Song of the Pendragon

Table of Contents

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Book Three in The Last Pendragon Saga

Song of the Pendragon

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Sarah Woodbury

Song of the Pendragon

HE IS A KING, A WARRIOR, the last hope of his people-and the chosen one of the sidhe ... Faced with the unleashed might of the Underworld, Rhiann, Cade, and their companions travel to the world of the sidhe. And it is there, in the heart of Arawn’s domain, that Cade finds himself finally able to grasp the reins of his own power to become the Christian king and pagan hero that has always been his destiny.

Song of the Pendragon is the third book in The Last Pendragon Saga.

Chapter One

Rhiann

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“RHUN TELLS ME YOU CAN shoot a bow?” Bronwen said.

Rhiann looked up from her mending, smiling. She was trying to be helpful, but any distraction from the basket of torn clothing at her feet was welcome. “Did he?”

Bronwen smiled. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. How did you learn?”

Rhiann rested her hands in her lap, wondering how much she should reveal, and then decided to accept the friendship Bronwen offered. It was rare in her experience. “When I was a young girl. I dreamt there was another mother and father somewhere in the world, missing me. For a while, I examined every family that entered my father’s hall for the possibility that they were my parents. But I was small, skinny, and shy, and never even had the courage to approach a likely couple. Instead, I would behave foolishly to gain attention, laughing too loudly at a joke perhaps, or chasing one of the kitchen cats around the tables, getting underfoot, to the point that, invariably, my nurse would send me to my room.”

“That’s not so unusual,” Bronwen said. “All girls behave in such a manner, one time or another.”

Rhiann gave her a rueful smile. “Perhaps. All I know is that I would go, protesting, to fall sobbing on my pallet. My life changed, however, when the captain of my father’s guard, a man named Owain, befriended me. Although my father’s desire for me to learn the bow was not meant for either Owain or me to take seriously, not really, Owain did—or at least took it seriously enough to encourage me to keep trying.

“After my first lesson, which I’d participated in under protest since I deliberately did everything in my power to displease my father, I surprised myself by waking early the following morning and putting in an appearance at the archery range. I remember walking down the path to the clearing near Aberffraw, dressed in a boy’s breeches and linen shirt. The mist had been hovering just above the grass and at first we couldn’t see the targets.”

“‘Imagine them,’ Owain urged. ‘There will come a time when you’ll be able to close your eyes and loose your arrow, and find that you hit your target. This won’t be because of luck, or a magic arrow. It will be because you have practiced every day until your arms trembled. Your skills will have grown with you, and the bow will come so naturally to you that you cannot miss.’”

“Rhun says much the same,” Bronwen said. “Already, Cador begs his father to take him to shoot, even though he is only big enough to hold the tiny bow Rhun made for him.”

“Cador loves his father,” Rhiann said. “He wants to please him.”

“Yes,” Bronwen said.

“It was the same for me,” Rhiann said. “For the first time, I had someone who genuinely cared about me. I’d been such a lost and lonely child I hadn’t even known I was capable of feeling love and certainly hadn’t ever had it returned. For the first time ever, another person had seen me, Rhiann, as a human being—not a burden, or a bastard princess, or an embarrassment—but as someone worthy of his attention. From then on, I went to Owain with all my girlish sorrows and foolish complaints. All he’d ever do is pat me awkwardly on the shoulder and hand me my bow and quiver. ‘Let’s go shoot,’ he’d say, and off we’d go to spend an hour in peace.”

Rhiann paused, remembering the comforting routine of practice: Press, loose. Press, loose. After Owain had died, when Rhiann was fifteen, she’d found solace with the bow, spending hours at the range. But then, she’d made the mistake (not intentional, of course) of blossoming into a woman. The difference between fifteen and seventeen was the difference between her father ignoring her and suddenly discovering that he had a valuable commodity on his hands. Rhiann had even heard him comment to one of his advisors, a gleeful note in his voice, that his ‘ugly spit of a girl had turned into a beauty.’

Rhiann hadn’t necessarily believed him, since he had a vested interest in her looks since it raised her selling price. Unfortunately, one consequence of his interest was that in the following years, Cadfael more closely scrutinized her actions. While he hadn’t actually forbid her from continuing her archery, she’d kept it as much to herself as possible. He’d caught her three months ago, coming back to the fort adorned in her usual male clothing, the sun high in the sky. Quoting the Old Testament, he’d cursed her for bringing disgrace upon his house and confined her to her room. Her clothes had disappeared into Alcfrith’s trunk, although Rhiann hadn’t know that at the time. Her father burned her bow and wouldn’t allow her another.

With this, the distance between them hardened and became permanent. By the time Cade came to Cadfael’s court, Rhiann had not spoken more than four words to her father in months (those words being “No,” “Yes,” and “My lord.”). In retrospect, it was no wonder he’d wanted to sell her as bride to a Saxon, if only to be rid of her somber presence behind his chair. And now he was dead. It occurred to Rhiann that someone ought to send word to Alcfrith that she was a widow for the second time, and more free than she’d ever been.

With that task on her mind, Rhiann took leave of Bronwen, whose attention had been caught by Cador, and entered the great hall to find Cade and many of his companions slumped in chairs around the fire. They’d been conversing, but stopped as she appeared.

“What is it?” Rhiann looked from one to the other. “I can tell by the way you suddenly stopped talking that something’s happened.”

Dafydd had stood at her approach and now indicated that she should take his chair. Rhiann smiled at him, a little nervously, and sat.

“I made a mistake last night,” Cade said. “My friends are impressing upon me the error of my ways.”

“Not that some good hasn’t come of it, mind you,” Rhun said. “You saved a life, learned humility, and we know more about Teregad and Mabon than we did before.”

Cade bowed his head gravely. “Thank you, Rhun, for that small consolation.”

“What mistake are you talking about?” Rhiann said.

Goronwy spoke. “Our most noble lord took it upon himself to attack a large encampment of Teregad’s men all by himself. I hate to think what would have happened if we hadn’t arrived in time to rescue him.”

Rhiann looked over at Cade who actually looked sheepish. “It’s true. I’ve apologized profusely and admitted the error of my ways. No need to pile on.”

There probably was a need, but Rhiann let it go. “Now tell me of Mabon and Teregad. What have we learned?”

“We know that they are less confident in their powers than they want to be,” Bedwyr said. “They sent men to camp on our ridge because they want Cade dead. They’ve given up on the idea of bringing him to their side and want to kill him instead.”

Rhiann stared at Bedwyr. “That’s the good thing to come out of this?”

Taliesin smiled. “Mabon already admitted Cadwaladr’s power when he asked him to serve him, and now, with this action, Mabon has acknowledged that Cadwaladr will never submit to him.”

“Since Lord Cadwaladr escaped from Caer Ddu, Mabon has been worrying that Cadwaladr has resources greater than his own,” Siawn said. “He doesn’t understand how Cadwaladr escaped—who could have helped him or why—and now Mabon’s only thought is to destroy him.”

“Mabon’s a god,” Rhiann said. “The son of Arawn and Arianrhod. How can Cade be more powerful?”

“Cade offers the people of Wales exactly the opposite of the gods: order, reason, justice,” Taliesin said.

“And I’m sidhe,” Cade said, in case anyone had forgotten. “That makes me stronger than any human.”

“Which Mabon doesn’t know about,” Rhun said, “especially as we have so far killed anyone who might report it to him.”

“And all of this is important—why?” Dafydd said. Rhiann loved that he just asked the questions that came into his head. Often they were the same as hers, but ones she was too shy to ask.

“Because it clarifies what we must do,” Cade said.

“Right,” Goronwy said. “We must stop Mabon. He can’t be allowed to continue interfering with our world and loosing more demons among us.”

“I thought only Arawn could release the demons,” Rhiann said.

“It seems Arawn is humoring Mabon,” Cade said.

“Humoring him?” Rhiann said, indignation in her voice. “Even though he’s a grown—man, god, whatever he is—his father does whatever Mabon wants in order to make him happy?”

“Exactly,” Cade said.

“It’s one thing to challenge Mabon,” Rhiann said. “It is quite another to fight Arawn. He’s the Lord of the Underworld!”

“We know that, Rhiann,” Cade said. “But our choice is to do nothing, or to do this.”

“Our path is laid before our feet,” Taliesin said. “Regardless of our numbers, regardless of which other lords support us, we will ride to Caer Dathyl and descend beneath it to the entrance to Annwn. If it’s there, of course.”

“And we will close the cauldron before Mabon turns Wales into his personal playground,” Rhun said, nodding. “Sounds straightforward.”

That broke the tension in everyone’s face and they laughed. Then Goronwy turned serious again, focusing on Cade. “Or we’ll die in the attempt.”

Cade nodded slowly. “Yes. Or we’ll die in the attempt.”

* * * * *

THE JOURNEY FROM BRYN y Castell this time was very different. Before leaving the fort, Cade, Rhun, and Taliesin had spent many hours talking together, and afterwards they sent riders to all the principalities in Gwynedd. They decided that they weren’t just going to make war on Caer Dathyl. In this, Rhun’s view had won out: Cade was going to declare himself before his people. He would claim the throne of Gwynedd, lay the foundation for his ascension to the crown of the High King, and ask for the help of Gwynedd’s other kings in defeating Arawn.

Before traveling to Caer Dathyl, the companions would go to Aberffraw. And Cade would see his mother.

The company stayed a night at Dinas Emrys on the way. As they navigated the harsh terrain, Rhiann thought back to that first day with Cade, and shook her head in amazement at how far she’d come in so short a time. Am I even the same person? The garrison welcomed them, having heard and seen nothing amiss since they’d left. Dinas Emrys, for all its mythical significance, was only important to Cade and Taliesin, not Mabon.

By the next evening, the company had reached the Menai Strait. Once again, the experience was very different from before, although the boatmen at the ferry were the same men who had transported Cade and Cynyr before Cadfael’s soldiers had ambushed them. This time, in contrast to when Cade and Rhiann had crossed the other way in great distress, they traveled at night for Cade’s sake, and fifty knights and men-at-arms accompanied them. Cade had left as a fugitive. Now he returned as a king.

Rhiann wore a dress, split up the middle so she could ride more comfortably. She’d argued that if she’d left dressed as a boy, she should return the same way, but Cade had shaken his head.

“You left as the unloved, bastard daughter of the former King of Gwynedd. You return as ...” he paused, “a king’s friend.”

Rhiann had looked at him, wondering at his choice of words but afraid to ask what they might mean. Cade immediately looked away and found something else to focus on. The moment was lost.

They followed the main road this time. It went northwest from the Strait, and then turned southwest towards Aberffraw. As if the gods, or at least some of them anyway, approved of their journey, the weather had turned warmer and ceased the endless rain. Once again the moon lit the sky and the stars were strewn across it like diamonds on the hilt of Caledfwlch.

Anglesey is comprised primarily of farmland, and unlike the rest of Wales, nearly devoid of hills. At some far distant time in the past, someone first built on the ridge on which Aberffraw stood. The Romans had pushed those ancient people out but the Welsh had taken the fort back again after the Romans had left. They’d lived there ever since. The torches from the gatehouse tower shone for miles. Rhiann could see them long before they reached the fort, and for the first time in her life, felt like they were welcoming her home.

Cade had sent word that he was coming but Rhiann still worried that he wouldn’t be treated with respect. She shouldn’t have. As they rode up to the gatehouse, the sentries stood stiffly, saluting Cade with fists thumping on their chests.

“The man on the right is one of the men-at-arms who dragged you into the hall last time,” Rhiann said to Cade, speaking low so no one else could hear.

“I recognize him,” Cade said.

“My lord, Cadwaladr.” The man stepped forward. “Welcome to Aberffraw.”

“A bit different this time, isn’t it?” Cade’s tone was mild.

“Yes, my lord,” the man said. He was probably worried as to whether or not he would still have a head on his shoulders before the night was out, but Cade just nodded and passed through the open gate.

Alcfrith greeted him at the entrance to the hall, a cup of wine in her hand.

“Mother,” Cade said.

“Cadwaladr,” she said. “Welcome, my lord, to Aberffraw.”

Cade crossed the threshold alone, took the cup, drank, and handed it back to Alcfrith. Then he leaned down, and, with some hesitation—whether because of his affliction or out of uncertainty at his reception, Rhiann didn’t know—embraced his mother. Alcfrith held herself stiff, her hands out, not touching him and perhaps afraid to spill the cup. Rhiann reached out and took it from her and the action released her. Her arms came around Cade’s waist and she put her face into his chest.

Rhiann stepped forward from where she’d been standing with Goronwy, Rhun, and Taliesin, each of them a step behind Cade, and gazed around the hall she’d hated for as long as she could remember. She’d seen such depravity here, such horror over the years. Men in her father’s court had behaved in a far worse fashion than Cade ever could, sullying their souls, or even casting them away and never noticing their loss. Cade, with his absent soul, was far more human than many of them.

In the time since Cadfael had disappeared, however, the hall had changed beyond recognition. Gone were the faded tapestries and weapons of war, replaced by long banners in jewel tones and fresh rush mats scented with herbs laid on the floor. Standing along each wall, their hands behind their backs or resting on the hilts of their swords, were the great men of Gwynedd. They’d come to meet Cade, even to serve him.

Perhaps.

Meanwhile, they watched, waiting for their leader to greet them. Cade kissed the top of his mother’s head and gently put her to one side. Alcfrith moved to stand beside Rhiann and clasped her hand.

“Thank you,” she said. “You’ve given me back my life.”

Rhiann didn’t deny her. “And in doing so, found mine.”

Cade straightened his shoulders and in a swift movement, unsheathed Caledfwlch. Holding it in front of him, he paced across the hall towards the high table, which was empty of guests. The sword, always lit from within even in sunlight, glowed increasingly brighter with every step he took. Streams of light shown from it, as if it was a star in Cade’s hand.

The men against the wall murmured, taking note of Cade’s men who’d begun to file into the hall and take up positions along the wall. They spoke to each other as they filled in the spaces. Dafydd nodded tersely at one man who’d engaged him in conversation, but his formality was tempered by the light in his eyes and the quick grin he couldn’t completely suppress.

“Caledfwlch!” The word burst from a man near the front of the room.

“Is it really?” One of the guards near the door whispered to his companion.

“It is Caledfwlch,” Taliesin said, loudly. “I name it Battle-breach; the ancient sword of the High King, last wielded by King Arthur himself.”

Those near him nodded their heads and repeated the news to their neighbor who might not have heard what Taliesin had said. The information passed among the crowd; just as Cade reached the front of the room, someone shouted, “Cadwaladr!” In a heartbeat the room went from solemnity to chaos, with shouts, clapping, and amazingly to Rhiann, laughter—laughter that actually signified joy and not derision. When had that emotion ever been felt in this hall? Not since the time of Cadwallon, before Rhiann herself was born.

Cade turned to face the crowd, still holding his sword in his hand. Gradually the room quieted. Cade relaxed and rested Caledfwlch on his right shoulder. When the last of his men had filed into the room, Cade nodded at Taliesin. Taliesin tapped his way forward, leaning more than he needed to on his staff, loving the drama of the occasion and undoubtedly playing it up because he could.

The eyes of everyone in the hall were on him now. Taliesin stopped in the center of the cleared space between the tables and flung out his arms. Rhiann expected poetry, but his words were nothing out of the ordinary, although they made all the difference in the world: “I present to you Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon, the Pendragon,” he said, and gestured towards Cade at the front of the room, “King of Gwynedd.”

As the words rolled out of him, they seemed to take tangible shape in the air, and Taliesin himself appeared to loom up to the ceiling, much as he had that first night at Dinas Emrys. Then he began to chant:

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“THERE WAS A TIME WHEN the people of Cymry,

Possessed wealth and peace before their sovereign king.

The people of Cymry

Found tranquility at his table.

But what is this?

Commotion in every land; a wasteland of desolate years.

The ambitious man raises his head,

The jealous man rises from his knees,

The righteous man lifts his hands in prayer,

Begging for deliverance.

The Cymry lost their bounty,

Choosing alliance with their enemies.

Who laid waste to our lands,

Demanding our pledge in trade for peace.

But see who rides forth, no longer hiding,

The dragon banner raised high,

Submitting to no one:

No foreign king, no Saxon, no creature from the depths of Annwn.

See his men: Rhun, Bedwyr, Hywel, Dafydd, Goronwy.

Riding out of tales from another age,

Strapping their swords to their waists,

Setting their pikes in their rests,

Spurring forward,

Protectors of a ravaged country.

The land will be red with battle and strife.

None will stand against him.

All will fall to their knees before him.

The Cymry will rise,

When Cadwaladr comes.”

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THE GATHERING PAUSED as the song ended, and then it was as if everyone let out a deep sigh. Cade’s eyes twinkled and Rhiann realized that he and Taliesin had cooked this up together. Alcfrith still stood next to Rhiann, watching Cade, tears streaming steadily down her face, although she didn’t sob or cry and her eyes weren’t reddened. Cade brought his sword forward again and then sheathed it.

Taking it as a signal for action, the men around the room filed towards Cade, who stood, feet spread, hands resting gently at his sides. Rhiann had seen this ceremony many times in her life, most recently for Rhun at Bryn y Castell. The men were to swear their allegiance to their lord.

“I don’t have a crown for him,” Alcfrith said. “I couldn’t find it after Cadfael left.”

“He took it with him,” Rhiann said. “He was wearing it when he died.”

Alcfrith turned to her. The tears had stopped and her eyes were clear. “You saw him die?”

“No,” Rhiann said. “But I saw him afterwards.”

Alcfrith studied her. “I cannot mourn him. I don’t know that I can forgive him.”

“I know,” Rhiann said, and then added, “Cade didn’t want to wear Cadfael’s crown anyway, even if it had once been his father’s. Taliesin told him that Caledfwlch would be more than enough.”

“It is,” Alcfrith said.

Owain of Rhos, Cadfael’s nephew who might himself have claimed the throne, was the first of the lords to bow to Cade. His sons and the lesser lords of his domains followed him. Tudur of Meirionydd and his sons and under lords were next and then the entire garrison of Aberffraw. All told, close to fifty men pledged their allegiance to Cade. Missing, of course, were Iaen of Caer Dathyl and his sons, with the exception of Siawn who took his place in line. When he reached Cade, the two men clasped arms. When they defeated Teregad, perhaps Siawn would be the next king of Caer Dathyl.

After every man had sworn their allegiance and found his seat, Cade walked towards Alcfrith and Rhiann. He held out an elbow to each of them, which they took, and then walked up the hall to find seats on either side of him at the high table. They sat, but Taliesin continued to stand. He’d moved aside to allow the men to greet Cade, but now placed himself in the center of the hall again, waiting for it to quiet.

“I, Taliesin, tell this story,” he said in his singing voice. “All who have ears, listen well and understand. Twenty years ago, Cadwallon ap Cadfan was felled by his own vassal in a field plowed by a Saxon, far from his mountains; far from his wife and son. At Cadwallon’s death, the Dragon of Wales soared in the sky.”

Cade reached for his mother’s hand. He held it, without looking at her or speaking.

“The bards disagreed among themselves. They did not know if the portents were for the new dragon, just an infant in Gwynedd, or a sign of mourning for his father. The boy’s mother took no chances. She gave her son, Cadwaladr, to me, to be raised in safety, far from his home and these rich lands.” The silence in the room was absolute. Nobody dared question his story, or how this young man in his middle twenties could be the Taliesin who had lived all those years ago.

