Villagers flitted through the smoke, comforting the bereaved and gently separating them from the bodies. Now the initial shock had worn off, the living were taking care of the dead, carrying the fallen to a place out of sight where they could be readied for burial.
Ordinarily the dead would need to be buried soon so as not to attract predators and vermin. Now there was no need to hurry. It was too soon after winter for flies, and in this abandoned wilderness the corpses would not attract so much as a single carrion bird.
Now Dodinal understood why this was. It had nothing to do with the weather, as they had assumed. The wild beasts had not gone south to survive the winter, but had fled there, scared away by the gargoyle creatures that swept through the forest like a plague.
Dodinal hailed a passing woman and asked her to accompany Rhiannon to her hut, not wanting her left alone. But Rhiannon would have none of it and insisted on seeing to the wounded, since she was the village healer. Dodinal did not try to stand in her way. Far from it; he felt that with her work to distract her, she was less likely to spend the night fretting over her missing son, even if there was no distraction great enough to keep him far from her thoughts.
So he left her to it and wandered through the village, giving out words of condolence or reassurance to the survivors, who wandered around helplessly, unsure of what to do in the absence of any clear leadership. He had no desire to interfere in their affairs, but with Idris dead and Gerwyn yet to return, he felt he should guide them, for their sake and not his own.
As he walked, he searched for familiar faces. Eventually he found one, gratified to see Hywel, the quietly-spoken tracker, among those who had embarked on the grisly task of carrying the dead to the hut where their mortal remains would be stored overnight. Its original inhabitants were presumably among the lost.
There was no preamble. Each man understood what had happened. Neither felt the need to speak of it, only of what should be done. “They will start digging at first light,” Hywel told him, taking a break from his grim duties to walk the perimeter with Dodinal so they would not be overheard. “What happened here tonight… people have yet to come to terms with it, let alone consider what will become of us after the burials. Idris is dead. His son is his heir, but no man here will accept Gerwyn as their brehyrion. I fear for us.”
“Until tonight they only took children by stealth,” Dodinal said. “Then word spread, and villages started keeping their children indoors. The creatures will not give up. Direct confrontation was inevitable.
“We were unlucky. We were the first. But we hurt them. They will be in no hurry to return. You have nothing to fear.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hywel said. He stopped and looked up at the moon. Another two days and it would be full. “Idris did not know you for long, but he held you in great respect. As do we all. We would do well with you to guide us through the hard days ahead.”
“You honour me.” Dodinal remembered how he had laughed off Rhiannon’s suggestion that he might one day take over from Idris. So amusing then, so tragically prescient now. “But I will be leaving come dawn. The children are alive. I will find them and bring them home. I made a promise to Rhiannon and I intend to keep my word.”
“Then I will leave with you, if you will take me.”
Dodinal shook his head.
Hywel scowled. “Those things were like nothing I have seen before. You know what they did. They tore our people limb from limb, yet we failed to kill even one of them. You are a great warrior, but you would not stand a chance alone.”
Dodinal shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not. If I have to give my life to save others, then so be it. I am not afraid. But too many people have died tonight, Hywel. The village needs good men like you if it is to survive. Besides, a man travels faster when he travels alone.”
“And a man dies faster when he fights alone,” Hywel snapped back. Dodinal could not help but laugh, despite the night’s shattering events. Even so, he would not be swayed and when the two men parted he shook Hywel’s hand solemnly. Whatever happened, he was certain he would not see the tracker again.
He intended to return directly to Rhiannon, to offer whatever comfort he could. But on his way he heard a familiar voice raised in anger, and he knew that Gerwyn had returned.
FIFTEEN
As the knight cast eyes on Gerwyn, the late brehyrion’s son saw him and came storming across the ground towards him, hands curled into fists. His eyes shone a deep amber in the firelight, lending him a feral, almost demonic look. “What happened here?” he demanded, his voice loud and strident. “My father is dead and I want to know why.”
Dodinal looked beyond him to the two men guarding the old man’s body. Standing close to them, awkward and fidgety with nerves, were the brothers Gerwyn had taken on his hunting trip. It came as no surprise to him that they had returned empty-handed. One of the brothers shrugged helplessly as Dodinal held him in his gaze. The knight ignored him and returned his attention to Gerwyn.
“We were attacked.”
“Really?” Gerwyn spat. “You think I have not worked that out for myself? I am no simpleton, no matter what you think.”
One of his hands now clasped his sword hilt, but as yet he had made no effort to draw it. Dodinal tensed. He was willing to forgive the man his hostility in the light of his father’s death, but if he spilled over into outright violence, the knight would put an end to it. “I did not intend to suggest that you were,” he said. “If you let me speak, I will explain what happened.”
Gerwyn dismissed the words with an angry gesture. “You are alive. My father lies cold on the ground. Even a simpleton can see you were more interested in saving your own hide than protecting his.”
“He had no duty to protect your father, you gutless bastard.”
Dodinal turned his head at the unexpected interruption.
Rhiannon marched towards them, wearing a furious expression. “He had no duty to protect anyone, but he did because he chose to.” The words tumbled out of her in a torrent. “He led the fight against the creatures that attacked us. Yes, your father is dead, but know that he died valiantly. If it were not for Idris and Dodinal, and the other brave men of the village, we would all be dead and our children would all have been taken.”
Gerwyn assumed a condescending air. “‘Creatures’? You must have taken a knock to the head, woman.”
“That’s enough,” Dodinal growled, but the words were lost as Rhiannon drew level with Gerwyn and, without breaking stride, slapped his face with the palm of her hand, hard enough to rock him on his feet. She thrust her face into his, spraying him with spittle. “Where were you when all this was happening? Far from here, shying away from hard work, just as you have always done.”
Gerwyn was frozen in place.
“It’s a pity you weren’t around to help defend us when we were attacked. My son might still be here if you had been, and your father might still be alive.” Rhiannon jabbed a finger hard into his chest. “If you want to blame anyone for his death, then blame yourself.”
With that she spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving Gerwyn thunderstruck, with a livid welt on his face. The fight had gone out of him. When he turned to Dodinal, he appeared to have just surfaced from a sleep filled with confusing dreams. “What did she mean about Owain? And what is all this talk of creatures? Has the world gone mad?”