The Silver Hand (37 page)

It seemed to me that oppression lay like a stifling hide upon the land—thick, heavy, dense, and vast: a rotting hide, putrid with decay, suffocating all beneath it.

I rose heavyhearted, pulled on my clothes, and walked down the pathway to the lakeside where the horses and wagons were waiting our departure. Goewyn was among the few gathered to see us away.

“Farewell, Tegid. Worry for nothing while you are gone—I will care for the Mabinogi,” she said, grasping my hands. Her hands were warm as they pressed mine.

“Thank you, Goewyn.”

“You are troubled. What is the matter?” She did not release my hands but held them more tightly. “What have you seen?”

“Nothing . . . I do not know—nothing good,” I told her. “If it were left to me, we would not leave here at all.”

She leaned close, and I felt her warm breath on my cheek as she kissed me. “May you journey in peace and return to us in safety,” she said.

Llew and Bran approached just then, leading their horses. Goewyn bade them farewell, and, as Llew made no kindly remark, she departed.

“You and Alun lead the wagons,” Llew said, turning to Bran, “I will ride behind with Tegid and Rhoedd and the others.”

We mounted our horses and the signal was given. I heard the creak and grate of wooden wheels on the shingle as the wagons began trundling slowly along the lakeshore toward the ridge. We waited until the last cart passed before taking our places at the end.

In all, there were six high-sided wains filled with skins and vats of fresh water accompanied by ten warriors, led by Bran and two Ravens. The rest of our Ravenflight were to stay behind and guard Dinas Dwr under the command of Calbha and Scatha.

Though the sun was newly risen, the air was already hot. We followed the groaning wagons up the slope of Druim Vran, then carefully, and with great difficulty, down the steep face of the ridge wall. By the time we reached the glen on the other side we were all sweating and exhausted, and the journey had only begun.

We followed the river as it bent east and south. Our two Ravens, Alun Tringad and Drustwn, rode well ahead to scout the way lest we encounter any of Meldron's spies. We met no one, however. Neither did we see any sign that Meldron's blight had yet invaded northern Caledon. The rivers and springs ran clean and pure; the lakes appeared fresh. Even so, owing to Rhoedd's warning, we drank nothing from any source along the way.

The first two days of our journey, I remained alert to every sound and every scent—searching, I think, for some sign, however faint, of the doom I felt looming nearer with every step away from Dinas Dwr. Still we journeyed on without hindrance, yet my fears remained as acute as ever.

After three days, we left the riverway and joined Sarn Cathmail, the old high track which joins the northern forests with the heathered hill lands of the south. Our scouts ranged further ahead as the land opened; and, though they proceeded with all caution, they saw no one. Thus we traveled on—and my foreboding grew.

And then, at midday on the fourth day, we came in sight of the way stone which marks Sarn Cathmail at its midpoint.
Carreg Cawr,
the Giant's Stone, is an enormous blue-black slab which towers three times man-height over the raised stone-paved trackway. Like other such stones, it is carved with saining symbols which guard the road and those who travel upon it.

“One more day, I think,” Llew said. “We are doing well despite the heat. It is very dry here—the grass is brown.”

As he spoke, my inner vision kindled, and I saw the long, slate-colored road stretching before us across a grassy plain surrounded by low hills under a white, barren sky. I saw the loaded wagons lurching and bumping over the track, and rising above, Carreg Cawr, black in strong sunlight.

The scouts had passed the Giant's Stone and had ridden on ahead. Indeed, there was nothing to prevent them. Bran and the warriors passed by, and then, one by one, the wagons reached the stone and rumbled on. But, as I neared the stone, the foreboding which had ridden with me since before our beginning grew to a palpable discomfort of dread.

Drawing near to the stone, I reined my horse to a halt. Llew traveled on a few paces and stopped, almost directly beneath the great hulking stone. He gazed at it, tracing the ancient symbols with his eyes. “The symbols,” he called back to me. “Can you read them?”

“I can,” I replied curtly. “They are tokens of protection. They hallow the sarn.”

