Into the Shadows (Islands in the Mist Book 4)

by J. M. Hofer

  Tegid’s laughter stopped, and soon a black bearded face peered over the edge of the ship. “There he is! What took ye so long? Get up here, lad!”

  Taliesin motioned to Viviaine and Amergin, who were making their way down. “I’ve brought some companions with me.”

  Tegid eyed the newcomers, his gaze passing quickly over Amergin but lingering on Viviaine. “So you have.”

  “Can we sail with you as far as Gwythno?”

  “You can. We’ve sold all our goods, so we’ve plenty of room fer passengers willin’ to pull their weight. Come aboard.”

  Taliesin led the way up the ramp. Braith suddenly let out a happy bark and bounded up ahead of him, tail waving. He looked up to see Arvel standing at the top of the ramp, grinning. “Brother! You are here! Where is the big man and the other dog?”

  Taliesin felt a pang of regret. “They won’t be coming with us, I’m afraid. Gawyr has gone north and Griffin didn’t make it.”

  Arvel’s grin faded. He knelt down to scratch Braith’s ears, letting her lick his face.

  Tegid came over and clapped him on the back. “Good to see yer face.”

  Taliesin smiled. “Good to see yours, too. When do we sail?”

  Tegid shrugged. “We were only waitin’ on you. We kin leave tomorrow. We’ll be stoppin’ in Rheged fer Bran and Lucia, then sail on to Gwythno. Let’s hope they’ve found Arhianna.”

  Taliesin was not surprised to hear Bran and Lucia were in Rheged. Lucia had nearly crawled out of her skin after he had told her Arhianna was in danger. “They won’t find her. She’s up north as well, and will be, for some time. She’s training with a clan of female warriors.”

  Tegid raised his brows and let out a satisfied growl. “I knew she was fine! Lucia’s been worryin’ herself sick, like she always does. Tried to tell ‘er that lass kin take care of ‘erself.”

  Taliesin shuddered. Poor Lucia. If she only knew.

  Tegid turned his attention toward Viviaine. “Welcome aboard, m’ lady—what might I call ye?”

  She smiled at him. “Lady Viviaine.”

  “Ye remind me of m’daughter.” Tegid remarked, offering his hand as she stepped onto the deck. He barked orders at the crew, who brought a few stools for their new guests to sit upon. A moment later, Creirwy appeared, smiling, with a display of gold cups upon a matching platter. “Welcome to the Ceffyl Dŵr.” She smiled and set it down on the barrel in front of her father, who crossed his arms in satisfaction and let out a sigh.

  “See how beautiful she is?” he said to Viviaine with a wink. “You two could be sisters—twin jewels fallen from the crown of Venus to bless us poor wretches down here on earth.”

  Creirwy rolled her eyes. “Please, Father.”

  “Alright. I’ll stop.” He flourished toward the cups. “Here’s to somethin’ else beautiful—what d’ ye think of these, then?” The cups were stunning, etched with elaborate floral designs and a circle of gems mounted just below the rim. “All the way from Constantinople. What a strange port that is. Thought I’d seen it all ‘til I pulled into that glorious place.” Tegid passed out cups and poured the wine himself. “Gods, what mastery of craft! I’ll never sell ‘em.” He held his up and admired it. “Here’s to a successful voyage.”

  They all drank. In that moment, with the taste of summer apples on their lips, all instinctively looked toward what they loved most; Viviaine gazed at Taliesin, Tegid and Arvel looked at Creirwy, Amergin raised his eyes to the stars, and Taliesin looked out to sea, praying Ula and his daughter were safe.

  Tegid put his hand on Taliesin’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, as if, somehow, though it were impossible, he knew what Taliesin struggled with. “So, then. Tell me, young bard, what business do ye have in Caer Leon?”

  “I’m going to take Myrthin Wyllt’s place. The Pendragon has confessed to me that he’s grown tired of his strange ways, as has the queen.” Taliesin shot Viviaine a look, almost as if she were to blame. She averted her eyes, as if she agreed she was. Yet, in spite of all that had happened, he could not deny he still loved her—in the deepest part of his heart and soul, he still loved her. Great Mother, help me. What am I to do?

