The Silver Hand (41 page)

“Yes, now. Quickly.”

Cynan called Bran and Alun to take charge of the other two strangers, and they began treading the circle I had inscribed. When they had finished, I said, “Now take the strangers to the center, where the two roads cross. Hurry!”

“It is done,” reported Bran a few moments later. “What would you have us do now?”

“Unbind them so that they do no injury to themselves,” I directed.

Upon finishing this task, Cynan said, “It is done.”

“Leave them where they stand, and take your place with us outside the ring,” I answered. “Keep your spears at the ready.”

The men obeyed, whereupon Llew asked, “And now?”

“And now we wait.”

“What will happen?” asked Bran.

“That you will soon discover,” I replied. “Tell me what you see.”

We waited. I listened carefully and heard only the sound of the men's breathing.

After a while, Cynan complained, “Nothing is happening.”

“Just wait,” Llew told him.

“But it is almost daybreak, and—”

“Quiet!”

At this exchange, one of the strangers shifted—I heard his feet on the paving stones. Alun Tringad gasped, “Did you see?”

“What?” Llew asked. “I saw nothing.”

Cynan grew excited. “Something is happening!”

Twrch barked sharply.

“Tell me what you see. Describe it!”

“I see water! It looks like water—as if they are covered with water,” he said.

“Are they sinking into the water?” I asked.

“No, they are as before; they have not moved,” Llew told me. “But they are changing shape—rippling. They appear as a reflection in water.”

I grasped then what he meant. It was the time-between-times. The Dyn Dythri stood on the threshold, but they must be driven across and into their own world.

“That is well,” I said. “Now, Cynan—you and your men take your spears and raise them. At my sign, all of you shout at once: rush at the strangers as if you would chase them. But do not go into the circle yourselves. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said and called to the guards to ready themselves for a feinting charge.

“Hurry!” cried Llew.

I raised my staff high and brought it down quickly. “Now!”

With a wild shout, Cynan and the warriors leapt at the strangers. I heard the confused cry, and the sound of someone stumbling and falling with a grunt. “What is happening?”

“It is—they are going,” Llew told me. “They are crossing over. One if them is gone already—I cannot see him. He has disappeared! And now Weston is going . . . he is—” Llew broke off.

“What is it? Llew?”

He made no answer, but I felt him start forward. “No! Llew, come back!”

“Nettles!” he cried. “Wait!”

I thrust out my hand and caught the trailing edge of his cloak as he darted forward. “Llew! Stop!”

I held tight to his cloak. He struggled forward. “Let me go!”

“Llew! Stay!”

Twerch barked wildly.

Llew shrugged off the cloak and rushed forward into the circle. Cynan called him back. Bran shouted . . . but he vanished—and Llew with them.

“Why did he go?” asked Cynan, when he found his tongue.

“I do not know. Perhaps he saw something . . .”

“What? I do not understand. Why would he leave us?”

“I cannot say.”

We waited in the awkward stillness after the tumult of the moment. The breeze lifted as the sun rose. Cynan touched my arm gently. “I think we should go from here.” Regret and shock made his voice sound strange in my ear.

“Yes,” I agreed.

When I made no move, he touched me again. “Soon,” he said. “It is growing light.”

“We will leave soon.”

He called to his men, and they began moving toward the horses and chariots. I stood alone, struggling still to comprehend what had happened. I heard hooves on the road behind me; Bran, mounted, led my horse to me, and pressed the reins into my hand.

“Come,” he said. “He is gone.”

Clutching my staff, I raised myself slowly into the saddle. My companions were already moving away. I could hear the hollow clop of hooves on the road, and the slight grumble of the chariot wheels. I paused, hoping that my inward sight would awaken and I would see something . . . but my inward eye remained dark. So I lifted the reins and turned my horse to follow the others.

Even as I turned, I heard Twrch whine softly—a plaintive cry for his missing master. I did not need to see him to know that the hound still stood gazing at the place where he had seen Llew disappear; he had not moved.

I whistled to him softly. When he did not respond, I called him. “Come, Twrch.”

But the dog did not move.

