Lamp Black, Wolf Grey (22 page)

“Merlin!” She hauled on the reins, causing Midnight to slide to a stop. She slipped from the saddle as Merlin ran to her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to explain why she had come, and she had to raise her voice to be heard above the howling of the wind and the heavy blowing of the fidgeting horse beside her. “You must leave! At once.”

“Megan? What has happened?”

“Lord Geraint has tired of waiting for your answer. He has ordered your murder.”

“When did you learn of this?”

“This night. I left the castle as soon as I could. There is no time to lose.” She placed a hand on his arm. “If we do not reach my father before Lord Geraint’s men get there they will kill him, too.”

Merlin covered her hand with his own for a brief moment. “Stay here,” he said. “I will fetch my horse.”

He returned in minutes, but the wait had seemed an eternity to Megan as she sat on her restless horse. She noticed he carried no possessions at all.

“We may never return,” she reminded him. “Is there nothing you wish to take with you?”

“All that I hold dear is riding beside me,” he said.

Megan opened her mouth to respond but Merlin held up his hand. The wolf let out a menacing growl.

“Riders!” he said.

Megan strained her ears against the noise of the night but could hear nothing. She peered into the gloom of the valley and at last could make out spluttering torches moving swiftly up the valley.

“They will catch us!” she cried.

“No, listen to me, Megan. Ride to your father, go with him away from this place. Lord Geraint’s men will follow me.”

“Then give me your courser. You will need Midnight’s speed.”

“No, better you keep him. Do not fear for me. I have my own ways of eluding my pursuers,” he told her, Then, seeing uncertainty on her face, he added, “We will be together again, my love. When you are clear of this place call me and I will come to you. Remember, call, and I will find you. Now go!” So saying he brought his staff down on Midnight’s rump, sending the animal leaping forward.

Megan snatched up the reins and rode on without time for so much as a backward glance. As she charged across the hillside she heard shouts from the soldiers and knew they had seen Merlin and gone after him. It took all her strength of will not to turn and help him, but she knew there was little she could do. Just as she knew her father needed her more. And just as she believed Merlin when he said they would be together again.

As she neared her father’s house clouds began to cover the moon, so that a deeper darkness surrounded her. Heavy rain fell now, quickly changing the firm ground to sticky mud. She felt Midnight adjust his stride the better to run across the slippery earth. At last she could see the light from the window of the longhouse. She had just started to descend the field to the side of the house when the front door was thrown open and her father flung out into the rain. As he struggled to his feet five strangers followed him out of the house. Megan gasped and heaved on one rein, swinging Midnight about in an effort to stop him plunging farther down the hill. As he spun around she saw horses tied to the wall. She recognized them as being from Lord Geraint’s stable, and as the men raised their guttering torches, she could see they were his soldiers. Before she had time to think what to do one of the men struck her father brutally with the hilt of his sword. As she watched a second soldier roughly forced him to kneel. Megan’s breath was taken from her body as she realized what was about to be done. She opened her mouth to scream, but at that moment her father looked up. Although the light was poor and the rain beating down, she looked into his face and knew he had seen her. She froze, rendered powerless by the horror of what was unfolding, knowing she had arrived too late to save her beloved father. He seemed to look directly at her, and she was certain she saw him mouth the word
ride
before his features fell into a gentle smile. Megan saw torchlight flash on a raised blade. She let out a silent scream of anguish as the sword was swung down, slicing noiselessly through her father’s neck.

Megan fought for breath, all the while struggling to restrain her wheeling mount. At that moment, one of the soldier’s horses became aware of his stable companion and let out a shrill whinny. The soldiers looked up. She had been seen. Even as she turned and raced away, she knew the men were coming after her. Despite Midnight’s speed, Megan would be caught if she tried to cross the open mountain. Her only hope of escape was to ride through the woods. She turned toward the trees. Feeling Midnight hesitate at the edge of the tangle of forest and undergrowth she used her heels and voice to send him on.

