The Pendragon's Blade (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 2)

by Sarah Woodbury

  The door to the central cell was closed. One of Cade’s captors released him in order to put his shoulder underneath the wooden bar that blocked the door. He lifted it up and the door swung outward. The remaining guard slipped a knife between Cade’s hands and finally cut the rope that bound them. He then threw Cade forward into the cell. Cade landed on his hands and knees on the stone floor while the guards barred the door behind him.

  “Cadwaladr! By the Saints! I prayed for rescue but had lost hope that anyone would come. What are you doing here?”

  Cade sat back on his heels. He was not alone, just as Mabon had said. Siawn, one of Teregad’s brothers, stood opposite, looking at him. He’d been ministering to Crawdawg, who lay huddled on the floor, his face a mass of blood and bruises, much, Cade assumed, like his own. Unexpectedly, Siawn wore the robes of a Christian priest.

  “I’m visiting you, apparently,” Cade said, “as a guest of your brother.”

  “Teregad.” Siawn spat on the floor. “I’m sorry that you have been caught up in his madness too. Are you much injured?” He inspected Cade’s features and appendages. “Your face looks bad but as you are still able to speak, they must not have damaged you as badly as they hurt Crawdawg.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Cade pushed to his feet, walked to the door, and peered through the bars. They were alone, without even a guard to watch over them. Perfect. “It may be that the Lord has answered your prayers,” Cade said, feeling more confident again. “Now that I am here, we won’t be staying much longer.”

  Chapter Five

  Rhiann

  “How long has it been since anyone’s seen him?”

  “I spoke with him at the ford,” Rhun said. Taliesin and Rhiann had gone to him when they realized that Cade was nowhere in sight and none of the men, either at the ford or in the tent, had seen him. “He said he would walk in the forest and clean up some of the remaining Saxons who might have retreated there.”

  Rhiann knew what that meant. The image of Cade wrapping his arms around the shoulders of that first Saxon rose unbidden in her mind and her stomach threatened to revolt again. And yet, Rhun had given orders that none of them were to succor the wounded Saxons. They were to leave them as they lay, and by those lights, one could construe Cade’s behavior as merciful.

  Taliesin gazed east and then turned west, unseeing, or perhaps seeing in a way that only he could. “He’s alive. That I know. But we’ve been most negligent. We’ve assumed that because he appears invincible, he, in fact, is.”

  “Do you know where he’s got to?” Rhun said.

  “Oh!” Taliesin said, his seriousness lifting for the first time in hours. “Of course!”

  “Of course, what?” Goronwy said.

  Taliesin was still staring, tracing the outlines of the western mountains with his eyes. “Caer Ddu.”

  Goronwy and Rhun swung around to look west too, trying to see what Taliesin saw. “There’s no such place. Or rather,” Rhun qualified, “it’s a place from a bard’s tale.”

  “Oh, it’s real all right,” Taliesin said. “You just have to know where to look.”

  “And the fact that you are no longer worried implies that you can find this fort?” Goronwy said.

  “Yes,” Taliesin said happily, “I can. I’ve been there before.”

  “Can you lead us there?” Rhiann said.

  “It isn’t far,” Taliesin said, still humming his own internal tune.

  “We need to eat and sleep,” Rhun said, turning practical. “None of us will be fit to walk, much less fight, if we do not see to our human needs.”

  “Will Cade be all right if we wait?” Dafydd said. “Wales cannot lose him.”

  Rhiann nodded. Like Dafydd, she wanted to find Cade right now, but as Rhun had pointed out, she was so tired from the battle and lack of sleep that if the sun weren’t shining right on her face, she wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open.

  “I don’t like it any more than you.” Taliesin stared into the distance again. “I cannot promise you he is uninjured, but he is still himself. He has not suffered any permanent damage.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Rhun said. “I wonder if his captor realizes he has a sidhe on his hands?” He turned away and headed towards Geraint, who was directing men bearing stretchers. The able-bodied were carrying more and more wounded away from the battlefield and into the tent.

  “How many of our men are dead?” Rhiann asked Goronwy.

