The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2)

by C. M. Gray

  That was silly, the King's men weren't slinging stones at anyone right now. She looked over the edge again to see; there was an awful lot of noise coming from the trees. It sounded like they were chopping them all down… she couldn't see anything unusual happening over there, just the sounds. She reached out and took hold of the palisade wall as a gust of cold wind rocked her. It was getting darker, clouds coming in again, maybe more snow was coming. She decided to go down into the settlement and see what else might be happening; it was boring just staring out at the visiting camp, but it was still more interesting than being at dull and dreary old Tintagel where nothing exciting happened. She climbed down one of the ladders and went off to explore. It might be days before any fighting took place, but she hoped it wouldn't be too long. The smell of cooking drew her through the small passages between the huts and into the trading square where she joined a group waiting for cuts of meat to be distributed by her father. He was smiling and laughing with everyone, making jokes about the King and his warriors encamped around them. She watched him; he had never handed out meat before and she wondered why he was doing it now?

  Three men broke from the cover of the treeline and silently loped through the darkness towards the palisade of Isca, their footsteps crunching softly in the snow covered ground. Between them, they carried the burden of a small tree, most of its branches stripped from it with smaller branches lashed to the trunk in the fashion of a simple ladder. As the three reached midway, four others broke from the trees and followed.

  Above the town, an orange light was beginning to grow, slowly at first. It began to reflect from the low clouds hanging overhead giving the runners greater reason to cover the exposed open ground more quickly. Shouts of alarm could be heard now, and a bell was ringing frantically, meaning Merlyn and Sir Ector must have done a good job.

  Ahead of Uther the warriors reached the wall and heaved the ladder up against it, it bumped softly, which in the silent night air sounded disturbingly loud to Uther who was still thirty paces away. He flinched, and with his steaming breath heavy in his ears from the short run, he glanced upwards to see if Cornovii warriors were guarding this remote part of the palisade. The night sky was bright now, the spiked edge of the wall a black silhouette against it showing no warriors standing, but it was hard to see if there were any hiding, crouched down, watching and waiting to heft spears and bring pain and death in the shadows. They just had to climb the ladder and hope the spirits were looking over them.

  The first warrior reached the base of the tree, his spear slung over his shoulder tied with his sling, it swung from side to side as he scampered quickly to the top, the tree flexing and bouncing under his weight. Uther saw him hesitate, peak carefully over the edge, and then raise and dip his head quickly in case it should meet a sweeping blade, but then he was up and over and the other two in front of Uther were on the tree and climbing too.

  With Excalibur slung across his shoulder, Uther ran up the bouncing tree, falling forward half way up to use his hands to hold on and help him balance as he continued to climb, moving from one handhold to the next. Within moments, he was clambering between the sharpened tops of the stockade and crouching with his men on the walkway, his breathing loud in his ears and his heart thumping in his chest, hands freezing cold, but they were inside.

  Morgana stood up abruptly and left the cell. She could still hear the half-dead King talking on and on in that dreary, feeble way that was close to sending her mad; she just wished he would hurry up and die. He had as good as admitted that he had marched his warriors after her father, for no other reason than he was in pursuit of her mother like a slavering dog chasing a bitch in season, fighting off all and any other drooling dogs to slake his lust. He was calmly describing how they had attacked her father in Isca, laying his crimes bare. Well, now it was enough, she had heard everything she had needed.

  Moving through the dim corridor, she made her way to her chamber and began to prepare a final broth. Her brow creased as she gathered the ingredients. It was somewhat vexing that the King had eaten very little the last two times she had prepared it. It was possible that he was losing his appetite as his time to die came closer, and yet he didn't appear any closer to death, in fact, he seemed to have gained colour. She stopped chopping as her thoughts gathered. She must make the potion stronger and insist that he eat, hold his nose and choke it down him if necessary. The Saxons would arrive on the morrow when the moon was at its fullest. She would be rid of him then and also that bitch warrior who sat swooning by his side watching her every move, the Saxons would kill her before taking the King. Morgana smiled at the thought of the warrior, Maude, jumping up as the Saxons entered, the sad cow would be unarmed, she would see to that. As she tried to stop them, she would be stabbed and lay dying on the floor, her blood soaking into the rushes as Uther was dragged out, never to be seen again. Morgana spat into the infusion as it steamed upon the fire and smiled. One more day and vengeance would be hers; they would be gone.

