Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  They studied the distant line that cut through the forests and Aelfhelm pointed out a faint glow several miles behind the first one they had spotted.

  ‘If we could block that roadway and prevent the supplies reaching their forces...’ Cei said, thinking aloud.

  ‘But against those numbers? How?’ Ceinwen asked.

  ‘Even if we could choke their supply lines, wouldn’t that just force them to come across the Causeway sooner?’ Aelfhelm ventured.

  The others nodded and considered this. Arthur was lost in thought and did not notice them looking at him.

  ‘Arthur?’ Cei said.

  Arthur rubbed his hands across his face and got up on one knee, ‘We’ll need a camp deeper in the forests. Much deeper. Fifty miles or more and preferably on the North side of the East Road. This whole area will become patrolled soon. The supply columns will be heavily protected this close to their base so we’ll have to hit them much further up the roadway. We’ll take an hour’s rest here then take a wide sweep to cross the East Road. Let the others know.’

  They stood up to return to the camp but Arthur called Cei back and they talked on the ledge overlooking Eald while the others rested. Below them they could see the torches of the patrols as they fanned out from the encampment, looking for the raiders loose amongst them.

  *

  They set off in darkness without waiting for the clouds to clear. It would be a slower journey but they wanted to put some distance between themselves and the Adren camp before the moon was unveiled and lit their passing in what was now a hostile land. They left behind the carts that had accompanied them so far, loading onto the ponies as much as they could carry.

  The war band’s ebullience had been sobered by the sight of so many of the enemy in the Valley of Eald. As they made their way through the dark forests under a cold, cloudy sky they felt alone and far from home and each was conscious that every step was taking them further away.

  After some hours they reached the East Road and waited while scouts were sent to check for signs of the enemy. The trees that had been cleared lay discarded on either side of the roadway. They were recently felled and the sight of such an undertaking only served to heighten the overwhelming feeling that they were but a small band in the land of a numerous enemy; an enemy that could cut straight roads through miles of forest in order to supply the forces that were now arrayed against Britain.

  The scent of pine was thick in the sharp air and Ethain, with his head resting on one of the felled trees, was just drifting into a dream when Ceinwen came back announcing the road was clear. He heaved himself to his feet and leading his horse, trudged through a gap in the trees behind Elowen. As he crossed the wide forest track he did not bother looking right or left as the others automatically did. Nor did he hurry across. He was exhausted. He had not slept much at any of their rests since their raid on Branque. If he slept he dreamt of the Adren who had been about to skewer him with his curved sword before Tomas had swiped him aside. He had frozen when faced by the black-armoured Adren and were it not for Tomas he would have died with that curved sword in his stomach. It was the second time he had faced the Adren, the first time it had been Balor who had saved him.

  He thought about the aftermath of the recent battle and how he had watched from a distance as Sawan had writhed on the earth at Branque, scrabbling on his back in the dirt desperate to escape his agony. Ethain did not want to die and he certainly didn’t want to die like that. He had no hope that he would be returning to Britain, he just hoped that when he died it would be quick and he would not know much about it.

  He would have been glad to suffer the shame of asking to return home but he knew that neither Arthur nor Cei would permit it. Even if he asked and even if they let him he did not think he would survive the journey home alone. He was desperate not to let his friends down, particularly Morveren, Tomas and Elowen but he feared that if the worse happened he would probably stand helplessly by and just watch it unfold, unable to intervene or come to their aid.

  He had no idea why they were still heading north and deeper into the Adren held land. He found it hard to believe they were going to the Belgae villages still. He felt sure everyone there had been slaughtered too and probably cannibalised just as those at Branque and Eald had been. His despair deepened and cut its own rut through his soul as his doubts and fears circled themselves, driving the ruts deeper until they could turn neither left nor right and settled instead upon each other in suffocating confirmation. He stared blindly ahead, lifelessly following in Elowen’s footsteps.

