Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  In the centre of the wall were the gates and they were fashioned of ironbound oak. A bridge spanned the ditch and it could be tilted back by huge winches so that it stood in front of the gates as an extra protection. Behind the defensive wall lay the village with pens and folds for all the outlying villages’ stock and covered barns for stored grain and crops.

  Cei listened intently as Merdynn described the place, picturing in his mind the extensive walls and the hive of activity that must have existed in the village during the long winter months. He could see why Merdynn was hopeful that it might have held out against the Adren - if they had enough warning of their approach and if they had the time to get all their stores within the walls. What he could not see was how they could enter the fortress if the Adren were outside the walls. He put the question to Merdynn who stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at him. Cei was not at all reassured by this reaction.

  They followed a shallow, winding valley that led to the coast. Merdynn tried to picture it in the warmth of a summer day when it was a pleasant, green pastured vale with extravagant willows trailing their low canopies into the gentle stream of the small river that flowed by on the last leg of its long journey home. Hares would sit under the shade, their bodies twitching to their heartbeats as dragonflies skimmed across the rippling water and butterflies danced endlessly above the buttercups among the long grasses. Under the cold stars of winter the land was robbed of colour and left for dead; nothing moved in the darkness and the silence lay on the land like a shroud.

  Not for the first time the company felt as if they were little better than violating intruders as they stamped across the silence and left their scars on the pristine, dead land. Their anxiety increased as they started climbing the valley side to reach the headland from where they could see the Breton stronghold. Safety or despair rested on what they found and all that they had endured seemed to be coming to a conclusion, one way or the other, on the headland before them.

  They struggled up to the lip of the valley and the salt air of the cold sea-breeze blew into their faces with the scent of salvation and home. The Breton village was still out of sight and they hurried through the snow towards the end of the long headland.

  *

  In the valley behind them the Adren Captain lifted his hand for the Adren band to halt. He could sense that the hunt was over. His quarry had nowhere left to run. The sea was before them and he was behind them. He turned to his soldiers and ordered them to take the old man alive but to kill the others. The tracks ahead were clear. He divided his force into three, one to follow the tracks and the other two to flank out on either side. He signalled his troop forward into the valley.

  *

  Cei had reached the end of the promontory and Ethain was inspecting the Breton village that jutted out into the frozen sea only a mile away. The bay between the two capes was winter-locked and sea ice looked to extend for a mile or two out from the shore. Eddies of spiralling snow swept across the flat surface below them.

  The others waited anxiously for his news. He could see signs of life on the Breton side of the huge wall that still looked intact. On the other side and about two hundred yards from the wall a ring of fires burned and they showed a large encampment gathered there. He reported what he saw. It could mean that the Bretons still held out and the Adren were camped before their walls or it could be that there simply was not enough room in the village for all the Adren and they had spread out beyond the walls. Ethain could not tell from where they were but observed that the village did not look to be overflowing with people.

  Cei was standing on the cliff edge that sloped sharply down to the frozen sea below drawing his fingers up and down the scar on his face as he pondered whether or not the Bretons were still there and if they were, how he could get his company behind the safety of the walls when he heard the children squealing. He ignored it, irritated at being distracted. They had gone off to play in the snow, happy to be close to their winter home and eager to see their parents who they thought were in the sea village. The others ignored them too, thinking they were just squabbling, all except Ethain who thought their screaming held more than just sibling anger. He took his eyes from the opposing headland and walked back towards the rise that hid the children from sight. Before he could reach it they came sprinting back through the snow, falling and scrambling up as they thrashed in haste towards them.

  Ethain held up his hands to calm them when he caught what they were screaming. It was one word over and over, ‘Stealers!’ He froze, his mind insisting it was not possible for the Adren to have caught up with them yet. The children reached him and clung to him as they sobbed in fear, still repeating the one word. Ethain grabbed each by the hand and dragged them back towards the group, shouting at the top of his voice that the Adren were coming.

  His voice could not compete with the ceaseless roar of the wind whipping over the peninsula and they did not hear him until he was almost upon them. They turned at his frantic, incoherent shouting but they had no need to understand his words. The Adren were charging over the rise of the land only a hundred yards behind him. Ethain let go of the struggling children and fumbled for his sword with his heart racing and his mind screaming for him to run.

  Charljenka and Nialgrada darted past the warriors and with a departing screech for them to follow they disappeared over the edge of the bluff. Trevenna started after them in horror, thinking they had leapt to their deaths rather than face their Soul Stealers but they were disappearing down a steep narrow track leading down through the undergrowth that clung to the cliff. She yelled to the others to follow and grabbed a horse’s reins, starting off down the perilous path the children had taken. Although it hadn’t been necessary over the last leg of the journey, the horses were still tied together, which made it possible for Trevenna to lead all the horses down from the headland by herself. It was the same rope that led them to their deaths. She had not gone more than ten yards when the second horse in line missed its footing on the treacherous track and slipped off the edge in a cloud of scrambled snow. It was a long drop to the small shingle beach on the side of the headland and one by one, in quick succession, the other horses in line were dragged panicking over the edge.

