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

by Sarah Woodbury

  Cade reached into his pocket, pulled out an apple he’d appropriated from the kitchen stores, and gave it to Cadfan. The pantry steward would have been horrified that Cade was wasting human food on a horse. But then, he doesn’t have to waste food on me now, does he? Cade thought it a fair trade.

  After having to watch Rhiann with Dafydd the last two days, Cade knew he was feeling sorry for himself and tried to shake off the feeling. It was wasted emotion to cry about something he himself had encouraged. He’d made it clear to Rhiann that she should look for love in someone other than him. He could hardly blame her, then, for doing exactly that. She’d fought beside Dafydd at Llanllugan, been thrown in with him almost constantly since then, and it was clear they enjoyed each other’s company. Dafydd was a good-looking man, a knight, the son of a king, and human. She’d chosen to ride with him instead of Cade; she’d be crazy to look at Cade instead of Dafydd.

  With a last pat on Cadfan’s neck, Cade exited the stables and walked down the steps to the postern gate, which was located in a gully just behind it, sunk into the curtain wall. More than one person had commented on the location of the secret door when Cynyr refortified Bryn y Castell, but he’d insisted that the gate was for leaving the fort, not entering it. A horse could navigate the stairs if it had to, but enemy soldiers who attempted to gain access to the fort through it would find themselves fighting an awkward battle, uphill, upstairs, and constricted behind the stables.

  “I’ll knock as usual when I want to get back in,” Cade said to the man-at-arms who guarded the door.

  “Yes, my lord,” he said. “Cradoc will relieve me in an hour, but I’ll let him know you’ve left.”

  Once outside the castle, Cade allowed his senses to expand. He caught the scent of a recent kill further up the mountain from the fort. Perhaps a bear had gotten himself a deer? Cade wasn’t really interested in taking on a bear, and instead of moving towards the scent, took a step down the hill toward the encampment. If there were demons nearby, they’d be drawn to the easy pickings of tired or wounded men and their hangers-on.

  Then Cade stopped himself. He looked back towards the woods, stilling. He pushed his senses harder, and ultimately changed his mind. He skirted the wooden palisade that wrapped all the way around the fort and headed north, across the cleared space that acted as a buffer zone between Bryn y Castell and the woods.

  Cade stepped carefully through the trail-less bracken, splitting his attention between the ground in front of him and what might lie ahead. He reached the forest without incident and slowed as he entered it, listening hard. A creek that sprang from higher up the mountain splashed and gurgled just ahead of him, running between craggy rocks and cuts in the hillside. He and Rhun had cavorted in its pools and amidst its waterfalls every summer of their youth.

  Cade sensed activity to the west and began to move from tree to tree in that direction. As he did so, the pull of life grew stronger, along with his dismay. He could confirm that there were humans in the woods, for he could sense the difference between them and animals. There could be any of a number of explanations for why a human might be in these woods, but most of them boded ill, both for the human and for Cade’s peace of mind.

  As he moved faster and more urgently towards the source, the power grew in him—a yearning he’d always struggled to hold in check—but not today. Today, his mind remained clear. He placed a hand on Caledfwlch. Whatever unfortunate circumstance had brought him to Caer Ddu, it had allowed him to find the ancient sword. Cade could only feel grateful for that. Arianrhod may have cursed him, but she’d also laid opportunity at his feet.

  Cade stepped around a tree and spied the first of the sentries he’d been stalking. Cade had moved quietly, so remained undetected, especially since the man had taken that inopportune moment to relieve himself against a tree. Cade stayed in the shadows, watching him, wanting to make sure he wasn’t one of Rhun’s men who might have arranged an illicit rendezvous.

  When he’d finished, the man faced south, giving Cade a good look at his gear and the front of his surcoat. He recognized neither the man nor the emblem: a lion grasping a branch in one paw and an axe in the other, gold on red. The symbol of Caer Dathyl in the reign of Cade’s uncle, Iaen, had been a lion’s head with the same colors. This banner was similar enough that it raised Cade’s hackles. He couldn’t let this man slip from his grasp but decided not to kill him right away.

