Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T hey set off into the forest, Cadell remaining in human form and carrying a painted pitcher of heavy cream, Carys and her flowers at his side, and Duncan bringing up the rear with the crate of journals on his shoulder.

"Do you remember the way?" Duncan asked.

"How many times have I visited your forge, human?"

Duncan muttered something that Carys couldn't hear.

The part of the forest where they were walking was alive with birdsong, and as they walked, dead leaves crunched under their feet. She was glad she'd dressed comfortably that morning. The daylight was dimming, but she had no idea what time it was. Clocks didn't exist in the Shadowlands, and neither did the sun.

She glanced over her shoulder at Duncan. "How do you get used to the darkness?"

His eyes met hers. "I don't. That's why I don't usually stay in this place for long stretches."

It had been over a week that they'd been gone, and her one trip back had been at night.

"Does time pass like normal in the Brightlands while we're here? "

Cadell said, "Unless you're taken by certain people with pointy ears into one of their forts or hills, then yes. A week here is a week in the Brightlands."

"It was a good idea to go back and call my friends." The passing of time in this place felt longer and shorter at once. It was easy to get confused.

"Well, I already had one American woman descending on me and threatening to call the police—I didn't want Mary facing two more." He glanced down. "She knows what it's like to worry."

All this was no big deal as long as Carys returned to Scotland unharmed. But what if she didn't? What if she was delayed? "You said that time passes the same, but what if I'm taken by the fae?—"

Cadell spun and swiftly put a hand over her mouth, stifling the words before they could leave her mouth.

"Christ, Carys." Duncan cursed loudly. "Watch your words."

Cadell looked to the left and right. He glanced up, then to the left again. The birds in the forest had gone silent, and something rustled in the underbrush.

He spoke directly in her mind. You're human. Don't tempt them with questions like that or they'll think you're curious.

When he released his hand, she whispered, "They're here?"

We are in the forest. Sprites and nymphs are the ears of the fae.

Carys nodded. "We should get on our way to see Angus."

Cadell looked down at his pitcher of cream. "I didn't spill it."

"You're acting like he's a fine fairy lord," Duncan grumbled. "He's Angus. He'd be happy with milk in a bowl. You didn't have to get fancy."

"We're asking the úruisg for a favor. Show the proper respect."

They passed over a small rise and then down again into a narrow hollow in the folded hills where Carys could hear a stream flowing. They walked over a small stone bridge, and the birds started singing again. A lightness filled the air despite the gloom overhead, and Cadell's shoulders relaxed .

"This is a good place." He nodded at Duncan. "You've warded it well. Safe from fae ears."

"It is," Duncan said. "But the wards are all Angus. I wish I had a bit of the magic that Carys does, but no spell works for me."

"I told you he was powerful," Cadell said. "How do you think they haven't found this place in the past ten years?"

Carys asked, "You've had this place for ten years?"

Cadell and Duncan exchanged a look but said nothing.

They walked down the hill, following a cobbled path set into the forest floor, and down into a grotto where high stone walls rose on either side. The air was damp and green, moss covered the rocks, and the scent of growing things overwhelmed the dry air and dusty leaves of the winter forest.

Carys frowned. "What have you been hiding and from whom?"

"How happy do you think the local fae would be to know a human smith was working in the Shadowlands?" Duncan turned to the right. "Angus!"

A stone archway appeared over a crack in the rocks, and standing under it was a creature like nothing Carys had ever seen. He had the legs of a goat, the muscled body of a human, and was dressed in hairy animal skins from the hood that draped over his twisted grey hair to the end of his long arms. Sheepskins if Carys had to guess. They were covered in sticks and leaves, as if he'd been rolling around in the forest.

"Angus." Duncan set down the crate. "I've brought you a guest. Carys, welcome to my very illegal forge."

Angus stepped forward, his loping gait reminding Carys of a man on stilts. His face, despite his hair, wasn't as old as she'd expected. He had a long, straight nose and deep brown eyes. His beard was wavy and stone grey, threaded with grass and flowers, and while his light brown skin was flecked with dirt, he smelled of fresh water and grass.

"Has Seren returned from the Annwn then?" the creature said. "Or is this her kin?"

"Her Brightkin," Duncan said. "This is Carys. She came to me looking for Lachlan. "

"Ah." Angus glanced at Duncan from the side. "The spoiled boy has made a mess, I think." He leaned down and took a long sniff. "You have the smell of the sun and the shadow at once." The creature cocked his head at an angle. "And you have magic."

