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Rhiann
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DAFYDD’S LONG STRIDES outpaced Rhiann’s smaller, quicker ones, but after his initial head start, she hadn’t fallen further behind. She wasn’t sure she was ready for another battle, but at least this time, she and Dafydd wouldn’t be defending helpless women and children on a lonely path all by themselves. They’d fight among the other men, in the thick of things with everyone else. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t better after all.
They’d run no more than a quarter-mile before shapes of men showed through the trees. Rhiann had feared that it might be hard to tell in the dark which side was theirs, but it took only an instant to make that determination: these men had Cade’s dragon banner waving above their heads and that was the only side she wanted to be on. Dozens of torches lit up the forest and the hillside ahead of them, even as the rain continued to pour down. Cade’s men had established their position to take advantage of their strengths. Unlike the demons, they had archers and a significant number of men on horseback.
Just in front of her, Dafydd skidded to a halt. “Wait!” He held out a hand to stop her headlong rush. “We have time. The demons aren’t upon them yet.”
Now that she’d stopped running, she saw that Dafydd was right. No arrows had yet been loosed. The shouts Dafydd had heard must have been the warning calls that the demons were coming, rather than cries of men in the midst of battle. They’d come upon the scene from the north, with Geraint’s forces taking up the hill to the east of their position and the demons marching through the valley to the west, their own torches sputtering and guttering in the falling rain, but still lighting up the night and showing their progress for all to see.
“Better for them to march in the dark so we couldn’t guess their numbers,” Dafydd said. “Did they think we would quake before them?”
“Mabon probably thought it, he’s that arrogant.” Rain plunked on Rhiann’s hood, and she brushed her wet hair from her face with her fingers. The humidity in the air pressed on her, heavy with the scent of moist earth and foliage. “I’m not sure these demons do any thinking on their own.”
“Geraint couldn’t have set this up better if he’d planned it.” Goronwy came to stand beside the other two. “He owns the high ground. The demons march along a narrow valley and will be within arrow range for two hundred yards before they reach Geraint’s position on the heights.”
“What I don’t understand is why the demons didn’t get here earlier,” Rhiann said. “It was after midnight when we entered Caer Dathyl and ages before we reached Arawn’s cavern.”
“We’re some ten miles from Caer Dathyl, give or take,” Dafydd said. “It’s far, but not so far that I wouldn’t have to agree with Rhiann.”
“They could have ransacked a village or two on the way,” Goronwy said. “That would have slowed them some and isn’t outside their capacity.”
“Remember what I said about time,” Taliesin said, as he and Cade caught up with the others. “It passes differently in the world of the sidhe than in this one.”
“Of course,” Cade said. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
Rhiann moved closer to Cade, comforted by his presence. “You mean just like when we went into Caer Ddu, time passed differently when we were inside Caer Dathyl?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Taliesin.
“No wonder the moon never moved in the sky,” Cade said. “If you hadn’t woken me so forcefully, I would have thought myself dreaming still.”
Rhiann flashed back to the horrible feeling of Cade’s lifeless body beneath her hands. If that was what sleep was to him, she much preferred having him out and about in the middle of the night, even if it sometimes got him into trouble. Because he had no breath or heartbeat, it was as if he had been truly dead.
Two years before, Arianrhod, the goddess of time and fate, had appeared to Cade in the form of a beautiful woman. With no warning, no query or discussion on her part, she had changed him into a sidhe of a sort. He’d become a god among men, except that in exchange for power, she’d taken his breath and heartbeat, and maybe even his soul. Arianrhod was a triple goddess—manifesting at different times and circumstances as mother, maiden, or crone.
Cade had lamented to Rhiann more than once that her coming had made him only one thing: a demon. Rhiann had consoled him with the notion that every man feared the beast inside himself, but Cade had countered that in him it became tangible, and each time he released the power of the sidhe, it became harder for him to hide.
And it was only when he took a man’s life that he felt truly alive.
