Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  Cael gripped the man’s arms tightly, urging him to be still for Ceinwen. Arthur put a hand on Ceinwen’s shoulder and motioned her to one side.

  ‘How many died?’ he asked.

  ‘Four, Arthur.’

  ‘And Sawan?’

  Ceinwen looked puzzled until Arthur indicated the man she had been treating. She shook her head, ‘He probably won’t live. I’ll get him some powder to dull his pain.’ She made to go but Arthur reached out and held her arm.

  ‘No. We’ll need all we have this winter for those who won’t die from their wounds,’ he said.

  Ceinwen searched his eyes and dropped her voice, ‘Arthur, you can’t let him die gradually in this pain.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Ceinwen stared at him in dawning realisation.

  ‘You can’t mean... hasn’t there been enough death in this village?’

  Arthur turned from her and knelt by Sawan. He supported his head and raised him slightly.

  ‘Bid Cael farewell, Sawan, and leave with him any messages you have for your family. You’ve fought as a warrior in the Wessex war band, we’ll not forget that and we won’t forget your family. You need have no fear crossing over to the afterlife for you lived and died with honour. Make your peace, I shall return in a minute.’

  Arthur left him in Cael’s care and went to organise a funeral pyre for their dead. He returned a short while later and gestured for Cael and Ceinwen to leave them. He said a few words to Sawan and stilled his pain-wracked body with a knife to his heart. Wiping his blade on the dead man’s sleeve he lifted him up and carried him to the funeral pyre. Ceinwen watched him pass with a stricken look of disbelief.

  Arthur ordered the funeral fire to be lit. They stood around the blaze in a circle, watching sparks spiral with the smoke towards the early winter stars.

  Cei stepped across to Arthur, ‘I haven’t seen any remains of the villagers that died here,’ he said quietly, making sure Ceinwen was out of earshot.

  Arthur nodded and called Mar’h across, ‘Take some men and scout around the village – try and find where they burned or buried the villagers. And where’s Morveren?’

  Mar’h pointed to one side of the funeral pyre. Leah had started singing a song for the dead and the other Anglians joined in. Arthur strode across to Morveren. In the flickering light of the flames Arthur could see tears running down her face. He thought they were probably for Talan rather than those who had died here.

  ‘Morveren, go fetch a horse from those guarding the valley and check on the bowmen, see if they’ve captured anyone. If so, bring them under guard here,’ Arthur said.

  She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and left the funeral circle. The death song finished and Arthur raised his voice above the sound of the burning pyre, ‘Collect the Adren dead and throw them into the hall. We’ll burn it. First cut off each head and stake them in the ground near the gates.’

  Some of the warriors looked at each other uncertainly. Cerdic who was standing near Arthur said, ‘Is this necessary, Arthur?’

  Complete silence fell on the gathered warriors and the pyre seemed to burn more loudly. Arthur stared at the young Cerdic without any emotion on his face at all. Cerdic lowered his eyes to the ground.

  Arthur slowly walked up to him and put his face close to Cerdic’s, ‘Whatever I deem necessary is necessary,’ he said it quietly so that only Cerdic could hear then added in the same flat tone, ‘Do you understand this?’

  Cerdic nodded once, still keeping his eyes lowered.

  ‘Good. Then never question my orders again,’ Arthur said and turned towards the hall. He swiftly decapitated two Adren corpses, tossed their heads to one side and threw the bodies one after another into the hall. He moved on to the next two and the others joined in. Morgund and Balor went into the hall to carry out the task in there.

  ‘Doesn’t like them much does he?’ Balor said very quietly once they were inside.

  ‘You have to respect that kind of attitude,’ Morgund agreed just as quietly as they went about their work.

  ‘Thought he was going to kill that young idiot just then,’ Balor said looking around to make sure they could not be overheard.

  ‘I just hope he hasn’t,’ Morgund replied.

  Balor grunted in agreement and added, ‘He’ll live but I reckon he’s learnt not to question a warlord in a battle mood.’