“Twrch!” I called more sharply. “Come, boy!”

When the hound refused my command, I wheeled the horse and returned to the crossroads. I dismounted and, guided by his whine, laid my hands on the hound, grasped his chain-link collar and pulled. The dog paid no heed to my effort; and, though his forefeet were lifted from the ground, Twrch remained firmly planted on the road.

“Twrch! Come!” I jerked the iron links hard. The stubborn animal did not give ground. I jerked the collar again; the dog yelped in pain, but did not budge. “Twrch!”

I did not like hurting him but I could not shift the beast. Yet I could not leave him there. I would need a rope to drag him away. I turned and called to Cynan. Twrch barked.

I turned back and stooped to the dog, stretching my hand toward his collar. The canny beast must have sensed my intent, for he dodged to the side before I could lay hold of him again. “Twrch! Stop it! Come, boy.”

I lurched forward, tripped on a paving stone, and fell to my knees. The staff flew from my hands. I caught the hound by a handful of fur and held on. Fumbling for the dog's collar with the other hand, I struggled to my feet. Twrch barked again, loudly, furiously, and bounded forward, dragging me with him.

I fell onto the road, and the dog twisted and broke free. “Twrch!” I called, scrambling to my feet. “Here, boy! Come, Twrch!”

I stepped forward. Twrch barked sharply—once, twice . . . The sound seemed to come from a great distance. And then all I heard was the sound of my own footsteps upon the crossroad stones.

I squatted down and began patting the road around me for my staff. I heard a sound like that of a rush of air, but I felt nothing. Instinctively, I thrust out my hands.

My flailing arm connected with a living body.

I struck out again. To my surprise the body collapsed and toppled over me, sending me once more sprawling onto the road. I fought my attacker, swinging my arms and kicking my legs—landing blows by chance.

“Tegid!” someone cried. I swung my fist toward the sound. A hand seized my wrist in midair and held it. “Tegid! Stop it,Tegid!”

The voice was Llew's. And it was Llew who stood over me.

“Llew! You came back.”

He released my hand, then sank to his knees beside me, panting. He was so out of breath that it was some time before he could speak normally. I seized and shook him.

“Llew! What are you doing? Why did you leave?”

“Here, help me,” Llew said. “Nettles—”

Only then did I realize what he had done. “Nettles is with you?”

“Y-yes,” replied Llew, gulping air. “I went—after him . . . I brought him back with me . . .”

Bran appeared beside me. He caught me by the arm and pulled me to my feet. “What has happened?” he asked, as mystified by Llew's sudden reappearance as by his equally abrupt departure.

“He has crossed the sword bridge between the worlds to bring the stranger back.”

“Why?”

“I do not know.”

“Where is Twrch?” Bran asked.

“The dog followed his master,” I replied. “But, unlike Llew, he did not return.”

“Twrch followed me?” Llew wondered.

“Yes,” I told him, harshly—for I was angry with him. “I tried to prevent it, but I could not hold him back. Twrch is gone. And I do not think he will find his way back to us.”

The sound of iron hooves striking the paving stones clattered behind us and, with a shout, Cynan threw himself upon us—as if to disentangle two combatants—seizing us in his hands and pulling us apart.

“Peace!” Bran cried. “Cynan, peace! It is Llew!”

“Llew!” Cynan hauled Llew to his feet.

The sun was well risen now—I could feel the warmth of its rays full on my face. To Cynan I said, “Can you find your way home, do you think?”

“I found the way here in the dark, did I not?” Cynan sniffed scornfully.

“Then lead the way. We should be gone from here.”

Cynan called for Llew's horse to be brought, and I turned to where Llew stooped over Nettles's slight body. He was speaking to the small man in their rough tongue, but straightened when I touched him. “He is well. He can ride in one of the chariots.”

“And you?”

“I am unharmed,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry, Tegid. I would have warned you, but I thought of it too late.”

Nettles uttered something in his broken speech and Llew answered him. To me he said, “I had to do it, Tegid. They would have murdered him. Weston would have killed Nettles when they got back. Besides, I think we will need him with us. He knows much that can help us.”

