The Shadow of a King (Shadowland Book 2) (13 page)

'Welcome, Uther Pendragon, King of the Britons. Welcome, Lords and warriors. We have eagerly awaited your coming,' - he leaned forward, smiling, and lowered his voice as he spoke to Uther - 'we have watched you from afar,' he nodded happily to himself. 'You are most welcome here amongst us. Rest with us here while you await the return of the Druid Merlyn, we shall care for you while the Stranger sees things right.'

'The Stranger? We have heard much talk about this Stranger. Who or what is he?' asked Uther, as behind him the warriors spread out towards the different fires and platters of food that were being brought in and laid upon the low benches.

'Worry not about the Stranger. He is who he is, and all is right and part of the story of life.' The old Druid smiled, but Uther felt a rising of frustration at the familiar sound of Druidic nonsense.

'You are not going to tell me who he is or what he would have of us, are you? Very well, we shall meet whatever takes place with honour in our hearts and if need be, blades in our hands.'

'That is how the story tells, for without honour and blade to balance, how can each turn of our path to the Shadowland possibly be bright. Especially of you who walks the earth with so little understanding of days and nights beyond the reach of your fellows, is that not so?'

Uther glared at him and decided it was a worthless undertaking to trade words with a Druid It was all utter nonsense. As the Druid smiled and nodded his head as if he had just received an answer to his cryptic question, Uther turned his back to him and went to sit beside Sir Ector and Duc Gerlois.

Where at least the fire was hot, and the food was good.

Nobody saw or noticed as the great doors swung in, inaudible upon well-greased hinges, but the colossal crash of the doors slamming home silenced the warriors who had spent the last few spans until darkness, eating, drinking, and resting around the fires. At once alert, every warrior sat up to look towards the entrance, setting their cups to the side, hands moving towards weapons, they stared at the figure who had entered.

There, stood a true giant of a man. Eyes glowing like the coals of a fire, the stranger towered higher than any of the warriors present. His head as he walked almost touched the beams of the roof and his brow and nose, set above a thick and bristly beard, cast shadows across the hall, this was no mortal man, this was a giant from tales of old.

As the giant passed the warriors to either side, waves of body heat and a rich, pungent odour passed over them and they shrank back, but every eye returned to follow his progress. About his waist, he wore the skin of a cow tied with rope and grass while across his shoulders he wore a cloak of greasy, matted wool. Silence filled the room save for the heavy tread and the sound of the oaken log that he dragged behind him, held in one massive fist as easily as most men would drag a club. In the other hand rested an axe.

Dogs that had been moving about amongst the warriors, begging treats or stealing from the tables whenever they could, slunk to the back of the hall, tails touching their bellies, and whimpered in fear at the giant's coming.

Slowly, each footstep reverberating against the roof beams so that they shook and dust dropped to fill the air, the figure strode towards the hearth where Uther sat waiting with his most trusted warriors seated about him.

As he reached the centre, the Stranger planted himself dominantly, legs apart, threw down his log in front of the fire and stood, silently challenging anyone to speak, but with the shock of his entrance nobody did. His shoulders sagged in resignation and he addressed the hall.

'My name is Uath, and I am known to all who will hear me, as Uath the Stranger,' his voice was deep and slow, the gravel of it felt within the belly of all those that were present.

'I roam this sorry world seeking one man amongst the multitude who might hold fast to his word.' He turned a full circle, dragging the axe as he surveyed the faces turned towards him, finally completing his turn he stared at Uther as he sat amongst his men. 'A simple task, an easy thing to find you may think, but you would be wrong.' Again, all stayed silent in shocked disbelief as they waited for the huge giant to go on.

'I have spent an eternity walking this earth searching for a man who would hold a contract with me, a man who will keep to an agreement that we make. That tonight…' - he turned a circle once more, staring into the soul all of every warrior present before continuing - 'that tonight this one brave man should step forward… take this axe,' - he held the huge axe up high - 'that the man I seek should take this axe and strike my head from my shoulders… while tomorrow as the sun sets I may return and then strike a similar blow to him,' - he looked deeply into the eyes of Uther Pendragon - 'do I ask so much? Surely there is one here tonight, a champion filled with warrior's blood, who will meet these simple terms?'

The answer he received was silence because it smelled so badly of Druids and magic it was impossible to comprehend or make any sense out of.

Uath turned again, taking in all those present. The hall remained silent save for the crackling of the fires. A smile crept over the giant's face and he spat into the fire in scorn, the phlegm hissing as it hit hot embers.

'Silence? You answer me with silence, and so I say there is no champion here, there is no man of honour amongst you.'

