Chapter Fourteen
When the color came back to Owain’s face, it also contorted into savage fury. He began in a low threatening tone and ended in a roar. “Where are they? Get my sword! I’ll kill every last one of them!”
“Ay lad, simmer a bit. We no can go rushin’ in on Legionnaires.” The horrified look on Cairn’s face had something to do with the fact that their roles had instantly changed. He was trying to calm the person who was always trying to calm him. “Si’ down a bit an’ tell us what has ye roarin’ like a sore tooth bruin.”
“I can’t sit. They have Arthes. It’s my fault. I have to go. I have to save her.”
“Ye know the lass then, lad?” Cairn asked.
Morgen remained silent, shocked by the sudden transformation of the quiet man who had become a guest in their home that morning.
“She’s my…” he wasn’t sure how to explain it. “It’s Arthes, we’re in love. It’s my fault.”
His fury had been like a sudden explosion; the original violence gave way to a steady blaze. Eriu promised she’d be unharmed! He struggled to understand how Eriu could have promised him that and yet, she’d been taken captive by them.
Once Owain collapsed to a chopping block beside the woodshed, Morgen stepped forward, taking a sideways glance at Cairn as he spoke. “There are others raging along with you. Bring them together and make whatever you do count. Let’s have out supper and make a plan. If you rush off like you are now, it will only get you killed and maybe the girl too.”
The gentle voice of the older man reminded him of his mother trying to calm him whenever his fury raged out of control. With his eyes closed, he fought to maintain control, but all he could see was Arthes face with tears running down her cheeks. It wasn’t helping. He let out a long, low roar of anger, rose up from the stump and started pacing back and forth rapidly. With all of his strength he fought against the fury building inside of him.
“Will he be okay?” Morgen said in a low tone to Cairn.
“I couldn’t be tellin’ ye. Ne’er seen him this mad befer, bu’ I’d hate te be one o’ those wretchin’ dogs an’ have te face him.”
“We’ll go to table and talk,” Owain said after a few minutes, transforming from wild fury to calculating savagery.
“Bu’ I’m ne’er been more afraid o’ him than I am now,” Cairn whispered as he and Morgen trailed along behind Owain, nearly running to keep up.
They sat down at the table and watched Owain seething. His mind was racing forward at the same time that he fought back his fury. No one said anything, including Dyna, who had voicelessly questioned her husband and was waved off from asking.
Though the smell of fresh bread and the stew had stirred up his appetite when he’d awakened, Owain didn’t touch the meal that was placed in front of him. The thought of comfortably dining while his Arthes was enduring some horrible fate at the hands of his enemy turned his stomach into a tightly tangled ball of knots.
“Where did they take her? How many are there? How is she?” Owain fired of the questions in rapid succession while the others dug into their stew.
“Lads have been sent te fin’ those thing out,” Cairn replied.
“They were told to come here as soon as they had news,” Morgen added.
“You might as well eat, Owain,” Dyna said. “You’ll need…” She stopped in mid-sentence withering under his glare. Morgen looked across at her and shook his head.
Owain pushed back his chair, stood, retrieved his sword and the whetting stone from his pouch. The rest of dinner was serenaded by the eerie grate and ringing sound of Owain sharpening his sword.
The sound and feel of pulling the stone along the edge of the blade helped him gain control of the explosive rage inside of him. The image of tears on his beloved Arthes’ face hung about his shoulders like a mantel, but there was no need of any warmth from such. The furnace inside him was keeping his blood at a steady boil.
He had regained most of his calm by the time the others finished their meal and Dyna cleared the dishes from the table. He was about to speak when they heard the sound of hooves on the path outside. Morgen moved quickly to the door, opening it just as a man started to call out. “Come in quickly,” he said.
The man froze when he entered the room and Owain looked up at him. “It is you,” he whispered. “The leader of our people.”
“What news do you have?”
“There are others coming with more and some have stayed behind to keep watch and have more information for us in the morning.”
“We may not have until morning,” Owain snapped. “Tell me what you know.”
“The girl’s name is…”
“I know the girl’s name,” Owain interrupted. “Where are the keeping her? How many are there? How does she fair? What are their plans?”
“There are two dozen of them,” the man began, realizing that he had better get his report given before the sword in the chief’s hand was used on him. “They have her in a fortified house on the edge of the village. She seemed to be unharmed the last that anyone saw of her. They’ve made their plans quite clear actually.”
“Then tell us what they are,” Owain ordered keeping hold over his simmering anger.
“The commander, he called himself Marcus, issued a challenge, actually,” the man began. “He tripled the reward on your head and promised to keep the girl, Arthes, unharmed as long as you reported to Caerleon and turned yourself in to Lucius Civillis.”
Instinctively, Owain knew that Marcus was the man who he had faced across the open water of the channel as the boats retreated from the failed battle. The room became quiet as he considered what he had just been told. A challenge had been issued and Owain had every intention of taking it up, but he would make certain of Arthes’ safety before he faced the man. How would he rescue her and bring her to safety? Suddenly it hit him and he smiled.
