Night Birds' Reign(157)

Angharad darted for her sword, grasped the hilt and swung it up in one, fluid motion. The blade caught one man in the stomach and he fell. She continued to turn, kicking out behind her with her right foot, catching another man in the jaw. As he flew back she reached forward with her blade and buried it in his guts.

Trystan leapt toward his weapons and grasped his spear. Rolling to the left he brought the point up and impaled an attacker. He raised his foot and pushed the dead man off the spear shaft to the ground. He whipped around and plunged the spear into another man’s back. The man arched in agony then swiftly died as Trystan yanked the spear out.

Achren, too, had leapt for her weapons but she found her way blocked. She lashed out with both feet, diving into the man who stood in her way. The air rushed out of the man’s lungs as he went down. Still rolling Achren grasped a rock and brought it against the side of the man’s head as he began to rise. His head cracked open and he collapsed. She grabbed a dagger from the dead man’s belt and turned, slashing up, burying it in the stomach of the next assailant.

Eight men were down in a matter of moments, and the last two were still running toward Gwydion and Rhiannon. The two Y Dawnus stood their ground, each taking a dagger from their boots.

But suddenly the two men halted, frozen in their tracks. The first man had Achren’s dagger and Trystan’s spear through his back. And the second man had Cai’s dagger and Angharad’s sword in his guts. They both fell, dead.

For a moment the clearing was silent as they started at the bodies of the ten dead men who littered the once peaceful glade.

That was when Gwydion heard a sound, a faint call, a cry of agony. For many years—indeed, until he died—he would hear that cry echo in his soul. For he knew that voice as he knew the beat of his own heart.

The bushes rustled and a figure staggered out into the clearing. He lifted his arms toward Gwydion, pain in every line of his bloodied, suffering body.

“Brother,” he rasped as Gwydion rushed forward and caught him, gently lowering him to the ground.

“Amatheon,” Gwydion gasped.

Rhiannon put her hands to the wound and closed her eyes. Gwydion watched her face hopefully as she concentrated. But she opened her eyes from the Life-Reading and shook her head. The damage the arrow had done to Amatheon was too great to turn death aside.

“I came back,” Amatheon whispered. “I didn’t want to be left out.”

Gwydion tried to speak but could not.

“I heard the arrow. I knew it was for you. I had to stop it.”

“Oh, Amatheon,” Gwydion rasped. “Oh, my brother.”

“I am glad you weren’t hurt,” Amatheon said. “But I am sorry to leave you. And to leave Angharad.” He looked up and caught sight of her flame-colored hair. She sank to the ground, taking his hand in hers.

“Cariad,” Amatheon whispered.

“Beloved,” Angharad replied softly. “Farewell.” Tears steamed down Angharad’s face, but her green eyes were steady as she gazed down at Amatheon.

Amatheon’s bright blue eyes, now growing dim, fastened on Rhiannon. “Take care of my brother,” he gasped. “Take care of him.”

“I—” Rhiannon began, but Amatheon did not wait for her answer. He turned back to Gwydion. “Good-bye, brother.”

“Good-bye,” Gwydion replied steadily. His eyes were dry, for this was a disaster beyond simple tears. This was a blow too strong for the conventional signs of grief.

He watched as Amatheon’s blue eyes dimmed, as his spirit fled his body and began the journey to the Summer Land. He watched as his brother left him irrevocably alone. He watched as a piece of his heart withered and died.

Now he knew why the shadows in his dreams always tore out his heart.

Now he knew, because now it was happening in the waking world.

His nightmare had come true.


CAI, TRYSTAN, AND Achren came forward to join Angharad beside Amatheon’s dead body. Gently Achren pulled Rhiannon to her feet, while Cai and Trystan helped Gwydion to stand.

Angharad leaned forward and gently kissed Amatheon’s cold forehead, smoothing back his dark hair. Achren reached out and gently closed Amatheon’s eyes. Without speaking, the four positioned themselves around Amatheon’s body. Achren and Angharad took his arms while Cai and Trystan grabbed his legs. They lifted him gently and carried him to the well and laid him down beside the dark water.

Angharad went to her pack and pulled out a square of white linen. She returned and knelt again by Amatheon’s body. She gently laid the cloth over Amatheon’s now lifeless, cold face.

Then the four of them rose and recited the death song of the Kymri: