Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  ‘No, I merely had a dream, just taking some caution.’

  ‘What was the dream?’ Ceinwen asked anxiously.

  Arthur looked at her but did not answer. Ceinwen suppressed a shudder and resisted the urge to make the habitual sign to ward off evil spirits. Below them someone had struck up a lively tune on a lyre and the more drunken began to caper and dance in a small space before the raised part of the hall. Ceinwen recognised Jac dancing with one the kitchen girls and smiled despite her concern. She was a good-looking girl and holding Jac’s hands they had began to spin in a tight circle. Others gathered around them and started to clap in rhythm to the lyre. It ended inevitably with them both crashing to the straw covered floor and, much to Jac’s obvious delight, with the girl sprawled on top of him. The others helped them up and the space was cleared for some more accomplished dancers to pick up where they had left off.

  Andala returned and took the empty seat next to Ceinwen and nodded across to Arthur to indicate it was done. Arthur forced himself to appear relaxed and started to eat from the piled foods on the table but he drank sparingly. Ceinwen heard from Andala what Arthur had ordered and her concern returned. Andala drained his beaker and refilled it then suitably emboldened, leant across Ceinwen to make himself heard above the music and spoke to Arthur, ‘Can I ask you a question that’s troubled me for years, Arthur?’

  Arthur turned his attention to him and after a moment said, ‘He was guilty, why think more on it?’

  ‘That’s just it! How did you even know what I was going to ask? How did you know he was guilty when it was just my word against his?’

  Ceinwen watched them puzzled, and then it dawned on her that Andala was talking about the incident with the warrior and the girl on the journey west years ago.

  She wanted to stop her husband asking any further questions but Arthur was already replying, ‘And the girl’s word.’

  ‘Even so, she could have had an axe to grind.’

  ‘And did she? Did you?’ Arthur half-smiled at Andala as he asked.

  ‘No. Every word we said was true but you weren’t to know that.’

  ‘I did know that.’

  Andala ran out of courage to carry on and drank deeply from his beaker of wine. Ceinwen tried to indicate to her husband to drop the subject but in a rare misunderstanding Andala thought she was encouraging him and he continued, ‘Some say that Merdynn gave you the Gift of Sight at your birth.’

  ‘Do they? It’s what I can’t see that concerns me and the only gift Merdynn ever gave me was a cursed horse.’

  ‘That you can see into people’s hearts...’ Andala persevered before his courage ran out completely.

  Arthur turned to face him, ‘Merdynn gave me no such gift.’

  Andala tried one last time, ‘Then how could you know, how could you be so certain so quickly?’

  ‘Enough. Breagan was guilty. There’s been no such incident again from any of my warriors. Nor will there be.’ The subject was closed though not Andala’s curiosity. Ceinwen rested a hand on Andala’s arm to make sure he understood not to ask anymore.

  Arthur stood up and said directly to Ceinwen, ‘Heat some broth for those on the walls and get someone to take it to them, and bring them extra winter cloaks.’ With that he made his way off the raised area and strode through the increasingly inebriated villagers to the main door. As he left the hall a dense swirl of snowflakes circled inside the doorway. Ceinwen issued the necessary instructions.

  Arthur could barely see fifty yards ahead of him in the gloom and swirling snow. Eventually he saw a man huddled in the shelter of a doorway. He crossed over to him. There was some heat coming from the blacksmith’s forge behind him and he had a timer glass on the floor beside him.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Arthur asked once he was in the lee of the wind.

  ‘Colban, my Lord.’

  ‘Well Colban, is everyone signalling on time?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘Yes Lord, they’re due to signal again now,’ Colban motioned to the timer on the floor, its sands having run through the glass. He picked up a brand, which had a tubular, holed metal extension to protect the flames from the wind, and they both walked out into the exposed square. One by one the watchers signalled and he returned the signal. They retired to the lee of the blacksmith’s and Colban turned the timer.