"She is nêrys ddraig," Cadell said. "Like her twin."

"Interesting." Angus stared at Carys for a long minute, examining her face.

Unnerved by his silence, Carys held out the bouquet of flowers. "I brought these for you."

"You're a clever one." Angus took the flowers and studied the bluebells and tansy. "You want a favor, Seren's twin."

"My friends call me Carys."

"I am not your friend." Angus looked up. "But I do find you interesting. You have the scent of Epona's daughters in your blood."

"I don't know what that means." Carys narrowed her eyes. "But you don't have an accent."

"I speak to all creatures in the language they understand," Angus said. "I don't need an accent."

"Wait, what?" Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. "You speak Scots English like me."

"He speaks Cymric." Cadell smiled a little. "Don't you, Angus?"

Angus waved a hand and hunched his back, dragging the hairy cape over his head. "Don't ask me questions, dragon. What do you want?"

Cadell held out the pitcher of cream. "I couldn't find silver or gold. Forgive me, but I was coming from the human's house."

"I don't have a silver pitcher," Duncan said.

"And I don't want one. I'm not a dragon." Angus took the pitcher of cream and lifted it to his lips, drinking it down so fast it dripped out the sides of his mouth and into his beard. "Milk from the earth. Clay from the soil." His eyes lightened. "My thanks to you, dragon. I don't need your gold or jewels." He turned to Carys and motioned toward the arch. "Come see, Brightkin. You can ask me your questions and I'll smell you a bit longer. "

She looked at Duncan. "Smell me?"

He shrugged. "It's Angus."

Duncan's forge was little more than a covered shack with open windows, a wood-shingled roof, and a massive pile of firewood sitting outside to feed the great billowing beast of a fire.

Throwing off his sheepskin cloak, Angus worked the bellows, shirtless and sweating, his hair bound back in a long braid and his beard sizzling as the sparks from the fire flew out.

"How does he not get burned?" Carys asked Cadell, who was sitting far closer to the fire than she was comfortable with.

Cadell turned to her, his face glowing and flushed from the flames. He looked as happy as a pig in mud. "The water follows him. I don't think it's even possible for an úruisg to be burned."

"He can't be. Makes him the perfect partner." Duncan strode past her, his cloak also stripped away and his massive arms bare to the shoulder. "How is it?"

"Stubborn," Angus glared at something glowing in the coals. "Almost as stubborn as you." He took a pair of tongs and lifted a red-hot piece of metal from the fire. "It's thin; we could do with more if he was willing to give it."

Duncan turned to Cadell and held out his arms. "You're here."

Cadell glanced at Carys. "I don't want to scare her."

Angus looked at Carys from the corner of her eye. "That one doesn't scare easily. Her father made her brave."

Carys looked at the strange creature. "What do you know about my father?"

"No questions right now." Angus waved at Cadell. "Do it, dragon. We've been working on this thing for too long, and he'll need it soon."

"You'll have to melt the blade down and reforge it," Cadell said. "It will take time."

"Time I have," Angus said. "Do it. "

Duncan walked to the forge and picked up the glowing metal with the tongs Angus had put down. He sighed deeply and leaned on a low stone wall. "Unfortunately, I agree with Angus. The extra weight will be worth it if you're willing to do it."

Cadell looked at Carys. "We've come this far," he said in a low voice. "But this is the last time."

"It's all we'll need," Angus said.

The dragon walked to a clearing on the other side of the forge and stepped out of his human skin and into his beast, spreading his wings and taking to the sky with a fantastic roar.

Carys's heart leaped in her chest as she watched Cadell soar overhead, his body breaking the sky as he flew back and forth, clearly stretching his wings.

She whispered, "He really hates being human."

Duncan walked over and looked up. "Aye, it's not natural for them."

She looked at Duncan, then at Angus. "So you built a secret forge so the fae don't know you're forging iron weapons."

"You guessed that in one," he said.

"Where are you getting the iron?"

Duncan said, "You'll find out shortly." He looked down. "Lachlan doesn't know about it either, so not a word."

"Why not?"

"He's shit at keeping secrets." Duncan glanced at Angus. "And this is a very big secret."

"I thought the fae wouldn't let any iron be mined or brought into Briton."

"We're not mining it." Duncan glanced at Angus. "I'd like to say I managed to sneak some from the Brightlands through the fae gate, but I'm not that clever."

