The Endless Knot (50 page)

Upon seeing me, Bran cried out and struggled forward; the other Ravens shouted and turned on their captors, but all were clubbed with the butts of spears and dragged back into line.

“You see?” Siawn Hy gloated. “You never fully appreciated me, did you? Well, you have underestimated me for the last time,
friend
.” The word was a curse in his mouth.

“Listen to me very carefully,” I said, speaking loudly and fighting to keep my voice calm. “My war band is waiting at the gate. They are invincible. If anything happens to any of us, you will die. That is a fact.”

If Siawn Hy cared, he did not show it; my words moved several of his warriors, however. Paladyr's sword relaxed.

“It is true, lord,” he said. “We cannot hope to defeat them.”

Siawn waved aside the remark. “But I am not interested in defeating them,” he replied casually. “I am only interested in defeating the Silver Hand.”

“Then let the others go,” I said again. “Once they are free, I will command the war band to allow you safe passage. Without my word, none of you leave this place alive.”

“Listen to him, lord,” Paladyr said; a note of uncertainty had come into his voice.

“What is he saying?” demanded Weston, his voice an almost incoherent babble in my ears. He started forward. “I demand to know what is going on! You said there wouldn't be any trouble. You said it was all under control.”

“Get back!” Siawn snarled in the stranger's tongue. “I gave you what you wanted. Now it is
my
turn. That was the agreement.”

“Some of my men have been killed,” Weston whined. “What am I supposed to do ab—”

“Shut up!” Siawn growled, cutting him off with a chop of his hand. He turned to me once more. “If I let the others walk free, you will give us all safe conduct to leave—is that right?”

“I give you my word,” I vowed. “But they go free first.”

“No, Llew,” Goewyn pleaded softly. “I will not leave you.”

Siawn chuckled. “Oh, I am enjoying this.”

“The war band is waiting,” I told him. “They will not wait forever.”

“Do you think I care about any of that?” he mocked. “I will not be ordered about by my own prisoner.” He brought his face close to mine, breathing hard. The veins stood out on his neck and forehead. “Your word is nothing to me! You are nothing to me. I have had nothing but grief from you ever since you came here. But that is about to end, old friend.”

He backed away from me. “Do it!” he yelled.

“What do you want us to do, lord?” Paladyr asked.

“Kill him!” Siawn cried.

Paladyr hesitated.

“Do it!” Siawn shouted again.

Paladyr's head whipped around; he glared at Siawn. “No.” He lowered the blade and stepped aside. “Let the others go free, or they will kill us.”

“Paladyr!” The voice was Tegid's; the bard had waited for precisely this moment to speak. “Hear me now! You claimed naud, and Llew gave it,” he said, reminding Paladyr that he owed his life to me. “He did not lie to you then; he is not lying now. Release us all and you will not be harmed.”

“Silence him!” screamed Siawn Hy. I heard a crack, and Tegid slumped to the floor.

“I gave you your life, Paladyr,” I said.

“He is lying!” insisted Siawn. “Kill him!”

Paladyr shook his head slowly. “No. He is telling the truth.”

“Siawn Hy!” I said. “Take me, and let the others go.” To show I meant what I said, I turned the knife in my hand, took the blade, and offered him the handle.

“Oh, very well,” snarled Siawn Hy. He snatched the knife and half-turned away. Then, with a quick, catlike movement, he lunged into me. The blade came up sharp and caught me in the center of the chest just below the ribs. I did not even feel it go in.

Goewyn screamed and fought free. She ran two steps toward me, but Paladyr turned and caught her by the arm and held her fast.

I looked down to see the sharp blade biting into my flesh. With a cry of delight, Siawn thrust the knife deeper. I felt a burning sensation under my ribs and then my lung collapsed. Air and blood sputtered from the wound. Siawn forced the blade deeper still and then released it. The three men holding me stepped away.

My legs grew suddenly weak and spongy. I lifted my foot to take a step, and the floor crashed up against my knees. My hands found the knife hilt, grasped it and pulled. It felt as if a beacon fire had been lit under my chest and was now burning outwards. I flung the knife from me.