Taliesin continued. “The boy grew, as boys do. After Cadwaladr took Dinas Emrys from him, Cadfael asked him to come to Aberffraw, to stand at his side as the heir to Gwynedd. Cadwaladr rode to Anglesey with his foster-father, Cynyr of Bryn y Castell, for that purpose. Instead of welcoming Cadwaladr as he had promised, Cadfael saw to the deaths of all of Cadwaladr’s companions, the deed perpetrated by many of the men who are here today.” With that, Taliesin glared around the room. When his gaze fell upon each of the accused, the man cowered under the force of it.

“Cadfael spared Cadwaladr for a day, imprisoning him in this very fort. What Cadfael didn’t know was that he’d raised a warrior in his own household who would not countenance Cadwaladr’s death.” Taliesin half-turned his body and winked at Rhiann. “Rhiannon freed Cadwaladr. Since then, Cadwaladr has defeated a Saxon invasion at Llanllugan, and he ...” Taliesin hesitated. Everyone leaned forward, not wanting to miss what came next. “When Teregad, son of King Iaen of Caer Dathyl, thought to imprison Cadwaladr in Caer Ddu, with the help of his companions, Cadwaladr drew Caledfwlch from a stone and escaped.”

“Now, he faces a far greater threat than just Cadfael, or Teregad. Arawn himself threatens our world. His son, Mabon, was also at Caer Ddu. He seeks to release the creatures of the Underworld. We believe that the black cauldron lies underneath Caer Dathyl. In two days’ time, Cadwaladr will travel there to force Arawn to close it.”

At this, the hall exploded in an uproar, with men shouting both their support of Cade and disbelief of Taliesin’s words. Cade let the hubbub reign free so that men could release their surprise and anger. Then, he stood. Instantly the room calmed. When he held up his hand, it silenced.

“Thank you for your attention today,” he said. “It warms my heart to be welcomed in this hall, given what happened here just a short time ago.”

Owain of Rhos got to his feet. His face was red. “Why should we believe this man?” He indicated Taliesin. “He is not Christian.”

“But I am,” Cade said. “And I tell you it is so.”

Owain’s face reddened further.

Siawn rose to his feet. He still wore his priest’s robes. “I must tell you that Taliesin speaks only the truth,” he said. “At Caer Ddu, I shared a prison cell with King Cadwaladr. Mabon and my brother, Teregad, killed Cadfael in front of me. They beat another of my brothers, Crawdawg, so severely that he died.”

“When I met Mabon in his hall,” Cade said, “he spoke to me beneath the tortured body of Cadfael. He had hung him on the wall above his mantle, as decoration.”

Once again, men rose to their feet, expressing outrage—and fear. One man, who was obviously still catching up, asked his neighbor, “Cadfael killed Cynyr of Bryn y Castell?”

“Yes,” the other man said.

“He was a good man,” the first man replied.

Rhiann knew it wasn’t her place to talk in this gathering of men, but she couldn’t remain silent. She stood, and the abruptness of her movement startled the company into silence. “Cynyr was a good man.” Cade looked up at her, but didn’t try to stop her from speaking. She pushed back from the table and walked around it to stand beside Taliesin. “You might remember me. I cowered in the corner of this hall for most of my life.”

“Lady Rhiannon, there is no need,” Owain of Rhos said, but Rhiann put out a hand to stay him.

“My father had a cold heart,” Rhiann said. “He loved no one but his own self and his ambition. He killed Cynyr and his men. He would have killed Cade if I hadn’t freed him. I’m sorry about burning the stables.” Rhiann smiled, ruefully, to scattered chuckling.

Llywelyn, the garrison captain, spoke. “No one was injured, my lady. Those stables were an eyesore anyway.” A few more men laughed at that.

“Cadfael leagued with Teregad of Caer Dathyl,” Rhiann said, as the company sobered again. “Teregad confessed to murdering his own father, Lord Iaen, and taking the throne of Caer Dathyl over his dead body.”

There were more shouts at that news. Although Iaen had been dead a month, his death had been accepted as from natural causes. “I do not know if my father knew that Arawn, at the behest of his son, Mabon, was releasing demons from the Underworld on our people. I do not know if Cadfael repented in the last moments of his life. Lord Siawn assures me that he did not die unshriven.”

Rhiann glanced over at Siawn, who nodded.

“My father’s sins are now the province of God,” Rhiann said, “but it is we who must deal with their aftermath. I have ridden with Cadwaladr. I took my bow to Llanllugan and fought to defend a hundred villagers from Saxon invaders and their demon allies that Arawn has unleashed on Wales. If, I, the bastard daughter of an upstart king, can do this, I do not think it too much to ask the same of you.”

At that, Cade stood. “Lady Rhiannon speaks eloquently of the task before us. But given the nature of the threat, I cannot order you to come with me.”

The expressions of dismay Rhiann’s speech had engendered died down, and Cade continued. “I can ask you to come with me, however. I will face Arawn, with or without you. Death came for Cadfael, in a most hideous fashion, perpetrated by beings so steeped in their own desires that all light has surely been stripped from their souls. Death came for Cadfael, and it will come for each one of us. If I am to die at Arawn’s hand, I would rather it was on my terms, and not his.”

“I will come,” Tudur said, standing.

Cade bent his head in acknowledgement. “I will be proud to fight beside you.”

But Tudur was the only one.

Chapter Two

Cade

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THE RAIN FELL STEADILY, soaking Cade from head to foot. It was hardly unexpected, since it rained nearly every day in Wales in March. If Cade had been human, he would have been cold, but as it was, it merely made the bow slide in his hand and his fingers stiff. He’d pulled the hood up to shield his eyes from the drops, but had thrown the bulk of the cloak off his arms to leave them free to shoot. It didn’t seem to be doing him any good, however. For a man who prided himself on accuracy, Cade was remarkably inept today. But then, he had Rhiann beside him.

She was back in her breeches and they were shooting at the targets on the far side of the archery range. Rhiann thought it a good test of her skill to practice under these conditions, as they were not dissimilar to the circumstances under which she had fought at Llanllugan. It had been night then, and very dark, which would have been better for Cade. As it was, the rain was the only reason he was able to be with her now. For that opportunity, he was willing to put up with unpleasant weather.

“Where’s Dafydd?” Cade said. “Didn’t he want to shoot with you?” He glanced at her, gauging her level of concentration, and wondered if the topic would rattle her.

Rhiann sighted down an arrow and released it. It hit the target dead center. “He said that he’d be along later.”

“Dafydd’s a fine knight,” Cade said, hating every moment of this discussion and cursing that he’d even brought Dafydd up.

Rhiann shot another arrow and it hit the target, her sixth perfect shot. “He’s very sweet.” She lowered her bow and turned to look at Cade. “He’s scared, though, Cade. All the men are, even if they won’t admit it.”

Cade was anything but sweet and he knew it. He pressed another arrow into his bow and loosed it, finding Rhiann’s beauty and frankness unbearable, now that the truth had come out. “They have every right to be scared. I’m scared, but I have no choice but to fight.”

“You perceive that you have no choice. Because of who you are, you would not feel yourself a man if you didn’t counter Arawn.”

Cade gave up shooting as another of his arrows flew three feet above the target he was aiming at and thunked into a tree behind it. He turned to Rhiann. He’d not called her cariad again and had endeavored never to be alone with her, now that she spent so much time with Dafydd. It was she who’d asked if he would shoot with her today.

He had called her friend, however, and for the first time since she’d seen him kill that first Saxon archer, he truly felt easy in her presence. Cade had accepted that he loved her but couldn’t have her. Perhaps she’d asked him to shoot with her as a way of letting him know that her revulsion at what he was had lessened; that she could still be his friend, even if he wasn’t human.

“Allegiance means that you will put your sword where your lord tells you,” Cade said.

“Then you shouldn’t have told the other lords that they didn’t have to come,” Rhiann said, very reasonably.

Except that it wasn’t reasonable. “Rhun agrees that it won’t be possible to take Caer Dathyl with only fifty men. Not even with 150 soldiers could we besiege the fort. We need more men.”

“Is its position really so difficult? Aberffraw is not so impenetrable, nor Bryn y Castell,” Rhiann said.

“It is,” Cade said.

“I would say so as well.”

Rhiann and Cade turned in unison at Dafydd’s voice. He and Hywel strode down the trail from Aberffraw, with Taliesin not far behind. At the sight of them, Rhiann smiled. She turned to Cade, apologetically. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Cade watched her leave, noting that she and Dafydd touched hands as she passed him. Friends. We’re friends. That’s all.

Dafydd took up the position where Rhiann had stood and shot an arrow, hitting the target dead center. Cade studied it without seeing it, trying not to hate Dafydd and instead think of Caer Dathyl and all that he knew of it.

“If we can’t take it by force,” Hywel said, “we’ll have to find another way.”

“I’ve always liked deception,” Taliesin said. “It suits my sense of adventure.”

Cade turned to Taliesin as he took the last few paces towards him, his cloak dragging in the mud as he navigated a puddle. “Perhaps to the point of knocking on the front door.”

Cade choked on laughter at that. The idea was outrageous. He could just see it—the ten companions strolling up to the gatehouse and asking for admission. Then again ... perhaps there was an answer there.

Cade allowed Hywel to take his place at the archery range and moved beside Taliesin, out of earshot of the two young men. Taliesin put a hand on Cade’s arm and Cade leaned closer to hear him better.

“There is only one way to stop Arawn, you know,” Taliesin said.

“Kill him?” Cade said.

Taliesin smiled a sad sort of smile. “One can’t kill a god. For all that you have the power of the sidhe, they are not as you are.”

Cade didn’t reply. Instead, he studied the bow in his hand and rubbed the carvings along the wood with one finger. Taliesin, meanwhile, maintained his smile while watching the water drip from the leaves above him into a puddle in the middle of the trail.

“I was afraid of that,” Cade said, eventually.

“Even worse,” Taliesin said, “it is beyond any man’s ability to harm a god. No man can even lay a hand on Arawn without dying himself.”

Cade looked up. “Or woman?”

“Of course, ‘woman,’” Taliesin said. “Did you think to ask Rhiann to try?”

“No, no.” Cade shook his head. “I was just making sure. So what can we do to stop him?”

“Banish him to the Underworld through the cauldron itself.”

“Though we can’t kill him or touch him, and have no sure way to get him in there unless he climbs in himself,” Cade said. “We could always set Dafydd on him to talk him to death.”

“You are flippant,” Taliesin said.

“You tell me that no man can harm Arawn,” Cade said, “and for some reason that amuses me. As we know, I am not a man, but even with that knowledge, we are still guessing.”

“I am confident we will come up with something,” Taliesin said. “This journey with you has been long and strange, and not without its surprises. I suspect the gods have more in store for us than we can guess.”

“If you can’t discover a way,” Cade said, “I don’t fear death. It has already come and gone for me, and every day I walk the earth is something of a gift.”

“And what about Rhiann?” Taliesin said. “I know you have feelings for her.”

That stopped Cade. “That’s not fair. You know I cannot act on them, and you know I must try to stop Arawn. I have no choice.”

“I know it,” Taliesin said.

* * * * *

CADE WALKED INTO THE great hall, shedding water along with his cloak as he went and made his way to where his mother sat breakfasting. She made to rise as Cade came closer, but he urged her to sit.

“I didn’t think I’d find you here,” Cade said. “I expected you to take your morning meal in your solar.”

“I have taken it there for nearly twenty years,” she said. “I’m tired of that room.”

Cade pulled out the chair next to her and sat in it. He couldn’t help but feel uncertain about her, but knew she was telling him something, perhaps the same thing of which Rhiann had spoken when she asked him not to return her to Aberffraw or leave her at Bryn y Castell. To both of them, the forts had become prisons. His mother, like Rhiann, only wanted a chance to walk in the light.

“Anything you need, Mother,” Cade said. “Tell me and I will grant it.”

“But that’s the problem,” Alcfrith said. “I don’t want you to grant me anything.” She looked down at her hands, which were folded in her lap, and picked at a loose thread in her dress. “When have I ever done something for myself? I went from my father’s house to Cadwallon’s, and then to Cadfael’s.”

“That is the usual way, Mother,” Cade said.

She looked into Cade’s face. “Not for you. Why, then, for me?”

“You were born a princess,” Cade said.

“And as a woman, I was a commodity to be bartered away for the right price. My father gave me to Cadwallon before I’d even met him, and then the Council sold me to Cadfael in exchange for peace. The only say I had in the matter was whether or not I’d keep you with me.”

“I know why you sent me away,” Cade said. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Or would the right thing have been to refuse them?” she said. “I could have taken you away, perhaps to Cornwall or Brittany and raised you myself.”

“But then I would not have been of the Cymry,” Cade said.

“And that is why I didn’t,” Alcfrith said. “And that makes me sound far more noble than I was, because what really happened was that I was twenty years old, alone, and scared.”

“Rhiann is twenty,” Cade said. “I can see you in her.”

“Except Rhiann took the reins of destiny in her hands and held on as tightly as she could,” Alcfrith said. “She fought for what she needed, where I lay down in the path and let others tread on me.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” Cade said.

“I’ve not been hard enough,” Alcfrith said.

“It must have been very lonely,” Cade said, trying to find something to say that would ease her suffering and self-recrimination.

“It was,” she said, “and much of that is my fault, not Cadfael’s. I could have cared for Rhiann, but I hid myself away in my misery, and never learned to take what chance at life I could. She is full of life, our Rhiann. It’s a miracle she’s as whole as she is. When do you plan to marry her?”

Cade gaped at Alcfrith. “I ... I can’t marry her, Mother.”

“Of course you can.”

“She wouldn’t have me anyway.”

“Why on earth not?” she said.

“Rhiann made it clear just now where her heart lies,” Cade said. “She’s in love with Dafydd.”

Alcfrith’s eyes narrowed. “The boy? I find that difficult to believe. You must have misunderstood, or perhaps Rhiann feels herself unworthy of you. I have never seen a girl as much in love with anyone as Rhiann is with you.”

Cade felt his head spinning and if he’d had a breath it would have caught in his throat. Could it be true?

Alcfrith patted Cade’s hand. “It will work itself out.” She studied her own hands and then looked up at him. “What are your plans for Wales?”

Cade smiled, a little rueful. “I’ve given this more thought than perhaps I ought to have, but the legacy of the Pendragons is not one that I can forego. I don’t know if the kings of Wales will accept me, but I will not just be the King of Gwynedd. I am the rightful High King, and I intend to rule as one, from the seat of my father, and of the ancient kings at Dinas Bran.”

“The lords here accepted you,” she said. “They swore their allegiance and bowed before you. The other kings of Wales will follow suit.”

“I don’t know that, Mother,” Cade said. “Even the lords of Gwynedd don’t truly trust me, not yet.”

“You truly are Arthur returned to us,” Alcfrith said. “They will follow you.”

Cade shook his head, not necessarily disagreeing, but not able to agree. “They give me their allegiance because I carry Caledfwlch. They accept my claim to the throne of Gwynedd because of my father, and because I took Dinas Emrys from Cadfael. Since Cadwallon died, however, we have all lived without a High King. The other kings will wonder why they need one now.”

“To hold the Saxons at bay,” Alcfrith said. “To fight against the creatures of the Underworld who ally themselves with our enemies.”

“Yes,” Cade said. “But it’s not only the other kings who do not know if I am worthy. I have to ask that of myself as well. Especially—” Cade stopped, realizing he couldn’t tell her how Arianrhod had changed him. Not now; maybe not ever.

“Especially, what?” she said.

“Especially because of who my father was,” Cade said. “It’s not enough to be Cadwallon’s son or Cynyr’s son. I have to be Cadwaladr. I have to rule as King in my own right.”

And maybe then, I’ll know if what my mother says is true. Maybe then I’ll have the courage to tell Rhiann that she has my heart.

Chapter Three

Rhiann

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RHIANN DIDN’T LIKE boats. The bards sang of the Welsh being caught between the mountains and the sea, and despite having lived near the sea her entire life, there was no doubt that it was the mountains she preferred. That the sea was growing rougher did nothing to help.

Cade, Rhun, and Taliesin had decided, in the end, to sail to Caer Dathyl, just the nine companions: Cade, Taliesin, Rhun, Goronwy, Dafydd, Hywel, Bedwyr, Siawn, and Rhiann. The rest, led by Geraint and Tudur, had left from Aberffraw the day before, riding to a camp just north of Caer Dathyl. Cade deemed it his job—and by extension theirs—to enter Caer Dathyl, determine what was happening there, and open the fort from the inside so that the rest of the army could enter it. If they could even go so far as to trick Teregad into doing it himself, they would. Cade was looking to improvise.

Siawn was a last addition. He had insisted on it. “Gwyn is my cousin too,” he’d said, “and Teregad my brother. I know I am no soldier, but I’m coming with you even if I have to hide in the hold.”

“You’ll give us away at Caer Dathyl,” Cade had said. “Everyone knows you.”

“They do,” Siawn said, “but I’m not so sure they’d betray me. I’m a younger son and a priest. I was never a threat to anyone, nor did I lord over the populace and call attention to my princely status. Because of me, the people may welcome us, perhaps even hide us.”

“It might be a chance worth taking,” Rhun said. Perhaps because Rhun, of all people, supported the idea, Cade had let Siawn come.

“At worst,” Siawn had added. “I can lead you safely there.”

It was a day’s sail, no more than fifteen miles from Aberffraw, even hugging the coast, but both Cade and Taliesin were grimly pessimistic about whether or not the companions would even make it. Within an hour of boarding the boat, a fierce wind had blown up. Now, Rhiann huddled in a corner, jostled every now and then by Dafydd who knelt next to her, hanging his head over the side of the boat and heaving up his insides.

Up and down the boat rocked. Increasingly, at every downward rush, a chasm opened before the prow of the boat, and then it would fight its way up through the spray only to fall again. As the weather worsened, the friends huddled together, either in the single cabin or on the main deck.

“By all the Saints who ever lived,” Dafydd said, “why did God create boats?”

“I don’t think that was God.” Rhiann stood up, making sure to stand on the windward side of him. Spray from the sea flew into her face, spotting her cloak and dress. Since sneaking around was the order of the day, Cade had dressed Rhiann as a peasant girl so, as he’d said, she’d be less easily noticeable. He had laughed as he’d said it, implying, as unlikely as it seemed, that it was a lost cause.

“Then why didn’t the first one sink, so we’d never think to try again?” Dafydd moaned and laid his cheek on the side of the boat’s rail. “I’ve been here before, you know. My boat from Ynys Manaw was wrecked right here. What was I thinking that I thought to try again?”

Rhiann patted him on the back making ‘there, there’ noises.

Dafydd opened his eyes. “I need to ask you something.”

Rhiann looked down at Dafydd, conscious that his tone had changed to one far more intent and serious. “What is it?”

“Why do you stay with me?”

“I’ve cared for sick men before, Dafydd. It doesn’t bother me.”

Dafydd shook his head. “I don’t mean that. Why aren’t you with Lord Cadwaladr?”

Rhiann gawked at him. “Wh—wh—what do you mean?”

Dafydd straightened his head so he was no longer looking at her sideways. He turned towards her, shifting onto one knee, and took her hand. “I love you, Rhiann. Desperately and completely. I would gladly keep you with me always. Do you love me?”

Oh no! How could I have been so blind? “I do love you, Dafydd.” Rhiann dropped to her knees in front of him. “But not that way. I—I can’t love you that way.”

