Stronghold by Paul Finch Read Free Book Online Page A

in Britain, it was given to the care of Bendigeidfran, who was slain resisting the Irish invaders. It was, as the bards tell us, broken in that fight, but it was later repaired and hidden again. For centuries its whereabouts remained a mystery, until Myrlyn located it. Since then, it has passed from one generation of our order to the next, always in safekeeping."
    He spoke fondly, and with his usual eloquence. But Countess Madalyn was fast becoming weary.
    "I come to you with a genuine grievance, Gwyddon. I offer you a fabulous reward. And you mock me with this!"
    "Mock you, countess?"
    "Both you and I know that this is some harmless cooking pot."
    "Indeed?"
    He clapped his hands, and a young slave stepped forward. It was one of those who had served Countess Madalyn earlier. In full daylight, she identified him as a boy, though, by his cadaverous face, emaciated frame and the brand-mark on his forehead, which looked to have festered before it finally healed, servitude had been cruel to him. The mere sight of the wretched creature touched her motherly nature. Christendom forbade human slavery, and now she understood why.
    Gwyddon, of course, had no such scruples. Reaching under his robe, he drew out a bright, curved blade and plunged it into the slave's breast, driving it to the hilt, and twisting it so that ribs cracked. Blood spurted from the slave's mouth. He sagged backward on his heels, but only when the blade was yanked free did he drop to the ground.
    For a long moment Countess Madalyn was too aghast to speak.
    "Have I... ?" she eventually asked, her voice thick with disgust. "Have I quit the company of one devil only to be wooed by another?"
    "Everything I do has a purpose, countess."
    "Everything Earl Corotocus does has purpose..."
    "Wait and you will see."
    Gwyddon signalled and one of the acolytes from the cauldron came forth with a ladle. Gwyddon took it, knelt, and carefully drizzled brown fluid over the slave's twisted features. When the ladle was empty, he handed it back, rose and retreated a few steps, all the time making some strange utterance under his breath.
    Nothing happened.
    "Master druid," the countess said. "As a Christian woman, I cannot..."
    He hissed at her to be silent, pointing at the fresh-made corpse.
    To her disbelief, she saw a flicker of movement.
    Though the blood still pulsing from its chest wound darkened and thickened as the beat of its heart faltered and slowed, the body itself was beginning to stir. There was no rise and fall of breast as the lungs re-inflated; the eyes remained sightless orbs - unblinking, devoid of lustre. But there was no denying it; the slave was struggling back into a ghastly parody of life.
    First it sat upright, very stiffly and awkwardly. Then it climbed to its feet with jolting, jerking motions, more like a marionette than a human being. The undernourished creature had been stick-thin and ash-pale before, but its complexion had now faded to an even ghostlier hue. Its mouth, still slathered with gore, hung slackly open.
    Gwyddon's acolytes muttered together in awe. The chief druid himself seemed shaken. He licked his ruby lips. Sweat gleamed on his brow.
    The corpse stood there unassisted, as if awaiting some diabolic command.
    At length, Gwyddon came out of this daze and snapped his fingers. An acolyte rushed forward with a towel so that he could wipe his crimson spattered hands.
    "This... this is not possible," Countess Madalyn stuttered, circling the grotesque figure. "How can he have survived such a wound?"
    "He didn't," Gwyddon said. "He's as dead as the iron that slew him."
    She waved a hand in front of the slave's eyes - they didn't so much as blink. Gingerly, she prodded him with a finger. Even through his blood-drenched tunic, she could tell that his flesh was cooling. She prodded again, harder - the slave rocked but remained upright, staring fixedly ahead.
    "This is hellish madness," she breathed.
    "This is the Cauldron of Regeneration," Gwyddon said.