“Fly, Midnight, fly as if the wind itself were carrying you, my brave friend,” she said, tears for her lost father mingling with the rain that coursed down her face. The shock of what she had witnessed had left her breathless, weakened, and bewildered, but her instinct for survival told her to keep moving, at all costs. As Midnight plunged through the woodland she had to cling flat to his neck or risk being knocked from his back by low branches. Brambles and vines whipped at her as she rode, and mud flew up from the horse’s pounding hooves as he slithered through streams and ditches and soared over fallen trees. The sweat on the animal’s neck was making the reins slippery and difficult to hold. Specks of blood flecked the foam from his mouth as he bit down on his pelham. Megan could hear the shouts of the soldiers now and knew they, too, had entered the woods. She kicked at Midnight’s flanks, making the horse race on with even more reckless speed. They rounded a bend in the path and crossed a leaf-strewn glade past a sloping oak. Just as Megan thought they might lose their pursuers Midnight let out a bone-chilling scream, dropped his shoulder, and came crashing to the ground. Megan was sent hurtling through the air. She landed heavily, her head meeting an ivy-covered stump, so that she barely knew what was happening. With tremendous effort she dragged herself to her feet and staggered back toward the stricken horse.

“Midnight!” she called, then stopped when she saw what it was that had caused the horse to fall with such violence. The beautiful animal flailed on the ground, unable to right itself, a vicious iron trap clamped to its leg. The metal teeth of the cruel device had bitten deep just below the knee, all but severing the limb. Megan sank to the ground beside the poor horse, laying a hand on its head, its eyes rolling as it fought to free itself.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, even as she heard the soldiers come thundering into the clearing behind them. “Forgive me.”

She tasted bile rising into her mouth and had the sensation she was falling from a great height. Then, to the unforgettable roar of the dying horse, blackness claimed her.

9

O
N
S
UNDAY MORNING
the children had dragged everyone out of bed early for the promised walk. The mist had lifted just enough to make it a viable option, though the skies were anything but clear. Angus had already been to the shop for the papers and breakfast had been eaten at record speed. Laura washed up as Steph tried to organize the boys.

“Hamish!” Steph grabbed the boy as he sprinted past her. “You haven’t cleaned your teeth this morning. Go on, quickly now, everyone else is ready to go.”

“Mum, do I have to?”

“Did you ever see a mountaineer with bad teeth? Course not. You want to go hill walking, you gotta have clean teeth, OK?”

“OK,” he grumbled, heading for the stairs.

Laura watched the way William stepped forward to make the most of his brother’s temporary absence.

“Look, Auntie Laura, I’ve got everything we might need in my backpack, in case of emergencies.”

“Wow, you do look well equipped. Let’s see, bandages, a compass, packets of dried food. How long are you planning on being up there?”

“You have to be prepared. Look, this is so cool. It’s a survival blanket.”

Steph peered over Laura’s shoulder. “Looks like something to wrap the Sunday roast in.”

“Mum! It’s made of the same stuff astronauts use in space. It’s to stop you dying of exposure.”

Laura laughed with the others, but she could not shake off the feeling of unease that had dogged her since casting the spell the day before. After Anwen’s extreme reaction Laura had spent a difficult hour on the Internet trying to translate the words of the incantation. If she had only bothered to acquire a Welsh dictionary when they had moved to Penlan the task might have been a simple one. As it was, she could only find translations for a few of the words by picking through place names and snippets of quotations and poems given in parallel texts. Despite gaps, though, she discovered enough to make her feel ill at the thought of what she had been doing. It was clear Rhys had lied to her. This was not a spell to increase fertility or the chances of conception. This was a hex, a curse, and a very specific one at that. No wonder he had been keen for her to use Dan’s name in it. It had not been a generous act at all. He must have known her conscience would not allow her to put Rhys’s name on the egg, so he had rightly assumed he would not be the one cursed. From what Laura had gleaned the incantation implored whatever powers where listening to separate the two people named and see that they were kept apart forever. She found the wickedness of this deceit breathtaking, and did not wonder, now, at Anwen’s fury. She also marveled at Rhys’s cleverness. Had he had her sticking pins in dolls or setting fire to a few stolen hairs from Dan’s comb she might have been suspicious. But an egg, somehow it was such a universal symbol of fertility that she never questioned it. At first she had wanted to confront Rhys, to tell him what she knew. How dare he trick her like that? How could he lead her into doing something so vile? But, after a restless night spent turning the thing over and over in her mind, she decided to say nothing. At least, not yet. She would wait until Steph and Angus had gone home. It was too complicated to deal with Rhys while they were still at the house, and there was the wretched walk to get past first.

