The Darkest Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

the reflection of the sunset sparkle off the curved glass beyond the parapet.
    “Be welcome,” said the figure on the dock in a voice unexpectedly deep. “Bright be the thread of your days.”
    “And of yours, forest one,” said the lios alfar. “I am Brendel of the Kestrel Mark. The woman with me—”
    “I know who she is,” the other said. And bowed very low.
    “By what name shall we call you?” Brendel asked.
    The other straightened. “I am pied for protection, dappled for deception,” he said reflexively. Then, “Flidais will do. It has, for this long while.”
    Jennifer turned at that and fixed him with a curious scrutiny. “You’re the one Dave met in the woods,” she said.
    He nodded. “The tall one, with the axe? Yes, I did meet him. Green Ceinwen gave him a horn, after.”
    “I know,” she said. “Owein’s Horn.”
    To the east just then, under a darkening sky, a battle was raging along the bloodied banks of the Adein, a battle that would end with the blowing of that horn.
    On the dock, Flidais looked up at the tall woman with the green eyes that he alone in Fionavar had cause to remember from long ago. “Is that the only knowledge you have of me?” he asked softly. “As having saved your friend?”
    In the boat Brendel kept silent. He watched the woman reach for a memory. She shook her head. “Should I know you?” she asked.
    Flidais smiled. “Perhaps not in this form.” His voice went even deeper, and suddenly he chanted, “I have been in many shapes. I have been the blade of a sword, a star, a lantern light, a harp and a harper, both.” He paused, saw something spark in her eyes, ended diffidently, “I have fought, though small, in battle before the Ruler of Britain.”
    “
I remember!
” she said, laughing now. “Wise child, spoiled child. You liked riddles, didn’t you? I remember you, Taliesin.” Shestood up. Brendel leaped to the dock and helped her alight.
    “I have been in many shapes,” Flidais said again, “but I was his harper once.”
    She nodded, very tall on the stone dock, looking down at him, memory playing in her eyes and about her mouth. Then there came a change. Both men saw it and were suddenly still.
    “You sailed with him, didn’t you?” said Guinevere. “You sailed in the first
Prydwen
.”
    Flidais’s smile faded. “I did, Lady,” he said. “I went with the Warrior to Caer Sidi, which is Cader Sedat here. I wrote of it, of that voyage. You will remember.” He drew breath and recited:
    Thrice the fullness of Prydwen we went with Arthur,
Except seven, none returned from—
    He stopped abruptly, at her gesture. They stood so a moment. The sun sank into the sea. With the dark, a finger of wind arose. Brendel, watching, only half understanding, felt a nameless sorrow come over him as the light faded.
    In the shadows, Jennifer’s face seemed to grow colder, more austere. She said, “You were there. So you knew the way. Did you sail with Amairgen?”
    Flidais flinched, as from an actual blow. He drew a shaken breath, and he, who was half a god and could induce the powers of Pendaran to accede to his will, said in a voice of humble supplication, “I have never been a coward, Lady, in any guise. I sailed to that accursed place once, in another form. But this is my truestshape, and this Wood my true home in this first world of all. How should a forest warden go to sea, Lady? What good would I have done? I told him, I told Amairgen what I knew—that he would have to sail north into a north wind—and he said he would know where to do so, and when. I did that, Lady, and the Weaver knows that the andain seldom do so much for men.”
    He fell silent. Her regard was unresponsive, remote. Then suddenly she said:
    I will not allow praise to the men with trailing shields,
They know not on what day the chief arose,
When we went with Arthur of mournful memory—
    “
I wrote that!
” Flidais protested. “My lady Guinevere, I wrote that.”
    It was quite dark