Corbin tried his best to relax. “You’re right. But little Isa will be upset with us if she knows we attended such an event without her. She complains that we’ve kept her too sheltered since bringing her back to life from the Otherworld.”
Mara nodded. “She’s nearly seven-years-old. I suppose we should let her spend some time in the villages.”
A cold shudder ran down Corbin’s back. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet. She’s still too young to protect herself, and the villages are yet too dangerous. Let’s keep her innocence protected for now. You never know when danger will find us.”
They left the horses to graze and followed the peasants. The village of Silver River was protected by a wide moat that stretched across three sides, with a pale riverbed that, in the light of day, made the water shine like silver.
The farthest gate of the village that met dry land stretched down a long slope into an old copper mine. After the Romans abandoned the mines and retreated, the remaining tribes seized them, becoming one of the only producers of copper for jewelry, pots, and farming tools in the realm.
Corbin and the others waited as the huge cart rumbled over the bridge to the front gate. The doors were wide open, but a blockade of men-at-arms stood near the entrance, searching all who entered. They were not the usual guards of Silver River. These men were better armed, with an unwelcoming stare. One of them, adorned with a hood of chain mail, lifted the large piece of cloth covering the ox cart. He inspected the bundles of fresh wheat grass, stabbed at one of them with his dagger, and with a nod he motioned for the carter to pull through.
When the rest of the peasants had been inspected and ushered into the village, Mara stepped forward. Corbin was still uneasy about entering the village on such an occasion, despite Mara’s assurances. There would be guards on watch and travelers from all over the realm.
Corbin motioned for the others to stay back while he joined Mara. She gave one of the guards a sly smile. His eyes raked over her, moving from top to bottom like she was the finest cut of meat he’d ever seen with her dark hair, delicate features, and feminine curves. He rubbed his hands together and was soon joined by two of his comrades.
“All who enter must go through a search before entering the village,” said the guard.
He took a step toward Mara, completely ignoring Corbin, when she put her hand up to stop him. Corbin watched as her olive-colored eyes began to blaze like the sun. The guard froze, as did the two beside him, entranced by her power.
Mara smirked and dropped her hand. “My friends and I carry no weapons and we mean this village no harm. You have inspected us all and found nothing of suspicion. In fact, you don’t even see us,” Mara said in her sweet voice.
The guard’s mouth gaped slightly, and his eyes never blinked.
“Now, you will let us through and forget about us the moment we cross the threshold, do you understand?”
The guard nodded slowly.
“Excellent,” she said, turning back and winking.
Corbin shook his head with a grin. While most Dia possessed the ability to compel humans, only Mara could manage to mesmerize several at a time.
He took her by the hand as they passed through the gates, and the moment they entered the village, Mara and Corbin invoked the gift of the veil, preventing mortals from seeing them as anything more than human.
The village was bustling with activity. Ox carts filled with offerings of spring vegetables, baskets of apples, bags of ground wheat, and bundles of flowers took up the little space left for the many travelers who’d come to attend the wedding. More men, like the guards at the gate, strolled through the village, shouldering people as they walked by.
“They must be the eastern guards,” Corbin muttered to Mara.
Corbin liked Silver River and had visited it many times since coming to Gwynedd. It was the only village like it he’d ever seen; a world within itself, a place frozen in time. Most of the village huts were built with stone and adorned with copper roofs—a sign of the remarkable wealth of Silver River.
The warlord, Ebrill, and his father before him, protected the territory and the miles of land around it from the barbarians and slave traders. And the riches the mine provided kept the villagers and those under the lord’s control his loyal servants.
But the previous year, when the sickness broke out in the village, it took many lives, including half of the men who served as Ebrill’s guards.
Corbin stood for a moment and observed the village, seeing none of the terror that the fever must have caused. The village had come back to life with hope, and the union between Silver River and the eastern tribe should further guarantee its survival.
