Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  Seren looked at the child in her arms still somewhat in awe that she had given birth to the life she now held, ‘She’s part Cithol, part Briton; part me, part Arthur.’

  ‘And ruler of both.’

  ‘Arthur hasn’t seen her yet,’ Seren said, the sadness stealing its way back in.

  ‘I meant Cithol and Briton.’

  ‘Oh. Well, there’s not many left of us to rule is there?’

  ‘More survived the downfall of the Veiled City than you might think.’

  ‘And how many of the Britons will survive?’

  Merdynn sat back and the baby squalled its disapproval. Seren swayed her in her arms until she settled once more.

  ‘Have you chosen a name for her yet?’

  ‘You know it’s our custom to wait for a year before naming our young. It was you who named me after all. How can you name a child before you know its nature?’

  Merdynn laughed, ‘How indeed. It’s a very serious business.’

  ‘Don’t mock us or our customs,’ Seren replied but her smile robbed the words of any reproach.

  The baby soon fell asleep and Merdynn suggested he take her to the cot in the other room where Aelfric was endeavouring to cook a last meal before they left for the ships. Seren was surprised by the old man’s gentleness as he gently lifted the baby and carried her away.

  Seren settled herself in her chair hoping to get some sleep while the baby slept. She wondered when the Britons would come to fetch them to board the boats. At least the packing for the voyage had been easy, she thought; they owned nothing. She opened her eyes and saw Merdynn watching her from the doorway, the baby still in his arms.

  ‘Arthur would have come to see you both if he possibly could, you know that don’t you?’ he said softly.

  ‘Perhaps when we’re safe in the Western Lands, when all this is over.’

  Merdynn nodded but neither believed it likely.

  *

  Gereint looked back across the mud flats of the Estuary. The rest of the war band were filing past him as they led their horses up the steep path. The sweeping rain hid most of the wide Estuary and he could no longer see the shifting river that cut its way through the flats. On the far southern bank Elwyn had come up to him and told him that he had just discovered that the legion riders were not trained to swim their horses across rivers.

  Gereint had been loath to have them take the long way round; without the legion’s riders their numbers would be almost halved and he knew the Haven would need every last one of them. He called Hengest and Ceinwen over and briefly sought their opinion. They decided they would lash the legion horses to their more experienced mounts and rig a rope handrail across the river to help the legion’s soldiers to cross.

  They knew it would add to their journey time but hoped the extra hour or two was worth their arriving together. The shifting river was wide and the rains had strengthened its current; two of the legion had drowned trying to cross it but Gereint estimated it had only added an hour to their race for the Haven.

  As the last of the war band filed past him he turned away from the Estuary believing he had made the right choice despite the loss of life.

  Ceinwen felt the same way and as she re-mounted to begin the last leg of the dash for the Haven she wondered how far behind Morveren was. Almost every spare horse from Caer Cadarn had been sent to the Haven and the only mounts not belonging to one of the warriors or legion were two venerable warhorses neither of which were capable of the journey. Morveren had decided to rest her own horse for a day then try to make up the time on those who left before her. Ethain had volunteered to let Morveren take his horse and Ceinwen had been tempted reasoning that it would be much better to have her friend by her side in the coming battle than to have Ethain standing behind her. If it hadn’t been for Arthur’s order to keep Ethain within her sight she would have gladly left him behind.

  She looked around in a sudden panic thinking Ethain might have taken the opportunity to sidle away whilst she had been distracted. He was sitting on his horse a few yards away smiling at her and when the relief showed on her face he laughed out loud. Those around them took heart that he could laugh when they faced such danger but then again, they reasoned, when you’ve fought your way through the Shadow Lands what else was there left to fear?

  He laughed again when he heard their comments and shouted out, ‘The Haven!’ The cry was taken up around him and once again the mad dash for the Haven resumed. Despite her distaste Ceinwen rode as close to him as she could.

