Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  ‘How are we going to destroy them if we won’t face them!’ Ruraidh said, shooting to his feet.

  ‘That’s what we’re here to discuss. Now, sit down,’ Arthur replied evenly.

  Ruraidh stared into the gray eyes and slowly sat back down.

  ‘Good. As soon as we’re finished here send four riders north to shadow the Adren army. They can give a last warning to any of your people who have chosen to stay. They can give the same message to the other northern chieftains, Benoc and Hund. My offer of sanctuary still stands should they wish, and still be able, to accept it. We’ll be relying on those four warriors to give us warning when the Adren army turns south so pick them well. We’ll face that army later.

  ‘The enemy seeks to destroy our land completely and to destroy all our peoples too. It seems he’s sent half his force northwards for that purpose. In six to eight weeks’ time we can expect that force to come at us from the North while the other half of his armies push westwards towards us.’

  ‘Twenty thousand Adren,’ Elwyn said, shaking his head, ‘It could’ve been worse but still, twenty thousand.’

  ‘But the Adren Master has split his forces. He’s confident that either force is large enough to destroy us. He saw how many of us escaped the Causeway and he believes that’s all we have. After the ambushes in the Winter Wood he’ll think there’s even less of us now. But he doesn’t know about Mar’h or our own army and he’s split his forces. We don’t have to face twenty thousand Adren in battle - just ten thousand, and with Mar’h’s army the odds will only be three to one. We’ll have surprise on our side and a battle of our choosing in a place of our choosing at a time of our choosing. And that is all we need to destroy them. Now, was Lazure with the northern or southern force?’

  ‘He was with the northern one...’

  Aelfric sat by the fire chewing on some dry bread openly watching the warlords as they concentrated on Arthur’s battle plan and he listened avidly to each suggestion, counter proposal and each new strategy. When Arthur left the hall some hours later Aelfric stayed where he was and listened to the others as they laboriously discussed the logistics of Arthur’s plan.

  Arthur sought out Morveren. She was still with Ceinwen and they were sitting and chatting on the grass slopes beyond the walls. Arthur joined them.

  ‘How’s her side?’ he asked Ceinwen.

  ‘It’ll heal nicely. Scarred but then she had too few of those for a proper warrior.’

  ‘Pity your jaw healed so quickly,’ Morveren replied, then turned to Arthur, ‘It’s only a scratch really but it’s something to impress my brothers with when I next see them.’

  ‘Are they at the Haven?’ Arthur asked lying back in the long grass.

  ‘Should be by now. They went to the village first then they were due to sail their boats around the coast to the Haven so they should be there by now.’

  Arthur nodded in reply and they lapsed into silence.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Ceinwen said a few minutes later, idly gesturing to the country laid out before them.

  The other two gazed out over the fields and woods that stretched away into the distant summer haze. The sun beat down from a blue-white sky highlighting the summer colours of bright wild flowers strewn throughout the rolling grasslands before them; the yellow and blue of buttercups and harebells punctuated by the deep reds of the taller poppies. The woods and copses that dotted the landscape and lined the banks of streams and rivers were now fully in leaf and the cries of the migrant birds that inhabited them carried far on the soft wind.

  Morveren couldn’t help contrasting the scene before them with the recent horrors of battle, ‘Bastards. How dare they invade our land.’

  At another time Ceinwen would have laughed at the righteous indignation in Morveren’s voice but she had been thinking exactly the same thing. So had Arthur.

  ‘They’ll never take this land from us,’ Ceinwen said with uncharacteristic ferocity, ‘Never.’

  ‘Lazure has split his forces and that arrogance will be his undoing.’ The other two looked at Arthur who continued, ‘Morveren, if you’re fit enough I want you to ride to the Haven and tell Mar’h to bring his new army here as quickly as possible. He’ll need as much in the way of supplies as the Haven can spare.’

  ‘We’re going to take the fight to the Adren?’ Morveren asked with enthusiasm and Arthur explained to them what he had outlined to the others in the hall. When he had finished they both grinned to each other.

