Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  The light outside already seemed brighter and she had to draw her hood over her head to shield her eyes. Behind her Commander Kane mistook her action and laughed derisively. ‘Well might you hide your face, girl.’

  Seren spun around to face him, ‘I have nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of, unlike you.’

  A flash of hatred crossed Kane’s expression before his insolent smile spread once more into place and he extended his hand to suggest that she walk in front of him. She looked around at the ten guards and saw Terrill’s face among them. He could not meet her eyes and he looked as miserable as she felt.

  ‘So many brave guards for one girl? No wonder you won’t face the Adren or stand against their master.’

  ‘That’s quite enough. Now move,’ Kane replied as if he was admonishing a small child.

  ‘You know that from now on the names Kane and Cithol will mean traitor to the people of Britain?’

  Kane’s contemptuous sneer slipped immediately from his face and he snarled at her, ‘Traitor to the people of Britain? You mean those barbaric peasants scratching at the earth and squabbling among each other? That noble race of lice-ridden rats? What should I care for the folly of savages?’ And his eyes once more dropped to her lower stomach leaving her in no doubt what he meant.

  ‘They’re standing in front of us, fighting to protect us and you take the opportunity to stab them while their backs are turned. Noble Commander Kane! How your name will ring through the histories!’

  Kane’s temper threatened to break and he shoved her viciously forward. She stumbled to one knee and Kane raised his hand to strike her but Terrill stepped in quickly placing himself between them and helping her to her feet. She shrugged herself free from his grip and to his horror she turned and spat on him.

  ‘You’re the same as him, he echoes your words. Do they still sound as pretty to you?’

  Seren was led away by the others leaving Terrill to stare after her appalled at what he had done.

  The journey back to the Veiled City was hurried and silent. Commander Kane had quickly regained his composure while Seren, flanked by the city guards, seethed in silent anger. Had she been more aware of those around her she would have realised that the guards were distinctly uncomfortable about having to escort the Cithol Lord’s daughter against her will but she walked with head bowed and her hood pulled tightly around her face and she saw nothing of their discomfort.

  The Winter Wood, when it was shrouded in darkness, was as much a home to her as the city itself but with the rising of the sun it had become an unfamiliar and hostile environment. The buried ruins of a previous age became more noticeable in the spring light and seemed to her to be an ugly scar that covered the entire forest floor, visible in relief and evident wherever one looked. The soft calling of owls as they hunted for winter prey had been replaced by the harsh chatter of starlings and sparrows and the cold air was filled with the raucous cries of skirmishing crows as they noisily acclaimed their return to their summer territories. Her woods were coming alive with the racket of alien invaders and she resented the intrusion.

  The pathway was muddy and cloying as she trudged along it. Even the trees were showing the first signs of surrendering their uncluttered elegance and sharply defined beauty as buds of green spread across their limbs like an infestation. She longed for the deep stillness of the dark months and ached for the joy that she had felt in the Winter Garden with the snow and ice surrounding her and the hard stars slowly wheeling over the bare branches of the stark trees. She drew her light cloak more tightly about her and hurried on between her guards as quickly as she could.

  Just when Seren was sure they were going to make for the main entrance in the centre of the Winter Garden Kane barked out an order and they took a narrower path that led to one of the less frequented entrances. She recognised it as the one that she and Terrill had fled from after hearing about the deal with Lazure.

  Kane led them downwards until they reached the far end of the tunnel where it opened up onto the valley of the Veiled City and where Lord Venning’s smaller council chambers were. Kane took Seren by the arm and steered her into the house and up to a small, windowless room that was furnished only with a low bed and a small table.

  She looked around the bare room as the door closed behind her. She heard a bolt slide into place as she was locked in. The room that she and Terrill had made their escape from was just across the corridor and she smiled humourlessly at the irony. She assumed that the passageway leading into the other room would be blocked up by now and that a guard would be standing outside her door in case anyone tried to see her or in case she tried anything as futile and foolish as trying to break down the door.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and chided herself on her immediate thoughts about how uncomfortable it felt. She poured herself a cup of water from the stone jar on the table and hungrily attacked the bread that had been left on the plate beside it thinking that her privileged life as the daughter of Lord Venning was well and truly behind her. Once she had chewed her way through the heavy bread she lay back on the bed and wondered idly how much her father knew about her imprisonment and how long she would have to wait to face his wrath and that of the council.

  Her thoughts turned to what Lazure had said about Merdynn having fallen on the Breton coast but she dismissed the prospect as too unlikely thinking that Merdynn would never be trapped by the likes of Lazure; he was far too old and far too cunning for that. She speculated that perhaps Lazure had only said that to tip her father’s allegiance towards him and away from Merdynn. She made a point to remember to put that obvious fact to her father when he eventually called for her but, try as she might, she was unable to dismiss the implications of her father revealing the information about the tunnel under the Causeway. She felt a tightening knot of anxiety and frustration that she was unable to get this news to Arthur. She prayed silently that the tunnel had collapsed entirely some time over the ages since it was built. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that the tunnel must at least be in a serious state of disrepair and would require months of work before Lazure could use it, but still the suspicion that every hour was crucial fretted away at her and it was a long time before she finally drifted into a fitful sleep where she dreamed that Merdynn had died alone on a cold headland far from home.