  The man had tucked an axe, the handle well worn with use, into his belt. He also had that particular set of one’s shoulders that indicates a fighting man. Cade pulled a knife from his waist and slid behind him, careful not to underestimate his opponent. If the man could fight, he could hold Cade at bay and not allow him to touch him. Cade couldn’t use his power to kill from a distance.

  “One sound and you’re dead.”

  The man froze, Cade’s knife to his throat and Cade’s left hand holding his chin at an awkward angle.

  “Nod if there are more of you camped in these woods,” Cade said.

  The man nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  “How many?” Cade said. “Tell me quietly.”

  “Two dozen,” the man said.

  “Why are you here?”

  “For Lord Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon,” he said.

  “You think to find him here?” Cade said. “At Bryn y Castell?”

  “Our orders were to set up a camp that would allow us to overlook both the fort and the Roman road. We were to stay here until Lord Cadwaladr and his men rode out of Bryn y Castell. We were told he would do so soon.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Cade said.

  “We are men of the west,” the man said.

  “Caer Dathyl?”

  “N-n-n-o-o,” the man said, closing up. Cade didn’t believe him.

  “And who might your lord be?” The man didn’t answer. Cade shook him slightly and when he still didn’t respond, drew the knife across his throat enough to draw blood. “Tell me.”

  “It’s worth more than my life to say,” the man said.

  “It will be your life if you don’t,” Cade said. “So I’ll make it easy for you. Teregad?”

  The man stiffened at the name, but still didn’t answer.

  “Very well,” Cade said, “are there demons among you?”

  The man shivered involuntarily, but had given up answering, perhaps realizing that whether he answered or not, Cade couldn’t allow him to live. Power shot through Cade and the man dropped to the ground. If nothing else, this method of killing was more efficient than using his knife, and had the benefit of not spilling blood on the ground or on Cade.

  Cade moved on silent feet toward the camp ahead. Once he saw it, he backtracked, circling around it to find the other sentries. In all, there were four, each one posted opposite the other at the cardinal directions. Was that significant or just convenient? Cade didn’t know much about the rules and rituals of pagan worship, even if he was sidhe. Rhun wasn’t a Christian, but he wasn’t much of a pagan either, and Taliesin seemed to have his own set of rules he kept to himself.

  In a moment, it didn’t matter anyway, because all the sentries were dead. Cade’s body hummed with a silent satisfaction that even the possession of Caledfwlch couldn’t dampen. How could he remain uncorrupted when the only time he felt truly whole and well was after he’d taken a man’s life?

  Putting the uncomfortable truth aside for now, Cade surveyed the camp in the clearing from behind a tree. Rhun wouldn’t be happy that they’d managed to set up so close to Bryn y Castell without him knowing it, but they’d chosen their spot well. The camp sat on the northern end of a shallow gorge, tucked underneath a slope that wasn’t particularly accessible from any trail or road. Midnight had come and gone and the camp was quiet, with only a single fire burning in its center—to diminish the possibility that someone from Bryn y Castell would detect them.

  Too late.

  Unfortunately, the source of the smell of blood was now apparent. A dead man had been staked near the
fire. He’d been tortured in a similar manner to Cadfael, whose death must have seemed like a mercy in the end. A woman, Enaid, whom Cade knew well was tied beside him. She was one of the kitchen servants at Bryn y Castell, perhaps twice Cade’s age. She was alive, although her head sagged forward and there was blood on her dress.

  Cade contemplated retreating to the fort for reinforcements and then thought better of it. Odds were, one of his men-at-arms or companions would lose his life in the fight and Cade didn’t care for that notion. Instead, he decided to get inside the camp, rescue the woman, and get out without being detected. Cade was usually good at that sort of thing. Because he had neither heartbeat nor breath, men found it hard to sense his presence. He also didn’t leave a scent—that humans could detect anyway—and if he disciplined himself to silent travel, could walk unseen.