  “Perhaps thirty in all,” he said. “The number of injured men is much greater. We lost a third of the cavalry and a quarter of the foot soldiers. Their casualties were fewer thanks to the fact that they came late to the battle.”

  “And the Saxons?”

  “Cade estimated that they had nearly three hundred men,” Goronwy said. “I don’t know how many fled when we attacked them, but they’ve at least two hundred down, between the soldiers that died here at the river, and those you and Dafydd killed on the trail.”

  “By the accounting of war,” Taliesin said, “thirty for two hundred is a trade any lord would make.”

  “Those who died might not agree,” Rhiann said.

  Goronwy shook his head. “While many of our men are farmers, they all have been bred for war,” he said. “None would choose to die, but if their death would mean a victory for Cadwaladr and a defeat for our enemies, there are few who would turn away.”

  The peasants for whom they’d fought began trickling back down the trail towards Llanllugan and there were suddenly so many hands to help, Rhiann realized hers weren’t needed. She allowed Taliesin to lead her away from the dead to a tent that was set up on the edge of the activity.

  “In,” he said. “Sleep.”

  Unable to argue with him, Rhiann ducked under the entrance flap. The tent was empty except for one blanket. She sprawled forward onto it, not caring that it was the only thing between the grass and her, and slept.

  * * * * *

  Many hours later, Rhiann woke to the smell of cooking that wafted through the open tent flap. She tried to roll over but she still wore her quiver on her back with its five arrows. Her bow lay under her, digging painfully into her ribs. She was glad that she’d at least remembered to unstring it or the bowstring would have been worthless.

  She sat up. Outside the tent, the scene had been transformed from one of chaos to Spartan order. How long have I slept? Days? She exited the tent and walked to where the others sat around a small fire.

  “Good evening, Rhiannon,” Taliesin said in greeting. “Eat.”

  Rhiann automatically held out her hand for the skewer of meat, her eyes still on the expanse of land in front of the river. The dead and the villagers were gone. All that was left to show that a battle had been fought the night before was flattened grass, stains of blood, and Taliesin, Goronwy, Dafydd, Rhun, a young man she didn’t recognize, and Rhiann herself.

  “Where is everyone?” Rhiann said.

  “Off,” Rhun said. “The villagers have recrossed the Rhiw River and have returned to their homes.”

  “But your soldiers?” Rhiann asked Rhun. “Geraint? Where are the men from Bryn y Castell?”

  “Gone as well,” he said. “It’s a three-day journey to Bryn y Castell on foot, even for those who are healthy. I may not be a Christian, but I respect the knowledge of the monks. I’ve sent the wounded to their sanctuary just east of here. They’ll care for them there.”

  “They’ll be under the protection of Lord Morgan until they are well enough to travel further,” Rhun said.

  Goronwy snorted under his breath. “Fat lot of good that’ll do them. Where was he when we needed him? And where is he now?”

  Rhun tipped his head in acknowledgement of the potential truth of Goronwy’s words, even if he didn’t feel it proper to openly agree.

  “We sent Geraint back to Bryn y Castell with the army,” Goronwy added, for Rhiann’s benefit. “It was under fierce protest but somebody had to go. We drew straws and his was the shortest.”

 
“That’s because you cheated,” Dafydd said.

  “Ssshhh.” Goronwy shoved Dafydd’s shoulder so he overbalanced on his log, nearly dropping his food.

  Rhiann didn’t know what to say. The sudden change in circumstances while she’d slept had disoriented her. “Did any of you sleep?”

  “Some,” Rhun said. “Dafydd here just woke a few moments ago. For the rest ...” He shrugged.

  Rhiann walked to Hywel, the one man she didn’t know, so Rhun could make the introductions. “Rhiann, this is Hywel. Hywel, this is Rhiann, of Aberffraw. She fought with Dafydd and Taliesin.”

  “Madam.” Hywel ducked his head. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve spent the day hearing of your bravery.”

  Rhiann held out her hand, pleased, even if she didn’t know that she really deserved the praise, and he took it.

  “Our lord Cadwaladr fought as one possessed.” Hywel eyes shone. “I’ve never seen the like in all my life.” As Hywel couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old, of an age with Dafydd—and her, truth be told, although Rhiann was feeling far older than that after the events of yesterday—that wasn’t saying much. Nobody gave his comment the derision it probably deserved.

