Crimson Fire (50 page)

her. And Iago was there, too, but he was unbound. He walked with his head down, as though ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze. Twenty armed warriors followed.

“We must rescue them!” Lludd exclaimed. “Quickly, be- fore they get too far!”

Angharad jumped to her feet. Talhearn instantly pulled her down by grasping both her ankles. She crashed to the ground, Talhearn holding her down
fi
rmly.

“Let me go, old man!” Angharad said, furious. “No! This is not your task.”

“Talhearn,” Lludd said furiously, reaching out to break the Bard’s hold on Angharad, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The old man was panting. “Trying to get the attention of you two idiots. If I may just have a few moments of your pre- cious time . . .”

Angharad pulled free as Lludd grasped Talhearn’s wrists in a grip of iron. She scrambled to the cliff edge. Looking down, she said bitterly, “It’s too late. Look.”

It was, indeed, too late to help Elen. The party had reached the city gates.

Angharad turned to Talhearn, who was sitting on the ground, trying to catch his breath while Lludd still grasped the Bard’s arms grimly. “You traitor!” she accused. “You wanted them to be captured!”

Talhearn’s
fi
ne, blue eyes turned cold. His face hardened.

“You dare accuse me of that?” he said softly. “You dare? Now, listen to me. My orders from the Master Bard were to assist the Dreamer in any way possible. And I have done so. When he was here, Gwydion ap Awst left a letter with me, to be given to you and Lludd at the proper time. And this is the proper time.”

“A letter from the Dreamer? What do I care about that?” Angharad exclaimed.

“Don’t be stupid, Angharad,” Lludd said in a withering tone. “Here, Talhearn, give me that letter.”

Angharad turned to the boy in surprise. He had never talked this way to her before. Actually, he had never talked to anyone this way before. She looked at him closely. Never had she seen him look so much like his father. Maybe he wasn’t a boy, anymore, after all.

Talhearn pulled the letter from his tunic and handed it to Lludd. The Prince opened it and began to read. Angharad looked on over his shoulder.

To: Lludd ap Olwen and Angharad ur Ednyved:

By now Queen Olwen is dead, the battle is lost, the city has been captured, and Elen is a prisoner. You cannot help her now. Yet know that, when the time comes, she will be freed.

My heart goes out to you in the face of so many losses. But you must not give up. A great task awaits you both. You must gather the survivors and leave the vicinity of Dinmael, finding a safe place to shelter. By stealth and by cunning you must gather a teulu that will become a thorn in the side of the enemy. From this seed will come a mighty army. For one day soon the High King will come again. And when he does, he will lead us to take back our own. I command you, in the name of the High King soon to be, that you take on this task. Though you may wish to die, you are commanded to live. This is your duty to Kymru.

Gwydion ap Awst var Celemon Dreamer of Kymru

Angharad looked up. Talhearn was watching them steadily. She was silent, not knowing what to say. With all her heart, she wanted to disregard this letter. She wanted to die
fi
ghting, to wipe out her shame that she was still alive while her Queen lay dead. Yet Gwydion had commanded her in the name of the High King.

“How can he be sure that a High King will return to us?” Angharad demanded.

“He is the Dreamer,” Lludd said absently, reading the letter again. “How could he not know?”

“He could be wrong,” she insisted.

Lludd sighed. “Leave off, Angharad, will you?” Angha- rad fell silent. Lludd said nothing. He stood up and gazed out to the sea, refusing to look at the sight of his sister as captive. Without turning around, he said, “Where shall we go?”

“To Coed Ddu,” Angharad answered promptly. She was shocked. She had no idea that she was thinking that way. But since she had started, she determined to go on. “My sister, Eio- dar, rules the commote where that forest stands. It’s a huge forest. I suspect that many will take refuge there.”

“It would be a good base,” Lludd mused, “from which to be a ‘thorn in their side.’ I
fi
nd that I like that idea very much.”

