Leaping Wolf, page 42
part #2 of Caledon Saga Series
‘We shall see.’
She didn’t want to tell him that this plan was assuming that things went well the next day. There was always a chance that Caserach would threaten enough chiefs to demand them to reconsider her death. She fumed quietly. There were few enough options open to her to try to stop him. He’d been a clever bastard in bringing Broad Kellas with him.
Rhia felt despair threaten her spirit again. She hated herself for her weakness but she just wanted to take her boy in her arms and go to sleep for a year. I am so tired of being strong, is that so bad? Once again Lucan looked up at her with concern.
‘Mama?’
Rhia looked down at him. His face was determined and her mind went back to the day they and Marius had been overtaken by Gaian scouts, back when they’d been fleeing from Tamora past the Canwyns. All had seemed lost and this tiny child had picked up a stick and stood ready to defend his mother against her enemies. Her brave boy. So like his father. She reached out and stroked his hair.
‘Just tired, my sweet. Just tired.’
He seemed to accept that as an answer and after a couple of heartbeats he sat back, leaning his head against her leg. Rhia kept stroking his hair, trying her best to hide her fears. It had reached a point where the very best she could hope for was that she could return to Tamora and never see her home again. Lucan would grow up as an exile, in a place where men would someday plan to invade his former home. But will it be with his mother, who can at least teach him who he is? Or will he grow up there alone, orphaned by his own people? Lucan’s hair was soft beneath her stroking hand, and it was all Rhia could do to hold back her tears.
Chapter 36. Walking
Gawan was walking more out of habit than because he had to be anywhere. He’d found before that the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other often helped to clear his head in times of stress. Not that it was helping him tonight. Tonight he had already walked two circuits of Bryngarth’s defences and still his mind remained in turmoil. Rhianwyn’s cause was lost. Her chiefs would banish her at best, and with her would go the best hopes of both the Caderyn and the Gorvicae. And once she was gone he would never see her again. It was that more than anything else that was making his head spin. Guilt at having failed his people or for having caused harm to a chieftain, those were things he could understand. His own feelings however were a mess of confusion and try though he might, he couldn‘t struggle through them.
He found himself back at the spot where he had started and changed his direction without really thinking about it, plodding down the hill in a lazy spiral. The strange thing was that he couldn’t even blame his reaction on a simple moment of lust any more. To his shame he still thought about Rhianwyn’s body sometimes but he knew it was more than a simple yearning for flesh that was making his heart so heavy. More than the thought of never seeing her again, he felt weighed down by the knowledge that she was about to lose so much, having already suffered more than any soul her age ought to have suffered. She loved her tribe with an almost blinding fierceness, and Gawan dreaded to think of the beating her spirit would take from this banishment. When the verdict had been spoken he had seen the look in her eyes, and mask or not it had been clear to him that she was crushed. And what did you do to help her?
Gawan kicked angrily at a stone and watched it bounce down the hillside in the grey moonlight. Hopefully the sentence would not be worsened tomorrow, but there were no guarantees. Caserach had until Belenos reached his zenith to spread poison among the headmen, and who knew what mischief the bastard might cause in that time? Was it worth speaking to Galerian about having men ready in case of trouble? If the Darin succeeded in intimidating enough people then Rhianwyn’s life might still be in danger. Even if he doesn’t, that murderous bastard won’t be letting her ride away quietly to Tamora. The general would surely agree to escort her on the road, but there would be plenty of chance for Caserach to arrange some harm to her before then. Did he dare return to his plan to remove her from Bryngarth by force? The Gadarim scratched irritably at his scalp. Involving the Gaians had caused enough damage already, but if it meant saving Rhianwyn, was it a risk worth taking?