Dafydd nodded. “You love me as a friend, while King Cadwaladr ...” He paused as they both looked to where Cade stood near the prow of the boat.

“I do like you very much. I do like spending time with you and that was all I thought it. I would never want to hurt you.”

“But you love him,” Dafydd said. There was a finality in his voice.

Rhiann swallowed hard. “I know he’s a sidhe. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me with him, and I’ve tried to respect that. I know that it’s crazy to think ...”

“It’s not crazy,” Dafydd said. “If Cadwaladr sent you away it was because he was trying to protect you from himself. Anyone can see how he feels about you. By now, however, he probably thinks that you love me instead of him. I can’t say the thought saddens me at all.” His last words were fierce.

Rhiann recalled Cade’s questions about Dafydd from the day before. What a fool I’ve been! She rested her forehead on the rail, as Dafydd had done, unsure of what to do next. She glanced over at Cade whose face was still turned away, focused on the weather and the gods. Can it be true? Dafydd is too young to know such things, isn’t he?

Dafydd smiled, despite his sickness and what the effort cost him. “Go. See to your lord.”

“Dafydd—” She shook her head in denial, desperately wanting what he said to be true but unable to believe it.

“Go,” he repeated.

Rhiann got to her feet. Then, with one last look at Dafydd’s white face, Rhiann went. She fought her way to the front of the boat where Cade had planted himself, holding onto the tail of Taliesin’s cloak to steady him. Taliesin stood, his arms spread wide, exhorting the clouds, which took that moment to defy him and release their rain.

The drops began to fall, soon soaking the boat in an unrelenting downpour. Seeing her beside him, Cade reached out with his free arm to grab Rhiann and pull her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, her heart beating wildly.

“We should return to shore!” Goronwy said from his post against the mast.

“No!” Taliesin shook his head to give his words the proper emphasis. “That is what Arawn wants.”

“This is Arawn’s doing?” Cade tipped his head upwards. Rhiann followed suit, looking as he did for a face distinguishable within the clouds.

“Arawn is behaving exactly as we hoped,” Taliesin said. “He’s ignoring Tudur and Geraint in favor of pursuing us. Are we not sailing because we feared his minions would stop us between Aberffraw and Caer Dathyl? He wants us on shore to meet them! Not out here on the water where we’re safe.”

“Safe to you isn’t exactly the same as to the rest of us,” Goronwy said.

“So now we’ll simply drown,” Rhun said, “and relieve him of his problem!”

“We must pray!” Siawn dropped to his knees beside Taliesin. They made an odd pair, Taliesin standing, chanting his exhortations in a language Rhiann didn’t understand, and Siawn kneeling, his hands clasped before his face, the thin, knotted rope with which he counted his prayers peeking through his fingers.

“It can’t be Arawn,” Cade said.

“Why not?” Rhiann said.

“He’s the Lord of the Underworld, not the sea,” he said.

“Well then maybe he’s gotten his friend, Llyr, the god of the sea and Father of Darkness to help him,” Rhiann said.

Cade glanced at her face. “That is a daunting thought.”

“Get back! Blast you! Do you want to end up with the fishes?” A new voice shouted from behind them. “Sire! You and the lady should not risk yourselves.”

Cade and Rhiann turned as the captain of the boat, an ancient fellow named Dai, rolled toward them on legs long used to this kind of weather. With a hand on each of their shoulders, he hauled them backwards, away from the prow of the boat and toward the open cabin. As the deck of the boat rose again in front of them, they fell into it.

“Such idiocy!” Dai said. The boat crested the wave and he staggered back to the rudder. Rhiann heard him yelling at Taliesin and Siawn, who finally obeyed him and gave up their vigil.

Rhiann lay on her stomach on the floor. Cade had rolled onto his back a few feet away. She pressed her face to the cool boards, and after a breath or two, began to laugh. Soon Cade chuckled beside her, and it was a relief to share the dark humor inherent in their peril.

“I am not a good sailor,” Rhiann said.

“I gather from our Captain’s comments that he doesn’t think much of me, either,” Cade said.

Rhiann laughed again but then was forced to curl up in a ball on the floor as the boat rose and fell, rose and fell, and the rain pounded on the roof. She lay there for a while, listening to the storm. Cade had his eyes closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. He never slept. She didn’t know how to begin to talk to him again; to cross the space between them, but she was willing to try if he was.

As it turned out, it was Cade who began. “You must understand, Rhiann, that I am a man out of legend, with neither soul nor substance. Sometimes I feel that I don’t really exist.”

“You do.” Rhiann reached out a hand to him, and then pulled it back, thinking better of it, not sure if she dared go that far. He was so resistant to human contact, even if he’d held her only a moment ago.

“Before I went to Aberffraw to greet your father,” Cade said, “I went to Din-Arth, the seat of Owain of Rhos. In the hall, I met an Irish trader.” Cade opened one eye to look at Rhiann and she gave him a half-smile in acknowledgement of the rarity of that: the Irish had raided the Welsh coast for the same number of years the Saxons had besieged the country from the east, but here was an Irishman who sought to trade. “He spent the evening telling stories to all who would listen.” Cade stopped.

“Go on,” Rhiann said.

“He mostly spoke of the sidhe faeries, beautiful young maidens endowed with the power of song and gifted with enchanting wiles.”

“We all know these stories. Every Welsh child is teethed on them. It’s why your men have accepted you. We’ve all heard them; dreamt them.”

Cade shook his head. “You haven’t heard about me, though, have you? Our tales don’t tell the whole story. I don’t know if we’ve forgotten, or never learned the truth. The Irishman explained that under the influence of such a sidhe, a man may commit any and every crime at her command. Then, when his soul is utterly black, the maiden carries her servant to the Underworld. He remains there forever, tortured by the same faery to whom he sold himself, now revealed in her true, hideous form.”

“Cade—” Rhiann began.

“One of the sidhe of whom the Irishman spoke stores the souls of the men she subdues in her cauldron, Rhiann,” Cade said.

His words chilled Rhiann far more than the wet and the rain.

“We seek Arawn,” Cade said. “We hope to close the black cauldron, but if I live to peer into it, what will I find?”

“You cannot lose hope,” Rhiann said. “Arianrhod left you alive, unlike the men in the tales. These are just stories with which to frighten a wide-eyed child on a winter night.”

“They were,” Cade said. “They were until now; until a man who lives them walked out of the myth and into the world.” Cade turned to look at Rhiann and she met his eyes. She couldn’t read the thoughts behind them, but she didn’t need to, as he spoke them. “I would give anything not to be this way, Rhiann.”

I wish you weren’t this way either. But she didn’t say it.

* * * * *

IF ANYTHING, THE STORM worsened in the next hours. Cade ordered each man to tie himself to the rail, while he and Rhiann were contained by a thick rope tied to an iron ring, screwed into the deck just for this purpose. They hung on for dear life.

“What is the good of being immortal if whenever the skills are needed, I’m as weak as a babe?” Cade said, at one point.

“The sun will go down,” Rhiann said. “You are nearly as strong as a normal human during the day; perhaps it’s just that you are so used to how you feel at night, it’s the contrast that is so startling, not your actual weakness.”

Cade smiled and then went so far as to laugh into his sleeve. “Even in the worst hours, you find a bright moment. I need that.”

Rhiann wanted to tell him that she needed him, but the boat tipped up just then. They were turned practically upside down as the prow rose to the crest of a wave. A rush of water coursed down the deck and swamped them. They both pushed up onto their elbows, coughing.

“Did I ever tell you about the time when Rhun and I were nine and he tried to go over the waterfall near Bryn y Castell in a bucket?” Cade said.

“No,” Rhiann said. “What happened?”

“You certainly aren’t going to tell her now.” Rhun appeared in the doorway, clutching the frame to keep from falling.

Cade smirked. “I saved Rhun’s life.” Cade then proceeded to show a side of him Rhiann hadn’t seen before, telling her story after story about his adventures with Rhun. Meanwhile, Rhun lay flat on the deck beside them, growling occasionally in feigned disagreement. It was Rhun who’d been the more mischievous of the two of them as a boy, always getting Cade into trouble, from which Cade then had to get them out.

In the midst of one particularly hilarious tale involving a fish, a broom, and their mother’s petticoat, Dai reappeared, although as he did so, the wind ripped the hat off his head, despite the ties around his chin, and flung it over the sea.

He cursed, and then laughed. “Makes a man happy to be alive, does it not?” He clung to the empty doorframe; then gave Rhiann a wicked grin and disappeared back into the storm.

“Men like him are drawn to the sea and are never happy when they are away from her,” Rhun intoned from his prone position on the floor. “I, myself, will never set foot on a boat again.”

But then Dai returned, this time not looking so cheerful. He ran to Cade and started working at the now sodden ropes that bound him to the floor.

“My lord. You and your men must leave the ship. We’re being pulled further out to sea and if you don’t leave now, it may be days before you reach the shore, if at all. The waves are too treacherous and I fear my ship will break up.”

“Days?” Rhiann said. “Are we to swim the distance, then?”

Dai moved to her side and began to fight with the ropes that tied her to the boat. The iron circle was the only thing that had kept her from sliding from one wall to the other as the ship rose and fell and she held onto it with both hands. “We will launch the dinghy. I’m afraid you’ll have to see your own way to shore.”

Rhiann stared at him in disbelief. “And what of you?”

Dai glanced at Rhiann and then looked away. “I will try to run out the storm. I will not abandon my ship unless death is the only other choice.” Dai caught Cade’s arm to stop him sliding down the deck. “I will not be responsible for the loss of you as well as my crew. To take the dinghy in to shore gives you the best chance of survival. I cannot offer you that on board my boat. Now, let’s go!”

Dai grasped Rhiann under the arm and hauled her to her feet while Cade and Rhun staggered together out of the cabin and across the deck. Instantly, a mixture of rain and sea water doused them. Rhiann watched in terror as another giant wave rose up and crashed over them. Rhiann herself lost her footing and would have been washed to the side of the boat and swept with the water overboard had not the iron grip of the captain kept her upright.

Dai tossed Rhiann into the dinghy and she fell forward, sprawled across Dafydd’s lap. He grasped her forearms and righted her, his face red from embarrassment. Rhiann also read concern in his eyes, and perhaps fear. She hadn’t spoken to him since their earlier conversation. When Cade climbed in beside her, she sat between them. If they all hadn’t been about to drown, it would have been awkward. When the next wave rose under the boat, Rhun cut it loose. Within a count of five, the dinghy had pulled away from the ship and the dark and rain obscured it from view.

The captain was right, for the most part, about the higher security in the smaller boat. With only the nine companions, rowing and resting in conjunction with the waves and with minimal hull and no cargo, the boat bobbed and floated on the top of the waves, riding them like a toy boat in a tub rocked by an energetic toddler. The companions were drenched and scared, but as the boat survived wave after wave without capsizing, Rhiann was gradually numbed into the belief that they were not actually going to die just yet.

She couldn’t see land. As the men with their oars fought on, Rhiann prayed that they knew where they were going. Back at Aberffraw, Cade had sketched a rough map of the coastline of the Llyn Peninsula. It seemed to Rhiann it would be easy to get thrown back towards Ireland, or worse, blown in circles until they died from dehydration.

Rhiann gripped the seat of the dinghy tightly.

“We’ll make it,” Dafydd said.

“I wouldn’t count on making it in the boat, however.” Cade unbuckled Caledfwlch. “Give me your swords.” Reluctance showed on each man’s face as he handed Cade his most prized possession. Cade stacked the six weapons in a bundle and belted them together, before slinging them over his shoulder with his own belt strap.

“If we go in, my lord, that will be too heavy for you to carry,” Siawn said. “You’ll drown.”

“Unlikely,” Rhun said.

With Cade’s action, whatever hope Rhiann had of surviving the day ebbed further. At last, however, the sky began to lighten at the bottom of the clouds and the clear outline of land appeared in front of them. With that first glimpse, the sea finally deemed she’d had enough. She reached under the boat and threw it forward, sending it with a mighty push towards land, but capsizing it in the process.

In an instant, Rhiann went from numbing cold to biting cold and her already sluggish brain grasped that they had very little time to reach shore if any of them were going to live. Desperate now that death was so near, she bobbed up for air. She took a deep breath, and then coughed, struggling against the sea.

“Don’t fight it! Let it lift you!” Cade still held the bundle of swords over his shoulder. With one powerful crawl he was beside her.

“I’m glad you can swim!” she said, shouting above the pounding of the surf and the rain. Rhiann struggled out of her cloak and shoved it away, just as Cade reached out and caught an oar that floated past.

“Rhiann!” The sea thundered in her ears, almost drowning out his words. “Stay with me!”

He took one of her frozen hands and put it on the oar and used the other to tread water. He then shot himself up and out of the water with a powerful kick in order to see around them. “The tide must be coming in. The waves are pushing us towards land.”

“Thank the Lord,” Rhiann said. “I was afraid we hadn’t a hope of reaching it.”

“Have you the strength to swim, Rhiann?” Cade said.

“And the alternative would be what?”

“Dying,” he said. Together, each with one hand on the oar, they stroked and kicked with the waves in the direction of the beach.

“Do you see anyone else?” Rhiann feared that none of their other companions could swim.

“Goronwy and Rhun are over to our left,” Cade said. “I saw their heads.”

“And the others?” Rhiann tried to push up above the wave to see better, but ended up swamping her nose and mouth instead.

“I don’t know,” Cade said. “Don’t worry about Dafydd, Rhiann. He’ll be all right. Save your energy for swimming.”

Rhiann let his words sink in and then took the plunge. “I’m not in love with Dafydd, Cade.”

“What did you say?”

He’d shouted the words at her and she realized that he hadn’t been able to hear what she’d said above the howling wind and spray. She just shook her head, letting the moment go and Cade didn’t ask her to repeat it.

From their experience at the Menai Strait, it had taken a quarter of an hour to swim the two hundred yards in a heavy current. Cade and Rhiann were less than half a mile from the shore, and it took them twice that, at least. The sea itself aided them in the end, pushing them forward, and eventually they found themselves crawling through the surf on their knees. Sobbing with relief, Rhiann collapsed on the sandy beach.

Chapter Four

Cade

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THE SLIVER OF MOON shone down on Cade, white against a pale blue sky. The wind had blown the clouds directly above him away, although more hovered on the horizon. The sun had already descended into the mist to the west and as his strength returned, Cade sensed it would soon set altogether. Better for me; not so for the rest.

Cade licked his lips, tasting the salt from the sea. It reminded him again of Arianrhod’s kiss. The salt lingered on his face as well. The water had soaked him, of course, but as he’d labored over the last hour, it had dried and left him with the familiar, sticky feeling any routine dip in the ocean might have given him, even if they’d been fighting for their lives. Except, he, alone of his companions, would have survived. Eventually, the sea would have given him up, no matter what happened to his friends.

The surf had calmed considerably, no longer crashing against the beach, but creeping in and out as if there’d never been a storm. Around Cade, refuse littered the beach, thrown up by the surf. It was mostly driftwood and seaweed but here and there lay a wine cask or some pottery shards. Cade lifted Rhiann in his arms, feeling a moment of satisfaction as the power within him remained dormant and controlled, thanks to the comforting weight of Caledfwlch which he’d returned to his waist. He carried her to where he’d built a fire in a sheltered spot in the dry sands near the bottom of a cliff. She still slept deeply, her hair covered with sand and her wet clothes destroyed by the salt.

“I’m not in love with Dafydd, Cade.”

In truth, Cade had heard her. His hearing was excellent. But he’d been so surprised that she’d said it, he’d wanted to hear it again. When they defeated Arawn, he’d corner her and make her say it over. Perhaps many times.

By whatever god or miracle had aided them, all of Cade’s companions had reached the shore. Once he settled Rhiann, Cade gathered the rest of them together one by one around the fire. He’d known when the surf had thrown them onto the beach that he had only a little time to get all of them warm and dry, or none of them might wake again. They’d all been conscious initially, but exhaustion had won out. Now, with the heat from the fire creating a bubble of warmth, they fell under its spell and slept.

Another hour passed and then Siawn was the first to wake. He sat up abruptly, more energized than Cade would have expected, and actually smiled when he saw Cade observing him. “My lord.”

“Cousin,” Cade said.

Siawn got to his feet and stretched. Cade had urged Siawn to remove his robes when they were in the dinghy and now he was dressed as Cade was, in breeches and shirt, though without a sword. “I see that I have arrived home in one piece, thanks to you,” Siawn said. “I will find out where we are before the others wake.”

Pleased at Siawn’s initiative, Cade nodded. Siawn sketched a bow and turned south, making for a gap in the cliffs, and Cade returned to watching his friends sleep. The fire crackled and Cade threw another armful of logs on to it before sitting again. Taliesin’s hair was ragged and stiff, spread out in a tangle around him, but sleep had smoothed the lines on his face, revealing yet again that he wasn’t much older than Cade himself. So often, Taliesin affected the air of the old man of prophecy that Cade forgot that he truly wasn’t. As Cade watched him, Taliesin stirred and then opened his eyes. His body tensed, in expectation of pain or fear Cade didn’t know, but then Taliesin relaxed and turned his head.

“So,” he said, with that particular tone with which Cade had become familiar. “We are alive.”

“It appears so,” Cade said.

“Your doing, I imagine.” Taliesin lifted his head to look at the fire and their sleeping companions. He dropped his head back to the sand. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Cade said.

“Are we forgiven, then?” Rhiann rolled onto her side and made to push onto her knees, but moaned instead and collapsed onto her stomach.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Taliesin said. “Perhaps Arawn’s attention is now elsewhere.”

“Or perhaps my prayers were answered,” Siawn said. “Perhaps Crawdawg looked down on us and asked God to have mercy.”

Cade looked away from Rhiann to see the priest walking towards them from the cliffs that lined the beach. Taliesin had the grace not to snort at Siawn’s words, and Cade shot him a grateful look. He was torn between the two of them. While he’d prayed for deliverance with Siawn, he’d understood Taliesin’s entreaties as well. Perhaps their survival was a tacit blessing from both religions. He liked to think so, anyway.

Cade squatted next to Rhiann and touched her hair. “Are you all right?”

“Every single one of my muscles hurts.” She lifted her chin to look at him. “Look at you! It isn’t fair.”

“What about me?” Cade said.

“Not a bruise on you,” she said, “though your hair certainly needs some help.”

Cade ran a hand through his hair, feeling its rough ends standing straight up on end. “All the better for our disguise. If we look as ragged as this when we reach Caer Dathyl, nobody will look at us twice.”

“The cliff turns inland further down the beach, my lord.” Siawn came to a halt beside Cade. “There is a passage that can lead us to Caer Dathyl.”

“This isn’t quite where I intended to land.” Cade straightened and examined the landscape. “But it could be worse.” The cliffs were nearly vertical here, not the lower mounds and hillocks of a few miles further north.

By now Rhiann was on her feet. She made a movement as if to check her back and then let her hand fall and her shoulders sag. She gave Cade a rueful smile. “The wood would be horribly warped from seawater anyway,” she said. “The bow strings are useless as it is.” She pulled the sodden thread from an inner pocket at her waist.

“If we ever make it inside the castle,” Cade said, “we’ll see about getting you a new bow.”

“It won’t be the same,” she said. “I fought well with that one.”

“Perhaps Siawn can help you find one that will suit,” Cade said.

Rhiann gave an involuntary shiver. “I’m not sure how I feel about using anything from Caer Dathyl.”

