by C. M. Gray
A loud 'caaawww' filled the air, and then a voice screamed down at them. 'You all deserted me. My father took me and gave me to the sisters at Laherne. You stole my mother, had my father murdered, took my family from me, you took it all.' A small shower of leaves and branches fell a few steps in front of them, and they stopped walking.
The shrill voice, much closer in the gloom this time, screamed out, 'I told you where I went.' The voice continued more softly, tinged with a deep sadness. 'I told you of the sisters and their harsh new ways of the nailed God. Of how I longed to escape. Of my finally meeting the Morrigan and the Fey, who gave me hope, they taught me the old ways and of how things are and shall ever be. You forget so quickly. For a man about to die your senses are still rather dim.'
Uther began to walk again, shuffling along, knife held out in front of him, and Maude started after him, unwilling to be too far apart. She had her sword drawn and was turning so she might catch any sign of movement from the sides or behind them.
'I need to finish my tale,' called Uther, 'and so I shall keep on with the telling. I had managed to enter the fortress upon the Isle of Tintagel, under the cover of the storm without being seen, but they eventually found the bodies of the warriors set to watch the door and then found me rather quickly.'
More twigs and old leaves fell around them as the creature followed them through the branches above.
Her voice was now harsh again, dripping scorn and hatred. 'They found you because you are stupid. Like all men, even Kings are ruled by that which hangs between their legs; they knew you would be humping my mother.' More twigs fell, accompanied by a fluttering of wings, and both Uther and Maude jumped back as a large indistinct shadow landed in front of them then sprang up screeching loudly. They could see enough of it in the gloom to notice it bore what could be conceived as a parody of Morgana's face, twisted and animal in some unnatural way. Its lips drew back in a high-pitched scream, and the face thrust forward, contorted with anger and hatred, spraying both Uther and Maude in splatters of thick, slimy phlegm and breath so foul it made them recoil. The darkness seemed to gather around the creature forming into a cloak that pulsed and flowed in iridescent waves, and then a claw-like hand tipped with sharp talons snapped out and raked across Maude's face. The warrior shrieked and fell in agony, lost to the dark mist of the forest floor where she lay whimpering, unseen and forgotten.
Uther stared at what had become of Morgana, his mind trying to reason with what he was seeing. Whatever it was, its eyes weren't even close to being human. They shone from above a nose, long, black and sharp like a bird's beak, eyes glowing red with small coal-black pupils stared back at him with an evil that was palpable.
'Time to die, Pendragon.' The claw snapped out again with frightening speed, and Uther felt the skin of his cheek raked and split open, but his hand was still holding the knife, and it also moved, striking up into the darkness even as he fell back, more reflex than conscious effort to stab it. He felt the blade strike into something solid, and the creature screamed in anger and pain, and then the eyes drew back and whatever it was folded in on itself, the darkness becoming a small black indistinct creature that fell to writhe upon the ground, hissing, before lifting up and flapping away through the trees screeching one final, 'caaawwww.'
Uther gazed about him as he staggered a step or so, he noticed with the creature gone it wasn't so dark. The night was receding, and dawn was offering more light to the forest. The darkness, like the creature, was almost gone, the mist between the trees less ominous than it had seemed only moments before. He reached down and helped Maude to her feet, and they inspected each other's wounds. Tearing the sleeve from her chemise, they each took a bundle of cloth to staunch the bleeding before limping on their way through the trees.
After a while, Maude asked, 'How did you escape from Tintagel, Lord? They found you, and I can only guess that they would likely have killed you soon as they could after finding you in the sleeping area of the lady in their charge.'
'They weren't too happy to find me there, no, but in those days I was, even more, abler than I am now, thank the spirits. Getting onto the island was a mixture of believing in Merlyn and blind luck, leaving was a little different, the storm had passed, but it still wasn't as easy as it could have been to get away from Tintagel.'