Angus walked behind the forge and yelled, "He's definitely not that clever."

Duncan watched the sky. "Have you ever heard that phrase ‘forged from the blood of my enemies'?"

Carys blinked. "I'd always assumed that was a metaphor because I'm not really a fan of mass murder to get tiny amounts of iron from human blood."

"Turns out you can forge iron made from the blood of friends too." Duncan watched the dragon flying overhead. "If that blood is willingly given."

"Oh my God." Carys got to her feet. "Are you telling me?—"

"The amount of iron in human blood is minuscule compared to the amount in dragon blood." Duncan walked toward the meadow as Cadell circled closer.

The beast let out an awesome roar before he sprayed a column of fire into the air, circled once more, then came to rest in the meadow near the forge, his massive wings stretched out and his throat glowing with fire.

The air around them churned as he beat his wings in the air, rearing up to bare his green body and the iridescent shimmering skin beneath his wings.

"I'm not forging iron, Carys." Duncan stared at Cadell. "I'm forging steel. Dragon steel."

Angus approached the beast, dragging a large wooden barrel and a spear the length of a tall man.

Carys rushed toward Cadell, but Duncan caught her by the shoulder.

Hold, Nêrys. Cadell's voice came to her mind. I give this willingly.

She froze, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Iron doesn't bother Angus. He doesn't love it, but it doesn't burn him. I suppose that should have been the primary clue that he's not really fae like Cadell said." Duncan watched carefully as Cadell leaned to the side and lifted his wing. "You may not want to watch this."

"I'll watch."

Cadell roared as the spear punctured his thick skin, and the rising fire in his throat glowed brighter than the forge.

Angus shouted something as he pulled the spear from Cadell's side and angled the barrel toward him. Dark red blood spurted from the wound, and Carys felt the ache in her side as Cadell's blood poured into the barrel.

"Carys?"

She bent over, nausea and pain sweeping through her as spots flashed behind her closed eyes.

Nêrys?

"I'm okay." She held her hand out as Duncan grabbed her to hold her up. "I can take it if he can."

Seren never felt it. Cadell sounded upset. She said she never felt it.

"Then she lied because it was important." She looked up at Duncan with tears in her eyes. "It's important, right?"

Duncan's face was a mask of anger. "Humans here have no defenses. No weapons that work against them."

The fae can never know. Cadell's voice was softer. They must never know how this blade was forged. They must never know what we can do.

"Enough!" Angus shouted. He pushed a heavy blanket into Cadell's wound. "Stay still, dragon."

A surge of power hit Carys's side, and the pain ceased immediately. A wave of soothing heat washed over her, then a growing burst of energy as the wound in Cadell's side knit together. Within minutes, Carys felt as if nothing had happened, and Angus was dragging the massive steaming barrel of dragon blood toward the forge.

"I'll bring the crucible," he muttered. "You feed the fire."

"How many times has he done that?" Carys asked. "Seren knew?"

Duncan walked to the woodpile. "It was her and Cadell's idea. Angus and I were forging the sword for Seren. When she died, Cadell and I decided to continue."

"So she could fight the fae?" Carys straightened herself. "Why would she need to do that?"

"I don't know, and I didn't ask." He started feeding more wood into the fire. "She knew I was a blacksmith and asked for my help."

"And you didn't think to mention this before?" Carys stared at the steaming barrel of blood. "This could be why she was killed, Duncan."

He shook his head. "The fae wouldn't kill with poison. When they kill, they want humans to know it was their doing. They don't know anything about this."

Angus walked over, carrying a large clay crucible. "I'll refine it like the rest." He eyed Carys. "She felt it?"

"Yes."

"So her sister did too." Angus's eyes gleamed. "I knew she was an impressive human."

"I need to read her journals." Carys wasn't interested in waiting anymore. "I need to find out who killed her and why."

Angus angled his head again, examining Carys like a bug under a microscope. "You came here to find your lover."

"And I found a sister instead. One who was murdered, and I want to know why."

Angus shook his head. "That's not all you want to know. And you don't love that one. Not really."

"What are you talking about?" She walked over to the crate of Seren's journals. "Do you know why Seren was killed? Can you translate these or not?"

"You have three questions, Brightkin." Angus crossed his arms. "You get one . Can I translate the journals? Do you love the king's son? Why did someone kill your sister? Pick the one you want me to answer, and I will answer it."

Carys felt the taste of a bargain ringing in the air. "You'll answer truthfully?"