“If we get inside safely,” Siawn said, “I can lead us to the armory.”

“Perhaps that isn’t where it used to be,” Rhiann said. “Bedwyr says the castle is different.”

“I don’t believe it,” Siawn said. “I know the walls are made of stone now, but it can’t be extraordinarily changed or people would talk. Time has sped up for us because we feel the urgency of our task. For everyone else, barely a month has passed since my father’s death. The sun still shines; the farmers are preparing for spring plowing; the sheep move further up the mountain as the snows recede.”

“And then Arawn releases more and more demons from his cauldron.” Goronwy got to his feet near Dafydd and Hywel, who had also woken and stood. They brushed the sand from their stiffened and dried clothing and then buckled on the swords that Cade had kept safe.

“There is that,” Siawn said. “Not something any of us should forget, even for a moment.”

“You know what is bothering me about all this?” Dafydd had pulled his sword from its sheath and was rubbing at it with the tail of his shirt, polishing it until it shone. Cade found, suddenly, that he liked him now, far more than yesterday.

“I have no idea, brother,” Goronwy said, “but I suspect you’re going to tell us.”

Dafydd made a face at him, like he must have when he was a child, but then sobered. “I can’t imagine these demons are leaving Caer Dathyl by the main gate in broad daylight. That just doesn’t make sense, unless Teregad has evicted all of the peasants and craft workers.”

“We would have heard,” Cade said. “Bedwyr would have seen that.”

“If Arawn’s lair is under Caer Dathyl,” Siawn said, “there are catacombs a-plenty beneath it that could house him and allow passage through to the outside without necessarily going through the fort itself.”

Cade turned and shared a look with Taliesin. Just as at Dinas Emrys.

“I suspect, however,” Siawn continued, “that there is a way down to the catacombs from inside Caer Dathyl, particularly from Teregad’s quarters.”

“So why do we delay?” Goronwy said. “The sun sets; Arawn awaits.”

Taliesin had finally risen and come to join them. “I used my staff to assist my arrival on shore. But now I’ve lost it. Perhaps we could find it if we looked.” Now that he was upright, he did look strange without his black cloak and staff. Cade hoped it wasn’t on the bottom of the sea with Rhiann’s bow.

Hywel and Dafydd immediately went to look for it, and it was just moments later that Dafydd came sprinting back, the staff upright in his hand.

“I found it!” Dafydd handed it to Taliesin, who patted him on the arm. The contrast between them was almost comical: Taliesin, so tall and thin, and Dafydd, his twin in height but easily twice Taliesin in weight.

Hywel trotted in behind him, holding a sealed water skin. He reached Cade and handed it to him. “We can share for now, and then refill it when we get to a stream. Given the rains, I’m sure Siawn can find us one nearby.”

“Good thinking,” Cade said. Because he didn’t need to drink water himself, he unsealed the lid and passed it to Rhiann, who took a short sip, and then another long one before passing it to Taliesin. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand.

“Are you ready?” Cade asked her.

She smiled. “Are any of us? But yes, I’m ready if you are.”

“Lead on, Siawn,” Cade said. “We’ll follow you.”

Goronwy and Rhun kicked sand over the fire and then everyone followed the trail Siawn had found. It wended up from the beach, circling around grassy hummocks and boulder outcroppings until it reached the flat farmland below the massive escarpment upon which Caer Dathyl perched.

The fort covered the whole expanse of the mountain above them, its stone walls encircling an area large enough to hold over one hundred huts, as well as craft halls, stables, and a keep. The fort had its own water source—a well springing from deep within the mountain—and since the road up to it was precipitous, it would be impossible to besiege, which is why they weren’t going to try.

Cade walked with Taliesin. “Math ap Mathonwy knew what he was about when he built his fort, didn’t he?”

Taliesin glanced at him. “I’m sure the fact that Arawn rules from his seat is causing turmoil in his heart in the Otherworld,” Taliesin said. “But I feel his will supporting us, for he also was a King of Gwynedd.”

When the companions came around the next corner, everyone hesitated in mid-stride, looking up at the looming fort with the same consternation Cade felt. Siawn led them off the track and under the trees beside it just as full darkness descended. The moon shone feebly, but no stars appeared. Nobody but Cade could see more than the faint outline of the others, and Rhiann clutched at his sleeve to make sure she even knew where he was.

Taliesin indicated the moon with his chin. “We are in Arawn’s domain now. He will know we are here. He veils the stars and will do everything in his power to stop us.”

“Arawn can do what he likes.” Goronwy rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles. “He always does. We do what have to.”

“And what exactly do we have to do now?” Dafydd said.

“If I may make a suggestion, my lord?” Siawn said.

“Please,” Cade said.

“You can see in the dark, and some of us are without swords. If you, along with Goronwy, Dafydd, Hywel, and Bedwyr, search around the outside of the mountain for a way into the catacombs, then the other four—Rhun, Lady Rhiann, Taliesin, and I—can enter Caer Dathyl through the front gate, or even the postern entrance if I can convince someone to let us in that way.”

“You think that your familiar face puts you at an advantage?” Cade said. “That you have friends who will aid you; who don’t know of your imprisonment in Caer Ddu?”

“Yes,” Siawn said. “Or even if they did know that Teregad distrusts me, our people have never loved Teregad as they did our father. It may be, as well, that Teregad has told everyone that I’m dead, in which case, I will have some friends who will be happy to see me.”

“Unlike me,” Dafydd said, “who would be destined for the dungeon the moment the first guard saw my face.”

“Will they let you into the fort at this hour?” Rhun said.

“Travelers come and go into the evening,” Siawn said. “If we reach the summit within the hour, many of the fort’s villagers will still be out and about.”

“We’ll be disguised anyway,” Taliesin said.

Cade rocked back at the assurance in Taliesin’s voice. Taliesin ignored the impact of his words, instead lighting the end of his staff with a whisper, already accepting the plan as the best one available. He held the tip near the ground, illumining a small circle in the path. Even that little light was enough to bring some measure of comfort.

As they prepared to separate, Cade pulled Rhun away from Rhiann and Siawn. “Don’t wait for us,” Cade said, “and we won’t wait for you. Whichever group finds the entrance to the catacombs first needs to follow the path to its conclusion.”

“Agreed,” Rhun said. “What is your plan?”

“If such an entrance exists,” Cade said, “demons should be issuing from it. I suspect that nighttime will be the hours that they’ll do it.”

“Can you enter the catacombs without an invitation?”

“Demons are not human,” Cade said. “Nor are gods. Human rules don’t apply. I’ve discovered that in my wanderings.”

“I assume this is why you have acquiesced so easily to leaving Rhiann,” Rhun said. “You are worried about being left outside the fort were you to seek entrance, because it is Teregad himself who must admit you?”

“Leaving Rhiann?” Cade said.

“I’m neither an idiot nor blind,” Rhun said. “What’s more, I’m a married man. I understand that you are waiting until after this fight to declare yourself. I will care for her for you.”

Cade wasn’t going to argue with that. Taliesin, Alcfrith, and Rhun had all spoken to him of Rhiann, and he was beginning to hope that if they saw no difficulties in the relationship, provided he could actually touch her, perhaps he didn’t need to either. Even Rhiann might agree.

“What kind of demons are we talking about?” Hywel said from behind Rhun. “Horned devils? Hounds? Another sidhe?”

Cade looked past Rhun to answer him. “Not the last. I’m not worried about Arianrhod or one like her catching you unawares.”

“Be most alert for hounds accompanied by a great huntsman, clothed in gray, riding a gray horse,” Taliesin said. “The huntsman will be Arawn himself.”

“We’ll remember that.” Dafydd nodded his head up and down emphatically.

Rhiann had been gazing into the distance, but now she turned to Cade. He met her eyes and his heart warmed to see only concern in them. She no longer felt disgust at the sight of him, if she ever had. She clasped her hands in front of her lips as if in prayer and spoke over them. “I’m afraid.”

Cade hesitated, and then reached for her arm and pulled her to him. She clutched him around the waist. She felt so right, he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her, like he’d wanted to do so many times before. She spoke again, her words muffled by his shirt.

“It feels like a great weight is bearing down on us and it is only because all of us are carrying it together that it doesn’t crush us. If even one of us falters, I fear for the rest.”

“You’re here because you’ve earned the right,” Cade said. “Teregad is unlikely to suspect a woman is a danger to him. I don’t like the peril into which this puts us, but you have been strong and steady up until now—and smart. See that you continue to be so, and stay close to Taliesin.”

“Yes, Cade,” she said.

“Now go.” Cade released her.

She stepped back, nodded once, and with Taliesin and his little light leading the way, she walked up the trail and out of sight.

Chapter Five

Rhiann

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INSTEAD OF THE FEAR that had settled permanently into her belly, Rhiann chose to focus on her soaring heart. So Cade was sidhe. I don’t care! I don’t care! Despite the fact that she was walking away from him, she could still feel his arms around her, warming her body with the memory of it.

“I’m not sure we even need your light, Taliesin,” Rhun said from behind Rhiann. They had traveled nearly halfway up the trail to Caer Dathyl which blazed above them, every torch on the ramparts lit and casting light and shadows on the ground outside the walls. Occasional lights also shone from inside the farmsteads below the trail, as a croft holder entered or exited his home. Rhiann was glad of it. She hadn’t ever told Cade how much she didn’t like the dark. Besides. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Only the minions of Arawn, rising through his cauldron to walk the earth.

Rhiann followed second in line, holding her skirts up with one hand so she wouldn’t trip on the hem. Siawn was directly behind her and Rhun brought up the rear. Taliesin stopped abruptly and put a hand on her arm. “Hold.” He put out his unneeded light. Whistling came up the trail from behind them.

“This is your moment, friend,” Rhun said to Siawn. “Get us in.”

“I thought you’d disguised us,” Siawn said to Taliesin.

“Not yet,” he said.

Siawn turned, waiting on the whistler who at that moment came around the bend below them. At the sight of the four friends standing together in the dark, he stopped short. He raised the torch he held higher, studying them; then recognition crossed his face.

“My lord!” he said. “Father Siawn, I mean. You’ve returned!”

“Hello, Berwyn,” Siawn said. The man hurried forward to greet him and Siawn stepped past Rhun with his hand out. They shook firmly and then Siawn leaned forward to rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again!” Berwyn said.

“Oh,” Siawn said, clearly nonplussed, and dropped his hand. “Why ... why not?”

“Your brother put out that you’d gone to live in a hermit cell in the mountains to the east, in Snowdonia,” Berwyn said. “He implied that you had settled on it as your purpose in life; that you’d received your calling.”

“I see,” Siawn said. “Perhaps he misunderstood, for it was never my intent to stay away forever.”

“Well that’s sounds more like the Siawn I know.” Berwyn clapped him on the back.

“So you’ll understand if I would prefer not to let him know I’m here, right off?” Siawn turned and urged him a few steps up the trail. “Not until I’ve figured out the lay of the land, so to speak?”

“Not a problem,” Berwyn said. “We certainly have a long history of sneaking in the fort after dark, don’t we?”

That prompted the rest of the companions to give Siawn the once over. Rhun, in particular, grinned to hear Berwyn’s comment. It sounded like he and Siawn had more in common than they’d thought, as Rhun had done quite a bit of sneaking about with Cade, only a fraction of which Rhiann had heard about.

“We certainly do,” Siawn said. “The fort looks very different from when I last saw it.”

Berwyn stopped to look at him, and then the other companions, puzzled. “Does it? I wouldn’t say so.”

“The ... stone,” Siawn said. “There didn’t use to be quite so much of it.”

Berwyn laughed and began to walk again. “The walls are a little higher perhaps. Otherwise, it’s the same. You’ll see.”

Siawn nodded, but didn’t look at Berwyn. “I’ve been away too long, I guess.”

“I can say one thing,” Berwyn said. “With you gone, Caer Dathyl is not as hospitable as it once was.”

“Teregad didn’t ask you to step into your father’s shoes, did he?” Siawn said. “With our fathers gone, the castle is without both its steward and its lord.”

“No,” Berwyn said. “Teregad has no love for me, and I certainly would never seek to serve him. He runs things his own way.”

“You were always my friend,” Siawn said. “My sense is that Teregad looks right past you and never sees you at all.”

“Which is just how I like it,” Berwyn said. “In two weeks’ time I marry my lovely Brynne of Penrhyn Mawr. I’ve promised her father I will make my home with him, as he has no sons.”

“Good for you!” Siawn said. “I had no idea things had progressed that far with Brynne’s family.”

Berwyn smiled with satisfaction. “Two more weeks, friend. I’m only here another day or two and then I travel south. Will you come with me when I go? I would have your blessing on our marriage.”

Siawn glanced at Rhun and then back to Berwyn. “You have my blessing now,” Siawn said, “but if all goes well with my brother, I will come with you.”

“Excellent,” Berwyn said. “Let’s get moving before anyone else comes along.” Berwyn had eased past Rhun, Taliesin, and Rhiann and now took up the lead with Siawn beside him. He glanced back at Taliesin. “What brings you folks to Caer Dathyl?”

Rhiann had no answer to that, as lying had never been a particular ability of hers, but Berwyn didn’t seem to expect it. It was Taliesin who plunged ahead.

“We encountered Siawn in the mountains a week ago. We were traveling west ahead of a horde of Saxons and we thought it best to stick together. I’m a bard and Siawn was kind enough to offer us the hospitality of your fort.”

“A bard you say?” Berwyn said. “That is good news, for we’ve been without one for some time. The absence of singing makes the evenings very long.”

“What of your previous one?” Taliesin said. “Wasn’t Aneirin his name?”

“Teregad ordered him out within days of Lord Iaen’s death,” Berwyn said. “He sang elegies to Lord Iaen, of course, but then he composed a series of songs to the son of the Pendragon, Cadwaladr. A relation of yours, I think?”

“That is correct,” Siawn said. “He is my cousin.”

“So he’s Teregad’s cousin too,” Berwyn said. “Regardless, Teregad didn’t like it one bit and threw the bard out on his lyre.”

“He sang about Cadwaladr?” Rhiann said, unable to resist the question. “Of what did he sing?”

“Of the death of Cadwallon and the great deeds Lord Cadwaladr will do when he comes into his inheritance,” Berwyn said. “Aneirin seemed to think Cadwaladr would follow in his father’s footsteps and save us from our enemies.”

“And well he might,” Taliesin said. “Perhaps that was Teregad’s objection? That he seeks such an honor for himself?”

“There is no doubt of that,” Berwyn said. “He has brought strangers to Caer Dathyl and the blacksmiths create new weapons and armor for his soldiers every day. He is preparing for war, but he also has far more weapons than men to use them.”

“Do you know what he’s planning?” Siawn said.

Berwyn shook his head. “You’ll see when we get there. Maybe you can ask him.”

Fifty yards on, they turned a corner and confronted the vast fort that was Caer Dathyl. It stretched hundreds of feet across the top of the plateau on which it was built, encircled by a stone wall at least twenty feet high.

“I will enter through the front gate,” Berwyn said. “The four of you can circle around to the postern gate and I’ll let you in when I can.”

They nodded.

“It may be a while,” Berwyn said, over his shoulder.

“We’ll wait,” Siawn said. “It’s not particularly cold.”

It wasn’t. Although she could have used a cloak to take the edge off the breeze that was blowing this high up the mountain, thanks to the fire Cade had built, Rhiann’s clothes had dried from the dunking in the ocean. What she felt most was a burning hunger in her belly. As a princess, even a bastard one, she’d never gone hungry except as punishment. Come to think on it, she’d spent more time being hungry since she’d met Cade than in her entire previous life.

“Come on, Bard,” Siawn said, meaning Taliesin. Siawn led them back down the hill a few paces and then departed from the trail to follow the stone wall.

“I am a bard,” Taliesin said, his voice mild. “I can sing.”

Rhun released a low chuckle. “Among other things.”

Taliesin didn’t dare light his staff, so the companions found themselves stumbling over unseen rocks and hollows in the ground. Rhiann followed Siawn’s lead, resting her right hand on the stones of the wall as they walked around it. The postern gate lay on the other side of a large protruding rock that they had to scramble around and then over.

“No one could ever take this place by force,” Rhun said. “We’d need an army with shields to navigate the pathway, and then a battering ram to bring down the gate. Even then, we’d only get through the gateway one at a time.”

“No one ever has attempted it,” Siawn said. “You know as well as I that deception is always the best way—and sometimes the only way—to enter a fort like this.”

“Much like when Dafydd and I shot the Saxons,” Rhiann said. “A few can hold off many if the circumstances are right.”

“Which is why we’re doing it this way,” Taliesin said.

They reached the postern gate and settled down on either side of it against the wall. Rhiann pulled the edge of her skirt over her feet and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Can you explain something to me, Taliesin?” Rhiann canted her head to the side and rested her cheek on one knee. She could just make him out by the reflected light of the torches that lit the inside of the fort.

“I can try.”

“Does Cade believe we can stop Arawn?”

Taliesin looked over at her and when he spoke, Rhiann heard something that sounded like pity in his voice. “I think he actually does. He believes in good, and that if he aligns himself with the light, he cannot fail.”

“But you aren’t so sure,” Rhiann said, not as a question, knowing it.

“I believe in Cadwaladr,” Taliesin said. “That’s why I’m here. And because of Cadwaladr, despite all recent evidence to the contrary, I believe that we’re not alone in this.”

“You think that?” Siawn said. “You, the magician who holds out his hands in hopes of stopping a storm and conjures a light from his staff by worshipping the same devil that we’re about to fight?”

“I believe it,” Taliesin said. “Cadwaladr is a gift to us, whether from my gods or yours. I’d be a fool not to see it.”

“I say the same,” said Rhun, “but not because of all your prophecies and gifts and whatnot.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I believe it because Cade came back from that cave, not to destroy the people he loves, but to save them.”

Taliesin nodded. “Only someone who followed the light; only someone with a powerful conscience and vision, could unite people as different and disparate as those of us who follow Cadwaladr.”

Siawn opened his mouth to speak again, and then swallowed it. Instead, he simply nodded. “Agreed.”

Finally, after nearly an hour, Berwyn returned. The friends scrambled to their feet as the postern gate creaked open.

Berwyn poked his head through the gap between the stone wall and the door. “We’re clear. Come on in!”

Silently, the companions filed through the doorway into Caer Dathyl.

Chapter Six

Cade

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CADE HOPED THAT RHIANN and the others were having better luck than his group was. It wasn’t that it was dark, because that wasn’t a problem for him. It was that the mountain was huge, they were on foot, and dense undergrowth covered the northern side of the mountain on which Caer Dathyl was built. The fort itself was some distance to the east of them now, and they were looping west and then south. Eventually, they could walk full circle, back to the main path that led up to the front gate. Cade hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He was deliberately leading his companions higher and further south with every step. Soon they would be above the trees and just under a great, vertical escarpment that they would not be able to traverse.

“I recall mentioning that knights don’t walk,” Goronwy mumbled from behind Cade.

“Remind me to carve that above the doorway at the fort on Ynys Manaw when you return,” Dafydd said. “That will go over really well on an island about the size of this mountain.”

Cade sensed that the brothers had stopped walking, and checked behind him. Goronwy was studying his brother—or what he could make out of him in the oppressive darkness. “I’m not going back,” Goronwy said, finally. “There is no place for me there as it is Merfyn who will inherit. Surely you knew that?”

“Oh,” Dafydd said.