That was the part of him Rhiann didn’t know—didn’t ever want to know, though she’d seen it more than once. Yet if they were truly to be together, she would have to come to terms with it. Somehow.
“And then once we left the clearing and the clouds moved in, it was impossible to tell the time at all,” Hywel said.
“But surely it hasn’t been three days since we entered Caer Dathyl?” Dafydd said.
“No,” Taliesin said. “I believe the magic has worked in the opposite fashion this time. By my estimation, it’s been only three hours. We’ve many hours still until dawn.”
“Look!” Hywel pointed towards the southern ridge across from the one on which they were standing. “A rider comes!”
“That’s Bedwyr,” Rhiann said. “I can tell from his bulky shape.”
“Let’s go.” Cade grasped Rhiann’s hand and tugged her forward.
“He’s going to be surprised,” Rhun said.
To the companions’ amusement, they arrived at Geraint’s command post simultaneously with Bedwyr, who dismounted from his horse in front of the pickets.
“What took you so long?” Cade said.
“How—” Bedwyr’s mouth opened in astonishment, but then snapped shut. “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”
“It’s a long story and worth the hearing.” Goronwy clapped Bedwyr on the back in greeting. “Glad to see you made it too and in one piece.”
“I take it by the fact that you stand in front of me that all went well inside Caer Dathyl?” Bedwyr said. “Did you find Arawn?”
“We did,” Dafydd said.
“Suffice to say, Teregad has been deposed, Arawn banished to the Underworld where he belongs, and the black cauldron closed,” Cade said. “For now.”
“There’s more, but first, we’ve some demons to kill,” Rhun said.
“Right.” Bedwyr blinked. “Glad that’s straightened out.”
Geraint and Tudur hurried over.
“My lords! You’ve come just in time.” Geraint’s eyes scanned the companions, and Rhiann could see him counting them to make sure none were missing. His brows furrowed as he got to eight and realized they were one short, but he didn’t ask about Siawn. “I trust everyone is well?”
“Very well,” Cade said. “What’s our situation?”
Geraint nodded at Tudur, who stepped forward to speak. “We’ve archers arrayed in a half-circle at the crest of the hill. They’ll do their work first, and we’ll see how many demons they can bring down. After that, it will be hand-to-hand, I’m afraid. We don’t have enough arrows to take care of all of them.”
“We brought you a few more,” Dafydd said.
Rhiann glanced at the quiver he wore and the bow in his hand, noting them for the first time. “Where did—”
“It was to hand when I awoke.” Dafydd shrugged. “I put it on. Your quiver also has more arrows in it than it did, you know.”
Rhiann had been so occupied with Cade that she hadn’t noticed that either. Shameful, really, because the first obligation of a warrior was to his weapons. Or hers.
Hywel moved to stand beside Dafydd. “I’ve arrows as well.” He held up a bow and twisted to show the quiver on his back. “It seemed petty to question the gift.”
“I know what you mean,” Cade said. “Not that any of us would have benefitted from turning the goddess down.”
“It’s time to move, Cade,” Rhun said.
“Right. You three go with Taliesin.” Cade stabbed a finger at Dafydd, Rhiann, and Hywel. “And no putting yourselves at undue risk! It would be a shame to have survived Caer Dathyl only to fall to an errant demon axe.”
“We’ll protect her,” Hywel said, taking Cade’s words for what he really meant. Dafydd nodded vigorously beside him.
“Just as likely to be the other way around.” Taliesin turned on one heel. “But no matter. Young ones, with me.” He set off along the top of the bowl on which they were perched.
Cade called after Rhiann, imitating Bedwyr’s growl. “Rhiann—”
“I know. I know.” She flapped a hand at him over her shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better, cariad!”