  ‘Stay alert Colban. I’ll make sure that you and your family get good quarters in Caer Sulis to make up for missing your festival. If any signal fails to be returned don’t go to see if he’s fallen asleep but come to me straight away. It’s very important you understand that. Do you?’

  ‘Yes, Lord.’

  ‘And call me Arthur, I’m not your Lord.’

  ‘Yes, Lord,’ he replied automatically then realised what he had just said. They smiled and Arthur fought his way to the East wall. Behind him the first of the broths and cloaks arrived.

  Breward was not delighted about being asked by Ceinwen to have to ferry supplies out to the watchers – he had been making good progress with Caja he thought. He had finally managed to convince her that he did not think she was either too young or incapable of helping to organise the Eald villages. He did have to agree he was just probably jealous of not being asked himself even though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind but if it repaired some of the damage then he did not mind too much. He saw Arthur talking to one of the watchers as he carried around the supplies and was soon back inside the warmth of the hall. He felt the contrast sharply. Outside was gloomy, bleak and cold – a far cry from the merry making inside. He looked round for Caja and to his relief saw she was with her parents at the top table and not chatting to any of the lads from the other villages gathered here. He made his way with difficulty back up the hall and sat down heavily at the table.

  ‘Done?’ Ceinwen asked.

  ‘Yes, and it’s wretched out there. Only the gods know why he’s decided to put watchers out in this weather, he must be mad,’ Breward said and helped himself to a spare cup of wine from the table.

  ‘Did you see him out there?’ Andala asked.

  ‘Yes, he was on the eastern wall.’

  ‘And did you ask him why he set the watchers?’ Andala queried.

  ‘No – it was windy, couldn’t hear a thing,’ Breward explained.

  Narlos tapped Breward on the arm, ‘That’s his wine your drinking lad.’

  Breward nearly dropped it in his haste to put it back down and Caja laughed. He looked shamefaced at his haste but smiled broadly when Caja came across the table and sat in his lap offering him her wine.

  ‘Are you going to dance, Caja?’ Ceinwen asked.

  ‘Shall I?’ Caja asked Breward who groaned and said,

  ‘You will anyway – best get it done.’

  Caja jumped up and skipped back to the kitchen area where she had put her daisy-chain circlet ready for the dance. Arthur was making his way back up the hall having completed his circuit of the walls. Breward quickly refilled Arthur’s wine cup and then theatrically examined his fingernails. Narlos laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

  Arthur took his seat and Ceinwen said, ‘You’re just in time to see our daughter dance, Arthur.’

  ‘And does she dance as well as her mother used to?’ he asked.

  ‘You may judge that.’

  The bard plucked a sequence of notes on the lyre and a tambourine rattled as Caja made her way barefoot to the small area before the top tables. She wore the daisy chain circlet around her long red hair that hung down the back of her simple white dress. She smiled up at Breward as the first chords of the song started on the lyre and, as the tambourine set the rhythm, she began to dance. The music grew louder, slowly developing with soft minor chords. The dance told of the sun’s slow passage to the eastern horizon, the onset of autumn and the coming of the darkness.

  Arthur sat back and leaning towards Ceinwen said, ‘Just like her mother, twenty years ago.’

  Ceinwen stared at him unsure whether he was cruelly taunting her or co
mplimenting them both; she was not the girl’s real mother, she could never have children – a fact that Arthur was all too aware of. Arthur watched the dance.

  Gradually the noise of shouting and laughing died down as more began to watch the dance. People craned for a better view as word spread that Caja was dancing. Everyone knew her mother had silenced the Great Hall at Caer Sulis many years ago with a dance that had woven a tale into the music. They wanted to be the first to see if her daughter would do the same here. As drunk as they undoubtedly were, the onlookers became spellbound. People were standing on benches and tables to get a better view.

