Cadeyrn

by Hazel Hunter

  “No, my lady.” He brushed a lock of pale hair back from her brow. “She’s no’ even stirred.”

  Rowan knelt beside them to gently place her sister on her back. Perrin was unconscious.

  “Em, would you mind having a look at Perr after you finish with Lily?”

  The nurse nodded, and once she’d checked his lady’s neck, eyes and ears she went to Perrin. “Good pulse,” she told Rowan, and carefully felt along the thin lass’s arms and legs. “No new injuries. Do you ken if she’s eaten anything?”

  “Knowing my big sis, probably not,” Rowan said, sounding deeply annoyed.

  Cadeyrn saw Perrin’s eyes open and turn opaque as she stared at him.

  “Take us before the snow, War Master.” Her voice sounded as if it came over a long distance.

  “You’re a master of war?” Rowan said, gaping at him.

  “Aye, for my clan,” Cadeyrn answered though he kept his gaze on the sister.

  Lily had told him that Perrin could see the future. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes cleared, and she peered up at her sister.

  “Hey,” she said. “We’re not at the mill.”

  “I should have left you there,” Rowan said as she hugged her sister. “We’re almost home, Perr. Just stay awake for a while, okay?”

  Cadeyrn let the lasses rest as long as he dared while he gathered stones and embedded them in the soil in a particular pattern beneath his final passage marker. When he finished the message he checked the sky. Heavy clouds approached from over the treetops.

  Before the snow, Perrin had said.

  Cadeyrn eyed the incoming storm. He had always relied on his own senses rather than take direction from the Gods, let alone the magic folk. But there was no doubt the temperature was dropping. As the wind grew biting, Emeline huddled close to the sisters. The snow would be here within the hour.

  He scanned the opposite direction. There were hills beyond the forest. He used his gift to examine the strange rocky slopes in one particular section. A deep, wide fracture ran from its base to its peak. The crevasse divided it almost perfectly into two hills. Though a natural formation, it could offer a high ground advantage and admirable protection.

  Before the snow.

  They would flee in the direction of the storm, not before it reached them.

  “We’ll cross the far side of the fields, and circle back to there,” he told the ladies, and pointed to the base of the fissure. “Likely we’ll find a cranny or cave where we might shelter from the storm.”

  “And move on tonight, as soon as we can,” Rowan said, glancing at her sister. “I don’t suppose anyone brought any food or water flasks?”

  “We’ll have snow to melt for water,” Emeline assured her. “If we spot anything edible on the way, we’ll gather it.”

  “Since Lily’s still conked out, and I don’t know an endive from poison ivy, you’re our spotter,” the dark lass told the nurse. “Perr, you ready to take a hike?”

  The thin lady nodded, and with her sister’s help got to her feet.

  “If you tire, tell me,” Cadeyrn advised her. “We’ll rest where ’tis safe.”

  “That’s nowhere around here,” she said. Though she swayed for a moment, she squared her shoulders. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Crossing the dry cobbles of the river bed had been tricky and slow, and the trek took longer than Cadeyrn had estimated. By the time they reached the base of the divided hills Perrin had gone gray and trembling. Emeline’s face looked as white as the snow that had begun falling on their heads. Rowan had her arms around both women to support them. She tilted her head back to look up at the fissure and frowned.

  “What’s that?” she asked, and nodded at a series of jagged stone shelves inside the huge crack.

  Cadeyrn carried Lily with him as he drew closer and felt a surge of satisfaction. “Stairs.” Quickly he put his lady down behind some brush, and gestured for the other lasses to join her. “I’ll scout it first. Stay here and watch for them.”

  An icy wind buffeted Cadeyrn as he climbed to the lowest rock shelf and inspected the sloping sides around him as he ascended. He saw no chisel or hammer marks on the moss-splotched stone, but someone long ago had excavated the interior and fashioned the stairs. He followed them up to an arch carved with Roman letters on either side. Beyond the entry stood the ruins of a fortlet within a brick enclosure.

  He'd seen several of the same sort during his mortal life, when the invaders had flooded into Caledonia. This had once been a Roman garrison post. It had been built so deeply inside the crevasse it could not be seen from the outside of the divided hills.