  In Cade’s hand, Caledfwlch glistened all on its own, as if a light shone from inside it. Better it than me. Cade gripped the hilt firmly. With the sword in one hand and his belt knife in the other, he walked out of the woods and crept among the sleeping men, his senses on high alert. He bent to his left as a man stirred in his sleep but he didn’t wake.

  Of the twenty beings on the ground, only three were demons. They were grouped together, sleeping to the left of the fire, opposite the woman. None were as Cade was—he could tell that from their horns, but also because they slept—and given their lack of attention, Cade wasn’t impressed with their brains either.

  Cade reached Enaid. He had to hold her awkwardly with his sword arm while with his left hand he cut through the rope that tied her to the post. It worried him what information her captors might have gotten from her or the man. She would know, if nothing else, that Cade was sidhe.

  He stowed his belt knife in its sheath and allowed the woman to slump against him fully. She still didn’t wake and when Cade realized he wasn’t going to get any help from her, he bent down and threw her over his shoulder. She moaned. It was a small sound but it set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. Fearing detection, Cade walked quickly out of the circle of sleeping men. He was six strides into the woods before he stopped, thinking better of his actions. Cade didn’t like it, but those demons couldn’t be allowed to live. He wasn’t too happy about the continued existence of the enemy humans either.

  Cade lay Enaid down, hoping she’d remain unconscious for now, and returned to the camp. With an inward sigh, he opened himself completely to his sidhe self. The power coursed through him, channeling to Caledfwlch which lit up the night, a star in his hand. Another few steps and he was at the fire again. Trying to remain as business-like as possible, he slid his knife under the first demon’s chin. Beheading was the surest way of killing one such as he. Cade had learned during the last two years that with demons, it was best not to take chances. The creature didn’t stir as it died.

  Cade turned to the second demon. This one had a horn rather than a nose, which made Cade wonder where he kept his sense of smell. Cade slit his throat. Unfortunately, this prompted an eerie whistling sound to emit from the demon’s mouth, which grew louder instead of fading as he died. Panicked at the noise, Cade swung Caledfwlch and severed the demon’s head from his body. Unfortunately, his action came too late.

  The third demon threw himself to his feet. He was much shorter than the others, which is why Cade had saved him for last.

  “You are sidhe?” he said. Even though he wasn’t human, the astonishment in his voice was recognizable.

  “So it seems.” Cade drove at him, meeting the demon’s axe with Caledfwlch. Even among creatures of the night, one such as he should not exist.

  “Why do you fight me?” the demon said, recovering from his surprise. “If he knew of you, Mabon would want you at his side.”

  “Mabon, is it?” Cade parried another blow. “Why should I follow him?”

  “He will reward all who stand with him against the human scum.”

  “You fight with humans,” Cade said.

  “I lead them,” he said. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “I can rule humans without Mabon’s help,” Cade said. The weapons clashed again, and the demon forced Cade to spin away. He rounded the fire, putting it between them.

  By now, the commotion had woken the humans, who clambered to their feet. “He’s mine!” the demon shouted. “Stay back!” He held out one hand to stop their progress. Then, with a show of immense strength, he leaped over the fire and landed hard right in front of Cade. Cade backed up, holding the demon at bay with Caledfwlch and trying not to step on the detritus around the campfire.

  They circled each other, two sword lengths apart, sizing one another up. “You belong in the Underworld,” Cade said. “I will send you back to it.”

  The demon bared his teeth. “It is true that it has been long since I felt the wind on my face. My lord Arawn has released many of us. More come every day. Still, I don’t understand why you want to stop us, but even if you try, you will fail.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Cade parried a blow from the demon’s axe and then barreled into him with his shoulder. The force of Cade’s assault knocked the demon backwards into the fire. He roared with pain and rolled out of it, ripping at his clothing. Cade didn’t wait for him to recover and just ran him through the heart with Caledfwlch.

  Cade had achieved his goal of three dead demons, but unfortunately, now found himself in the center of a ring of seventeen men, each with a weapon. These were no Saxons either, as half a dozen of the men had bows. Cade still wore his special armor, but didn’t like the thought of becoming a pincushion. In an earlier time, the fight would have left him breathing hard, spent. That wasn’t the case anymore, but he still opted for negotiation.

