Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,81

follow destiny’s path with only the pits of lost eyes to guide you!’

Branwen let out a cry as the curved fingers came raking down towards her face, the nails stretching for her eyes.

‘One eye you took from Earl Herewulf’s face,’ raved the gravelled voice from Blodwedd’s mouth. ‘One eye from my lord’s most trusted servant! As forfeit, you shall pay with both of yours!’

As Branwen looked in horror into the owl-girl’s face, she knew the truth: Ragnar had taken her friend body and spirit – there was no more Blodwedd. There was only Ragnar – a savage and murderous thing housed in Blodwedd’s body, a hellish beast that stared down at her with black, dead, ferocious eyes.

‘Blodwedd!’ A shape loomed in the corner of Branwen’s eye. It was Rhodri, stumbling forward, his arms out towards the demon that had once been his beloved friend. ‘For the love I bear you, Blodwedd, stop!’

For a moment, the furious strength of Blodwedd’s arms lessened a fraction. She turned her head, staring at Rhodri, as though some tiny shred of the person she had been had ignited a spark of memory in her mind.

Now Branwen did not hesitate. She released Blodwedd’s left wrist and flung her arm out. Her fingers caught the hilt of her sword and closed about it. Screwing her eyes shut to avoid seeing the thing she was about to do, she angled the blade upwards and thrust deep.

Blodwedd let out a wild screech as the sword drove through her body.

‘No!’ screamed Rhodri. ‘No!’

The owl-girl’s dying body convulsed on top of Branwen, the back arching, the neck stretching, the mouth gaping.

Blodwedd fell writhing to one side, ripping the sword from Branwen’s hands, clutching at it as though trying to pull it out from between her ribs.

Overwrought with horror, her eyes flooded with tears, Branwen crawled to where Blodwedd lay twitching on the ground. With a final burst of strength, the owl-girl jerked the sword out of her body and flung it to one side, her breath coming rapidly, blood blossoming on her clothes.

Rhodri dropped to his knees at Blodwedd’s side, shouting his futile denials as he bent over her, one hand pressing against her bloody wound, the other cradling the side of her face.

Branwen crouched by Blodwedd’s head, weeping, distraught, wrung with guilt and grief.

The owl-girl’s eyes opened as she turned her head to gaze for a moment into Branwen’s face. Branwen bit back a sob when she saw that her friend’s eyes were golden once more.

‘Do not weep,’ Blodwedd whispered, blood tricking down the side of her face and into her hair. ‘You had to do this … I would have … killed you all …’

Branwen tried to speak, but her voice would not come.

Blodwedd’s eyes began to glaze over. ‘I am free now. Soon I shall be at Govannon’s side – soaring the great wide sky-fields once more. Blodwedd of the Far-Seeing Eye.’ She turned her head one final time to look into Rhodri’s face. ‘I have … a gift … for you … Rhodri …’ Now her voice had become very faint and Branwen could hardly hear her words. ‘Come … closer … dearest … friend …’

Rhodri leaned close over her, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed. She lifted her hands and held his head between them, bringing his face down to hers and softly kissing his eyes. ‘Forgive me … sweet Rhodri,’ she breathed. ‘This is … not … an … easy burden … to bear …’

Her fingers loosened, her arms fell limp.

The light faded from her golden eyes.

Blodwedd the owl-girl lay dead upon the hill.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Rhodri let out a scream of utter agony, his body jerking upwards, his hands coming up to his face. Branwen stared up at him in alarm as he knelt there, swaying, shuddering, grinding his hands into his eyes as though fighting intolerable pain.

She ached to comfort him – but how could she do that – killer as she was of her friend’s great love? She had to suffer his agonies as well as her own. She deserved no better!

Through her tears, Branwen was aware of figures moving forward across the hill. Iwan was the first to reach Rhodri, stooping, taking the howling boy’s broad shoulders between his hands as though to halt the rolling of his agonized body.

Rhodri’s screams ended abruptly and he slumped sideways, almost dragging Iwan down with him as he crumpled to the ground.

Strong hands lifted Branwen to her feet. ‘Are you hurt?’ It was Dera’s voice. “Branwen?