The Pendragon's Challenge (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 7) (2 page)

It was as if, after all his years of adventuring and wandering, he’d come full circle.

Catrin lifted her chin to indicate the oncoming Mercians. “Why would Penda be coming here?”

Goronwy looked with her. “I doubt it’s Penda. Peada at best, or perhaps a lesser lord who does Penda’s bidding. Regardless, Penda should know better than to show his face in Cade’s court ever again.”

The rage threatened to overwhelm Goronwy once again, but even as he fought it, he found Catrin’s hand resting on his arm as she’d done before he’d shouted at her. “I know anger can help men in battle, and it is hard to let go of once you’ve left the field, but I see how it eats away at you. Can I help?”

Goronwy almost growled at her again, but he swallowed that down too. “I don’t need help. I have it under control.” But even as he spoke, he knew his words weren’t true, by the very fact of his denial.

She didn’t argue with him, just studied him with that gentle expression. He cleared his throat, knowing that if he looked into those gray eyes for another heartbeat, he’d be back to tears, and that he couldn’t have—not with Mercia on their doorstep. So instead of answering or being honest, he cleared his throat, gave her a stiff bow, and departed for the gatehouse.

As he strode away, he deliberately put Catrin from his mind. With four days to Cade’s crowning, the last thing he needed was to be distracted by her or his own emotions. A warrior learned to accept his role in the order of things and to live with the consequences of his actions—or he didn’t live long.

* * * * *

Catrin watched Goronwy stride towards the gatehouse where undoubtedly he would be one of the first to inspect whoever this was who was riding to Dinas Bran on behalf of King Penda. For months Catrin been trying to reach Goronwy, and with this latest rejection, she finally had to accept that she’d tried for the last time. All she’d wanted to tell him was that she sensed a great foreboding in the mountain beneath their feet. It had been growing in her mind for some time, though she hadn’t put into words what she was sensing. It was very real to her now, however, and her thought had been to discuss it first with Goronwy before going to Taliesin or Cade.

When they’d met, she’d dismissed Goronwy as a soldier, who was by definition an oaf and not worthy of her time. Months of association had shown her that he was a prince and a warrior, with a sharp mind that understood far more than he let on. Even more, he was an honorable man, with a sense of humor and a large heart which he hid beneath a polished exterior.

Catrin looked down at her feet. She’d been alone for a long time, and for years she’d told herself that no man would ever move her again. At Caer Fawr, she’d wondered if walking at Taliesin’s side might be one kind of end for her, but before he’d departed on his quest for the Thirteen Treasures of Britain, he’d made it clear to her that they were not meant to be together, and she had bowed to his wishes and his wisdom.

After that, it had been natural for her to turn to Goronwy for companionship. He wasn’t afraid of her like so many others and, on rare occasions, she’d even sensed a kind of magic in him—though that didn’t happen often. And when he was angry, as he’d been just now, he was no different from any other mortal man.

After Caer Fawr, if she’d asked, Cade would have ensured a safe journey for her to wherever she wanted to go. He had men who served him all across north Wales, any one of whom would have been delighted to find themselves housing a gifted healer.

But she’d stayed, and as Catrin gazed at the oncoming Mercians, she realized that doing so had been a mistake. Before she’d come north with Goronwy, she’d been able to feel the hum of the earth in everything she touched. But since she’d arrived at Cade’s court, she’d felt disconnected from life around her. At first she’d thought it was because she’d spent too much time inside the castle, separated from the earth by the rocky outcrop on which the castle perched.

But then Catrin realized that her disengagement didn’t have anything to do with whether it was rock or soil beneath her feet. She was a seer, and the earth was a living, breathing thing that a few feet of stone, which were part of the earth too, could hardly affect. No, it had to do with allowing others to choose her path for her.

It was time to go, and maybe it would make sense to go now. She would tell Cade about the darkness rising within the mountain, let Rhiann know that she was leaving, and then slip out the wicket gate. With the arrival of the Mercians and the ongoing preparations for Cade’s departure for Caer Fawr tomorrow night, nobody—and by that she could admit she meant Goronwy—would even notice she was gone. Before she could think better of her decision, she hurried from the battlement to find Cade and Rhiann, and then to collect her things.

