The companions stumbled out into a clearing hidden away amongst tall oak trees. Iola pressed a hand over her eyes, soothing them from the sting of mid-day sunlight. She did not immediately recognize her surroundings. Looking up, she could see the snow capped Eagle Mountains, though from a completely different direction.
'How long were we gone for?' she asked, turning around.
'Impossible to say,' Rhys replied, tripping forward. Melynwyn nickered behind him, using her nose to shove him forward.
'Perhaps no time has passed at all,' Matilda suggested. Looking around her. 'Was in not late morning when we happened into the market?'
'It's all very odd,' Owain said, and brushed the front of his tunic to dislodge some twigs and dirt. 'Matilda, where did you get those boots?'
Matilda spluttered as she searched for the words. The companions all turned to stare at her freshly shod feet.
'Well, a girl cannot be expected to go tramping about Prydain without proper footwear!' she exclaimed.
Rhys just shook his head as he readied the horses. 'Yes, well, I'm not sure selling your soul was the right thing to do either.'
Iola gasped and Gareth frowned. Owain only looked intrigued.
Matilda stamped her foot. The boot left no imprint in the forest floor. 'A bit of breath is not the same thing as a full soul,' she protested. 'Besides, what would you know about magic? Your mother gave hers up before you were born.'
'I know enough to know when you've been lying.' Rhys bright blue eyes glittered like hard jewels. A heavy silence fell over the group at his accusation.
Matilda drew back, her mouth open, frantically trying to find an explanation.
'Tilly, what is Rhys talking about?' Iola implored. Her voice was strained, her breathing shallow.
'Admit it,' Rhys said, stepping forward. 'I saw the look in your face when those men were talking.'
Tears welled in Matilda's eyes. 'I- I… I wasn't trying to cause any harm. I just-'
'What did they say?' Rhys demanded. She'd never seen him this angry with her before. She wasn't sure what had brought it on.
The companions stared at her expectantly. She swallowed, her gaze falling. 'They said they would take me back to my father's kingdom. That he was waiting for me there.'
'And that his men have invaded Prydain, searching for the sword?' the Prince added.
'No, nothing like that!' Matilda hurried to offer an explanation. 'You must know I've never seen those men in my life! They have accents that make it difficult for me to understand-'
'Difficult to understand? It looks to me like you've understood them well enough.'
'Rhys,' Iola implored, stepping forward. 'Enough, can't you see-'
'Oh I can't believe you!' Matilda shrieked. 'All of you. You're all spoiled and abominably rude. I can no longer abide your company!'
Before she stalked off into the forest, she turned to add: 'Of course, Gareth, I have to excuse you from that.'
Before the guardsman could reply, Matilda disappeared into a thicket, the brambles thwacking around her. She was loud in the forest, the sound of her footfalls breaking branches and twigs.
With a cough, Iola stepped forward to go after her.
'Leave her for a moment,' Rhys said, staying his sister with a hand on her shoulder.
'What a rich thing for you to say!' she said, her cheeks growing red. 'We can't just leave her out there. She'll get lost!'
'Maybe she's gone off to join her kinsmen,' Rhys muttered.
'That's not true,' Iola said. 'You know that's not true.'
'Why else would she want with a pair of magic boots?' Rhys threw his arm in the direction of the thicket. 'What is she playing at?'
'You've known Matilda almost your whole life,' Iola said. 'Her slippers were falling off her feet. She needed new footwear. That's all there is Rhys.'
His eyes narrowed at Iola. 'She lied to us. She lied to all of us.'
'Oh!' Iola shoved him hard in the chest. 'Come off it now! Her father said he would extend the ransom for another two years! There is war and famine in her own country, too much to guarantee her safe return! Those men aren't after her.'
Rhys waved her off. 'Believe what you want. We've tarried too long here. You should follow Matilda back to Caer Dathyl.'
Rhys knew he was in trouble when Iola's cheeks flushed a deep red. Her blue eyes flashed in anger and she stuck a finger in his chest. He backed up, wondering if she were fixing to have a go at him, like she used to do when they were children.
'Listen here, you-'
They had been too distracted to see the horsemen surrounding them.
'Ho, there!' A scruffy man with a bow had an arrow knocked and aimed directly at Iola. Rhys stepped in front of her.
'Who are you?' Rhys asked through gritted teeth. His nerves were strung so tightly they might have snapped.
'No friend to you, that's fairly certain.' The words were spoken by a tall, burly man atop a piebald mare.
The companions were forced into a tight circle as the men crowded them in. 'The name's Dafydd. This is my company. We are mercenaries. Your little group is rather unlucky.'