  *

  Arthur stood at the crest of the long sloping rise looking back down to the Haven. When he had been sure that the panic of the populace had been channelled into readying the ships he had ridden to the vantage point of the crest taking Morgund and Balor with him. He had then sent the other two onwards to maximise their warning of the approaching Adren army.

  He stared at the scattered barns and pens that littered the gentle slope all the way down to the Haven. Most of them were empty now. He studied the town that was mainly comprised of tightly grouped wooden houses radiating out from the wharves where the tall ships were still berthed. The Haven was impossible to defend. No Uathach raid had ever come this far and it had never been necessary to defend the town and so no defences had ever been built. Even if he had a year Arthur knew that it would be impossible to make the town safe from attack. There were about fifteen thousand sheltering at the Haven but the legion had taken the best of those fit and able to fight and those that now remained would never be able to stand against a ten thousand strong Adren army. The Haven was doomed and it only remained to be seen if the people there were doomed too.

  The far end of the Haven was obscured by the grey curtains of rain that were continually pushed shoreward by the fierce wind from the West. The Mercian sea captains had assured Arthur that it would be possible to use rowed barges to tow the ships out to the open sea where their sails could take them away from land, although their first course would have to take them dangerously close to where the flats of the Estuary began. Even though the unseen sun was already setting towards the eastern horizon the journey west would not normally be undertaken for a few more weeks when the gales from the West settled and lost their ferocity. With the winds as they were now it would be a hard, long journey to the Western Lands.

  Something caught Arthur’s eye and he stared out to the eastern approach to the Haven. He could see horsemen racing towards the town. They were tightly grouped, perhaps four or five of them, and they were pushing their horses hard. He cursed his eyesight and wondered why there should be an advance guard for the war band and how far behind this group the others were.

  He turned his attention back to the North and saw Morgund riding hard towards the crest with Balor trailing some way behind. Adrenaline surged through him but he held his ground and waited for Morgund to draw level.

  ‘How far?’

  ‘Fourteen, fifteen miles,’ Morgund replied between breaths.

  ‘Tell Kenwyn to cast any unloaded supplies into the sea and finish getting everyone on board.’

  Morgund turned to go and Arthur shouted after him, ‘And make sure Seren and the Cithol get aboard one of the ships!’

  Without turning Morgund raised a hand to show he had heard and galloped down to the Haven cursing himself for having forgotten Morveren’s very same message. As Arthur waited for the labouring Balor he stared to the East looking for some sign of the war band.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morgund rode straight for the wharves where Kenwyn was still organising the last of the supplies and told him he had two to three hours to get everyone on board the ships. Kenwyn immediately shouted out the orders for his captains to begin the evacuation. He had fifteen thousand people to embark and only three hours to do it in but he was confident it could be done if people didn’t panic.

  Morgund left him to it and made his way towards the harbour master’s house where the Cithol were quartered. Half-way there he heard hooves and turned
around to see Gwyna racing towards him with Ruraidh and two of her warriors following close behind. He waited for them.

  ‘We’ve been trying to find the Cithol! Do you know where they’re billeted?’ Gwyna shouted as she approached him.

  ‘They’re up at the harbour master’s house – I’m just going there. Why?’

  ‘Arthur had given Morveren a message for the Cithol girl, Seren, but she forgot to pass it on,’ Gwyna smiled and shrugged and Morgund knew exactly what the shrug implied; Morveren’s pretty enough but it was stupid to rely on her for anything. Gwyna knew exactly what she was doing, knowing that the unspoken insult would avert Morgund’s attention away from the plausibility of her answer.

  ‘Where’s the war band – and Morveren?’ Morgund asked trying to hide his dislike of Arthur’s wife.

  ‘A few miles behind us. And Arthur?’

  ‘Up on the ridgeline. The Adren are only hours away.’

  ‘Best hurry then,’ she replied, indicating Morgund to lead the way onwards.

  He nodded and, still smarting from the implied insult to Morveren, led the way up to the harbour master’s house with the Uathach following silently in the driving rain. They dismounted in the courtyard and Morgund knocked on the door before pushing it open.