He trudged down the hill, feeling lost and defeated. He’d been so sure that Taliesyn’s words would sway them. The young chief had probably expected the same thing. Tegwen had been waiting for them both when they left the hall but Gawan hadn’t found it in him to do much more than nod to her, and he had left it to her lover to explain what had happened inside. Tegwen had tried to speak comfortingly but neither man had been particularly amenable to it, though Taliesyn had tried his best to seem positive. Gawan had simply grunted and wandered off upon his walk.
He meandered down the slope, his eyes on the ground. Whether by the hand of her people or by Caserach’s scheming, Rhianwyn would be in danger from the moment she left the longhall tomorrow. If he asked Galerian to take her from the town by force the Gaian would almost certainly do it, but what might that lead to? If Alraig sent word to Nantwyn for the Dragon Legion to take her back again then it would mean war, and not just with a renegade general this time. This time it would be war with the whole Gaian Empire, and with Karadoc and Caserach’s undoing of the Caledon the tribes would be all but helpless. Rhianwyn would not want to be saved if that was the cost of it. Gawan knew he had his answer and that as her brother Gadarim he should respect her wishes. But the thought of her dying made his stomach turn and his palms sweat, and he found himself thinking that he didn’t give a damn about what she wanted. He wanted her alive! He slashed his hand at a nearby sapling and cursed himself for his weakness. This was no way for a son of Mabonac to think.
He reached the base of the hill and looked away northwards. The moon was bright, even through the clouds, and he could see the beginnings of the woods clearly enough. Without thinking he walked towards them, half-wondering if he might find another forest spirit in there. The last time he had wandered at night, alone and confused, the old man had found him and spun riddles to confuse him further. If he found a sprite in the woods tonight he wouldn’t be waiting to hear his fortune told. He would take it by the throat and strangle some answers from it, and magic and curses be damned! Not that he really expected to find anyone. To meet one spirit was rare enough, and he had disappointed the gods enough by now; they were unlikely to encourage a second meeting. Or not a peaceful one anyway.
He plodded slowly across the open land until he reached the treeline. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered the last time he had come to these woods, with a woman who had loved him by his side. He almost growled. Maybe everyone would be better off if he just walked in here and didn’t come out; if he found himself a spirit and it tore him apart. He had failed his fellow Gadarim, he had failed Emeryn, he had failed his father, his brother, his daughter and his friend. He had failed Rhianwyn. He had failed his people.
He strode into the trees, careless for what might lie beyond them. Let Jarinn and Echan and all their goblins come and find him if they would, it didn’t matter. The leaves crunched under his feet and ferns swished past his legs but otherwise the woods were silent. Once into the trees the moonlight became faint, and strange shadows leaned this way and that between the trunks. Gawan wandered on in no particular direction, no real thought to where he was going or why he was going there. He didn’t care anymore.
After a while he stopped moving and looked around him. The trees loomed overhead and the undergrowth lurked darkly between them but otherwise there was nothing much to see. There were no sprites in the trees, no cryptic old men, no cackling goblins, no tempting sylphs. The wood was empty and silent, and completely indifferent. For some reason Gawan found his misery giving way to anger and he lashed out at the nearest branch. It splintered beneath his knuckles but didn’t break, and Gawan ignored the hot pain in his hand as he shouted out to the darkness.
‘Well? Have you nothing to say?’
He didn’t know what he had expected to happen when he came in here, but the wood’s refusal to yield anything but silence was infuriating. He tried to think of the gods he most respected like Taran and Mabonac, but even they seemed to have abandoned him. He roared out his challenge to Mehine or Karanon, or whoever else might be lurking in the black-and-grey trees.
‘Damn you all then! Damn you all with your tricks and omens!’
He felt blood pumping hard through his limbs and kept staring into the trees, half-hoping for some sprite or another to appear so that he could attack it. Rhianwyn had given everything for this land, and her gods had abandoned her just as surely as they had abandoned him. Let something of their world step forward, just something that I can call to account for all this. He sighed. Something I can blame besides myself. The thought threatened to douse his anger and he fought to keep it going, but a voice from the dark distracted him from his rage.