Rhiann waved again and then focused on the task at hand. She walked steadily behind the others until Taliesin came to a halt by a group of archers from Aberffraw. They stood in a row, gazing west towards the relentlessly advancing lines of demons. Rhiann read fear in the set of their shoulders—and perhaps a bit of misery, given the weather conditions. Nobody had yet strung a bow, as the rain would harm the bowstrings. But that meant nobody was really ready for this fight either.
“Lady Rhiannon!” It was Llywelyn, the captain of the Aberffraw garrison. “You’re safe and whole!”
“Quite safe,” Rhiann said. “I expect you to let me know if my draw isn’t as precise as you expect.”
“Always, my lady,” Llywelyn said, to general laughter.
The tension she’d felt in the men on the ridge eased for a moment. Then it ratcheted up again as Dafydd, Hywel, Taliesin, and she took their places alongside them—not because of them, but because the demons were approaching arrow range, though they still had a little time.
Taliesin had positioned the four of them on the left flank, so they’d be among the first to shoot at the demons. Hopefully, the archers on the other side of the valley, some three hundred yards away, would do the same, and together they’d catch the demons in a pincer movement.
“We’re going to be all right, Rhiann,” Dafydd said. “These demons aren’t so tough. We’ve fought them before.”
Rhiann choked on a laugh. In truth, the demons were tougher than humans, as Dafydd knew well. But maybe not as smart. That had to help.
“What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Hywel said.
Rhiann wrinkled her nose at his irreverent tone. The worst thing that could happen was that when the arrows started flying, the demons would charge at them, thinking to break through their lines, rather than flee the other way. If that happened, if the foot soldiers who stood on the slopes below them couldn’t stop them, the archers would be unable to defend themselves adequately. More lightly armed than the rest of the army, they might all die. At least as full-fledged knights, Hywel and Dafydd had swords at their waists. Rhiann had only a knife.
“We planted stakes twenty yards ahead, on the uphill slope,” Llywelyn said, reading her thoughts. “If they try to get through them, the stakes will give us time to regroup.”
“Or run away,” Hywel said. “That means you, Lady Rhiannon.”
“At the very least, the stakes will slow the demons down,” Dafydd said.
“How did you know the demons were coming?” Rhiann said. “King Cadwaladr sent Bedwyr to warn you of their numbers, but he arrived when we did.”
The little light at the end of Taliesin’s staff gave off enough illumination to reveal Llywelyn’s offended expression. “Scouts, of course. We’ve been ready for over an hour.”
“And what is the hour?” Hywel said.
Taliesin glanced at him and nodded his approval at the question. All of them had wanted to know the answer to that since they’d woken in the clearing.
“Four hours after midnight, I reckon,” Llywelyn said. “Less than three until the sun rises.”
“Dawn will not save us from the demons this time,” Taliesin said. “It will be over by then, come what may.”
Now that the demons were closer, the archers settled into whatever stance they found most comfortable. Their joviality and humor, which had been false to begin with, was gone. The leafless branches above their heads continued to drip onto their heads in an offbeat rhythm which Rhiann couldn’t help counting out in time to the marching of the demons.
Dafydd slipped a knife from his belt. Like the sword at his waist, the join between the blade and the hilt formed a cross, and he kissed it. Hywel, for his part, pulled his sword from its sheath, stabbed it into the ground in front of him, and knelt. Rhiann didn’t copy them, but said her own prayer, perhaps a mirror of Hywel’s: Dear God, keep me safe. Let all those here return to their homes in one piece, both in body and mind.
Rhiann closed her eyes. As she’d been trained by the captain and friend who taught her to shoot, long ago at Aberffraw, she forced herself to stuff all emotion into a box in her mind and put it away, as if placing it on a shelf out of reach. Cade had told her that some men fought angry and it gave them power. For her, it was better to feel nothing—no anger, hatred, love—for it would distract her from the task at hand, and she couldn’t afford that. For now, there is no love for Cade; no fear for my friends; no regret for a life half-lived. There is only the bow in my hand and the arrows in my quiver, with death a widening abyss beneath our feet.