  Chapter 22

  Avoiding the Path of a Mad Dog

  Uther glanced along the walkway in either direction and then down into the dark shadows within the settlement below. Nothing was moving, no guards patrolling the wall or anyone in sight amongst the huts, as far as he could see the spirits were watching over them and they had been unobserved. Plenty was happening on the far side of the settlement, around by the gate, which was what must have drawn any guards away. Flames were fluttering, already licking the pointed tops of the palisade, it looked like the whole wall and the gatehouse itself was ablaze. He could hear cries of alarm, calls for water and the first buckets were being filled from the horse troughs, ready to be passed up to warriors calling for them from atop the wall. A crowd of onlookers was also gathering to watch the spectacle unfold.

  'Come on, let's go.' Uther ran towards the closest ladder and climbed down, waiting at the bottom for his two companions to join him. Pulling Excalibur from his back, he tied it to his side and then blew warm breath into his hands before rubbing them together to warm them; it was cold, especially this far from the fire. Uther smiled imagining the fury and distress that Duc Gerlois must be going through at the moment. The wood of the palisade was made up of thick, heavy logs, and they were wet from all the rain and snow of late. The Duc must have thought them very tough to burn, unaware of quite what Merlyn could concoct from his potions. The two warriors joined him and they set off through the huts with Uther leading.

  There were several hundred huts and halls within the walls of Isca, but as the populace slept it was mostly deserted. Twice they came across groups of warriors, but on both occasions they weren't challenged, the warriors being too intent upon reaching the flaming gateway. Moving between the huts, they kept to the shadows as much as they could and it didn't take long to find their way to the central trading square where Gerlois allowed merchants and traders to set up and meet. Three women, cloaks wrapped tightly about them to guard against the night chill were the only people there. They were talking in hushed, excited voices, staring at the flames rising above the distant gateway. Uther signalled his men to stand back and they melted into the shadows as he approached the women.

  'I beg your pardon. I am newly arrived in Isca and not too familiar with where I should be going. I have messages for the family of Duc Gerlois, will you please direct me to his hall?' Uther gave a bow and the three women did the same in return. He knew they would be able to see, even in the flickering light cast by the distant flames, that he was no mere warrior, but of a higher caste blood. Yet he was also confident that they wouldn't recognise him as their King.

  'I think you'll find that Duc Gerlois is at the gate, Lord. You need merely follow the light of the flames to find him.' The three women giggled and the one who had spoken, tilted her head as if waiting for his reply.

  'I'm not actually looking for the Duc,' replied Uther. 'I understand that his family is here, I seek the Lady Igraine. I have word from her father and was told to deliver it to her
in person. Surely she will not be fighting the flames at the gate as well?' It was his turn to make the women laugh.

  'No My Lord, the Lady Igraine is surely not passing buckets of water, but I fear your journey has been in vain, for the Duc's wife is not here at Isca.'

  'Not here?' Uther felt anger and confusion grow within him. 'What do you mean not here? I saw her daughter here earlier today; she is surely not far from her daughter?' He was becoming louder but didn't care. 'Did she not arrive with the Duc?' The woman he had been speaking to, gave a little squeal and Uther looked down to see that he had grabbed her by the wrist without realising; he let go. 'My apologies, your news caught me unawares. Where can she be, if not at her husband's side and close to her daughter?'

  'Who are you that wants to know?' The women all began to step back from Uther, one of the others looking around as if seeking someone to call, becoming alarmed by this stranger's gruffness with them. Uther cursed his lack of control and took a deep breath to calm himself.