  The funnel for the circular hearth in the centre of the hall obscured Arthur’s view of the main doorway. He did not see it open. He did not see Colban stand there panting or see him sprawl forward to the floor, arms outstretched as if someone had pushed him violently from behind. Those nearest the main doors turned in irritation to see which drunken fool had left the doors open and let the cold air sweep in. They looked at Colban sprawled face down on the floor. They saw the crow-feathered arrow protruding from between his shoulders. They stared blankly at the prone form and just could not register that he had been killed by an arrow. Fully ten seconds passed and the dance continued. Then four black armoured, squat figures thrust the double doors open and stood in the doorway, curved swords held before them. Bri, standing near the door stared at the new horror then let out a terrified scream that tore through the hall and silenced the music. Arthur jumped to his feet, sending his chair flying behind him just as the nearest attacker to Bri leapt at her with his sword already swinging through the air. The sword cut her scream dead and she fell backward, blood showering from her neck. The wooden shutters along the eastern wall were flung open and black-clad, squat figures scrambled through like locusts spilling into the hall. A dozen more appeared at the main door and the mayhem started. People were screaming and trying to get away from the doorway and from the eastern wall where still more attackers scrabbled in.

  Arthur shouted to Andala and Ceinwen, ‘Get out! Make west!’ and he leapt for the tables running down the West side of the hall, he landed and slid straight off the greasy surface into the villagers cramming themselves against the wall. He jumped back onto the tables and ran towards the main door where his sword stood against the wall.

  Breward came out of his shock and tried to make his way toward Caja. Andala took Ceinwen’s hand and pulled her toward the kitchen area where there was a small side door. There were screams coming from the kitchen and as they approached three assailants burst through, their curved swords already bloody. Andala turned and pushed Ceinwen back the way they had come as a sword took his legs from under him. Ceinwen turned in horror to see the swords hack down on her husband. She turned and fled back into the bloody chaos of the hall.

  Breward had battled his way to Caja who still did not seem to understand what was happening around her. She grabbed his hands but before either could say anything a curved sword swung down over her shoulder and cut deeply into Breward’s face. He slumped to his knees then fell forward, his bloody face smearing down Caja’s white dress. She screamed as hands snatched and held her arms and legs, dragging her back toward the eastern windows.

  Arthur reached the last table and slid to a stop. Before him the attackers were wading into the villagers, cutting a bloody swathe before them. Still more were pouring in through the doorway. He shot a look across to the other side of the hall to see even more scrambling through the windows and into the hall. There were already a hundred of them inside and a good thirty between Arthur and his sword.

  ‘Out! Out the windows and run!’ he shouted to those around him and hurled himself at the nearest wooden shutter. He flung it open and as he dived out he grabbed the wooden stake used to prop it wide. Others followed him as the slaughter continued behind them. He sprinted around the corner of the hall and joined the throng of attackers running towards the entrance. They were not looking for someone running with them and he made it to the doorway before cries went up all around him. He swung the wooden stake into the face of an attacker just behind him and sent him sprawling into those following. Lashing out with his foot he cleared the assailant just inside the doorway. He dived for his weapons and slipped his hand through the shield hold and brought it around just in time to catch the downward slash from a sword. Rolling across the earthen floor he swung his sword and the scabbard flew free and toward his attacker’s face who ducked but could not avoid the sweeping sword that followed cutting his left leg off below the knee.

  The attackers that were trying to stop the flight through the western windows began to turn to see the commotion behind them. Arthur did not hesitate, roaring he rushed at them and cut down two in as many seconds. They faltered and he lunged at another who tried to turn Arthur’s blade but was not quick enough. Arthur dragged the sword back out of the falling body.

  In front of him a single line of the attackers turned to face him, they had been pressing their slaughter on the villagers along the western side of the hall who were still desperately trying to get through the windows. Behind him a band of twenty to thirty attackers were closing on him from the doorway. The eastern side of the hall was a chaotic bloody mess with bodies everywhere and the attackers moving on to those crammed up against the West side. In the moment it took to take this in Arthur saw Ceinwen among those at the top end of the hall trying to escape the massacre through the western windows.

