Sanctuary (Dominion) (33 page)

“The fire will eat at the wall, my lord,” Lorcan explained when he returned, “but no more than that. The sooner you get inside, the sooner I will let it die out.”

Cullach nodded and held up his arm. He looked down the lines to his left and his right, and he saw his men looking back, ready for the signal. Cullach threw his arm forward and his infantry charged across the plain, toward the city. They ran silently but with spirit, their weapons raised, their various pieces of armor thudding and clanging together from the run. Cullach waited until his men were almost to the wall, then he kicked his horse, and galloped off toward the city, his cavalrymen following in a thundering herd.

I stayed behind with Lorcan and his men, though not voluntarily. We waited at the tree line, unmoving, watching the horsemen until they reached the walls and then filtered through the flaming gap into the heart of the city.  The rest of Cullach’s men, those led by Malador, appeared from between two clusters of trees on the opposite side of the town and charged across the field to attack the south walls. I hadn’t seen Ruark’s men, yet, though I could have missed them in the excitement.

“We go,” Lorcan said, dragging my attention away from the battle. He was already back on his horse, which he twisted around and spurred on into the forest. The rest of his men followed quickly, as did we, since Boric still held the reigns of my horse. We moved through the woods for some time, veering left and right between the trees, and I wondered what part of the plan this might be. Eventually, we stopped at a clearing, with a wide path leading off to the south, away from Towyn. Two raiders waited for us there, but even though they wore no markings or symbols, I suspected they were Ruark’s men. They seemed dirtier than Cullach’s soldiers, and they watched us approach carefully.

“Well,” Lorcan said to them, “we’re waiting on you.” The two men looked at Lorcan disdainfully, before one nodded to the other and then rode off into the woods. Suddenly, I began to wonder if what we were doing was even part of the plan. The unease in the air was obvious, and Lorcan continually glanced over his shoulder as if waiting for someone to sneak up on him. I became anxious myself, expecting something terrible to come my way, and I reached down and clutched Avaline’s arm. When Ruark came into view a few moments later, along with two dozen of his men, I realized just how completely Cullach had been betrayed.

“Lorcan,” he said. He glanced over at Avaline and myself and frowned.

“My lord Ruark,” Lorcan said. “I trust we can leave before we’re missed?”

“Rest of my men are already headed for the boats. They’ll be ready to go soon as we reach them.”

Lorcan smiled. “Let’s not keep them waiting.” Lorcan turned his horse and moved down the path, alongside his new ally. Or perhaps his new master. Everyone else fell in behind them, and I wondered frantically how it could be this easy to betray a man who’d only moments ago led their army into battle.

“This better work, sorcerer,” Ruark growled. “I’m not comfortable letting Cullach have my spoils.”

“Just because they are his spoils today, doesn’t mean they won’t be yours tomorrow. Of course,” he waved his hand about whimsically, “tomorrow isn’t an exact prediction.”

Ruark grunted, not amused by Lorcan’s good mood.

“Do not fret, sire. Rhodric’s men were warned. He has defenders inside the walls. So if Cullach isn’t killed in the attack, then he’ll at least be severely weakened. And he is far too proud to let us slight him like this if he does survive. He will stand before us, demand our obedience, and challenge your authority, all while you laugh at him from behind the walls of Caer Gybi. Then you will watch as his men abandon him for your strength, and your ability to lead them to greatness. They will bring you his treasure, all the little trinkets they find in that town, and then you will have the mighty Cullach as your slave. Or his head as your trophy.”

“That I will,” Ruark said, turning his horse to ride toward the shore. “And it will be a long time coming.”

No. Cullach had walked into a trap, and now I was being led away by the wrong men. Cullach I almost trusted. We understood each other. He was a man searching for a home, like me. But not these two. One was a madman and a traitor, and the other didn’t know me, and could just as soon have me flayed alive for entertainment. I couldn’t be subject to the whims of these men. Not with Avaline, who I'd sworn to protect. I wanted to turn and run away right then, but Boric held the reigns tight.

“Rhodric will leave us be?” Ruark asked.

“For a while. Delivering Cullach will buy us at least a year or two. More than enough time to finish your army.”

