Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

She looked around to find someone to sit with hoping to see a familiar face and feeling a little lost without Ruadan nearby. Arthur was not among the scattered gathering; Mar’h and Balor were eating in silence and neither seemed particularly approachable; Leah was nowhere to be seen; Ethain was chatting to Elowen and Tomas and Morgund was missing too. She remembered what Ruadan had said about Morgund and somewhere at the back of her mind she connected his absence with Leah’s.

  She ate her breakfast miserably, thinking of her dead husband and daughter. Those around her were just as quiet. When she had finished she returned the bowl, nodding to Mar’h and Balor as she passed them, and wandered out of the camp. She walked through the trees with her arms folded and her head lowered feeling drained and empty; almost everything that had constituted her life had been taken away from her and it left a hollowness, a deep well that echoed with sadness and despair every time she thought about her family.

  She realised she hadn’t felt anything like this low for the last twenty years, not since leaving the war band, not since Arthur had left her. The comparison made her recoil in self-admonishment, horrified that she could compare her current loss to the one of twenty years ago. Yet, at the time, it had affected her in just such a manner – so much so that she had left Britain and married Andala, a gentle, caring man who couldn’t have been more different from the man Arthur was; and now she faced the choice of returning to Britain and Arthur’s war band.

  She eventually found him where she had last seen him, standing beyond the trees and overlooking the dark expanse of woodland below. She stood on the edge of the copse, uncertain whether or not to approach him. He turned to look at her and she walked to his side.

  A light wind was gently blowing from the West and the chill made her eyes water as she left the shelter of the trees. The skies were overcast, heavy and grey, and there was already rain in the air. The breeze ruffled her hair as she shot a quick glance at Arthur’s face, trying to determine his mood. He seemed distant, either lost in memories or weighing the options ahead. Ceinwen was unsure how to start, if she was going to rejoin the war band then she needed some questions answered first; she needed to put the past firmly in the past.

  ‘Have you been standing here long, Arthur?’ she asked.

  He nodded, ‘I’ve been thinking about how many times Merdynn and I travelled through the Ghost Woods and into the Veiled City. He was known and accepted among the Cithol but on the last visit they asked that I never return, either alone or with any other. Until now I have kept their wish and not even spoken about them but the time is coming when these woods will no longer provide a haven for them.’

  Arthur continued staring out over the shadowed woodland below them. It spread east and west as far as they could see and stretched north to the rim of hills in the distance. They could catch glimpses of the wide river that ran through the woods and on down to the marshes beyond. It swelled each spring with the melting of the snows and flooded much of the woodland valley. Even in the twilight of the setting sun they could see the stained colours of the unshed autumn leaves.

  Ceinwen stared down into the woodlands thinking the city was well named for she could see no sign of it from where they stood. She remembered childhood tales of condemned spirits wandering lost, cursed to walk the shadowed woods and unable to ever cross into the afterlife. They were told as children that to trespass into the Veiled City was to be damned to walk with the ghosts there. She did not believe it now of course, nonetheless she felt uneasy just being this close and she knew of no one who had travelled through them, until now. She felt the first drops of rain on her face as she looked up at Arthur again and he seemed to come out of his reverie.

  ‘Will you join us?’ he asked.

  Ceinwen folded her arms and stared out over the woods trying to find the courage to ask him what she had asked herself countless times: why did he leave her all those years ago? They had been together for about two years but she had borne no children. She had heard that a woman from a Wessex fishing village had borne him a child less than a year later but she didn’t know if that was true or not.

  ‘Did you leave me because I couldn’t have children?’ Ceinwen finally asked. She was surprised how steady her voice sounded; there was no hint of accusation or reproach.

  ‘It was all a long time ago. We were little more than children ourselves at the time.’

  ‘Nonetheless, I deserve an answer.’

  ‘Then your answer is yes,’ Arthur replied, turning to look directly at her. It was far from the whole truth but it was the answer that Ceinwen was expecting and she seemed satisfied by it.

