about the night.”
“They say they've seen about a score or more of horses, and men in and out of the borderlands,” the other guard added. “But that’s not all, milord.”
“We rode out,” the first guardsman continued, “along the path the villagers said they noticed the patrols.” He swallowed hard. That made my insides chill. Emlyn tensed as well.
“We found a farmstead. Cut to pieces they was…”
“Who was?” Lord Penllyn asked, “the farmers or the livestock?”
“The farm family, all five of them. Their livestock still alive.”
“We found horse and boot prints in the area. Looks like they had been taken at night while they slept.”
“Sliced? Not a beast attack?” Emlyn asked.
“Definitely bladed weapons. We buried their bodies, Milord,” the first said. “Then we found the local friar back in the village and told him. He said he’d be taking men out and give them the prayers for the dead.”
“We came straight back here, after that, Milord,” the other rider added.
Bleddyn stroked his moustache while he listened. He spread his thumb and forefinger out to each side and pulled them together.
“Clean up and get some food,” he said.
“Keep this report quiet,” Emlyn added. Bleddyn continued to move his fingers across his moustache.
“The main threat is north.” Emlyn leaned forward in his chair after the guards had left. “I should be the one to head that way. I’ll take a few men and set a patrol up there. Make sure Fadog’s watchers see me. He always gets nervous when I’m near his border.”
“Giving Ffransys a case of the nerves is always a good idea,” Bleddyn said. “It’s been too long since he tried to stir up trouble. He’s due for another round. But we need more than suspicions if we’re to challenge him.”
“I can ride with them,” Cadoc suggested.
“You and I should lead the hunting party against the beast.” Bleddyn said. “If Fadog is behind the attacks, I’d prefer neither the Lord of Penllyn nor his heir to walk into another of their ambushes. Lords of Fadog seem fond of ambushes. If it is Ffransys, he'll expect one of us to go that way. Emlyn is better suited to deal with that situation.”
“Won’t he want to ambush you too?” I asked.
“I’m smarter than Fadog,” Emlyn said. “And I’ll have two of our best scouts with me. They’ll uncover any ambush before Fadog has time to set one.”
“Sound idea,” Bleddyn said. Then looked at Gwen and I. “But shouldn’t one of you go with Emlyn?”
“I want Mair with you, brother,” Emlyn said. “With the Witch Hunters around, I’d prefer she not be seen by Fadog. The guilders don’t seem the type who like women trained in weapons. Especially not trained to her level.” His tone was flat, emotionless. He was all business when he talked strategy. “I’ll send good spear and bowmen with you, too.”
“Siors and Rhys?”
“Afon and Gerallt as well. That should give you enough men to handle the beast. And, you’ll have Mair and her blade as well.” He glanced at Gwen. “Any reason you should ride north with me?” She shook her head.
“I should help track the bear,” Gwen said. “The Holy Lady’s connection will help me sense a strong predator like that.”
“Very good,” Bleddyn said.
18
On the Trail
I spent the next morning grinning. Despite the ever-present morning mist settled like a damp blanket across the hilltop, I enjoyed the sunlight that peaked through the clouds. Emlyn was his normal unemotional self as he led the first party out the gate. Cadoc stood with his hands wrapped around his mug. Steam rose from it, and an iron mulling rod protruded from the wooden mug. He hunched over it so his face was above the mist, absorbing the only warmth in the chill morning. No smiles from anyone around me.
But I felt like a young child on their naming day. My first ride in the daylight in over six hundred years. At least a ride where I wouldn't feel as though I was about to pass out from the sun’s oppressive weight sitting on me.
Even the horses the grooms readied for our party seemed annoyed at being up before the sun had burned off the mist. One horse took one look at my grin and snorted. She turned away, as though she was looking for a surlier rider to mope with.
The four guardsmen Emlyn had assigned to go with us included his two best archers Rhys and Siors. Gerallt and the enthusiastic swordsman, Afon, was to ride with us. Both men had spears they leaned on, but both had swords hanging from baldrics on their sides.
“Any good with the long stick?” I asked Afon.
“I like the steel better,” he said with a wide grin, and shifted his stance to a ready position, spear overhead, his hands toward the back of the shaft. “The tip on this can move much faster than my sword, but it’s unwieldy at this length. Takes longer to recover. But I like the extra reach. I figure I’ll stick this in the bear first, then go at him with my sword next.”
“Live by the spear…” Gerallt growled next to him, then winked at me. “Don’t let his attitude fool you, milady. All of our men are skilled with a variety of weapons. Lord Emlyn insists on it. Says we never know what weapon will be at hand if battle comes unexpected.”
Afon cocked an eyebrow at me. I knew what he was thinking. If I was that skilled with the sword, how was I with other weapons? I grinned even wider.
“I’ll leave the bear sticking to you men then,” I said.
“You just a fancy a ride in the country then, Milady?” Afon teased. I liked him. Even when everyone else was surly, Afon cracked a smile.
“That,” I said, “and I’m here to keep you from getting in too much trouble.”