  The wine flowed all night, filling everyone with a sense of well-being. The feeling of heaviness that had weighed Taliesin down since waking up in the crystal cave of Ynys Wydryn now felt lighter. He knew Viviaine had merely faltered because of her love for him. He trusted Amergin, regardless of what prudence might prescribe. He felt in his heart that Ula and Morrigan were safe, and that Ula would get her safely to Caer Leon. And he felt deeply confident Igerna would agree to the plan he had been brewing in his mind since the day his daughter was born. He would succeed in keeping her from Finbheara’s clutches.

  But what of you, poor Arhianna? He looked skyward, as if he might see her there. What is to become of you? What horrors have you suffered? You’ve never been fond of fighting, like Inga—and though you were skilled, you weren’t especially fond of archery, either. If you truly wanted to learn to fight, Seren would gladly have taught you. Why seek Scáthach’s training, so far from home?

  He sighed and Tegid noticed. “None of that!” he scolded. “Give me that cup.” He grabbed it with his meaty paw and filled it once more.

  Tegid was not the only one who had noticed Taliesin’s somber mood. Viviaine reached over and squeezed his hand. “We will defeat them—I swear it—and if your daughter finds she cannot cope with the cruelty of this world, as I could not, Affalon shall always be open to her. This I offer, even if you should choose to wed her mother.” Her expression twisted as if the words had just poisoned her. “I regret my jealousy. It drove me to madness. It is a trait of the Sídhefolk, and it runs in my blood. I cannot promise it will not lead me astray again, but, I swear, I shall do all I can to withstand it.”

  Taliesin felt moved by her words and kissed the palm of her hand. “That is all I can ask of you.”

  ***

  Viviaine stared up at Caer Sidi from the hammock Tegid had hung up for her on deck. She had insisted on sleeping above deck, for she could not bear the thought of sleeping anywhere her mistress could not look down upon her—especially so far from Affalon.

  For the first time since leaving Ynys Wydryn her chest felt light, her breath and blood buoyant with joy. She felt so full of gratitude, she found it difficult to fall asleep.

  She had prayed to Arianrhod for moons, desperate for Taliesin’s forgiveness. Tonight, hope leapt back to life in her chest, like an ember one thought had burned out, but sparked back to life when blown upon. Thank you, Mistress. I will do anything to win him back. Nothing else matters. His love is all I want in the world.

  She heard the soft sound of footsteps coming toward her, and her heart quickened. Oh, let it be you, my love—come and lay beside me. Hold me. Let it be as it was before.

  She felt a man’s grip on her shoulder, but it was not the tender touch of a lover. It was rough. Before she could react, another hand covered her mouth. She heard the sound of a knife cutting rope, and a moment later, the hammock gave way beneath her. Someone caught her, yanked her hair back, poured something bitter in her mouth, and gagged her. She thrashed against her captors but soon felt her strength draining away. She looked up at Caer Sidi in terror.

  The stars looked down at her, twinkling helplessly. Don’t give up, they told her. Don’t give up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Unanswered Questions

  “But where could she be?” Taliesin exclaimed. He had been searching the ship, the docks, and the harbor for the last hour.

  “I don’t know,” Amergin replied, squinting as he scanned the shipyards. “But I’m going to stay behind and search for her. You must sail on with your people.”

  Taliesin realized he must have been wearing a look of concern, because Amergin gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll find her. We’ll meet you in Caer Leon as soon as we can.”

  Taliesin felt a jolt of suspicion. Perhaps they planned this. But t
o what end? He could think of no advantage staying behind might grant them—just the opposite—they would not reach Caer Leon for some time on foot. And the dangers would be far greater. Might it be some ploy of Myrthin’s? He decided to trust her disappearance was no plot of her own. “Go to Urien if you need help. I’ll tell him about you when we reach Rheged.”

  Amergin nodded. Then, without a farewell to anyone else, he swung himself over the side of the ship, shimmied down the ropes like a boy half his age, and disappeared into the crowd on the dock.

  ***

  Tegid scowled. “What? That beauty’s no’ comin’ with us? Why?”

  “She has business with Urien of Rheged,” Taliesin lied, for the umpteenth time that moon. He was growing to loathe himself for it.