  “Of course, he is possessed.” Goronwy took a bite of meat.

  “You make a joke of it?” Hywel said.

  “It’s either that or cry,” Rhun said. “Cade prefers it this way.”

  Giving up on any hope of understanding men, now or ever, Rhiann looked at Dafydd. “Are you well?” She walked to him and he scooted over to give her space on his log. Rhiann wiggled out of her quiver and set it and her bow on the ground.

  “Yes,” he said. “Though hungry.” He watched her shake out her hair and brush her fingers through it. “Did you sleep in your quiver?”

  Rhiann looked at him through the cascade of hair, feeling the customary relief at having it loose instead of tight against her head. “Yes.”

  He smiled and leaned closer. “I’ll tell you a secret. I can’t claim to have slept with mine on, but I had it tucked under the blanket with me, just in case.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever go anywhere without my bow again,” she said.

  Taliesin raised his voice above the various murmured conversations, suddenly all business. “We’ll leave as soon as we’ve finished eating. Caer Ddu is no more than ten miles from here, but we must walk much of the way.”

  Goronwy grumbled. “Knights don’t walk.”

  “Goronwy—” Rhun threw a hunk of bread at him, which he caught.

  “I’m just telling the truth,” Goronwy said. “I’m not arguing with Taliesin.”

  “We’ll walk because we don’t have Cadwaladr to guide us in the dark and the trail is steep and rocky,” Taliesin said. “We’ll ride the initial distance and then leave the horses beside the road before we get too close. Stealth is the order of the day. Or rather, night.”

  “Right.” Goronwy stood and stretched. “I gather we aren’t taking this fort by force?”

  “I know you don’t like sneaking around in the dark,” Taliesin said. “But in this case, it is the preferred method.”

  Goronwy mumbled something Rhiann didn’t catch and strode to his horse. Rhun must have heard him more clearly because he answered him. “Be careful what you wish for, friend. I asked for a cavalry charge and that is exactly what I got. The gods are very close to us these days.”

  Rested and fed, they broke camp just as the sun set.

  “How many times do I have to ford this river?” Hywel urged his horse into the fast running Rhiw. “I’ve been in it, over it, under it and through it.”

  “Cade and I swam the Menai Strait after we escaped from Aberffraw,” Rhiann said. “Be thankful we don’t face that here.”

  “You swam the Strait?” Hywel said.

  Too late, Rhiann realized she’d only added to the legend of Cadwaladr that was growing in Hywel’s mind. His reaction to the knowledge that Cade wasn’t human was different from Dafydd’s—awestruck rather than fascinated—but was equally powerful for all that.

  They continued west, following the river, although along the southern bank of the Rhiw, not the northern one where Dafydd and Rhiann had shot the Saxons. After several miles, Taliesin gave the order to dismount. As Rhiann obeyed, she peeked over Arddun’s back and saw something in the woods. She looked hard and two eyes looked back at her. “Cadfan!”

  “Don’t spook him,” Rhun said. “He’s had a hard time. Look at the roughness of his coat.” Rhun rummaged in his saddlebags and came out with a carrot. He held it out. “Here, boy.”

  Cadfan allowed Rhun to close the distance between them, even taking a step towards him in the end. Rhun grabbed his bridle to pull him out of the woods and onto the trail.

  “Is he injured?” Goronwy said.

  Rhun rubbed his hands down Cadfan’s front legs. “I don’t think so.”

  “He’s a long way from where he should be,” Hywel said. “We fought the Saxons on the other side of Llanllugan and Lord Cadwalladr said he’d fled east.”

  Taliesin came near and rubbed the horse’s forehead. “It makes me think that we are headed in the right direction. Cadfan may have tried to follow Cadwaladr after he was captured.”

  “We’ll bring him,” Rhun said. “Cade will be glad of him when he is free.”

  Rhun tied Cadfan’s reins to his horse’s saddle and the company continued up the track. Darkness descended completely a short while later. They turned off the larger trail onto a smaller one, hardly wide enough for a cart, although many had left ruts in the soft earth. The path cut through the forest, wending back and forth across the face of the mountain, much as the trail that Taliesin had led the peasants along had done.

