A Heart in Sun and Shadow (Cymru That Was Book 1) (2 page)

Emyr turned back toward where they’d left the spears with a shake of his head. Idrys, however, ignored the spears and started climbing up the steep slope after the hart. The stag had left a trail of bright blood that would be simple to follow.

“Idrys!” Emyr called, realizing his brother was moving swiftly away. The stag had almost reached the crown of the hill.

“He’s hurt, he’s slow. Come on brother.” Idrys paused atop a boulder and waved to his twin.

“We’ll find some other way up. That hill looks unstable.” Emyr slung his bow over his shoulder and walked with both spears to stand at the edge of the rocky slope.

“Coward,” Idrys said, laughing, “You’d leave our prize for the wolves for fear of a few rocks?”

Emyr’s dark brow knit in anger and he opened his mouth to make a rude reply. His eyes shifted past Idrys as a low rumble caught his attention. The stag had loosened stones with its mad rush up the hillside and now a large boulder was free and gathering momentum. The whole hill began to tremble.

“Idrys!” he cried in warning. His twin felt the tremors of the slide and looked behind.

“Emyr, run,” Idrys yelled as he leapt down from his boulder and skidded over the rocks down the hillside. He lost his balance as the soft soil beneath him gave way and tumbled down at the head of a wave of grit and stone. Idrys kept rolling, hearing his bow snap beneath him with a wince. Strong hands caught him and pulled him to his feet. There was no time for thanks. The twins ran across the scrub meadow and did not pause until they’d crested another hill.

Turning to look behind, Idrys whistled softly. He grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him to a stop. The meadow below them was nearly gone, covered now in a blanket of dust and stones. Somewhere beneath the haze and rock was their deer. Idrys sighed.

“Gwydyon’s balls, Idrys,” Emyr said, leaning over to catch his breath in the dusty air. “You can’t seriously be sad over the loss of the stag. You nearly died.”

Idrys, also still breathing hard, grinned at his brother. “But it was a magnificent beast, eh? We almost had him.” He sighed again, more for dramatic effect than real sorrow.

“Sorry father, I didn’t mean to get my brother killed. But what do you know? We were after such a
magnificent
beast!” Emyr straightened. He wondered if he looked near as terrible as his twin.

Idrys’s tunic was torn on the right shoulder revealing his tanned skin beneath. His trousers had fared a bit better, though only a strip of leather remained hanging forlornly off his belt where once his quiver had been. His bow hung from his shoulder, its limbs snapped just above the riser. Idrys had a small cut on his chin just below his generous and grinning mouth. A deep purple bruise was forming above his right eye along the ridge of his brow.

“Admiring how I’m still prettier than you, brother?” Idrys’s clear brown eyes flashed with amusement as Emyr shrugged.

“You’re explaining the loss of the spears and all when we get home.” Emyr made a face at his brother. Idrys shrugged and started moving toward the dark line of the forest.

The twins hadn’t brought much with them since it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to go out hunting the morning before. When it looked as though they might have a race over open ground for the stag, they’d tied their light packs up in a spreading oak at the forest’s edge.

Emyr, being the less bruised of the two, nimbly climbed up into the branches and cut free their gear. He climbed down and sat with his brother at the base of the tree.

Idrys grabbed the water skin and drank deep before passing it to his brother. He then began to gingerly prod his bruises and take stock.

Emyr leaned against the tree and said nothing as he watched his brother. The adrenaline had worn off and he was hungry and tired. Idrys cheered him, however, by making exaggerated faces of pain and consternation over his condition.

“Well,” Idrys said after a few minutes of prodding, “nothing’s broken save my bow.” He pulled off his boots and dumped a fair amount of gravel from them with a sigh.

“You’re bloody lucky.” Emyr shook his head and winced as a small cloud of dust and a few tiny stones came free from his hair.
I must be a sight as well, though without the bruises. He’s going to complain the whole way home and then play up that cut on his chin as him heroically saving me by the end, I imagine
. Emyr grinned despite himself.

“I recall a stream not far. Let’s go wash up and maybe get a fire going. There’s daylight enough to fish since, thankfully, you didn’t manage to lose our hooks in that tumble.” Emyr rose and shouldered his pack.