  Seren started awake at the sudden intrusion and looked around in alarm. When she saw Morgund she relaxed and sat upright, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. She looked up wary once again as the others filed into the room behind him.

  ‘Is it time to leave? And do we need so many guards?’ she asked, wondering why so many had come to deliver the simple message.

  ‘Yes and no,’ Gwyna answered from behind Morgund as she drew a knife from her belt.

  Morgund heard the unsuppressed hatred in her voice and was turning to face her when she drove her knife upwards into his back. Blood coughed from his mouth as he cried out. He staggered forwards reaching for the knife he had lost to Balor but Ruraidh hacked him down and he collapsed to his knees. Ruraidh gripped his sword with both hands and plunged it down through Morgund’s shoulder. He had to plant his foot on Morgund’s back to pull his sword free.

  Seren stared at the sudden horror and Gwyna turned to face her, ‘Yes it’s time for you to leave, but no, where you’re going you won’t need any guards.’

  She took a pace towards Seren who stumbled backwards, ‘Why?’ she asked, staring from Morgund’s prone body to the advancing Gwyna.

  ‘I’ll not have you or your bastard whelp stealing from me what’s mine.’

  ‘Stealing what?’ Seren asked now focused on the danger before her.

  ‘I’m not having you or Arthur’s bastard interfering with my right to rule. Now, where is the half-caste whelp?’

  Seren was unable to stop her eyes flicking towards the room where her baby lay sleeping.

  Gwyna laughed and motioned for Ruraidh to bring the infant to her. There was a struggle in the other room and Ruraidh returned with Terrill at sword point.

  ‘Where’s the child?’ Gwyna spat at him.

  ‘There’s no one in there, just an empty cot and this bastard ghost quivering in a corner.’

  ‘Where’s the child?’ Gwyna repeated to Seren advancing with her knife poised before her.

  Seren’s mind panicked, where was her child if not in the next room? Suddenly she realised and she smiled coldly at the Uathach girl, ‘You’ll never find her, not now. She’s safe.’

  Gwyna snarled, ‘You’ll tell me and you’ll think childbirth was painless before I finally let you die.’

  Terrill caught Seren’s eye and shouted, ‘Run!’ At the same instant and with surprising speed he dived forward away from Ruraidh’s sword and snatched up a chair. He swung it around in an arc just as Ruraidh rushed at him, catching him full in the face. Seren darted for the doorway. Terrill threw the chair at one of the Uathach warriors and flung himself at Gwyna. She buried her knife in his chest and whipping it free threw it at Seren who was already half-way through the door. It caught her in the base of the skull and she crashed forward, dead before she hit the floor.

  Gwyna screamed in rage and kicked out at the dying Terrill.

  ‘Pick him up,’ she said, pointing to the unconscious Ruraidh with obvious contempt, disgusted at how easily Terrill had managed to get away from him.

  She strode into the other room to make sure that it was indeed empty and kicked over the cot with another howl of rage before leaving for the courtyard. Behind her Aelfric slipped from his hiding place and stepping over the upturned cot he hurried from the room.

  Gwyna stood by the courtyard wall where Seren had earlier watched Arthur quell the panicking crowd. The cold wind from the West still drove the lowering clouds landwards and the heavy rain slanted across the thousands now gathering on the wharf. She knew it would be hopeless to search for the infant among so many people but Seren had said the child was safe; it could only mean that she had sent it on ahead of her to the ships. Gwyna smiled to herself, if she couldn’t eliminate the threat to her ambitions here then she would have to do so in the West. She went back inside and ordered the others to follow her down to the wharf.

  Once he was sure they were gone Aelfric crept back into the room to see if there was anything to be done for Seren and Terrill. He checked Terrill first then knelt by Seren. Both were dead. He drew the knife out and taking the shawl from her shoulders he wiped the blade clean. He put the knife in his belt and the shawl inside his tunic. He gently turned Seren onto her back and, as he closed her staring green eyes, he slipped the Elk Stone from her around her neck and put it in his pocket. He muttered a promise and with a last look at the two lifeless forms he left the harbour master’s house and made his way through the crowds down to the wharf.

