Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  ‘Are you all right?’

  But before she could answer him she bent over again groaning and gasping. ‘I think it’s my time,’ she managed breathlessly.

  ‘But it can’t be!’

  ‘I think it can be.’

  ‘But it’s weeks away yet!’

  ‘Oh no it isn’t!’

  Terrill helped Seren to her feet and half carried her back to town. Her labour had begun.

  Chapter Nine

  Balor jumped down from the cart and walked around to the back. Morgund joined him and together they lowered the tailgate. A seagull swooped down and Balor batted it away, ‘Wait your bloody turn!’ he shouted after it.

  He grabbed an arm of one the topmost corpses and heaved it from the cart. It landed in a cloud of dust at his feet and he bent down to grip it by the ankles. With a grunt of effort he hauled it to the precipice and levered it over the cliff edge with his foot. Beside him Morgund was doing the same and as his corpse tumbled and bounced down the long drop he swore after it and added, ‘And don’t be coming back.’

  Balor laughed and trudged back to the cart to haul another Adren from the pile. He grabbed at an arm and tugged fiercely at it but there was no resistance and he wheeled backwards to land in the dirt. He lay there looking confused and staring at the arm he was holding with Morgund’s laughter ringing in his ears. He scrambled to his feet with his face going red and with a string of curses threw the arm high over the cliff. Amazingly a seagull tried to intercept it in flight and then dove after its escaping prize. Balor glared at Morgund who was still laughing and struggling for breath. He stamped back to the cart and grabbed at a leg sticking out from the pile but this time he tested to make sure it was still attached to a body.

  ‘Give us a hand here...’ Morgund said breathlessly and immediately lapsed back into another fit of hysteria. Balor smiled despite himself then started chuckling as Morgund wheezed some more unintelligible advice towards him. No one thought it particularly odd that the two Wessex warriors were laughing like children as they hurled Adren bodies over the cliff.

  They had overcome the Adren with relative ease by riding right up to the edge of the small camp and picking their enemy off with arrows. It was impossible to get a full draw on the longbow while on horseback but at such a close range even a half-draw on the powerful weapon was more than enough to kill. The Adren had been slaughtered quickly and without the Britons taking any further casualties.

  Another cart trundled up to the cliff as Balor and Morgund heaved the last of their corpses off the edge.

  Aylydd climbed down and she called out to them, ‘This is the last of them. Want to give us a hand?’

  Morgund began laughing and that started Balor off again. Aylydd and Lissa exchanged uncertain looks and started to unload the bodies. Morgund climbed onto the cart to have a look around and see if they were needed anywhere else. Arthur was still studying the Causeway below them with Gereint while Gwyna and the Uathach were loading wains with whatever Adren supplies they could use.

  Balor was still chuckling to himself as he hauled a body from the Anglians’ cart. For some reason Lissa thought their laughter was directed at him and Aylydd.

  ‘I’d have thought you two would be among the last to be laughing,’ he said, obliquely referring to Mar’h’s death.

  It had the desired effect and the two Wessex warriors stopped laughing. Neither looked at the other. They had searched for Mar’h’s body among the fallen and eventually found his bloody corpse buried under friend and foe alike. They had burnt his body in silence and neither of them yet felt willing or able to dwell on the fact that another of their circle had fallen fighting the Adren.

  Morgund dropped the corpse he was dragging and looked at Lissa, ‘Mar’h’s all right. The big nosed bastard is probably swilling beer with Cael and Cei and having a good laugh at us still stuck here.’

  ‘The bugger’s probably drinking our share of the beer,’ Balor added, looking like he wanted to attack Lissa.

  ‘We’ll leave this lot for you then,’ Morgund said, pointing at the cart-full of bodies before turning away and walking off towards Arthur and Gereint. Balor followed after him with his fists clenched and his jaw set.

  When he caught up with Morgund he asked, ‘So, who’s going to tell Della and his children, you or me?’

  ‘Neither. We’ll let Ceinwen tell her.’

  ‘And who’s going to tell Ceinwen?’ Balor asked but Morgund had no answer for that.

  They approached Arthur at the same time as Gwyna was reporting on the Adren supplies.

