Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 78

It was nearly nightfall when Tanwyn walked out of the vermillion wheat fields and flopped down by Cole's side under the overhang of a large boulder. Cole still wasn't used to the strange color of things in the Eldritch world, but the wheat was still filling when ground between rocks and baked into a hard bread with water. It was nothing like the food in the castle, but it was delicious after a day of acorns and pine needles in the forests. A few days of hard-bread baked on rocks in the sun was enough to make Cole wish to set up her house permanently by a field somewhere.

"What's the news?" she asked, offering Tanwyn some bread and a half-gourd of water. They'd had to steal the gourd from a house they'd discovered when they'd exited the forest, but it was an investment that was well worth it.

Tanwyn took a moment to chew and sip, before he stretched out his legs and leaned against his arms. "The bards are still there, thank goodness. I wasn't able to catch Cadfael alone, but he isn't under guard like I thought he might be. In fact, I didn't see any of Gethwine's people around."

"Good. It took us long enough to even get here," Cole replied. It had taken three days, to be exact, and they had been full of sneaking and keeping to fields and outcroppings in an attempt to not be caught by anyone that might have Queen Gethwine's ear. While they had no idea whether she knew of their entrance into the Eldritch world, they weren't willing to announce themselves, either. So, it was a long and careful trek to the village of the bards, especially with her mother still so weak.

She turned then to check on her mother, who was stirring restlessly in her sleep. She hadn't fully come to her senses since fighting Bastian, though her bodily strength had returned enough to endure a few hours of slow walking. Her mind, on the other hand, seemed to be far away most of the time. It only returned rarely, and only enough for her to groggily ask if they were all right and safe. Cole didn't have the heart to tell her about their plans. That they were about to start a war, not only with one kingdom, but two. It was best to let her think that they were merely trying to keep safe.

"We should head over now," Tanwyn said. "By the time we reach Cadfael's home it will be dark, but if we wait too long he'll bolt the door for the night. No one answers a knock late in the night."

They packed up the little camp that Cole had built while Tanwyn had been scouting that morning, and pushed around the dirt and rocks until it wasn't obvious that anyone had stayed there. She pocketed the hard bread that was left and hung the gourd from her belt. As she did that, Tanwyn gently shook her mother awake and helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily into him, and he guided her with a hand around her waist.

They walked into the blood red wheat fields, now contrasting with the lavender sunset, and toward the Village of the Bards. Or, as Tanwyn had called it in the Eldritch language, Pentryffbear.

The village sat at the edge of the wheat field, out in a long meadow flanked by gentle, rolling hills. The houses were small and quaintly circular, made of mud and painted with white clay that made them easy to identify even in the growing gloom of early night. They clustered together like roosting hens, kept safe by softly burning torches placed in the ground along a twisting path paved with seashells (though, to Cole's knowledge, there was no beach anywhere nearby). The gentle huffing of livestock and horses filled the night air from their pens and stables, and an overwhelming feeling of peacefulness drifted up toward the stars along with the smoke from small holes in the thatching of the houses. It did not seem like a village that would be touched by war, and Cole hated to be the one to bring strife to their doors.

Tanwyn scanned the village quickly to make sure that no one was outdoors, before he stepped onto the seashell path and led Cole and her mother to a house on the edge of the cluster. As they drew nearer, Cole could see that handprints had been pressed into the white clay wash on the walls, forming a circle where two strange ruins had been drawn in the center. Tanwyn saw her staring.

"It's his name and title. Bard Cadfael," he whispered. "Bards are extremely important here. They tell stories woven with the oldest magic known. Many seek them out, so they mark their dwellings to let those passing by know that they are within."

Cole nodded absently while Tanwyn rapped his knuckles against the light-oak door. Bards existed in Soma, of course, but not like what Tanwyn had told her of the bards that lived in this village. These were warriors, revered citizens nearly as important as the queen herself. Bards back in Soma could only tell tales and entertain for dinners or crowds, but here... well, they had attempted to change the shape of history. And for that, they had been rounded up and placed in the village so that Gethwine could keep an easier eye on them. But, thankfully, her eyes were trained elsewhere as the door slowly opened.

Orange light spilled out into the night air, bringing with it the smell of smoke and bubbling stew. A man stood on the other side of the door, wrapped in jade silk robes and with hair the color of moon beams cascading down his shoulders and to his waist. While his face bore no wrinkles or defects, he still had a sense of being much older than Tanwyn. His jaw was squarer, his eyes somehow more deep and wise. He scanned up and down with them, his fair eyebrows drawing together in confusion at the sight of a half-bald man, a scruffy girl, and a barely conscious woman on his doorstep in the infant hours of the night.

"Cadfael," Tanwyn said, and it took only his voice to cause the man's mouth to pop open.

"Tanwyn o Gorwaedt," he said, stepping backward and waving his arm to let them in. They piled toward the fireplace and the iron pot filled with stew. Tanwyn turned to their host, wincing. "I told you I don't like that name."

The man nodded. "I forgot. Lord Tanwyn."

"You know you can call me just Tanwyn. You rank higher than me in the courts, so there's no need for the 'Lord' business." He reached out to grasp the man's forearm, pulling him into an embrace. "And more than that, you're my friend."

The man patted Tanwyn's back, smiling as he pulled away and took in his appearance. "Well, I never would have thought that I'd see proud Tanwyn wandering through Avallen with... is this cut by your own hand?" he asked, scrubbing the top of Tanwyn's head as if he was a child. Tanwyn squirmed out of his reach, his face flushing red.

"You'd understand if you had been there with me in the human lands," he muttered, self-consciously running his own hand over the stubble on his scalp.

Cadfael smiled kindly. "I know of sacrifices in the name of your cause. Your mother gave up much when she attempted to take the throne. I can see that you are prepared to do the same."

Tanwyn frowned. "So you heard? I'm a traitor now."

Cadfael gestured to a low couch near the fireplace, made of deep brown leather and sturdy wood. Cole lowered her mother onto the cushion, and followed her. She sunk down deep, almost sighing in relief as her muscles relaxed and she leaned her head backward. Tanwyn sat next to her, his knee bumping against hers and his hip pressed close to her side.

"Yes, her majesty made sure that everyone knew that the Liar was not to be trusted or harbored. As is expected from a child born under the Liars Star, she said that you would be spreading false rumors that were too dangerous to be repeated." Cadfael lowered himself into a chair embroidered in gold thread, wrapping his green robes around himself and crossing his legs.