Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(202)

They set out from Castell Mallwyd on their shaggy ponies, racing down a rocky, uneven path that led from the heights of Colvyn’s castle down to the valley below. It was a small road that led southwest from Mallwyd, through a narrow valley until they came to the crossroads. The road to the left went on to Nether Castle while the road to the right went on to Machynlleth. As the rain poured and the dark night grew darker, they dismounted their ponies and hid them in a small vale near the crossroads, as they wanted to make their approach to the castle on foot. There was less chance of them being seen that way. It was another two miles to Nether from the crossroads.

So they ran through the night, soaked to the bone by the cold Welsh storm, sliding on wet grass and passing near fields where wet sheep were huddled up for warmth. There were soldiers watching these sheep, Nether soldiers, so Gryffyn had warned Colvyn’s men to stay clear of those fields because the soldiers would launch their crossbows at them for fear they had come to steal the sheep. Colvyn’s men obeyed for the most part, sliding by the fields and staying low against the mossy stone walls to avoid detection.

Nether soon became evident, high upon the crest of a hill that divided two great valleys. As Colvyn and Gryffyn drew near, Gryffyn called a halt and the men gathered. Coughing, wet, and uncomfortable, they tried to hear Gryffyn’s voice over the driving rain.

“When it rains heavily like this, the Gorge of the Dead fills with water,” he said to those who could hear him. “It is possible that the gorge will fill up past the hidden entry in the rocks and if that is the case, we will have to swim underwater to get into the passage.

The men looked at each other, thinking a swampy moat to be less than pleasant. “You never said anything about swimming in the moat,” one man said loudly. “We will be drowned!”

Gryffyn shook his head. “It will not be deep enough for you to drown,” he assured them. “In fact, it will work to our advantage. As you make your way to the postern gate, stay low in the water and the sentries will have a difficult time seeing you. The path to the postern gate is clearly marked so you will have no trouble locating it. Once the gate has been opened, you will go directly to the keep. If we can take the keep, we can take the castle.”

It seemed like a sound plan and the men settled down somewhat. Gryffyn turned to Colvyn. “We will take ten men with us to breach the passageway,” he said. “That should be all we need. We shall kill anyone in the kitchen and remain there, hiding, and send a man out to unlock the postern gate. I would do it myself but for the fact that if I am seen, I might be recognized.”

Colvyn eyed him. Is it another trick to keep himself out of danger? “I will go unlock the gate,” Colvyn said. “I have been to Nether and know where the gate is.”

Gryffyn was satisfied with that. The more he remained out of sight, the better. Waving an arm at the men, he motioned for them to follow his lead, across the rocky hillside, camouflaged by the wet gray rocks, before reaching the eastern side of the keep where the battlements had a blind spot because of the height of the parapet. Gryffyn took the lead, sliding down the side of the hill and stalking his way over to the Gorge of the Dead.

Fortunately, there was only about three feet of water in the bottom of the gorge but it was filling quickly. It was terribly dark as they began to climb down the rocks into the moat but for a brief flash of lightning off to the north that illuminated the land for a split second. To a sharp sentry upon the wall walk of Nether, however, it was enough of a flash of light for him to catch sight of dozens of Welshmen entering the Gorge of the Dead.

He went on the run for William.

*

The worst part of an ambush was the wait.

Keller and Gart had been in the kitchen since leaving Chrystobel in the keep, and that had been almost twelve hours ago. The sun had set and the kitchen was now dark but for a small fire in the hearth, and Keller had remained fixed by the hidden door that concealed the passage that led down into the gorge, waiting patiently. On the other side of the hidden door, Gart leaned against the wall, still and silent. He had, however, been yawning for the past hour, the only sign that the man was actually alive and breathing. Other than that, there had been no conversation and little movement. The knights, as well as twenty soldiers, were crowded into the dark kitchen in utter and complete silence.

It was a waiting game. All day, Keller had been wracked with doubt. What if he had been wrong? What if Gryffyn hadn’t written that message, the one that Chrystobel had been positive that contained her brother’s handwriting? What if this had all been a horrible miscalculation and now here they were waiting on the receiving end of nothing. No Gryffyn, no Welsh, merely Keller and Gart, wasting their time. Keller could only pray it wasn’t true and that indeed he would be looking into Gryffyn d’Einen’s face soon. He had to rid his life of this evil that threatened everything he loved.

A day of uncertainty turned into an evening of the same. Time passed with painful slowness. More waiting, and more silence. But that silence came to an abrupt end when William showed up in the kitchen a few hours after sunset. Having run all the way from the battlements, he was understandably winded.

“The Welsh have been spotted, Keller,” he hissed. “As of two minutes ago, they were descending into the gorge from the northeast. Be ready!”

Keller perked up, as did Gart. The yawning stopped. What they were waiting for was actually coming to pass and the smell of a battle instantly filled the air. They fed off it, bolstering their courage for what was to come. All of Keller’s doubts fled as he realized his instincts had been correct. Gryffyn was approaching!