“Lludd—”

“You are the PenAethenen of Ederynion. And I am Elen’s heir. For now I command, as long as Elen is a captive.”

The air of authority, so new to the boy, nonetheless sat easily on his shoulders. This was something altogether new to Angharad’s experience. She supposed that, since Olwen had discounted Lludd all these years, she had fallen into the same

habit. It looked like that might have been a mistake, after all. “We will do as Gwydion says,” Lludd went on. “We will

meet Emrys’s men and take them with us.”

“So we shall, my Prince,” Talhearn said, rising to his feet, “if you command it. But
fi
rst there is a task I must perform.”

“What is that?”

“I promised to sing Queen Olwen’s death song.” He ges- tured toward the city. “And they bring her now.”

Coranian warriors were carrying the body of Queen Ol- wen from the bloody
fi
eld. Her white tunic and trousers were stained red with blood. On top of her body they laid her shield and spear. At the gates Elen’s slender form stood straight and tall, Olwen’s silvery helmet clutched to her side with her good arm. Iago stood off to one side with his head still bowed. Re- gan, now loosed from her bonds, stood next to Elen, her head lifted proudly in honor of the dead Queen.

As the procession brought the body through the gates, Elen, Regan, and the commander followed, Iago trailing behind. Then the gates closed behind them, and they were lost to sight. Lludd’s face was streaked with tears. Angharad was sur- prised to discover that she, too, was weeping. From behind

them, Talhearn’s voice sang softly.

“Was she not pre-eminent in the field of blood? Was she not the Queen in darkness?

Oh, white swan, shining like the moon

You slowly turned red in the darkening sky.

“Is it not she who destroyed hundreds of the foe? Is it not she who slew the raveners?

Is it not she who raised her sword with her dying strength?

My tongue will recite her death song My eyes will burn with tears,

For our great Queen, Has died on the field

Has died this bloody day.”

Talhearn bowed his head as his tears began to fall. Angha- rad looked out to the sea, unable to bear the sight of her beloved city in enemy hands.

But Lludd stood stif
fl
y, not taking his eyes from the city where

he was born, from the city where his mother was being laid to rest, from the city where his sister was a prisoner. He stood there for a long time, his hands clenched on the rocks before him. At last, without a word, he turned and started down the path that led to the other side of the cliffs, to meet Emrys’s men.

Talhearn, after exchanging a glance with Angharad, fol- lowed him. Angharad nerved herself to look down at the once- shining city. “Good-bye, my Queen,” she whispered. Then she, too, made her way down the cliff path.

And so they began their task. “A thorn in the side of the enemy,” Gwydion had written. Yes, Angharad liked the sound of that, too.

Arberth

Kingdom of Prydyn, Kymru Gwernan Mis, 497

K

Suldydd, Disglair Wythnos—early morning

ing Rhoram mounted the battlements of his city. His soon-to-be-lost city, he reminded himself. He was under no illusions about that.

Achren followed behind him, close as his shadow. She car- ried her bow, the arrows in a quiver on her shoulder. Her black hair was bound tightly beneath her helmet. Behind Achren came Rhoram’s son, Geriant; his Bard, Cian; and his Dewin, Cadell. He looked around quickly for Ellywen, his Druid, but she was not in sight. No time to wonder about her absence now.

Rapidly, he reviewed his plans—such as they were. He had a total of four hundred warriors and a city full of people that must be evacuated. And only one day to do it for once the Coranians landed tomorrow, it would be too late.

Two hundred of his warriors were mounted and ready at the southern gate, two hundred at the east gate. And the people of the city were gathered at the north gate, ready to slip out if

Rhoram could draw the enemy forces south. It was the best he could do on such short notice. For his original plans had not included the presence of the warriors now encamped outside the walls.

As he mounted the last steps, he once again tried to con- vince himself that he hadn’t really seen his daughter among the people of the city last night. Gwenhwyfar had gone with his counselor, Dafydd Penfro, and the rest of them to Ogaf Greu, the caves far to the north, and that was that. He had been un- der a strain last night, what with phantoms and traitors and all manner of things demanding his immediate attention. His eyes had been playing tricks on him. He was—almost—sure of it.