  Even Balor’s enthusiasm had cooled and set to a bloody-minded determination for what lay ahead. He walked by his horse, silently cursing the tree roots and fallen branches that conspired to entangle his cold feet. The clouds had begun to shred and the intermittently revealed moon sent shafts of pale light through the forest canopy but it illuminated little and only seemed to add further shadows to their path.

  Arthur had sent Trevenna and Ceinwen ahead with Cael to prepare a cauldron of hot broth, which they handed out as the warriors went slowly past them. Trevenna alone seemed impervious to the doubts that were sinking steadily into the war band like the creep of winter cold. Her cheerful talk and the hot soup raised their spirits temporarily as they continued north, ever deeper into the forest.

  Behind them Trevenna and Ceinwen packed up the cauldron and covered the remnants of the small fire. Ceinwen had been quietly studying Trevenna as the warriors paused to take their hot drink. She wondered again at the difference between Arthur his sister. Her cheerfulness was infectious and never seemed to be forced. No matter what the circumstances she acted as if she was entirely happy and confident in her surroundings and that confidence spread to those she talked with. Strangely the same complete confidence emanated from Arthur but without the cheerfulness or ready smile. His was more forceful and more purposeful.

  It was hard to doubt Arthur but Ceinwen had been shaken by the cold way he had ended Sawan’s suffering. In fact, many things about Arthur jarred with her memories of him as a young man. She wondered if the years as the Wessex Warlord had entirely stripped away from him the qualities that had once attracted her so, yet, on the other hand, there had seemed to be a closeness, almost a tenderness, between him and the Cithol girl, Seren. She remained undecided but she had to acknowledge that she was more wary of Arthur now than she had ever been before.

  She involuntarily thought about the Adren Captain they had captured and the look on Balor’s face after he had executed him. She asked herself if there had been any trace of cruelty in the Arthur she had once known and couldn’t think of a single example of such a trait. She felt sickened that she could even be thinking of Arthur as cruel after what had happened to the people of her village. She quickly pushed the thought away before the questions returned about the fate of her own family.

  As she packed away the bowls they had used for the food, it dawned on Ceinwen that Arthur could no longer make decisions based on individuals. Having seen down into the Valley of Eald she now truly realised for the first time that the fate of Middangeard hung on the balance of Arthur’s decisions.

  She realised Trevenna was waiting for her. Together they left the small clearing and joined the back of the column as it continued its journey north. Twenty hours after crossing the East Road they finally made camp.

  *

  Even though they were deep in the forest and far from Eald, Arthur still posted sentries around the camp. Those not on guard duty set about unloading their horses and the ponies. A small glade between the trees was cleared of brambles and fern and the large tent was erected using cut branches as holding poles and guy ropes were slung around tree trunks at each corner. It was big enough to sleep forty in marginal comfort but it was generally used to provide a place in which to gather and eat, sheltered from the winter harshness. Its greatest benefit was that a fire could be lit inside providing warmth and heated food without the usual dangers of a fire being seen from afar. The Wessex war
riors had used it each winter for many years and the inside had become smoke-blackened and it reeked of countless cooked meals. The walls were patched and roughly sewn where innumerable tears stood testament to its years of service.

  Smaller tents sprang up like mushrooms between the trees around the main marquee where soon the only permitted fire was lit inside. The familiar mechanisms of the camp fell into place. Water was collected from the nearby small stream, still unfrozen but ice cold. Latrines were dug a hundred yards downhill from the camp. Food and stores were unpacked and an inventory taken of supplies, particularly the amount of arrows they still carried. Much of this would have been Llud’s responsibility but since his death on the Westway, Morgund had taken over most of this organisation. Once the essentials were completed and a meal had been taken, they crawled into their tents and slept while those on guard tried not to.

