The Keys to the Realms (The Dream Stewards) (29 page)

“If there is nothing else to keep you from doing so, make your stand. Make it now,” Thorne demanded. “Is the Ruagaire Brotherhood your calling or not?”

Rhys was not as quick to answer as Thorne would have liked, but he respected a deliberate man. Thorne would not, however, reward the hesitation with patient silence, at least not for long. And apparently neither would the Brothers Steptoe.

“Declare yourself and be done with it,” Gavin goaded.

“It is a rare offer,” Eckhardt added. “And you can be sure it won’t come again. Not from any of us, and we are all that’s left.”

Thorne wrapped a bit of encouragement around his expectations, but this was the last he would say on it. “You are suited for this life. There is no doubt about that. But your whole heart must yearn for it. Either it does or it doesn’t, and I need to know which. Speak now or never, Rhys.”

Rhys took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He looked as though he were about to confess to a crime. “It does. I declare myself for the Brotherhood.”

“So be it.” Thorne was pleased, despite the young swordsman’s reservations. It was not an easy decision, nor was it without a price. “You were right about one thing, Rhys. Someone will have to explain all of this to your mother.”

Rhys sighed and gestured at the sparrowhawk. The bird was still quietly perched in the tree. “I think she already knows.”

T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

T
he slow-burning rage Hywel had been cultivating since he’d headed for Cwm Brith had collided with the sense of foreboding he’d felt since they’d arrived. He would do what must be done. He had no choice. But Hywel was not
ignorant
of the cost, and more and more he regretted the
decision
Clydog had forced him to make. Glain’s disturbing dream still haunted him.

Killing his brother was the one sure way to end the threat
Clydog
represented, but it would also tragically weaken his father’s line. There would be other costs as well, costs that Hywel was
trying
to ignore: the loss of the brother bond that would never be realized and the unrivaled power their united legacy might someday produce. If only he had been given a chance to reason with Clydog, things might have been different.

It was too late for reason now. In the thick stillness of the moonless night, Hywel’s advance contingent was stealing toward the nearest corner of the outer wall. He’d ordered the first strike to be carried out by three soldiers who knew the compound as well as he—his two favored lieutenants and oldest companions—and a highly skilled bowman who had served in his father’s army for many years. Once they had scaled the wall and subdued the night watch, the team would open the gates for the rest of their small force. And so they waited at the tree line, armed and mounted and determined to succeed. Or to die trying.

“Keep close to Cerrigwen,” Hywel advised Odwain. Aeron had begun an anxious hoof dance and was pulling against the reins. “She might be vulnerable to Clydog’s human soldiers while she confronts the inhuman ones.”

Odwain nodded, his eyes trained on the ramparts. “The first guard is down. Can you see the other?”

The second man over the wall had quickly and silently strong-armed one of the two guards walking the parapet. Hywel watched as the third of his advance raiders, the bowman, scaled the wall and positioned himself behind the southwest corner buttress.

“There, on the right.” Hywel pointed at the soldier rounding the southeast corner. Almost before he had finished his sentence, the bowman took aim and downed the second guard, signaling to Hywel with a furtive wave. It was now safe for the rest of the raiders to begin a careful advance across the twenty-odd-yard clearing between the trees and the compound.

Hywel had divided his remaining warriors into two factions so that they could flank the gate on both sides for their approach and then mount a split attack once they were inside. Five of his most fierce and experienced men accompanied Odwain and
Cerrigwen
, while Bledig and the remaining three rode with him.

The contingent drew single file into the wall shadow, each half taking position on either side of the gate. In a matter of minutes they would have entry to the compound, and if all went well, the advantage of surprise. Hywel felt the familiar niggle of agitation that erupted just before battle. He was eager for it.

Almost before they were fully positioned, Hywel heard the scrape of the massive wooden gate bolt being dragged cautiously through its metal bracings. His heart thudded against the confinement of his chest, and rage surged anew. Hywel alerted the others and tensed, prepared to spur Aeron into a charge.

One of his lieutenants pushed one of the heavy, hinged gate doors open a few inches and squeezed through. “Nearly four dozen soldiers, asleep in the barn and stable,” he whispered.

Hywel was surprised. “How many of the Hellion marauders?”

The lieutenant held up five fingers. “A half dozen at most, scattered throughout the grounds.”

Hywel nodded, feeling more confident. He backed Aeron away to give him room and signaled to the others. “Throw the gates.”