Uther leapt to his feet, as did many others each calling their contempt and outrage at the Stranger's words. But it was Duc Gerlois who strode to the centre of the hall and looked up into the giant's face as it towered above him.

'You have no right to call this gathering dishonourable,' he bellowed. 'I will hold fast to my word. I will cut your evil head from your shoulders; I… will answer your challenge.'

'Duc Gerlois, no.' Uther walked around the fire and took the Duc's shoulder. 'This is a trick. This is Druid magic; this is not…'

Gerlois leant forward and spoke in a low voice into Uther's ear. 'This is just Druid tricks, I agree, King Uther, but this is a mortal man, a big one I grant you, but this man can and will be killed. He expects that no man will walk forward and take his challenge.' He turned without waiting for Uther to say anything in reply.

'Kneel then, Uath, the Stranger. Kneel at my feet and I give you my word, I will cut off your head this night, and tomorrow night, if you return, you may take mine.' He smirked as he said these last words and looked around at the gathered warriors. Smiles and no small amount of laughter greeted him as all realised the absurdity of his words. Yet, beside him, Uath the Stranger fell to his knees, placed his huge head upon the oaken log, and waited for the blow to fall.

The hall returned to quiet as the warriors stared at Duc Gerlois, waiting to see if he would pick up the giant's axe. It took a few moments for Gerlois to realise that the giant did indeed expect him to cut his head off, but realise he did, and with no small effort, the Duc lifted the huge axe, tested it's weight in his hands for a moment, and then swung it high.

Firelight caught the blade as it flashed down, whistling its death song as it cut through the air. With a meaty
thwack
, it struck the creature's neck, cleanly cutting through to embed itself in the log beneath. For a moment the head held, and then slowly it lolled forward to thump onto the flagstone floor. Instants later, it was followed by great gouts of blood pumping and spurting past the axe blade from the severed neck splattering those closest with scarlet droplets and hissing where they landed in the fire.

Gerlois stood for a moment gazing down at the bloody mess and then gestured with his hands as if showing all present what he had accomplished. An uncertain smile crept across his features, and then it slowly dropped as the massive body stirred, and then rose to its feet, the lack of its head affecting neither its composure nor poise.

The hall was silent as all stared in awe as the giant, headless body bent down, reached for the axe and rocked it back and forth to lever it from the log. The blade squeaked loud in protest at each effort to rock it free, and then once accomplished, the giant crouched back down to claim its head. Rising, it hugged the shaggy, bloody head against its expansive chest, the face staring outward while blood ran in glistening rivers down from the stump of the severed neck and gore dripped from where its life's essence had so recently flowed. The creature turned and marched through the silent hall towards the great doors, carrying its blood-soaked baggage, the eyes turning within their sockets from side to side offering a look of glowering disdain for all present who had borne witness to this terrible event.

'My father… he would never have…'

Uther's attention was snapped back to the present, and he looked across to Morgana, who had her hand against her mouth. She looked ill. Never one to have much colour, she still appeared whiter than usual, even in the gloomy light of the cell her skin was in stark contrast to the black of her hair and robes.

'Was this all real, or a dream?'

Uther's glanced up to see Maude staring down at him.

'The Druids, they could have placed a spell, poisoned the food… they could have tricked…' Maude's words trailed off.

'Did he come back?' Morgana reached out and clutched at Uther's arm. 'This Stranger… did he return? I don't understand. My father returned with the boats, with you, didn't he? This awful Stranger must not have returned.' She offered a hopeful smile, her grip upon his arm tightening.

Uther sighed, once again feeling the burdens of his life and the need to sleep. He closed his eyes and as he did he heard liquid being poured and caught the familiar smell of the infusion. The bowl was pressed to his lips, and he sipped, it lent him strength, enough at least to answer.

'He came back.' Uther glanced from Morgana to Maude, who was now crouching beside the Abbess. 'He came back as he promised he would, and he was no illusion or figment of our imaginations, Uath the Stranger was very, very real.'

 Chapter 12 
An Oath of Blood

The door to the great hall opened and Duc Gerlois forced his way in past groups of animated warriors fighting, laughing and fooling. As he pushed through towards Uther, the crowd began to quieten and part as they realised it was he who had entered. Every eye turning upon him, every warrior in the hall glad that they were not walking in Gerlois' boots, dead man's boots at the hands of a giant arrived from the deepest of nightmares.