  Hurrying back down to the ladies, Cadeyrn silently thanked his battle spirit. “There is shelter for us.”

  This time when Cadeyrn lifted Lily into his arms she stirred and huddled closer to his chest. A second wave of relief flooded him as he led the other women into the crevasse.

  “Mind your footing,” he warned them. “’Twill be easy to slip on the steps.”

  He had them climb up in front of him, and when they reached the arch, they beheld the ancient fortlet with wide eyes.

  “Whoa,” Rowan murmured as she went to touch the chiseled letters. “This looks like Latin. The ancient variety.”

  “It says ‘The Ninth Legion, sentry post, commanded by Quintus Seneca,’” Emeline said, translating the Roman words. “‘The eyes of Rome never close.’ Ancient, too, the date is from the first century.”

  “I’m pretty sure their eyes are closed now,” Rowan told her. “We need to get out of this snow and wind, Cade.”

  He nodded, and carried Lily through the arch and into the fortlet. Tracks worn into the stone led him to a section of mortared rock that appeared to be cracked in two places, when he pushed on it the wall swung inward to reveal a threshold of rotted wood.

  “Good thing they made use of the hill for most of their structures.” Rowan nodded toward the sagging remains of a watch tower made of rotted logs. “Stay away from that unless you want it to collapse on your head.”

  The interior of the fortlet had been divided into three sections of excavated rock, all of which had already filled with snow. Cadeyrn spotted rings where large canvas tents had once been tied, and a huge fire pit still filled with gray ash and blackened bones. He carried Lily over to the only fully-enclosed structure still standing: a large stone-walled storage building built into the side of the crevasse. An outcropping had formed the roof, and a rack of rusted iron barred the two entries.

  “Allow me,” Rowan said and took hold of the crumbling iron. She yanked it out with a single tug. Orange-red flakes drifted around her feet as she set the rack to one side and peered in. “Some old shields and plenty of rat nests, but no Romans.” Rowan nodded toward the interior and held out her arms for Lily.

  Cadeyrn carefully handed her over before he ducked through the entry. Rows of rusted rectangular shields had been left stacked against the walls. What he thought had once been sacks of grain appeared to have been used by vermin as nests until the sacking turned to dust. Spiderwebs canopied a mass of crocks and urns, some cracked and crumbled.

  He returned to the ladies and took Lily from Rowan. “’Tis sound enough to spend a night, and ’twill keep us out of the cold.”

  “Can we risk a small fire?” Emeline asked.

  During their flight, Cadeyrn had noted the terrain, possible escape routes, and also the way the storm had chased them.

  “This wind should whisk away the smoke,” he said and nodded.

  Emeline sighed with relief. “Rowan, would you collect some dry wood? I’d rather no’ burn that sacking. Perrin, come and share your heat with Lily until we have it going.”

  Cadeyrn was impressed by how quickly and calmly the nurse took charge of their care. Once he lay Lily down beside Perrin in the warmest corner, he covered them both with his tartan.

  Lily’s eyes fluttered again, and this time she opened them to slits. “Safe?”

  “Aye,” he said and
felt no shame in lying to her.

  When she closed her eyes, he looked at the seam of dried blood that ran down the side of her throat. In his memory he saw how weak she’d been when she’d returned from the granary. Despite knowing what it’d do to her, and without a word of complaint, Lily had tried to move the stones that covered the portal. Had it been a mountain, Cadeyrn knew the brave lass would have tried that too.

  In that moment something that had wrapped cold and tight around his heart melted away.

  Perrin shifted her so that Lily’s head rested against her shoulder. “I’ll look after her, Cade.”

  He hated to leave her, but the rest of the fortlet needed to be checked. He also had to find something for the lasses to eat, or they wouldn’t have the strength to push on at nightfall.

  “We’ll be very well,” Emeline said, startling him as she took a rock and struck it against the edge of a rusted shield, nodding with satisfaction when it produced a spark. “Go on with you. I’ll no’ leave them alone.”