  Mar’h walked past them, ashen faced, towards the doorway looking for Arthur. Balor and Morgund looked at each other puzzled.

  Mar’h found Arthur talking to Cei, ‘Arthur?’ he interrupted them, ‘I don’t think they burnt or buried the dead, at least not all of them.’

  Arthur and Cei looked at him not understanding.

  ‘Come, you’d better see.’ Mar’h led them back into the hall and over to the central hearth. He pointed at the embers still glowing brightly. Lying in the ashes and embers were bones. They could clearly see half a hand and the bones of a forearm still attached by burnt muscle and tendons. As they stared at the fire pit it became obvious more of the bones were human. Others started to gather, wondering why their warlords were staring into the remains of the fire.

  ‘What is it, Arthur?’ Trevenna said at his elbow. Then she too looked down into the ashes. She stirred them with the point of her sword, uncovering the tiny bones of a child’s foot. Her hand shot to her mouth as she realised what she was looking at. They had feasted on the children too.

  Mar’h spat to clear his mouth and then pointed to a nearby table and then into the corner of the hall. All around them were the remains of the villagers. The human bones that seemed to lie everywhere were what remained of several days worth of feasting.

  Mar’h went outside to get some fresh air and he told the others the appalling fate of the village’s children. They stepped inside, disbelieving, to witness for themselves.

  Cei held Trevenna as she silently cried for the dead children. Hers were not the only tears. Balor, unwilling to weep openly, began hacking at the Adren corpses in an uncontrolled fury. As his fury spent itself, he sank to his knees, his axe clasped limply on the floor and he stared blankly at the dry earth. The more experienced warriors stared grim-faced at the remains of the villagers; even they hadn’t seen anything like this before.

  Arthur turned to the nearest corpse, lifted it by its hair and swept its head off. He hurled it at the doorway and it crashed with such force into the doorpost that its skull split half-open. He had already picked up the next and did the same, once more hurling the head with all his might at the doorway. The others watched his cold fury as he methodically hacked the head off each remaining corpse in the hall. He turned to them and only his gray eyes showed the hatred and fury he held inside.

  ‘Get these scum out of the hall. We’ll burn it as a pyre for the dead of Branque and leave the filth along the lakeshore for the wolves and ravens.’

  He left the hall and the warriors threw the Adren bodies onto carts and hauled them down to the lake edge. Then they set about staking the heads within the gates as Arthur had said. Finally they threw dry bushels inside the hall and set it ablaze. The fire gradually took hold and eventually the flames engulfed the building. Arthur imagined he saw the red haired Caja dancing in the flames and turned away at the memory of her. He looked around for Ceinwen but couldn’t see her anywhere nearby. She was sitting down by the lake next to the burnt remains of her family’s home. She stared out over the cold, grey lake with unseeing eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Arthur left five of the war band to watch the village and slay any messengers or small bands that came into the valley. Meanwhile, the rest of the warriors would watch the roadway from Eald. Eventually the Adren at Eald would send or expect messages from Branque. If any small bands came down the forest road making for Branque then they would be ambushed. They expected a captain would be among them and they hoped to be able capture one. There had been one at Branque but he was shot down as he tried to escape on horseback and had not liv
ed long enough to be interrogated.

  As their messengers continually failed to return Arthur hoped the Adren at Eald would send a larger force to investigate. If it were only a hundred strong then they would ambush that too. If it was larger then they would let it pass to Branque and ride to Eald to see if it had been left depleted enough to attack. With any luck such an investigating force would find staked heads at Eald as well as Branque when they returned. It had been obvious from the onslaught at Branque, and the subsequent events there¸ that the Adren felt no mercy or compassion to those they attacked but Arthur hoped that perhaps they could learn to fear those who attacked them. They would certainly be confused by the attacks and uncertain about the size of the force that was assailing their new outposts. At least they would know that an enemy force was loose amongst them, and perhaps more than one; and that someone was prepared to fight back. Arthur wanted to convince the Adren that they had to find and face him before they could consider crossing the Causeway.