They found the stream and walked along it until they came to a little heugh. The stream pooled in the overhung glen and the wide roots of the trees would make a good camping place. With the unspoken communication of long habit, Idrys dropped his pack and began to gather deadwood from the forest floor around them as Emyr dug into the loam near a stump for worms.

Night fell and the stars emerged to wink between the branches. The boys had a little fire going and the picked-clean bones of their dinner were neatly piled on a flat stone near the blaze. The boys curled into their cloaks back to back with heads resting on their leather packs.

“Em,” Idrys said softly.

“Eh?” Emyr answered him sleepily.

“Thank you. For pulling me up and all.”

It was as close to an apology as Idrys would come. In the dark Emyr smiled.

Idrys woke as the sun pierced the canopy. He felt every bruise and scrape from the day before. With a groan he stood carefully and prodded the fire with a booted foot. It had died in the night. Cold breakfast it would be. Emyr woke when his brother moved and sat up.

“How’re the mighty hunter’s wounds this morning?” He smiled as he opened his pack and pulled out the leather-wrapped bundle of dried venison. Taking a long hard strip, he sawed off one end with his small knife and popped the meat into his mouth to soften.

“Give over, Em.” Idrys sat back down on his cloak beside his brother. “I feel like Govannon tried to reforge me overnight.” He took the strip of meat out of Emyr’s lap and cut himself a piece.

“Or perhaps like someone rolled you down a mountain?” Emyr was smug and not the least bit sore.

“I said leave off. Or I’ll give you a split chin to match mine.”

“I’d never wish to be so pretty as you,” Emyr said around his mouthful of meat, unperturbed.

“Is it really that bad?” Idrys tried to keep the vain whine from his voice without much success. Both twins were acclaimed for their height, their dark curling hair, and their strong and handsome faces. They’d just reached the age where the opinions of woman had begun to matter and they enjoyed the blushing attention.

Emyr glanced at his brother. It was really that bad.

The cut on his chin had scabbed in the night and now marred the clean line of his jaw. The purple bruise over his right eye had expanded its territory as well, reaching down to his cheek and up into his hairline.

Idrys had rinsed in the stream the night before, so at least his hair was clean in its braids. Pulled back from his face, however, his hair did nothing to hide the swelling of his forehead or the dark bruising. Another scrape that Emyr hadn’t noticed the night before graced his twin’s neck below the ear in long oozing weal to the shoulder.

Likely from his bow
, Emyr thought. They hadn’t brought a change of clothing, meaning only to be gone a night at most and Idrys still wore his dusty tunic, the soft, deep brown weave streaked with dust. The threads were beginning to unravel around the torn shoulder.

“You should mend that. I think I’ve a needle,” Emyr said, trying to cover how long he’d been silent.

Idrys sighed as Emyr dug through his pack for the little stitching kit. He hated sewing, though he’d learned at his mother’s knee just like his brother. He knew better than to complain of “women’s work” around his fierce and stubborn mother.
She’s going to laugh when she sees my stitching and probably not let me be until I admit she was right to make us learn
.

* * *

It was high afternoon again when Idrys spotted the snow-white buck. This deer was smaller by at least half than their prize of the night before with only two points on his antlers.

Idrys motioned silently to his brother and crouched at the edge of the clearing. The buck was pulling the fresh growth from the low brush here and apparently oblivious to the presence of the twins.

“Oh no,” Emyr whispered. “We’ve got only one bow between us, Idrys. We’re going home.”

“Look at his coloring. He’s small, but with a coat like that! We’ll be better received if we bring such a gem.” Idrys’s eyes filled with stubborn fire as he glanced at his brother.

“I can’t believe I’m even listening to you.” Emyr carefully strung his bow even as he shook his head.

“You won’t regret it,” Idrys promised.

“If we had a deer for every time I’ve heard that, we could feed the entire cantref,” Emyr muttered. His reluctance faded as the joy of the hunt took over. He crept closer and took aim.

Something warned the deer. It raised its delicate head and bounded away into the trees. Drawing his knife, Idrys gave chase.

