Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,82

Are you injured?’

‘No.’ The word was like a knife in her throat.

‘There was nothing else you could have done,’ said Banon, holding a bloody rag to her wounded shoulder. ‘Ragnar had taken her over – she would have killed us all.’

Kill it before it can kill you.

Blodwedd’s own words.

‘Why did they not protect her?’ shouted Branwen. She turned, facing west, screaming her anger into the grey sky. ‘Why did you not protect her? She was your creature! Did her life mean nothing to you? Are you so cruel?’

But the clouded sky gave her no answer.

It was a vision, or a dream, or a… visitation. Branwen stood on air. She was far above the hill, gazing down. Between her floating feet, she saw herself, seated on the blackened ground at Blodwedd’s side, her head hanging, her sword flung aside. She saw Rhodri lying close by, a cloak covering him to the chin while Banon and Iwan lifted his head and used a wetted rag to bathe his forehead. But Rhodri’s eyes were closed and from such a distance, Branwen could not even be sure that he was breathing. Three horses were tethered on the hill – Aberfa and Dera were busy rounding up the others that had fled when Ragnar had come.

Fain was there also, on the ground, preening his ruffled and disordered feathers, shivering but otherwise unhurt after his encounter with the evil raven. That at least was a blessing.

Branwen looked up, her mind strangely empty, wondering how much time had elapsed since she had slaughtered her friend.

‘You had no choice, you know that.’

Branwen turned her head and saw that Linette stood at her side on the empty air. The girl was dressed all in white, and there was a light radiating from her face that made it almost impossible for Branwen to look directly at her. Brighter than the noonday sun, Linette’s face had become.

‘I’m cursed,’ Branwen said. ‘All who come near me perish.’

‘When war stalks the land, many die, Branwen,’ said Linette mildly. ‘Yet you are right – you are cursed. You bear the curse of leadership.’

‘No. I’ll not lead any more. Let them choose another. Let Dera or Iwan guide them now. I’m done with it. I’ll not lift a sword in anger again. I shall take the path into the forest and live out my days in solitude. That way no more lives will be lost on my account.’

‘You can’t do that and you won’t,’ came Linette’s gentle voice. ‘You have a long and weary road ahead of you, Branwen. The only way you could make it worse is if you seek to avoid it. Do you not know that by now?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I think you do.’ Linette sighed. ‘Besides, you cannot leave poor Rhodri to his fate.’

Branwen frowned. ‘What of Rhodri? What do you mean?’

‘Blodwedd has given him a gift that he will find it hard to bear alone.’

‘What gift?’

‘The gift of the awakening blood. It will rise in him like a fever and when it boils behind his eyes he will not know himself. But he will speak truths to you, and you would be wise to listen. Iwan has long called him Druid, in jest – but it is jest no longer.’

‘Must I return then?’ Branwen asked. ‘Is there to be no respite?’

‘You know the answer to that already.’

Branwen gazed down at Blodwedd’s sad, slender corpse. ‘Why did they not save her?’ she asked, her tears falling, glimmering in the sunlight.

‘Because they could not,’ Linette sighed. ‘Do you think they are not bereft, Branwen? Do you think you are the only one that grieves?’ Her hand touched Branwen lightly on the shoulder. ‘Follow the path, my friend, my leader, my captain. Go south and do great deeds.’

‘My path lies northwards,’ said Branwen, narrowing her eyes as the light from Linette’s face grew brighter and brighter.

‘No,’ said the echoing voice. ‘It does not.’

‘And when all my tasks are done, shall I then be given time to grieve over Blodwedd’s death?’ Branwen called as the light engulfed her. ‘Shall I ever know peace, Linette? Ever?’

But there came no answer.

Branwen was aware of shapes moving in front of her in the gaping whiteness, and of hollow voices speaking in the void.

‘Does she even know we are here?’

‘How long must we wait? The day is all but ended, and still she sits like a stone upon the hill and responds to nothing!’

‘It’s the grief, for pity’s sake. Can you not see that?’ Iwan’s voice, Branwen realized. ‘She