Blood, hot and dark, welled from the wound, spilling over my hands. A dark mist gathered at the periphery of my vision, but I was conscious of everything around me: Siawn staring at me with wicked glee; Cynan fighting with all his might, still pinned to the ground by Siawn's men; Paladyr grim and silent, clutching Goewyn's arm.

My throat tickled, and I opened my mouth to cough, but could not. My breath rasped in my throat. My mouth was dry—as if the fire in my chest was devouring me from within. I gasped, but could get no air. A strange, sucking sound came from my throat.

I put out my hand to support myself, but my elbow buckled and I rolled onto my side. Goewyn jerked her arm from Paladyr's grasp and ran to me. She gathered me in her arms. “Llew! Oh, Llew!” She wept, her warm tears falling onto my face. “Llew, my soul . . .”

I gazed up at her face. It was all I could see now. Though she wept, she was beautiful. A flood of memory washed over me. It seemed as if all I had endured in her pursuit was nothing—less than nothing— beside her. I loved her so much, I ached to tell it, but could not. The burning stopped, and I felt instead a chill numbness in my chest. I tried to sit up, but my legs would not move. Instead, I raised my hand to Goewyn's face and stroked her cheek with trembling fingers.

“Goewyn, best beloved,” I said; my voice came out as a dry whisper. “I love you . . . farewell . . .”

Goewyn, tears streaming from her eyes, lowered her face to mine. Her lips, warm and alive, imparting a final sweet caress, was the last sensation I knew.

Darkness descended over me. Though my eyes continued to stare, I could see nothing for the black mist that billowed over and around me, swallowing me down and down. It seemed that I was floating and falling at the same time. I heard Goewyn weeping, saying my name, and then I heard a roaring crash like that of the sea rolling in upon a far-off shore.

The sound grew until I could hear nothing else. It grew so great that I thought my head would burst with the pressure of the noise. For one terrible instant I feared the sound would consume me, obliterate me. I resisted, though how I resisted, I do not know. I could not move, could not speak or see.

But when I thought I could not bear it anymore, the sound stopped abruptly and the dark mist cleared. I could see and hear again, more clearly than I ever had before. I could see, but now saw everything from slightly above and outside my normal view. I saw Goewyn bent over me, cradling my still body in her lap, her shoulders heaving as she wept. I saw Siawn and Tángwen looking on, their faces flushed with a hideous gloating pride. I saw Paladyr standing a little apart, subdued, his arms hanging limp at his sides. I saw the Ravens and Tegid, stunned and staggered at the atrocity they were powerless to prevent.

I saw Cynan lying on the floor, enemies kneeling on his back as he raged against my death. I felt sorry for him. His wife had betrayed us all to Siawn, had deceived us from the beginning; he would bear the burden of that shame for the rest of his life, a fate he did not deserve. Through all things he was my good friend; I would have liked to bid him farewell.
Peace, brother
, I said, but he did not hear me.

Siawn turned and ordered his men to bind Cynan. Then he turned to Paladyr. “Pick up the body and carry it outside,” he commanded.

Paladyr stepped forward, but Goewyn clutched me tighter and screamed, “No! No! Do not touch him!”

“I am sorry,” he mumbled as he bent over her.

“Take her!” shouted Siawn. Two of his minions scurried forward, grabbed Goewyn, and tore her from me. Shouting, crying, she fought them, but they held her tight and pulled her away.

Paladyr knelt and gathered my corpse into his arms. Straining, he lifted my limp body and held it.

“Follow me!” Siawn Hy barked. He turned on his heel and started from the room, taking a torch from a nearby sconce as he passed.

At the vestibule, Siawn paused and let Paladyr pass. “They are waiting for their king,” he smirked. “They shall have him.”

Paladyr carried me out of the hall, across the empty courtyard, and out of the gate to the war band gathered beyond. Behind him came Siawn and Tángwen, followed by Cynan and Goewyn, both with a guard on either arm, though the fight had gone out of Cynan, and the guards had to support Goewyn to keep her upright. Tegid and the Ravens marched boldly forth, quickly recovering something of their dignity and mettle. Lastly came Weston and his hirelings, edging their way with fearful and uncertain steps.

The emerging procession provoked a quick outcry among the waiting warriors, but the sight of my lifeless body shocked them to silence. Scatha made to run to her daughter, but Siawn shouted, “Stop! No one, move!”