Cullach would protect me. If I can find him, and explain what I saw, he’ll save me from Lorcan and Ruark. He would slay Lorcan for betraying him, and I’d be free of the miserable little sorcerer. Lorcan’s plan would fail, and Cullach would save us. But not if he’s dead. Not if his men are slaughtered.

Not if I followed these traitors meekly.

“I look forward to seeing you come through on your promises,” Ruark said.

Lorcan smiled back at him, but he sensed the undercurrent of doubt, just as we all did. Lorcan’s men glanced at each other, sharing their own looks of contempt for their new chieftain, and I used that moment of distraction to its fullest. I threw my hand out sideways, striking Boric in the center of his throat. His eyes bulged and he gagged, but more importantly, he let go of my reins. I steered the horse around, away from Boric, and rode as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

“Get them!” I heard Lorcan's shrill voice behind me. “Get the woman!”

I urged the horse ahead, willing it to run faster as we galloped through the dense forest. A glance over my shoulder showed that several of Ruark’s men were already behind me, much closer than I’d hoped, but the trees and brush were keeping them at bay. We emerged from the forest onto a narrow path that led south, back toward Towyn, and I veered left to take it. These men would go nowhere near Towyn after what they’d done, but I had to get closer to be safe. The path was narrow enough still that Ruark’s men couldn’t easily catch up to me, but that changed once we reached the forest’s edge and galloped into the open field.

Ruark’s men were much better horsemen than I, and one of them almost immediately pulled alongside and reached out, trying to grab my arm. I leaned away, just out of reach, but he countered by grabbing Avaline instead, and she cried out in surprise and tried to pull free. He yanked her toward him, and would have pulled her off the horse had I not reached back and wrapped my arm around her waist. The Irishman let go of her, but that was only so he could punch me in the side of my head, hard enough to rattle my sense of balance. I felt myself leaning too far to one side, so I let go of Avaline and grabbed the saddle to steady myself. The Irishman used the distraction to grab her again, and this time pulled her completely off the horse.

“No!” I yelled as she fell to the ground. The Irishman slowed to stay near her while my horse continued galloping forward, unaware that I wanted to stop. I grabbed the reins, and was about to pull up when I saw that all the raiders were now circling her. One leaned over and lifted her up onto his horse, and they all turned back. Other than a few angry glances, none of them made any move to come after me.

I watched Avaline’s prone body lying over the Irishman’s lap, and I wanted nothing more than to chase after them, but what could I do? I couldn’t fight them. If I even tried they would just beat or kill me. I was nothing more than a convenience to Lorcan. Nothing forced him to keep me alive other than his own curiosity.

I had only one option. I had to go to the town, and warn Cullach about what happened. He wouldn’t allow his sorcerer to so blatantly turn on him. I had to leave Avaline behind, but only for now. I would return, with help, and I would save her.

No matter the cost
.

Chapter 28

An orange haze covered Towyn, lit by the voracious fires spreading through buildings made of wood and thatch. Lorcan claimed his fire would stop at the wall, but instead the town was being eaten alive by his treachery. Worse, the fires were a beacon to anyone nearby who could help defend, as would the smoke be in the fast-approaching morning hours. Everyone in southern Gwynedd would see the signal, and they would come.

The sounds of battle rumbled from within as I approached. Men roared in the distance, swords clanged off shields, and every so often a terrible scream of anguish echoed through the streets. I found myself wishing with no small amount of guilt that the screams came from Welshmen and not Irishmen. Cullach’s men were my captors as well as the aggressors here, but I needed them alive. They were my only hope to free Avaline.

I reached the earthwork and dismounted, grabbing my satchel in case the horse decided to run away with it. The horse was skittish, and wouldn’t stand still, and when I let go of his reigns, he galloped away, to the east. I let him go and slid through the sharpened pikes jutting out from the trench and then darted up the short hill and through the scorched hole in the wall.

