She rose to kneel by his side, her fingers pulling at the leather straps of his breastplate. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.
‘Get out of this metal,’ she ordered. ‘Put it aside. Then we will walk for a while in the mountains and you will feel the air on your skin.’ He helped her, laid the armour beside the fire and stood. She moved to him and ran her hands along his arms.
‘I am tired of waiting for you,’ she said. ‘And don’t tell me you are not ready; I am sick of it. You are a man — so stop running from the past and fearing the future. All we have is the Now. All we will ever have is the Now.’
‘Does it not frighten you that I must die soon?’
‘Yes, it terrifies me,’ she told him. ‘But it will be the worse for me if you should be gone having never loved me.’
His arms circled her. ‘I love you,’ he said simply. ‘You are never far from my thoughts.’
She drew him down beside the fire and kissed him, but he groaned and weakly pulled away.
‘Forget the stars, Llaw,’ she whispered. ‘Forget the stars.’
Later, as they lay closely together, it seemed to Llaw that a burden had been taken from him. He could not recall the moment when it had passed, nor even what it was that had weighed him down. He could smell the newly growing grass and feel the wind of spring upon his face. He could hear the birds in the trees above and sense the joy of growth in the forest. The world of kings and knights and peasants seemed a fragile, insubstantial matter as Arian snuggled against him, her right leg curled over his thigh. Rising on his elbow, he looked down at her. She was sleeping. He touched her skin and kissed her hair and her eyes opened.
‘I was dreaming,’ she said.
‘Are you happy still?’
‘You fool,’ she answered. She rose swiftly and ran to the stream and he followed her, watching her bathe. ‘Come in,’ she called.
‘It looks cold.’
‘The great Llaw Gyffes fears a little cold water? Come in.’
He waded in alongside her and sat down. ‘Gods of Heaven!’ he exclaimed. She laughed and splashed his chest and face; he grabbed her and they rolled under the water.
‘I surrender,’ she shouted as they surfaced. ‘Truly.’
He said nothing and pulled her in to his embrace. ‘You should have come to me long ago,’ he whispered.
‘I did, Llaw, but you were not ready. Will you regret this day?’
‘Never.’
‘Good. Now get dressed and go back to your Knights — all of them.’
His face darkened. ‘I cannot face the man. I think if I did, I would kill him.’
‘You are too strong for that. Trust me, Llaw. In this, I think I know you better.’
He stood and shivered. Arian grasped his arm and hauled herself upright. Sensing his changing mood, she remained silent, following him back to the fire. He dressed swiftly and started to walk back to his horse which was tethered to the root of a nearby beech. But he stopped and looked back; then suddenly he grinned. ‘Will you ride with me, my lady?’
She pulled on her tunic and trews, gathered her boots and knife and ran to him.
He left her in the village and rode back for the cave. The other Knights were sitting with Elodan and Lamfhada. Llaw dismounted and tethered his horse. No one spoke as he joined the circle and looked across at the Duke of Mactha.
‘I am Llaw Gyffes,’ he said, extending his hand.
‘I am Roem. I am pleased to meet you,’ responded the other, taking his hand and gripping it firmly.
‘Now the new Order is complete,’ said Lamfhada, ‘and it is time to prepare for the Day of Blood. Nuada is carrying our banner to all the settlements of the forest. Morrigan and Groundsel are seeking allies close to Pertia Port. The King’s army is almost ready to move. They will be at our southern borders within ten days; we must be ready to oppose them.’
‘How many men do we have?’ Roem asked.
‘Close to two hundred now, but the numbers are swelling daily. Nuada’s prowess has rarely been put to better use.’
‘The King has ten thousand men,’ said Roem. ‘Two thousand lancers, six thousand foot-soldiers, fifteen hundred archers, and five hundred scouts, used to the ways of the forest. You cannot hold them with two hundred, nor a thousand.’
Elodan raised his hand. ‘It is not important that we have a large army, only that the King thinks we have. Now Lamfhada says he has placed a spell over the forest and the Seers of the King cannot breach it. That being the case, all the King has to go on is that his five hundred lancers have been wiped out. I do not think he will immediately venture into the forest in force. He will send in his scouts and then advance slowly. We must eliminate those scouts.’
‘That sounds plausible,’ said Errin, ‘but do we fight a holding action from now until the King dies of old age? Somewhere there must be a conclusive encounter.’
‘Indeed there must, and we must recognize the opportunity when it arises,’ answered Elodan. ‘But until then, as the weaker side, we must hit and run — strike them where we can — make them think they are facing a force ten… twenty times greater than we are. And all the time we will be growing.’
Llaw spoke. ‘There is something else to consider: supplies. We have the forest and the deer, and sheep are plentiful. The King has ten thousand men and they will need to be supplied from the south. We must have a raiding force behind their lines. Empty bellies make for discontent.’
‘I will lead that force,’ said Roem. ‘It is my Duchy and I know all the roads. Give me fifty men; we will live off the land and force them to send back troops.’
‘You will be alone,’ Lamfhada pointed out. ‘We cannot support you.’
‘Do not fear for me, Armourer. I am not ready to die yet.’
‘Very well,’ agreed Elodan. ‘Select your fifty men and train them; you have ten days.’
‘What of the rest of us?’ asked Manannan.
‘Your day is coming,’ said Lamfhada, looking away.
Morrigan sat under the stars, her memories vivid and painful. Her love for Samildanach seemed from another age, when the world was young and innocence a joy. Her six years in the City of the Vyre had drenched that innocence in blood and lust and depravity. She could no longer recall the numbers of men and women who had shared her bed, nor see all the faces. All she could remember clearly was the taste of the Ambria, and the surging strength it brought to her limbs. She had told Manannan that Samildanach had tired of her, but it was not strictly true. Faced with the myriad pleasures of the Vyre they had drifted apart — seeking new sensations, more pleasure and pain.
Now Manannan claimed to love her. But he did not know… he loved the woman who once had been. She shivered as the night wind rolled down from the snow-covered peaks.
The general had died swiftly, his body shrivelling as his life filled her. He had not even known he was dying. She had left the empty hide-covered sack of bones where they fell. How soon would she need to feed again? A day? Two days?
She could hear Groundsel snoring by the fire. Detestable little man! You will be next, she promised herself. But then what? Manannan? Llaw Gyffes? Or merely another innocent stranger, like the man with the injured knee?
Was life so enchanting that she could not bear to leave it?
She knew the answer. Of course it was. To see and hear, to breathe and feel — how could anyone bear to die?
‘Can’t you sleep?’ asked Groundsel, sitting up and running his fingers across his scalp. ‘Damned lice,’ he said. ‘Nothing shifts them.’