Chapter 31 [North Road—Camelot/Gedref Border]
Dynwald sat beside a fire. Venison roasted over the flames on a make shift skewer. His massive hands bunched the wool about his shoulders. White puffs escaped his chapped lips. I do not know what to expect! I wish I knew what happened! His eyes scanned the landscape.
Questions batted about his mind. Still Memory retained nothing of the previous night's events. Bloody Mercians! Their witch did something to me. I know she did! He spat on the yellowed grasses to his left. Disgust soured Mood. Bile burned at his stomach and throat. He checked the deer's corpse. That deer skin and fur will make a nice sleep roll! Satisfaction lightened his dark mood in that regard.
Hoofbeats pounded up the path.
It would figure! Right before I eat! He stalked back over to the fire. His dinner had a perfect char. Better! His teeth ripped away a piece. He watched up the path.
Two armored men in brown surcoats pulled up on their horses' reins. They had followed Dynwald's fire's smoke for the previous league or so. Disdain for the Cawdorian's commander's apparent carelessness narrowed their eyes. Their boots crunched over the yellowed grasses. Cenred's orders spelled out not killing the idiot.
Still sending up smoke signals might merit Exception's loophole….
Dynwald bit into his venison again. He chewed and swallowed the piece. "You hungry? I just took down this stag."
"King Cenred is on the march. He and the Lady Morgause will be here within a day. Our forces press behind them. You sit here and eat?" One of the knights spat on the ground.
"I have to eat. Camelot's too occupied with its own problems." Dynwald scowled. "Don't you talk down to me! Uther and his prime patrol are dead! Does your King not have his first knight in the dungeon? My King Meleagant marches too. I am here on his business! I remember that. He would not deny me a meal while I wait!"
The other Mercian shook his head at the first Mercian. "So he accepted King Cenred's offer?"
"Aye! He accepted the offer." Dynwald frowned. Sarcasm cut through his tone. He brought out Meleagant's letter. "That is for your King Cenred and his eyes alone. Got it?"
"Aye, Cawdorian. Make sure you do too." The First Mercian snorted. His enormous hand snatched the letter from Dynwald. "Come on, Ralstaed."
Ralstaed shook his head. Dynwald's attitude grated on his nerves. He turned and took a step toward the horses.
Dynwald held his dagger out. "You'd best hope we don't meet again, Boys. I'll teach you." Menace and Challenge glared at the two knights.
Ralstaed stopped in his tracks. "Is that a challenge, Old Man?"
Dynwald smiled. He put his dagger back in its sheath. His new sword slid from its experienced sheath. He held it up. "At least I will not cut myself shaving with it." Challenge flipped the blade in front of him. "Come on now! You want this! I need the exercise!"
"Ralstaed! King Cenred said…."
"Dunstan! This cur has it coming to him. Smug Cawdorian pig!" Ralstaed held his sword overhead. He advanced toward Dynwald with slow movements. His boots crunched over dead grass. His eyes met his adversary's. Rage blazed. Experience and Challenge met their advance and returned its own regard.
Dynwald waved him closer. Disdain motioned his fingers in that way. His lips curled tighter than Snake's Coils. "My meal's burning, Boy. Come on now! You want my head! Here I am!"
"Ralstaed! Come! We do not need…!" Dunstan yelled.
"He chose his fate, Sir Dunstan. Let him learn." Dynwald touched Ralstaed's blade. "There! I made the first touch." His blade swished through the air. Point scratched Ralstaed's neck. Satisfaction's smirk spread further. "First blood! You did cut yourself shaving after all!"
Ralstaed ground his teeth. He went to raise his sword again.
Dynwald drove his sword through Ralstaed's chest. Boredom shook his head. "All too easy!" He twisted the blade to make sure of the mortal wound. "Pity, Boy! You don't know your betters!" He kicked the other to the ground. He wiped the blood on the grass rather than the dead knight. He squinted at Dunstan. "Take this fool back to Cenred. You tell him he challenged me."
Dunstan stewed over his friend's corpse. Lament's sigh passed through his lips. "I will. I did try to stop him."
Dynwald coughed. He ripped another piece from the venison skewer. "That is why you leave unscathed, Dunstan. Unlike him, you and I have our orders." Darkness akin to Storm's arrival darkened his face. "But know that you Mercians have cost me a great deal with my Lord Meleagant. Your King's raid exposed me to his wrath. I respect Meleagant's will." He cut another piece of meat from the stag and rammed it onto a second branch. "It's clean."
"I cannot eat your food. I have to see to my friend." Dunstan dragged Ralstaed's corpse to the latter's horse. He hefted the body over the saddle. Then he led the horse over to his own. He mounted the second horse. With a last look toward Dynwald, he galloped back toward the north.
Dynwald coughed. "Sir Dunstan, you have steel in your veins." He inspected his own sword's blade once again. Then he slid it back into his sheath.
Dinner needed to be finished. Then he could return for Nemethian spoils of his own.
Priorities set one's course after all…