Angus nodded. "I will."

"Do you know the answers to all those questions?"

"Perhaps yes. Perhaps no."

Carys didn't care what Angus thought about her love life, so she ignored the question about Lachlan. That left translating the journals or why Seren was killed.

Angus knew his own abilities, but she had no confidence he knew why her sister was murdered. He seemed like a hermit, and she doubted he was Seren's confidant.

"Can you translate the journals? "

The corner of his craggy mouth turned up, and he snapped his fingers over the crate of books. "Done, Nêrys Ddraig. I'll accept your dragon's blood in payment." Angus angled his body toward the forge and the massive barrel full of dragon blood. "I have work to do."

Duncan walked over to the crate of books and lifted one. He opened it and blinked. "They're still in Welsh."

"Give it to me." Would Angus lie? She didn't think so. When she opened the journal, the words swam in front of her for a moment before they settled into familiar shapes and sorted into words she recognized.

"I can read them." She closed one journal and took out another. The same thing happened. The handwriting was a little different, but she could read the heading at the top of the page.

Season of harvest, my fourteenth year.

Carys clasped the journals to her chest. "I can read them."

Cadell stared into the fire at Duncan's cottage. "In a few moments, I will regain my strength and I can fly you back to the castle."

"Or we could walk." Carys hadn't experienced the thrill of flying in the claws of a dragon, and she didn't want the first time to be when she was cold, tired, and hungry and Cadell was recovering from blood loss. "I promise I'll walk fast."

Cadell didn't roll his eyes, but his expression said he wanted to. "Fine."

Duncan was stirring a pot that hung over the fire. "Angus said you smelled like Epona's daughters. Do you know what that means?"

Carys racked her brain to dig out her memories of Epona. "She's a Gallo-Roman deity. She was a fertility goddess associated with horses. A psychopomp as well."

"Psychopomp?" Duncan asked .

"A spirit or deity associated with escorting souls after death," Carys said. "Think Anubis, the grim reaper, the angel of death. Pan, in some of his forms. Valkyries. That type of spirit."

"Valkyries are…" Cadell blew out a breath. "Don't get me started."

Carys blinked. "Okay, there's a story there."

"They revere Epona in Kernow." Cadell ignored Carys's implied question. "You call it Cornwall in the Brightlands. That region is part of Cymru under Dafydd's rule, though the lords there are given much independence. They occasionally produce nêr ddraig, so politically they're considered the same people."

"Interesting, but what does that have to do with Epona? Who are Epona's daughters? I don't remember reading about Epona having any daughters within the Celtic pantheon."

"Not daughters of her blood, but there is a cult of Epona that exists among the humans of Cymru," Cadell said. "There are women who devote themselves to her worship, but they don't have daughters. The fae never give them children. Epona's daughters take vows of celibacy and live in isolation."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Maybe your mother's Shadowkin is part of this group." Duncan stayed hunched over, stirring their dinner. "Seren was delivered to Dafydd and not your mother's Shadowkin. Maybe that's why."

"Ironic that servants of the fertility goddess aren't given children," Carys said.

"The fae hate Epona's cult," Cadell said. "They don't revere fae power or pay tribute, but Epona's magic protects her daughters so the fae are forced to leave them alone."

Carys nodded. "That's probably it then. My mother's Shadowkin is one of Epona's cult." She winced. "Such a negative connotation to that word even though I know?—"

"Why is a cult bad?" Cadell frowned. "What do you call devotees to gods and goddesses in the Brightlands?"

"Religions?" Carys shrugged. "Worshippers? Faithful?"

"Then call them Epona's faithful if it makes you more comfortable." Cadell reached for Seren's journal. "The important thing is Angus translated the journals for you. Now you can read about the grain harvest and Seren's archery lessons." He set the journal down. "Fascinating."

"It might be." Carys scooted closer to the table. "I won't know until I read them."

Duncan stared at the fire, stirring away at the stew. "Why did Angus say you don't love Lachlan?"

Carys's breath caught. She cleared her throat. "I don't know. He's an old úruisg. What does he know about my relationship with your brother?"

The cross human is jealous.

Carys looked at Cadell, but the dragon had his eyes closed, so he missed Carys's mind-your-dragon-business look.

Duncan took a hook and pulled the stew off the fire, taking the steaming pot to the stove where three bowls were waiting. "Dinner is ready. Eat; then we should go back to the castle."