  He leapt at the single line ahead of him in a howling rage. The attackers were unprepared for his fury and he cut his way through. Once again he ran the length of the tables, standing on friend and foe alike as he tried to reach Ceinwen. He saw Jac as he drunkenly laid about him with a wooden stool but was already beyond him and did not see the arrow fired at close range that tore into Jac’s throat.

  As he neared Ceinwen he lost his footing on a blood soaked table and flew off crashing into a group of attackers. Before he could recover, a curved sword slashed down into his shoulder and blood flew into his face. He lashed out blindly and rolled beneath the table as more swords thumped down into the earth where he had been. Once on the other side of the table he leapt up and turned the table over as the attackers began to clamber over it. He looked to see where Ceinwen was. She was only fifteen-feet away but as he watched an attacker ran at her with a spear. At the last second she twisted away from the thrusting spear and it just missed her stomach and embedded itself in the wall. She kicked out at her attacker who staggered backwards. Arthur hurled himself at the spearman and took his head clean off with one full-blooded sweep of his sword.

  He looked at the wreckage of the hall. Where a few minutes earlier there had been feasting and dancing now there was carnage. It seemed that the only ones standing were the black armoured attackers. He turned quickly and hoisted Ceinwen through a window that already had its shutter torn off and dived after her. The freezing wind chilled him immediately and shouting for Ceinwen to follow he started for the stable by the East Gate.

  ‘Wait! My daughter, Caja!’ Ceinwen shouted and turned back to the window. Even from where she stood she could see that the panic and bloody slaughter continued unabated inside. She screamed her daughter’s name again and again.

  Arthur ran back to her and, circling her waist with one arm, half-carried and half-dragged her away from the hall. She struggled to free herself from his grip, her legs kicking in the air and still screaming for her daughter. Arthur set her down and held her at arms length.

  ‘Where was she?’ he shouted above the wind. She stared at him blankly and he had to repeat the question. She pointed back to the hall and Arthur had to reign in his impatience. ‘Whereabouts in the hall? Near the West windows?’

  Ceinwen shook her head.

  ‘Where was she when you last saw her?’

  ‘Nearer the East side,’ Ceinwen said regaining control of herself and understanding what her answer meant.

  ‘Everyone still in that hall is now dead,’ Arthur said still holding
her shoulders.

  She looked towards the hall and, as if to prove Arthur’s words, she saw someone being dragged back from the window as he tried to escape through it.

  ‘I can’t leave her, Arthur,’ she said desperately.

  An arrow flicked between their faces and they instinctively broke apart and turned to see four Adren charging towards them. Arthur met them and killed two almost instantly. He pressed forward and Ceinwen followed, stooping down to claim a sword from one of the dead. They dispatched one each but more were coming from the hall’s entrance.

  Arthur grabbed her by the arm and ran for the stables. As he neared the entrance an arrow thudded into the back of his right thigh and he crashed to the snow-covered ground. He crawled to the entrance and Ceinwen pulled him through. He looked at the arrow with blurred vision and decided he could not push it all the way through. Ceinwen came to the same conclusion and swiftly snapped off half the protruding shaft. She leapt up onto the horse and leaning down helped Arthur as he hauled himself up in the saddle behind her. He nearly passed out leaning forward to untether the reins as the remaining part of the arrow shaft caught on the saddle. He clung onto Ceinwen as she spurred the horse out of the stables. There were black-clad figures running everywhere, looting whatever they could find and setting fire to the insides of wooden buildings. There were screams and shouts still coming from inside the hall and Arthur could hear the desperate screams of a woman from one of the wooden houses across the square. Ceinwen half-turned the horse towards the screams but two arrows sped past to either side of her and she urged the horse forward again. Arthur spat on the ground and they rode out through the East Gate leaving the slaughter behind them.

  Chapter Two

  It had stopped snowing. The low, dark clouds still barrelled in from the East but the gale had subsided. They were near the top of the hill across the river from the village. Arthur clung to his horse’s neck as it stood and pawed at the snow; Ceinwen was standing some distance away, staring down at Branque.