Across the Sea (Islands in the Mist Series Book 2)

by J. M. Hofer

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Against the Tide

  Now that the invaders were gone, there was no time to lose. Lucia swam to Seal Cove and emerged cautiously. Seeing the coast was clear, she walked up the rocky path to the grotto and ventured in.

  “Buddug?” she called.

  A hesitant moment later, she heard her friend’s voice.

  “Lucia?”

  Buddug came out, the girls around her, along with several other women and children.

  Lucia sighed with relief. She went to Buddug and embraced her.

  “What’s happened?” Buddug asked.

  Lucia could do nothing but shake her head. “Stay here. I’ll see if it’s safe and come back for you if it is.”

  ***

  Smoke billowed overhead. As Lucia approached the village, the gagging stench of death reached out and grabbed her by the throat.

  She listened carefully for voices speaking her own language. She heard men in the distance, but dared not approach without shoes to run if she needed to. She moved into the castle stealthily, making her way along the corridors to her chamber.

  Hearing no one nearby, she slipped into the room and found her things were still there. Was it truly only last night that she had slept there, peacefully? She put on dry clothes and went to Gareth’s room to search for his pack, which she knew held a good many knives and other useful things in it. She had scolded him for wanting to bring a bag of weapons to a celebration, but, thankfully, he had brought it anyway.

  She went back outside where the wailing of women, children and wounded filled the air. The dead were being counted. She quickly spied Maur’s bulk on the horizon and ran his direction. He was kneeling on the ground.

  “Maur!” she called. He turned around, his nose broken and bleeding.

  “Buddug and the children are safe,” she told him, gasping. “Down at Seal Cove.”

  “Oh, bless you, Great Mother,” he said, looking skyward. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Bless you for not takin’ ‘em all.”

  Not taking them all? Lucia felt her stomach drop. She looked over Maur’s shoulder to see Rhys lying in a pool of blood. Her hands flew to her mouth. “No, no, no…oh, gods…oh, gods…” She burst into tears and fell down on her knees beside him.

  “He fought like a bear, he did!” Maur cried, cradling his son in his arms. “So brave, he was! So brave!” He laid his son back down and covered him with his cloak, and then turned and took her by the shoulders. “We’ll find ‘em, these bastards! We’ll find ‘em and they’ll pay for what they’ve done!”

  She nodded and pulled away. “Maur, I have to look for Bran and my children. Go to your wife and your granddaughters. They’re scared. They need you.”

  Maur nodded, picked up his son, and lumbered back toward the castle.

  Tears streaming down her face, she went in search of her own husband and children, walking past horror after horror—men whose limbs had been hewn off, heads bashed in by shields, chests cleaved by axes, or bellies gored by spears.

  She walked until she spied figures in the distance, lifting the wounded into wagons and wheelbarrows. She ran and found Irwyn among them.

  “Queen Lucia!” Relief washed over his face.

  She scanned the battlefield, her eyes darting back and forth. “Where’s Bran? Have you seen my children?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Bran is pulling our dead from the sea. I am sorry. I have not seen your children.”

  Lucia could do nothing but nod, and took off in the direction of the water, panic rising in her chest. They’re gone. They’re gone. My children are gone.

  “Wait!” Irwyn cried. “I will go with you.”

  Lucia let Irwyn escort her to the shore, where she spied Bran dragging men out of the surf onto the beach. So many dead.

  She ran down to him, calling his name. He heard her and turned. He was covered in blood and sand. One of his eyes was swollen shut and his lower lip and left cheek were split open.

  “Thank the gods!” he cried, grabbing her. He looked her over with his one good eye. “You’re not hurt?”

  “No,” Lucia answered with an impatient shake of her head. “Have you seen the children?”

  Dread flooded her stomach as Bran crushed her to his chest. “I couldn’t stop them,” he finally said in her ear. “They took them. The twins and Taliesin.”

