The Dark Thorn (45 page)

“And to you, Grallic of the Grastolls.”

Grallic gave Snedeker a dark look before flying around the Rhedewyr and heading toward the Carn Cavall. The swarm followed their leader. After a few moments, they vanished as though they never had been.

“What was that about, Snedeker?” Bran asked. “You told me the Firewillows came after you. You never told me why your clan kicked you out.”

The fairy crossed his arms and ignored the question.

“He has never told me either,” Deirdre said. “Says it is none of my business.”

“Pigcrack right, it’s not!” Snedeker shot back.

“I bet more than anything that this fairy deserved being kicked out of his clan,” Richard said. “Guide or no guide, sent by the Lady or not, when it is their neck on the line, a fairy will never do what is right or courageous. Remember that, Bran.”

Snedeker looked away into the distance, ignoring the knight.

Richard clicked Lyrian forward. The others followed. The plains grew humid as early afternoon pressed in. They passed down the length of the Tawy River, the waterway wider than the Tywi River but slower moving through the grasslands. The odors of the plains mixing with the musk of the horses settled in Deirdre’s nose. Sweat trickled into her clothing, uncomfortably, but it was the burn that worsened, the heat from the fire seared into her feverish body. She kept a wary eye on the horizon, dreading what it may bring. A sporadic crow or prairie falcon circled, the only life they had seen beyond the fairies.

Arrow Jack kept to himself, an untiring scout. As the day’s light purpled into sunset, the tall golden grass receded slowly and became greener, hearkening a new change to the land.

When the emerald smudge of Dryvyd Wood had devoured half the sun, Deirdre brought Willowyn alongside Lyrian.

“What is your world like, Rick?”

Richard raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. “The only word I can think of is
busy
,” he answered. “It is filled with people rushing from home to work and back again. It isn’t like Annwn, where people live off of the land—maybe it used to be a thousand years ago, but no longer. Magic has no place there, as it so obviously does here, and machines are everywhere. Everything happens at such a fast pace that often people of my world don’t appreciate what they’ve just passed. People don’t believe in…any of this.” He waved his arm around. “Annwn is a myth only found in Arthurian tales and other such stories.”

“The Forever King,” Deirdre said. “
Not
a myth. We still recount the history behind his war with the Mordred, Medraut, and his other exploits in the Misty Isles. The people of your world seem to have a hard time believing things they cannot see.”

“Very true.”

“Sounds scary,” she said. “I could not live that way.”

“I used to be like them,” Richard said. “Before Myrddin Emrys ruined my life, I was a student at a university. He proved those legends to be all too true. Now a day doesn’t pass that I wish I could still be ignorant like the rest in my world.”

Deirdre turned away. “Do you have a…woman?”

Richard looked away, the line along his jaw hardening. “Once I did,” he said simply. “Long ago.”

“What happened to her?” she asked.

Richard ignored the question. Deirdre thought he was avoiding it—and maybe he was—until she realized his interest in the horizon. In the distance, a column of diffuse gray smoke broadened toward the cloudless sky. She knew what it likely signaled and its frightening import.

“What is it? A wildfire?” Bran questioned.

“No, a far worse animal,” Richard said. “See how the column has such a wide base?”

Bran nodded.

“That is smoke from hundreds of cook fires,” Deirdre said. “And thousands more men sitting around them.”

Arrow Jack cruised overhead, screeching, to land on a blasted tree in front of them.

Richard pointed out what the merlin warned. Just over the top of the plains, giant pointed structures of white, gold, and crimson erupted from the far-off line of emerald grass, their total height lost in the distance. They were the top of massive tents. War tents, Deirdre knew. The tents, coupled with the smoke, indicated what the Seelie Court and its allies were getting into.

“What are they for?” Bran asked.

“Tournament tents,” Deirdre replied. “For the games of jousting and arms Philip is fond of watching. It is how he picks his guard.”