Goronwy nodded and resumed climbing. Dafydd watched his back for a moment, and then followed. “I suppose I’m not going back either.”

Goronwy didn’t check his stride and gave no indication that he’d heard his brother’s reply. Perhaps only Cade had.

“What about our men to the north?” Bedwyr said. “One of us should surely find them and give them word of our shipwreck and that we are continuing as planned. They need to know that we will send word as soon as we’ve found a way to open the fort for them.”

“Good idea,” Cade said. At his words, everyone stopped and turned in the direction of Bedwyr.

“Me again?” he said, outraged. “Why me?”

“Because you are the only one of us, apart from Siawn and Dafydd, whose face has been seen at Caer Dathyl,” Cade said.

Bedwyr wasn’t happy.

“Besides,” Goronwy said, slapping him on the shoulder, “someone needs to lead Wales when we meet our deaths.”

“Oh, aye,” Bedwyr said. “I can see me as King of Gwynedd. The people wouldn’t be thanking me for that. Better Geraint, or even Tudur.”

“They’re not going to want to wait for us for long either,” Hywel said. “When Bedwyr finds them they’ll think to come hightailing to the castle gate as quick as they can.”

“They’ll want to,” Cade said. “But they won’t, right, Bedwyr?”

He looked down at his boots. “Nobody is going to like that.”

“I am King of Gwynedd,” Cade said, “and until further notice, I need them where they are. You will know soon enough if we are successful. Either we will survive, or we won’t; either we’ll find a way to open the gates to our men, or we won’t.”

“It’s also possible that they didn’t make it to the camp either,” Dafydd said, as usual pointing out an unsavory truth. “We have no idea if our diversion to the sea distracted Arawn enough for him to let them pass. That Geraint and Tudur led men through Teregad’s territory might have been enough to encourage him to attack them. Both are far from home here in Arfon.”

Cade pursed his lips. “Then we’d better hurry in case they have become a diversion for us.”

“Well, I for one, have no intention of walking all the way to Geraint’s camp,” Bedwyr said. “By the time I got there, they would have long since given up on us.”

“Surely not,” Hywel said.

“I told Geraint to wait at most three days,” Cade said. “If we’ve not sent word to him by then, he is to look to himself and his people.”

“What of Bryn y Castell?” Dafydd said.

“It’s his,” Cade said. “Rhun and I agreed that he would rule well.”

“This is a cheerful conversation,” Goronwy said. “What’s all this talk of death? We’re going to defeat Arawn, aren’t we?”

“Absolutely.” Hywel nodded vigorously. “There is no question of it.”

At that vote of confidence, Cade held up his hand. The darkness had lifted slightly, thanks to a sprinkling of stars that had appeared in the sky, and he wondered if Taliesin and he had only imagined the way it had smothered them before. Clouds had even begun to play hide-and-seek with the waning moon.

Then an explosion of noise burst from the woods in front of them.

“What is that sound?” Dafydd said. “It’s unearthly.”

“Appropriate choice of words, brother,” Goronwy said. “It can only be hounds: the hounds of hell, as Taliesin warned.”

Hywel gurgled in his throat. “I was bitten by a dog as a child. I’ve never liked them.”

“Well you’re sure to enjoy these, then,” Goronwy said.

“Swords.” Cade grasped Caledfwlch’s hilt and pulled it from its sheath. It shone, as always, with an ethereal light. Cade gripped it tighter, nodding to himself, pleased that the light would draw the dogs to him and ensure that he was the first man they attacked.

“Here they come!” Hywel said.

The feet of the hounds pounded softly on the moist earth of the forest. The creatures’ red eyes glowed and moved closer with every leap. Goronwy stepped beside Cade, and Bedwyr planted his feet on the other side of him. The lead dog gathered himself for a great leap and Cade took one step forward to meet him. The power of the sidhe shot through him and he cut through the hound with one stroke of his blade.

Even with their leader dead, the half a dozen hounds came on undeterred. They leapt at the men from every direction. They didn’t bark, but growled a low-pitched sound that was marked every so often by a squeal as another died. One caught Cade from behind, biting deep into his shoulder. Cade swung around with a growl of his own and his momentum threw the dog from him. It landed with a whine at the base of a tree and lay still.

And then the hounds were either dead or so injured they’d run away to lick their wounds. Cade cast around for something with which to wipe the blood from Caledfwlch and ended up using the tail of his jersey. The cloth hissed as the blood touched it.

“You’re wounded, my lord,” Goronwy said.

“It’s nothing.” Cade rolled his shoulders. He could feel that same sizzle inside his skin where the hound’s teeth had bit. “It’s already healing. Look to Bedwyr.”

Bedwyr was on the ground, his legs splayed in front of him. Hywel knelt beside him. Goronwy and Cade ran to them and crouched down. “It’s my knee,” Bedwyr said. He was finding it difficult to breathe. “It feels as if the hound’s teeth cut right through me.”

Cade sheathed Caledfwlch and leaned in to look Bedwyr’s wound. “This might hurt.” He took the edges of Bedwyr’s torn pant leg in his fingers and ripped.

Bedwyr gasped. “Christ and all the Saints!”

“Is poison at work?” Hywel said. The gash was bruised and bloody, with torn and ugly edges. Cade wiped at it with the scrap of cloth, revealing several additional punctures on either side of the main wound.

Goronwy spoke low in Cade’s ear, not wanting to frighten Bedwyr any more than he already was. “If even a drop of the hound’s blood has entered his body, he could die from it, more than from the wound itself.”

Bedwyr wasn’t listening. He had squeezed his eyes shut and taken hold of Hywel’s hand. As Cade leaned over the wound, Bedwyr reached out, looking for another hand to hold, and gripped the hilt of Caledfwlch instead.

Instantly, the blood stopped flowing and the holes began to close. The men stared down at the leg as the healing wound followed a similar pattern to when Cade himself was injured. Cade felt at his shoulder with his left hand, sure that the bites of the hound were fading from him too.

“What’s happening?” Hywel said. “The wounds are healing!”

“You’re not ... ” Cade stopped and stared into Bedwyr’s face. As they looked at each other with dread, Bedwyr’s face drained of all color, even more than from the injury. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead and he wiped at them, first with one hand and then the other.

“He’s sweating.” Goronwy breathed a sigh of relief. “He hasn’t become a demon.”

“Then how can this be?” Dafydd said. “His knee is all but healed.”

Cade looked at the wound again. The progress of the healing had stopped and it began to seep blood as before. Hesitantly, Cade reached for Bedwyr’s hand and placed it on the hilt of Caledfwlch once more. Almost immediately, one of the puncture wounds closed.

“It’s Caledfwlch,” Hywel said, awestruck. “The sword heals!”

Bedwyr took in a shaking breath. “I am beyond delighted to hear that I’ve not become a demon.” And then added hastily, “no offense to you, my lord.”

“None taken,” Cade said.

They waited long enough for Bedwyr’s wounds to disappear entirely and then Cade held out his hand to haul Bedwyr to his feet. He took it. His color had returned, but his eyes were wider than usual and he put a hand to his leg to make sure the wound was really gone.

Meanwhile, Hywel had walked away, in the direction from which the dogs had come. Dafydd came to stand beside him, giving Goronwy another chance to speak to Cade in private. “It could be that the sword channels your ability to heal to others.”

Cade shrugged. “For now, I’m not sure that it matters. Entire legends have grown up around this sword, and around the man who wielded it before me. Perhaps it serves every master in a unique way.”

“Those hounds didn’t arise from the earth.” Hywel turned back to the companions. “Whatever the stories say, they issued from somewhere.”

“They certainly did,” Cade said. “We’re going to want to find out from where.”

“Saint Cari’s teat,” Goronwy said, always one for creative cursing. He put a hand on Cade’s arm. “There’s more out there!” In the distance, further up the mountain, and beyond where Hywel stood, a torch appeared, followed by two more.

“They must be following a trail further on,” Dafydd said.

Cade gauged the currents in the air. “They’re human at least. Men and horses.”

“Now that’s more like it,” said Bedwyr.

Because no humans had followed the running of the hounds and discovered them, the friends crept southward, moving closer to whatever was in front of them. After a period of effort, they crested a small rise. It was well treed and they were able to hide among them while peering down the other side. A path lay before them, upon which men and horses walked, coming straight down the side of the mountain like a tumbling brook. The initial rush of men and horses had passed, perhaps twenty riders in all, but still they came, two and three at a time.

“Who are those men?” Dafydd said.

“Teregad’s probably,” Cade said.

Hywel shook his head. “How can they follow him?”

“They swore an oath, just as you did to me, and most could never imagine breaking it,” Cade said.

“That’s all right, my lord,” Goronwy said from behind Cade. “If you were an evil, demon-worshipper, I’d just kick your arse rather than following blindly as you obeyed the mad rulings of a spoiled, petulant god-child.”

“Thank you, Goronwy,” Cade said. “I appreciate your frankness.”

Goronwy clapped Cade on the shoulder, right on the spot where the dog had bitten him. Cade didn’t even feel it enough to wince. “My pleasure,” Goronwy said. “So what’s the plan?”

“I need a horse,” Bedwyr said, “and it looks to me that there are several out there on offer.”

“Any objection to the notion that they’re coming from Arawn’s secret entrance?” Cade said.

The men shook their heads.

“Right,” Cade said. “No time for a complicated plan. I say we hide ourselves right here on the edge of the road and jump out on a pair of them.”

“Excellent,” Bedwyr said. “I like it; not like Taliesin and Siawn up there, plotting some elaborate ruse.”

“As we have swords and they don’t,” Goronwy pointed out, “a ruse is their only option.”

“True,” Bedwyr said, patting his weapon.

“Boys.” Cade cut off their banter. “Any questions?” Nobody had any. “Let’s go.”

The companions slid through the fallen leaves, down to the edge of the trail, but still hidden among the trees. Teregad’s men carried torches so their chance of seeing any approach in advance was slim, especially as Teregad’s men were not demons. When Cade and his men reached the path, it was empty.

“Dafydd and I are going to cross,” Goronwy said. “We’ll take down any men that ride on our side of the trail.”

“Wait until they’re just past us,” Cade said, “then we’ll spring on them.”

Goronwy and Dafydd scuttled to the other side and crouched low in the grass that rimmed the path. They waited through a slow count of twenty, and then hoof beats came again. A light bounced and weaved further up the mountain.

“How many are there, do you think?” Hywel said.

“Two or three again.” Cade glanced across the path at Goronwy, who was looking towards the light, calculating as Cade was what they needed to do. Soon the riders came into view. The one on Goronwy’s side held the torch. All three were conversing among themselves, seemingly unconcerned about haste or their mission, whatever that mission might be. They rode by the companions without seeing them. Just as the right rider’s stirrup passed Cade’s position, he charged.

“Now!” Cade said.

To his satisfaction, they achieved complete surprise. The horse closest to Cade reared, throwing his rider backwards to the ground. Bedwyr caught the horse’s reins. Meanwhile, the middle rider struggled to get his horse under control while still slashing at Hywel’s head.

The third rider whom Goronwy had attacked was also on the ground, although his horse had bolted, and now Dafydd launched himself at Hywel’s opponent. Somehow, he threw himself upwards with terrific force, caught the man around the waist, and carried him off the horse. The pair landed with a crunching sound on the other side, right at Hywel’s feet.

All of a sudden, their three opponents were on the ground: one dead, one unconscious, and one scared to death beneath Cade’s sword. Bedwyr spoke gently to the horse he held, having calmed it enough to stop it from rearing and striking him with its hooves, but it still shook and sweated. Hywel held the reins of the second horse, which seemed calmer.

“Take Hywel’s horse, Bedwyr,” Cade said, “and go.”

Bedwyr gave Cade a look—not disgruntled, but finally accepting—and nodded. Perhaps the incident with the hounds had made him more content with his role in the adventure. “Yes, my lord.”

Cade turned to Hywel and Dafydd, who’d gotten to his feet, massaging his neck and right shoulder. Otherwise, Dafydd was undamaged. “I want you to walk further up the trail and find the entrance into the catacombs,” Cade said. “Report back here as soon as you can.”

“Yes, my lord,” the two said in unison.

Bedwyr mounted his horse and with a last wave of his hand, trotted away from them, down the mountain. Cade sheathed Caledfwlch and crouched next to the man whose horse had thrown him.

“So.” Cade poked his prisoner in the chest. “Why don’t you tell me what you and your companions were doing out in the woods at this time of night.”

“N-n-no,” he said. “I can’t.” He tried to slide away, wiggling his shoulders as if he was a snake, but something was wrong with his legs because he couldn’t move them. He began to breathe hard, panicking.

Cade pursed his lips, gently rested his left hand on Caledfwlch’s hilt, and allowed the power within him to rise. Rhun had told him once that when he released the sidhe within him, his eyes turned an iridescent green and his face transformed in such a way that he looked nothing like himself, even though Rhun had not been able to pinpoint exactly what the changes were. Perhaps Rhiann could explain it better. “And now?” Cade said. Caledfwlch hummed at his waist, containing most of the light and energy Cade was feeling.

The man’s eyes widened and his face paled further. “I—”

Cade grasped his cloak with both hands and yanked him off the ground. “Where’s Teregad?”

“I-i-in Caer Dathyl,” he said.

“That’s better,” Cade said. “And Mabon?”

“The cavern,” he said. “He sent us out; said that men who were preparing to attack us had camped north of Caer Dathyl. Our orders were to find them and kill them.”

“You were hardly using stealth, now, were you?” Cade said. “Not with the torches and all the shouting.”

“Teregad sent us to clean up after the demons,” the man said.

“Demons?” Goronwy stepped to Cade’s shoulder.

“They left nearly two hours ago. The dogs were supposed to lead us to them but they ran off and disappeared.”

“Were the demons riding horses?”

The man snorted. “Demons don’t ride.”

Cade shared a look with Goronwy who gave him a wry smile. “Don’t fret, my lord. It’s true that Geraint and Tudur have their work cut out for them, but if Bedwyr can avoid Teregad’s men and ride quickly enough, there is a good possibility he will reach Geraint in time to warn him what is coming.”

Cade turned back to the man. “And what of Arawn?”

“You should know more of that than I, Demon,” the man said, his confidence growing as Cade had so far refrained from killing him.

“Pretend I don’t,” Cade said.

“The hounds are his,” the man said. “Mabon assured us they were reliable, but they ran off—stupid bastards. ‘Course, I don’t know why we needed them in the first place since you can smell a demon half a mile off.” Then his eyes snapped back to Cade’s face. The sneer was gone as he realized he’d forgotten himself. “Not that you smell, my lord.”

“Enough,” Cade said, disgusted with the man and his lack of conscience. Cade dropped the man to the ground and stepped back. “Get up.”

The man made a helpless movement with his arms and tears began to course down his face. “I can’t. I can’t feel anything.”

Cade looked at Goronwy. “Take a walk.”

Goronwy didn’t move. “Would you have killed him anyway?”

“Yes.” Cade gestured with one hand, both helpless and justifying. “Less messy this way, and less painful for him.”

“Then I don’t need to leave,” he said. “If I could have watched that, I can watch this.”

Cade studied Goronwy through three of Goronwy’s heartbeats, and then decided that he did, indeed, trust him. Cade put a hand to the man’s chest, looked into his eyes—and took his life.

Chapter Seven

Rhiann

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“DIDN’T THIS ENTRANCE have a guard on it?” Siawn said as Berwyn closed the door behind them and dropped the bar.

“Of course,” Berwyn said. “That hasn’t changed from your father’s day. I told him that he was wanted in the keep and that I would stand watch until he returned.”

“And he didn’t think that unusual?” Rhun said.

Berwyn shrugged. “Sure it was unusual, but everything’s been strange these last weeks, and it wasn’t so odd as to invite more than a passing comment.” He indicated the keep with his head. “You know the way, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Siawn said. “Thank you for helping us. If I get caught sooner than I’d like, I won’t mention you.”

Berwyn held out his hand again and Siawn clasped it. “Remember my wedding. I’ll expect you.”

Rhun shook his hand too and then they followed Siawn away from the gate, making their way around the darkened huts. They were just like the ones Rhiann had grown up seeing: rounded walls and thatched roofs with a hole in the center to let out the smoke from the fire and let in a bit of light during the day. Most of the doors were made of leather, attached to the walls by several thongs, although some were blocked merely by a blanket hung from the top of the doorway. The lords of Caer Dathyl owned slaves from the looks, many of them. Her father had never held with that, although whether his refusal was out of a Christian-inspired moral imperative (unlikely) or because he feared to find his throat slit in the night, Rhiann couldn’t decide.

It wasn’t yet midnight but the villagers were long asleep. Taliesin chose not to light his staff, but enough campfires smoldered around the huts such that the companions didn’t have trouble seeing the direction they had to take. They passed the first dozen huts without encountering anyone, and then the next fifty without being accosted, just a nod and a wave to one man, stumbling back to his hut from the latrine.

“If you act like you know what you’re doing, it’s rare that someone questions you,” Taliesin said.

Siawn kept his head down, despite Taliesin’s reassurance that nobody would recognize him unless they looked right at him. Rhiann wondered if a person had to believe to make Taliesin’s disguises work. Siawn clearly didn’t trust him yet, despite everything he’d seen him do.

They left the village’s huts and entered the working center of the fort. This area was better lit, with torches in sconces around the perimeter of the wall. During the day, it would be a hive of activity, with a blacksmith’s forge, craft halls, a wool shed, and the long, low stables, not far from the fort’s main gateway. And, of course, the keep. It towered over the plateau on which it stood, three stories high, and higher again to the ramparts on the top. It wasn’t so dissimilar to Aberffraw where Rhiann had grown up, except Aberffraw was built in wood, not stone, and was not so large a place.

The great double doors remained closed and Rhiann hesitated at the idea of entering there. She hung back from the others, taking it all in, and then cursed inwardly as the hem of her skirt caught on the jagged edge of a piece of splintered firewood, piled with others near the blacksmith’s hut. She bent down to check the damage.

“You there!”

Rhiann lifted her head, but didn’t straighten. She peered around the edge of the woodpile to see three armored soldiers confronting Taliesin and the others. Both Rhun and Siawn checked over their shoulders—presumably for Rhiann—and simultaneously made the same motion, each with a hand behind his back. It was the same one Cade had given her back in the woods after the Menai Strait: stay low; stay quiet. Rhiann scooted into the shadows a little more.

“Can I help you?” Taliesin said, in his most innocent voice.

“Who are these people?” The guard gestured with his chin to Siawn and Rhun.

“We are friends,” Taliesin said. “I am a bard and my fellow travelers are fleeing Saxon incursions in the east.”

Siawn stared hard at the ground and Rhiann wondered what he thought about Taliesin’s deception now, as the guard had not recognized him. The guard studied Taliesin who was undoubtedly smiling in his most winning way, although Rhiann couldn’t see it from where she crouched.

Come with us.” The guard spun on his heel and marched towards the keep. The three friends trailed after him while two other guards took up the rear. All Rhiann could do was watch them go and wonder at her incredible luck to have ripped her skirt. And was it luck? It was hard to know anymore what was luck and what was the hand of God, or a god, reaching down and touching each one of them in turn.

Well, now what? Rhiann retreated inside the blacksmith’s hut and began to pace around it, scuffing at the dirt floor, trying to think. What would Cade do? Cade, of course, could have strode in through those great doors, waving Caledfwlch about and most likely everyone would have been so awed, they would have immediately given way. Either that, or he’d have ended up in the dungeon. Again.

