Page 56 of The Shadow Path
“That’s Lud’s Hill.” Duncan raised his voice as they walked off the coracle, trying to compete with the pounding drummers that weaved through the milling crowds. “It’s the center of ancient Anglia. The first of Harold’s ancestors is buried beneath it. According to Shadowlands history?—”
“Lud,” Carys said. “King Lud, right? He was a pre-Roman British king.” She frowned. “That’s wild that they have the same history here.”
“There’s some debate,” Duncan said. “No one is sure if Lud was real or a myth, but for tradition’s sake,that’sLud’s throne, so that’s where Harold will sit to officially take power.”
It appeared to be built for a giant. According to what Dafydd had told her, it was made of sarsen stone and etched with Anglian history and the names of the kings and queens who had ruled the south of Briton for over a thousand years.
Carys wished she could see the etchings better, but the closest they were going to get in this gathering was about halfway up the hill where she could see Cymric banners waving in the torchlight. A royal box for the nêr ddraig was elevated from the crowd and guarded by Cymric soldiers with bright green uniforms.
Nêrys, you have arrived.
“I just heard Cadell.” She spun around, looking for the dragon. “He’s here.”
We just landed.She spoke to the dragon in her mind as they crossed from the meadow into the maelstrom.Duncan is with us, and we’re headed to Dafydd’s box.
Be careful. There are many fae here, many wolves, and a large gathering of trolls. There might be fighting with a crowd this size.
“Cadell is worried about fights,” Carys said. “Duncan?”
“Uh…” He shook his head. “With this many people—no matter what world you’re in—it’s a possibility.”
“This is crazy.” Laura stood on her tiptoes to scan the mass of people that was flooding the riverbank. There were boats packed with folk who had gathered on the river, and fae lights danced in blue and purple overhead. “I’ve never seen this many magical creatures and people anywhere in the Shadowlands before.”
“London is massive in both worlds,” Duncan said. “I’m sure American cities are the same.”
“Yeah, that’s probably why I avoid them,” Laura said.
“Carys, keep your arm in mine.” Duncan held it out and locked her forearm against his side. “This crowd is something else.” He held out his left arm. “Laura, you too.”
“Gladly.” Laura locked her arm with Duncan’s and kept her eyes on the ground as they trudged up the earthen hill that was already churned and muddy from so many feet.
For this ceremony, Cadell would not be there to escort them unless something went very wrong. He and all the Cymric dragons save Mared waited like towering sentinels in the meadow west of the hill, guarding the ceremony with their presence.
On the eastern side, Carys saw a line of blood-red balauri positioned in much the same way. To the south, lines of red-coated guards dominated the field, the wide bridge, and the riverbank where it appeared that every Londoner in the Shadowlands had gathered to watch Harold climb from a barge on the Tamis River to Lud’s Hill, where he would sit on the same throne his father and grandmother had when they’d claimed the seat of power on their own coronation nights.
To the north and beyond Lud’s Hill, more soldiers had gathered, dressed in blue and silver, and in their midst, she saw moving figures that glowed with ethereal light as a largecompany of unicorns joined the Alban troops to guard the northern border of the ceremonial hill.
“Wow.”
Carys didn’t miss the ceremonial touches. Alban troops guarding the north, Cymric dragons guarding the west, Anglian troops in the south, and red balauri guarding the east and the skies nearest to Continental Europe.
But if the Queens’ Pact ruled all of Briton, what had the Éiren nation provided as part of the ceremony? Their absence was noticeable.
“Orla and Cian are here?” Carys looked at the other royal boxes, but they were in the distance and it was hard to see who was in them.
“I’m sure they are,” Duncan said. “Somewhere.”
“Okay, this is crazy.” Laura’s voice rose over the pounding drums that grew louder as they approached the hill. “But also amazing.”
As they approached Lud’s Hill, Carys looked at the wooden platforms erected for royal guests, visiting dignitaries, and Anglian nobles. She was searching for the Éiren contingent, but she saw no sign of Orla and Cian.
She tugged Duncan’s arm.
“Aye, lass? If you have a question, I’m as lost as you are. I know this hill is where Saint Paul’s Cathedral is located in the Brightlands, but I have no idea?—”
“Where is the Éiren box?” She scanned the crowd. “And their defenses. I see Alban unicorns mixed with Lachlan’s soldiers, and Cymric dragons buttressing Dafydd’s troops, but surely the Éirens and the fae are here too. As the fourth kingdom in the Queens’ Pact, wouldn’t they… I don’t know, contribute?”
“Cian and Orla are there.” Duncan pointed at a large group of brightly dressed fae on the eastern side of the hill. “Mixing among the fae. But they won’t have brought any soldiers.”
