The Ways of Winter Read online

  George ventured, “Wasn’t the way that trapped Rhys ab Edern years ago an opening slipped in front of a normal way’s opening? Maybe this is what it looks like. Madog’s signature?”

  “Where would it lead?” Ceridwen said.

  “Nowhere good,” Gwyn said. “We never saw Rhian’s parents again.”

  George saw Rhian struggling not to react to this impersonal discussion of the death of her parents when she was a very young child.

  “Could we just shut it down?” Gwyn asked. “Could George enter the Edgewood Way as the messenger did and kill the intrusive way, if that’s what it is?”

  George said, uneasily. “I don’t know much about ways yet, but something tells me that collapsing one way while standing inside another might be a very bad idea.”

  Ceridwen nodded, and then Gwyn joined her, reluctantly.

  “What are our choices for finding out what’s happened at Edgewood?” Gwyn said.

  Idris said, “We can send someone overland. But it’s a long distance and would take several days, and you know we’ve had no success getting them back.”

  “What about the Archer’s Way?” George said.

  Cadugan spoke for the first time. “What is this Archer’s Way that I’ve been hearing about?”

  “You know about the burning ground for our funerals, the Daear Llosg just north of the grounds?” Gwyn asked.

  “I’ve been told,” Cadugan said.

  “When we held the ceremony for my murdered huntsman Iolo a couple of months ago, a way was opened there and an ambush attempted by a mounted bowman. George interfered and chased him to the other side, and I followed to bring him back. It ends in a river meadow, and several of us assume, for many reasons, that it’s somewhere in Edgewood.”

  “How was the way made? Is it still open?”

  “We think it’s Madog’s work, and we don’t know how he does it. George, still untutored in the ways—our best expert, Rhodri, is with Rhys—came up with a novel method of sealing it that held against Madog’s attempts to reopen it later, and it’s still there.”

  “I have lots of questions, though,” George said. “If I unseal it, as I think I can, will it be open to us to use? And if it’s open at this end, what about the other end? If Madog built it and owns it, can I pass through it? Although I suppose I did it before, didn’t I.” He trailed off, puzzled.

  “This can be tested,” Idris said, pleased to find something practical to attempt. “We can bring an armed party through as a trial first. But if you do get to the other end, will you be able to tell if you’re at Edgewood?”

  “Maybe,” George said. “The last time I was there, up at the north end, I thought I detected something way down south, but I can’t know if it’s the same way. It must have been ten or fifteen miles away at least, I think, whatever it was.”

  “But still within the barrier?” Idris asked.

  “Yes, I think so. I can very dimly feel the barrier, and the nearer curves of it implied a loop that would be further yet.”

  “So, if this is the same way, you should be able to detect the Edgewood Way from its exit point, right?”

  “I presume so.”

  Ceridwen said, “Wouldn’t there need to be tokens? George doesn’t know how to do that.”

  “That wouldn’t work anyway, since Madog may still be the owner,” Gwyn said. “But I don’t think it matters, I think George might be able to take some of our men through directly, as a guide.”

  He told Idris. “Better not lose him, you might not be able to get back without him.”

  George gave an uneasy laugh and Angharad looked alarmed.

  “In fact,” Gwyn said, “I’ll go with you.”

  “Not all the way through, my lord,” Idris protested. “We don’t know where it goes.”

  “No, but I want to see the situation for myself.”

  Idris said, “So, it’s decided. We’ll send a small armed party to Daear Llosg and the Archer’s Way in the morning. George will try to unseal it, and then we’ll see what we can see. If we get through and if we’re sure it comes out in Edgewood, and if there’s no obvious hazard, then the travelers’ expedition will follow the next morning.”

  “Why not right away?” Cadugan asked.

  Thomas Kethin spoke up. “Because if George is right, it may be ten or fifteen further miles overland, and they’ll need to prepare for that and start early in the morning. They might have to camp out for at least one night. And if George is wrong, or we can’t get through the way at all, then there’s no sense stirring up the whole expedition just to send them back here again.”

  There were no more objections.

  Gwyn stood up, and the council rose with him. “Idris’s troop will depart immediately after breakfast, whatever the weather. Cadugan, please spread the word to the expedition leaders about our plans and coordinate with Ifor here about supplies and equipment.”

  Madog walked up the stone steps of his keep, out of the light of the flickering torches. A stumble on a dimly-lit step had him swearing, renewing an old vow. First thing I’ll do when I have Gwyn’s court in my control, I’ll take over their human trade and start bringing in oil lamps, like the ones he uses so profligately.

  And why stop there? Everyone says the short-lived have many conveniences, and I mean to have them all. That’s the one real problem with the beast, he’d never been able to convey the notion of the human world to it, as a destination. He’d have to wait and take over Gwyn’s ways instead.

  Scilti seemed pleased with his work. Madog thought it a waste of time to indulge in such bloody pleasures, and a weakness, but his desires made him easier to control so he permitted it. He’d gotten what he could from that ruin of a courier, ordinary news from Gwyn about new arrivals, lists of names and skills. Nothing useful.