Rhiann wanted to avoid the dungeon at all costs, even if her friends were destined to find themselves inside it. There had to be another way into the keep. She nearly smacked her forehead with her palm when she realized that there was: the kitchens. Since Cade had thoughtfully dressed her as a peasant girl, she would fit right in.

As a little girl at Aberffraw, Rhiann had spent a great deal of time in the kitchens. Even if neither her father nor step-mother cared for her, when she was very little, the staff had viewed her as something like a pet—and one to be pitied at that for her awkward position in the household and scrawny looks. Rhiann’s demotion to serving wench at her father’s behest had hardly been much of a stretch, in truth, as she’d long since learned to work both sides of the kitchen door.

Rhiann tiptoed outside and began to flit her way around the perimeter of the large courtyard in front of the keep, moving from craft hall, to hut, to stables, and then to the back of the keep. From the front, it looked as if it was built on a slightly higher mound than the rest of the fort, but in actuality, this was an illusion. Stairs led up to the great hall from the courtyard, but from the rear, the hill was cut away, revealing an entire understory to the keep, into which were built the kitchens.

Nobody was in sight when Rhiann boldly walked to the door and pushed at it. It opened inward. The kitchen was a large, square room, with several rectangular tables in the center of it and multiple doorways leading out, presumably to pantries, cellars, and the great hall. A fire lit it, beside which a young boy, perhaps around ten or twelve years old, dozed. Otherwise, it was deserted.

On the table next to the scrubbing basin sat the remains of dinner. Rhiann spied a small, uneaten loaf of bread on one of the trenchers and her ravenous hunger reasserted itself. Her nerves at entering Caer Dathyl had taken care of any hunger she might have felt in the last half an hour. Now, her stomach growled so loudly she was sure it would wake the boy.

Unable to restrain herself, she picked up the bread. It was cold, but still soft. She took one bite, and then a second. In four, she’d eaten it all. Rhiann looked around for something with which to wash it down. On one of the large, well-scrubbed tables stood a carafe and she peered into it. A few dregs remained at the bottom and she had drained them before she realized that the wine was of very high quality. The carafe had probably belonged to Teregad. Ugh.

As Rhiann finished the last swallow, the boy opened his eyes. He didn’t see Rhiann at first, and then his eyes widened and he sat up straighter. “Who are you?”

Rhiann stopped in the act of putting down the carafe. “I’m ... here to help,” she said, totally at a loss for any more sensible explanation.

“Oh.” The boy subsided. “I think a few men are still awake in the hall, but I wouldn’t go out there if I were you.” He looked her up and down with an objective eye, too young himself to care what she looked like but old enough to understand that other men would.

“I won’t,” Rhiann said. “I thought I would curl up in a corner for the night and then I’ll be able to work right away in the morning.”

“All the girls who have fathers go home to them at night.” He settled back on his stool. “If they don’t have one ... ” He shrugged. “They do what the soldiers want.”

“My father’s dead,” Rhiann said. “That’s why I wanted to stay in the kitchen.”

The boy shrugged again. “Mine too.” He closed his eyes. Rhiann waited through a dozen heartbeats until she realized he was back asleep.

This time she didn’t hesitate. Despite her assurances to the boy that she wouldn’t go into the hall, she crossed the floor in a few strides. She checked each of the doorways in turn, looking for the stairs that would lead her up. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the men in the fort, but she needed to know what had happened to her friends. She hugged the wall of the stairwell, listening hard for the sound of anyone coming down it. All remained quiet.

She reached the top of the stairs, but was surprised to find that it hadn’t led her directly into the hall. Rather, she found herself in an antechamber storage room, perhaps five paces by ten. It contained no weapons, unfortunately—those would be in the guardhouse by the gate. Instead, chests and chairs had been stacked haphazardly around the walls, as spares in case they were needed for a larger gathering in the hall.

A piece of cloth peeked from one of the chests. Rhiann walked to it, a vague plan forming in her mind. She was still Cadfael’s daughter. Perhaps she could convince Teregad that she knew it was he who had seen her father last, and that she was only searching for word of him and the chance to bury his body if he was dead. Teregad wouldn’t need to know that Rhiann knew how her father had died. Rhiann doubted that Teregad would recognize her as the same girl who’d stood beside Cade and tried to put an arrow through him at Caer Ddu.

Rhiann opened the chest to reveal a stack of clothing. She unfolded the top item and shook out a fine, wool cloak in a soft burgundy. The fabric was plush and warm and she swung it around her shoulders. It fell all the way the ground and covered her completely. Better and better. In the kitchens, being mistaken for a peasant girl was necessary; in the hall, if she were to escape the attentions of a rowdy man, it was important that she appear as a noblewoman.

In the same chest, Rhiann found a comb and spent a frustrated quarter of an hour unbraiding and combing out her hair. The salt and physical activity had tangled it and forced her to rip at it to get all the knots out. Finally, she braided it and wound it in a bun on the top of her head.

Now she was ready to search for her friends. She stepped into the hall, only to find it darkened and without a soul awake. The structure of the hall was much like the one at Caer Ddu, and maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised at that, since the same gods had built it. Tapestries hung on the walls, along with ancient weapons. A single torch, guttering in its sconce, lit the space. Thankfully, a dead man did not adorn the empty space above the fireplace. Instead, a giant boar’s head stared down at her. Maybe it had even been there in the time of Lord Iaen, but something in Rhiann doubted it.

Dozens of men had strewn themselves around the hall, but every one was sound asleep, many of them snoring in a near cacophony of noise. At least Rhiann didn’t need to worry about walking softly. What was clear was that Rhun and the others were not present. Concerned and confused, Rhiann spun on one heel and checked behind her. More stairs went up, presumably to the private apartments and offices of Caer Dathyl’s lord.

Siawn had suggested that it might be possible for them to reach the caverns through an entrance located in Teregad’s rooms, as odd as that might seem. Rhiann decided that if anyone might know, Siawn would, and began to climb the stairs to the second floor. The stairs continued up another flight but she followed the second floor hallway a few paces until she found an open door. No candle burned inside the room. Rhiann sniffed the air. She didn’t have to have Cade’s finely tuned nose to know that it smelled like musty parchment. An office.

Rhiann stepped back into the hall. Still nobody else was in evidence. She walked to the second door, which was slightly ajar. A faint light came through the crack between the door and the frame. Rhiann took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She found herself in a standard bedroom, containing a large four-poster bed with hanging curtains around it, a chest, and one window on a side wall.

Teregad stood with his back to her, holding a lit, but mostly burned down, candle in his hand. He’d placed his other hand on the stones of the wall and was feeling along it, hunting for something. At Rhiann’s step, he spun around. Rhiann hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to say now that she’d found him, and the two stared at each other.

Teregad pointed at her, his mouth open. “You!”

“Teregad,” Rhiann said. She raised her hand, palm outward, to begin her plea. “I’ve come—.”

She stopped when a look of utter panic crossed Teregad’s face. He took a step backward, fumbling behind him. “Stay away! You aren’t real!”

Rhiann opened her mouth to try again, but Teregad banged the wall with his fist. A loud click sounded, and then a portion of the stone swung away, revealing a dark space behind him. With one last terrified look at Rhiann, Teregad threw himself into the space and disappeared.

The door began to swing closed and Rhiann dashed across the room to stop it from clicking shut. She wasn’t as fast as Cade would have been, but she managed to shove her fingers in the crack just before the door closed.

“Ouch!” The stone pinched her fingers. Quickly, she pulled a blanket from the bed and stuffed it in the space so she could remove her hand. She clenched her fist and pressed the throbbing fingers to her cheek. “By the Saints, that hurt.” She hoped that her earlier exclamation hadn’t awakened anyone on the floor, if there was anyone to wake.

The pain eased and Rhiann examined the door. Someone had cleverly fitted the stones together so that when the door was closed, it was impossible to distinguish from the wall around it. Gently, Rhiann pushed the door wide. On the other side, stone steps led down. Of Teregad, there was no sign, only a deep, impenetrable blackness.

Chapter Eight

Cade

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CADE LOOKED UP AS DAFYDD and Hywel moved openly along the path towards them. While he and Goronwy had waited for them to return, they’d hauled the three dead riders off the trail and thrown them down an incline. Even Cade couldn’t distinguish them from the leaves and brush in the dark. Afterwards, they’d rummaged through the saddle bags of the remaining horse for anything they could eat or use. Cade left the food for the others, but appropriated a spare cloak of surprising quality. Then, they’d released the horse, who trotted down the road a ways before stopping to crop the grass along its edge.

“There’s nobody guarding the entrance to the catacombs,” Dafydd said when he reached them. “We walked right in.”

“Mabon, or Teregad, or Arawn even, doesn’t know we’re coming?” Goronwy said. “Is that possible?”

“Perhaps Tudur and Geraint effectively sold the idea that they are the main force, preparing to attack Caer Dathyl as the rider told us,” Hywel said.

“And the storm at sea was coincidence?” Goronwy said.

Dafydd shrugged. “All I know is that there’s nobody there now.”

“Arawn could want us to walk right in,” Goronwy said. “Perhaps it’s a trap.”

“Either way, I don’t know that it changes anything,” Cade said. “We still have to find him. We still have to go in there. I, for one, am not walking all the way back to the entrance to the fort, only to be turned away when I reach it.”

“Then let’s go!” Hywel said.

“All right,” Cade said. “Lead on.”

The entrance to Arawn’s lair (if that was what this was) was only discernable from the path itself. It squatted underneath an overhanging cliff that rose up on both sides. The path marched straight up the mountain to the entrance and Cade didn’t need to wonder why the riders had taken it slowly when they’d come down, not wanting to twist a horse’s hock. Because he couldn’t imagine that Arawn had rooted himself under Caer Dathyl in King Iaen’s time, Cade supposed that the cave was old but the path to it was new.

A blazing torch sat in a sconce inside the tunnel, three feet from the entrance. It lit the space well and Goronwy peered past it, trying to see what lay beyond.

“How far into this did you go?” Cade asked Dafydd.

“Only a few feet further,” he said. “Just along the passage lies a cavern, about thirty feet square, with an exit at the far end. We didn’t dare venture any further than that.”

“That was wise,” Cade said, leading them down the tunnel and into the cave, which was as Dafydd had described. “We have no idea what’s in here.” The ceiling sat at least twenty-five feet above their heads. Growths and protrusions came down from it and were met by similar formations rising from the floor.

“Perhaps we should have kept Taliesin with us.” Goronwy pointed to a symbol on the wall near the entrance to the cavern, almost at ground level. Cade crouched to look at it.

“It’s a hound,” he said, “carved into the stone.”

“And here’s a stag,” Hywel said from his position on the other side of the opening.

“Well it looks like we’re in the right place,” Goronwy said. “Now all we have to do is find Arawn.”

“Find Arawn?” a voice said. “I would have thought that was the last thing you wanted to do.”

Very slowly Cade stood and turned around to face the speaker. In the center of the cavern stood a man, dressed all in gray: gray breeches, jersey, and deep gray cloak. He was slightly taller than Cade, with black hair and eyes, and nearly white skin. He wore a golden crown on his head and carried a bow, as well as a sword sheathed at his waist.

“My lord, Arawn.” Cade held his arms at his sides, his fingers itching to hold Caledfwlch, but not wanting to make a move that might encourage Arawn to send one of his arrows through his heart. “I didn’t think you’d want to face me so soon.”

The man didn’t respond, his face remaining frozen in a sneering mask. Then he wavered—his being actually flickered in and out, like a candle about to go out—and looked away from Cade. Cade glanced in the direction Arawn was looking. He saw nothing. It was as if Arawn was gazing at something against one of the walls that was hidden from mortal eyes. An expression of exasperation crossed Arawn’s face before he focused again on Cade.

“I will deal with you, soon enough,” he said, and vanished, replaced in that instant by an enormous demon, huge and gray-skinned. The troll-like creature carried a massive club instead of a sword. He didn’t even seem to have enough thought in his head to glower at the companions, merely took his club off his shoulder and swung it.

“Whoa!” Dafydd exclaimed as the end of the club whistled past him, two inches from his nose. In unison, the men pulled out their swords, although what they were going to do with them Cade didn’t know. A sword wasn’t an effective weapon against a club—especially not such an enormous one as the troll carried. What Cade really wanted was a spear.

“Spread out!” Goronwy said. “He can’t attack us all at once!”

“Can’t he?” Dafydd threw himself sideways. “It looks like he’s doing a pretty good job of it to me!”

The troll hadn’t yet landed a blow, but he had lashed out with his club at each companion in turn, not giving any of them time to recover before he was at them again.

“I’ll distract him,” Cade said. “When I do, run for the exit on the other side!”

Cade didn’t wait for agreement from his friends, but darted in under the troll’s club while he was attempting to decapitate Hywel with it. As much as Cade hated to sully Caledfwlch with troll blood, he stabbed him in the toe. The troll arched his back, turning his face to the ceiling, and howled with pain. The others ran for the door and made it, but the troll recovered before Cade could get past him to follow.

With his next swing, the troll’s club caught Cade on his right side, two steps from the door, and flung him backwards. With a painful thud, Cade hit the wall by the tunnel through which they’d entered the cavern. He fell to the ground.

“Cade!” Goronwy said from the far doorway.

Cade held up a hand to stop Goronwy from attempting a rescue, but all the same, was relieved to find that Goronwy’s call had distracted the troll. The troll turned to the tunnel in which the three companions stood and swung his club into it. He knocked pieces of stone onto the ground, but didn’t hit anyone. The troll then crouched and began probing into the doorway. As it was only six feet high, it was far too small for him to enter. Goronwy backpedaled, pushing the others further into the tunnel to avoid the troll’s attack.

Cade got to his feet. He might heal easily, but his ribs were still bruised, maybe even cracked, and he leaned against the wall, trying to get his bearings. The troll’s rear still blocked the path to his friends. Cade stared at it, and then the solution dawned on him.

He pulled a knife from where he kept it at his waist and limped forward, moving into a staggering run. Goronwy held off the troll with his sword, which was still of little use against the club, keeping Dafydd and Hywel back. The troll bent forward further to push his head inside the tunnel, although his shoulders wouldn’t fit. He was straining to reach Goronwy when Cade rammed his knife to the hilt, straight up the troll’s anus.

The troll screamed. Because his head was inside the tunnel, however, when he jerked upwards, he jarred the back of his head on the stony ceiling. Still screaming, he pulled his head back into the cavern, with Cade leaping to the right to get out of his way. The troll spun around, dropped his club, and clutched at his backside searching for the knife, while the other hand went to the back of his head.

Cade danced out from behind the troll and slid into the tunnel. “Go!” He pushed on Goronwy. “Into the next cave!”

Nobody needed any further urging and the companions popped out of the tunnel into a second cavern, much larger than the first. The ceiling extended at least forty feet upwards. The protrusions and rock formations that adorned it sparkled with crystals, reflecting the light of the two torches that were all that lit the vast expanse of the cavern.

On the far right wall near where Cade stood sat a ledge with a doorway opening onto it. As it was at least fifteen feet off the ground, Cade didn’t see that anyone but he would be able to explore in that direction. He peered through the gloom, trying to make sense of the shifting colors and shapes between them and the opposite wall.

“There’s another door.” Cade pointed to a spot fifty yards away.

Goronwy came to stand beside him. “I’m sorry to correct you, my lord. But the door is over there.” He indicated a section of the wall that from Cade’s perspective was clearly made of solid stone.

“I don’t see a doorway there,” Cade said. He and Goronwy exchanged a look.

“I see one!” Dafydd took off in a jog towards a third spot, entirely different from either of the ones that Goronwy or Cade saw.

“Don’t!” Goronwy said. Dafydd turned back, his eyes questioning. “We don’t see a door there, Dafydd.”

“But it’s right here.” He turned back to what was without a doubt a solid wall, and proved exactly that by bouncing off it, fortunately not having hit his head but only his right shoulder. He recovered and put out a hand, experimentally. “It’s funny, but I don’t see it now.” He turned back to Cade.

“We never saw it at all,” Goronwy said. “If you had listened to us, you wouldn’t have wasted the effort.”

“There it is! Over there!” Dafydd now pointed to a spot closer to the ledge with its inaccessible doorway.

“We need to be smart about this,” Cade said. “Goronwy, you and Hywel go to where you see a door and find out if it’s a true one.”

They obeyed, each walking to a spot that looked impenetrable to Cade. They touched the hard stone that he already knew was there. Once they reached that spot, they turned, and in unison pointed in an entirely different direction, towards a new door somewhere else.

“Nobody sees my door, then,” Cade said.

“No, my lord,” Goronwy said. The others shook their heads.

Cade began to walk toward the one that remained clear to him. As he did so, he adjusted the path he was taking to it so that as he got closer, he could see down the tunnel it led to. It looked very real. “When you look at the doors,” Cade said, “do you see anything through the doorway or just the empty opening itself?”

“The empty opening,” Goronwy said, sure. “It’s full dark behind it.”

“The shape is of a door, though,” Hywel said, walking with Dafydd and Goronwy back towards Cade. “It still looks real to me.”

“Well, I see the passage that my door leads to,” Cade said. “There’s a light behind it and I think the tunnel turns to the right about ten yards in.”

As Cade spoke these words, a yelp sounded that was unlike a noise any of his friends would have made. He spun around. Out of each of the six doorways his companions had seen, two demons appeared, each armed with a weapon: axes, maces, and in one case, a giant hammer, which the demon rested on his shoulder.

“To me!” Cade pulled Caledfwlch from its sheath and instantly stilled his panic. Never before had Cade been so glad Rhiann wasn’t with him. Even if she had withstood the Saxons and demons at Llanllugan, he would not have wanted her to have to fight what faced them now.

His friends had frozen at the sight of the demons, but now raced towards him. Against so many, they stood a better chance and were a far more powerful fighting force standing together, than spread across the floor where the demons could pick them off one by one. Dafydd reached Cade first, gasping for breath, and took up position on his left. Goronwy skidded to a halt on his right. Hywel, unfortunately, didn’t quite make it to Cade and had to stop and turn. He caught the mace of a squat, burly, green fellow who was attempting to bring the weapon down on his head.

“Forward!” Goronwy said. The companions raced across the fifteen feet that separated them from Hywel. As they reached him, the other demons fell upon them, and it was all any of them could do to stay on their feet under the relentless attack.

With Caledfwlch blazing in his hand, it was as if Cade could foresee every movement the demons who opposed him made. At the same time, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t allow the sidhe power to rise within him. He held himself in complete control. His sword still shone as it always did, humming in his hand with an irrepressible energy, but whether through it—or more likely, because of it—he didn’t let the power flood through him, as he had at the ford of Llanllugan. Perhaps it was a desire to remain more human in the face of the inhuman beings that attacked them. Regardless, he felt that he should contain it as long as he could. Instead, Cade gathered whatever human strength he naturally commanded, and began hacking away at his opponents.

Chapter Nine

Rhiann

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RHIANN HESITATED ON the threshold of the doorway to the darkened stairs. She’d overheard what Cade had said to Rhun: that if they found the way to where Arawn kept the cauldron, they shouldn’t wait for the others. But she didn’t think that meant they shouldn’t stick with the companions they’d come in with, and she didn’t want to leave her friends imprisoned in Caer Dathyl if she could help them at all. Admittedly, Rhun and Siawn had Taliesin with them, and Rhiann didn’t know that any cell could hold him, but there was magic here that might be beyond even him.