  A wave of desperation drowned her. She pushed away from him and ran down the shore, as if it would somehow slow the terror of what was happening from becoming a reality. All these years of planning, come to nothing!

  “Lucia!” Bran ran after her. He whirled her around to face him. “We don’t have time for this!”

  She was not listening. “I told you we shouldn’t have come!” she lashed out. “I told you, but you wouldn’t listen to me! At home, we have weapons! We had a plan! Now, we’ve lost them! Rhys is dead and we’ve lost our children!” She could not control the flood of relentless thoughts assailing her mind of Gareth being beaten or killed, and Arhianna being raped. She fell to her knees in the sand and began sobbing.

  “Rhys is dead?” Bran asked, his face contorting. “Oh, gods, no. Oh, no…” He threw his head back and let forth a cry of rage, and then looked out to sea, utter helplessness in his eyes and his hands gripped in white-knuckled fists.

  Lucia felt a wave of remorse and stood up. This was not his fault. As much as she wanted someone to blame, she knew nothing could have been done about it. All my visions come to pass. At least he was there, alive, and by her side—she could have been facing this abyss alone. In a burst of regret, she threw her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me…”

  He held her close, and then led her up to the bluff where Irwyn was still standing. “How fast can we get the other ship ready?”

  “We need men to finish the ship,” Irwyn replied skeptically, looking around at bodies littering the shore.

  “If I bring all the Oaks here from Mynyth Aur, how long?”

  “How many men?”

  “A few hundred, at least.”

  “A week or two, then.”

  “A week or two?” Lucia’s heart cringed. Every minute that passes, they’re sailing farther away.

  Irwyn nodded apologetically.

  Bran turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll ride home and bring help.” He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her so tight she could scarcely breathe. “I’ll bring them back. I swear to you, I’ll bring them back, and every one of those loathsome dogs is going to die.”

  She knew from her vision where the children were being taken, and that they would at least survive the first few days of the voyage, but they had no time to lose. She pulled away. “Go, now.”

  He kissed her. “I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her once more in farewell, and then ran toward the smoking towers of Caer Gwythno.

  ***

  Lucia looked across the bluff at all the dead and wounded. She spied Mabyn, the village healer, completely overwhelmed with the injured.

  Seeing she was needed enabled her to shut her panicked thoughts out of her mind. She was not the only one who had lost loved ones that day, and there would surely be more who would perish before the sun rose again. She vowed to do her best to save as many of them as possible.

  She ran over to Mabyn. “How can I help?”

  Mabyn turned and looked up at her. Her hands were covered in blood. She had been doing her best to remove an arrow that was lodged in a young man’s thigh.

  “Thank the gods,” she said. “Boil some water. I need clean bandages. Best do it out here in the field, where all these poor lads are lying. No sense moving them. And blankets. They all need blankets. I’ll leave it to you to work what healing arts you know on those you think you can save. Unfortunately, you’ve got many to choose from. Go to my house and take whatever you need.”

  A few houses had been spared by enemy torches, and,
thankfully, Mabyn’s house was one of them. Knowing Mabyn, there was likely a strong protective spell around it. She was surprised to find nothing inside disturbed either—everything still lay in its place, neatly ordered upon clean shelves. She soon found what she needed and dove in, armed with her basket of herbs and supplies. It was gruesome work, made worse by the relentless and desperate cries for help, yet she had learned long ago how to put sympathy aside and do what needed to be done. Her moons in the battle camp during the war against the cauldron-born had taught her how to dress and treat nearly every kind of wound imaginable, be they sprains, broken bones, cuts, stab wounds or heavy bleeding. More important than that, perhaps, was her knowledge of how to ease pain, for some were far beyond anyone’s ability to heal. Making their final moments less excruciating was a gift she tried to give all who were destined to meet Arawn that night.

  When she and Mabyn were certain anyone who could possibly survive their wounds and injuries had been attended to, they sat down next to one of the cooking fires. Mabyn pulled a flask out from beneath her dress, uncorked it, and passed it to her.