  Those who were left at the top of the cliff ignored the cacophony below them as the Adren closed the distance at a mad, ragged charge, their swords raised high and howling in bloodlust at their cornered quarry.

  Merdynn stepped forward and raised his staff, yelling for the others to follow Cei and Trevenna. Those nearest to the path immediately started to scramble down it. Cerdic and Roswitha stood by Merdynn while Aelfhelm hesitated at the head of the cliff trail, inadvertently blocking Ethain’s way. Ethain turned back to face the charging Adren, cursing Aelfhelm, just as Merdynn stepped forward chanting in an ancient language. The wind seemed to shriek in response and the snow lifted and flew in a twisting funnel as the sudden whirlwind crashed into the leading ranks of the Adren. Dozens were flattened by the blast or lifted and flung aside.

  Cerdic looked on in wonder and Roswitha howled a war cry in triumph but Aelfhelm had seen Merdynn sink to his knees in the snow. A second whirlwind followed the first but it was already dissipating when it hit the stunned Adren ranks. Whatever magic Merdynn had wrought had drained him of his strength. Ethain’s sudden hope collapsed in ruins as he saw Aelfhelm stoop to lift the old man to his feet. Merdynn sagged lifelessly in his arms. The Adren charge had been stopped by the twisting, raging wind but they were beginning to re-marshal themselves and some were already advancing over the broken bodies of their companions.

  ‘Get him to safety!’ Cerdic roared at Aelfhelm.

  Aelfhelm nodded and slung Merdynn unceremoniously over his shoulder and began his descent down the precarious path. Cerdic took his place at the head of the trail as the Adren screamed in rage at the departure of their tormentor. Ethain screamed in rage too that Cerdic had blocked his escape. Left with no choice, other than attacking Cerdic, he turned to face the Ad
ren.

  The Adren leapt over the remains of the smashed bodies and bore down on the three remaining warriors. Their onslaught was furious but ill-gauged and the tight ring guarding the cliff path caught the initial rain of blows on their shields and cut back at the enemy. Ethain only wounded his assailant but others fell dead before Roswitha and Cerdic. They were vastly outnumbered and the Adren threw themselves at the warriors in an uncontrolled fury. The sheer press of the numbers trying to get at them almost forced them flailing off the top of the bluff and would have done so if Cerdic had not relieved the press by swinging his sword in great sweeps and cutting down those before him leaving a swathe of bloody dead in the space between the defenders and the Adren.

  The Adren hesitated and a crude but sharply edged spear flew from their midst. Roswitha had been momentarily wiping the sweat from her eyes with the back of her sword hand and did not see the spear until it thudded into her belly. She doubled over with a soft gasp and toppled forward, driving the spear deeper into her stomach as the end planted into the snow in front of her. She rested there for a second before collapsing sideways, her dead eyes staring at the reddened snow and fallen bodies around her.

  The Adren howled in triumph and readied for a final charge. Cerdic took a step towards the fallen Roswitha and Ethain saw his chance. He bolted for the path down the cliff face.

  Cerdic stared after him in disbelief, thinking it must be a feint or trick but the Adren’s howling increased and in that moment he knew he would never be the Anglian Warlord or lead the war bands of Britain. He knew he would die in the snow with the smell of the sea air in his nostrils, and only the hard stars above him would witness it. There would be no songs to remember him by. He glared at the Adren before him, the muscles in his face twitching in a snarl. He screamed in despair and fury and charged into them. He died cursing the friend who had deserted him.

  Ethain was careering down the precipitous path and at several points nearly finished the Adren’s work for them. He was sobbing as he ran and kept repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again as his vision blurred with tears of shame and fear. His feet flew from under him as he slipped on the icy path and he crashed his head against the ground.

  He lay there for a moment, his body wracked by great gasps as he tried to breath. As he lay there for a second he looked out to the Breton village and could have screamed in frustration to be so close to safety. Then he saw the figures out on the ice, cloaks buffeting in the wind, halfway between the headlands and making towards the shingle beach below. Instinct took control again and he was up on his feet hurtling down the path, blood pouring from where he had cracked his head.

  Halfway down the slope he saw two warriors barring the path. Thruidred and Godhelm recognised Ethain and made way for him as he tore past them, his face covered in blood, waving his arms madly and repeatedly shouting something incomprehensible. They stared after the departing figure then looked at each other and they both simultaneously made the sign to ward off evil. Clearly whatever was going to come down this path had turned the courageous Wessex warrior into a fleeing madman.

  Ethain finally reached the bottom of the cliff and tumbled onto the shingle beach where he lay panting.

  ‘Cerdic? Roswitha?’ Aelfhelm shouted to him.

  He lay on his back mumbling to himself and holding his head. Aelfhelm cursed and made to go back up the hill. Trevenna stopped him with a hand to his chest.

  ‘They’re dead. We’re alive. They’re going to stay dead and we’re going to join them if we can’t get across the ice!’ she shouted at him. He cursed and thrashed at the stones about him in a rage but he did not go back up the path.