Perhaps Taliesin would be able to tell her what happened to Teregad. What did he see that frightened him so badly? Rhiann hoped it was Taliesin’s doing, whatever it was, since no man had ever reacted in quite that fashion to her looks before.

Rhiann stuffed the blanket more securely into the stone doorway and then returned to the entrance to the room. Teregad had dropped his candle in his fear and she picked it up, glad it hadn’t either gone out or burned the floorboards, but merely left a dripping of wax where it had fallen. Rhiann ventured into the hallway. As before, it was empty and Rhiann ran to the stairs. When she reached them, she stopped again, wondering if she should go up or down to find where her friends were being kept.

Down.

Back in the great hall, she surveyed the sleeping men. They slept deeply, causing her to wonder if they weren’t poisoned in some fashion. Perhaps these were men whom Teregad hadn’t wanted to banish from the castle, but didn’t entirely trust? She didn’t know and supposed it didn’t matter, right at the moment. Their sleep gave her an opportunity she wasn’t going to waste.

Similar to the layout at Caer Ddu, other doorways led from the hall. In addition to the opening that led to the kitchen, and another to the upstairs, both of which Rhiann had used, there were two more doorways set in the walls near the front doors to the keep. She skirted the men at the tables until she reached the doorway to the right. She went through it, immediately encountering yet another set of stairs. These went down, and like the one in Teregad’s bedroom, disappeared into the dark.

She held her candle high and took a step, the first with trepidation and then more confidently as she didn’t encounter opposition. The air became steadily colder as she descended, counting the steps as she went. There were far more here than from the kitchen to the great hall, and Rhiann guessed that wherever she was going was substantially deeper into the earth. After at least forty steps, a landing appeared. She stepped onto it and turned, to find herself in the dungeons of Caer Dathyl.

Rhun, Taliesin, and Siawn looked up as she entered, each locked in a separate cell. Unfortunately, three soldiers guarded them. One slept, but the other two were dicing at a table. Rhiann caught their attention the moment she appeared. In unison, their jaws dropped. One stood and stumbled backwards, knocking over his chair. Like Teregad, he pointed at her silently, mouth working but with no sound coming out.

“M-m-my lady,” he tried.

Rhiann tipped her chin at the cell doors. “Release the prisoners.”

“B-b-but my lady,” the same man protested. “Y-y-your son ordered that they remain locked up until he could speak with them.”

“I have dealt with my son,” Rhiann said, going with whatever strange illusion they were seeing instead of her. Perhaps they were poisoned; perhaps all the men in the fort were incapacitated in some way. Rhiann didn’t care. She needed her friends free.

The second man swung his head from side to side, rhythmically. “No, no, no, no.” He looked at Rhiann and she met his eyes. “I killed you!” His breath came in gasps. “I buried you myself!”

“I know,” Rhiann said. “And there is a special place in Annwn waiting for you when you die.”

Meanwhile, the first guard had obeyed Rhiann and unlocked each of the cells, freeing Rhiann’s friends. Rhiann spoke again in case their presence would break the spell sooner than she wanted. “We are leaving now,” she said to the guards. “Do not follow us.”

At that instant, the sleeping guard woke up. Rhiann just happened to be standing less than three feet from him, and when he saw her, he squawked and fell over backwards. “The Queen!”

At the guard’s exclamation, Taliesin seemed to grow taller and definitely more menacing. “Perhaps you’d be safer in one of the cells.”

The men took it as an order, which was as Taliesin had intended. With yet another anxious look at Rhiann, they filed into the cell that Rhun had just left. Siawn pushed the door closed and locked it.

“What is going on?” Rhun said.

“I am very clever,” Taliesin said, releasing an understated, but very pleased-with-himself chuckle.

“That’s the illusion, isn’t it?” Rhiann said, finally able to put into words what the soldiers must have thought. “They see me as King Iaen’s dead wife? Siawn’s mother?” Rhiann turned with alarm to Siawn. “I don’t look like your mother to you, though, do I?”

“No,” he said. He’d gone dead white. “But it seems Teregad had her killed too. How many more deaths must we lay at his feet?”

“Not ours at least.” Rhun had been looking around the guardroom and gave a grunt of satisfaction as he found what he was looking for. He strode to a cabinet set against one wall and opened it. “As I hoped.” He reached in and pulled out his own sword, which the guards had taken from him when they put him in the cell, and buckled it on.

Taliesin moved up beside him and sighed happily. His staff was there too. He hefted it and it glowed in his hand briefly before dimming. Then Rhun pulled out a bow and quiver and handed them to Rhiann. By some miracle, the bow wasn’t enormous. Rhiann hefted it, sizing it up.

“Are there bowstrings?” she said.

Rhun rummaged at the bottom of the cupboard and pulled out a coiled length. Then he tossed a sheathed sword to Siawn, who drew it out and studied it.

“It’s been a while,” he said, “and I was never very good at sword play, which is why my father chose me for the Church.”

“Time to get good, quickly,” said Rhun.

Siawn gave him a wry smile. “That sounds likely,” he said, under his breath.

Rhiann buckled the quiver onto her back somewhat awkwardly, since the cloak wasn’t designed to be worn with it, and opted to carry the bow in her hand, rather than sliding it into place on her back.

“Let’s go.” Rhun headed towards the stairs with the rest following closely. He took the steps two at a time and Rhiann lifted her skirts to copy him, Siawn and Taliesin dogging her heels.

“We need to move fast,” Taliesin said from behind Rhiann. “We need to find the passage to Arawn’s lair. I feel as if Cadwaladr is in need of help.”

“I already found it.” Rhiann reached the top step and put out a hand to grab the back of Rhun’s jersey to stop him from charging off across the great hall.

Rhun swung around. “You did?”

“You did?” Taliesin appeared out of the stairwell. His bright eyes revealed that he was in high good humor, reminding Rhiann of when she’d first met him at Dinas Emrys. He looked like he was about to break into song and she dearly hoped he was going to be able to restrain himself.

“It was in Teregad’s bedroom, as you guessed, Siawn,” Rhiann said.

The companions crossed the hall without incident and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The bedroom was as Rhiann had left it, the door still ajar. Rhun strode past her to the stone door and pushed it all the way open.

“Looks like fun.” He peered down the stairwell and then turned to Siawn. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“No.” Siawn moved to stand beside him and looking down the stairs too.

“Is there any reason why we shouldn’t follow the stairs?” Rhiann said.

“Lots of reasons,” Rhun said, “but do we have a choice?”

“No time like the present.” Taliesin had been standing by the entrance to the room, but now closed the door and pulled the string through the latch so nobody could open it easily from the outside. “I don’t want anyone coming in behind us, and I don’t want to get stranded somewhere with no way to get back.”

“Lead on, Taliesin.” Rhun gave him a short bow.

The little light on the end of Taliesin’s staff appeared again. He entered the stairwell, followed by Rhiann, Siawn, and Rhun bringing up the rear. Down and down they went, the stairs spiraling endlessly. After what must have been nearly two hundred steps, Taliesin stopped. Rhiann bumped into his back in her surprise.

“Sshh,” he said, one hand on the wall to maintain his balance.

Rhiann listened hard. She could hear water dripping down the walls on either side, and her companions stirring, breathing shallowly so as to hear better themselves. Then, under the sound of the water, came a very distant clashing; then, more loudly, a shout.

“Cade!” Rhiann knew instantly that it was his voice she heard.

Taliesin was already moving. Still in single file, the companions ran down the rest of the stairs, nearly skidding off them with each step since the treads were wet. Rhiann hiked up her dress, holding the hem up awkwardly because she still had her bow in her left hand. She was regretting that she was wearing it, even though the costume had saved them—twice—that night.

At last they reached the bottom of the stairs, which emptied out into a small cave. The ceiling was low, only a few inches above the top of Taliesin’s head, and a dozen feet across. Another opening lay on the far wall and Taliesin trotted to it.

The others followed him, but he signaled for them to stay behind him. Behind Rhiann, Rhun bounced up and down with impatience. “Can’t we just go?”

“I’m not so sure if you could see what I can you’d think that was such a great idea,” Taliesin said.

“Let me see, then!” Rhun said.

In the end, they all looked. Before them lay an enormous cavern that stretched fifty yards long and at least that deep. They perched on a ledge, fifteen feet above the cavern floor. Cade, Goronwy, Dafydd, and Hywel were opposite them, pressed against a far wall, in mortal combat with a dozen ... others.

Cade was attempting to fight four at once. His elbow snapped into one demon’s nose, while at the same time he slashed sideways with his sword to parry another’s attack. He then leapt forward to drive his foot into the midsection of a third, who fell backwards into the arms of the fourth.

“It looks like Cade should have waited for us,” Rhun said to nobody in particular.

Rhiann stepped from behind Taliesin and onto the ledge, pulling an arrow from her quiver as she did so. Without discussion or waiting for permission, forcing herself to concentrate and not shake, fear for Cade’s life a hair’s breadth from overwhelming her, she pressed the first arrow into the bow and loosed it. It struck one of the demons that Dafydd was fighting in the back of the neck and he went down. Dafydd froze for a heartbeat, but then seeing his opponent on the ground, visibly shrugged before turning to another demon on his left.

Rhiann picked her targets carefully, not wanting to hit any of her friends. She shot ten arrows in the time it took Rhun to swing himself over the edge of the ledge and jump to the cavern floor. By then, Cade, Dafydd, Hywel and Goronwy had defeated the rest of the demons. Rhun walked to where Cade stood, cleaning his sword with a shred of cloth. He wore a thick, green cloak he’d somehow acquired since Rhiann had last seen him.

The brothers clasped forearms and then turned to look up at Rhiann. The expression on Cade’s face was one of complete satisfaction, and Rhiann blushed when she realized that it wasn’t so much the fight he was thinking of, but her. Cade strode toward the ledge and when he reached a point just under it, he tilted his head to survey the distance to the ground.

“Do you think you can get down like Rhun did?” Cade said.

Siawn, Taliesin and Rhiann all stepped to the edge and peered over it. “It’s a long way,” Siawn said.

Taliesin stepped back quickly.

“You don’t like heights?” Cade said.

“It isn’t heights,” Taliesin said, “just heights with no railings or walls.”

“If you can hang over the ledge, even half-way, and let go, I can catch you,” Cade said.

Taliesin turned a greenish-yellow color.

“I’ll go first,” Rhiann said. “And then you can see that it’s not that hard.”

She knelt on the edge and handed her bow to Goronwy, who’d come to stand beside Cade, and then dropped her quiver. As the dress underneath her cloak had long since been ruined, she ignored the dust and dirt she was smearing onto her front and wiggled over the ledge in order to hang her feet down. There was still a long way to go.

“Let go, Rhiann,” Cade said.

She pushed off and Cade caught her. He was so rock solid that he didn’t even need to bend his knees—and maybe he held onto her for a moment longer than he had to.

“It’s easy, Taliesin,” Rhiann said. “Come on.”

Taliesin tossed his staff to Dafydd who caught it, and then he copied Rhiann. “May Bran protect me,” he said, as he carefully got down on his stomach and dangled his legs over the edge.

“This is a side of you I’ve not seen.” Cade grabbed Taliesin’s legs and dropped him gently to the ground.

Taliesin brushed himself off and took back his staff, still grumbling. “Who would have thought that I’d have to worry about heights when going underground?”

Goronwy patted him on the shoulder while Cade caught Siawn, and the reunited companions gathered together to confer.

“Do you think we have much farther to go?” Rhun said.

“No.” Cade gestured with his chin towards the rear of the cave, near where they’d been fighting. “A long passage lies behind a doorway that only I can see. I saw it just before we were set upon by those demons. We were trying to retreat down it when you appeared.”

“I don’t see it,” Rhiann said.

“You’re sure it’s there?” Dafydd said.

“It is,” Cade said. “And beyond it, I suspect, is what we’re looking for.”

“Arawn?” Rhiann said.

“At least Teregad,” Cade said. “I ... sensed him.”

“I know he came through here,” Rhiann said. “That’s how we found this passage. He was fleeing down it.”

“Fleeing?” Goronwy said. “You saw him, then?”

“Taliesin made Rhiann appear to him as the image of my dead mother,” Siawn said. “Teregad thought she’d come for retribution; punishment for bringing about her death.”

“Teregad has a lot to answer for,” Goronwy said. “And Mabon.”

“So they run to Arawn, the keeper of death,” Cade said. “How’s that for irony?”

“Are you ready to face him?” Taliesin studied Cade.

Cade squared his shoulders. “I am. My destiny lies on the other side of that door, and I will not reach it except to go through it.”

“We’ll be right behind you, brother,” Rhun said.

Cade surveyed his friends. “Thank you.” He turned and headed across the cavern floor, towards the far passage. He moved with that inhuman quickness Rhiann could never quite get used to. It had him nearing the tunnel entrance before any of the rest had taken more than two steps.

“Wait!” Rhiann said, before he could disappear inside the tunnel.

Cade stopped. Rhiann hadn’t meant to call to him, but something inside her told her that she couldn’t let him walk away from her into danger one more time. Not now. Not like that. Not without knowing if what she had seen in his eyes meant what she wanted it to mean. She wanted to cross the chasm that had separated them since before Dinas Emrys, and it felt that if she didn’t find out now, she might never have another chance.

Rhiann reached him, breathless, and stepped close, a hand on each of his arms, gripping him tightly. She tipped her head up to look into his face, and instantly lost herself in the bottomless blue of his eyes. Without having to ask, or speak, his hands went to her waist. The other men instantly found something else to talk about among themselves.

Cade was so very close.

“You called me cariad at Castle Ddu,” she said.

“I did.”

“You said you couldn’t have a wife. You told me not to hope.”

“I was trying to convince myself,” Cade said. “I shouldn’t allow myself to love a woman. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“But ... ” Rhiann was breathless again, but not from running. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“I love you. And I want you,” he said. “And I think I can make this work.”

Standing there, in the catacombs of Arawn, death just around the corner, joy filled Rhiann and she laughed. Cade slid his hands behind her back and pulled her to him.

“I love you,” Rhiann said. “I could no more stop loving you than stop breathing.”

“I don’t breathe, but I refuse to live even less of a life than Arianrhod has left me. These last weeks have shown me that.”

Rhiann reached up a hand, put it at the back of Cade’s neck, and pulled his head down so she could meet his lips with hers. Cade hugged her closer and she wrapped both arms around his neck.

He lifted her up so that she was at his eye level. “I could make a habit of this,” he said, after allowing her to come up for air.

“Is everyone watching us?” she said.

Cade glanced over at his men. “They are, although they’re trying not to. Taliesin is practically stamping with impatience.”

“Good,” Rhiann said. “Put me down, my lord. We have work to do.”

Cade did, though only after another kiss, prompting an unsubtle snort from Taliesin. They each took a step back, trying to regain their balance. Rhiann’s breathing hadn’t returned to normal and she wasn’t sure it ever would. Then Cade smiled, that same gorgeous smile he’d given her at Llanllugan, winked, and turned away. At his movement, the others sprang into action.

Rhun was first into the tunnel after Cade, followed by the others, each elbowing Rhiann out of the way as they passed her. “It’s for your own safety, Rhiann,” Dafydd said, running by.

“Wait!” Rhiann followed him into the tunnel. It extended forward twenty feet before it jagged to the right. Cade disappeared around the corner just ahead.

“Oof!” he said.

“What is it?” Rhun said, hurrying to keep up.

Taliesin and Dafydd were next, followed by Rhiann. When she turned the corner, she saw what had stopped Cade. He hovered in a high archway, pressing his hands against an invisible door that lead to another enormous cavern, unable to enter it without an invitation. Teregad and Mabon stood before them, along with a man—or being—

Rhiann didn’t recognize, but who could only be Arawn, Lord of the Underworld. He sat on a raised and magnificent golden throne, next to the black cauldron. His stare terrified Rhiann and she cowered behind Cade’s back. Sweet Mary! How are we to face him? Cade, however, stood tall and gazed straight ahead, head high and shoulders back.

“It is this for which I was born.” He pressed his hands against the unseen door. “And made.”

Chapter Ten

Cade

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CADE STOOD FLUSH AGAINST the barrier that prevented him from entering the cavern. At the sight of him, Arawn stood, still all in gray—and Cade hoped, more tangible. Arawn’s throne sat just to the right of the black cauldron, which was larger than Cade had imagined it might be, nearly ten feet in diameter. It crouched in the exact center of the cavern, on a large flat space supported by a stem of rock at its base, suspended before the companions like a royal serving platter. From it, smoke and fumes rose, although Cade couldn’t determine its contents.

With effort, praying that Rhiann was right and that it had nothing to do with him, he forced thoughts of Arianrhod and what she’d done to him from his mind and focused instead on the task before him.

At his feet lay a pit, at the bottom of which huddled a man. Although his back was to the companions, Cade recognized him.

Siawn gasped, knowing him too. “Gwyn!”

Although he could not move well and a blue chain tied him to the cauldron, Gwyn turned his head at his cousin’s voice and met Cade’s eyes. The sadness in them was unmistakable. Cade cursed under his breath, but could do nothing for him, not until he had dealt with Arawn who remained separated from Cade by twenty yards of nothingness. Teregad stood behind the throne, and at his side, Arawn’s son, Mabon. Neither Teregad nor Mabon looked nearly as happy to see Cade as Arawn, who’d been surveying Cade and now smiled.

“I am pleased to meet you in person at last,” he said. “I apologize for leaving so abruptly earlier, but I had some business that needed my attention.” He flicked his eyes towards Mabon and Teregad. Teregad took a step back, but Mabon merely glared at Cade.

Arawn’s evident displeasure at both of them pleased Cade. “I have a score to settle with those two cowards you’re protecting,” Cade said.

He still couldn’t get into the chamber and he leaned on the barrier, waiting, feeling the pressure of the spell that prevented him from reaching Arawn. Cade was used to encountering this sort of thing every time he tried to go into a place into which he hadn’t yet been invited. Demon lairs were usually not prohibited to him, however. He’d certainly been able to enter that first tunnel from the trail, after they’d killed the riders. Arawn, not surprisingly, was not ordinary, nor, in truth, a demon. He was sidhe.

Taliesin reached out a hand to press it against the empty space that was acting like a solid door for Cade. “It isn’t just you. It’s all of us.”

Then Arawn broke the spell. “Come in! Come in!” He waved Cade forward and the pressure on Cade’s forehead vanished. “You don’t need approval from me! You are Cadwaladr, the King of Gwynedd and heir to Arthur Pendragon.”

Cade stepped through the doorway, his confidence ebbing, knowing it had to be a trick, but not sure what that trick might be. Arawn was too jovial, too welcoming. With two more steps, he stood on a narrow ledge overlooking the chasm. The ledge extended in a full circle around the inner wall of the cavern, with a narrow extension leading from where Cade’s feet were planted to the place Arawn stood with the cauldron. Additional paths led from the side and rear walls to the center, forming the shape of a cross with the cauldron and Arawn in the center of it.

Arawn held his arms out wide. “Greetings, friend. Welcome to my domain.”

Cade wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything, just watched Arawn warily.

“So you defeated my troll, did you?” Arawn’s words filled the silence that had descended on the cavern. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t think so,” Cade said. “I don’t kill any creature unless I have to.”

Arawn laughed at that. “You think yourself so noble, Cadwaladr son of Cadwallon, even as you lie to yourself. You’re still trying to fill your father’s shoes, aren’t you? And failing, I might add.”