“They’ve already made their error,” he whispered.
“Can ye explain te the res’ o’ us what tha’ is, lad?” Cairn asked.
“I’ll explain in a moment.” He looked at the man who had brought the news. “How many men can we have ready by morning?”
“50, maybe, a hundred or more if we had more time.”
“Get every man you can muster and have them make haste to the hag’s hut on the Rhondda. Hurry! They’ll start out at first light and we must be organized and waiting for them by mid-morning.”
“The hag’s hut on the Rhondda, yes chief.” The man hurried to leave.
“The hag’s head on the Rhondda, lad?” Cairn asked. “Tis a fair walk from here.”
“Then I suggest we run,” Owain responded.
Chapter Fifteen
Dawn’s light had no joy in it for Arthes. There was no warmth and it did not touch off the chorus of blackbirds’ songs. It’s warmth did not spread across her blankets and she did not feel its gentle tickle upon her lips. For her, there was no longer a rising sun.
Though she had not been physically harmed, Arthes had cried through the night until there were no more tears to cry. Over and over in her mind, she replayed the sight of her beloved Elsie falling to the ground and the dark crimson that spread across the ground beneath her. She couldn’t stop the torment of the flames roaring to life and devouring the barn and later the house, which she had thought would be safe if she led the Legionnaires down the path to the goatherd’s shack.
During the entire walk, she’d prayed that Owain had heard her screams and had fled, but she feared that he would spring out of the woods at any moment and attempt to attack the heavily armed soldiers who surrounded her. Please run, Owain. Run. She’d repeated the words over and over again in her mind willing him to flee.
They’d arrived at the stone and she had pointed through the brambles toward where the goatherd’s shack was located. With a knife to her throat, the commander of the Legionnaires waited with her and she let the tears stream down her face while she kept her sobs silent. Please don’t be there
Owain. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself for betraying him if he had not fled.
To her relief, the soldiers returned a few moments later and announced that the shack was empty.
“No matter,” the commander said. “We’ve got the girl. We’ll make him come to us.”
Arthes had sunk to her knees. “No please. No. Don’t use me to get to him. Just kill me. I will not be the cause of this.”
“You might get your wish in the end,” the commander said through clenched teeth. “But until then, you’ll be a crust of bread for trapping the rat.”
They had gone back down the path and she had been turned over to another of the soldiers while the commander mounted his horse. She had been hauled up into the saddle in front of him none too gently, and then she had heard another of his sharp commands ring in her ears.
“Burn the cottage too!”
Numb from crying and enclosed inside of a carriage that was typically used to transport prisoners, she had lost all hope to live. If Owain kept running and never returned, she would not be able to go on without out him. If he tried to rescue her and was killed, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. And if he turned himself in to ransom her… Another sob caught in her throat, choking her. She prayed for a miracle, but she had no idea from where she might expect it to come.
The light of the morning had moved across the sky while she bumped along inside the carriage. Neither answered prayers nor tears would come. She only endured the monotony of the sound of the creaking carriage and the jangling trace-chains.
When she heard the first of the Legionnaires cry out, she ignored it, but then there was a loud roar of men’s voices that rang out all around her. She tried in vain to peer through the bars of the carriage to make out what was going on. Instantly, she knew who it was who had attacked.
“Owain!” she called out through the bars. As she struggled to search for her beloved, the driver atop the carriage whipped the horses into a gallop, which tossed her to the floor. Fighting against the violent bouncing as the carriage rushed forward as fast as its horses could draw it, she rose up, gripped the bars tightly and then began to call out in earnest. “Owain! Owain! Owain!”
As she called out, she heard the thundering of hooves on the opposite of the carriage and stumbled across to see what was going on over there. As she fell, she saw the legs of a man as he scrambled to get atop the carriage while the horse he had been riding continued to gallop, riderless alongside. There was a struggle overhead and after a few moments, a soldier’s body tumbled from above and then bounced along in the rocks beside the road. “Owain!” she screamed when she finally regained her feet and got a grip on the bars on the other side.
The carriage began to slow and finally came to a stop. She took a deep breath and moved over to the other side of the carriage to get another look on the other side. She fell back with a start when a face suddenly appeared from above.
“You called, my love?”
“Owain!” she squealed with delight, moving back up to the bars of the carriage.
“Stand back, my love.”
With several heavy swings of his sword, he hacked the lock from the carriage door and then leapt down to the ground and pulled it open, extending his hand to her.
Arthes did not put her hand in his, instead, she leapt from the carriage. Thankfully, Owain adjusted to the surprise dismount and caught her in his strong arms, taking a step backward to keep from tumbling over as she struck hard against his chest.
“I knew you’d come!” she exclaimed. “Oh thank God you came!”
She pressed her lips against his and felt him respond, but only for a moment.
“Arthes, my love, I could do this all day long, but we really need to be riding away from here.”