“Very well,” I said. “No doubt it is for the best. Come—”

“We will have to teach him the language—you can do that, Tegid. You taught me, after all. And Nettles will be quick to learn—he already knows a very great deal. As I say—”

“Say no more now,” I urged. “In truth, I am not against you in this. We will talk later. But we should go.”

The sound of the chariots rumbling over the stones of the sarn made a dull thunder in our ears as they returned—which is why we did not hear the enemy riders until they were almost upon us.

31
T
RAFFERTH

R
ide! All of you!” Cynan shouted. I heard the grating ring of a sword unsheathed. “Away! I will meet them!”

“How many are there?” I called.

“Twenty, I think,” Llew said. “Maybe more. I cannot tell.”

“Go!” urged Cynan.

“We stand together,” Llew said. Bran and Alun backed Llew's decision, and the warriors voiced their acclaim. “But,” Llew added, “it is two of them to every one; of us. What do you suggest?”

“We have chariots,” Cynan pointed out. “We can do a great deal of damage with those. I will take one, let Bran drive the other.”

“Right,” Llew said. He spoke a quick command to Bran and then turned to me. “Tegid, take Nettles with you. Remain on the road. We will join you when we can.”

“I am staying,” I said.

“You could get away—”

“I am staying.”

Llew did not have time to argue. “Stay then,” he said. I heard the slap of leather across a horse's withers and a confusion of men's voices shouting orders, hooves clattering on the paving stones, and the cries of the enemy warriors as they drew nearer.

Someone ran to me. “Hold our horses,” said Alun Tringad, pressing the reins into my hand and racing away again.

“Follow me!” Cynan shouted. “Hie! Hie-yah!”

The hammer-sharp ring of iron-shod hooves sounded on the sarn as the warriors swept past. My inward eye awakened instantly at the noise, and I saw before me the level road and two chariots on it. Cynan drove the first, speeding toward a tight-clustered war band of twenty or more enemy warriors. Bran stood in the second chariot to the left of Cynan and Alun drove it, matching Cynan for pace. Llew rode to Cynan's right, with the remaining warriors around him.

A voice spoke beside me. “
Trafferth
?”

I glanced down to see Nettles looking up at me. He repeated the word again. “Trafferth?”

He was trying to speak to me in our tongue. Although his utterance was rough, I understood his meaning. “Yes,” I told him, “trouble.”

I do not know if he understood me, but he nodded and turned his eyes back to the battle. My inner sight shifted, and I saw the two lines hurtling towards one another—but I viewed it from high, high above with the eye of a soaring hawk.

I saw the sleek necks of the horses straining toward the clash, heads thrusting, nostrils flared, flecks of foam streaming from their mouths. I saw Cynan, red hair like a firebrand above gleaming shoulders, muscles bunched as he drove the chariot, a bundle of spears ready to hand; Llew, sword at his side, spear lofted high; and Bran standing like an oak in the center of the second chariot, three spears in his hand, while Alun, head down, reins gathered in his fists, shouted hearty encouragement to his team. I saw the warriors, fierce in the fight, sword and spear in hand, blades keen, spear points glinting hard and sharp in bright morning light. The legs of the horses blurred with speed, stretching and gathering, hooves pounding—a dull thunder on the earth.

The enemy swept ever nearer, spreading in a wide arc to surround and contain the battle with their superior numbers. They held spears and long shields; their horses wore chest plates and leggings of bronze, and long-horned headpieces. Several of the warriors wore horned war caps, and one of them carried a carynx curving from waist to shoulder like an enormous serpent. Their faces were hard: fierce determination burned in their narrowed eyes. From the look of them, they were members of Meldron's Wolf Pack—which meant that the Great Hound must be very close at hand.

The two battle lines swept closer. I braced myself inwardly for the clash, gritting my teeth.

Cynan and Alun drove for the center of the enemy line and severed it as enemy warriors scattered on either side—avoiding the chariots and fixing on the mounted warriors instead. But Llew and the others remained well behind, so that the enemy could not take them head-on and blunt the attack.