  ‘It will work!’ Morveren said clenching her fists.

  ‘If it goes to plan and if Mar’h’s army is steady enough,’ Ceinwen replied more cautiously.

  Arthur shrugged, ‘Battles never go exactly to plan and it’s then that we’ll find out if Mar’h’s army is steady enough. But we’ll never get another chance to fight them on anything like even terms.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call those terms exactly even,’ Ceinwen said looking out over the sunlit countryside once again.

  Morveren got up intending to ride for the Haven straight away. She prodded Ceinwen with her foot, ‘You’re getting cautious old girl. Three to one, we’ll slaughter the bastards!’

  Before Ceinwen could reply she had turned and ran off towards the gate.

  ‘Cheeky cow,’ she said, wondering for the thousandth time if Morveren really was Arthur’s daughter. That thought led her naturally to Seren. She assumed that Arthur knew that Seren carried his child but she wanted him to know that she knew too. She thought for a few minutes about how best to broach the subject and then gave up and just came out and said it, ‘I know Seren’s child is yours.’

  Arthur just studied her and she wondered if she had made a bad mistake in bringing up the topic, ‘And Elwyn knows too.’

  Arthur continued to gaze at her. She felt he was gazing into her and rather than listen to the silence she continued onwards, ‘No one else does as far I know. Only us two. And he won’t say anything. I told him it was none of our business. It was between the two of you and nothing to do with anyone else.’ She realised she was beginning to babble and ended lamely, ‘So he won’t say anything.’

  She stared out over the distant fields feeling his eyes still on her and she felt a slight panic rising inside her. She hated Arthur when he was like this, she had no idea whether he would laugh, strike her or just keep silent and stare at her. The second of those would have been unthinkable only a year ago and was still extremely unlikely but over the last few months, ever since the attack on Branque, she had found it increasingly difficult to predict his responses. It seemed that his violence simmered constantly just below the surface; it was not likely to manifest itself in angry or vicious outbursts but if the cold rage did surface then blood was quickly spilt. To her surprise he broke the anxious silence with a quiet voice as if he were talking more to himself than to her.

  ‘Fin Seren is different to any other woman I’ve known. She is completely unreadable to me and I never thought to find someone like her. I would have given up almost anything to be with her and considered it to be a good trade. But I found her at the wrong time, or the Adren found us at the wrong time, either way she can be nothing to me while this land is threatened by the Shadow Lands.’

  Ceinwen listened in silence thinking back to the time she was with Arthur all those years ago and wondering if what he had just said in some way explained why they had never got back together when she had returned from her season in the Western Lands. She had certainly wanted to. Perhaps he was explaining to her why he had not sought her out again. Her confusion inevitably led to thoughts of Andala, her dead husband and her brother, Ruadan, one of Arthur’s oldest friends, and equal waves of grief and guilt surged through her.

  ‘Andala was a good man, he loved you and you never let him down.’

  Ceinwen was not even surprised that Arthur had guessed where her thoughts had led her.

  ‘I miss him, and Caja. And Ruadan too.’

  ‘And we’ll miss many others before the end comes.�
�� Arthur told her about the message from Lazure and how he had said that Cei and the others were dead.

  ‘Do you think they are?’ she asked, unable to keep the dread from her voice.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Arthur got to his feet and without another word walked back to Caer Cadarn. She watched him go once again feeling warmth and sympathy for him. If Trevenna, Cei and Merdynn were dead then Arthur would have lost those closest to him and Britain’s peril would be all the greater for the loss.

  Arthur went straight to his private quarters where Gwyna was still sleeping. He joined her and still half-asleep she clung to him desperate for his acceptance to wash away the violation and humiliation she felt.

  Ceinwen sat on the grass slope letting the hours drift by lost in the memory of her dead family. She was eventually brought out of her long reverie by the thundering of hooves as Hengest and the Anglians rode from Caer Cadarn. Tagging along behind them was Laethrig and a very unhappy looking Balor.