  “I am Cadwaladr, son of the Pendragon.” He spread his arms wide, though still with Caledfwlch burning in his hand. “It is I whom you seek.”

  A burly man stepped forward, his pike pointed at Cade’s mid-section. “I don’t believe you. Lord Cadwaladr is not evil. You must be Rhun, Cynyr’s son.”

  His conclusion left Cade momentarily speechless. He stuttered at him, trying to collect his thoughts and managed: “What do you want with Cadwaladr?”

  “To kill him.” The man raised his sword. “But first, we’ll kill you, demon!”

  The man rushed at Cade. With a roar, the others followed. An arrow caught Cade’s left hip but even as he ripped it from his flesh, he came in under the first attacker’s guard. Cade slashed his body from shoulder to waist, and his death left a gap in the ring of men. Cade slid through the space and ran flat out for the woods.

  “You, Cadwaladr, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Rhun, stepping out from behind the nearest tree, “are an idiot.”

  Thwtt, thwtt, thwtt. Arrows flew from bows to either side of them as the men-at-arms Cade had refused to summon shot into the enemy company. Rhun had the element of surprise going for him and it only took a quick assessment of their precarious position on the part of the men from Caer Dathyl before the retreat was on. Mabon’s men—or Teregad’s—or whosever they were—pedaled backwards, and then outright turned and ran. With a roar, Rhun’s men chased after them, weapons raised high.

  “I posted others on the road,” Rhun said, “in case they try to leave the woods.”

  “Did you find Enaid?” Cade said.

  “Enaid?” Rhun said.

  Cade nodded and led Rhun a quarter of the distance around the perimeter of the camp to where the woman he’d rescued still lay. Rhun crouched beside her and brushed a stray hair that had fallen across her face. “She’s been with our family since before we were born.”

  “She’s been tortured,” Cade said. “Along with that poor fellow by the fire.”

  “Why didn’t you summon help, Cade?” Rhun said, still staring down at Enaid.

  “Honestly, my only thought was that I didn’t want to be responsible for any more deaths from Bryn y Castell.”

  “So you figured you’d just die instead.” Rhun shook his head. “You�
�re to be the King of Gwynedd, Cadwaladr. You walk in the footsteps of Arthur. It isn’t your place to fight and die. From now on, you need to leave that to others.” He held out a rag and Cade carefully wiped the blood from Caledfwlch, not looking at Rhun.

  “Is Rhiann here?” Cade said.

  “No,” Rhun said. “I didn’t tell her—and a good thing too. She’d have your hide.”

  “I can take care of the dressing down for her.” Taliesin stepped out of the dark.

  Cade turned to him. “Did you know these men were here?”

  “My gift doesn’t work that way. I did have a vision of this.” Taliesin gestured to the now deserted campfire, “but I dismissed it as a false dream, not believing you could be this stupid.”

  Rhun studied Cade. “Did you ... kill some of them, not just the demons?”

  “Yes,” Cade said.

  “Ah, so that’s it,” he said. “Guilt, coupled with invincibility is never a good combination, especially not in you.”

  “I did have a plan.” Cade heard the defensive tone in his voice but couldn’t help it. “I was just going to kill the demons but then ...” He stopped, realizing his friends weren’t going to like what he was about to say.

  “And then what? You thought you’d challenge the humans one by one to single combat?”

  “No,” Cade said. “One of the sentries told me that they were here for me, so I assumed Mabon wanted me captive again. I was going to offer to come with them, if only to discover where he’s hiding now.”

  “I see.” Taliesin nodded. “But that’s not what Mabon wants is it?”

  “No,” Cade said. “He wants my head.”

  _______________________

  Thank you for reading The Last Pendragon Saga! Song of the Pendragon, the third installment in The Last Pendragon Saga, is available at Amazon!

  For more information about Wales in the Dark and Middle Ages or to sign up to be notified whenever I have a new release, please see my web page: www.sarahwoodbury.com