This part of town was deserted. A few bodies lay on the street, but they were Cullach’s men, along with two of the town’s defenders. But I saw no one else. No women hiding in houses, or children peering out windows or doors, like I’d seen in Eoferwic. If I hadn’t heard the commotion coming from deeper in the city, I’d have thought the place abandoned. I followed the sounds of battle, though, knowing they would lead me to Cullach. I could tell by the outer wall that the town was deliberately circular, which meant all of the important buildings, the ones the Irish would try to take, and the ones the defenders would want to keep, would be in the center. Like the church. The narrow road in front of me twisted to the left, then cut hard to the right. It was crowded with buildings, most of them creeping into the road itself, making it hard to know where it led. But it was the only path available to me, so I hurried along, hoping to find Cullach quickly.

I'd barely made it ten paces before a group of four men ran across the road in front of me, wearing chain armor, their swords and axes drawn. Blood spatters covered their hands and chest, although I couldn’t tell at first whether the blood came from their enemies, or from the gashes on their arms and legs. But I knew right away that these were Rhodric’s men, and they were looking for a fight.

One of them saw me, stopped, and pointed. “Who’re you?” he shouted angrily.

“I’m a priest,” I said, holding my hands up to show that I was unarmed, “I’m only trying to get to the church.”

“I don’t know you.”

“It’s a trick,” another said. “He’s wearing the robes to fool us.”

They took a few determined steps toward me, and I backed away. These were men under attack. They were confused and angry, and they would take no chances with anyone they didn’t know. If they didn’t believe me, they’d just as soon kill me to keep me from stabbing them in the back.

They already doubted me. So I ran. And they chased.

I doubled back the way I came until I saw a narrow alley between two buildings, about as wide as my foot was long, but I could still squeeze through it. I shuffled between the walls sideways, keeping my head turned behind me so I could see the Welshman who tried to follow me. He was too thick, though, and he got himself stuck at the entrance. He struggled, and then angrily abandoned the chase once something else grabbed his attention back on the street. I emerged on the other side, alone, and grateful for my thin frame.

Just as I started running toward the middle of town again, the backdoor of the building next to me opened, and one of the Welshmen burst through. He lunged at me, very nearly grabbing my robe before I ducked out of the way. I ran to my left, through the open door of a tavern, and the Welshman chased me between the overturned tables and chairs. I reached the kitchen, his heavy footsteps pounding on the wooden floor behind me, and darted around a giant cauldron sitting empty in the middle of the floor. That’s when he grabbed me, or more specifically, the strap of my satchel. I felt it yank against my shoulder, pulling me back and down, but I deftly slipped out of the strap, leaving it behind, and dove for the backdoor only a few paces ahead.

I burst through the door, only to trip on an overturned trough, and fell hard on my face and hands, right in the middle of a small, empty pen. The smell of pig dung assaulted me, but I ignored it and scurried forward out of instinct, trying to crawl and stand at the same time. I grabbed the waist-high fence enclosing the pen and fell over into the alley behind the houses. As I stumbled along the road, my pursuer hopped over the trough at the door and stepped over the fence. He had me now, and we both knew it.

He swung at me, wildly, and I flailed backward to avoid it, causing me to lose my already delicate balance and fall onto my backside. I scooted away as fast as I could, fearing for my life, but he merely walked toward me, holding his weapon in both hands, savoring his imminent kill.

The cavalier attitude I'd had for my own life these last few days disappeared, replaced with a numbing sensation that froze my body in fear. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d come here to find Cullach. To find help. Not to be cut down by an ignorant Welshman. I’d only meant to save her.

But I was saved, instead.

It came out of nowhere, a giant black-haired wolf, all fur and teeth, leaping from some spot out of my vision. It crashed bodily into my attacker, and he fell to the ground, the wolf nimbly landing on top of him. Its jaws clamped down on his wrist, and the man screamed. He grabbed at the wolf's fur and then its head with his free hand, trying to pull his other hand loose, but the wolf wouldn't let go. Not until he dropped his sword. When the blade finally hit the ground, the wolf loosened its grip and backed away, growling. The Welshman sat there, watching the wolf warily, and holding his injured hand. He finally worked up enough courage to stand, slowly, and once he got to his feet, he bolted down the road in the opposite direction. The wolf didn't follow.