  Outside the storage building Cadeyrn encountered Rowan carrying a bundle of twigs and branches under one arm, and a shield heaped with clean snow.

  “Wait here for a minute,” she told him, and disappeared into the storage building to return without the wood or snow. “I think I found some food, but I need your help to reach it.”

  Cadeyrn considered telling her any food the Romans had left behind would be dust, but followed her over to a stunted tree that had grown in the unlikeliest of places.

  “This must have been their latrine.” She nodded at a short row of broken slates with privy holes cut through them. She patted the tree, which had grown up out of a seam in the rock. The way she studied the trunk and limbs said she saw more in the wood than met his eye. “See that hole that’s gnawed around the edges?” She pointed to a hollow about half way up the trunk. “How much you want to bet that’s a squirrel stash?”

  Cadeyrn hefted himself up to peer inside. He reached in, retrieved a handful of big nuts, and tossed one down to her.

  “Chestnuts,” she said, chuckling as she kissed it. “I love it when I’m right. Let me get something to put them in.” She hurried off.

  Finding a more comfortable spot to wedge himself, Cadeyrn surveyed the surrounding structures. The fortlet seemed too small to be a proper Roman post, and the Romans had gone to great lengths to conceal it. More likely they built it as a lookout for a small detachment of men. Since it remained intact no one else had ever found it, either.

  Assessing the fortlet didn’t keep Cadeyrn’s gaze from shifting back to the stone building. Although he knew they needed the food, and he had yet to check the rest of the post, he wanted to go in and take Lily from Perrin. His arms ached to hold her until she woke again. Cadeyrn had always prided himself on being immune to the weaknesses of other men. Lily, it seemed, had turned him into a lovesick lad.

  “Hey, Master of War.” Rowan appeared at the base of the tree and held up a large old ewer. “Let’s play catch.”

  Chapter Eleven

  AS THE FIRE consuming the mill roared, Hendry wrapped a blanket around Murdina’s slumped shoulders. Much of her silvered red hair had been singed, and soot blackened her nose and mouth.

  “We might have died,” the druidess whispered, watching the black smoke rolling out to engulf the sagging roof. “That sly bitch and her cursed lover set fire to our home.”

  “’Twas only a place we used,” he chided gently. “When I build you our home, goddess mine, it shall be a castle. You shall rule as Queen of the new world we make.”

  “We could take the caraidean and run away,” she looked up at him, tears flooding her reddened eyes. “We could live in the land of the white bear, where humans cannae. The sun doesnae set there for two seasons. They could never hurt us again.”

  “You would never be warm again.” And the isolation and cold would likely drive her completely mad, although Hendry couldn’t say that much. “Murdina mine, my dearest, truest love, you mustnae surrender to fear. Soon all humans shall be naught more than the dust beneath our feet. We shall prevail over them and show the Gods that this world can be paradise.”

  “You will give Lily to me when we find them?” she asked, sobbing the words. “I want to burn her hair off. I want her to choke and wheeze and scream as I do. Please, Hendry.”

  “She shall be yours to punish,” he lied to her.

  Keeping Murdina pressed against him as she wept, he watched Aon and the other giants drag out the last of the famhairean who had burned to save him and his lover. A third of their caraidean had been reduced to charred stumps. He’d taken the precaution of having some new forms made for their souls to inhabit, but not nearly enough.

  He felt Murdina shudder violently, and then she pushed away from him and ran to the granary. Before he could go after her Ochd came to him, his refined face smudged and his eyes filled with hurt.

  “Rowan took her sister,” the famhair told him, and handed him a small etched rune that Hendry had weeks ago slipped into the dancer’s pocket. “I found this with her clothes in the granary. How long before she sheds the effects of your magic?”

  “Too soon.” To control both sisters, Hendry had placed the charm on Perrin to induce weakness by stifling her appetite. He cursed himself for forgetting about it when he’d given them all clean clothes to wear. “’Twill be easy enough to replace once we take them back from the Skaraven.”

  Aon and Coig joined them. “Twenty-one burned. We’ve but seven forms prepared.”

  “Leave your brothers to me,” Hendry said. “I shall restore them. You must track the Skaraven and our sisters.”