He reached the top of the wall and gazed out to the east- ern plain in front of the city. It was covered with over nine hundred Kymric warriors. Too bad they weren’t on his side. They might have been helpful tomorrow, when the Coranians swooped down on them.

He stood there, shoulders back, head high. He wore a black leather tunic and trousers, and a cloak of forest green. His hel- met was gold, with the
fi
gure of a snarling wolf’s head with em- erald eyes fashioned on the top of it. Around his neck he wore the emerald and gold torque of Prydyn.

A horse and rider were making their way through the crowd of warriors gathered outside the city. The sun beat down on the rider’s
fi
ery red hair. As Rhoram had good cause to know, the rider’s shifty, beady, traitorous eyes were dark brown. And, no doubt, shining with glee right about now.

The rider halted before the east gate and looked up, but before he could begin his speech, Rhoram leaned over the para- pet, abandoning his stern pose and waving cheerily.

“Er
fi
n! You old dog! How wonderful to see you. I was just saying to Efa the other day—you remember Efa? My wife? Your sister? As I was saying to Efa, it’s been so long since I saw poor, pock-marked, shifty-eyed Er
fi
n. Well, she wanted to dis- pute the pock-marked, shifty-eyed part, but her innate honesty compelled her to admit—”

“King Rhoram!” Er
fi
n shouted up, his face
fl
ushed as the laughter of even his own warriors sounded in his ears. “I de- mand that you surrender your city to me!”

“If it’s all the same to you, I believe I’ll keep it for a while longer,” Rhoram called out. “Why don’t you just trot on down the coast and hold off the Coranians who will be landing here tomorrow? That will give you something useful to do. As I was saying to Achren just the other day, it’s important even for toads to feel useful. And she said—”

“Enough!” Er
fi
n roared. “King Rhoram, you have no

choice but to surrender. If you do surrender, you and your peo- ple will be spared.”

Before the words were even out of Er
fi
n’s mouth, Achren had

pulled an arrow from her quiver, notched it onto the bow, and let it
fl
y. The arrow sped down to plunge into the earth between the front hooves of Er
fi
n’s horse. The horse reared, startled by the missile. Unfortunately Er
fi
n did not fall off. He twisted at the reins, and
fi
nally succeeded in quieting the animal.

“Is that enough of an answer for you, Er
fi
n, or do I need to make it more clear? As I have good cause to know, your grasp of subtleties is limited,” Rhoram called down.

Er
fi
n looked up at him in fury. But before his brother-in-

law could formulate an answer, Rhoram mounted the wall and stood straight and proud before the traitorous Kymric warriors,

his earlier, frivolous pose abandoned. He gazed down now at the over nine hundred men and women gathered to
fi
ght him. There were three hundred of Er
fi
n’s own teulu, and two hun- dred each belonging to the Er
fi
n’s three Gwardas. Angawdd ap Dirmyg and Eilonwy ur Gwyn looked up at Rhoram coldly. Tegid ap Trephin refused to look at him at all.

“Warriors of Prydyn!” Rhoram boomed out in a com- manding tone. “Listen to me! Tomorrow morning the forces of Corania will sweep our shores. If unchecked, they will take our country. Our country! The land of Prydyn! Will you let them do this? Will you let them make slaves of the Kymri?”

There was a stirring in the ranks. Quickly, Er
fi
n called out,

“I have been promised protection for all my people! Neither they nor their families will be harmed.”

“And you believe these promises?” Rhoram asked incredu- lously. “You are fools to do so. I call now on all who are true men and women of Prydyn to lay down your arms, taken up against your rightful King!”

Rhoram turned aside and said in a low tone, “Achren, send Geriant to head the two hundred warriors to the southern gate. I will join them there. Have my horse ready. You go with Aidan out the east gate.”