  The small beach was a scene of frantic activity. They too had spotted the figures from the Breton headland and they were attempting to haul the dead horses, their gear and the goat meat from the surrounding icy rocks and onto the shingle. Cei kept glancing up the cliff face trying to spot his two warriors and how far down the path the Adren were. He could see neither and cursed continually.

  They struggled to load as much of the supplies as they could carry and set off across the ice with the wind blowing the fallen snow all around them. They could not see or hear the desperate rearguard being fought out above them. The path was only wide enough for the Adren to attack singly but they were doing so ferociously and without regard to their own lives. When one was killed another leapt straight at the defenders as they gave ground and bought as much time as possible for those below.

  Cuthwin picked up the two children and began heading towards the far headland. The others on the beach followed him, scrambling onto the sea ice. Cei stood on the shore looking back up at the path. He could not leave his two warriors behind. Trevenna turned and forced her way back to him and hauled on his arm.

  ‘If Godhelm or Thruidred come down that path alive they’ll have a hundred Adren right with them. They’ll still die but without a reason. We’re the reason they’re dying up there! Don’t waste it, come!’ she shouted desperately and tugged him away from the cliff face that loomed above them.

  A little way out onto the ice Aelfhelm was arguing with Merdynn.

  ‘Why are you waiting?’ Cei shouted as he neared them.

  ‘We need to slow their pursuit or we’ll never make it across the ice!’ Merdynn answered, sagging with weariness.

  Aelfhelm shrugged in desperation, clearly doubting that the old man was in any state to be able to do anything to slow down the Adren. Merdynn once more drew himself to an upright position and summoned his last reserves of strength. The strange language filled the air and he brought his staff down on the ice with a crash. Cracks spread out immediately from the point of impact, creating a crescent around the small beach they had left behind.

  Merdynn collapsed in the snow and Aelfhelm bent down to hoist the crumpled, unconscious figure over his shoulder once more. Cei told him to make after the others and turned back to the beach. The cracks had widened through the ice leaving a band of seawater twenty-feet wide encircling the shingle strand, effectively cutting it off from the ice shelf. It would not stop the Adren pursuing them but it would gain the warriors time as their enemy searched for another route onto the sea ice.

  The warriors, bent with loaded supplies, stumbled at a half run, desperately trying to put the beach behind them and reach those coming to meet them as the rearguard on the path finally fell beneath the Adren swords. They had done their task well and Cei did not see any Adren on the beach until after they had reached the Bretons.

  No greetings were exchanged. It was enough for now that neither band was Adren. The Bretons took the burden of supplies from the gasping warriors, surprised to find them carrying two children and urged them to make haste. The Adren had reached the beach and were already searching for a way to get out onto the ice after them.

  Free of their loads they stumbled on in silence each lost in their own thoughts of their dead companions. Leah was half supporting Ethain as he lurched through the snow and she glanced at the blood still trickling down Ethain’s face. She could not stop the tears that started to run down her face over the loss of young, proud Cerdic. Everyone assumed Ethain had been wounded during his stand with Cerdic and Roswitha and he did nothing to dispel that assumption.

  They reached the base of the Breton cliffs and scrambled around to the far side where a sweeping arm of tumbled rocks and boulders jutted out of the ice to form a sheltered anchorage during the summer months. There was evidence of previous attacks from the sea ice all around the base of the Breton cape where the bodies of dead Adren still lay, half covered in snow and grotesquely frozen.

  Their rescuers hauled Cei’s band up onto the stone quay. They recognised the inert form of Merdynn and stared with wonder at the worn, ragged and exhausted band before them. Two men picked up Merdynn and began carrying him up the steep steps to the top of the high cliff.

  The two children stood uncertainly to one side, scared and wondering if they were safe yet or not. One of the Bretons called o
ut their names, unsure if they were the two children he knew. They recognised the man as one of their uncles and ran to him.

  Cei, still exhausted and breathing heavily, explained to Bran, the leader of the Bretons who had rescued them, that they had been travelling long and far through the Shadow Lands and reassured him their appearance belied their intent.

  The Breton chieftain held up his hand to stop him, ‘Enough. Companions of Merdynn are friends to us. Enemies of the Dea Arduinna are friends to us. Those who bring our children back to us are friends to us. You are all three and you bring with you food for the fires and weapons to meet our enemies. Welcome to the last foothold we have in our own land and you are welcome to stay for as long as we still hold it. Come.’

  Bran turned and led the way up the steep steps to the top of the headland. His men carried the supplies salvaged from the dead horses and Cei’s warriors laboured up the steps cut into the rock face.

  When they eventually reached the top, Bran led them to his own roundhouse, barking out orders for others to redouble the watch on the cliffs and the wall. Merdynn had been led elsewhere and Bran had placated the concerned Cei, saying he would be treated for his exhaustion.

  Once in the warmth of the roundhouse they collapsed into chairs and sank down on the furs lying on the floor. Cei thanked the Breton leader who grunted in reply as he told a young man to fetch hot food and drink. The Breton waved him to a seat by the table and Cei unbelted his winter cloak and sat with his back to the fire. He could feel it’s warmth but could take no comfort from it, thinking about his companions who had died cold deaths in the snows between where he sat and the ruined city.