  So, she thought, it’s time to take the fight to the enemy.

  Chapter Five

  Mar’h arrived at Whitehorse Hill eight days later. At Arthur’s instigation the warriors at Caer Cadarn lined the Ridgeway to honour those who had chosen to fight alongside them. They watched with mixed emotions as the long procession marched past them. They all felt proud that so many of their people were prepared to fight to defend their land but they also felt varying shades of uneasiness; it had been their responsibility to keep these people safe from attack and although they knew that no one could accuse them of not giving their all still they had failed in their prime responsibility.

  Arthur felt none of these conflicting emotions. He stood on the wall above the gate watching as the freshly trained army filed through beneath him. They were a fairly even mix of Wessex, Anglian and Mercian with a smaller contingent of Uathach villagers. It was understandable there should be less from the northern tribes as they had arrived at Caer Sulis and the Haven much later than most of the southern villagers and Mar’h would have had little time to organise them into a fighting force. As far as Arthur was concerned this was a war of annihilation and he expected every single Briton to fight for their survival.

  The warriors were as encouraged by the numbers that Mar’h brought with him as they were by the cartloads of supplies that followed behind the marching army. There was enough food to last them for the next two to three months and several carts held thousands of arrows. The army itself marched through the gate proud to be standing alongside their warriors and desperate to prove themselves to the warlord who stood and watched them.

  Once inside the walls of Caer Cadarn the captains of the war band started to organise the newcomers; tents were set up, supplies stored and quarters assigned. The process would take several hours and Arthur left it to Gereint to manage the whole chaotic business; as the king’s warlord it had been his responsibility to organise the yearly departure from the Haven so he was more than capable of dealing with this influx. Gereint, in turn, left the stocking of weapons to Morgund.

  Arthur summoned Mar’h to report on the readiness of the new army and he reluctantly left the raucous reunion with his friends and made his way to the main hall. Like Morgund before him he was glad to be out of the glaring sunshine and he poured himself a beer holding the flagon awkwardly in his damaged hand.

  ‘It hasn’t got any better?’ Arthur asked gesturing to Mar’h’s hand.

  ‘Good as it’s going to get. Sounds like you’ve given the Adren a good beating on the Causeway and in the Veiled City.’

  ‘And yet here we are.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mar’h took his eyes away from Arthur not wanting to bring up the rumour of Cei and Merdynn’s deaths, or the deaths of any of the others either.

  ‘Did the Cithol arrive safely at the Haven?’

  ‘Yes. I garrisoned them at the harbour master’s place, like you suggested.’

  ‘Did Unna complain?’ Arthur asked with a half-smile, thinking about the harbour master and her intolerance of disorder.

  ‘Actually she’s leading one of the cohorts so she’s been too busy to think about her home or its new occupants.’

  ‘Cohorts?’

  ‘Well, they aren’t really warriors and they certainly don’t belong to any war band so I based the structure on one of Merdynn’s unlikely stories. Remember how he used to talk about the legions and ancient battles?’

  ‘Made up nonsense to wile away the long dark winters,’ Arthur replied, thinking how even Mar’h was talking about Merdynn as if he were dead.

  ‘Well, it gave me a structure to work on and a sense of identity for the would-be warriors so I saw no harm in it.’

  ‘So, how many of these would-be warriors have you trained to stand against the Adren?’

  ‘Three and half thousand.’ Mar’h looked towards one of the nearby shutters and the noisy activity outside, ‘There’s more out there but two hundred or so are just acting as cooks, blacksmiths, wagon drivers and so on.’

  ‘How good are they?’

  ‘I didn’t have all that long to train them and most of them had no idea to start with. Some I had to coerce but more volunteered than I had expected. Some were too old or too young and we still need people to till and fish of course so others I had to turn down.’

  Arthur was looking at him with growing impatience but Mar’h had been away from the war band for too long and he was unaware of Arthur’s shortening temper.

  ‘How good are they?’