“No longer,” Richard disagreed. “That time has come and gone. Philip has chosen his men and they now cover the plains, waiting for whatever he has planned. Smoke that thick only comes from an enormous host, and we must give it a wide berth.”

“If what you think is true and the numbers are that large, then Philip has amassed all of Annwn to Caer Llion,” Deirdre surmised. “They could not have come from southern Annwn alone. The men of the northern cities have joined him here. Philip must be planning a battle of epic proportions to empty his strongholds in the north.”

“Why no scouts?” Bran asked.

“You don’t need scouts when an army is as large as that one.” Richard squinted. “It seems we best turn westward.”

The tents faded from view as they headed for the border of Dryvyd Wood, avoiding the pillar of smoke. The last dregs of the day swathed them in stale light, and the promise of night solidified as they continued to ride south and west. Insects buzzed and sang to one another, an old song for a new night. Salted air like that found on the coast washed over them suddenly on a soft breeze, reminding Deirdre of trips to the ocean when her mother still lived. Stars twinkled into being. The coming night would be pleasant; it would help her forget the pain that ravaged every jostle upon Willowyn.

Regardless, she kept an eye to the east where the smoke faded into darkness; it was hard to believe a host as large and lethal as the one she knew existed waited mere miles away.

When they crested a rolling hill, even Deirdre, who had been raised around hosts of men, was ill prepared for the sight.

Caer Llion unfolded like a dark promise, a monolithic structure lording over the group from a purpling horizon. Dozens of towers stabbed the sky, connected by numerous parapets at varying levels, and a high wall as tall as Mochdrev Reach protected its innards, unyielding. Rectangles of yellow light flickered from top rooms, alive with inhabitants. At the castle’s base, a town of smaller buildings spread like beggars before a king, pushing up against the wall as if in need. To the north, hundreds and hundreds of giant campfires danced until they vanished over a rise where more assuredly awaited and each undoubtedly had dozens of men surrounding them. It was an awe-inspiring, terrible sight.

“Caer Llion,” Richard said.

“Now what?” Bran asked.

Richard dismounted. “Time we leave Deirdre. And time for
me
to find our way in.”

“How are you going to do that?” Deirdre asked.

“I am the Heliwr.”

“So?”

“Once, in the early days when Bran’s father was the Heliwr, a banshee slipped by me and into Seattle,” Richard said. “Charles found a patch of bare earth and jammed the Dark Thorn into it. After a few moments he came out of his reverie and knew the direction the woman had gone, up toward Capitol Hill. It didn’t take him long but he found her and ended her threat.” Richard paused. “I have that same power. To find things hidden from me. Like an entrance. Like a creature. Like an artifact. As long as they aren’t masked by magic. I only hope I am capable of doing it and that Philip has not guarded his entrances with spells.”

“At least we aren’t going through the front gate,” Bran mumbled. “That would seem to be pretty asinine, if I do say so.”

“I agree,” Deirdre said. “The front is no good.”

“Something else then,” Richard said. “If I find an entrance.”

“I am going with you, Heliwr,” Snedeker said.

“You cannot,” Richard responded. “Caer Llion has been warded by a series of curse tablet spells for centuries, placed at intervals in its walls. These won’t allow Tuatha de Dannan entrance. How do you think the fey folk haven’t been able to infiltrate and end the reign of the king? They can’t. The moment one does, Philip is alerted. So no, not going to happen, fairy.”

“Now, listen here, thornstick,” Snedeker said. “I do not pla—”

“We’ll be back soon,” Richard said to Deirdre, ignoring the fairy.

Conflicting emotions warred in Deirdre. A part of her wanted to go and aid the knights despite no one caring for the Rhedewyr. Another part of her knew she would be worthless as a companion due to her throbbing burn and fever that grew within her.

“Be quick,” she pleaded simply.

“Travel west to the outskirts of Dryvyd Wood. Hide just within the trees. It isn’t far. Care for the animals,” Richard said. “We won’t be long. Bran, with me.”

