Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,33

his head. ‘She has a good chance to be well, I think. Pendefig’s charms were wonderfully potent.’ He lifted a hand, waggling the fingers. ‘I can feel the power tingling in the tips of my fingers when I speak them. The hair stands up on the back of my neck. It’s good medicine, Branwen.’

‘Then what’s wrong?’

Rhodri’s brow creased. ‘Blodwedd had a bad dream,’ he said. ‘She woke up wailing and crying. I’ve never seen her so upset. It was like trying to comfort a wounded animal.’

‘She is still an owl, Rhodri,’ Branwen reminded him gently.

‘I have never forgotten that,’ said Rhodri.

‘You love her, though, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘And she you?’

‘In her way, I think,’ he said, looking into her eyes. ‘It’s not a love such as grows and flourishes between a man and a woman, but in so far as an owl can love, yes, I believe she loves me.’

When she had first noticed the affection growing between Rhodri and Blodwedd, Branwen had found it perverse and a little disgusting. But she had come to accept it over the months, and now the sight of them together made her glad. It had taken Blodwedd a while to get used to sleeping as a human sleeps – lying down, curled up under furs with her head on a pillow. But now she could not sleep at all unless Rhodri was with her, his arm protectively across her body, his warmth making up for the feathers that she missed so much. But still a question burned on Branwen’s lips. An intimate question she had never felt able to ask. For the hundredth time she bit it back unspoken. ‘Where is she now?’ she asked instead.

‘I don’t know,’ said Rhodri. ‘She ran out without even a cloak to her back. I could not leave Linette.’ His eyes pleaded. ‘Will you find her for me – try to learn from her what was in the dream that frightened her so much?’

Branwen straightened up. ‘I will.’ She picked up Blodwedd’s cloak and stepped out into the icy dawn. ‘And I’ll bring her back if I can.’

She found Blodwedd on the northern ramparts, squatting in the crusted snow, her arms wrapped around herself, her breath gusting. She shivered, staring into the mist.

Branwen crouched at her side, throwing the cloak over her. Blodwedd’s head turned. There were tears frozen on her cheeks and desolation in her huge amber eyes.

‘Come back into the warm,’ said Branwen, tightening the cloak around the thin owl-girl, chaffing her arms with her hands.

‘I…am…a…coward…’ The voice seemed to issue from a broken and ice-bound heart. ‘… such … a . . coward…’

‘That’s not true. Why do you say that?’

Blodwedd shook her head. ‘I came here to do something that I find I cannot do,’ she gasped. She gazed into Branwen’s face with haunted, harrowed eyes. ‘Did you dream the dream?’

‘I dreamed of a bear that turned into a goraig,’ said Branwen.

‘ “Two things of great import”,’ breathed Blodwedd. So! She had dreamed Branwen’s dream. But it had affected her far worse than it had Branwen. A thin, hooked hand darted from under Blodwedd’s cloak and caught Branwen’s wrist. ‘When you encounter the creature with the eyes like two black moons you must strike swift and hard, do you understand me?’ she hissed. ‘You must kill it. Let nothing stop you.’

‘Do you know what this creature is?’

Blodwedd shuddered. ‘I know,’ she said heavily, her voice quivering.

‘Is it human or otherwise?’

‘It has not one shred of humanity in it,’ said Blodwedd. ‘It is a foul and corrupt demon. It will betray you to your death, Branwen. Kill it before it kills you.’ Blodwedd’s curved nails dug into Branwen’s flesh, making her wince. ‘When you see the eyes like two black moons, do not hesitate – not for love, nor honour, nor compassion nor friendship.’

‘What does it look like?’ asked Branwen, frightened to the very soul by Blodwedd’s dread. ‘Apart from the eyes, I mean.’

‘You will know it when you see it,’ said Blodwedd.

‘Can’t you tell me more?’

Blodwedd shook her head.

Branwen gave her a bleak smile. ‘Then I’ll do as you say – I’ll watch for the black moon eyes, and the moment I see them, I’ll cut the demon’s heart out.’ She thumped again at Blodwedd’s narrow shoulders, trying to beat some warmth into her fragile frame. ‘There. All’s well. I have been warned. No Saxon fiend will get the better of me, Blodwedd. Now! Will you return willingly to the hut, or must I carry