  There was that odd report from the guards he’d posted at the end of the Trap Way. They said a stick just appeared, clattering down onto the stone. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe them, but he didn’t think they dared lie, not after that last example he’d made. The Edgewood Way passage isn’t very long, and neither is the Trap Way, he considered. I suppose the wind could blow something through if it caught it just right, though I’ve never seen it happen before.

  Too bad I can’t just shut the Edgewood Way altogether, but Gwyn’s ownership claim makes that impossible. Still, blocking it like this is almost as good and it has the benefit of catching whatever tries to get there. They may figure that out eventually, but what can they do about it? When traffic stops coming through, I’ll reverse the effect and start sucking them in from the other side. I’ll close it in both directions, first, and block the Edgewood Way completely.

  Let them stew for a while, and they’ll be all the more eager to use it when it mysteriously reopens again.

  Angharad walked through the huntsman’s house, turning down the lamps before joining George upstairs.

  I move here, she mused, shaking her head, and he goes… somewhere else. Well, it’s not his fault, and he’ll be back tomorrow night anyway. None of the scenarios they’d sketched out had him staying overnight, even if it was all successful and they reached the Edgewood territory.

  But then she’d lose him for the expedition on Tuesday for several days.

  The courier’s description of the trap at the end of the Edgewood Way made it only too clear that Madog was active again. Better then for everyone to come in via the Archer’s Way, if it worked, and stay out of his reach.

  No one said anything, but they’re all assuming that first courier is dead, and they’re probably right. Who’s been lost from the Edgewood end, I wonder.

  The house will be quiet once everyone’s gone. Just me and Alun.

  Her cat curled around her ankle. Well, and the cat and dogs, too. She smiled. Just like my home in the village.

  She’d taken over the bed linen duty from Alun for the master bedroom, and now she was glad of it. The sheets would still bear the scent of George for the few days
he’d be gone, to keep her company. The thought made her hasten to finish her task and head up.

  She paused in the hall, her foot on the first step. I do like the smell of this tree, the balsam rising into the air as it relaxes into the warmth of an artificial spring. It’s good that George wants to set a family tradition like this, to put a personal stake into this alien land, and I’m not too old to learn a new custom myself, for the sake of whatever children may come.

  A thought had occurred to her during the afternoon’s conversation with Ceridwen and Eluned. She’d decided to make small ornaments for the tree, as Gwyn had described to her once before. Let the family collection begin with that. I’ll show them to him when he returns, and he’ll be glad, one for each day.

  I should have included small carving tools when I packed, she thought, but Iolo’s workshop looks like it has most of what I’d need. Alun showed me what he had there, and it should do.

  I could make him something tomorrow, maybe, to take with him on Tuesday.

  And something for the mantle in the study. Maybe with oranges as a decoration. She smiled at the memory and hastened up the stairs.

  CHAPTER 7

  George looked around him again one last time at Daear Llosg. Idris and Thomas were behind him with a band of about twenty, well-armed and prepared for a stay of a few days if something should go wrong. Seems like overkill, but I guess there’s just no way of being sure, he thought.

  At his right hand stood Gwyn, both of them dismounted, their horses held by one of the guards staying behind with Gwyn.

  Before them was the end of the Archer’s Way that he’d sealed almost two months ago. He’d marked the location of the entrance by shuffling through the snow, to keep the riders away from something they couldn’t see.

  “You remember asking me if I could unseal it again at the time?” he said to Gwyn.

  Gwyn nodded.

  “Can you see what I do, a woven web holding it together?”

  “Yes, I see it.”

  “Well, there’s this sort of tab in the bottom right that I’m going to, um, pull on.”

  Gwyn said, “I don’t see that feature. It must be visible to you because you made it.”

  George shrugged and took a mental grip on the piece he’d described, and gave it a gentle tug. Slowly, like an unraveling sweater, the web began to pull apart. As the first strands worked loose, he felt a presence on the other side.

  “Watch out, there’s something there,” he called. He stumbled through the snow and pulled Gwyn out of the direct path while the seal continued to unweave, and the guards drew their swords. When the bottom seam gave way, a sleepy and irritated black bear rolled out, and some branches with her. She sat up and blinked, then offered them a half-hearted growl. The relieved laughter of the guards in reply intimidated her, and she rumbled to her feet and made for the woods upslope, scattering drifted snow behind her.

  Even the sober Gwyn chuckled. “Well, I guess that answers the question of whether the other end is still open,” George said.

  They retrieved their horses and mounted up.

  “You’ll be staying here, my lord, yes?” Idris said.

  “That’s my intent,” Gwyn said, patiently. Idris accepted the ambiguous reply with a skeptical glance but no comment.

  George and Idris entered the way side by side, and the troop followed in pairs. The passage was short, the featureless gray broken by the vegetation the bear had brought into her winter den and by drifted snow at the end. As they emerged, George stood off to the side to let the riders by.

  The way was obvious to him, and the marks in the snow of the riders starting seemingly from nowhere was a good enough indicator of its location for everyone else, for now.

  Idris rode up to him. “I want to send a rider back immediately to Gwyn, and then have him return here. Let’s see how open this way is.”

  He sent one guard back in, but the way was closed to him and he just passed through the spot.