  *

  Arthur and Balor rode down to meet Gereint who was at the head of the approaching war band.

  ‘You made good time!’ Arthur called out as he reined in his horse.

  ‘How far away are the bastards?’

  ‘An hour. Perhaps two,’ Arthur replied as he looked around at the circling warriors, ‘Where’s Gwyna?’

  ‘She must be here by now – she and three of her warriors were a few miles ahead of us.’

  ‘And Morveren?’ Arthur asked looking at Ceinwen.

  ‘She got to us impossibly quickly but her horse nearly died under her – she’s some way behind us.’

  ‘Are we going to face the Adren in open battle?’ Hengest asked.

  ‘Not yet. First we’ll make sure there’s no panic down by the wharf,’ Arthur answered and hauling his horse around headed towards the town and the docks.

  Gwyna was already at the head of the wharf arguing with Kenwyn, ‘Arthur’s ordered me to lead the first ship out of the harbour!’

  ‘He never mentioned that to me but we could certainly use the four of you to help row one of the barges that lead the ships out.’

  ‘Fool! Do you know who I am?’

  ‘Yes, Arthur’s wife,’ he replied, resisting the temptation to elaborate.

  ‘And you think I’m rowing a barge to lead out the first ship?’

  ‘No. That one’s already on its way,’ Kenwyn replied evenly, looking over his shoulder to where the first of the tall ships was swinging away from the stone wharf, ‘But you could help with the second.’

  Gwyna was about to loose a poisonous tirade at him when she heard horses forcing their way through the waiting crowd that milled around them.

  Arthur urged his horse closer to them and stared at Gwyna. She looked away from him and gesturing at the throngs around them said, ‘We thought they might need help controlling the crowd and I might need the rest of my warriors to do so properly – there’s thousands here,’ she replied ignoring Kenwyn’s pointed look at her.

  Arthur’s attention was diverted as Ruraidh swayed in his saddle. He would have fallen if the warrior by his side hadn’t grabbed his arm.

  ‘What happened to him?’ Arthur said indicating Ruraidh’s bruised and bloody face.<
br />
  ‘The fool fell when his horse slipped as we came into town.’

  Arthur studied her for a second knowing that she was hiding something but a sudden disturbance distracted him and he swung around to find the source of the fighting.

  ‘Sort them out then,’ he said indicting the commotion before adding, ‘Have you seen Morgund?’

  ‘He was on his way to deliver a message to the Cithol,’ Gwyna called back and hurried away from him taking her warriors with her.

  He returned his attention to Kenwyn, ‘How long?’

  ‘That’s the second ship away now. Maybe two hours before the last one casts off.’

  ‘You might have an hour but don’t plan on any more than that.’

  The normally mild Kenwyn uttered a foul curse and began shouting at his captains with renewed urgency. Arthur had the uneasy feeling that he had been distracted from something important but having despatched Morgund to see to Seren’s safety and with the Uathach now controlling the crowds, Arthur cast his concern aside and turned his attention to the army bearing down on their position. He ordered the war band to make for the brow of the hill overlooking the Haven. As he was leaving he called out to Kenwyn, ‘Have you seen Laethrig?’

  Kenwyn nodded, the Wessex blacksmith was working in the barges helping to tow the ships out of the harbour, ‘He gave me a message for you – he’s done what you’ve asked him to and it’s where you asked it to be!’

  Arthur raised a hand in acknowledgement and set off after the war band. In the noise and chaos of the crowds he didn’t hear Aelfric shouting to him and the young Anglian, unable to force his way through the mass of people, could only watch as Arthur rode from the town.

  The rain eased as the warriors lined up along the ridge but the heavy, black clouds out to sea promised it would only be a temporary respite. The ground underfoot was already sodden and rivulets of rainwater coursed through the long grass.