Every man and woman there had witnessed the spectacle of the night before, yet few could still believe what their eyes claimed to have seen. For most, the night had been sleepless and most of the day had been spent talking about and recalling the events that had possibly taken place. Possibly, because how could it have happened? How could a man lose his head and then pick it up and walk away? Yet, it must have taken place because, as was constantly being pointed out, there was a very large log and a huge sticky pool of blood in the centre of the hall. They had thrown down dirt and swept it as best they could, yet the evidence remained as proof that the giant had entered and issued his challenge. Proof that the incredible drama of his decapitation had taken place, and if that was to be believed then it was also proof they had seen the giant pick up his head and walk from the hall. A bridge between worlds had been crossed and it was Gerlois who stood alone upon the other side peering into the Shadowland, and so they stared.

'I walked to the path,' Gerlois hissed as he rounded the great central fire and sank down beside Uther. 'The Druids did not stop me; we can leave.' He glanced up, saw that every tribesman in the hall was still watching him, and then he put his face in his hands. 'He will be back, he will return and he will take my head,' he mumbled, and then he turned to face Uther. 'He will take my head, what do I do?'

Uther reached out and took the Duc's arm. 'What about the Druid trickery? You said it yourself and I agree, this is just a trial, Duc Gerlois. To take the stones, the Druids want to know that they are going to a people who are worthy, who have honour. I do not believe that when the giant returns, that he will cut your head off,' - he shook his own head - 'you started this because you are brave, and so you have to go through with it. You have to play this Druid game. When he walks through that door, you…'

'All so easy for you to say, my King,' hissed Gerlois through clenched teeth, he was sweating, his eyes darting about. He fumbled with a knife and stabbed it into the table angrily. 'You are not the one who is going to have to put his head on that stump and… I know that I was the one, but…' he left the sentence unfinished.

'You will prove we have both honour and courage in abundance, my friend. I do not believe the Druids would hold with this for long, allowing this Stranger to enter their sacred place and murder their guests, it is too incredible to be believed. I say again, you were right when you said that this was just a Druid trick, they are playing with us once more. Hold to this Gerlois, and you will get through this and we will return triumphantly with the stones.' Uther clasped him by the shoulder and after a moment, the Duc, somewhat reluctantly, nodded.

By late morning, the warriors were restless at being so confined and several fights had already broken out. Uther knew that being restrained in the hall like this was going to end in further disagreements and before long, bloodshed. When asked about them leaving, Finis had no problem other than suggesting that they should stay low on the mountain and not try to take the path up towards the stones.

'The Druid Council is meeting there with Merlyn and others. They will have completed their business and the rituals that are necessary within just a few days.' He smiled, looking deeply into Uther's eyes and nodded his head as if hearing something. 'Might I guide you to see the waterfalls, we could be there and back before nightfall?'

Despite finding the Druid infuriating, the idea of walking his men for most of the day appealed to Uther and so he agreed and they trailed out behind Finis, following him through the cave past the community of Druids. Each Druid paused as they went by, halting whatever intricate complexity of Druidic life that they were involved in to watch them pass, before going back to mumbling, swaying, chanting or sitting as still as stone staring off into the darkness, as was their way.

Once they arrived outside and into the comfort of a drizzling rain, the warriors were visibly relieved to be away from the Druids and once more under a leaden sky that was, at least, familiar and something they could understand.

They followed after Finis as he led them on the trail. At first, it twisted and turned back the same way that they had first arrived, through the meadows and woodland, but where the path they had followed dropped down towards the settlement of Difelyn, they instead turned upwards over a small hill and on towards the next valley. By midday, they had again risen to new heights and were walking through lush green woodland dripping with the rain that was falling above them through a high canopy of leaves, and when they finally emerged, it was to see a huge waterfall splashing a torrent of water down into a pool at its base.

It was impressive, a true wonder of nature, and Uther could see why it was favoured by the Druids. A hawthorn tree, covered with small pieces of cloth torn from the cloaks and clothes of visitors grew close to the pool and beside it, an enormous upright stone stood towering over the visiting warriors – runes, cut crisp and clearly, showed upon its surface. While the warriors spread out, avoiding the stone, Finis walked to it and started a small fire at its base using a piece of glowing ember that he had carried from the Druid cave in a small clay pot that was hung from his neck on a cord and some dry twigs pulled from his robe. The blackened rocks around the base of the stone showed that this was a regular ritual. When he had a small blaze going, he smothered it with green leaves and smoke billowed up and drifted around the edge of the pool.

'This is a ritual practiced here,' said Finis as Uther looked on. Behind Uther the warriors were spreading around the clearing, some laughing and joking as they hunted the few deer that had been seen, scattering when they first came out of the woods, while others were content to sharpen blades or rest. It was too cold to swim.

'With this ritual we call upon the three worlds of land, water, and sky,' - he gestured towards the smoke as it drifted around the pool - 'the smoke is our pathway touching each of the worlds and it is through this that we are able to talk with the spirits of the ancestors who abide here.'