“Just like Mabon has failed you,” Cade said.

That brought a pout to Mabon’s face, but he was behind his father who didn’t see it. By now Cade’s companions had filed into the cavern behind him and were spread out along the ledge on either side of him. Cade felt Rhiann standing just to his right.

“Don’t listen to him,” Rhun said from beyond her. “He’s powerful, but not wise.”

“Silence!” Arawn roared and sent a shaft of light from his hand like an arrow from a bow directly to Rhun’s midsection. It hit him full on and he doubled over, coughing up blood. Cade ran to him and wrapped his arms around Rhun’s shoulders.

“Grasp the hilt of Caledfwlch,” Cade said in a low voice, just by Rhun’s ear. “Stay down, though. I don’t want Arawn to know you aren’t dying.”

Rhun collapsed to his knees and Cade went with him. Rhun coughed again, and then lay on his right side. Rhiann crouched behind him, despair in her eyes. Cade hated to see it, but could give her nothing beyond words to comfort her.

“It’s going to be all right.” He believed it, but he would have lied through his teeth if he thought it would help either of them survive what was coming.

Rhun nodded. “I’m good. It already doesn’t hurt anymore.” He held onto Caledfwlch for another count of ten, and then released the hilt. In his other hand, he held not his sword, but an ornate dagger. It was the one he’d meant to throw at Mabon at Caer Ddu, but had never released. Rhun clutched it, his knuckles white around the hilt, and perhaps, like Caledfwlch, it was helping him too.

Cade stood up and turned back to Arawn. “That makes you wise? Killing one of my companions?”

Arawn sent another shaft of light, this time at Cade. He dodged it and it hit the wall behind him, sending a spray of stones to the floor. “Very good.” Arawn lowered his arm. “You’ve earned the right to live a little longer. So tell me, what exactly do you think you’re doing here?”

“I intend to stop you from releasing your demons,” Cade said. “I intend to send you where you cannot harm my people.”

Arawn laughed. “Really? And how are you going to do that? I am not alive! I rule the Underworld! It is not possible for a human to defeat me.”

“I think it is,” Cade said.

Arawn sneered. “I admit it surprises me that you made it this far, but you humans are fated to fall at my feet and beg for your lives; every single one of you.”

Cade shook his head. “Even if I lose my life here, another will come who will stop you—one who fears you no more than I.”

Arawn smiled, his expression gentle. “But you do fear death, Cadwaladr. All humans do. The cauldron might close, you may prevent me from releasing my demons, but me,” Arawn shook his head, “me you will never stop.”

“I must try,” Cade said.

“Yes.” Arawn heaved a huge sigh. “I suppose that is true. My friends, Cadwaladr is determined to sacrifice you.” Arawn gestured to Cade’s companions, prompting Cade to glance at Rhiann who stood on the far side of the unmoving Rhun. She’d clenched her fist around her bow which she held upright in front of her, and she had an arrow pressed into it. The others had their swords in their hands.

“We might as well get it over with,” Arawn continued. “I thought at least you’d bring one of your lesser gods, or perhaps that magician there, to be your champion.” Arawn pointed his finger at Taliesin, and with a sharp crack, his staff lay splintered at his feet.

“You can do this, Cadwaladr,” Taliesin said from behind him. “You don’t need me anymore: Cadwaladr will come from concealment; he will bring with him blood, battle, and strife. Far his armies will ride, a triumph to the Cymry.”

Cade stepped onto the narrow bridge that separated him from Arawn. As he paced along it, the others slowly circled the walls. Dafydd grunted as he navigated around an obstructing rock that hindered his passage. Arawn watched them, still an amused expression on his face, and then waved a hand. In a flash, a dozen demons leapt from the cauldron, landing in a crouch in the space in front of it. Each then prepared itself for another leap and sprang across the chasm to land on the ledge that hugged the wall.

Cade raised his voice so that it echoed throughout the cavern. “Are you afraid to fight me without the help of your minions? Are you as cowardly as that?”

Deeming that the time was right, he drew Caledfwlch. It lit like a torch in his hand and the sidhe power surged within Cade, feeding the brilliant white light than shone through it instead of him.

At the sight of the sword, Arawn held out both hands from his body and the demons stopped. It was as if he was a puppeteer to them, which perhaps he was. “So you carry Caledfwlch and it allows you to wield it. Mabon warned me you’d taken it. You are correct that it is the only sword that can harm me. But I think you have not reckoned on this.” Arawn reached down to his side to the hilt of his sword and drew out the brand. As he held it up, orange fire lit the length of the blade.

Cade took a step backwards, unable to help his reaction. What man didn’t know of Dyrnwyn, the sword of the white hilt? It could be drawn only by a worthy man, and a lesser one would find himself burned by it. That Arawn carried it was daunting to say the least, and Cade hoped that Arawn could carry it because he was a god, not because his cause was just.

Arawn smiled again. Drawing himself up, he seemed to grow taller, his shadow reflecting all the way to the cavern’s ceiling. “You think you can close the cauldron?”

“Yes.” Cade threw himself forward, heedless of the narrowness of the walkway.

In two strides, he was close enough to strike at Arawn and brought Caledfwlch down upon Dyrnwyn. The weapons met with a sharp clang, white merging with orange as they clashed. Encouraged, deciding that the fire was merely an illusion meant to frighten, Cade pressed Arawn again. They fought around the cauldron and across the great rock that supported it, first Arawn giving way and then Cade.

“You’re quite strong, for a human,” Arawn said.

“You’re not as strong as I expected, for so powerful a god.” Cade brought Caledfwlch down hard with a sharp crack near the hilt of Arawn’s sword.

Arawn sneered, although a hint of concern showed in his eyes—far more than when he’d laughed at Cade earlier. Emboldened, Cade ducked under Arawn’s next swing and made a stab for his midsection. At the last instant, Arawn twisted out of the way, moving so fast even Cade nearly missed it. Arawn’s abilities, other than the flaming sword, were much like Cade’s.

With that thought, that sudden knowledge, everything that had happened to Cade over the last two years fell into place. He now knew all he needed to know about Arianrhod’s intentions, and why she’d made him. This fight—this chance to stop Arawn—was the reason she’d called him forth to be her champion. Sure now that victory was possible, else Arianrhod would not have created him at all, Cade fought on. He and Arawn with their blazing swords drove back and forth across the platter of stone, first one gaining an advantage and then the other.

“Look to your footing, Cadwaladr.” Taliesin spoke from somewhere near the cavern entrance.

As if spurred on by Taliesin’s call, Arawn began to fight with a flurry of strokes. Cade parried his blows, but the power of Arawn’s assault forced him backwards towards the edge of the platter and away from the cauldron. Fire shot from Dyrnwyn, throwing sparks to the ceiling of the cavern, which then cascaded all around him and his companions. Although he tried not to allow them to distract him, it was hard to concentrate solely on Arawn and his constantly moving sword. Cade tightened his grip on Caledfwlch, knowing that he might not be afraid of dying himself, but he was very afraid for his friends.

“You have much to lose,” Arawn said.

“Do I?” Cade countered another blow, terrified that Arawn really could read his mind, and it wasn’t just a lucky guess.

“The price to defeat me may be more than you’re willing to pay.”

Cade took a step back, feeling for his footing as Taliesin had warned. For a fleeting moment, his boot wavered on the uneven surface and with that instant of weakness, Arawn pounced. Bringing his sword under Cade’s guard, he shoved it through the left side of Cade’s belly. Cade heard someone scream and hoped it wasn’t him.

Rhiann.

Cade’s throat filled with blood, and he couldn’t speak to reassure her that he was fine. He grunted and fell to his knees. Arawn released Dyrnwyn’s hilt and stepped back while Cade swayed and leaned forward. A cascade of fire like molten metal poured through him, filling him with an intensity of pain unlike anything he could have imagined. Cade dropped Caledfwlch and scrabbled at Dyrnwyn’s hilt with both hands, trying to pull it from him.

“No!” That was Dafydd. He ran along the walkway that led from the rear of the cavern to the cauldron, slashing at two demons as he did so. He skidded to a halt in front of Cade while Arawn took several more steps backwards, laughing, deigning to give the boy room.

“My lord!” Tears streamed down Dafydd’s face. “What can I do?”

“Pull the sword from me,” Cade said.

“I am not worthy, my lord,” Dafydd said. “It will not let me.”

“Do it,” Cade said. “I say you are worthy of it. Don’t you dare fail me.”

His jaw set, the mental effort involved in reaching out his hand to Cade etching lines in his face, Dafydd grasped the hilt of Arawn’s sword. With a mighty heave, Dafydd drew the sword from Cade’s belly, staggered back, and dropped the sword to the stones. He held his hands out, palms upward. They remained unmarked. A moment later, Goronwy and Hywel reached Dafydd.

“Cade—” Goronwy stared at him as he took Dafydd by the shoulders and pulled him away—always the big brother, trying to keep his younger brother safe. Arawn, meanwhile, stood unmoving, gaping at Cade with one arm outstretched as if still trying to hold him off, although they were a dozen paces apart.

At first Cade thought Goronwy and Arawn were reacting to the amount of blood that had poured from his body. Then he noted Caledfwlch on the ground in front of him. And he knew. Its loss, coupled with his utter lack of control in this moment of extreme duress, had released the power within him. Light shot from every pore, unchecked, illumining him with the same grace that encircled both Mabon and Arawn—and Arianrhod when he’d seen her.

“It’s all right.” Cade tried to reassure his friends. His left hand in his wound, staunching the flow of blood that had already stopped, he reached for Caledfwlch. Cade grasped the handle, grateful for the rush of calm it brought him, and used the sword to lever himself to his feet. Cade’s power flooded from him into it, and the blade shone in his hand, a true counter to the flames of Dyrnwyn that Arawn had tried to use against him.

Arawn still hadn’t moved and, because he hadn’t, Cade leaned down and picked up Dyrnwyn with his blood covered left hand. The sword stung his palm for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to accept its new master, but as Cade gripped it tighter, the sensation faded. Cade straightened and looked at Arawn.

The god gazed back, his face drawn and so white he was nearly translucent. He pointed his finger at Cade. “You are sidhe!”

“Indeed I am.”

“It isn’t possible!”

“Isn’t it?”

Resignation crossed Arawn’s face, replacing shock. With a push of his arm, he shot an arrow of light at Cade. Instead of dodging it, Cade blocked it with Dyrnwyn, and it ricocheted off the blade, reflecting the light towards the wall of the cavern. The burst of energy hit just above a demon’s head, and the rock shattered, sending fragments exploding outward.

“Try that again, and I’ll bring the whole place down on you.” Cade took a step toward Arawn, which the god countered by stepping backwards to match him. For the first time, the cauldron loomed behind Arawn. Cade turned all of his attention towards getting him into it. Below the ledge, Gwyn’s frightened face stared up at Cade, his brown eyes wide. Even Rhun was on his feet again not far away, riveted by what was happening between Cade and Arawn.

Arawn held out both hands now and sent a second force of light towards Cade. This time, Cade crossed both swords and felt the power move over and around him. A demon shriek came from behind him.

“You’re one of my people.” Arawn took another step away from Cade. “Why are you doing this?”

“I am not one of you,” Cade said. “You use your power to create chaos; for no other reason than because you can. You seek to please your amoral child and his evil friends.” Cade gestured with Dyrnwyn towards Teregad, who stood frozen on the edge of the plateau without even a sword.

“I can offer you anything you want,” Arawn said.

Cade shook his head. One more step and he would be able to send Caledfwlch through Arawn. “There is nothing you have that I need.”

A crafty look appeared on Arawn’s face. “If you’re sidhe, and yet still human, then you are without your soul. That, at least, I can give back to you.” He indicated a chest set underneath his throne. “I’m sure I could find it in there, somewhere.”

Cade hesitated and a grin spread across Arawn’s face.

“And what would you ask in return?” Cade said.

“That you leave this place.”

Cade swallowed hard. “You’d just let me go? I could turn around and walk out of here with my companions and everything could go back to the way it was except I’d have my soul back?”

“Yes,” Arawn said, “Along with all the earthly power you desire. I offer you that.”

“Your son already did, and I turned him down,” Cade said. “What makes you think I’ll take your offer now?”

“Because I hold your woman hostage.” Arawn gestured behind him. Mabon stepped out from behind a boulder, Rhiann in front of him, a knife to her throat. Cade and she stared at each other across the cavern. Her chin was up because the knife was pressed against her skin, but she wouldn’t have been one to lower it anyway.

“Is that what we want, Rhiann?” Cade kept his voice even, despite the fear for her that clogged his throat.

“I love you, Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon.”

“That’s all I need to know.” Cade dropped Dyrnwyn.

Arawn grinned and stepped towards Cade his arms spread wide as if to embrace him. Focusing not on Arawn’s eyes but on his chest, Cade took one step forward and shoved Caledfwlch through Arawn’s heart. Arawn’s eyes bugged out, stunned, and then he began a high keening wail that shook the cavern. At that same instant, Rhiann slumped out of Mabon’s arms as if in a faint. Mabon reached for her, but Rhun whipped his knife across the cavern and caught Mabon in the throat.

Cade pulled Caledfwlch from Arawn’s body, picked him up, and threw him into the cauldron.

Arawn’s wail continued throughout his long descent to Annwn. Anxious to leave as quickly as possible, now that their task looked done, Cade turned to swing Caledfwlch at the chain that held Gwyn to the cauldron. The link split with one blow and Gwyn staggered forward onto his hands and knees.

“We need to get out of here, now!” Cade reached down to haul Gwyn up, onto the platform on which the cauldron rested.

Gwyn struggled to his feet and straightened. “I can’t.” Despite everything he’d seen and endured, his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Cade looked Gwyn up and down. Although his clothes were torn, his body was completely undamaged by his incarceration, with neither cuts nor bruises.

“I have worn the blue chain,” he said. “Whether or not you release me from it, I am tied forever to the cauldron.”

Cade gaped at him. “What?”

“You’ve given everything in service to your people. Will you begrudge me anything less?” Again, Gwyn met Cade’s eyes, and Cade saw something there—something he recognized as acceptance of his fate. Cade, of all people, could appreciate the courage that took.

“Stay here, then,” Cade said. “You must ensure that Arawn never rises from the cauldron again. You are the Guardian of the Underworld now.”

Then, without even bothering with the walkways, Cade coiled his body and leapt across the pit that separated him from Rhiann. She hadn’t fainted, of course, but had taken advantage of Mabon’s inattention to twist away from him. Now, it was Mabon who lay on his back in the crevice from which he’d appeared, Rhun’s knife upright in his throat. He looked dead, and Cade wondered if it was possible for Mabon to die, any more than his father could.

Teregad had run to Mabon after Rhun had thrown the knife, but when he saw Cade coming, he retreated into the crevice behind Mabon. Siawn was already on him, however, racing past Cade to follow his brother. Cade was glad to put thoughts of Teregad aside because he didn’t have enough interest in him to chase him anymore.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around Rhiann. “Are you sorry I turned down Arawn’s offer?”

“No. You defeated him because of what you are. I know that.”

“I was hoping you understood what I was going to do.”

“You did exactly right,” Rhiann said. “You needed to make the choice you did.”

“I do believe Arawn would have kept his bargain, though,” Cade said.

“What are you saying? He would have given you earthly power? You hardly need him for that.”

“No. He would have given me back my soul.”

“Cade.” Rhiann stroked a stray hair off his forehead and rested her hand against his cheek. “He wasn’t going to give you your soul back.”

“You think he lied?”

“No. I think you never lost it.”

Just then, Arawn’s wail ceased, the sudden silence weighing heavily on the air and hanging in the cavern for a several heartbeats, like an invisible fog. Then a drumming sound began, coming from deep beneath the stones. Cade swung around, seeing Rhun on his feet across the cavern. Goronwy had his arm around Dafydd’s shoulders, and Hywel and Taliesin stood side by side, each with a piece of Taliesin’s staff in his hand. A rushing wind swirled around them. As Cade spun to look back at the cauldron, it released a flash of light that blinded him. He pressed Rhiann’s face into his chest and tried to cover his eyes with his free hand.

His ears exploded with a sound of a thousand drums. And then all was quiet.

* * * * *

CADE OPENED HIS EYES. Above him, the moon lit up the night and the sky was free of even one cloud to block the diamond brilliance of the stars. He stared upwards for ten of Rhiann’s heartbeats before he realized that Rhiann was with him. Her head rested on his belly, just above the wound that he could no longer feel. She was asleep and breathing easily.

Cade pushed up onto one elbow to survey the area around him. They lay in a normal camp, with a central fire that burned brightly, newly stoked with logs. All about the fire sprawled his companions from the cavern, still asleep as Rhiann was. A slight mist hovered above the grass, making him think morning was not far off.

Something moved across the meadow, past the fire and his sleeping friends. He gently eased Rhiann off of him and onto the blanket. Thinking of the demons who’d left Caer Dathyl and still hadn’t been caught, Cade got to his feet. Just as he straightened, a woman appeared, coalescing out of the mist. She came to stand on the edge of the ring of light thrown out by the fire. At the sight of her, Cade froze.

Arianrhod. The triple goddess. Unwilling consort to Arawn. Mother of Mabon. Cade opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Instead, Arianrhod held out her hands to him and smiled, her eyes lit with pleasure and joy. “Thank you.” The words seemed to come from all around Cade, everywhere at once. “You have done far better than I ever could have expected or even hoped. Thank you for doing what I could not.”

Cade cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“You have banished Arawn,” she said. “You have closed the cauldron. You have given me peace.”

“I—” Cade began.

“I know you did not do it for me,” Arianrhod said, not giving him a chance to speak. “I know you have cursed me since I changed you in that cave. I do not ask for your understanding, or for your forgiveness. I ask only that you accept a small token of my thanks.”

Cade bowed, unsure of what she meant, but finding that his anger and questions had evaporated in her presence. “I’m sorry about your son.”

She smiled. “He too is at peace and has been returned to me.”

That gave Cade a moment’s pause, but Arianrhod didn’t give him time to think. She put her hands together as if in prayer. “I honor you, Cadwaladr, High King and Pendragon of Wales.” She bowed at the waist and straightened. Then she put her right hand to her lips palm upward, and blew him a kiss.

It blew over him—and through him—

Cade was watching her closely, but between one instant and the next, she disappeared, leaving him wondering if she’d actually ever been there. He gazed at the space she’d occupied, stunned to have heard that speech from her and overcome with the realization that if his actions had given her peace, her words had set him free.

He could both understand her, and forgive her.

When Cade was sure that she would not return, he eased down to the blanket, reaching for Rhiann and pulling her into his arms. As he lay there with her, measuring and thoughtful, no internal alarm was raised, no irrepressible power overwhelmed him. He could feel the power of the sidhe inside him, but it was contained, quiescent.

Wondering now, knowing something wasn’t right, Cade felt at his waist. Caledfwlch was absent. Fear surged through him and he jerked upright, half-rising from the ground. His sword lay on the edge of the blanket two feet away, the belt wrapped around the scabbard. Cade stared at it, at first disbelieving, and then his heart soared, relief surging through him, coupled by joy and certainty. Sure now of what Arianrhod’s gift had been, he lay back and pulled Rhiann closer.

Rhiann snuggled into him and woke, just a little bit. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Cade said. “Go back to sleep.” He felt the calm beating of her heart, although she could not feel his and never would. Then, Cade closed his eyes himself.

And slept.