  Tegid shook his head. “Damn. I was lookin’ forward to gazing on that face fer a few weeks. Can’t say I mind the other one’s no’ comin’, never much cared fer druids, but that sweet pearl’s a hard loss.” He leaned in closer. “Ye did no’ make ‘er angry, did ye? Lover’s quarrel? Hmmm?”

  “No.”

  Tegid narrowed his eyes on him. “You tellin’ true?”

  “Yes.”

  Tegid shook his head again. “Shame. Thought fer sure ye’d found yerself a bride at long last. I saw silver an’ golden babes in yer future!”

  Taliesin’s heart twinged at the comment. He did know what was right anymore. He had always trusted his heart to lead him in the right direction. Now, it pointed him in two different directions, like a weather vane spinning in a storm. All he knew for certain was he had a daughter to protect. That was the only thing that was clear, and he clung to it like a castaway to piece of driftwood after a shipwreck. “When do we sail?”

  “Soon as ye give the word.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Tegid nodded and clapped him on the back. “Aw-right, lads! Free this lady of ‘er laces and hoist up ‘er skirts!” Tegid moved up and down the deck, doing what he did best—boosting morale and barking commands. The crew fell to, singing in response, and soon the Ceffyl Dŵr sailed out of the harbor to greet the open sea.

  ***

  They reached Rheged after a few days, pulling into a port filled with fishmongers and seaside hawkers.

  “We’re late. They were expectin’ us a few weeks ago. Did no’ expect to spend so much time up north, but I’d do anythin’ fer ye or Ula. Anythin’ at all.” He nodded toward Arvel. “She told ya ‘bout that one, eh?”

  Taliesin nodded.

  “It’s her choice, but I’m with Irwyn. He’s been sick about it since the lad was born. Whaddaye think of it all?”

  “She should have told him,” Taliesin said without hesitation. “My father would have loved him. Would have let him do whatever he liked, whether that was to meet with merchants and preside over feasts, or live like a seal in the bay.” He felt his throat choke on either anger or sorrow—he could not tell which. Perhaps both.

  “I’m with ye both. She shoulda told the sorry fella. But it’ll no’ be me who tells ‘im. Not Irwyn, either. That’s fer yer ma to do, an’ her alone. Only her.” Tegid eyed him in a way that made it clear he had issued a warning.

  “I won’t tell him. I’ll convince her to do it, the next time I see her. I won’t give up until she agrees.”

  Tegid nodded and clapped him on the back. “Good lad. Do yer best. Gods know we’ve tried, but she’ll no’ listen to us.” He returned to the rudder and focused on steering the ship into port. They were moored within the hour.

  Taliesin was one of the first to disembark, anxious to reach Urien’s fortress before nightfall. He had tried to leave Braith behind with Arvel, but she refused to leave his side. “Okay, lass, come on then.”

  “Brother, where you go?” Arvel asked.

  “I’ll come back soon. I have to talk to King Urien.”

  Arvel raised his brows. “Who is this?”

  “You don’t know him. Stay here and help Tegid. I’ll be back.”

  “I wait for you.”

  Taliesin squeezed his shoulder in farewell and headed toward the village. Moments later, Creirwy came running down the dock, waving to catch his attention. “I’m going with you,” she announced. “I’ve arranged for some horses. Follow me.” She strode off in front of him, a heavy pair of saddlebags slung over her shoulders.

  Taliesin did not have a moment to protest, but, truthfully, Creirwy was good company. Everything became easier with her along. She did not appear to make any conscious effort to melt hearts with her beauty and charm, yet she did—men and women, young and old alike. They were on horseback and through Rheged’s gates by nightfall, received in the hall by King Urien himself.

  Urien wore a wide grin and a heavy, winter cloak. A fire blazed in the hearth, warding off the now-in-earnest winter chill. He stood up as they entered, beaming. “You’ve come back, at last!” He glanced at Taliesin but a moment before feasting his eyes on Creirwy’s beauty. “Good Lord, Taliesin. No wonder you were in such a state to find her.” He took Creirwy’s hand and kissed it. “If you were mine, Lady, and anyone took you from me, I’d search for you day and night until death throttled me cold with his long, ghastly fingers.”