  Arthur shifted his weight and leaning heavily on his longbow he turned away from the woods below, ‘We’ll make for Caer Cadarn, perhaps Merdynn will be there. Morgund can follow behind us with Ethain, Tomas and Elowen and take the villagers onto the Westway. We’ll meet up with them at Caer Sulis for the festival and the council.’

  Ceinwen nodded, relieved to have asked the question and equally relieved that Arthur had turned the subject back to matters at hand.

  ‘Do you want to go back and join Ruadan on the Causeway?’ he asked her.

  That was exactly what she had intended to do but now that Arthur asked her it seemed somehow cowardly. She was miserably aware that her old life was truly over and even though the thought of starting a new life filled her with fear she realised she needed a purpose, and where better to start than where she had began so many years ago.

  The fear left her eyes and she relaxed, ‘I’ll go to Caer Cadarn with you and the others – and join the war band if you think I’ll be of use.’

  Arthur watched her walk lightly back to the trees and as he laboriously followed her he noticed for the first time the smattering of rain on the cold breeze blowing in from the West.

  Within thirty minutes the band making for Caer Cadarn had left the villagers behind and were skirting around the southern fringes of the woodland. The trees here were well spaced apart and the ground between them was covered in short grass. The light breeze caused the leafed boughs to nod back and forth, whispering softly in the light rain as the riders passed below them. The first frosts of winter would follow soon after the sun slid below the eastern horizon and the gold and burnished leaves would be gone within a week or two as the trees readied themselves for the long, cold darkness. The frozen ground would be covered in snow disturbed only occasionally by the few woodland animals not passing the winter in hibernation.

  The riders kept clear of the denser woodland to their right and all but Arthur were uneasy being this close to the source of such dark myths. As they passed through the edge of the Ghost Woods they formed into two distinct groups: Mar’h, Balor and Aelfhelm were riding ahead with Arthur and Cei discussing the attacks on Eald and Branque by the Shadow Land army while Ceinwen rode with Leah. Their friendship had developed during the perennial journeys to the Haven and they had developed a mutual respect for each other’s skills. Ceinwen’s ability as a tracker and her knowledge of curative herbs and plants had impressed the younger woman just as the latter’s skilfulness with both sword and spear had impressed Ceinwen. Cerdic, who had been scouting behind, rode up at a canter and joined them.

  ‘I still can’t believe Eald and Branque have gone,’ Leah said sadly.

  ‘We never stood a chance. We had no warning of the attack at all, and even if we had it would still have been a bloody disaster. They just swept in and started slaughtering everyone in sight. They were everywhere at once. I lost everything there.’

  Cerdic brought his horse alongside them. ‘At least Ruadan got some of the villagers to safety. More than Arthur managed,’ Cerdic kept his eyes on the woods to their right as he spoke and didn’t see the flash of anger in Ceinwen’s eyes. She looked across at him and studied the young man before replying. Although he was only a young warrior he was highly regarded among the Anglians. Like most of his people his straw-coloured hair was encircled at his forehead by a bronze band and he held his head high as
he scanned the woods. He had the pride-fed swagger of confidence about him, a certain assuredness in the set of his beardless but strong jaw and she took an instant and strong dislike to him.

  ‘Arthur was one, there were at least five-hundred of the attackers,’ she finally replied.

  ‘Yet he spirited himself away,’ Cerdic said still not looking at her.

  Ceinwen took a deeper breath to calm herself before replying, ‘Well, the next time a five-hundred strong army arrives at my door I’ll be sure to petition the king to send for you to defeat them.’

  Cerdic finally turned to look at her, ‘I meant no offence, just that I wouldn’t have left the villagers defenceless.’

  ‘Then you’d have died with them,’ she replied through clenched teeth.

  ‘Such is a warrior’s duty.’

  Ceinwen was furious, ‘It has never been a warrior’s duty to die needlessly, and it certainly isn’t a warlord’s. Clearly a distinction you don’t appreciate. Perhaps you’d better think on that and take a care with your words, others would have killed you for what you’ve just said. Your vaunted bravery may stretch to accuse me of cowardice but if you think for even a moment that Arthur is a coward then please, ride ahead and tell him so, he’s not far ahead – just out of earshot.’