  *

  Arthur awoke from a similar dream and lay where he was staring up at the canvas roof of his sleeping quarters. He tried to dismiss it as just a dream but it contained too many details and the events he had seen were too consistent and too sequential for it to be easily waved aside as just a dream. He looked across at Gwyna who lay asleep beside him and he studied her face letting the fabric of the dream fray and drift apart until only one or two images remained. She appeared to be frowning in her sleep and her eyes were flicking back and forth beneath her closed eyelids as if she too were dreaming. He had been surprised by her honesty about her ambitions when they had talked on the Causeway and he felt that perhaps up until that point he had misjudged her.

  Casting aside the furs that were still necessary to keep out the cold he climbed up off the floor and started to strap on his battle gear. Gwyna, now awake, lay there and watched him as he immersed his head in a bucket of cold water. He wiped the water from his eyes and saw her staring at him. ‘You were dreaming.’

  ‘Was I? I never remember them,’ she replied, then cast aside the blankets covering her and added, ‘Come back to bed.’

  He smiled at her naked invitation and threw a pile of clothes at her.

  ‘Get dressed. I want you at the war council and I want you to suggest that we put kegs of oil at every defensive wall along the Causeway.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So that we can set the walls alight to buy us time as we retreat to the next wall.’

  ‘I realise that but why ask me to suggest it?’

  ‘I need the others to trust and respect you.’

  Gwyna paused as she was dressing, ‘I’m on
e of the ‘Uathach’, they’ll never trust me.’

  ‘You’ve made a habit of trying to kill me. That’s why they don’t trust you.’

  ‘You weren’t complaining a few hours ago,’ she pointed out with a smile.

  ‘And I’m not complaining now.’

  As Arthur left the tent Gwyna smiled to herself and hurried to buckle her sword on and follow after Arthur. When she stepped outside their makeshift quarters she was momentarily disoriented. A dense fog had descended while they slept and she could barely see the walls of the compound. When she caught up with him he was already with a group who were leaning over a map of the Causeway defences that was spread across a table. Their breaths were clouding over their heads as they spoke and seemed to add to the pervading fog. They shifted to make room for her and she glanced around at them trying to remember who was who. She recognised the shortest of them with the close-cropped hair and iron-grey beard as the Mercian Warlord, Gereint, and guessed that the younger man standing by his side was his brother Glore. She had already met Ruadan, Arthur’s second-in-command, and Hengest who was now the Anglian leader and she recognised the man next to him, Elwyn, whom she recognised from the Shadow Lands. There were two each from Mercia, Anglia and Wessex and she wondered awkwardly whether she had any place at this war council.

  Arthur was pointing to the crude map and making it clear how he expected the Causeway to be defended. There were few questions and no mention of either the Uathach or the Cithol joining them. When Arthur spoke about defending the wooden walls that were spaced along the Causeway Gwyna added the suggestion about the kegs of oil and Hengest nodded and said that he would see to it.

  When Arthur finished he looked at the commanders and asked if there was anything else. Ruadan pointed out that the Adren seemed to have given up on an attempt to build a parallel Causeway about a mile to the North. No one doubted that they had the manpower to eventually achieve such a feat but it would take months if not years and clearly the Adren had no intention of waiting that long.

  Arthur ended the council and the others left to relay the respective tasks to their warriors. Arthur remained standing where he was and staring at the map that depicted the Causeway defences. Gwyna watched him for a minute or two before speaking. ‘Can we hold them here?’

  Arthur looked up at her and replied simply, ‘We have to hold them here.’

  ‘What, forever?’

  ‘No, just until they’re all dead,’ he replied smiling at her.

  ‘Arthur, I was in the Shadow Lands. I saw how many there were of them. There’s less than three hundred and fifty of us and there must be twenty to thirty thousand of them. I saw what happened to the Belgae. How long do you think we can hold them here?’

  ‘Long enough for Cei and Merdynn to destroy their supplies. Then the size of their army will be their undoing.’

  ‘But what if they fail? What if they’ve failed already? What do we do then?’

  No one had so far dared to suggest to Arthur that his sister and closest friends had already died and that the venture east might have failed and Gwyna recoiled at the venom in Arthur’s reply.

  ‘Whether they’re alive or dead, whether they succeed or fail, the Adren are here now before us. I want to see these marshes drenched in their blood. For every mile they advance I want to see a thousand of their corpses left behind. And if they cross the Causeway into Britain then I’ll hunt them down and kill each one of them. And when I’ve killed all their soldiers I will seek out wherever it is they call home. And I will slaughter their families and children. I will annihilate their entire race and that destruction will begin here on this Causeway today!’