  Only the howling of wolves troubled the guards and that was distant. Aelfhelm tirelessly patrolled the camp’s perimeter, keeping the guards awake and allaying their concerns about unexplained movements in the strange forest and settling their tired nerves which were starting to fray with the unfamiliar and unearthly cry of the wolves baying across distant forest valleys. When the first watch was replaced by more rested warriors then Aelfhelm too retired and he immediately fell asleep.

  Once everyone had rested and eaten again, Arthur called them all together in the main tent and they discussed what they had seen in the Valley of Eald and on the East Road. They talked of the best way to delay the Adren onslaught on the Causeway without precipitating it. They weighed what advantages they had and how best they could use them.

  Arthur kept silent, except to prompt someone’s opinion, and let everyone say what they thought was best to be done. As each stratagem was put forward and then countered he sat with head bowed, listening closely to what the warriors were saying and how they said it. Every view and plan was considered and argued, and even those plans with little merit were given time and talked through.

  Finally everyone who wanted to speak had spoken and the warriors who were crowded around the fire went quiet. No one looked at Arthur but they waited for him to speak. After a minute he looked up at the faces in the flickering firelight.

  ‘If courage, honour and skill in battle were enough then I’d gladly lead you in a glorious charge into the Valley of Eald and tear out the heart of the enemy before they put a foot on the Causeway.’

  Some cheered lustily at this, Balor and Cerdic loudest among them, others kept their silence waiting.

  ‘If we were outnumbered five or ten to one, still I would go to battle with the Adren and think our chances of success good.’

  More cheered at this, claiming victory was assured, shouting for battle. Some still kept their peace and watched Arthur.

  ‘Even if it meant that each of us would die. As long as it meant utter defeat for the Adren and that Britain were safe then that is a price any of us would pay.’

  They clamoured it would be worth the price and those who were silent nodded agreement.

  ‘No one doubts the courage of any warrior here. No one doubts the battle skill of any warrior here. No one doubts the heart of anyone here.’

  Everyone bellowed agreement.

  ‘It isn’t enough,’ Arthur said and the noise died quickly.

  ‘We are less than eighty warriors. They number eight thousand or more and that’s just from what we’ve seen. Balor, Cerdic, any of you, no one doubts you would stand before a hundred Adren each.’

  Balor and Cerdic loudly claimed they would.

  ‘Yet would you win? For if you didn’t then nothing stands between the enemy and Britain. Even if you slew ninety before falling you would have failed and Britain would be lost.’

  Cerdic looked at his hands and Balor’s bluster trailed into silence.

  ‘When we have a thousand or more to their ten-thousand then I’ll face them in open battle at a time and place of my choosing but I will not throw Britain and its peoples to the Adren by casting aside our lives in a battle we cannot yet win.

  ‘No. We will fight the enemy on our terms, not theirs. We’ll fight where we choose to fight, not where they choose. If we have to we’ll kill them all one by one.

  ‘Nowhere will be safe for them, whether on the roadway, on patrol or in their camps. They will come to realise death is only moments away. They will come to fear the forest and the unseen enemy it harbours.

  ‘And we’ll show them the mercy they showed Eald and Branque.

  ‘None.

  ‘We’ll travel the East Road and raid their supply columns. We’ll slow their preparations for crossing the Causeway until the summer and when they do come to Britain we’ll be there waiting for them with every man, woman and child armed, trained and prepared to defend their land with their lives. And each will count for more than twenty of the enemy who live to cross the Causeway.

  ‘Every day they’ll pay in blood for coming to Middangeard. Every step they take on the Causeway will cost them dearer and if they take a breath on our shores it’ll be their last.

  ‘And it will start now. Death will stalk their tracks and silently take them. We’ll teach them what it is to know fear and what it is to know despair. Together we will make a tale that will last forever!’

  None stayed silent, they roared their approval, and they yelled out their battle cries, swearing to defend Britain to the death and cursing the Adren for the flesh-eating cowards they thought they were.

