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lust. 'Twas a mystery to
Helebore what motivated someone of such limited mental capacity to long for
immortality not that Ifor was in any danger of getting it. Helebore would not
be so cruel as to condemn the man to eon after eon of a coarse and brutish
existence.
A sadist's smile twisted his mouth. Elixir of life, indeed. Poppy juice in
wine could transport a man to a netherworld, or, in sufficient quantity with a
hint of foxglove, to the underworld, and he feared 'twas to the latter that
Ifor would be going. Quick justice for the murderer to follow the mage into an
early grave.
Caradoc would be enraged. Since seeing his old friend, he'd become quite
obsessed with the idea of having Lavrans at Balor.
Helebore's lips curled in distaste. Disgusting, disgusting creatures. Bad
enough to yearn for a woman, let alone to yield to one's desires and bring a
viper into your nest. Caradoc's foolishness would get him naught but a memory
to warm his sick heart.
"Wydehaw!" The cry came from the front of the line, and as a man, the riders
kicked their horses into a gallop. The day's deed was upon them.
Chapter 21
"How many days out from Wydehaw are we, do ye figure, Morgan?" Rhys asked,
passing a leather jack of ale to Dafydd as they worked at breaking camp in the
morning light. A gentle rain had blown up from the south, warmer and sweeter
than the spring rains had been thus far.
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"Two, if the mountains don't turn to mud." Morgan looked to Owain on his left.
The big man grinned.
Next to him, Rhodri and Drew let out loud guffaws. The lad's infatuation with
Ceridwen ab Arawn had not abated with the passing of a month's time and, in
fact, had reached new heights since their coming from Balor a night past.
Ceridwen had not yet been delivered to her betrothed, who himself had not been
in residence. Gone toCardiff , the seneschal had told them, while declining to
offer them hospitality they would not have accepted.
They had not ridden south to Wydehaw from Dolwyddelan in early April as Morgan
had planned, but had been sent farther north by Llywelyn to fight English
raiders on the eastern border. The Prince of
Gwynedd had not thought the fate of one maid to be of much importance, other
than to further indebt
Caradoc to him. Holding the reins of power inWales meant ruling among
ever-shifting alliances, and
Llywelyn assured Morgan that he did not overestimate Caradoc's loyalty. As to
the Boar's unsuitability for marriage, Llywelyn had smiled and told Morgan
most men were unsuited to marriage.
Yet Morgan could not dispel a sense of unease. A man on his way toCardiff
would pass within hailing distance of Wydehaw, and though they would have
heard about it in the north if the castle had been attacked, such was not the
same for the death of a lone Dane living in a tower. Dain had no princely
protection inWales , nor the protection ofEngland 's king, and Caradoc had not
been pleased by the price Dain had set for the maid.
Morgan had seen for himself how little it took to push Caradoc into a rage.
D'Arbois might put up a fight to save his mage, but Soren was no match for the
Boar of Balor. Dain was, but not against the Boar and a traveling force of
men.
A soft breeze brought new rain against his face. He should not have stayed
gone so long. Dain had more wits than most and had survived worse than
Caradoc's anger, but neither of those facts lessened
Morgan's sense of responsibility, and the farther south they traveled, the
surer Morgan was that he should have come quicker. The damned English had
taken too long to rout, and though Llywelyn had his loyalty, he would not see
harm come to his friend, not without first putting himself in the way of it.
Llynya stood quaking in her boots, no less than a befuddled sapling besieged
by a cold wind. Rhuddlan was furious. She'd left her post. She'd left Dain and
Ceridwen, and as quickly as that, they'd left the glade and were nowhere to be
found.
Too much leaving all way around, to her way of thinking.
The Quicken-tree leader had sent scouts to the south Shay with them and was
shorthanded in the search for her charges. The last remaining scout, Mia, had
been sent to head them off from Wydehaw, the most logical destination, but
Rhuddlan feared she would be too late. Dain moved near as quickly as
thetylwyth tegin the woods. Llynya had begged to go and been flatly denied.
She was not to leave Deri.
To make matters worse, the scent of danger and evil had become stronger,
permeating the trees in a manner that unsettled all of the Quicken-tree.
Moira had explained that 'twas not so much the smell of imminent danger they
sensed as that of impending doom. The trees warned of forces set in motion
that must be stopped to avert disaster.
A disaster of her making, Llynya thought, miserable with guilt and fear. She
glanced up to find Madron staring at her or mayhaps glaring better described
the witch's fierce gaze and quickly looked away.
Nothing good could be up and about if Madron had hied herself to Deri at dawn. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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