  He turned and strode off towards the East Gate leaving her standing by the table. She was shocked by the pure hatred and cold rage she had just witnessed. For a moment she had been convinced he was about to strike her and her hands shook as she folded the map berating herself for having courted Arthur’s anger. She looked around the compound trying to find a familiar face but the fog had thickened even further and the few warriors that she could make out were only vague figures and she recognised none of them. With most of the warriors spread out along the Causeway the Gates seemed half-deserted and eerily quiet. She stood holding the folded map limply in one hand and feeling heavy hearted. It was not so long ago that she would have counted every single person on the Causeway as a bitter enemy and while they were no longer enemies they certainly were not her friends and she knew the reverse was true too. She put the map down and leant against the edge of the table with her arms folded across her chest and watched as a group of Mercian warriors appeared out of the fog some distance away. They were heading towards her but in the few seconds before they became more distinct she thought they looked like marsh wraiths and she wondered how many more ghosts would be left by the coming war. One of them called out something to her but she could not understand the accent.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where’s the rest of Ablach’s bastards?’

  She stared at the bearded Mercian warrior who had asked the question but said nothing in reply and they passed by without stopping. One of them made some suggestion about Ablach just sending some Uathach girls for their entertainment and their laughter faded as the fog closed about them once more. Gwyna stared after them stony-faced before striding off towards the blacksmiths to sharpen the edge on her sword.

  Arthur walked the length of the Causeway stopping at each manned defensive position to talk to the warriors stationed there. The main topic of conversation seemed to revolve around why the Adren had not yet attacked. A popular theory, particularly among the Anglians, was that Cei and Merdynn might have already cut their supplies and the Adren army was already in disarray. Others thought that they were determined to build their own road across the marshes and so bypass the Britons’ defences altogether. Many of the defenders asked Arthur what he thought the Adren were waiting for and he just gestured around them at the dense fog that had cut visibility down to about thirty yards. He was partly correct, the Adren were waiting for two things; the spring fogs and Lazure Ulan. The mists curling above the waterways of the marshes had already thickened and spread with the rising of the sun and Lazure had just returned from the Breton coast.

  When Arthur reached the watchtower at the far end of the Causeway he saw that the defences were already garrisoned by most of the warriors who had travelled into the Shadow Lands with him. He had told Ruadan to organise it that way so that the first to face the Adren would be the ones who had already fought against them. The defences consisted of a single wall, fifteen-feet high, and a central tower that stood a further ten-feet above the wall. The tower’s upper reaches were partially obscured by the fog that lay clamped around them in the still, cold air and the two flags of Wessex and Anglia that Arthur knew were raised from the top of the tower were lost in the whiteness.

  There were no shelters built here and most of the warriors were standing around the fires that burned brightly at the base of the wall. Even the glow from the fires failed to penetrate the mists and Arthur had not seen them until he was almost upon the outpost.

  Arthur could sense the nervous boredom of the warriors as he joined them by the fires. He looked around to see who was where and saw Morgund chatting to Cael who was, unsurprisingly, slowly turning some cooked meat over one of the fires. Ceinwen was off to one side and laughing with Morveren as she checked the shoes on her borrowed Anglian horse. Arthur had previously decided that Morveren would act as the relay messenger between the different groups strung out along the Causeway. Balor and Tamsyn were up on the wall hotly debating the advantages and disadvantages of using a heavy axe in battle. Elwyn was up in the watchtower with Berwyn and Saewulf, the two Anglians who had been rescued from the Belgae villages.

  The talk and silences of those around Arthur all added to the familiar atmosphere generated by warriors who knew that they would soon be involved in the frantic uncertainty of battle but not knowing when exactly that would be. They were
bored and yet also on edge with anticipation but he sensed no more fear than was usual before the fighting started. Some of them were going through their pre-battle routines; sharpening weapons on small whetstones, testing the string on their bows, re-checking to make sure a good-fortune charm was secured in a pocket. Everyone had their own way of preparing themselves for battle. He was surrounded by experienced warriors who knew what to do and when to do it. He felt proud of those around him and they in turn felt proud to be in the first line of defence against the Adren and just as he strolled to the nearest fire the Adren finally unleashed their onslaught upon Britain.

  Elwyn shouted a brief warning from the tower and then the air was thick with arrows. The Adren had brought over a thousand archers unseen and unheard to within a hundred yards of the wall. They fired blindly but the Causeway was straight and they only had to aim directly into the fog before them. The fifteen-foot wall, which consisted of bound tree trunks sunk upright into the earth of the Causeway, took the brunt of most of the first volley but the attack was deafening as the arrows slammed into the wall and tore overheard like a flock of demented birds.

  Balor had been crouching with his back against the ramparts but the taller Tamsyn had been standing as she chatted to him and he watched as she was flung aside to crash into the warriors below. He leaned over to look at her spread-eagled body on the ground and saw the cluster of arrows embedded in her back and then he quickly thrust himself back against the ramparts as another Adren volley rocked the wall and slashed through the air above him. He looked around trying to see who else had been hit and saw another warrior being dragged from the middle of one of the fires where he had fallen. Most of the other warriors had been standing against the base of the wall so they had been protected from the initial volleys. Then he saw Ceinwen lying flat out on her back some way from the wall. Morveren was trying to drag her behind her horse which lay on its side with one leg kicking pathetically in the air.