Bran gave Deirdre an encouraging smile before Richard traveled into the shadow toward the great castle, Arrow Jack disappearing in the distance with them. Soon Deirdre was alone with Snedeker to locate where their camp would be that night.

“You should have told me about guiding the Heliwr, Snedeker,” she said, still a bit rankled the fairy hadn’t shared everything.

“It felt…wrong, Red,” Snedeker said. “The Lady would not have approved.”

“So now you grow mindful of others’ feelings?”

Snedeker turned away from her, as he always did when he didn’t want to talk. Deirdre returned the favor. After a long walk she settled on a spot where several fir trees and mulberry bushes hid them from the plains. She cared for Willowyn and the others. She undid her bedroll. It would be a cool night, but she knew she couldn’t build a fire. With the stars winking overhead and Snedeker a faint outline on a branch above, Deirdre rolled into her bed the best she could given her wounds and stared up at the heavens.

“You like him a great deal, do you not?” the fairy said.

“Who?”

“The Heliwr. Richard McAllister. I have never seen you like this. You stare at him constantly. You act like you have never seen a man before.”

“I guess I like him. Yes. I do.”

“Ardall does not like that,” the fairy said. “Not one bit.”

“The boy is infatuated, nothing more.”

“Like you?”

Deirdre lay there, thinking. He had a point. She had tried to kiss Richard only to have him pull away. She had asked questions and received short answers. She had left her duty as lady of Mochdrev Reach in favor of helping Richard complete his role, and he hadn’t so much as asked or said thank you. Bran Ardall had called him a broken man; Deirdre had said he wouldn’t always be. Did she know that for sure? She could not help being drawn to him, but was it too much to hope that he would be whole again? What would it take for that to happen?

Could the shade of her mother have been wrong?

Could Deirdre?

“Red,” Snedeker hissed. “Listen.”

Deirdre broke her reverie, straining to hear what Snedeker did.

“I hear nothing,” she said.

Then she felt it. It wasn’t so much a sound as it was a periodic trembling in the ground. Something approached, something big, moving toward them from deep within the heart of the wild Dryvyd Forest. She got out of her bedroll and slid her sword free of its scabbard, backing against the tree Snedeker had taken as his bed. Long moments passed.

The shaking grew stronger until finally a rustle of limbs and movement gave way to reveal what approached. It stilled her breath. In the darkness she could just make out the outline of something mammoth, man shaped, far taller than she or any Fomorian she had seen, and as black as the night around it. Its features were hidden from her, the stars too weak, but the smell of fetid fish and oily tar came to her, pungent on the night air. Fear hammered through her veins but she held her ground, ready to give as good as she got.

“Lady Deirdre Rhys of Mochdrev Reach?”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Deirdre demanded, sword still held at the ready.

“We must speak, you and I,” the monstrosity rumbled gently. “And a fairer woman to talk with I have not met. The stars have aligned this night and I will certainly make the most of it.”

Deirdre already liked the newcomer.

“Why must we speak?”

“First, put that pig sticker away,” the hulk said. “Before I take it from you and make a beautiful woman look quite a fool.”

Richard strode through the darkness, Bran a mere step behind.

They had been walking for half an hour, the lay of the land easy to navigate even in the night. The last remnants of the day’s insects sang, the only witnesses to their passing. It was a gorgeous evening, the last colors of the sunset behind them, but Richard ignored all of it for the most part. What was to come sat tantamount in his mind; what was to come would require every magic ability he had learned over the years.

The memory of the attempted kiss by Deirdre distracted him, though, like a terrible thought that would not go away. The woman annoyed Richard. It had nothing to do with her specifically. Deirdre had shown herself to be an asset when it came to navigating Annwn, possessed of a keen intellect and a desire to see her future unfold as she wished, not what others wanted. Feisty in a way that Richard had lost with age, she hadn’t backed down from any fight. She could have any man she wished.