  Cei had suggested they take what supplies they would need and could carry from Branque and poison the rest. Merdynn was now working on a tasteless poison for lacing the enemy’s stored food supplies.

  Arthur posted scouts along the roadway and the rest of the warriors returned to their camp in the forests and waited. At first, those who had remained at the camp were surprised by the subdued atmosphere of the returning warriors. They understood better when they heard about the fate of the Branque villagers and their children.

  Merdynn finished his poisons and they were taken to Branque. No one felt any remorse as they poured the liquid over the supplies they had decided not to take themselves. With the Adren feast still on their minds they had wavered over taking the smoked fish and cured meats but practicality overcame their understandable reluctance and they loaded the food onto a cart and took it back with them. Cei sensed they needed a release and assented to four ewers of wine being taken as well. The rest was poisoned and the remainder of Merdynn’s liquid was packed away with the recovered supplies.

  The wine was greeted with enthusiasm when they returned to the camp. Arthur had wanted to pour it away but Cei persuaded him to put half the company out on scouting duties while the other half celebrated their victory at Branque and then to switch groups at the following main meal. They drew lots, as they did for almost everything, and then fell into the usual haggling and bartering to keep certain groups together. Arthur had wanted to let the Anglians celebrate first, then the Wessex, but once again Cei suggested it would better to treat them all as one war band from now on. He realised that this would more formally make Arthur the warlord of the Anglians but he did not begrudge Arthur that. They were old friends and Arthur was known throughout Britain as Middangeard’s foremost warlord so there was little point in pretending otherwise.

  As the first round of celebrations got under way, Ceinwen watched Arthur as he moved from group to group, talking and laughing freely. She found it hard to accept it was the same man whom only a short while ago was killing his own wounded, staking the heads of his enemies and who witnessed the horrifying detritus of the Adren feast. She had broached the subject with his sister Trevenna but all she would say on the subject was that Arthur had always done whatever he felt was necessary, without looking for support from those around him and doing so with a certain ruthlessness. She had added unnecessarily that it was extremely unwise to cross him when he was in such a mood.

  Ceinwen found herself increasingly alone again. She knew that part of the reason was simply that the warriors all had their own duties to carry out and that every single one of them took those responsibilities extremely seriously whether it was patrolling, preparing food or just collecting water but she suspected she knew the real reason – she had known those at Branque, they had been her friends, her neighbours and even her family, and no one knew quite what to say to her or how to approach her. They brought her food and spoke briefly to her but for the most part they kept their distance and Ceinwen was left to her own sickening thoughts.

  She realised she wasn’t the only one to have been so affected by the recent events; the warriors around had changed, or at least their attitudes had, since their attack on Branque. The war band had, without realising it, accepted in their minds that they were now at war. They were not dealing with Green Isle or Uathach raiding parties or even Uathach villages who were, after all, of the same people as those in Wessex, Anglia or Mercia. The Uathach might not have had the same order of counsellors, chieftains or a king, and they certainly lived without laws, but they had never perpetrated what the Adren had done.

  The Uathach would raid, kill and enslave where they could and do so brutally but they had never senselessly slaughtered or resorted to cannibalism as the Adren had done. Until now, the worse crime had been the Uathach’s capturing of children but they had never murdered them. Children were simply too precious. No, the war band was realising this was a war against another race. A war unlike any they had ever waged, where there was no right or wrong, just victory or absolute defeat. There was no place for mercy or compassion, just a ruthless determination to win no matter what the cost and Ceinwen had to admit to herself that Arthur had seen this even as early as when he dragged her from the hall at Branque. Ceinwen realised that if the Adren were prepared to kill their enemy’s young then the cost of victory, no matter how high, was still cheaper than defeat because defeat meant losing absolutely everything. She became aware of the gloomy dark of the forest around her and suddenly she felt the need for the closeness of companions and she joined the group by the fire.