“I know that,” he said testily. “I mean, what do they say?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned in the saddle, lifted the reins, and urged his horse forward once more. I sat for a moment, listening. I heard only the wind fitfully winnowing the long grass of the smooth hills and, far-off, the shriek of a hawk. And then I heard Llew cry out.

His shout was more surprise than pain. I glimpsed a shadow flicker behind the Giant's Stone as Llew whirled in the saddle. “What was that? Did you hear anything?”

“No.”

“Something hit me just now. It felt like a rock—right in the back. I could have—”

“Shh! Listen!”

Llew lapsed into silence, and I heard a slight scratching sound coming from the Giant's Stone. Then I heard a dull clink—as of the links of an iron chain; and then . . . nothing.

“There is someone lurking behind the Giant's Stone,” I told Llew, who instantly drew his spear from beneath his saddle.

He turned his mount toward the stone. “Come out,” he called. “We know you are hiding there. Come out at once.”

We waited. No answer came. Llew made to speak again, but I restrained him with a wave of my hand. “Hear me,” I called towards the stone. “It is the Chief Bard of Albion who speaks to you now. I demand that you show yourself at once. You will not be harmed.”

A moment passed in silence. Then I heard the soft, slow, stealthy tread of someone moving in the long, dry grass at the base of the Giant's Stone.

A slight figure appeared, wearing the remains of a ragged siarc and a green cloak. And beside the mysterious person walked an enormous, slate-gray hound with a distinctive streak of white across the shoulder. I knew who it was, even before Llew shouted: “Ffand!”

He vaulted from the saddle and ran to the ragged girl. The dog barked and was silenced with a simple, “Twrch!”

“Ffand!” cried Llew. “Ah, brave Ffand!” He caught her up in an embrace that lifted her off her feet. She laughed as he kissed her on a dirty cheek. “What are you doing here—way out here alone?” he asked, releasing her.

“But I am not alone,” Ffand replied. “Twrch is with me.” She patted the dog's back, which came even to her hip.

“Twrch!” Llew reached his good hand toward the dog.

Twrch stretched his neck and sniffed Llew's hand. Did he recognize the scent of his old master? Yes, indeed; for the great beast began barking and immediately leapt up—placing a huge paw on each of Llew's shoulders—and then proceeded to lick his face. Llew held the dog's head with his good hand, stroking the animal's neck with his stump, and Twrch licked that too. “Quiet! Quiet, Twrch!” Llew gazed at Ffand. “What are you doing here?” he asked again. “And how in the world did you get here?”

“I have been looking for you,” Ffand said.

“Looking for me?” wondered Llew, bemused.

“They say that Llew raises a kingdom in the north. And Meldron searches the north. So I have come north to find you,” Ffand explained.

“Very sensible,” Llew assured her.

“You said you would come for the dog,” Ffand told him crossly. “You came, but you did not wait for us.” Her tone accused him, and then instantly relented. “So we decided to come to you.”

“Wait for you? What do you mean?”

“When you came to Caer Modornn.”

I dismounted and walked to where they stood. “It is true that we came to Caer Modornn, but we did not see you, Ffand.”

“You forgot about me,” she said indignantly.

“Yes,” Llew admitted. “I am sorry. If I had known you were waiting for us, we would never have left without you.”

“And I would not have to throw rocks at you,” she said, and my inner sight flared with the image of a fine young woman with long brown hair and large brown eyes; her skin was lightly tinted from the sun. She had obviously traveled a very great distance, yet she appeared healthy and strong, if a little tattered and thin.

She had grown in the time since I had last seen her, although she still had much of the child about her. Lithe in her movements and manner, she seemed as wily as a creature of the wood. Indeed, she told how she had been living in the years since she had rescued us.

There was never enough food, so she and Twrch had taken to the woods to fend for themselves. They spent most of the time hunting, bringing back whatever they could catch to share with the holding. “Even a hare or a squirrel,” she said. “It was the only meat we could get.”

“Ffand,” said Llew, “you are a wonder. Are you hungry?”

“More thirsty than hungry,” she replied. “The water is bad hereabouts.”

I returned to my mount and the food bag tied behind my saddle. I brought out a portion of hard cheese and some of the small barley loaves we carried. These were accepted gratefully. Then I gave her my water skin, which she all but drained before offering the rest to Twrch; the dog drank what was left, and then licked the skin.