  Aware of the insults and seeing hands were on sword hilts, Leah rode between them saying, ‘Enough enemies behind us without making more for the road ahead.’

  It was a common saying among the Anglians and it served to calm the two protagonists but it did not make the peace. Without another word Cerdic spurred his horse and rode ahead.

  ‘Don’t take offence Ceinwen, he’s young, proud and hot-headed but he’s a good man.’

  ‘And that’s the way he’ll die if any of the Wessex hear him say that again.’

  Leah was by no means a natural peacemaker but she regarded them both as friends and did not wish to see them set against each other. She reached out and put her hand over Ceinwen’s saying, ‘He meant nothing. Arthur’s a strange man to us. He’s not like the other Wessex warriors, we understand them. But Arthur’s different.’

  ‘That’s why he’s our warlord and why we’ll need him in the months before us,’ Ceinwen said, rolling her shoulders and letting the anger drain from her.

  ‘Truth of it is that he makes us nervous, there’s so many stories about him – he faced down one of our previous warlords and more or less the whole war band.’

  ‘I know, Leah. My brother was there that night and neither he nor any other from the Wessex would have dared thought about crossing him. No one would, not when the killing mood’s on him.

  ‘Our last warlord, Saltran, was a right bastard – he lorded it over Wessex like a king, and not a good king either. After one particularly bloody incident in a Wessex village Arthur decided it had to stop and he challenged him for the leadership. Arthur wasn’t a great deal older then than Cerdic is now, and it all happened a few years after I’d left the war band, but Ruadan told me what happened.

  ‘Saltran laughed at the challenge. He was a bear of a man, vicious and cruel, and next to him Arthur didn’t seem to be much more than a boy. The combat was held outside the hall on Whitehorse Hill under a late autumn moon. Saltran chose an axe as his weapon but Arthur chose no weapon, he just faced him in the circle empty-handed. No one gave anything for his chances and no one could understand why he chose to stand with no weapon. Ruadan implored him to at least take his sword but he would not do so. The challenge lasted fifteen minutes, every move that Saltran made, every swing or feint, Arthur anticipated it. Saltran cursed and goaded Arthur at every turn but it was the silent Arthur who was doing the taunting. Finally Arthur ended it and though Saltran begged for his life, Arthur killed him slowly, using Saltran’s own axe to hack him to pieces. And he took his time too, hacking him limb from limb.

  ‘Ruadan told me this and swears every word is true, he says he’s never seen anything so truly frightening or such cold, deliberate cruelty in all his life. They had all seen worse, of course, but that was in the fury and rage of battle and not like this. Ruadan called it a dispassionate hatred, the coldest killing he ever witnessed.

  ‘I remember Ruadan trying to explain why Arthur had acted so coldly, he said that when the challenge had started the gathered warriors had bayed for blood, but as each minute passed one by one they fell silent. By the end the bloodlust of the whole war band had drained away to appalled silence. When Arthur had finally finished his butchering he looked around at the silent warriors and what truly frightened Ruadan was that it seemed to him that Arthur wanted to continue, that he was only just getting started. Fearless warriors stepped backwards and stared at the ground when Arthur looked at them. Then he quietly asked if there were any other challenges. There weren’t. And there never will be. Saltran had led a bloody and violent life and he died as he had lived.’

  Leah was quiet for a moment before replying, ‘I’ve heard different versions of the same story at feasts in our hall – one claimed it lasted four hours and there were ten challenges, that Merdynn had given him a magic sword and he had killed all ten challengers - yet the truth is a better tale. Strange that he and Cei should be such friends when they seem so different. Cei’s anything but cold, he’s well liked by everyone, anyone can just talk to him – we’d follow him into hell if he asked.’

  ‘They are different. Arthur wouldn’t ask us to follow, he’d just expect it of us – and we would follow but we’d believe we’d be coming back too. But in other ways they are strangely similar. The only people I’ve ever seen truly comfortable with Arthur are Cei and Merdynn, and his sister, Trevenna, of course. I’ve known Cei since childhood and love him like a brother, and don’t misunderstand me here – he’s a great warrior – but if there was one person I’d want to be near me in a hall that’s being attacked by hundreds, well, it’d be Arthur.’

