The Silver Hand by Stephen Lawhead

supper.”
    We rose on tired legs to begin our journey through the wooded hills and boggy lowlands to the Cruin stronghold at Blár Cadlys. All that day we walked—with much backward glancing and many a pause to rest and to listen for the sound of pursuit. We reached the grassy banks of a secluded stream as the sun slipped behind the hills.
    There, weary and footsore, we stopped for the night, drinking our fill from the stream, and then wrapping ourselves in our cloaks to rest and sleep in the long, winter-dry grass. I woke at dawn and roused Llew. We washed in the stream, and then continued on our way.
    Four days we journeyed thus, sleeping at night beside a stream or pool and moving on at dawn. Four days on foot through dense wood and reeking bogland. It was too early for berries, and we could not stop to catch any game. But we kept starvation at bay with shoots and roots that I knew how to find; and we drank from fresh streams and pools.
    At the end of the last day, and the end of our strength, we came in sight of the Cruin settlement. Hungry beyond words, we stood at the edge of the surrounding wood and watched the silver smoke rising from the cooking fires within the caer. The scent of the smoke brought water to my mouth and a sharp pang to my empty stomach.
    Blár Cadlys is built atop a great oblong hill which guards the entrance to Ystrad Can Cefyl, the Vale of the White Horse, the principal route into the heart of Llogres. On the broad plains of the sprawling valley run the huge herds of horses which give rise to the Cruin boast: horsemen second to none. Indeed, the boast is not without a shade of truth.
    â€œDo you think they know what has happened to Meldryn Mawr?” Llew wondered.
    â€œNo, they could not know yet—unless . . .”
    â€œUnless Paladyr has preceded us?”
    He spoke my thoughts exactly. “Come, we will soon discover what they know.”
    We stumbled from the wood and staggered up to the caer—but slowly so that they would have time to mark our approach. And they did. For as we set foot on the track leading to the gate, three warriors appeared at the breastwork of the gatehouse. The foremost of them called out us, commanding us to halt and declare ourselves.
    â€œI am Tegid Talaryant,” I shouted back to him, “Chief Bard to Meldryn Mawr of the Llwyddi. The man with me is champion to the king. We have matters to discuss with your lord.”
    The porter regarded us doubtfully, exchanged a brief word with his fellows, and then replied, “You claim to be men of esteem and honor, yet you come to us as beggars. Where are your horses? Where are your weapons? Why do you come to us ragged and on foot?”
    â€œAs to that,” I answered, “I deem it no man’s affair but my own. Yet it may be that Calbha will think it worth his while to welcome us as befits men of our rank and renown.”
    They laughed aloud at this, but I stopped them quickly enough. “Hear me now! Unless you take my message to your lord, I will declaim against you and against all your kinsmen.”
    That gave them something to think about.
    â€œDo you think they believed you?” asked Llew, as the three discussed my threat.
    â€œPerhaps not. But now we will see how far they trust their luck.”
    Apparently the Cruin guards were not in a wagering mood. For, after a short deliberation, one of the three disappeared and but a moment later the gate opened. Four warriors emerged from the caer and came forth to conduct us to the king’s hall. They did not speak, but motioned us to follow them.
    I had once been in Blár Cadlys with Ollathir, and found it little altered from the way I remembered it. Yet there were changes: grain stores increased in number, and two warriors’ houses now where there had been but one. Outside the artisans’ huts men worked at fashioning spear shafts; the cattle pens had been enlarged.
    As we neared the hall, one of the