Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

Alaan came and crouched before Llya. “What you do is wrong.He’s only a child.”

“You never had faith in me, did you Sainth?” Llya saidsoftly.

“I had utter faith in you,” Alaan answered, “to do whateverserved you best.”

Tam thought Llya looked hurt by this, his eyes glistening. “Iwill go back into the river and, in time, the child who bears me might forgetthe memories I leave behind. Let us hope.” Llya took the stone from around hisneck and, with his small hands, placed the chain over Alaan’s head, then leanedforward and kissed him on both cheeks. “All the silent years we shared thisworld … How I regret them now.” Llya placed his hands on Alaan’s shoulders. “Youmust remake the spell. Mea’chi can never be unleashed upon the land of theliving.” He smiled sadly, too knowing by half, then turned to the others. “Leavethis place, and may you not come here again for many years.”

He went to Elise then and kissed her, then embraced hissister, though she seemed confused, unaware of who he might be. Releasing her,he waved a hand at the body of Wyrr. “My body must go back into the waters,” hesaid so softly Tam barely heard.

Llya stood a moment on the quay, gazing at Elise and Alaan,as though reluctant to let them go. Then he turned away and waded into thewaters, sinking quickly from sight. Tam stirred himself then and helped Alaanslip the body of Wyrr back into the water. The face of the ancient sorcererappeared so serene, as though he slept, and dreamed only the fairest of dreams.

Cynddl looked on, distressed. “But I thought he said hewould release the child.”

“Wait a moment,” Alaan said. “One thing you could say aboutWyrr, he always kept his word.”

And in a moment Llya emerged, spitting up water and splashingwildly. Baore waded quickly in and fished him out, setting him beside Elise inthe boat. Another cloak was offered, and she wrapped it around the boy. He wentto make a word with his hand, but then stopped.

“Thank you,” he said haltingly, and a tiny smile flittedacross his face.

The others climbed eagerly aboard, and Tam took up his paddle.They set off into the mist, Alaan guiding them. Elise sat upon the centerthwart, an arm around a child to either side. The children leaned their headsagainst her, as though weary beyond measure. And then their small hands foundeach other in the near darkness, and the fingers entwined, clinging tightly-twochildren who had seen too much.

“We have no time for rest,” Alaan said. “And I am sorry for it.But Hafydd can still bring ruin to the land of the living.”

Menwyn kept his hands clasped behind his back lest theirtrembling betray his fear. As the night deepened, his anxieties intensified.The call of an owl seemed a bad omen to him, and the relentless creaking of thecrickets was a torment almost beyond enduring.

“Is there no sign of the Renne?” he asked his lieutenant forthe hundredth time.

“None, sir.”

Menwyn glanced up at the sky. Dawn could not be far off. “Couldthe Renne have been warned?”

“There is still time,” one of the noblemen said.

A rider came thundering up the valley in defiance of allorders.

“Who is that blunderer?” Menwyn snapped.

“I don’t know, your grace,” a junior officer responded. “Butwe’ll find out.” He ran to intercept the rider, and in a moment brought theman, flushed and gasping, back to Lord Menwyn.

“Well?” Menwyn said, trying to keep his voice low despitehis anger.

“Your grace …” the man managed between gasps. “A companyof riders comes down the valley.” He pointed back the way he had come. “Black-cladriders. It is Sir Eremon, and he is gathering companies to him as he nears.”

There was no hope now of keeping his hands still. They flewup like fluttering birds. “Is no one resisting?”

The man shook his head. “As he comes he is calling out thatthe Renne are behind him, that we must form up and turn to fight.”

“It is a lie! A ruse to frighten the men-at-arms intojoining him.”

“Your grace …” the man said softly. “There is a largeforce coming down the valley not far behind Sir Eremon.”

“No,” Menwyn said stupidly. “Vast told us they would be landinghere. Here … at the mouth of the Llynyth.”

The sounds of horses reached him then.

“Form a mounted company!” Menwyn shouted. “Hafydd must bemet on the field! Did you hear?”

But no one moved to deliver his order. A dozen men broke andran for their horses-officers and noblemen.

“Cut them down!” Menwyn ordered. “No one deserts his post onpain of death!”

Chaos erupted around him, men running this way and that, scufflingover horses. Swords were drawn, and fighting broke out.

“Your grace!” It was Menwyn’s equerry, holding the reins ofa horse, blood running down his face. “You must go to Prince Michael. He’s ouronly hope.” Menwyn hesitated, unable to believe what happened around him. Menwere killing each other over mounts. He caught sight of the approaching ridersthen-torches bobbing in the darkness illuminating the black horsemen.

Death himself would appear so , Menwyn thought.

He snatched the reins from his equerry, vaulted into thesaddle, and, drawing his sword, rode off into the darkness.

Another company of riders could be heard far up the valley.This second force was much larger than the first they had seen, passing likeshadows.

“Why is Menwyn moving riders into the draw now?” the Princewhispered to those around him. He looked up at the sky which he thought showedsome sign of growing light. “The Renne can’t help but hear all this. They willknow we’re here.”

“This is a very large company,” Pwyll said turning his headto listen. “Has Menwyn been hiding cavalry from us?”

Four horsemen loomed out of the dark and spoke the passwordsto Prince Michael’s guards.

“Ah,” the prince said. “Now we’ll learn what goes on.”

One of his guards ran up. “Your grace,” he said. “Lord Menwyn.”

Michael glanced over at Pwyll, who seemed as surprised ashe. Lord Menwyn was led quickly through the circle of guards.

The Wills nobleman ignored all polite convention, stridingup to Michael. “Hafydd has returned!” he hissed. “Returned and seized controlof my army. Vast betrayed us …” Menwyn gestured wildly up the valley. “TheRenne are at our backs.”

No one responded, or even moved. Menwyn stepped closer toPrince Michael.

“You must attack Hafydd, Prince Michael. If he survives thisnight there is no place where we can hide from him.”

“But this army wants revenge upon the Renne,” T’oldor protested.

“The desire for revenge has led us to this pass!” Michaelsaid angrily. “No plague has ever caused more suffering or spread its contagionmore easily.” He turned to his officers. “I will go from company to company.The men must understand that we take up arms against a sorcerer to preservemore than our lives. It is to preserve the world we know.”

A great echoing clash resounded down the valley as the Rennearmy met Hafydd’s force.

“There is no time!” Lord Menwyn protested, grabbing thePrince’s arm.

Michael shook him off. “There is no other way.” He snatcheda newly lit torch away from a guard, but before he’d gone many steps hestopped. Turning back to the others, he pointed at Menwyn. “Put this man in theforefront of the cavalry and be sure he has a sword.”

“But I am Menwyn Wills-”

“Yes, and you are as responsible as any for the plight wefind ourselves in this night. All the suffering your conspiracies have caused,and you thought never to pay the cost.”

Vast rode in the center of a small company of Renne guards.They’d taken his sword, stripped him of his mail, and tied him to his saddle,leaving his hands free. He was wearing a surcoat of Renne blue so that his ownallies would kill him. The Duke found himself wondering how long he would lastin battle. Perhaps the Renne had laid bets. Certainly a few moments would seehis end. He thought tenderly of his wife then. Of their palace and gardens. Ofthe fields where he liked to ride and see the grains grow.