Warriors of Camlann by N. M. Browne Read Free Book Online Page B

enough about Rhonwen’s past to be able to hurt her. She picked up the crystal ball and boar’s tooth with her sword, an idea forming in her overheated brain. Maybe she could buy them more time. Taking the ball and tooth in her left hand she held them up for the Aenglisc to see.
    â€˜I am a great and powerful Heahrune. If you untie this woman before sunset all her power will fly to me. Ifyou pursue us she will die! With these things of hers I can kill her however far apart we are. Without her you are powerless against me. Do you understand?’
    Ursula’s translator looked grave and it seemed as if her guess about the importance of these objects was a good one. He trembled as he translated her words to the other Aenglisc. She hoped they could reach some kind of safety before sunset.
    Rhonwen lay on the ground beside the magical cairn of stones, trussed up like a chicken and gagged with a strip of fabric from her own robe. Ursula had a bad feeling that she would pay for this one day.
    â€˜Come, Larcius, let’s get out of here.’
    â€˜Bryn, well done! Let’s ride!’
    Trusting to the power of her words she turned her back on the armed Aenglisc spearmen and rode away. She hated to turn her back on an enemy but some instinct told her that it would give credence to her claims of power. It must have worked: no spear buried itself between her shoulder blades and they rode on unhindered. It took a long time for her breathing to return to normal and the palsied shaking of her hands to cease.

Chapter Seven
    Bedewyr and Gawain rode on in silence. Bedewyr was too afraid to speak – he did not know what kind of man or monster rode with him – while Gawain struggled to obliterate the memories of the recent fight from his mind. His body ached as if he had received the blows he’d dealt. He did not want to think too much. He trusted that his memory would return, as he trusted that the youth Bedewyr would take him somewhere safe. It was by far the easiest recourse. He trusted as the giant dog trotting at his side trusted, and relaxed into the saddle.
    He did not recognise the land they travelled through. They saw no fellow travellers on the overgrown Roman road and the land on either side of them was untilled and abandoned; it was like riding at the end of the world. They stopped a couple of times to drink water from a nearby stream and Bedewyr shared with him some coarse unleavened bread and poorly dried meat.Gawain ate both with quiet gratitude.
    â€˜Do you remember anything now?’ asked Bedewyr tentatively.
    Gawain shook his head. ‘If I may borrow your brother’s name a little longer, I would be grateful.’
    â€˜Your courage and skill in battle lends it honour,’ replied Bedewyr without conviction, though it was mostly true. His own brother would have been proud beyond description to have possessed even a quarter of this man’s skill with the sword – for himself he had never seen such savagery and Bedewyr feared it as much as he admired it.
    It was growing dark when Gawain became aware of a change in the appearance of the countryside. Even in the failing light it was obvious that they now rode through land that was farmed and cared for. He became uneasily aware of hidden eyes observing him. The road ahead was blocked by three mounted men riding abreast towards them. Gawain wished earnestly that he had not returned Bedewyr’s sword. The men were dressed as Ravens. All three wore helmets that covered their cheeks and shaded their faces; the helmets gleamed, bright with silver. They each carried flaming torches and their mail shirts glinted fire in their reflected light. Bedewyr relaxed perceptibly and Gawain was confused. Bedewyr was Combrogi; were these Ravens allies?
    Bedewyr rode ahead of him and eagerly greeted themounted men in Latin so heavily accented it took Gawain a moment to recognise the language he knew as well as the Combrogi tongues.