“You’ve got our backs for us?” Afon asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he hefted the spear overhead again. “With you as backup, I’ll concentrate on the bear.” He took a step forward, towards Gerallt, as though he would attack. The guard commander just shook his head and headed over to talk with Bleddyn, who stood on the keep’s porch.
Afon and one of two bowmen helped Gwen and I tie our packs on our horses.
I caught Afon glancing at Soul, where it rode my hip. He noticed my gaze and gave a smile.
“Live by the sword, die by the sword, milady,” he said.
“Why such an attitude?” I asked. “Don’t you have a wife or family to come back to?”
“I’ve seen too much death, milady, no woman deserves to be stuck with a man like me,” he said. “when I called out Lord Emlyn at a tap room in Mercia, I thought I was good.” He snorted.
“How long?” I asked.
“To disarm me?” He held his hand out and unbuckled a leather bracer on his sword arm. He pulled it back off the wrist and pointed at a finger length scar. “I made one thrust, then clutched my wrist with his sword at my throat.” He laughed again.
His eyes still sparkled as he buckled the bracer back on. “I’ll die with a sword in my gut, or an axe in my head.” His eyes slid up and down my body. I look I’d seen all too often from men. “Don’t get me wrong, milady. I like companionship of the soft variety. But a woman deserves better. Someone that will be with her every day. Not someone that will get returned on the back of a dead cart. If she’s lucky, I’ll be rotting in a field, the carrion birds and scavengers picking my bones clean so she wouldn’t have to worry about no funeral.”
“You called out Emlyn,” I said, “yet you serve Penllyn?”
“I’ve done some stupid things in my time,” he replied. “Challenging Lord Emlyn was the smartest stupid thing I did. He wouldn’t take me on right away. I had to p
rove myself. Once I did, he started teaching me,” he said. “I’m not near as good as you and he. You’ll live longer. But, those of us who live by the sword, will die by the sword.”
He bowed low and waved his arm in a large flourish.
“Begging, your pardon, milady Mair,” he said with a wink, “I apologise for being all morose on such a fine morning. I need see to the other packs.” He didn’t wait on a response before he turned away.
We rode for most of the day through the lands of Penllyn. I let my eyes wander the surrounding countryside. The land between the villages was spectacular. I spent long stretches of the ride shading my eyes and gazing out at the landscape. Penllyn in the daylight was as beautiful as the countryside up by the lake where Gwen had taken me. But, in Penllyn we weren’t at the top of a mountain range. Here, hills were interspersed with small forested areas. Tenant farmers tended crops or watched over a herd of sheep or cattle.
The farmers and shepherds we met along the way waved, then gave a small bow when they recognised Lord Penllyn. He often whistled tunes, in between conversations with the men or farmers we passed on the ride. My opinion of Bleddyn’s character as a caring and kind shepherd of his people solidified. He always had a kind word and knew many of his tenants by name. He listened whenever someone waved him over.
Cadoc was often greeted by a farmer, but to only to congratulate him on his marriage. Afterward, he and the rear guards would run their horses to catch up to us. Unlike other Lords who rode through their lands, never seeing the tenants and peasants, the nobles of Penllyn didn’t just notice, they engaged their people. This was a community I could grow to love.
Even being in the sun didn’t dampen my spirits or my energy. Instead of feeling tired, worn down, and oppressed by the light, I saw the beauty in the golden glow of the morning. Even as the fog burned off, and the light shifted whiter, I watched the sparkles it made in the water of the creeks our horses stepped over. Or the way light and shadow danced as grasses and scrub growth waved in the breeze. I shifted my attention to the magical connection to my new goddess. It hummed as she shared energy with me. That energy kept the weight of the sun off me, and let me experience the beauty of the land in ways I hadn’t been able to for six centuries. It was nice to be liked by a goddess.
Eventually, Bleddyn let Gwen and I overtake him, one of us on either side. The guards at the front and rear were far enough away we could converse without being overheard.
“My lady wife had an interesting tale about you, Lady Mair.” His expression was serious, and my mood sank. Would he be receptive the way Rhian had?
I glanced past him at Gwen, then shifted my eyes back to Lord Penllyn.
“I shared many facts of my life with her, milord,” I said with caution. That Rhian had told my story to him was not a surprise. I wasn’t sure, though, how he took the news. Up til this moment, he hadn’t done more than give Gwen and I a nod of greeting on the ride.
“You have stood with my family, and our people,” he said “Lady Gwen says you have dedicated yourself to the service of The Lady. Is that truth?”
“I swear it to be so, Lord Penllyn.”
Until then, my service had only been an unspoken understanding between Gwen and myself. I had never sworn an oath until Bleddyn asked. The cord between myself and the goddess hummed loud enough in my mind I was afraid Bleddyn could hear it too.
“Then my lady wife is correct, as she always is.” He reached out to touch my arm. “You are a friend of Penllyn. I’m concerned about… uh… your dining habits and what we can offer.”
“Your friendship honours me, milord,” I said. “I have seldom had such a welcome, especially after people learn of my nature.”
“We judge each man and each woman by their character here,” he said. “After I heard of your story from Rhian last night, I am even more honoured to have you in our circle. Your experience at the hands of the guilders will not be tolerated. I suggested we send a message to Canterbury on your behalf, but Rhian said you’d rather not?”