  Leah frowned.

  ‘What?’ Ceinwen asked.

  ‘Nothing. Just a bit a surprised to hear you defending Arthur – and speaking so highly of him.’

  Ceinwen sighed before replying, ‘Whatever happened between us happened a long time ago and it doesn’t seem very important now, does it?’

  Leah held her hands up at Ceinwen’s tone.

  ‘Anyway,’ Ceinwen continued, ‘the same holds true about who I’d want to be leading us against this new enemy. From what Ruadan has told me over the years, I gather that Arthur’s become an even more ruthless bastard and I think we’re going to need someone like that. Arthur and Merdynn - we’ll need them both.’

  ‘Gods, Arthur and Merdynn, now there’s a pair to give anyone nightmares,’ Leah smiled and shuddered over-dramatically, but she wasn’t entirely jesting.

  ‘If they belong in nightmares then their time is coming. I think he believes the Shadow Land armies want the whole of Middangeard destroyed and if he’s right then you’d do better to put your faith in Arthur and Merdynn than the king and all the chieftains.’

  ‘That and these,’ Leah replied, patting the sword at her side and the long spear cradled in her saddle. Ceinwen nodded her agreement.

  After a few minutes Leah asked, ‘Everyone’s curious how Arthur got out alive. He fought his way out, didn’t he? How many did he kill?’

  Ceinwen didn’t answer immediately. She was depressed by having to acknowledge that Leah, whom she liked, was just the same as the other warriors – more concerned with how many of the enemy had been killed rather than what had happened to her village and family. She realised this judgement was unfair but couldn’t help wondering if she had made a mistake in thinking she could rejoin the war band after so many years. Leah was still looking at her, expecting an answer.

  ‘I don’t know – I wasn’t counting,’ she finally replied. Leah looked disappointed and Ceinwen felt a little guilty at her harsh words so added, ‘Perhaps fifteen, maybe twenty. Maybe more, I don’t know really. He certainly saved me, another few seconds and I’d have been speared.’ And I would be at peace now w
ith my family, she thought. They rode on in silence.

  *

  It took them three days to reach Caer Cadarn, their stronghold on Whitehorse Hill. They had followed the edge of the Ghost Woods until they struck the River Isis that wound its way on through the shadowed woodlands. They followed the Isis some miles west upstream and away from the woodlands before fording it and joining the Westway. The Westway was busy with various villages on the move, their stores and belongings all piled onto wains and being carted west to Caer Sulis where they would be re-organised before heading on to the Haven. They continually met groups who they knew from previous Gatherings. The news of the attacks on Eald and Branque had spread all along the Westway. Speculation about the Belgae villages was rife and villagers constantly stopped them asking for information on what had happened beyond the Causeway. The general rumour was that the Uathach had raised an army and, knowing that the Anglian and Wessex villages were too well protected, had gone across the sea in boats to raid there. Some took it as confirmation of the ill tidings that the Wessex and Anglian Warlords rode together to Caer Sulis. Others were reassured by seeing their warlords riding to the West, seeing it as a sign dispelling the rumours that the Uathach army had already crossed the Causeway. All the warriors noticed that none of the villagers on the Westway were tarrying and the customary festive air was replaced with a palpable anxiety. Everyone was hurrying to get to the safety of Caer Sulis.

  They followed the increasingly busy Westway for about sixty miles then turned north along the Ridgeway up onto the Downs and towards the Whitehorse where the Wessex warriors had their main base. It was situated in the north of their territory as the major threat to their lands came from the Uathach of the North, although in recent years the Uathach had only raided the northwest Mercian territory and the northern Anglian lands. There were other, smaller camps deeper into Wessex near the main settlements and strung along the coast but these were only garrisoned in the summer months. Caer Cadarn was populated all year round by those not on duties elsewhere, and by their families and the various craftsmen necessary to support a war band.