  The leader of the giants scanned the horizon. “We cannae release volatiles in this storm. They willnae travel hence or back to us.”

  “Then use their logic to track them,” the druid advised. “To find sanctuary among mortals, they should have gone south or east. Yet the Skaraven can be canny. Cadeyrn would have taken them north, into the hills, or west, to the midlands.”

  “’Twould be foolish to walk the females with the storm,” Aon said. “They wouldnae go far before succumbing to the cold. We should track west, away from it.”

  Hendry had learned to trust the giants’ instincts. “Agreed. When you find them, dinnae kill any of the females but Lily Stover. Make it look as if she fought you.”

  Coig gave him a splintered grin. “I shall see to it, Wood Dream.”

  “What of the Skaraven?” Ochd asked.

  “Do as you wish,” Hendry said. “But bring back his head to me. I’ll mount it on a pike for Murdina.”

  Once the giants trudged off he went to the granary and looked inside. Murdina had torn the place apart, destroying everything left behind by the women. She sat in a pile of grain now, holding a handful and letting it trickle through her fingers.

  “Like the stones by the loch,” she murmured as she looked up. “Do you remember that time I picked them up and put them in my pockets, my love?”

  He sat down beside her and guided her head to rest against his shoulder. “How could I forget the most wondrous night I’ve ever known?”

  It might have been twelve centuries past, but it was the only time from his mortal life that he cared to remember. In every incarnation Hendry had always been ruled by the bond between his deepest emotions and his ability, a razing force that was rare even among the most powerful druid tribes. During his last life his father had taught him to control it through prayer and calming rituals. He had also taken long swims in the cold, dark waters of Loch Ness.

  “You mustnae indulge yourself, my son,” Angas Greum advised him. “Denying your urges shall wither them. Apply yourself to that end, and in time you shall rid yourself of them. ’Tis the only manner in which you shall walk the path of the righteous.”

  Hendry had tried to do as his father asked. By the time of his initiation he had grown detached and aloof, but the clear path to righteousness had never been shown to him. His power simmered inside him, a sleeping mo
nster. He’d even considered leaving the tribe and isolating himself away from those he might harm.

  After a disagreement with their headman one night had pushed his temper to dangerous heights, Hendry had gone to the loch. Instead of stripping out of his robes and wading into the water, he’d begun gathering stones.

  A shadow flitted out of the trees and came to join him. “What do you here, Hendry Greum?”

  He eyed his young cousin. Since birth she had never quite been of a right mind. Some thought her mad, while others thought her touched by the Gods. Either way, the tribe avoided her almost as much as they did him.

  “I told you no’ to follow me about anymore, Murdina Stroud.”

  “I forgot.” She held out a smooth stone to him. “Do you build a cairn? Do you wish me to help?”

  “I mean to drown myself,” he heard himself blurt out. He shoved the stones in his pockets and forced out a bitter laugh. “I but jest with you. Go home, lass.”

  “Home to my mother, who hates me, and my father, who says I must mate with that fat slug Dirkus?” She shoved the stone in her pocket. “I’d rather drown myself with you.”

  Hendry knew the young druidess to be unhappy, but the calmness with which she spoke of ending her life touched his cold heart. It also sickened him to think of her mated to Dirkus, who ever stank of the manure he collected for the food gardens.

  “Your mother envies your beauty and power. She has neither, you ken.” When she shrugged he added, “Your father cannae force you to mate with anyone. Go and speak to the headman. He shall tell you the same.”

  Murdina gathered more stones. “If I cannae be with you, Hendry, I dinnae wish to live.”

  Hendry watched her fill her pockets until they bulged. Convinced her threat was only for his benefit, he didn’t move as she waded out into the water. She strode forward without a pause and was soon up to her waist. In moments the water covered her chest. Something in the set of her shoulders told him this was no’ play. But surely she didn’t intend to end herself just because he was.

  As the loch lapped at her chin, she glanced back at him. Now she would call for his help, surely. He couldn’t stand by and watch her drown, of course, but he’d let her get a good dunking before he pulled her out.