Blink, Penllyn Chronicles #4 Ebook

Across from me, Emlyn poured a mug of mead from Bleddyn’s own jug. His twin swords, Corff and Medwyll, Body and Mind in the Cymry language, still hung from his belts to either side of his chair. 

“Why did the beast want your sword?” Rhian asked me.

I shrugged. “It’s not every day a werebear sees a glowing sword that can cause wounds that won’t heal quickly. I’d try to take it too, if I faced one.”

“And magic arrows,” Bleddyn said as he sent another sliver of wood cascading into his lap. “Someone is flinging flaming arrows of magic around Penllyn. I’d like to know who.”

We all would, but none of us had answers.

A rap at Bleddyn’s door broke the silence. Cadoc rose and opened it to reveal Sawyl, escorting a man dressed in mud-streaked leathers. A sword hung from a baldric across his body. His hair was a light brown, as was the mustache above his lip. His eyes darted nervously around the room. Evidently he hadn’t expected a visit to his lord’s private chambers. 

“Pedr, come in,” Bleddyn said. Pedr, the first sword of Mechain. The head of their guard, under the Penteulu. Just as Gerallt was First Sword here in Penllyn, under Emlyn. Pedr had been with Lord and Lady Mechain when they attended Cadoc and Enid’s wedding.

“Yes, milord,” Pedr replied, his body stiff, attentive. He looked nervous. Unfortunately, for second in charge of Mechain’s war-band, he didn’t carry himself like a fighter. But, not every leader was in their role because of skill. Ruadh had told me, back at Cadoc and Enid’s wedding, that Pedr had gotten his post due to politics. He was probably a relation to Lord Mechain, or one of his top retainers. 

“You need to hear his report, Milord.” Sawyl said. 

Bleddyn waved them in. He pointed to the jug of water on a side table. 

“Have you had a chance to get a drink yet?” 

Pedr nodded. 

“He had a mug or two when he told me and Gerallt his tale,” Sawyl said. His face was expressionless, yet gave me a creeping sensation, like ice cold fingers grasping my spine. We had just learned of one major complication, and now another was about to fall into our laps.

Bleddyn motioned Pedr to begin.

“I just rode in from Nant Bywyd,” Pedr began. “The gates of Hell have opened and the dead are out of their graves. They walk in the night.”

We were all silent. No one seemed to want to share our experiences. Pedr glanced around, clearly expecting a much stronger reaction. 

“What exactly happened?” Emlyn prompted him.

“Last night, the bones of ancient warriors marched from village to village on the Penllyn side of the border. They drove the folks away in terror. Any man who stood against them fell to their spears and swords.” His face had lost color as he no doubt relived the memories of what he had witnessed. 

“I coming back from delivering a message, and saw the villagers running. I tried to rally the men of the next village. We didn’t believe their tales, until we saw them with our own eyes.” He looked down at his feet. I glanced down as well. The dress I had intended to work on lay spread out across my lap. I had tucked my needle into the sleeve to listen to his report. On the outside I probably appeared calm. Inside, however, I felt a cold chill spreading. The attack against us wasn’t the only time the dead walked Penllyn.

“Skeletal warriors with the old swords, like from the age of Buddug,” Pedr’s voice caught, then continued. “They were mere bones. Arrows and spears had no effect on them. Went right through them. Clubs worked best. Smash them to bits was all we could do. I set the women folk and children to pray for deliverance and kept the men armed and the defenses set.”

He swallowed hard, then set his eyes back on Lord Penllyn. Bleddyn’s color might have paled a bit. Dealing with a rogue lycanthrope didn’t seem as fantastic when compared to the dead warriors attacking Penllyn’s people directly. 

“The prayers did little, and the women and children ran when they saw the dead. Me and the men, those who didn’t break and run… we worked as their rear guard until we got to the next village. The one where Lord Dewi has built a hill fort on the Mechain side of the border next to Lady Seren’s lands. They set the men to watch with orders to fall back into Lord Dewi’s fort if the dead approached. Lord Mechain wanted you to be aware, so I volunteered to deliver the report.”

“When did these attacks begin?” Bleddyn asked, his eyes fixed on the guardsman.

“A night ago, milord. The folks from the first village…” Pedr paused and reached for a cup. Once he’d had a swallow or two of mead, he continued. His eyes darted nervously about those of us in the room. “The villagers, they said once the moon was in the sky last night, they heard the first screams. As the moon rose so did the dead.” 

  “How was our daughter? And Lord Dewi?” Rhian asked.

“Fine but worried,” he said. “Lord and Lady Mechain had come to visit. The villagers were fortunate that we were in the area with men. I had been out on an errand and was on my way back when I heard screams of the villagers running fleeing the dead.”

“Go get some rest.” Bleddyn patted the man’s shoulder. “You did well with unusual times. We’ll have plans laid by morning. Will you be able to go back and show us?” 

Pedr straightened. 

“Of course, milord.”

“Good man,” Bleddyn said. “Now go get some food and rest.”

“Keep this news to yourself,” Emlyn added. “Let’s not start a panic in the keep.” Pedr agreed then spun to leave. 

Emlyn’s eyes shifted toward me. There was a haunted look there. I knew him well enough now to understand that not much that scared him. He even understood my nature, thanks to his time with my brother of the undead, Aemi. But my kind of undead wasn’t what we faced now. Undead that marched in numbers across Penllyn. Walking corpses, some with flesh, others just bones. Undead that would send normal people running. Undead that don’t seem to care who they attack. Mindless. Following orders? But whose orders? How large was this army? Who led them? Why were they here?

I knew why I was here. To protect Penllyn, my new home. To protect Gwen and Emlyn, and the people here I had come to love.

But an undead army? Even Emlyn and I standing together would have a bad time with that. Two of us, against an army of skeletons, and walking corpses that didn’t know how to die? The situation had just gotten a lot worse. And neither of us really knew what to do.