'You still seemed quite able a few moments ago, Lord. I think you might have saved us both back there; I don't think she will be back anytime soon. Why don't you just finish your tale and tell me what happened? I'll keep looking out in case that thing comes back.'
'All right, why not,' said Uther, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. 'It will pass the time as we get out of these awful woods, but as you say, just keep an eye open for it returning. My first problem was to deal with the warriors who had found me.'
Chapter 27
A Long and Interesting Life
Uther rolled and stabbed out with Excalibur, taking the first warrior in the throat just as he stepped through the curtains. The man's eyes bulged and he dropped his spear, his hands wrapping around Excalibur's blade as blood spurted from his wound. Uther pulled the blade free; the warrior fell to his knees, Uther kicked him backwards and Igraine screamed. Two other warriors were coming, shouting, screaming their anger as they ran to join their fallen comrade and protect their charge. The first was a female wearing the yellow and red of Dimilioc. She was screeching a high pitched war cry as she ran in to thrust her spear at Uther. He stepped to the side, his footing unstable upon the sleeping furs and dropped Excalibur, then drew the spear alongside him and pulled the girl off balance.
'Don't kill her!'
He heard Igraine shout, so twisted the spear out of the girl's hands and spun, sweeping her legs from under her. She fell with a crash to the floor beside him and he spared her a quick glance as he snatched up his sword, saw she was groaning and not leaping up so no immediate threat, and then faced the last warrior. He was a big, angry-looking man, a blue swirling tattoo covering much of his face and a huge axe that he was swinging down towards Uther's head.
'Agghhh.'
Stepping to the side, Uther blocked the axe with Excalibur then moved in and lashed his head forward, butting the man's nose, feeling bone and cartilage break with a crunch against his forehead. The warrior went down, still clutching the wooden shaft as the axe head fell to the floor with a thud. The blow had hurt Uther's forehead, but not as much as it had hurt the warrior who was groaning, blood pouring from his broken nose. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Uther strode past towards the door and struck the man with Excalibur's hilt knocking him unconscious as he passed.
'Uther, you have to leave, to get out of here,' called Igraine. 'There are too many warriors, you cannot fight them all and many are my friends, they are good people, your people.' She ran to Uther and held him as he turned from placing the locking shaft across the door. 'Go back to your people, kill Gerlois and then come back for me. Only then can we truly be together. There is nothing left for you to fight for here, you already have my heart.'
Uther held her and knew she was right. This wasn't the place to wage a personal war; he needed to end it elsewhere.
'I will come back for you, Igraine, be ready. Make your family ready.' He ran over to the sleeping area that he had so recently shared with her and found his cloak and boots. Both still retained the wet and cold from the previous evening. As he pulled on the boots he wished he had thought to place them closer to the fire to dry, but that had been the last thing on his mind when he had taken them off he recalled, and smiled.
Igraine picked up his cloak. 'When you leave, don't take the main path, the bridge to the mainland will be well guarded, especially now that they know any number of intruders are here. There is a shepherd's track that can take you to the bay. I'll point you in the right direction. It's a little steep, but it will surely be light soon and the storm blew itself out in the night. Just pray the track isn't covered in snow or is too icy.'
'It sounds like it will g
ive me a better chance than fighting through at the bridge,' said Uther standing to tie his sword belt in place, 'Thank you, my love. Don't worry for me. I'll be back for you as soon as I can. Do not fear.' He took the cloak from Igraine and wrapped it around himself, pulling the hood up over his head.
'The shepherd's track will take you below the bridge. It will be low tide at sunrise, and you can make your way across to the coast through the rocks and find a route up. Go my wild King and come back for me soon.' She fell into his arms once more, he kissed her and then they were parting and he was lifting the locking bar from the door. Dragging it open, he peaked out just as a cold draught of air blew in making them both shiver. Thankfully, there were no more warriors guarding the door; the storm had indeed passed in the night and the sky was just showing signs that it was getting light.
Igraine pointed. 'There… past the water trough, you will see the path there is only one. May the spirits guide you, my love.' They kissed one final time and he ran across the courtyard towards where he hoped his path to freedom might lie.