  Arthur divided them into seven groups of ten and gave each one an area to raid over the next month. Each group had an experienced warrior appointed as leader and they collected the supplies they would need. They were all to make their way back to this camp by the next full moon.

  They went their separate ways with boasts of who would kill the most and cries of good fortune and good hunting. They were to carry out lightning raids and ambushes. To kill as many of the enemy as possible but never to be drawn into battle against heavier odds and, most importantly of all, to come back alive for without the Wessex and Anglian war bands, Britain would surely fall.

  *

  So it was that over the following days and weeks, under the winter sky and in the dark forests, the Adren were attacked time and again. Scouting parties did not report back and patrols sent to investigate would later find staked heads fixed on the roadway. Camps were raided and guards left dead. Supply columns were ambushed in rapid attacks. Arrows flew out of the darkness from the warriors’ longbows claiming captains or taking down the beasts used to haul carts. When the Adren charged into the forests after their attackers they found spiked traps waiting for them and their assailants gone. Bands of a hundred or more Adren were sent into the forests to hunt down the raiders but became the hunted instead.

  Gradually the camps became better guarded and the columns turned to small armies inching back and forth along the leagues of the East Road. The raids slowed and became less effective as the Adren adapted to the new hostile environment.

  Then the snows came out of the West and fell heavily across the forest, ladening the trees and weighing their branches downwards to the deep blanket layered on the forest floor. The snow drifted, restlessly looking to fill hollows and gulleys where icy streams froze from their surface downwards and only the swiftest remained free to run their course a while longer.

  Thick low clouds covered the heavens denying the stars and moon to the land below. Deprived of light and bound under snow the land became still, held fast by the deepening cold.

  The Adren camps waited, no longer sending scouts or patrols out after the raiders. The supply columns slowed to a crawl as they dug their way along the East Road. In the forests the raiders and the wolves watched for rare opportunities to strike.

  Then one by one the bands turned to feel their way, landmark by landmark, back to the main camp. First they, and then the snow, had accomplished what Arthur had wanted. The Adren were no longer free to move in the land. They were tied to fortified camps
and the supplies for their campaign across the Causeway had slowed to a crawl and then ceased altogether.

  Arthur’s band was the last to return to the camp for they had taken the longer journey to the Belgae villages. The news they brought back with them was as expected but none the less grievous for being so. Although no sign was found of the Anglians who had been there, many among Cei’s spear riders now mourned the warriors and friends whom they accepted as lost.

  They listened stoically to the news that another Adren host was camped at the main Belgae village. The reports from the other bands all confirmed that the Adren were in Middangeard in vast numbers and that those numbers had been growing before the snow had stilled the land.

  During the weeks of raiding they had lost another seven warriors. Four were lost from one band alone when they had the misfortune to run straight into a large Adren patrol while fleeing a hunting party. Despite these losses they all regarded the campaign as a success. They had harried the Adren across an area of two hundred miles and slowed their preparations for invasion. The tallies of Adren dead were totted up and Arthur privately halved the number, not that he thought his warriors were lying or boasting but he knew that not every arrow found its mark and not every wound inflicted proved to be fatal. Even so, the numbers of Adren killed were high and would have been cause for celebration had it not been for the sheer scale of the numbers they still had to face.

  As Arthur’s band took their place by the fire they recounted their news from the Belgae villages. There had been no sign that the Adren were building boats or ships to sail across the sea and so bypass the marshes. Even though Arthur had maintained that a sea crossing was unlikely he was nonetheless relieved to confirm that the Adren must be planning their attack along the Causeway.

  Leah, who, much to Morgund’s chagrin, had been selected to be with Arthur’s band, discovered the longboats that the Anglians had used to cross the sea and with which they planned to take the Belgae villagers back to Britain for the Gathering. The boats had not been found by the Adren who had not known anything about them or their planned use. So Arthur’s band had moved the boats one by one to a more secluded beach and covered them as best as they could.