To most people it was a day of joy. But Corbin knew better. From the look of the guards, this was not a tribe looking for a peaceful union. This was a band of warlords looking to take over a failing empire.
A carnyx, a tall s-shaped trumpet used for ceremonies and war, sounded in the distance, and a drumbeat called everyone’s attention towards the largest house in the village. Annora clapped her hands excitedly and pushed her way forward, pulling Ailwen along with her.
“Don’t stray too far,” Corbin warned as they all moved closer to the ceremony.
“Why are you so uneasy?” Mara asked. “It’s good that we spend some time among the living. We’ve isolated ourselves for too long.”
Corbin considered what she said. “You’re right,” he said, touching her arm. “Annora is elated. I don’t think she’s ever seen a wedding like this.”
“Have you?” Mara asked.
“Once, in my village. The lord’s first wife died in childbirth. He married her sister soon after.”
Mara arched an eyebrow. “Her sister?”
Corbin nodded. “It is the custom in the north. If the lady’s sister is unmarried, the lord may take her as a bride if his wife has passed. Were there no noble marriages in Moorthrop?”
Mara’s eyes darkened for a moment. There was still pain in the mention of the place of her girlhood. It wasn’t as hidden as she tried to make it seem.
“We had no nobility. Only the king’s enforcers. ” She looked over the crowd. “Where have Barrett and Gareth gone?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“They went off down the alley to the stall selling ale. We won’t see them for a while,” Corbin said.
When the drumbeat bouncing off the copper roofs finally stopped, the village fell silent. Several young men dressed in tunics of red and gold assembled near the altar in front of the great house, and began to play their wooden flutes in a lilting, hollow melody.
The crowd parted at the sound of marching, and down the path of onlookers came a parade of soldiers ushering the groom—a stout man with a face like a wild boar. He was adorned in fine silks, with a ceremonial sword hung at his side.
When he was at the front of the crowd, the music stopped and silence once again blanketed the crowd. The drumming started again in four count beats, and the door to the great house swung open. A woman began to sing a chant and Lord Ebrill emerged—his gray hair sitting in sparse strands on his shoulders—to stand before the groom.
Despite his withered condition, he wore a broad smile of yellowed teeth and held out his arm to receive his daughter. The crowd parted again as the singing woman’s voice rose higher, and Alianor, the bride, accompanied by two maids, made her way down the path and up the platform. She was just a young girl. Her rosy cheeks and gentle smile made her seem much too young to marry the man who was at least twice her age. But if that bothered her, it didn’t show on her face. She held her head high as she walked the steps and took her father’s arm, standing in full view of the awed crowd.
She pulled out the folds of her pale rose dress and bowed to her father as he placed a ring of delicate white flowers on her head and set a small bundle in her hand.
There was a pause as she turned to the crowd again, giving them a moment to gaze upon her, then her father led her down the steps to
her awaiting groom, who glanced at her only a moment.
“This is a glorious day,” Ebrill said, his voice quivering with age. “A glorious day, indeed. This village has fought to overcome a scourge fiercer than war and deadlier than the wrath of the gods. We have survived. And in the wake of our survival, we have grown.” He looked to his new son and the troop of men scattered around the village. “We are stronger now than ever before, and will not become a forgotten memory like so many of our brethren throughout the realm.” Ebrill cleared his throat and continued. “The gods did not bless me with a son of my own to carry on the work of this village, but he did bless me with a fair daughter whose marriage has brought us Padrig and the many sons of the realm he brings with him to protect us.” Ebrill reached out and the maid standing behind him placed a ring in his hand. “Under the watchful gaze of the gods, I bless this marriage with fertility and prosperity. May you have many sons to carry on your name.”
He handed the ring to Padrig, which the groom then placed on Alianor’s finger.
“By placing this ring on your bride’s finger, you are bound in the eyes of the gods.”
After Alianor and Padrig exchanged their vows, Ebrill rested a hand on each of them. “By witness of all who are present, I proclaim you as husband and wife.”