It was mid-morning when he pulled his cold, wet and very weary body over the top of the hill and lay panting on top of the cliff. The first thing he noticed, was a sheep searching for what little grass it might find. It had stopped chewing and was looking at him curiously, and then he noticed Merlyn sitting on a rock clutching his staff, grinning at him, white hair and beard blowing about his face by the soft sea breeze.
'Did you have a successful visit, King Uther? Make any princes while you were there?' Before Uther could reply, Merlyn's attention was distracted by a few gulls floating, beaks into the wind, moving effortlessly with small movements of their wings to keep in position. 'Oh, I do wish I could do that,' he mused. 'It's not quite the same when you take over their minds and join them, but more interesting than mice I suppose.'
Uther got up and stretched, then walked across to the old Druid. 'You never did disguise me, did you, Merlyn? You made me strut in there thinking I looked like Duc Gerlois when all you did was make a fool of me. Is my life so trivial to you old man?'
'Oh really, didn't it work? You were disguised when you walked off. You must have rubbed at the rune and spread it all over your face; it's no wonder she rejected you, turning up with a dirty face like you did.'
'Merlyn, you are exasperating, I could have been killed. I suppose I'll never know if you tricked me or not, I will have to give in to the possibility that it was indeed the storm that removed your little bit of magic.'
Merlyn raised his bushy eyebrows. 'Little bit of magic? That was no small trick, please give me a little more credit than that, Uther, but was it all worth it?'
'Indeed it was. We can talk on the way. We need to return to Dimilioc and finish what we started; there is no time to waste.'
Merlyn thrust out his staff to stop Uther walking off and Uther looked questioningly at him.
'Gerlois is dead,' said Merlyn. He stood and placed his hands on Uther's shoulders. 'Riders came this morning, before first light, sent by Sir Ector. Duc Gerlois died late yesterday, probably about the same time you were rubbing my rune all over your face in the storm. After that, the Dumnonii and Cornovii were apparently quick to capitulate and have all sworn oaths to you again; we have won. If you had only known, you could have walked out of Tintagel the same way you walked in. Only this time the warriors at the gate would have bowed down before you, but I'm sure you enjoyed your climb, didn't you?' Merlyn walked to the edge of the cliff and peered over at the steep rocky face, the waves breaking far below against the rocks in explosions of white spray and foam. 'Must have been quite bracing. Come, let's be off, it's a little too chilly here for my liking.'
Uther followed behind shaking his head.
'And did you go find Igraine and rescue her from the fortress on Tintagel?' Maude asked as she and Uther emerged from the forest. The sun had indeed risen, but clouds had come in before dawn because it was a gloomy, bleak winter's day that faced them. A frost covered everything making the ground crunchy underfoot and spiders' webs in the hedgerows were decorated in shimmering winter jewels. The smell of wood smoke was in the air so they knew they must be close to the village.
Uther looked up at the clouds moving overhead. 'I think it may snow.'
'Indeed it might, Lord, but did you ride in and rescue Igraine?' Maude repeated.
'She didn't need rescuing. Igraine and her daughters were well cared for on Tintagel, it was her home, but yes, we rode down into Tintagel and were welcomed onto the Isle. Merlyn then insisted we all accompany him to Stanenges to witness the Druid rites and celebrations to sanctify the stone circle. To be honest, it was all a little cold and tedious. Lots of fires and chanting, but they had managed to set them in place as a circle of sorts. If I hadn't seen them floating across the sea, I would have called them ordinary, but we all knew they were anything but ordinary.'
'And you gave over Arthur, your son, to the Druids. That can't have been easy.'
Uther stopped walking and turned to look at Maude. 'It was the single hardest thing I ever had to do, and of course, Igraine didn't speak to me properly for weeks… months even. I saw him from time to time, mind, but I never really forgave Merlyn for taking him at birth. He had me handing him over the same day he was born; he wouldn't wait. Said he couldn't delay, that the spirits demanded it upon the day of his birth, or the future would be changed.'