A few moments later, both halves of the massive barricade began a slow outward swing, and Hywel let loose his riders. Two men from each of the two small companies made straight for the large outbuildings, bolting the stable and barn doors from the outside by jamming muck rakes and pitchforks and whatever else they could find through the curved iron handles. Odwain and another man lagged to close and bolt the gates to keep anyone or anything from escaping their attack. The rest of Hywel’s command rode hard toward the scattering of monstrous creatures, banking both right and left in an effort to corral them inside a loose circle. Cerrigwen, astride her silver mare, waited just inside the walls.

One of the blood-red Hellion soldiers, the one Hywel took to be the leader, hefted a pole mace the size of a birch tree above his giant horn-helmed head and let loose a furious roar. The battle cry was a sound every warrior knew, be it man or animal or demon beast. His minions rallied to mount, but big and strong as they were, the warriors themselves were slow on their feet. It was their sure-hooved gargantuan mounts that were the real danger. Already they snarled and snapped their daggered jaws, straining against their harnessing as they waited to be released.

Hywel hoped Cerrigwen would be quick with whatever magic she intended to wield. He had instructed his riders to keep moving, circling and darting to avoid engaging the enemy as long as possible. It would take two soldiers to bring down just one of these demons, and if they lost even one man, it would be one more than they could spare. Hywel eyed the giant Hellion general heaving himself atop his behemoth and hauled Aeron out of his gallop and into a skittering prance a few dozen paces away.

By the time the four soldiers who had cut away to secure Clydog’s army returned to the regiment, Hywel was beginning to doubt his entire plan. As he turned to look for Cerrigwen, a great bellow resounded from the opposite side of the yard, followed by the clang and scrape of sword metal against armor. Bledig, the barbarian warlord, had engaged one of the Hellion riders, and the battle had begun.

“Stand down!” Hywel shouted at his men, wheeling Aeron back on his haunches.

Somehow Bledig and another soldier brought down one of the beastly mounts and immediately doubled up against its rider. A lucky victory in a foolish fight, and Hywel did not expect the others to fare so well should they follow Bledig’s lead.

Hywel turned Aeron full circle, seeking Cerrigwen. He needed her now, before the Hellion cut down every last man. But she was not where he expected her to be.

“Balor’s balls!” Hywel cursed. Two more of his men had engaged another of the Hellion warriors. He wheeled Aeron a half turn to his left. Where
was
that bloody sorceress?

He saw her then, already dismounted and approaching the fight. Odwain was walking right behind her, leading both her
silver
mare and his chestnut Frisian. Hywel jabbed Aeron’s ribs with his boot heels and turned the stallion’s nose toward
Cerrigwen
. He could do little more now than keep himself between her and the danger while she worked her spell.

But it was over before he reached her. Just like the tiny sorceress in the woods, Cerrigwen raised her arms as she walked, palms facing forward. He could not hear the words she called out, but it appeared as if the demons did. They and their mounts turned all at once, as though she had called them to her. But the Hellion did not charge.

Cerrigwen shouted out again, words Hywel again could not make out. The demon warriors began to writhe, struggling against themselves as if they were trapped in place and fighting to break free of unseen bonds. And then they began to howl in agony and fury.

Hywel pulled up, unsure his approach was wise. As he watched, the Hellion soldiers began to quiver, just as he had seen before, their mounts along with them. The shuddering turned to violent spasms, and then again, as he had witnessed in the woods, the demon legion disintegrated in a fiery burst, leaving nothing behind but piles of burnt bone, seared gut, and melted armor.

Cerrigwen drew down her arms, took a deep breath, and turned to look up at him. “It is done,” she said.

“Half done,” he said as he dismounted, pointing toward the lodge. “Clydog will be waiting for us with his personal guard.”

Hywel took account of his men and their whereabouts. Bledig had already gathered most of the raiders to contain the captured men in the outbuildings, and three others were already on their way to guard the rear of the main house. Two more were waiting for him, just outside the front door.

“How many men will he have with him?” she asked.

Hywel was already walking away. “Not enough to worry me.”

Before he’d taken two full strides, Cerrigwen brushed past him. Hywel reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed.
Cerrigwen
spun on him, wild-eyed and fury fueled. Hywel was a little worried that he had the same look.

“Wait,” he demanded. “We’ll go in together. Where is Odwain?”

“Not far behind you.” She glared over his shoulder and then glared straight at him. “Do you want Clydog dead or alive?”

“Alive,” Hywel said, “for now.”

She sighed and scowled, as if she were disappointed. “Why?”