  “Drink, my lady.”

  Lucia did not ask what it was. She took a long swig and felt it burn all the way down into her stomach, taking away the wet chill and calming her nerves. She passed it back with a nod of approval. “Good, that.”

  Mabyn did the same and then let out a long sigh. “They have your children?”

  Lucia nodded silently, fighting back tears, and Mabyn passed her the flask again.

  After a moment, Mabyn began to sing softly, staring into the fire, and Lucia found it comforting. Soon, she felt more relaxed and an idea came to her. “Mabyn?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know of shadow-walking?”

  “Shadow-walking?” She turned toward her with a surprised look and stared at her, long and steady, in the eyes. “I know enough. You wish to look for your children?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t shadow-walked much. I’m afraid to do it without a guide.”

  “Wise, if you’re a novice.” Mabyn nodded. “Come with me.”

  Mabyn heaved her old bones up and led the way back to her little house, giving orders along the way to those who were still attending the wounded.

  She invited Lucia in, and then lit several candles. “Get a fire going, or we’ll freeze. I’ve given away all my blankets.”

  Lucia did as she asked, while Mabyn prepared a few things for the next day’s treatments.

  “Come and sit across from me,” Mabyn beckoned when she was finished. “First, we need to decide upon something we can both picture clearly to look for on the other side. I’ve never met your children, I’m sorry to say, so it must be something else.”

  “Did you see the sails of the ships today?” Lucia asked.

  “The raven, with the Hagalaz stone in its beak. I’ll never forget it,” Mabyn confirmed. “Not even after I’m dead and in the next world.”

  “That, then,” Lucia decided. “Do you think we can find them? The ships?”

  “I do,” Mabyn gave a confident nod. “But first, we must make one another the Pledge. We must rely on each other.”

  Lucia nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. Then I pledge to you, by the Great Mother, no matter what happens, I shall not leave you behind, even if it be at my own soul’s peril to stay. Will you make me the same pledge, Sister?”

  “I will,” Lucia swore. “You can trust me.”

  That was good enough for Mabyn. She nodded and held out her hands, and Lucia took them. “You sail, I shall be your anchor.”

  Lucia nodded.

  Mabyn began to chant, invoking the Guardians, and casting a spell of protection around them. The candles flickered in response, as if answering her. Lucia joined in, for she knew the words. Soon, they were chanting in unison, building a strong flow of energy between them. Once they were united, Mabyn sang them into the Shadows, invoking the image of the giant sails they had seen earlier that day—the sails that had brought death and destruction, and taken their loved ones away.

  Soon, they found themselves beneath one of the terrible sails, sitting across from one another on the prow of the ship. It was dark, except for the light of a few lanterns, and the faint moonlight that floated on the churning sea surrounding them. There were four other ships sailing alongside them, all flying the same sigil.

  Lucia put the silver cord that flowed from her chest into Mabyn’s hands. She began to float along the length of the ship, searching for the faces of her captured children, but did not find them.

  She floated over to the other ships in turn, but, to her surprise, found that none of the ships held any captives at all. What have they done with them? Have we come to the wrong ships?

  She searched the ships again, until she felt Mabyn tug at her cord, indicating it was time to go. She floated back toward Maybn’s signal, about to leave the ships behind, when she felt something else pulling at her from behind.

  She looked back. There, standing at the prow of the foremost ship in the gruesome procession, were the only two men she had ever felt true hatred for—Aelhaearn and Camulos.

  She hovered close to the pair. Camulos was speaking with Aelhaearn, pointing to a map and explaining by lantern light how they must sail upriver to the mountains and then travel overland to their destination. That destination, marked clearly on the map, was Mynyth Aur.

  Great Mother, help us, Lucia prayed, more penitently than she had ever prayed in her life. Please help us…

  ***

  Lucia met with Elffin and Irwyn at dawn the next morning and told them what she had seen in her vision.