Ahead of them a small collection of huts appeared, smoke drifting up through the thatch of most of them. Ducks and geese ran wild amongst the buildings; a goat was tethered to the closest hut, and a few sheep were fenced in an adjacent field. Maude led them towards a larger central construction explaining it was the central meeting hall of the community and also where the village reeve lived.
'I met someone who lives on the other side of the village, said there was a hut we could stay in for some time,' said Maude, taking Uther's arm. 'I think it best if I leave you with the reeve while I go ahead and make sure all is well. Lord, I've been thinking, I don't think it's a good idea to introduce you as King Uther Pendragon, you had best come up with another name. I had a cousin named Borin… maybe we could call you that. What do you think, Lord, do you feel like a Borin?'
Uther smiled. 'Not really, no, introduce me as Usher. I've used that name before, and it suited me very well at the time.'
As they walked further into the village of Somerton, they passed several people who welcomed them with a smile and a greeting. They were told a band of Saxons had been seen passing through before first light, but they hadn't returned. Uther was received into the reeve's home where a comfortable seat was found for him by the big crackling fire, and a girl sent for linen and salve for the wounds to his face. As Maude went off to find her friend and arrange a place they might rest and recover, Uther smiled around at the reeve, his family and the assortment of curious villagers who had followed them in.
'You have a cosy home and the fire is most welcome after a night spent in the forest.' Two children came over and sat at his feet, he smiled at them. 'Hail there, what are you two doing in here on a fine day like this?'
'The animals are fed, and it's too cold to be out. Father says it will snow soon, maybe a storm coming. Can you tell us a story, do you know any? We love stories.'
'Children, leave him alone, don't you go bothering him with your nonsense,' said an old woman as she flattened barley cakes and laid them to cook by the fire.
'Oh please, not to worry, it isn't nonsense. I like stories too,' said Uther with a smile. 'I've been telling a long one lately, but it's finished now. I'm sure I have one or two more though and I will happily swap you a story for a barley cake or two when they're cooked, they look delicious.'
'They weren't really for eating now, but I suppose some cakes for a story is a good bargain on a cold winter's day. They're supposed to be for tonight's celebration, being the celebration of Alban Arthan, midwinter's eve an all, but never mind. What story will you be telling us then?' She smiled a gap-toothed smile and d
usted her hands on her apron.
'Well… I'm no Druid bard myself, but I was once close to a very good one, and I do love to tell a story… but which one?' said Uther scratching his head. 'Perhaps I could also trouble you for a mug of ale if you have some around here, just to wet my throat. Now let me think what story to tell.' And then his face brightened. 'I have it, gather around. Who else will hear my one true tale? For I am not a man to make things up, I shall only give you the truth of my life, although you will hear that it has certainly been a very strange life.'
The old lady smiled her thanks and passed him a mug of foaming ale dipped from a barrel to the side of the fire as the other villagers present, came across to make themselves comfortable, eager for a tale, a bright moment in an otherwise cold and dreary day.
'My name,' began Uther, 'is Usher Vance, and mine has been a long and interesting life… or so I've been told in company such as this.' Brushing back a strand of hair, Usher gazed about at the small audience of expectant faces and settled himself more comfortably.
'So many years I have lived and so many things I have done and seen…'
The old lady walked over and put another log on the fire, and it crackled and spat as the villagers drew closer to the warmth. Outside, the wind howled, rustling through the thatch above, the first sign of the storm approaching. Usher Vance settled and took a sip from his leather cup, happy to be sheltered, warm and in good company.
'This shall be a story the likes of which you will no doubt never have heard before. Many years ago in a village not so far from here, there was once a young man, I shall not say who, but he fell in love with a girl of the most uncommon beauty. So in love were they, that they flew to the moon in a boat made of petticoats and kisses… and this is true I tell you, not so easy to find enough petticoats of course… but the kisses, well… they came so very, very easily.'