Hywel was hard pressed to explain. He had arrived at Cwm Brith fully prepared to wring the life out of Clydog with his bare hands, just for thinking to oppose him. But now that he was here, standing on the grounds as master of Cwm Brith once and for all, Hywel could afford to feel pity. “Whatever he has done, he is still my brother.”

Cerrigwen’s expression softened only a little. “Then keep yourself between him and me. The last time the little prince and I met, I cursed his foolish soul. Should he or anyone on his order dare cross my path, that person will come to an unpleasant end.”

Hywel was surprised but impressed. “Perhaps Clydog will be more easily persuaded to see reason with you along.”

Cerrigwen cocked an eyebrow and very nearly smiled. “If my first impression of him is any indication of his nature, I believe he will agree to anything to save his own skin.”

Odwain caught up to them. “The men are in position behind the lodge.”

“Then let’s go,” Hywel said. “But leave Clydog to me.”

“As you wish, Hywel,” said Cerrigwen, “but if he harms my daughter, not even you can save him.”

“Agreed.” He would not deny her retribution, not that he could even if he wished. Besides, if Clydog were so stupid as to irk the sorceress, then he deserved whatever he got.

The door to the lodge stood wide open to the small foyer, which led directly to the grand hall. This was the only room on the main floor, aside from the kitchens. Hywel had last seen his father alive here, entertaining his cronies over the spoils of the hunt—buck shank and boar hocks with warm ale and tall talk. Good times had been had here, far better times than these.

And then Hywel saw Clydog, standing behind a young woman seated in Cadell’s chair at the head of the enormous
rectangular
oak table in the center of the room. All lanky limbs and copper-colored curls, just as Hywel remembered him, only taller now and bearded. The situation would have been laughable had not so much been at stake.

Clydog was flanked by four guardsmen, and as Hywel drew full into the room, he realized that Clydog held the woman with his right hand on her shoulder and the other resting the edge of a long-bladed dagger at the base of her throat. “Have you met our sister, Hywel?”

“I haven’t yet had the pleasure.” Hywel stepped to the near end of the table. The young woman looked a great deal like
Clydog
, who favored their father. They shared red curls and fair skin, and there was something similar in the shape of their mouths. “But this is hardly the time for a proper introduction.”

Clydog’s gaze shifted and his expression sobered beyond grim as he saw Cerrigwen enter the room. Hywel noticed that Clydog was careful to keep himself squarely behind Ffion. It was clear how much he feared Cerrigwen.

Ffion smiled at her mother. Her hands were clasped together and resting on top of the table, but her wrists were bound. Mage tether, Hywel assumed. Clydog had left little to chance.

Cerrigwen stood next to Hywel, on his left. “Let my daughter go, and I will let you live.”

“Send the vile witch away,” Clydog shouted at Hywel, his grasp on Ffion cinching tighter as he grew more distressed. “Get her out of here. I will speak to you and you alone.”

Hywel was struck by how young Clydog seemed.
Inexperience
and desperation often led to rash acts, and Clydog had
obviously
stepped well beyond the bounds of his abilities. This could end in only one of two ways.

“You are in no position to bargain with me, brother,” Hywel said. “Your army is mine now, as is this lodge, and you have
nothing
else that I want. I suggest you make whatever deal you can with the sorceress and hope I am feeling generous enough to leave you your life when this is over.”

“Let me leave.” Clydog attempted to barter with Hywel
anyway
. “Once I am safely away, I will let the girl go.”

Hywel snorted. “To go where—back to our cousins in
Gwynedd
, to plot my undoing all over again? You will never be king so long as I live, Clydog, and I promise to live a very lo
ng time
.”

“The prophecy speaks only of a son of Cadell,” Clydog
countered
. He was still clinging to his dead ambition. “It does not call you out by name or by birth. I have as much right to claim our father’s legacy as you.”

Hywel shook his head, suddenly sad. “The prophecy was never our father’s legacy, Clydog. It is my destiny. It has always been mine.”

“Machreth pledged
me
his patronage.” Clydog said this as if he believed it still mattered.

“To help you defeat me and bring the other kings under your control so that he could rule through you. And you have failed.” Hywel was as disappointed as he was outraged. “No son of Cadell could be such a fool. You are less than nothing to Machreth now. You must know this.”

Hywel could see in his brother’s eyes that he did, but his pride would never let him admit it. In Clydog’s mind, he could take no other stand. There was no honorable retreat available to him. If he were to concede now, Clydog would be less than nothing to everyone who mattered.