  At one point, they walked through a man-made tunnel in the rock, and came out the other side into more forest. Rhiann looked up and saw nothing above her—not branches, clouds, stars or moon. She opened her mouth to ask Taliesin about it, but he forestalled her.

  “Leave it,” he said. “None of you would be able to come this way if I was not leading you. I, myself, am no more welcome than you, but I have the passwords and know the way.”

  The forest closed in around them. The air grew warmer and the trees had leaves, as if spring had come to the mountains here and not lower down, which didn’t make any sense at all. Rhiann knew better than to ask Taliesin about it. Branches arched overhead, extinguishing any chance of light penetrating their thick cover. In response, Taliesin whispered something in a language Rhiann didn’t know, and a little light appeared at the end of his staff.

  He walked forward steadily, chanting under his breath. Rhiann could just make out the words: “How thick its veil? How wide its mouth? What the size of its stones? Who bends the trees so crooked? What fumes may be about their stems?” Danger and mystery surrounded him. “This is why I’ve been sent,” Taliesin had said. What Rhiann had not asked, was by whom?

  She was feeling very solemn until Taliesin spoke aloud to everyone. “Did you know that a sidhe can’t hurt you when you’re carrying a light?”

  “And why would that be?” Rhiann said.

  “I’ve heard about that,” Rhun said from the rear. “It’s true, but it just depends on how fast you’re running away from him as you carry it.”

  Hywel snorted into his sleeve and Rhiann whirled around. “You’re jesting? Now?”

  “I’ve got another one,” Rhun said. “What do you get when you cross a demon with a snail?”

  “I don’t know,” Goronwy said, “but it would really slow him down!”

  “Goronwy!” Rhiann said.

  “Cade would be laughing too,” Rhun said. “What can you do if you’re him but laugh?”

  “How about this?” Dafydd said. “What happened to the demon who ate a sheep?”

  Rhiann rolled her eyes. She’d been in the company of these men for days now and had never seen this side of them. Of course, she’d not often been alone with them without Cade.

  Hywel chuckle
d. “He felt baaaaaaaaad.”

  “That’s good, Hywel,” Taliesin said, laughter in his voice. It was he, of course who’d started it all in the first place.

  Rhun turned to Rhiann. “Many nights when Cade and I were alone on our travels we’d challenge each other with such amusements.”

  In this state of irreverence, the companions at last reached the base of a great, mounded hill that rose up in front of them. The sight of it brought them to a halt, and they immediately sobered.

  A massive black castle, deserving of the name ‘Ddu’, sat at the top of the hill. Torches lit a road that twisted around the hill, to disappear around the backside of the castle, only to reappear in the front again, further up, making a giant spiral. The gatehouse too was lit, and above it flew two black flags with golden ships embroidered on them.

  “And when we searched for Cadwaladr, foreboding in our hearts, except we few, none rose up from the fortress on the black peak,” Taliesin chanted.

  “How do we get into that?” Goronwy said.

  “We will enter as guests of the castle itself,” Taliesin said. “Long ago, I set the tokens of warding around it. The castle knows me and its grace will allow me to go forward, along with any companions who enter with me. We will pass unseen by the beings who inhabit it.”

  “We’re just going to walk in and take Cade out?” Rhun said in disbelief. “This is the best plan I’ve ever heard of.”

  “The six of us are given permission to enter and leave,” Taliesin said, “but the castle views Cadwaladr as a stranger. If it were a simple matter to walk in and bring Cadwaladr out, I would have done this alone. You are here because there may be a fight before we’re through.” He motioned for everyone to tie the horses to the trees and leave them.

  Goronwy grinned. “I’m glad I’m good for something.”

  “Who owns this castle?” Hywel said.

  “Arawn, Lord of the Underworld.” Then Taliesin began to walk up the long spiraling pathway.

  The rest of the company stared at his retreating back. It was Rhun who managed to find words first. He leapt after Taliesin, catching up to him in two long strides. “The entrance to the Underworld is within this castle?”