Ffand broke one of the loaves and began to eat at once. As I suspected, she was ravenous. The dog sat beside her, licking its chops but not otherwise complaining.

“I do not wonder that Meldron fears you so much,” she said, breaking a loaf in half and stuffing it into her mouth.

“How do you know that Meldron fears us?” I asked.

“Ever since you came to Caer Modornn,” she said, chewing happily, “Meldron has been searching for you. There is no one in all Albion who has not been questioned by Meldron's Wolf Pack: Where is the cripple Llew? Where is blind Tegid?” She swallowed and said, “He has vowed to destroy you. He has said that anyone who finds you will be granted lands and wealth—much wealth.”

“So,” said Llew, “you have come looking for me.”

Ffand took his jest seriously. “Not for him! Never for Meldron!” she gasped, suddenly horrified that he should think that of her. “I came to warn you and to bring Twrch. He is a good dog—I trained him myself—and every king should have a good dog.”

“And I thank you, Ffand,” Llew replied warmly. “I could use a good dog—even though I am no longer a king. It seems that once again, I am in your debt.”

The last of the wagons had disappeared over a rise of hill. “We must go now,” I said. I turned my head and cast my inward eye toward the way stone. “We should not linger here any longer.”

“Tegid is right, we should rejoin the others.”

“Come, Ffand, you can ride with me until we reach the wagons.” I swung myself into my saddle and let down my hand for her.

She looked up at me curiously and bit her lip. “Can you see me?” she wondered.

“Yes,” I answered without explaining, “so stop gawking and give me your arm.”

I pulled her up behind me on the horse; Llew remounted, and we continued on our way. Twrch trotted along between us, first beside Llew, and then beside Ffand and me—as if he would happily divide his presence between two masters.

Before my inward vision darkened once more, I glimpsed the great hound, head lifted high to scent the wind, long legs loping gracefully along beside Llew as if he had always enjoyed the easy pleasure of a noble position.

Then the image faded and darkness reclaimed my sight. I was left to muse on the meaning of what had taken place. Ffand's appearance was no threat to us, certainly. All the same, my feelings of dread were equally certain—indeed, had not abated. I still felt deep foreboding in my bones. The Giant's Stone still loomed over the trackway, a dark, brooding bulk, but we passed by unharmed.

It seemed to me then that I felt a peculiar pulse in my stomach and chest. And then the sound reached me: something heavy moving, slowly, ponderously—the sound of large millstones grinding. I pulled on the reins and turned my mount on the road.

“Ffand,” I said urgently. “Look at the way-stone—the Giant's Stone—look at it and tell me what is happening. What do you see?”

“I do not—”

“Quickly, girl! Tell me what you see!”

My shouting alerted Llew, who halted and called back to me. “What is it, Tegid?”

“I see the stone,” Ffand told me. “I see nothing else. It is just . . .” She paused. “What was that?”

“Did you see something?”

“No, I felt something—here in my stomach.”

The horse grew skittish; it whinnied and stepped sideways. “Keep your eyes on the stone,” I told her. “Do not look away. Tell me all you see.”

“Well,” she began once more, “it is just there. As I said, it is—”She gasped. “Look!”

“What? Ffand! Tell me what is happening!”

“Tegid!” Llew shouted, and I heard the sharp clatter and chop of iron-clad hooves on stone as his horse shied and reared.

My horse tossed its head and neighed in fright. I wound the rein around my hand and held it taut. Ffand gripped tight to my cloak.

“Speak, girl!”

Llew clattered to a halt beside us. “The stone is moving,” he said. “Trembling, or vibrating very slowly. And the ground around it is splitting.”

I heard a sound like that of a stump groaning as it is uprooted . . . and then silence. “What else? Is there anything else?”

“No,” replied Llew after a moment. “It has stopped now.”

I heard another deep rumble and realized that the sound was coming from Twrch; the dog growled softly, a note of menace low in his throat. “Quiet, Twrch,” Ffand scolded.

I heard the keen of a bird . . . no, a whistle—it was a signal; someone was signaling with a whistle . . .