  George joined him, and he tried again. This time they both rode through.

  He called to Gwyn, sitting his horse with the two remaining guards. “We’re reporting back, at Idris’s request. The way is just as we left it, with no one around. We’ve tested, and it looks like they can’t get through without me, which we thought might happen.”

  “Can you find the Edgewood Way?” Gwyn said.

  “Don’t know yet. We’re taking this in small steps. I’m headed back.”

  George turned his horse and brought the guard back with him to rejoin Idris.

  Idris had already deployed his men in a semicircle around the way in the otherwise unbroken snow of this river meadow and was standing by, waiting for them to return. George noted that even the bear had left no tracks. She must have been denned up there since before the last snowfall.

  “I’m going to see what I can find, now,” George said. “If Mosby will stand still for me, I’ll try to stay mounted. May take a few minutes.”

  Idris said, “I’ll wait until you’re done to send out scouts, in case they stir up something that interrupts you. Identifying the location is the highest priority.”

  George pulled out his brass compass from his vest pocket, where it was attached to the other end of his watch chain. On this overcast day it was difficult to see the sun to judge direction, and the Blue Ridge wasn’t visible from here.

  He found magnetic north and used that as his first search priority, still operating on the assumption that they were at the south end of Edgewood.

  He faced north and reached out to see what he could find. He was startled to feel something behind him first, a very long thin faint trace that ran from east to west, nearby, with a hint of a curve, as though it were the bottom of an oval, opening to the north. We must be close to the barrier, he thought.

  He turned his attention away from it and resumed his search. At the extreme distance, a bit blurred, there were two, no, three presences. One was a way, definitely, north and a little west, and then an odd sort of double impression straight north. He tried to focus more strongly on the latter, and thought, what if this were the Edgewood Way and some kind of trap way together? That made sense out of what he picked up.

  He opened his eyes to find Idris watching him intently. “What did you find?” he asked.

  “You understand I can’t be certain. But I think I’ve found the new way that appeared west of Edgewood Manor, and the Edgewood Way itself with some other sort of way tied to it. They’re at the limit of my range but I can’t judge distance well. I still think it’s ten or fifteen miles.”

  Idris turned as if to send out his scouts.

  “Wait,” George said. “I believe that barrier everyone talks about isn’t far away at all. I think we should take a look at it, don’t you?”

  Idris paused in thought. “Thomas,” he called. When Thomas Kethin came over, he continued, “I’m going to divide us into three groups. I want you to take three pairs of scouts and send them north, east, and west a little distance. We’re looking for roads and settlements. George thinks we’re in Edgewood so probably it’s safe enough, but don’t count on it. We’ll meet up again here in one hour.”

  Thomas nodded and rode off to select his men.

  Idris beckoned George. “Please go one more time, huntsman, and report to Gwyn this latest and warn him we’ll be an hour or more. When you come back, I’ll have a group ready to go with you to the barrier.”

  George popped back out through the way to update Gwyn. The relief at the news that this was almost certainly Edgewood was visible on his face, and he endorsed the investigation of the barrier.

  “We’ll wait for your return,” he said. “It will do us all good to take a little exercise with our horses in the snow here.”

  When George returned, he found that Idris had set a small group to hold the way’s exit point, and a larger one to follow George to the barrier.

  “So, which direction?” Idris said.

  George looked over the landscape an
d matched it to what he could feel, looking for the easiest route. “I think if we ride up out of this streamside flatland we can get out of the tangle of the vegetation more easily.”

  Idris gestured for him to take the lead. George picked his way carefully, the footing hidden by the snow, and ascended the meadow’s margin at a diagonal. At the top he found his guess had paid off. The ground was open, only sparsely interrupted by trees. There was no sign of habitation. He waited to make sure everyone had gotten up the slope without mishap, then walked off with Idris to the south.

  Before they had crossed as much as half a mile of this terrain, George brought them to a halt and dismounted, giving his reins to a guard.

  He walked through the snow about ten yards further. “There’s something here. It’s not strong and I get no sense of danger, but it’s a long, long line and extends further than I can see.” He gestured with his arms to try and mark the trace.

  He said to Idris, “Just because it doesn’t feel dangerous to me doesn’t mean I’m right. I felt something like this along the ridge line of the Blue Ridge one time out hunting, and one of my hounds came back hurt after crossing it.” But the two outsider hounds crossed and came back without any harm, he thought. How did they do that?

  Idris dismounted and made as if to join him but stopped partway. “I can feel something, and it’s not pleasant. We know that people cross the line, but we don’t know what happens when they do. All we know is they don’t come back.”

  One of his guards, young and grim-faced, rode up to Idris. “Sir, I lost my father to something like this, or at least I never got him back. Give me a rope and I’ll try crossing it to find out.”

  George protested, “You might never recover.”

  “I’ll take that chance. I want to know what happened to him.”

  “You’re not going to let him?” George asked Idris.

  “It’s Emrys’s choice, and a valuable one,” Idris said. He called for rope.

  With one end held by Idris and another guard, and the other tied around his waist, Emrys was ready to cross. George went with him step by step, but he halted well before the line, his face in a sweat.