Dan came into the kitchen, clapping his hands together, full of purpose and enthusiasm.

“Right! Are we all ready?”

Laura pointed to William’s pack and said, “Ready for anything, I’d say.”

“It’s stuff in case of emergencies, Uncle Dan.”

“Splendid. Be prepared for anything, William, absolutely right. I was a boy scout myself, you know. In fact, I got my whittling badge when I was only…”

“Oh, please.” Steph gave an exaggerated groan. “Spare us the Boy Scouts stuff. Angus! Where the hell are you?”

“Coming, oh great one.” Angus appeared wearing a striking pair of hiking shorts.

“My God,” said Dan. “The last surviving member of the Famous Five!”

“Mock me if you will, Daniel Matthews, you know you’re just jealous.”

“I think you look the part,” Laura told him, as Hamish came scampering back into the room. “Here we are. You’re all set then.”

“Not quite,” said Steph. “Where’s your lovely guide?”

Laura had half hoped Rhys wouldn’t show up. The appointed hour for the walk had come and there was no sign of him. Had he thought better of spending so much time with his lover’s husband? The answer to Laura’s question came with a knock on the open front door.

“Hi, everyone ready?” Rhys flashed one of his most charming smiles. Everybody smiled back. Everybody except Laura.

After much jostling for position the party set off. Laura and Steph stood in the yard to watch them leave. There was no wind, just a dampness in the air after such a long spell of mist and rain. Laura felt strangely uneasy as she watched the boys trotting off behind Rhys. She shook her head to rid herself of silly notions and turned back to the house.

“I’ll make some fresh coffee,” she said.

Inside Steph sat down at the kitchen table and flicked idly through the Sunday papers.

“All seems a million miles away, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“Oh, all this news, the rest of the world, real life.”

“This is real life. Real for me and Dan, anyway.”

“If you say so.”

Laura stole a glance at Steph, but she seemed intent on an article. She sensed that her friend had something on her mind. She measured coffee into the percolator and tried to decide if she could risk confiding in Steph. It would be good to talk to someone, but was it fair? She was Dan’s friend, too, after all. The decision was made for her when Steph straightened up, looked her in the eye, and said, “So, have you let him shag you yet?”

Laura opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by the knowing look her friend was giving her. She sighed, sitting down heavily at the table.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ He is gorgeous, I grant you, but hells bells, Laura, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know. It just … happened.”

“Oh
please
! What does that mean, exactly? He just
happened
to be passing when all your clothes just
happened
to fall off, and he just
happened
to jump your bones? Somewhere along the line you made the decision to have an affair, Laura. At least admit that much.”

Laura closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “It isn’t as simple as that.”

“Yes it is. He fancied the pants off you, you got all flustered and flattered. Fine, you could have left it there. But no, you chose to sleep with him. You’re cheating on Dan, and you’re lying to yourself.”

“Look, I’m not trying to excuse what I’ve done. I’m just saying there was more to it than that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with him! Please don’t tell me that.”

“No. No, I’m not. It was a physical thing.”

“So you’re risking your marriage, and you’re prepared to hurt Dan, just for a shag?”

“Steph…”

“I don’t see what’s complicated about it. You think I haven’t been tempted? That I haven’t had offers in the twelve years I’ve been with Angus? Of course I have. It’s an ego boost, it makes the old pulse speed up a bit, you get all wet-knickered at the thought of the guy for a few weeks, but you don’t act on it, for Chrissake. You buy some sexy clothes, daydream, watch silly movies, snap at your spouse. Then you wake up one morning and realize the object of your lust is a bit of a plonker anyway, and you’d have to spend ages training him up, and you move on. You don’t throw away everything for a crush.”