  “That explains it,” Elffin said. “The Saxons never raid the western shores—always the eastern. They only raided Gwythno because it was on the way to their final destination—Mynyth Aur. With as much trading as we’ve done in Gaul, Camulos no doubt knew how rich Gwythno was. ”

  “I must get home,” Lucia said. She was a fast and skilled rider, and weighed very little. She could deliver a warning to Mynyth Aur long before the enemy could reach it. “I’ll leave now. Take good care of Maur and Buddug for us.”

  “We will,” Elffin said heavily. “Never has Gwythno seen so much sorrow. Take anything you can find for your journey.”

  Lucia embraced and kissed them both, and ran down to the stable. Freeing the horses had spared them. They had all escaped slaughter and returned home of their own accord when they grew hungry. Ironically, the stable had not burned down. It was damaged, but still serviceable. She found Bronwen, a beautiful chestnut mare Bran had given her as an anniversary gift, in the second-to-last stall. She was glad she had chosen to ride her to Gwythno rather than sit in the wagon. She was a good horse. They had explored many miles of coastline during their visit and she had never tired. Now, however, Lucia would demand much more of her.

  She managed to reach the lake by early afternoon. She could see Colwyn in the field and Aveta in the garden as she rode hard up the road.

  Aveta must have heard her approaching. She set down her basket, shielding her eyes against the sun, looking in her direction.

  Lucia threw back her hood and unpinned her hair. Within moments, Aveta ran down to the road to greet her.

  Lucia jumped down from her horse. “She needs water,” she managed to say in between heavy breaths.

  Aveta grabbed her by the arms. “What’s happened?

  “Five ships…” Lucia gasped, panting. “Five ships of Saxons. They’re coming to attack Mynyth Aur. They’ll only be able to row upriver until the mountains keep them from going any further. From there, they’ll continue on foot, and I fear they’ll pass this way. Colwyn must warn the others. You must turn the animals loose and hide. They attacked us at Gwythno, they took Taliesin and the twins...”

  Aveta looked at her with compassion. “It’s come. Your vision.”

  Lucia could only nod.

  Colwyn arrived, wearing an expression of concern.

  “Saxons ar
e coming,” Aveta told him. “We must warn everyone. Tell them to dress warmly, take some food, row their boats out onto the lake and look for me. There’s a thick fog today. I’ll ensure it remains that way.”

  Colwyn asked no questions. He simply nodded and took off in the direction of the next farm to deliver the warning.

  Lucia grabbed Aveta in a strong embrace. “Please, don’t let anything happen to you—I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I won’t,” Aveta promised.

  “And I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Will you go to Rowan for us, and ask her to search the shadows for the children? See if she can find out anything about where they’ve been taken?”

  “Yes, of course—”

  “Thank you.” Lucia sighed with relief.

  “Lucia, I’m so sorry.”

  “I must get home now.”

  Aveta embraced her again. “You’ll need a fresh horse. This girl’s done for the day. Dylan!”

  A young boy poked his head out of the stable. “Yes?”

  “Saddle Agrona for Lady Lucia—and hurry.”

  Aveta and Colwyn had taken in many of the young orphans from the surrounding villages. Having both lost their own children, and knowing the children they took in had lost their parents, it served to soothe the pain of the past for everyone.

  Dylan soon brought out the horse.

  Lucia turned to Aveta and put her hands on her shoulders. “Please be careful.”

  “Don’t worry about us. Go!”

  Lucia kissed her hard on the cheek, climbed up into the saddle, and bolted off toward the road that led home. With a fresh horse, she was crossing the foothills that surrounded her village just before dark that night. A crowd had gathered by the time she reached the walls.

  Bran came running as she rode in. “What are you doing here? What’s happened?”

  “It’s not over. The Saxons are coming here.”

  Bran lifted her off her horse. “What…”

  “Aelhaearn and Camulos are leading five of those Saxon ships here. The attack on Gwythno was but a stop for food and supplies.”