The village erupted in cheers as the flutes and drums all sounded out at the same time. Annora clapped her hands as the newly married pair walked rather uncomfortably, hand-in-hand, down the corridor of villagers.
Corbin smiled, and for a second, felt a pinch of melancholy. Before the invasion of his own boyhood home, life had been like this; simple and happy. Of course, he knew mortal life wasn’t always so easy; it was hard, dangerous, and uncertain—but it had purpose. Men farmed the lands or went to war; women became mothers, raised children and managed households. He always saw himself in a village like this, with a wife and children to raise. But discovering he was a Dia changed all of that. Now he had a greater burden to bear, others to protect, and an even more uncertain future ahead of him.
It wasn’t his duty as the protector of Dia that discouraged him, it was the isolation that came with it. Since leaving Valenia, they’d been in hiding, secluded high on a mountain in an ancient sidhe. It was a beautiful place, but it was lonely. Corbin knew this wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. He was the one who wanted to keep everyone safe. He couldn’t risk any mortals discovering them. And he well knew that the more time they spent in villages like this, the more likely it was bad things might happen.
Still, the thought wouldn’t leave his mind that perhaps, one day, he and Mara might be able to settle in a village like this, with a handsome little cottage, and start a family of their own. He wanted children that knew nothing of heartache and treachery, but only that they were Dia, descended from gods, with gifts far greater than any mortal heart could imagine.
He put an arm around Mara. “I’m glad we decided to come see the celebration. It’s a nice place, don’t you think?”
Mara nodded. “It does have its charms.” There was a note of contention in her voice.
On the eastern side of the village, a feast was being laid out. Tables of wild boar, goose, mutton, trenchers of bread, and ale were to keep the villagers and travelers in high spirits for the rest of the day and well in to the night.
“We should be going before it gets dark,” Corbin said.
“Oh, but can’t we stay just a little while longer?” Annora pleaded.
“No,” Mara said, “we must be getting back to Snow Hill. Drake and Isa will start to worry soon.”
Annora pouted. “Very well.”
Ailwen put a hand on Annora’s back. “Come, let’s go round up my father and Gareth,” he said, taking Annora by the hand. “If we don’t get them now, we’ll have to carry them back to Ayrith.”
Barrett and Gareth were on their fourth jug of ale when Corbin found them at one of the beer stalls. The twilight cast an amber sheath on the village, and newly lit torches sent streams of black smoke into the sky. They’d emerged from the dense crowd and headed towards the gates when Corbin heard a distant roar of falling earth.
Both he and Mara stopped and looked back. The villagers appeared unaware of the sound. Corbin glanced behind him and then all around, searching for the source of the sound when a second loud rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. This time, the villagers took notice and froze as the sound rippled through the air.
“It’s coming from the copper mine,” Mara said with a furrowed brow.
As the villagers looked towards the farthest wall, several young boys ran through the gates, shouting for help.
“They’re trapped,” one of the boys screamed, pointing to the plume of rocky dust rising up.
This sent the villagers into a frenzy as they all rushed towards the back gate.
Corbin looked to Barrett, Ailwen, and Gareth. “Get the horses and bring them around to the mine. Take Annora with you. Mara and I will meet you on the other side.”
Barrett gave a nod and turned on his heel.
“I will come with you,” Ailwen said to Corbin. “You may need my help.”
Corbin nodded and they followed Mara through the gates and over the hill. The ground had settled from the collapse, but dust still hung heavy in the air. Through it, Corbin saw the caved in crest of the mine. If anyone was trapped in there, they weren’t sure to survive.
They moved closer to the front of the spectators. Ebrill and his men, along with Padrig and his soldiers, stood before the collapsed hill, arguing about what to do.
“There are small boys trapped in there,” Ebrill pleaded. “You must send your men in after them.”
Padrig peeled off his embroidered gloves, worn only for the wedding ceremony. “I am not risking my men to save some foolish boys. What were they doing in the mines in the first place?”