  ‘Two wains loaded up with potatoes, rice and smoked meat.’ She saw the look on Morgund’s face and remembered the stories she had heard about Branque and added hastily, ‘Venison haunches, shoulders of ham and the like.’

  ‘Good. Send it on to Caer Cadarn immediately and set up a relay of messengers between here and there in case word arrives about the Adren in the North.’

  Gwyna nodded then looked questioningly at Arthur, ‘We’re staying here?’

  Arthur turned to face the Channel Marshes laid out below them and spoke with his back to them, ‘When Elwyn arrives with what remains of the legion we’ll have over three hundred people. I want to level the last mile of the Causeway and let the marsh reclaim it. I don’t think the Adren have any more soldiers to send but if they do then I don’t want them walking straight into Britain. They’ll have to bring timber and rocks the length of the Causeway if they want to bridge the last mile and that’ll at least buy us time. When we’re finished here we’ll leave someone to keep watch.’

  No one had the courage to point out that they would be effectively locking in the ten thousand strong Adren army that was already in Britain.

  *

  Ethain had no idea that anyone was watching him as he climbed the steep slope back up to the cave. Morveren watched him with a growing sense of anxiety; she felt that everything she feared to be true was about to be confirmed.

  Ceinwen was afraid that the shock of seeing them might make him lose his balance on the rocky climb up to the ledge and signalled Morveren that they should withdraw into the cave. Morveren took a last look at the ascending figure before retreating back into the dimness of the small cavern.

  They heard him scrambling up the last of the slope and onto the outcrop, and then the noises outside ceased. Morveren could imagine him squatting outside on the ledge sensing that other people were nearby and staring out into the wooded ravine searching for the intruders.

  Nothing happened for several minutes. It was as silent outside the cave as it was inside and Morveren became convinced that he must have detected their presence somehow. She was about to move when Ceinwen held up a hand to still her and at the same moment Ethain darted inside the entrance. Ceinwen immediately moved to block the exit and Ethain spun around before springing across the dead fire to put his back to the wall.

  ‘Ethain, it’s all right! It’s me, Morveren, and Ceinwen. Friends.’

  Ethain stared from one to the other and Morveren could see the horror dawning on his face. ‘Friends,’ she said again, ‘We’ve come to take you home, back to Caer Cadarn.’

  A panicked look crossed his face and he remained tensed against the wall, half-crouching, one hand moving to the hilt of a knife tucked into his belt. Ceinwen saw the movement and laid her hand on her own knife hilt. Morveren watched them in alarm, ‘We’re friends, you’re safe now. There’s no enemies here, no Adren.’

  Ethain’s eyes fixed on Ceinwen’s knife hand and he slowly spread his fingers and moved his hand away from his side. Even in the dark of the cave Morveren could see that his hands were rubbed raw by his scouring.

  ‘How did you find...’ His voice was croaky and his tongue flicked across his lips, ‘How did you know I made it back to Britain?’

  ‘Kea, my brother’s daughter, she saw you come ashore near my village,’ Morveren said gently.

  Ethain’s eyes were continually flicking between Morveren and Ceinwen
’s knife hand.

  ‘Someone saw me? And recovered the boat?’

  ‘Yes, with Merdynn and Cuthwin in it,’ Ceinwen said speaking for the first time in the exchange.

  ‘There was nothing I could do for them!’ Ethain’s voice was thin and high and he stared at Ceinwen waiting for her to either reveal more of what she knew or come at him with her knife.

  ‘Ethain, you’re in shock at seeing us so unexpectedly. Relax. After everything that must have happened in the Shadow Lands, then coming back to an almost deserted Wessex, it’s no wonder...’

  His eyes fixed on Morveren and he blinked repeatedly as if trying to clear his thoughts. ‘That’s right! I’d thought the Adren had overcome you all – the villages were empty!’

  ‘Sit down. We’ve brought a little food. I’ll get the fire going,’ Morveren said and Ethain began to relax a little. He sat against the wall while Morveren lit the fire but he kept his eyes on Ceinwen and his hand near his knife.