  'I apologise once again. The Lady Igraine's father sent me, what I thought would be a simple task of confiding with her and her alone. I confess I had thought my quest an easy one, yet now you are telling me that this is not to be the case. Please, do you have any knowledge of where the Lady Igraine might be? I just wish to complete this quest and pass her father's words on to her.'

  'That's the Duc's hall over there,' said the girl indicating with a nod of her head towards a large wooden structure the other side of the open market area,' but she's in Tintagel.' She rubbed at her wrist.

  'Kerra!' exclaimed one of the others. 'You shouldn't tell him anything; we don't know who he is.'

  'Please,' said Uther hurriedly. 'I only intend to bring the Lady Igraine word from her father. I have no wish to cause distress and will not trouble you again.' Uther backed away into the shadows, and the women scuttled off chattering excitedly.

  'We can leave.' Uther rejoined his men at the far end of the hut and waved them on towards the wall. 'I've learned what I needed to know; we have to get out of here.' They tried to retrace their steps, jogging through the huts, but as they splashed through several larger puddles, the thinnest surface of ice breaking under their feet, they realised they had made a wrong turn.

  'It must be this way, Sire,' whispered one of the men, and they set off again through a number of twisting turns before entering yet another narrow passage between halls, huts, and roundhouses, this one with the dim outline of the palisade looming up at the end. Unfortunately, before they had passed more than three strides, a low growl came from the shadows and a huge war hound moved slowly to the centre of the track. In the dim flickering light that lit the passage they could see that its hackles were raised, its ears flattened against its head, and its mouth was dripping foaming saliva. This hound was sick, sick in a very dangerous way, with weeping evil eyes that showed pain and anger. It shook its head sending white spray high into the air and then took two more steps towards them before the chain holding it clinked and became taut.

  'Go back, this animal is cursed,' hissed one of the warriors.

  Uther made to turn around, but heard something, he quickly drew close to the side of the closest hut, pulling the sleeve of one of the others to do the same, then held a finger up to his lips signalling silence. They stayed motionless, straining their hearing for a few seconds as the hound growled softly behind them. Sure enough, a few moments later, three Cornovii warriors appeared, each holding short stabbing spears.

  'Something spooked the dog,' hissed one in a whisper, 'they may be down here.'

  'Anything will spook that hound, Sithny, and if they were down here, they would be screaming for their lives, that animal is as mad as a full moon. You should have killed it days ago and had done. Tis filled with evil spirits and no good to anyone, nor itself neither for that matter.'

  'He was a good fighter and loyal to me that hound, for many seasons we fought side by side, it saved my life more than once. The spirits may leave it and… hey, who's that there? Hey, you…'

  'We have no wish to fight you, let us pass, and we will vanish into the night.' Uther stepped out of the shadows, and the three Cornovii warriors took a step back, their spears coming around to point at Uther. His two companions came alongside, and the three Cornovii tensed.

  'How did you get past the wall? You're burning the palisade, and now you think we will just let you walk away? How stupid do you think we are?'

  'I am Uther Pendragon, your King. Let us pass, do not make me kill you.'

  'We are the Duc's men; we don't answer to you and you can't just…'

  The warrior didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Excalibur snaked out in one fluid movement and stabbed the lead warrior in the throat. The man went down uttering a gurgle through spouts of blood as Uther's companions leapt past him to take on the other two warriors. It was regrettable to kill any warrior here, but they had known they may have to before getting away with their lives, and Uther had been forced to make his decision quickly. Behind them the dog began barking savagely, just as Uther attacked and killed a second, his sword slicing down through the man's guard to cut deeply through his neck and into his chest.

  'Alarm, alarm!' screamed the last Cornovii as he backed out of the passage.