The horse from which he’d leapt moments before had stopped running once it discovered that there was no rider on its back. Seeing the sweet tall grass alongside the road, it had lowered its head and begun to crop the grass. The din of battle still raged back along the road as Owain rushed to the horse, with Arthes in his arms and placed her on its back.
He slipped into the saddle behind her, wrapping his arms around her while he took the reins. “My friends will keep them busy a while longer while we escape,” he told her, putting spurs to the horse and galloping into a narrow ravine that led into a thick wood.
Chapter Sixteen
“Their song is so beautiful,” Arthes whispered as they rode along a narrow trail through the thick wood with Owain’s arms wrapped around her. Their pace had slowed to a slow and steady one once they were far away from where Owain had rescued her from the carriage.
“It isn’t half as beautiful as the sound of your voice,” Owain replied in a husky tone. He was fighting back the built up emotions that had finally begun to calm within him. He’d gone through them all since the setting of the sun the night before and they had taken their toll on him. With Arthes in his arms, there was only one emotion left in him, but it was trying to burst out of him in a number of strange ways.
“How did you find me?” she asked after several moments of silence.
“I trusted my people, just as my father advised me to do.”
“You talked to your father?”
“I did?”
“When?”
“He came to me in the night and told me to leave the goatherd’s shack.”
“Your father came to you in the night? Where was he? How did he get there? Where did he go?”
“That was a lot of questions at once,” Owain chuckled. “I should probably explain that I don’t have an ordinary father.”
“Does anyone?” she giggled.
“Probably not like mine.”
“What is so strange about your father?”
“To begin with, he isn’t my real father, but he’s the man who helped raise me, so I call him father.”
“What happened to your real father?”
“He died along with my mother while I was still a baby, but I was rescued by Eriu, the man who raised me.”
“You have neither father nor mother then?”
“Not in the normal sense,” he replied. “But they raised me well and prepared me to take back my kingdom. So far, I haven’t done well on that account.”
“You’ve done quite well by my reckoning,” Arthes laughed.
“How have I done well?”
“You’ve rescued the princess.”
Their conversation stopped as they came to the edge of the wood and Owain drew up to look out into the open valley beyond. It would do no good for him to rescue her and then be trapped by Roman troops and have them both captured. He made certain that there was no one in sight before tentatively riding out of the woods and into the valley. Trust your people. He repeated to himself.
“Did you hear anything about my father and mother?” Arthes asked after they started off again.
“I did not,” Owain replied. “Eriu said that they would not be at home when the Roman’s came and that you would be unharmed.”
“How did he know those things?”
“I told you that I didn’t have an ordinary father.”
“Is he a wizard or diviner or something like that?”
“I guess you could say that. He is an ancient. I have no estimate of his age. He speaks to the fae people, though I do not know if he is one. He and the woman that he loved took me in to save my lineage from extinction and prepare me to rule my kingdom.”
“The woman he loved? Did he not make her his wife?”
“It’s very complicated,” Owain responded. “I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but I called her mother and she cared for me from the time that I was brought to them until I was made to leave her home.”
“Made to leave your mother’s home?”
“I’ve been commanded to never go back,” he whispered.
“I don’t understand? What great sin would cause a mother to turn her back…”
“I can’t talk a
bout it anymore,” Owain interrupted her. He wished that he could tell her the whole story, but it was both painful and difficult to understand.
“Where will we go now?” Arthes asked after several minutes had passed.
“There is a place on the other side of the wood from your cottage. We will go there and perhaps we can learn something of your parents, but I fear we won’t be safe, even there, for very long.”
“Do you still fear being betrayed?” she asked.
“My father told me of my betrayer,” he replied. “He is not of our people. He is not even of this world.”
“I did see him then,” Arthes responded. “The hooded, faceless figure in the wood. I saw it only an instant, but I will never forget that image.”
“I fear that we will find neither peace nor safety as long as Takud continues to betray me to the Romans.”
“How do you know his name?”
“My father told it to me.”
They rode in silence for a very long time. Owain felt Arthes begin to slump in the saddle and then heard her breathing deeply and she allowed her body to lean back into his. He too was exhausted, but was determined to push forward until he made it to the home of Morgen and Dyna. He was glad that he had slept as long as he did in Dylan’s bed the day before or he might have fallen asleep along with her and tumbled from the saddle.
The sun showed only the last, tiny orange sliver above the western horizon when Owain and Arthes rode into the yard of Morgen and Dyna. Owain pulled up on the rains and slipped from the saddle before helping Arthes to the ground.
“Oh you poor dear,” Dyna said wrapping a blanket around Arthes shoulders as she guided her into the cottage. “You’re completely rung out, no doubt.”
Owain watched Dyna lead Arthes away, trusting the older woman’s expert care and started toward the barn with his tired mount. Morgen went along with him, taking the reins from him to lead the horse.
“Have you news of the Scot and the others?” Morgen asked.
“I do not,” Owain replied. “They were keeping the Legionnaires busy while I rode off with Arthes. From what I saw, our boys might have wiped them out. Though I know their commander escaped.”
The Dragon (Sons of Camelot Book 3) Page 6