Then Siawn ordered Paladyr to lay my body on the ground. Brandishing his torch, he stood over me. “Here is your king!” he crowed, his voice raking at the shattered war band.

“Siawn Hy!” Scatha shouted. “You will die for this! You and all your men.”

But Siawn only laughed. “Do you want him? I give him to you. Come! Take him away!”

Scatha and two warriors stepped forward slowly. Siawn allowed them to approach and, as they neared, he pulled a flask from behind his bronze breastplate and quickly doused me with the contents. And then, as they stooped, their hands reaching for me, Siawn lowered the torch and touched it to the liquid glimmering on my skin.

A ball of bright yellow flame erupted with a whoosh. The heat was instant and intense. The fire spread swiftly wherever the liquid had penetrated. My clothing burned first and then my flesh.

Goewyn screamed and fought free of her captors. She would have thrown herself upon the flames, but they caught her again and hauled her back.

Siawn looked on my burning corpse with an expression of immense satisfaction. He had been planning his revenge for a long time, and he savored the moment to the full. Cynan, mute, immobile, did not look at the flames, but at his treacherous bride standing haughtily beside Siawn.

The layers of cloth burned away from my body. The skin on my face and neck began to shrivel and smoke as the flames licked over them. The fire crackled and fizzed as the fat from my flesh ignited. My hair burned away, and my siarc and breecs. My belt, because it was wound around my waist in several layers, was slower to burn. But as the first two layers of my belt were consumed, there appeared three round lumps.

Siawn, glancing down, saw the lumps and stared more closely. A strange light came into his eyes as he recognized the stones Tegid had given me to carry into Tir Aflan. Singing Stones, three of them, glowing white as miniature moons in the fire. Three Singing Stones within easy reach.

38
B
RIGHT
F
IRE

S
iawn Hy could not resist them. Despite the flames, he edged close and, quick as a striking snake, snatched up one of the song-bearing stones. He raised it with a wild shout of triumph. “With this stone, I conquer!”

The stone was hot and as he held it high, his cry still ringing in the air, the milk-white rock turned translucent as ice and melted in his hand. Siawn stared as the liquid rock ran through his fingers and down his upraised arm like water.

He bent to retrieve another stone, braving the flames once more. His fingers flicked out and closed on another of the precious stones; but as he made to withdraw it, the liquid rock ignited. Flames engulfed his hand and raced up his arm along the molten trail of the previous stone.

Siawn jerked back, still clenching the second stone. He held the flaming hand before his face. With a blast of pure white light the stone in his fist burst into a thousand pieces, scattering flaming fragments far and wide in a rain of shimmering white fire.

Each fragment melted and began to burn with a wonderful incandescence.

The third stone, still resting on my stomach, melted and the liquid stone began flowing like silver honey, like shining water. It covered my burning corpse and quickly seeped out onto the ground around me. Like a fountain it flowed, increasing outwards of itself, pouring up from my body, spreading and spreading in bright-shimmering waves. And where the melted stone touched one of the flaming fragments, it burned with flames of shining white.

Men drew back from the fire, and many ran. But there was no escape. The flames were as swift as they were bright. They raced before the wind of their burning, gathering greater speed as the fire kindled other fires and mounted, leaping toward the sky. The grass burned and the earth and rocks. The air itself seemed to ignite like touchpaper. Nothing was spared, nothing escaped the all-devouring white fire.

Everyone, friend and enemy alike, fell before all-engulfing flames. Siawn, standing nearest, was the first to succumb; he crumpled into a writhing heap. Tángwen rushed to him and was caught as the flames raced toward her, igniting her cloak and mantle; her hair became a fiery curtain. Seeing this, the guards dropped their weapons and ran, but the fire was swifter than their feet.

Cynan and Goewyn fell to the flames. Cynan alight from heel to head, staggered toward Goewyn to protect her, but she slumped to the ground before he could reach her, and after a few steps he expired.

Bran and the Ravens were caught, along with Tegid and Gwion. Their feet chained, they could not run, so turned to face the flames unafraid. Not so the enemy warriors guarding them. They stumbled over one another in their haste to flee. But the fire streaked like lightning along the ground and ignited them. At first they wailed in fear and agony, but their voices were quickly drowned in the roar of the onrushing blaze.