Chapter Two

Rhiann

R
hiann glared at her husband, her hands on her hips. “You didn’t really think this was going to be easy, did you?”

Cade laughed, his whole body shaking with amusement. “I was a fool, Rhiann. Forgive me?”

Rhiann shook her head.
As if there was anything to forgive
. “Now, what about Llywelyn?”

“I’ve known too many who’ve gone back on their word to choose that name,” Cade said.

Rhiann collapsed onto a nearby stool. “You have known far too many men who’ve disgraced their honor. How are we to choose a name when you eliminate every one for that reason?”

“Our son, if I am not mistaken that this child is to be a son, is going to have enough to live up to—or live down to—without being burdened by an inappropriate name.”

Rhiann eyed him. “How likely is it that you are wrong about the child being a boy?”

Cade looked down at the ground. Rhiann knew that stance. He looked down when he was struggling with himself—in this case because he didn’t want to appear arrogant, even though he would be lying if he said that there was a possibility he didn’t know for certain.

She made a
huh
sound at the back of her throat. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a son. While she knew that Cade would be pleased by a daughter—and would say so if asked—every man
needed
a son, especially a man who would soon be crowned High King of the Britons. Not even three months in the womb, and the child was already burdened with the kingship. “Then I suppose Cadfael won’t work. I would so like to name our son after my father.”

Cade glanced up, his face paling, but then he saw the smile twitching on Rhiann’s lips. “You had me worried for a moment.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to Cadwallon,” Rhiann said.

“It may come to that, though Cadwallon ap Cadwaladr ap Cadwallon is quite a mouthful to foist on a child.”

“I’m sure we’d manage. We’d call him
Wally
.” Rhiann grinned outright at how Cade’s face paled again. “Then again, he will be born at Christmas. We could call him—”

A knock came at the door, interrupting Rhiann’s next suggestion. It was probably just as well, because Cade wouldn’t have liked the name on her lips any more than he’d liked any of the others.

“Come in,” Cade said.

Taliesin pushed the door open wide enough to poke his head in the space between the frame and the door. At Cade’s impatient wave, he shoved the door open fully. The bard was wearing his ratty old cloak and traveling boots—and a pack on his back.

Rhiann frowned. “We aren’t leaving until tomorrow. Why are you already dressed for a journey now?”

“Because I’m going away,” Taliesin said. “Alone.”

Unhappiness rose in Rhiann’s chest. Catrin had just informed them that she couldn’t stay another hour at Dinas Bran, and now Taliesin looked to be telling them the same thing. Cade, however, seemed completely unsurprised by this news. “I will not try to stop you. May God show you the straight path.” He canted his head. “Or the gods, if you prefer.”

“I can guarantee you that my path will not be straight.” Taliesin released a puff of air. “Up until Caer Fawr, we were luckier than maybe we deserved or was warranted, but everything I’ve discovered since then has only made me more fearful of what we face.”

Cade nodded. “A moment ago, Catrin told me that she sensed power shifting within the mountain. Is that what is sending you away?”

“I was leaving already.” He looked directly at Cade. “You should too.”

“I had planned to leave for Caer Fawr tomorrow night,” Cade said.

“No. Now.”

That was unusually straightforward speaking for Taliesin. Cade looked at him for a heartbeat, but then he nodded, accepting his bluntness as urgency. “All right. We will.” He grimaced. “After I speak to whoever is coming to see me from Mercia.”

Rhiann rose to her feet and put her arms around Taliesin in a quick embrace. He didn’t respond, just stood where he was planted, unbending as a tree. “Thank you,” she released him, “for everything.” She hadn’t expected him to hug her back. It wasn’t his way, and she didn’t take offense.

“I will return, my dear.” Then Taliesin smiled—that joyful, child-like smile that made him look younger than she was, even though she knew he was very old inside. “I already promised your husband that I would.”

“I know that too,” Rhiann said. “I expect to see you again, but sometimes you get lost, and I didn’t want you to go without telling you how I felt.”