“We were playing hide and seek,” said a wide-eyed boy. “Thomas, Aerfen, and Collen went into the mine to hide, but then we heard the rocks falling, and when it stopped, they didn’t come out.”
“My boys are in there,” cried a hysterical woman.
There was another low ripple through the land and a heap of sandy rock fell to the ground.
Padrig shook his head. “I am not sending my men in there. It’s a death sentence.”
“But you must,” Ebrill begged, his age showing through his desperate eyes.
Padrig rolled his eyes. “You should be more worried about our arrangement,” he growled. “What use is a collapsed mine to me now?”
By this time some of the village men had pushed forward with picks, axes, and hammers. Many of these men had spent years digging within the mines and knew the layout well, but none would survive if the rocks continued to fall.
The scene was chaos. Women cried out for their children, hoping no more had gotten trapped, while men ran forward to help. Padrig’s men stood by, watching with disinterest.
“Follow me,” Corbin said to Mara and Ailwen. “Mara, you handle the villagers. Ailwen and I will get the boys out.”
They approached Ebrill as he helplessly watched his people struggle to move the heavy rocks.
“How deep is the mine?” Corbin asked him.
Ebrill was too distraught to even look at Corbin. “It’s not deep, but it’s wide.”
Corbin nodded to Ailwen and the two of them marched towards the mine. The eyes of the village were on them, so Corbin made sure to move at a mortal pace. At the bottom of the pit, the village men struggled to move the heavy stones covering the opening. Over the sound of the shouts and rocks being thrown aside, Corbin heard a cry come from within the fallen cave. “Ailwen, follow me around the other side. There must be another way in.”
Corbin grabbed a nearby torch, handed it to Ailwen, and without catching the attention of the other men, they crept down the sloping hill, around to the other side of the mine. Corbin stopped and listened, moving towards the hollow sound of crying until he found a place in the rock that had been cover
ed by a heavy stone.
“It’s an old entrance,” Ailwen said, moving the torch closer. “Can you move it?”
Corbin rolled up his sleeves and removed the sword from his side, setting it down on the ground. He moved to one side of the stone and began to push with all his strength, but the stone wouldn’t budge.
Ailwen set the torch up in between two boulders and joined Corbin in pushing, but his mortal strength offered little aid. After several attempts, Corbin stepped back, breathing heavily.
“Stand aside,” he said to Ailwen.
When Ailwen was clear of the stone, Corbin took a deep breath and called upon his Light. Another cry from within the cavern escaped through the cracks in the stone, giving Corbin added determination. As he drew on his Light, his palms glowed blue with power, and with another deep breath, he threw all of his weight into the stone.
His heart raced and he clenched his teeth as he pushed on it until finally, a scraping sound came from beneath the stone. It shifted, and as he gained momentum, the stone broke loose from its place. With a hard thrust, Corbin pulled the stone from the wall and pushed it away so that it tumbled down the outside of the cavern, breaking in to smaller pieces as it smashed against the rock.
Ailwen picked up the torch and handed Corbin his sword as the two of them entered the mine. The cavern was dark and full of dust that filled Corbin’s mouth and nostrils. Large pieces of rock lay strewn about the ground, blocking whatever path had once been there.
“Hold the torch high,” Corbin said, “and watch your step.”
Small rocks dropped down from the fragile roof as they made their way to the other side. Corbin had no trouble navigating the piles of boulders. Ailwen remained close behind. Ahead of them, they could hear the sound of the hammers on the mouth of the cave, causing the walls to tremble and rain dust.
Corbin followed the sound of the cries when he came upon a pile of boulders. “It’s coming from in there,” he said to Ailwen, motioning for him to bring the torch closer. Corbin and Ailwen jumped down and began to remove the rocks. When they’d cleared an opening, Ailwen held the torch over the hole to reveal two boys trapped inside.
The Embers of Light Page 4
