Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER THIRTY ONE -

Hywergard stumbled through the murky light of the catacombs. The stale air smelt of rot. The Celt urged himself forwards, gagging from the stench and his own pain. At the end of a passage, weak light spilled out from a low opening in the far wall.

Stepping closer to the opening, the warrior heard voices. He had found Caelwyn! The other voice possessed a magical quality. It was melodic and bore a subtle harmony. The two were arguing. Feeling their tension building to a flashpoint, Hywergard quickened his shuffling pace.

"The Nudd is not for you to wield! Its power is not meant for mortals like us!"

"Speak for yourself, bard!"

"You shall not pass!"

"Move, or feel my wrath!"

Hywergard ducked under the low entrance way. The bard had his back to the warrior. Caelwyn stood facing them both. Hywergard saw a rage in the eyes of the druid. Even after the death of his sister his eyes had never been so black, seething and evil.

The bard's high voice cried out, "Never!"

His cry became a shriek. Hywergard hissed when he saw a long silver blade tear through the back of the bard's cloak. Dark blood dripped from its point. Mardifax looked down at the blade as his body went limp. Caelwyn smiled and withdrew the silver longsword from the bard.

As the body dropped, Caelwyn said, "Why don't you write a lyric about that?"

"No!" Hywergard screamed.

Caelwyn looked up. His eyes still held the dark rage his friend had seen before the impalement of the bard. The longsword was stained with blood, red streams trickling down towards the silver and sapphire jewelled hilt. Before this moment, the Druid had never felt or seen anything more beautiful. He was transfixed the mighty blade no mortal had held in centuries. He could feel its deep power. It wanted to be used. It wanted to summon the ocean. It wanted to draw the seas to itself. It was thirsty and the troublesome bard's blood had not satisfied it.

This weapon could give him the vengeance he sought and Camael had denied him. Rome's legions would finally suffer the way they deserved. With the magnificent deadly beauty of the Nudd in his hand, he could avenge the deaths of all the Celts.

Hywergard was calling out his name again. The look of shock on his friend's face dragged him from happy reverie and back to the reality of the moment. Damn him! The Druid knew his warrior friend wouldn't understand what must be done. With extreme reluctance, Caelwyn dragged his focus from the silver hand back to the cries of his friend. "What?!" He barked.

"You killed him!"

"He stood in my way. I moved him."

"You killed Mardifax! A bard!"

"How very observant."

"Cursed be the man who lifts his hand against a poet!"

"Who's the Druid here? Spare me a lecture on curses. You should worry about yourself, Hywergard. You're no Druid. Yet, you walk through our catacombs and crossed the threshold of the ghost fence protecting this chamber. You're cursed!"

Hywergard could not take his eyes off Mardifax. The childlike face of the man seemed even more peaceful and innocent in death than it had in life. The Celt had heard the bard sing many times before and had been moved by the magic of his voice, his stories. How could Caelwyn have destroyed such beauty without remorse? "I cannot be cursed." Hywergard said. "Camael sent me to find you. If I have his permission I'm safe."