‘Hello?’
The Gadarim spun around with his fists clenched and ready, but even halfway through the turn he was slowing himself down. The voice had been quiet, timid even; not the voice of a being about to confront someone. All the same it was hard to conceal his shock when he saw young Lucan half-hidden behind a beech, his face pale in the silvery light. For a heartbeat Gawan was struck for words and the boy shrank away a little. The Gorvic shook his head, trying to clear it.
‘So,’ he began, and he faltered a little before continuing. ‘You did not learn much from that smack I gave you last time?’
Lucan stayed behind his tree and looked down guiltily, but then he managed to give a little shrug. Gawan approached him slowly.
‘What in Taran’s name are you doing out here?’
The boy kept his eyes on the ground but did not back away.
‘I slipped off when Auntie Olla thought I was asleep.’ He gestured weakly with one hand. ‘I was looking for a spirit to help Mother. She thinks I don’t know but she’s afraid.’ He looked up at Gawan, his face distraught. ‘She’s never afraid.’
Gawan sighed. The boy had a good heart but none of his parents’ wisdom.
‘You want to be careful out in the woods my boy. Dangerous things live here.’
Upset though he was Lucan didn’t seem afraid and he shrugged his tiny shoulders again.
‘They seem friendly. And they’ll want to help my mother.’
Gawan frowned at him as some of his anger came back and the boy shifted a little closer to his tree.
‘Woodland sprites can be vicious.’
Lucan shuffled his feet a little but then looked up at the warrior.
‘Father said the gods were good if we are good to them. Spirits too.’
Gawan remembered how Anryn had always said similar things, not that he’d seen that much evidence of it. All the same it wouldn’t do to crush the boy too much and he softened his voice as best he could.
‘It is true that some creatures are kind or guiding, but plenty are still dangerous to little boys.’
And to grown men. Lucan nodded, looking downcast, and Gawan moved closer to him, squatting down slowly so as not to tower over him. He had no real experience with children but he did his best to talk without scaring him.
‘Whatever they are, you cannot solve anything by running off to seek godly help. Your mother needs you more than she needs some woodland sprite. You make her strong.’
Gawan thought back to the cocky girl he’d met the first time he’d come to Bryngarth, and the grown woman who had returned there with her son. Marius had probably been a part of what changed her, and Mabonac had likely done much to give her courage, but everything that he had seen of her told him Lucan was the true source of her strength. He wondered sadly if knowing Tegwen earlier on might have made him a stronger man but he pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time.
He stretched a hand towards the boy and spoke as gently as he could.
‘Come along.’
Lucan hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping away from the tree, and he placed his hand into Gawan’s, wrapping his whole fist around just three of the big man’s fingers. It was an odd feeling but not unpleasant and Gawan looked around to get his bearings before leading the boy away. Though it wasn’t easy in the dark he roughly traced his own footsteps through the trees, only occasionally having to stop to check his way. Lucan stayed unusually quiet as they trudged through the undergrowth and Gawan found himself thinking on what he’d just said to the boy. It was true that the gods couldn’t solve their problems, but trying to solve everything by fighting was just as foolish a method. Damn it all, but he had learned that the hard way. Maybe the only way left is to use your mind and your will alone, and draw what strength you can from those around you. After all, Lucan made Rhianwyn stronger than he had ever been. Gawan resolved that no matter what else he would do all he could to be there for Tegwen, even if he still had no idea what he could do to help Rhianwyn.
They were not far from the treeline when Lucan spoke up again.
‘I heard some people talking.’ He looked up at Gawan. ‘Has my mother done something bad?’
He said it in a way that suggested such a thing was almost impossible, but Gawan heard the tiny note of doubt in his voice. His first instinct was to defend her, to give him the reasons for why she’d done what she’d done and explain that she had acted with best intentions. But a child couldn’t be expected to understand something like that and it would only confuse the lad further. All the same it didn’t seem right to just give him a simple ‘no’ and so he considered for a moment before he answered.