  ‘Well, none of them could use a longbow to save their lives which was hardly surprising but there’s five hundred of them who can now fire a short bow with a fair chance of putting nine out of ten arrows in a ten yard circle on the ground at a hundred paces. Good enough for arrow storms but they’re a lot worse at one to one targets unless it’s at less than fifty paces.’

  ‘How fast can they fire?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘With that accuracy? About half our speed – ten a minute. Faster if you widen the target circle to fifty yards.’

  ‘That’s good enough.’

  ‘We also received about five hundred of those crossbows from the Veiled City before the supplies stopped so there’s five hundred trained up to use those though the killing range on those things is only about twenty to thirty yards. Their rate of fire is about five a minute and you can double that if it’s just a storm that’s required. Both those cohorts are trained to fight with a spear as well but I put the smaller and weaker ones in the crossbow cohort for obvious reasons so they wouldn’t be very effective in close fighting.’

  ‘There’s five hundred in each of your cohorts?’

  ‘Yes, there or thereabouts. Four others have been trained with sword and shield. I’ve tried to keep those from the same villages together as much as possible. When the fighting starts it’ll help them to have their own people alongside them.’

  ‘And how good are they?’

  ‘They’ve learnt what we were taught as children. Simple block, cut, parry, thrust. They aren’t warriors, Arthur. Perhaps some of them might be, if they can live long enough to learn by experience. Despite that I think two of those cohorts could stand up to the Adren and be a match for them. The other two I’m less convinced about, for a start we don’t have enough swords for them all so a lot of them are equipped with just scythes and sickles and the like. It would help if the warriors here could give them some training in smaller groups than we were able to do, if there’s time.’

  ‘There may not be. What about the last cohort?’

  ‘I got together over four hundred who could ride horses and set about training them how to use a spear on horseback. Trouble is we don’t have enough horses for them.’

  ‘We have spare horses,’ Arthur replied, and Mar’h nodded having already heard from Morveren about the ambushes in the Winter Wood.

  Arthur went on to outline the plan he had for attacking the Adren.

  ‘Will your legion be able to play their part?’ he
asked once he had finished.

  ‘Yes, as long as it’s drilled into them exactly what they have to do.’

  ‘That’ll be your responsibility. I want you to lead the legion into battle and I want the warriors who helped you to train them to lead each of the cohorts.’

  ‘I’ve already put Unna in charge of one cohort,’ Mar’h pointed out.

  ‘I want battle-experienced warriors to lead each cohort. Unna doesn’t have that. Make her one of your commanders and keep her close. She can learn from you. You’ll need riders who can take orders across a battlefield too. Communication will be as much a problem as their inexperience. The legion will need to react as quickly as if it were a war band or its size will be a disadvantage. Bring your captains here as soon as there’s some semblance of order outside. I want to make sure they know exactly what is expected of them. And tell them not to make themselves at home here as we’ll be heading west as soon as we get word from Hengest that he’s ready.’

  *

  Ruraidh was telling Gwyna about the detailed plan that Arthur had laid out for the attack upon the Adren. They were walking unhurriedly along the Ridgeway path that led to Delbaeth Gofannon. Behind them Caer Cadarn was in constant upheaval despite Gereint’s organisation of the new arrivals and both were glad to leave the teeming compound behind them for an hour or two.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Ruraidh asked when he finished.

  Gwyna’s mind had been elsewhere and she had only half-listened as Ruraidh outlined the proposed attack on the Adren.

  ‘Sounds too complicated. The best plans are the simplest,’ she replied not committing herself.

  ‘That’s what I thought. It relies too heavily on this new legion or whatever they call themselves.’

  ‘What do you think of them?’

  ‘You can’t put weapons in the hands of villagers and call them warriors, that’s what I think.’

  Gwyna lacked the energy to reply. Ruraidh turned his head to look at her just as she stumbled, turning her ankle in one of the deep ruts that had been baked stone-hard by the summer sun. For an alarming second Ruraidh thought she was going to burst out crying but she quickly composed herself and suggested they sit in the shade of a ring of trees that was over to their right.