Gareth and Owain had also drawn their blades. Melynwyn stamped a foot and swished her tail. Rhys made a move to grab her reins, but was stopped by the sound of a bow string being pulled. The smooth, prickly feeling of a knife point at his neck made his entire body freeze.
He cursed terribly under his breath.
'Did you know that there's a gaggle of foreigners looking for you? They're well settled with gold.'
'You'd betray your own countrymen for so little?' Gareth questioned.
Dafydd laughed heartily, crooked teeth beamed at them. 'The only loyalty I have is to myself, son. Now then, stand still while we tie you. Or I'll fillet her,' the man said, pointing to Iola, 'and then the little lad next.'
At that Owain surged forward, but he was stopped by a thick arm, squeezing around his neck. He wheezed, clawing at it.
Rhys' stomach plunged. 'All right,' he said. 'We will cooperate.'
'Glad to hear it, son.' Dafydd snapped his fingers and a few of the bowmen lowered their weapons. He felt his arms being jerked around, the burn of a rope being twisted around his wrists.
He silently prayed Matilda had strayed far enough away to be safe.
Matilda watched the entire scene unfold from behind a tree. She quivered, peeking her head out from behind the massive, gnarled trunk to watch her companions be bound with ropes and gagged with long strips of fabric.
Then, they marched off with the horses in tow.
'Damn and blast,' she muttered to herself. As far as she knew, Rhys was still the one wearing the Wayfinder. The mercenaries had not searched him for it.
She shuffled along the forest floor, following behind them as fast as she could. When they paused to water the horses, Matilda crouched behind thick green brush, praying she wouldn't be seen.
When she felt hot breath on the nape of her neck, she jumped in the air, disturbing a mourning dove. The bird flapped into the air and caused a few of the men to look in her direction. When their faces turned back toward the mountain, Matilda turned over only to have a long, rough tongue lick up the the side of her face.
It was Gareth's trusty old hound, Gelert.
The dog whined, elated to see one of the companions.
'Hush!' Matilda pleaded, patting his head. 'You must be quiet! We could be found!'
Gelert simply cocked his head and resumed panting happily. Despite her worry, Matilda was happy to not be alone in the pursuit anymore, even if her companion was a dog. Eventually, the sun began to sink behind the mountains and the forest was washed in darkness. It was then the mercenaries decided to make camp.
Matilda watched as they deposited the companions in one corner, then hitched their horses to the low hanging branches of an obliging tree. The night had grown cold, and there was much talk of whether to build a fire while Matilda shivered near by.
'Oh go on then,' said Dafydd with a wave. 'There's nothing out here that might challenge us that we couldn't best in a fight.'
Matilda wrung her clammy hands together and waited. The men cooked up something to eat, and though it didn't look particularly appealing, Matilda's stomach rumbled. She pressed a hand over her middle, suddenly afraid one of the men might hear it. But none of them moved.
Matilda glanced over to her companions. They looked well enough, though she saw Gareth eyeing the pottage with a hungry gaze. Rhys looked fit to be tied, while Owain was quietly resigned to his fate. Iola's face was turned from the fire.
After the meal the men argued about who would take first watch. They all went to sleep except two; a tall, fat fellow whose eyes were already half shut and a wiry archer.
Holding her breath, Matilda began walking toward the hitched horses. Gelert followed behind her.
'Oy! Did ye hear something?' The archer asked, turning in Matilda's direction.
She froze, her body shaking. She clapped a hand over her mouth. She scampered forward as the archer came toward her and the hound. She leapt into shadow, holding up her hand to keep the dog from following her.
The archer scanned the ground where she'd just been, squinting his eyes.
'What's there then?' His partner asked with a loud belch.
'Nothing,' the archer answered.
'Been seeing foxes about. And deer.'
The archer went back to his post to argue with the fat sentinel about whether he'd actually seen any deer or foxes on the day's trek. Matilda blew out a breath and stepped toward the horses. With shaking hands, she let them off their hitching ties. It was late and the mounts simply swished their tails at her, lolling their heads. The only one to recognize her was Melynwyn, who nickered softly. Matilda rubbed the mare's nose, willing her to be quiet.
When she came around the other side of the tree, she stalked toward the companions.
'Don't move,' she whispered in Gareth's ear, reaching for his bonds.
With a curt nod, he waited until she undid the knots at the backs of his hands to reach forward and free his feet. Next, though she was still smarting from his acerbic words earlier, she moved on to Rhys.
'Hurry,' he commanded under his breath once she removed the gag. The two mercenaries were still arguing.