  Creirwy smiled. “You flatter me, King Urien.” She glanced over at Taliesin with an expectant look. Luckily, Taliesin did not have to offer any clarification because Urien changed the subject.

  “And where’s my enormous friend?”

  “Gawyr served me well. He’s gone back north to train with the warrior-maid, Scáthach. I imagine the next time you see him, he’ll be the most dangerous man in all of Caledonia.”

  Urien’s eyes widened. “Scáthach? Are you telling me that woman actually lives?”

  “She does.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I met her.”

  Urien narrowed his eyes. “How do you know it was truly her?”

  Taliesin thought of Scáthach’s wild eyes and tall, muscular body. He had never seen a woman who had intimidated him more, save Cerridwen. “Believe me, my king, the stories are true—it was her. And I must explain, this is not my love, but rather my half-sister, Creirwy. I did find the woman I was seeking, however, with Gawyr’s help. I could not have done it without him. She is alive and well, also training with Scáthach.”

  Urien let out a sigh. “I’ll be damned. Didn’t expect that, did you?”

  “No.” Taliesin shook his head. I damn well didn’t. “We’ve come for Bran and Lucia—provided they are still guests of yours.”

  “Yes, yes. They are. I’ll send for them. They’ll be eager to see you. I’m sorry to say we’ve not been as fortunate as you were. Lady Lucia disappeared for a week not long back—went riding in the forest and got lost for days. Bran just about killed himself trying to find her—and we’ve still not found their daughter. I’ve not said anything to them, they’ve been through so much, but I’m sure the lass is either dead or deep within Saxon territory. Otherwise, we surely would have located her by now.”

  Taliesin hated the fact that Urien’s men were out wasting their time and resources searching for Arhianna, but he could not very well tell Urien that Arhianna was the woman he had been looking for all along. Certainly not now. “I’d be happy to go to them, if you’ll tell me where they are,” he offered. I need to speak with them alone—before they say something that will expose my lies to Urien.

  “They’re likely in their quarters. I’ll have someone escort you, and then show you to your own. You’ll stay a few nights, won’t you?” He addressed the question to Taliesin, but he was looking at Creirwy, who saved the day. “Tonight, we shall, but I regret we must sail on tomorrow. We were delayed in Alt Clud for over a week.”

  Urien looked as if he had just stepped in sheep dung. “No! You must stay longer! I was so looking forward to some music from my new bard—and getting to know you, my lady.”

  Taliesin’s stomach sank. He had not yet given Urien his other bad news. “My king, I regret I must sail on
with them. I’m afraid the Pendragon has need of me, and I dare not refuse him.”

  Urien grimaced. “You owe me some music, Bard. That was the agreement.”

  “I know. And I shall fulfill that agreement when I am able, but I cannot do so now.”

  “I may be dead by then. My old ears shriveled up from listening to tiresome music.”

  Taliesin did not know if he would offend Urien by laughing, so restrained himself. To his relief, Urien smirked. “Very well. But for every moon I must wait, I shall add a moon to your pledge.”

  Taliesin bowed his head. “Agreed. And you shall have music tonight for as long as my voice can hold a note.”

  “So be it. Now, go and refresh yourselves.”

  Urien gave a few orders to his servant, who led Taliesin and Creirwy from the hall down a long walkway to a series of rooms. He stopped in front of one on the west side of the fortress and rapped on the door. “My lord? My lady?”

  Bran opened the door. “Yes?” It took him but a moment to notice Taliesin standing behind the servant. His face burst into a grin. “Thank the gods!” He pushed the servant aside to embrace Taliesin and squeezed him.

  “Who is it?” Lucia’s voice called. A moment later, she appeared in the doorway as well. “Oh, Taliesin! And Creirwy, too!” She threw herself into the mix of embraces. “Taliesin, I’ve been so worried—please, both of you, come inside.” She ushered them in, bid the servant goodbye, and shut the door. She motioned toward a few low stools and cushions near the hearth. “Come, sit down.” She waited a moment, then went back to the door and opened it again, very slowly. She peeked out, looked both directions, and then returned, her voice lowered to a whisper. Her eyes were full of anguish and hope. “Please tell me you’ve found her.”

  “She’s fine,” Taliesin offered immediately, eager to put her out of her misery as quickly as possible.