‘Your mother always does what she thinks is right, no matter what anyone else may think. Sometimes people have to make hard choices to do that. And then they must stick by them.’
Lucan nodded, though Gawan wasn’t sure how much he had understood, and once again he found himself pondering on his own words. Tarwyn made a choice as well. And he stuck by it.
‘He did indeed.’
The voice almost made Gawan jump out of his skin and his hand flew to Heartreaver’s grip. It had come from ahead of them and when he looked he saw a figure in white who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He was approaching them slowly with his hands clasped in front of him, and it took Gawan a moment to recognise the sombre young druid. It was Bael. The holy man nodded to Lucan, who did not seem at all surprised, before turning back to face Gawan. His blue eyes were piercing but still kindly.
‘As did Emeryn, and as did Rylion. We all make our choices and we all have to live with them.’
The First Man felt a prickling of fear run down his back. The druid had read his thoughts! Bael’s mouth twitched up at one corner before he spoke, but most of the smile was coming from his eyes.
‘You are many things my Gorvic friend, but a fast learner is not one of them.’
Gawan didn’t know what to say to that. The words themselves might sound like an insult but they were said with no distain, and if anything the young druid seemed fondly amused for a moment. Then his voice became serious once again.
‘Choice is all. You are not a blameless man, Gawan son of Dearg, and you do have ill deeds to atone for. But much of that for which you blame yourself was done by choices that were not your own. You did not make Tarwyn or Emeryn fight at Moon Ridge. You did not make Rylion nurture his hatred for you instead of embracing his own life. You did not draw Rhianwyn into her current predicament. You have made mistakes, as have we all, and some of them have had costs.’ He took a step closer and his gaze contained wisdom far beyond the young man’s years. ‘We all of us make choices Gawan, and then we live with them.’
For a moment the Gorvic was certain that he was speaking of someone else but then the holy man reached out to touch his arm. Despite the chill of the night his hand was warm, and something very like dragonfire began to ease its way into the Gadarim’s blood. Gawan completely forgot what he’d been thinking as the heat flowed through his body. It was the same, and yet not the same; the same warmth that he found in Mabonac’s fire but without the searing heat of war that always came with it. Once again the druid smiled with just his shining eyes and he gestured towards the treeline.
‘Come.’
He turned and started walking, his bare feet making no sound on the grass, and Gawan started following, not sure what else to do. Lucan stayed by his side, still completely unconcerned, and they soon reached the edge of the shadowy woodland. He saw Bael pick up a staff from where he’d leaned it against an oak and he cast his eyes towards the hill of Bryngarth.
‘Courage may soon be needed along with wisdom and guile.’ He turned back to look at them. ‘We may yet help Rhianwyn resolve what has come from her own choices.’
Chapter 37. The Druid
The warmth of Bael’s magic had almost worn off by morning, though Gawan still felt its remnants flowing through him. Even given time to grow accustomed to it, the sensation was still strange. It was as if Mabonac’s fire had been softened without losing any of its power; the heat without the fury. It had been a long time since he last felt dragonfire while his mind was calm, and he felt almost at ease. Almost at peace. The druid had said little enough about his plan but Gawan knew that he was coming to Rhianwyn’s aid, and he embraced that quiet hope as he waited outside the longhall.
The morning light was still gentle but already the headmen were gathering to hear the decision of their seniors. The rest of the tribe would have to wait for the announcement at midday but that hadn’t stopped dozens of Caderyn men and women from loitering in the area, all eager for some whisper of their chieftain’s fate. Gawan liked to think that most of them would be hoping for leniency for Rhianwyn, but beyond their obvious anxiety it was difficult to tell what they were thinking. Just as jittery as anyone was Tegwen, who was trying not to fidget as she waited with her father. She stamped her feet a few times, more in impatience than to ward off the morning chill.