“I prefer not, milord," I said. "Let's give the guilders no excuse to notice me again.”
“As you see best,” he said, and let a smile drift across his face. “You have more than earned our friendship, Mair. And no more ‘Milord’s from you. I am pleased to call you friend.”
“Thank you,” I said. The words threatened to catch in my throat as a wave of relief washed over me. Bleddyn touched my arm with a gentle pat.
“The guild will have only the barest of welcome here in Penllyn,” he said. “Should I find out they have harmed any others, we’ll drive them as far away as possible.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you will excuse me, my friends, I’d like to ride with my son for a while.” Bleddyn slowed to let us drift ahead of him.
I dabbed at my eyes with my sleeve once he was behind us. I wasn’t sure how my new friend would react to red tears.
Gwen’s mind touched mine. She didn’t share any words, but let me know she was there by my side. I felt the glow and warmth of the goddess touch us both through our mystical connection to her.
“It’s nice to be loved,” I sent.
“Love always wins, dearest.”
19
Graves
The sun was still in the sky, but on the downward slide when Cadoc, who had the lead lord pointed at a hill half a league distant.
“Something is odd about that next rise.”
Gwen frowned as she followed his gesture.
My eyesight at night was excellent. I could see in near darkness, thanks to my undead nature. But, here in the bright daylight I had to squint to make out the details. He was right. The colour of the grass on the hillside was splotchy, as though the grass and plant life fought a disease of some sort.
“Something is different there,” Gwen said. “We need to investigate.” She kicked her horse into a trot toward the hill. Cadoc gave a shrill whistle to the alert the Rhys and Siors, who rode ahead as scouts. He waved at them to shift direction and meet us at the hill.
Once we arrived, Cadoc had Afon stay with the horses, and sent the other three guards out to scout the base of the hill. Gwen was already halfway up the hill by the time I dismounted.
“Something is off here,” she sent. “I sense death instead of life in the discoloured patches.”
Ahead of us lay a strange series of ragged brown ovals. The grass inside the ovals was shrivelled and dead. Each oval was two or three paces long, and half as wide. The depressions in the centre appeared as if the soil had compacted back into a void below.
Gwen was right. Something was different, but in me. I always had a sense of death, almost as though I smelled it, ever since I crossed over and became a child of the night. But now, I felt… something odd about the hill. Just like the night the ghosts attacked Cadoc and Enid’s wedding, I felt that here in the ground. But, unlike that night on the hill, I wasn’t riding on Gwen’s mental lead. This was me. I sensed old death. Death long abandoned. Yet, recent.
Just like Gwen had the night of the wedding, when she sent our minds down into the catacombs of Caer Penllyn, I reached out for my magical connection to the goddess. Once I had awakened the black and gold cord that tied me to her, I sent my magic senses out into the ground. There were graves here. Several together, under the blighted patches. A magical imprint infused each with a magical darkness.
Gwen wandered the area in between the ovals of dead plants. She was careful to not step on the blighted areas. I kneeled on a patch of healthy grass and ran my hand along the edge of one spot. There was something off with these spots.
I sat as Aemilianus liked, cross legged. I wasn’t sure if I needed to, but I held my hands out, palms down over the brittle brown grass and sent my mind into the earth. The magical sight I used to find the cord to the goddess awakened again, and I plunged my senses through the earth.
Below, I found the graves of long dead warriors. But they were graves no longer. Empty. But, each of them had the imprint of something…
Magic, perhaps? The imprint was the shape of the skeletal body that should have been in the grave. A trail of something ran from each grave, off into the Otherworld. A thin little strand. Almost like the thick magical cord between the goddess and I. But these were thin. Barely a thread’s width. All the graves had them. All the graves were empty. Save for one. One lone skeleton lay dead and buried here.
I heard a footfall and opened my eyes. Gwen stood in front of me. Her head cocked to the side, watching. Waiting.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.
“Sit, I’d like to show you something.” Once she had, with our knees touching, I took her hands in mine. I took advantage of the opportunity to share a touch with her.
I linked our minds and pulled our thoughts into the hillside. I directed her attention to the magic threads, and the hollow spots.
Her initial reaction was to repress a shudder. After the ghost attack, I wasn’t surprised. Gwen’s reaction to disembodied undead was one of fright and shock. But, she pulled her emotions together and quell the tremor in her hands.
Once she overcame the shock of empty graves, she examined the magical imprints
“I would not have thought to search for the magic connected to death the way you did, dearest,” she sent as we opened our eyes to the sunny hilltop. “Only after you showed me, was I able to find those threads. They go off somewhere farther than I can follow.”
“Where are the bodies, the skeletons?” I asked.
“Pulled away?” Gwen sent. I sensed the hesitation, the lack of surety in her mental tone. She fought to keep her hands from trembling again. Only a small one snuck through. I squeezed her fingers to help, to let her know I was there with her. She smiled at me in thanks.
“We should tell Bleddyn,” she sent, and released my hands.
Lord Penllyn was at the crest. A wide flat expanse that overlooked the rolling hills and valleys around us.