'These are too tangled,' Matilda said, a bubble of panic rising in her gut.
'I have a dagger, strapped to the inside of my thigh.'
'You're joking,' Matilda said.
She glanced over at Gareth, but he was helping Owain with his own bonds.
'Reach in through my trousers,' he said.
Matilda gulped. Rhys whipped his head around. 'Stop simpering like a milk maid!' he hissed.
'If you tell anyone about this,' she said, moving her hand under the waistband of his leggings, 'I will deny it to my last breath.'
'There, on the outside.' Rhys has pressed his back up against her front, pushing them further into the shadows. The mercenaries were laughing about something now, the nasal braying making Matilda falter. She brushed the inside of his thigh. His muscle tensed.
'Here!' she said triumphantly, pulling the dagger from its sheath.
'Good, now remove it very, very carefully.' Rhys' voice was calm, but his body was shaking. Matilda gripped the hilt, breathing out a sigh of relief when she finally freed it.
She suppressed a whoop as she cut easily through the bonds at his hands and then his feet.
'Hey, you there!'
Rhys and Matilda snapped their heads up to see the archer striding toward them. Then there was a loud whistle from Gareth and Gelert came bounding into the camp, barking loud enough to wake the dead. Everything erupted into the chaos.
Pulling the dagger from Matilda's hand, Rhys ran forward to grapple with the archer. A horse whinnied loudly, jumping over the fire pit and trampling one of the mercenaries, who was tangled in a sleeping roll. Gareth kicked a bottle of something into the fire pit and a few flames roared up. Some of the men yelped.
Ducking, Matilda went to Iola, who was just getting up from the ground.
'Quickly now,' she said, hoisting her friend to stand.
Iola almost crumpled like a flower in a rough gale. Matilda wrapped her arm around her shoulders and dragged her toward the horses. Melynwyn shook her mane as she approached.
'Steady girl,' Matilda hummed.
Iola was in a bad way. She was wheezing for breath and her forehead was wicked in sweat.
'We'll get you home,' Matilda promised.
As she spoke the words, she felt someone dragging her by her braid back toward the camp. She screamed.
It was all flashes before firelight. Rhys had somehow gotten his hands on a sword and was hacking it mercilessly through the air. Matilda's attacker fell to the ground.
'Go!' He shouted, shoving her forward.
Matilda lunged toward Melynwyn. Iola groaned, her torso leaning across the mare's grey neck. Somehow, she'd scrambled on. Gripping onto the saddle, Matilda pulled herself up and urged the mare onward, praying she would listen.
Rhys had stolen Dafydd's piebald mount, and was kicking the horse toward them, Gelert barking along with him. He swung the sword through the air, gripping the reins with his other hand, fending off a man who was trying to pull him down. He shouted when he finally broke free. Craning her neck around, Matilda's heart squeezed as she saw Gareth riding his roan, and Owain hanging on to Melynlas.
She was not sure how long the horses galloped. The night was black, the moon hidden behind the peaks of the mountain. Branches lashed at her face. Melynwyn pinned her ears to the side of her head.
Eventually, they all slowed.
Rhys jumped off the gelding. 'Are we all here?' His breathing was rapid, unsteady. 'Are we all accounted for?'
Iola groaned again. Matilda tore off a length of her tunic, soaking it in a water skin from Melynwyn's saddle bags. She pressed the cool cloth to Iola's forehead.
'She's not well,' she said. 'We need to get back to Caer Dathyl.'
Rhys came to stand beside Matilda, putting his hand on his sister's forehead. Even in the thin moonlight, Matilda could tell his face was drawn.
'Right,' he stared up at the night sky.
'I think it would be this way,' Gareth interjected, pointing at a constellation. To Matilda's eye it all looked like a cluster of stars. 'We could be there in a day's ride, if the mare is up for it.'
Melynwyn tossed her mane, as if she were offended by Gareth's assessment.
Rhys threw him the reins. 'Go,' he told him. 'Don't stop unless you have to.'
There was something strange about the prince. Matilda blinked her eyes, as she watched a light from beneath his tunic growing stronger and stronger. It was a bright, clear light. Like the sun emerging from parted clouds.
'Rhys,' she breathed, reaching forward. 'Rhys, your tunic.'
He looked down and shrank back, pulling out the Wayfinder. It nearly illuminated the forest from its brilliance. The companions all shielded their eyes from it. Eventually the light dimmed a little, to the point where Rhys gripped the talisman in his hand and looked at it more closely.
'Llyr,' he murmured. 'It's leading us to the sword.'