  The wood was tinder dry and within minutes a small blaze lit the cave and Morveren started to boil some water. As she added some leaves and roots to make a drink she surreptitiously studied Ethain. He was about the same height as her but she reckoned he now weighed a good deal less than her; she was fairly lithe but Ethain had become terribly thin. His clothes were torn and stained and his hands seemed to be the only part of him not caked in grime and dirt. She remembered his black hair as being unruly and spiky but it now lay in long, lank strands, plastered across his forehead and down the back of his neck.

  Despite the dryness of the wood a thin blue smoke soon filled the cave and Ethain edged closer to the fire, drawn by the aroma of the stewing beverage.

  ‘Do you have a cup?’ Morveren asked looking around the dirt of the floor.

  Ethain shook his head.

  ‘We’ll just have to drink from the pot then,’ she said smiling at him.

  Ethain reached out his raw hands to take the cooking pot from the fire. Morveren’s hand shot out to prevent him from burning himself and he jerked backwards once more reaching for his knife.

  ‘Ethain! Wait, you’ll scold yourself!’ Morveren cried, shocked by his reaction and the intensity of his flickering eyes. He settled back and sat cross-legged on the floor staring at the cooling pot.

  ‘You’re starving, aren’t you?’ Morveren asked gently.

  Ethain nodded now dividing his attention between the sweet smelling drink and Ceinwen.

  ‘Why didn’t you make for Caer Cadarn?’ Ceinwen asked.

  ‘I, I thought the Adren had taken control. I hid, yes, I hid from them. I didn’t think anyone else could be left alive so I hid here. Hiding here was the only thing I could do. What else could I do?’

  ‘What happened, Ethain?’

  ‘I hid.’

  ‘No, what happened in the Shadow Lands? What happened to the others?’ Ceinwen persisted and there was no trace of Morveren’s gentleness in her voice.

  Morveren watched the exchange between them and was shocked by the change in Ethain; not only was he starved to the point of emaciation but he seemed to be wavering on the brink of madness. Everything from his nervous edginess to his darting eyes was deeply unsettling her. There was a wary, feral quality about him that was more akin to a wild dog than a person and his nature now seemed just as unpredictable.

  ‘What happened, Ethain?’ Ceinwen repeated coldly.

  A slight tremor passed over Ethain and he glanced towards a far corner of the cave where a jumble of possessions lay against the wall as if he were seeking reassurance.

  ‘We died. One by one. From the city of ruins to the Breton fortress. Hunted through ice storms. Hunted through the darkness. And one by one we died. Some of us made it to the fortress and we defended the walls and cliffs. All winter long. But we couldn’t stop them.’ His eyes had glazed and he shuddered as if remembering the horrors of the Shadow Lands.

  Morveren pushed the cooler drink towards him and his eyes blinked back into focus. As he took the drink his gaze flicked once more towards the bundle against the far wall then returned to watching Ceinwen over the rim of the pot.

  ‘Cei? Trevenna?’

  Ethain slurped hungrily from the pot still watching Ceinwen but not answering her.

  ‘Did they die at the fortress?’ Morveren asked quietly.

  Without taking his eyes from Ceinwen or lowering his drink he nodded slowly.

  ‘How?’ Ceinwen asked abruptly.

  Ethain lowered his drink and held it tightly in both hands, ‘As heroes. The Adren breached the wall and Cei and Trevenna held them off as we scrambled aboard the only boat. Aelfhelm too.’

  ‘And Merdynn and Cuthwin?’

  ‘Both injured. Wounded as we fought away from the dock. Cuthwin died on the journey.’

  ‘Merdynn?’

  Ethain’s eyes broke contact with Ceinwen and he raised the drink to his lips once more before replying. ‘I don’t know if Merdynn was alive or not. Dead I think. We had no food or water on the boat. He lost his senses. I thought he was dead. I just remember stumbling ashore.’

  ‘Merdynn lived long enough to return to the Breton coast to rescue the others. Why would he do that if they were already dead?’ Ceinwen asked without emotion.

  Ethain’s eyes narrowed then he placed the pot on the floor and kept his head lowered, ‘Lived long enough? So, he died?’