Taliesin had left them shortly after the battle at Caer Fawr and spent the intervening months searching for the Thirteen Treasures of Britain. Everywhere he went, he found other men ahead of him or just behind, but in every case, he’d found no sign of the remaining Treasures. On one hand, that could be construed as a comfort, but on the other, if the Treasures were being moved or hidden, then the one doing so was growing more powerful by the day.

Taliesin kept the smile on his face, though it became a little fixed at her frank expression of emotion. But then he bowed. She’d thrown in the comment about getting lost to let him know that he hadn’t deceived her with his assurances. He was worried—about them, about Wales, and about the darkness beneath their feet.

His arms folded across his chest, Cade had continued to study Taliesin throughout his exchange with Rhiann. “
Cariad,
will you excuse us?”

Rhiann nodded and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Cade and Taliesin communicated on a level that left her out, but after everything she and Cade had been through, she’d learned to trust that he would tell her what he and Taliesin discussed when she needed to know.

She entered the great hall and pulled up short at the sight of the party of Mercians entering from the other direction through the front doors. They must have galloped up the mountain to have reached the castle already.

Striding ahead of his troop of ten men was Peada, the son of Penda, the King of Mercia. At her appearance, he stopped too, halting just past the central fireplace. The fire was burning brightly and drawing well, thanks to the blessing Taliesin had bestowed upon it—as well as the newly cleared vent in the right hand wall that brought air into the room and encouraged the smoke and ash to draw upwards towards the hole in the ceiling.

The glow of the flames lit Peada’s face. “I would speak to your lord.”

Rhiann found it difficult to even look at Peada. She was beyond angry at his father, who’d caused the deaths of so many Britons. The Mercians had been deceived by Mabon’s whisperings, as had many men over the years, but the battle at Caer Fawr had been only one of a long string of outrages against the Welsh committed by Peada’s people.

“Why?” she said, unwilling to even make the attempt to be polite.

Peada blinked. He hadn’t expected to be challenged.

Rhiann took in a breath, reining in her temper, and gestured towards several small tables arranged near the fire. “Please, sit. The time for the evening meal has not yet come, but I will arrange for food for you. My husband is in close conference with his advisors, and I will let him know that you are here.”

Peada’s expression cleared at her explanation, and he bowed. “Thank you, Madam.” Then he gestured to his men that they should fill in the benches on either side of the table.

Rhiann spun on her heel and marched back the way she’d come, heading towards the kitchen. She needed to let the cook know that a prince of Mercia and his men had entered the hall. It would be courteous, as Queen of Gwynedd, for her to serve him with her own hands, but she couldn’t stomach the thought.

Fortunately, just as she reached the doorway, Cade and Taliesin appeared, coming from the side corridor, and Rhiann hastened to intercept them before they entered the hall. “It’s Peada who has come!”

Cade put his arm around her waist and guided her around a corner, farther from the great hall. But when he spoke, his words were for Taliesin. “If you’re going to go, my friend, you should go now, quickly, before we get bogged down in whatever bad news Peada has brought.”

“If you need me to stay, my lord—”

“Of course I need you to stay,” Cade said, “but your task is urgent—more urgent than anything Peada could need from me. I don’t know what you can accomplish in the four days before my crowning, but if something is to be accomplished, it has to be now. There is nothing more important than that. If you really have pinpointed the force that has sent Mabon questing for the Treasures, we need to be the ones to get to them first.”

“That’s what you had to say to him?” Rhiann looked from Taliesin to Cade and back again. “You finally know who’s behind this game that isn’t a game?”

Taliesin looked directly at Rhiann, something he didn’t very often do. She thought it was because he was wary of seeing into the eyes of any mortal, since in so doing, he would see far more than the mortal intended, and it would be a violation of his or her privacy. She didn’t fear him knowing about her, however. She had secrets, as every woman did, but none were so terrible that she couldn’t share them with him.

“Throughout the centuries, many have sought to gather the Thirteen Treasures of Britain. Mortals and immortals alike reach for power, but this time is different. It might be hubris on my part, but I trust myself with them more than anyone else.”