Page 85 of Arise the Queen
Nothing about Locrinus would surprise her anymore.
“But I warrant you this,” Málik said. “Nothing Manannán ever did was done without forethought. If he gave Brutus the alloy, it was offered for a reason, and I would guess it has everything to do with you.”
Why?
So he could play his games with Gwendolyn?
The very thought left her belly sour. After all, it was her Fae father whose interference had created this strife. The alliance would never have come about were it not for that alloy, and if there was no alliance, the Rot would not have undermined Corineus’ rule. They would still have had their tin mines, and Cornwall’s fate would have been far better without the Loegrian alloy—but that was no longer here or there.
Once Gwendolyn had time to consider everything Málik had revealed, she summoned her Konsel to discuss options…
40
At sunset, they gathered about a small campfire, and Gwendolyn explained the request she’d made of Málik, as well as the potential consequences of using theFéthto conceal them—the most obvious being the expense of their magic and the loss of any advantage the Fae might have during the battle. Not that glorious orbs of fire would fly from their fingertips. Much to the contrary, despite their ability to summon Faerie flames, their magic was more subtle, lending itself more to strength and accuracy during battle. Without this, they were as vulnerable as any mortal.
“Let them save it for Locrinus,” suggested Caradoc. “We will have no need for Fae-born mists in the fenlands.”
They would travel through the northernmost reaches of Catuvellauni territory, he explained, and from there, straight into Iceni lands.
The hill fort Locrinus stole from him was far to the south, on the banks of the dark-flowing river for which he’d named his hill fort.
“If we keep to the coast, we will have no trouble from Loc’s men. The worst we might encounter are the Iceni themselves.”
He drew a map of the region, carving it deep into the sand, making his points, drawing the river that led to the Morimaru, the eastern sea.
“With no ships to guard, he’ll have no interest here.” He tapped his stick at the wide mouth of a river the Iceni had named Thama, a river flowing directly from Plowonida into the Morimaru. The Catuvellauni once held all territories from Plowonida to the coast, with the Iceni occupying the southern shores of the Wash—the wide mouth of the Thama, where it emptied into the Morimaru.
“Why didyounever build a fleet?” Gwendolyn asked, only curious.
“For the same reason the Iceni will not. The Morimaru is a dead sea,” he said. “Fishing is better within the river itself. That is why the Iceni hounded us eternally.”
He poked at the far northern corner of the isle and said, “Any merchant ships that traverse this sea will travel north to Skerrabra.”
He flicked Baugh, then Gwendolyn a glance. “Or to Cornwall. There are flint mines on our lands, but unlike the bounty from Cornwall’s wheals, there is no demand for what we can provide.”
He cast another pointed glance at Gwendolyn. “And then, to make matters worse, came the Trojans with their damnable alloy.”
Gwendolyn cast Málik a glance.
There was a tinge of bitterness to Caradoc’s tone, but Gwendolyn could not take offense. She understood well enough why the eastern tribes held Cornwall in contempt. The produce from their wheals was only one of many reasons—all things she intended to remedy once this battle was over. Whatever excess Cornwall produced, she would find some way to share it with these tribes. So long as she had breath, she would not allow this isle to succumb beneath another Red Tide.
“At any rate,” he continued. “Those flood tides will have begun already and will continue through Calan Mai. Loc’s lands will be boggy by now, and I warrant he has his hands full buttressing hisTroia Nova.” He spat the words with no small measure of disgust, for these lands were stolen from him and his people.
Gwendolyn once promised him a new name for Plowonida—Lundinion after his fallen son. She intended to fulfill this promise or die trying.
As Caradoc continued, he marked potential weaknesses in Locrinus’ stronghold, as well as the entrances to thefogouscarved beneath the hill fort itself—of which, despite the sodden ground, there appeared to be many.
With every line he etched into the sand, Gwendolyn could too easily imagine their troops moving into formation, the swings of their swords, the cries of war, and her heart ached for the blood still to be shed.
Every one of these soldiers was someone’s son.
Someone’s husband or wife.
Someone’s brother or sister.
Her gaze lifted to Málik, then to Bryn.
Bryn met her gaze and held it, the flame from the firelight casting a soft amber glow over his youthful features. But he was no longer that same boy she’d once followed about like a lost pup.