  Mar’h smiled at her as she sat down with them. They had been laughing while Balor, red faced, was still blustering into his wine. She looked enquiringly at their faces to be let in on the joke.

  ‘Balor...’ Morgund tried to explain and doubled up with renewed laughter.

  ‘When Balor hit the doors... of the hall...’ Cael’s attempt failed too as he subsided into a silent, wheezing laughing fit.

  Ceinwen sat back on her heels and poured herself a beaker full of wine and drained it in one go. She realised she had some catching up to do.

  ‘Flat on his face!’ Morgund got out between gulps of breath and Mar’h and Cael fell into another fit of laughing taking Morgund with them.

  Ceinwen put the dark thoughts from her mind and forced herself to join in. She reached across and patted Balor on the shoulder, ‘The doors were asking for it, Balor.’ She comforted him and Morgund literally held his sides as he tried to stop laughing and start breathing.

  ‘Don’t you bloody start girl, bad enough with these idiots,’ Balor said but he could not restrain himself from grinning sheepishly and moments later his bellowing, infectious laugh filled the hollow.

  ‘ ‘Don’t duck yet’...!’ It was no good. Mar’h just could not get a whole sentence out without relapsing into helpless laughter. Balor threw his head back and roared with him.

  ‘You really told him not to duck yet?’ Ceinwen asked incredulously. Judging by the renewed seizure of laughter she guessed that Mar’h had. She refilled her beaker of wine and grinning at them, poured more into their beakers.

  ‘What’s the joke over there?’ Tomas called from a group across the hollow.

  ‘Balor’s brave attack on the hall and how the doors sneakily tripped him at the crucial moment!’ Morgund managed to reply before being drowned out again by Balor’s resurfaced laughter.

  Morveren, who was sitting with Tomas and Elowen, smiled for the first time since Talan had died on the attack on the Westway. With Balor’s laughter filling the hollow it was impossible not to.

  Elowen jumped at the chance to keep her distracted from her grief and said, ‘Did you see him? It must have given the Adren a nasty shock, Balor smashing through the doors and crashing flat on his face cursing to the heavens.’

  ‘Surprised he didn’t get up, apologise and then sidle out through sheer embarrassment,’ Tomas said chuckling to himself.

  ‘He’s taking it well – for
Balor,’ Morveren said.

  ‘Yes, he either walks off in a huff or brings the place down with his laugh,’ Elowen said, trying to keep Morveren talking.

  ‘It’s a great laugh though.’ Tomas smiled as another round of laughter burst out from across the hollow.

  ‘Shall we join them?’ Elowen said, selfishly hoping they could leave the dispirited Morveren with them allowing Tomas and her to go and find a quieter place together. She justified it to herself that Morveren needed laughter at the moment. They crossed the hollow and sat with the others.

  ‘Sane company, thank the gods,’ Ceinwen said.

  ‘We thought we might give you old ones a hand with the wine,’ Tomas said, his handsome face and blue eyes smiling at them and much to Elowen’s annoyance he poured himself a full mug of wine.

  Balor wrapped an arm around Morveren’s shoulders and started to extol his other exploits of the battle.

  Ceinwen leant closer to Elowen and said quietly, ‘Where’s Ethain? He’s not out scouting is he?’

  Elowen shrugged, angry and frustrated that her own plans had not worked out.

  ‘Elowen?’ Ceinwen asked again.

  ‘Oh, I think I saw him over there a while back,’ she gestured vaguely with her hand.

  ‘Thanks,’ Ceinwen said, meaning the opposite and letting her know it by the tone of her voice. She got up and wandered towards Arthur’s tent just as he climbed out.

  ‘I suppose you haven’t seen Ethain have you?’ she asked him without catching his eyes.

  ‘No, I’ve been resting. Have you seen Merdynn?’

  ‘No, he’s not by the fire.’

  ‘Not much help to each other are we?’ Arthur said and smiled at her as she finally looked at him. She could not bring herself to smile back and stood there awkwardly.