'You speak with those that have died? With people who have walked this land in times before? Would they know the history of the stones?' Uther asked, but wasn't sure how much he wanted to know. He had spoken with Merlyn many times but never felt much the wiser for the conversations.

'Perhaps they do… we shall see. I am able to speak with the dead as we all are if we would but listen. For they are in the wind which touches us, in the air that we breathe and within our words spoken and the songs that we sing.' Finis smiled and wafted smoke towards his face and then out towards the pond. 'They are all around us; they are in the waters of our land, in the rivers and within this pool, which holds so much memory. They are in the earth that nourished them with food and which their bodies nourished in turn when they died. Our ancestors are in our blood and in the stories told, in the mistakes we make, and in the lessons we have learned. They are also in each child's smile, in every ploughed field and in each glimpse of hope. Our ancestors are all around, but also, within us, it just takes a little effort and understanding to call upon them and ask for their guidance.' He smiled, sank to his knees and began to speak in soft tones as the smoke continued to swirl about him.

Uther stepped back, glanced about in case an ancestor should show himself, and then decided to leave the Druid to his ritual. It was always better not to try and understand what Druids were doing. He looked for Duc Gerlois, but could not see him, so he joined Sir Ector.

The old warrior was talking with several others, discussing the imminent return of Uath the Stranger. One voice was raised suggesting that they should all bring the giant to battle as soon as he entered the hall. Uther was about to interject, but stopped and listened as Sir Ector tried patiently to explain that if they all fought him, then there was no way that the Druids would see they had any honour, and they would not be able to take the stones; a point that Uther had already come to.

As he approached, they all stood. 'Do not fret. We are merely pieces within these Druid games, nothing more,' said Uther as he crouched down beside them. 'It pleases them to taunt and play with us like this. Duc Gerlois will be spared at the last moment, and we shall all be celebrated as worthy and honourable men.'

'But the Duc is not here, Uther. We were just discussing when he was last seen. I am not sure he even joined us on this small journey today.' Sir Ector shrugged.

Uther shook his head. 'He would not leave. He will be waiting back in the hall when we return, or he will join us shortly. I have faith in him.' He stared around at the warriors, saw the looks in their eyes, and began to feel his faith slip slowly away. If the Duc was a coward, then he was jeopardising the whole quest, betraying them all.

When they returned to the hall within the mouth of the mountain, the Duc was not there.

Druids, both male and female brought in platters of food, ale and mead and the warriors, hungry from their day's walk, were happy to be so entertained. Wrestling matches were pitched between warriors of different tribes and there were contests with axe and spear.

It was late and the mood somewhat more sombre when the heavy doors were thrown back with a great crash that echoed about both the hall and the cave outside, and let in a gust of cold wind and the smell of falling rain. The giant figure of Uath the Stranger stooped to enter. Whole once more, without a single mark on his great thick neck, Uath strode into the hall cradling the heavy axe in his hands. He slowed his pace and walked slowly towards the central fire, glowering at the warriors who were once again struck dumb with awe. When at last he reached the hearth and the oaken log set before it, he stood silent and unmoving, his thumb rubbing against the axe blade, the rasping noise that it made the only sound beyond the crackling of the fires. After some moments of contemplation, he turned a slow complete circle, and seeing that Duc Gerlois was not in attendance, he hung his head, shook it slowly in sadness and then spat upon the stones of the floor, but as he did, a voice rose from the back of the hall.

'I am ready to honour your challenge, giant… I am ready to strike your head from your shoulders, and when you return tomorrow, I shall not fear to offer you the same pact.' Cunobelin walked from the ranks of warriors and, standing in front of the towering figure, accepted the proffered axe amid a cacophony of noise, calls of encouragement and lament, anger and fear, slowly the sounds died.

The giant met the warrior's gaze for one long moment, then shrugged and knelt beside the oaken log, placing his head so that it might be cleanly struck.

Wasting no time, Cunobelin cried out as, with all his strength, he lifted and swung the huge axe, and with all the force he could muster, struck.

'
Ahhhhh yuhhhh!
' The axe met the log with a solid '
thunk,
' cutting cleanly through the neck, parting the head from the shoulders with such force, that it bounced across the flagstones with great gouts of blood pumping after it, spraying across every warrior seated within five paces. Cunobelin let go of the axe and stepped back.

A moment later, the giant's body rose, walked around the log and with blood still pumping from the ruined stump of its neck, levered the axe free from the wood, and then crossed to where his head had rolled to lay beside one of the great carved beams that supported the roof of the hall. As before, he picked it up and held it with the face staring outwards. The eyes rolled around in their sockets for a moment, and then settled and glared from side to side at the warriors who had witnessed its torment, and then the giant slowly walked to the door and left.