He poured thick gruel into a variety of battered old dishes and beakers and handed them around. With no spoons to eat with, they waited until the gruel had cooled before scooping it into their mouths with their fingers. It tasted of nothing much and sat like a heavy stone in Dodinal’s belly, but would keep hunger away for some time.
“Keep an eye out for goats,” their host told them as they ate. “Tough little bastards, not afraid of anything. They’ll trample and eat adders, or so it’s said. But they make good eating.”
Finally the time came for them to be on their way. They emptied their packs and sorted through their contents, taking only what they thought they would need, putting it into a single pack to lighten their load. They left their cloaks behind for the same reason.
They shook Hywel’s hand one by one, each man vowing they would be back for him. The tracker somehow conjured a smile and told them he looked forward to that day, but it was plain to see he was desperate to go with them. Dodinal was the last to leave; he looked back just before he walked outside and saw the hunter slump to the ground, head down, looking lost and alone and defeated. For a moment he almost relented, but this was not the time to allow his heart to rule his head. He raised one hand in a half-hearted salute and set off after the others.
The old man waited for them, nodding towards the southern end of the valley. Now the sun had risen, banishing the shadows around them, Dodinal could see many of the trees had been felled, their stumps like broken teeth in the mouth of the coomb; fuel for the fires that kept the ghosts at bay.
“I’ll take you as far as the lake and show you where you need to go from there. After that, you’re on your own.” The old man seemed almost pathetically eager to please, perhaps desperate to make amends in any way he could for what he and his people had done.
He led the way up the steep slope, setting a punishing pace that belied his advanced years and gaunt body. Gerwyn stayed close behind him, followed by Madoc and Gwythyr, all three of them gasping as they struggled to keep up. Dodinal saw no point in hurrying; they might as well conserve their strength. Emlyn must have felt the same way, for he walked at a steady gait alongside him. “Do you think he will be all right?” he suddenly asked.
Dodinal did not need to ask who. “He’ll be fine.”
“I wish I could be so sure.” Emlyn tapped the side of his head. “That old man hasn’t quite got a quiver full of arrows.”
“Maybe not. He’s harmless enough, though. He said he would look after Hywel, and I have no reason to doubt him. Mark my words, by the time we get back, Hywel will be too fat to do anything but waddle and we’ll be delirious with hunger.”
“You reckon we’ll be back, then?”
“We’ll be back,” Dodinal assured him.
By the time they had struggled out of the valley, they were gasping for breath and sweating like pack horses. Dodinal stared around tensely. The lake was longer than it was wide, the forest crowding its left bank. Surrounding it was a solid wall of mountains, their bare steep flanks reflected in the water, so that it appeared there was an identical range of hills beneath the surface. At the far end of the lake was a single mighty peak, wide enough at its base to fill the landscape, narrowing as it rose impossibly high above them. Beyond it were more tall peaks, distance rendering them featureless.
“The valley lies beyond that mountain,” the old man said.
“God help us,” someone whispered.
The old man spat on the ground. “God won’t. I will. I know what you’re thinking. Might as well give up and go back.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Madoc growled.
“It looks bad, I’ll grant you that. But there’s always a way.”
Emlyn sighed with frustration. “Then take us there.”
The old man shook his head. “I gave you my word I would bring you here and I have; but no further. Too many memories. This is the first time I have stepped foot here since I heard my sister was with my father’s child. I do not intend to stay a moment longer than I have to. Dodinal, you’re the clever one. Step closer. I will tell you the way. Then I will leave you to find the valley without me.”
They gathered around him, watching as he raised his spear to point to the mountain’s left flank. “Continue to the head of the valley. You’ll see an old track leading up. It’s steep, but you’ll manage. Once you get to the top you’ll arrive at a narrow plateau. From there the going gets harder.”
Dodinal listened while the old man continued to talk of cliffs and gullies, but did not really take it in. The words were meaningless. Gerwyn nodded as the old man spoke, hopefully to indicate his understanding rather than out of misguided sense of courtesy.
“Eventually you will have to cross a narrow ridge, between steep cliffs, high above the ground. Even once you have crossed it and are within reach of the summit, you will need to be wary. The going will not be easy underfoot and there are often rock falls. Big ones. I’ve heard them from the village.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Madoc said sourly.
The old man ignored him. “It’s easy going once you get to the top. The descent into the valley is nowhere near as challenging.”
“You’ve been there?” Dodinal asked.
“Me? Don’t you listen? I told you, I haven’t been even this far up since what happened to my sister. But the men who took Crow and Arwel and the young ones there, they talked about it for months. You’d swear they’d been on some brave quest rather than off to dump an old woman, a simpleton and a bunch of squawking infants in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves.”
“You sound as if you almost regret it,” Dodinal observed.
“I regret what we did that night, nothing else. We did a great wrong and we tried to find a way to atone. We tried and we failed.” He hawked and spat, then turned away. “You’d best be off. If you hurry, you should reach the valley this afternoon. A word of advice. Be well away from there by sunset, with or without the children you seek. Now go, and travel safely.”
He turned and set off down the hill towards what remained of his village, raising an arm in farewell as he disappeared from view.
“Well, then,” Gerwyn said after a moment. “You heard him. We need to be there and on our way back by sunset. Best to get moving.”
He shrugged the pack until it hung comfortably from his shoulders and then took off towards the mountain without waiting for a response. The others hesitated, eyebrows raised. Dodinal gave them the nod and they set after him, with Dodinal following a short distance behind.
He could hear the murmur of their voices as they walked, but he was in no mood for idle talk, not when they were heading towards an uncertain fate. For all he knew they would be dead by nightfall. Now he almost regretted his decision to travel in their company. He had grown to like them, to see them as friends, even the near-silent Gwythyr. While death held no fear for him, he would prefer to die alone than take his companions with him.
The path the old man had indicated took them through the forest along the lake’s western bank. The men became silent as they passed beneath the green-budded branches, perhaps remembering what had happened here that day all those years ago. Tramping along a woodland path, Dodinal found himself looking out for a tall cluster of ferns, but saw none. It had happened a long time ago. The boy had grown into a half-mad old man and the sister was far from here, perhaps dead. Only the spectre of unwanted memories remained. Dodinal realised none of them had thought to ask the old man his name.
The forest felt suddenly oppressive and gloomy, bright wildflowers doing nothing to dispel a sense of foreboding that made his skin prickle. Again he had to remind himself why he was here. If it had not been for his feelings for Rhiannon and the boy, he would have gladly given up and gone home.