Cursing, Emyr followed after his twin. They dashed through the woods after the white shadow of the hart. Idrys curved off to the right, aiming to cut the deer off from that side. Emyr took the left, running headlong through the trees. They leapt a small rushing brook and dashed between the leaning boles of the mighty oak and slender popular and ash.

The deer stopped abruptly and stood quietly shaking in a clearing near a second, wider brook. The boys slowed and circled the edge, Emyr taking aim. Just when he would have loosed the arrow, the buck sprang away again, disappearing into the underbrush near the stream.

The boys dashed after it again. They broke through the underbrush and saw no sign of their quarry. Idrys checked along the banks for hoofprints or a sign the buck had crossed. There was nothing.

“Deer don’t just vanish,” he muttered after some minutes of frustrated searching.

“That one did. Did you see his hocks? Red as blood they were.” Emyr shivered despite the warm summer light.

“Fairy stories again? I’ve never seen one of the fair folk, have you?” Idrys said and made a face.

“Stories eh? Then where did your deer go?” Emyr’s mouth set in its own stubborn line, his expression mirroring his brother’s.

Idrys balled up his left fist and advanced toward his brother in mocking threat. He paused suddenly and looked around. Emyr was about to ask what it was when he too heard the sound.

Singing. It was a woman’s voice, lovely and pure. They couldn’t quite catch the words but the tune was both merry and haunting as it rang through the wood. The notes came from upstream and Idrys moved toward them.

For once Emyr didn’t argue with him and followed his brother wordlessly. They moved quietly through the forest along the stream until they came to where it pooled in a deep stone basin. A rushing waterfall spilled over the stones into the lovely glade, its bubbling joy a sweet counterpoint to the haunting beauty of the song. The boys crouched low in the brush, frozen by what they saw.

A woman bathed in the water, naked to her waist. Her hair was red as fresh blood and her skin even in sunlight glowed as pale as white stone. Her face had high cheekbones and full red lips. Her eyes were silvered, the pupils dark pools within swirling depths. Her breasts were full with high pale nipples peeking out between the long silken strands of red hair.

Transfixed, the twins stared their full. Here was one of the fair folk, they were sure. She could not be anything but Other. Their mother was widely considered a fine beauty, but next to this woman, Hafwyn’s tanned skin and dark features would be as impressive as a candle lit in daylight.

The Lady ceased her singing and the clouds cleared from the mind of the two boys. Emyr tugged his brother’s sleeve and motioned with his head that they should leave. Idrys shook his own head and refused to look away from the lovely creature.

“You don’t have to hide, children. Come, speak with me a while.” The Lady’s voice rang out in a welcoming caress.

Idrys stood immediately, giving Emyr no choice but to follow suit.

“We greet you, Lady, though we did not mean to disturb you,” Emyr said formally, bowing.

Idrys bowed alongside his brother, grateful that at least one of them was capable of polite speech in this moment.

“I am not disturbed, as yet, young prince.” She walked from the pool toward them.

“We are no princes, Lady,” Emyr responded, flushing as the water grew shallow and her body was revealed. Every inch was as pale as the rest, save a nest of dark red curls between her slender thighs.

“Are you not the sons of Brychan, Chief of Llynwg? Perhaps I was mistaken and rude boys have instead come upon me?” Her words held a bite though her smile did not as she tilted her head to one side.

“We are, I mean, there is no mistake. I am Idrys, my brother is Emyr, Lady.” Idrys found his tongue.

“Come then, sit with me a while and comb my hair.” She turned and walked along to the bank to where a pale blue coat and matching shift lay warming across the rocks. She dressed, wringing the water from the ends of her waist-length locks. Then she picked up a carved bone comb and held it out to the boys.

“As it please you Lady, we meant no harm. We were hunting deer and came upon you by accident,” Emyr said as they both walked to her.

The Fair Folk could be dangerous. Tales ran of them abducting youths to attend them for centuries in their halls or of the Folk playing cruel tricks on foolish mortals. There were tales also, however, of fairy maids who would take a mortal lover for a time. Emyr nervously remembered the former tales; Idrys excitedly recalled the latter.

“My name is Seren, princes. Attend me and we shall speak of how you may repay your rudeness. I believe it was only an accident, do not fear.” Her smile was open and so bright it hurt to think of anything else.