  Uther and his men rushed him; Uther kicked out as one of the others matched him with his spear and the Cornovii fell. Without waiting they dashed past, but then two more appeared, one with a spear the other with a huge war axe that he swung in a huge arc around his head. With a glance to their fallen comrades, both began yelling loudly to draw others to them. Then a spear throw took the axeman in the chest, and the other began fighting for his life with Uther. The spearman continued to shout out for help, his eyes darting around seeking others, but he was holding them at bay on his own within the narrow passage. Uther was unable to retreat because of the war hound and unable to go forward because of this one man.

  'Kill the hound,' said Uther as he advanced on the spearman. Behind him, he heard a scuffle and curse.

  'It has my spear, it's bitten it… get off yer damn dog.'

  This was taking too long; they had to get out. The noise from the front gate was getting louder, roaring and crackling as the fire took greater hold while masking most of the calls from the warrior, but others were sure to come soon. Uther dropped his stance and stabbed out, his thrust coming under his adversaries spear, and he felt Excalibur crack through the man's ribs and enter his chest. The man's shrill scream rose above the noise from the fire and the barking dog, which had dropped the spear it had bitten and was now frantic with blood lust, straining against its bonds in its effort to break free, desperate to follow its basest instincts and attack, bite and tear flesh.

  'Move… to the palisade,' hissed Uther. 'Find another way.' He heaved Excalibur from the dying man's chest and led them on past huts and halls in what he thought was the right direction. Hearing shouts and the sound of running feet, they turned into another passage that he hoped desperately would lead them to the wall. The three men ran through a small open area and jumped the smoking remains of a small cooking fire, landing hard they startled several chickens into a squawking, flapping cloud and then past a goat, which bleated plaintively, as they knocked into it in their haste to get past. They seemed to be enveloped in a growing cacophony of noise until with a howl of glee, easily perceived above the din, they heard the dog break loose, the sound of the chain breaking quite audible above everything. It was soon followed by people shrieking and the terrible growling as the hound of war found its first victim to savage.

  'That's a war hound,' said Uther, 'it will kill and move on quickly. We have to get out of here now… there… down here…' He pushed the men on, and they ran to the end of yet another narrow passage and were rewarded with sight of the palisade wall. Unfortunately, there was now a warrior upon it, drawn by the noise and confusion erupting between the huts. He stared down as Uther, and his men ran towards them, uncertain of what was taking place.
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br />   'There is a war hound loose, its attacking people,' called Uther. 'It's sick, gone crazy, help us get up, it's coming, quickly…' Unable to see exactly who they were in the low light, the warrior leant down from the parapet. Uther hurriedly put Excalibur into its scabbard and reached up towards the hands, he jumped and felt a strong hand close around his wrist. As the Cornovii pulled him up, he swung his legs onto the platform then quickly turned to help the others. One of his men jumped up, and he managed to catch his arm and pulled. The sounds of the huge hound were getting closer, its barking now at the passage by the closest building, and then it emerged at a full run, less than twenty paces away. As it closed on them, Uther could see the madness in its eyes, the foaming mouth and blood dripping from the huge maw of white teeth.

  'Swing your legs, do it,' shouted Uther. Below him, the warrior dropped his spear, clamped his hand around Uther's wrist and swung his legs up onto the platform. Just in time, as his arrival was preceded by a huge crash which rocked the walkway as the hound leapt, just missing his legs and hit the wall. All went silent for a moment, or it seemed to, they all leant over to see the hound getting groggily to its feet. It shook its head, then spun around growling then launched itself at the last warrior, still hanging from the Cornovii warrior's grasp, unable to get up. Its massive weight slammed into him as he struggled, its teeth clamping upon his thigh. He screamed as he fell and then was dragging down into the shadows, screeching shrilly as the hound took out all its pain and frustration by tearing into him; his screams only ending when his throat was ripped out.

  Uther pulled himself away and exchanged looks with his surviving accomplice. 'We have stared death in the face together this night, my friend. What is your name?'

  'Halwyn, Sire.' They grasped forearms and smiled grimly at each other, united in a common grisly bond, and then turned to the warrior that had pulled them up as two others arrived. Three of them, who were now looking questioningly at Uther and Halwyn, waiting for some sign of an explanation.