  Ceinwen glanced at Morveren before replying, ‘The fishermen of the village took him to the Breton coast but there was no one left there. They left him to die on the headland.’

  Ethain wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to hug them both. If Merdynn was dead and none of the others had survived then there was no one left who knew the truth. He sighed and raised his head. Morveren could see his eyes glistening with tears. ‘Mad. He must have gone mad with the pain. He was injured before the final battle and we carried him unconscious onto the boat. He was rambling on the crossing. Confused. We had to drink salt water.’ A tear spilled down the grime on his cheek, ‘All of them dead?’

  ‘All of them except for you,’ Ceinwen replied fighting to quell the sickness she felt as the tears fell freely from his eyes.

  Morveren’s heart went out to her friend. She knew he was lying about some of his story but she was unsure how much of what he said was lies; if it had indeed been Ethain who had attacked Merdynn and Cuthwin in the boat then why had Merdynn not said so himself? And if the fortress had already fallen then why would he attack them? Indeed, even if the fortress was still standing why would he attack them, what purpose would it serve? His story certainly didn’t tally with Merdynn’s but how much of what he said was lies or merely the product of his deranged state was difficult to discern. She still wanted to believe Ethain, to find a truth that could explain away her doubts and uncertain feelings. Ceinwen had no such doubts and she clung to Merdynn’s words about keeping Ethain safe in an effort to control the rage she felt.

  ‘Finish the drink, Ethain, then we’ll head back to Caer Cadarn,’ Morveren said softly.

  Ethain nodded and tilted up the pot as he drained the remains of the drink. Ceinwen left the cave and stood outside on the ledge breathing deeply with her eyes closed.

  Ethain crossed to his bundled possessions and looked over his shoulder at Morveren who was watching him.

  ‘You don’t need any of that now. We have everything we need on our horses,’ Morveren said.

  ‘One thing,’ he said, bending down and retrieving a stout staff, ‘I’m still weak. It helps me walk.’

  They joined Ceinwen on the ledge and she signalled Morveren to lead the ascent back up the slope. As Ethain passed her she snatched the knife from his belt saying, ‘You won’t be needing this.’

  Ethain glared at her as she tossed the knife down into the ravine.

  ‘We’ll protect you now,’ she said staring into his shifting eyes.

  Despite Ceinwen being the more diminutive of the two women Ethain shared Morveren’s horse. Ceinwen had pointed out that Morveren’s ho
rse was the stronger but the real reason was that she could not stomach the thought of Ethain being so close to her.

  The journey took them four days. When they found shaded, cooler places to sleep Ceinwen insisted that either Morveren or herself should keep guard claiming that Ethain was in no fit state to stand watch.

  They took the road to the deserted Caer Sulis and then along the Westway to where it met the Isis. They followed the river upstream to the foot of the Downs before ascending up to the Ridgeway. The sun still burned down from a cloudless sky but their shadows were already noticeably beginning to lengthen as the summer edged on.

  They could see the blue haze of smoke from the cooking fires hanging in the still air above Caer Cadarn from several miles away and guessed that those who remained there must be curing haunches of meat; either that or the war band had returned. They re-tallied the time they had been away on their search for Ethain and reckoned the latter to be unlikely. They had not seen another living person, except for Merdynn and Ethain, in the whole time they had been away and it felt strange to be returning back to the unmistakable signs of habitation.

  Ceinwen stopped her horse and it took the opportunity to wander to the verge of the path and taste the tall, yellowed grass that flanked the Ridgeway. Ethain slipped from behind Morveren and disappeared behind some nearby bushes, the unfamiliar abundance of relatively rich food was causing him some discomfort.

  Morveren turned her horse and nudged it towards her companion. ‘It feels odd coming back, doesn’t it?’ she said ruffling her horse’s mane.

  Ceinwen nodded, ‘The others have been fighting the Adren while we’ve been wandering around an empty Wessex.’

  ‘Not quite empty,’ Morveren corrected, trying to keep her mind from worrying about Morgund and the others.

  ‘We can’t mention anything about Merdynn or what he said about Ethain,’ Ceinwen reiterated.