Cymru - Chapter 43

AERONA

It hurt, her head increasingly agonising, and she was so tired. She couldn't see anymore, hadn't for a while - shapes flickered past occasionally, but they hurt her eyes, so she closed them. She couldn't hear Dylan anymore, either. She couldn't focus. She couldn't... the world was black...

She drifted, weightless and content.

It hurt, the pain getting stronger -

"You're alive!" Dylan's voice said brightly; but it still hurt too much, and she was tired, so she went back to sleep, letting herself drift. It was warm this time, and comfortable. She was content again.

The pain returned, a dull, throbbing agony that slowly grew -

"You're awake!" Dylan's voice trilled, and something small and white swam in front of her; she reached out for it, caught it -

She drifted, happy.

Coherence returned with the pain the third time, although it also hurt so much less Aerona wondered why she'd made such a fuss in the first place. She had a head ache. That was all.

"Right," Dylan said testily as her eyes flickered open. "Fall asleep again, chicken, and I'll thump you. Are you with us, now?"

"Yes?" Aerona suggested. Her voice cracked slightly.

"Excellent," Dylan said. "In that case: you're awake!"

She looked around, blinking at the sunlight. The last thing she remembered was Dylan talking about Trallwng, so she assumed this was it. The room she was in was a comfortingly minimalist Rider bedroom, though, so it could have been anywhere. She wondered what day it was.

"My head aches," Aerona said, starting to sit up, and suddenly Dylan was sitting on the bed beside her, both hands forcing her shoulders firmly back down to the mattress. She didn't bother to resist. "What? It's fine."

"Is not," Dylan declared. "You know when our boy Owain beat you about the head a few times?"

"Yes," Aerona winced sorrowfully, taking a mental inventory. The rest of her seemed fine, actually; her neck and ribs were stinging slightly, and she had the head ache, but otherwise she seemed intact. And -

Oh. There was a thick bandage around her head. That wasn't normal for concussions. Dylan's fingers caught her beads and twirled them subconsciously. He'd been worried, clearly.

"Well," he said theatrically. "He hit an important bit! So then there was fluid building up between your brain and skull, so the druids had to drill in to relieve the pressure, and then they took all night chanting and that to get you to this point. They said you'd be fine if you woke up. And then you woke up three times, so you'll probably have some sort of super recovery."

"I don't think it works like that," Aerona started, giggling, and then broke off wincing. "Ow. Laughing hurts."

"That's what Madog says. I think it's his excuse for never doing it."

"How long's it been?" Aerona asked, grinning. Dylan stretched, his eyes scanning the wall above her head.

"Just last night," he said indifferently. He looked tired. "Now they're sorting out Owain's head injury under Adara's watchful eye, and then once he's sorted we're going back to the Union to join in the wild parties they're no doubt having without us. Oh, and we've sent a carriage to fetch Breguswid and her little Saxon friends, and we put Eanfled the mystic daughter in it, although I don't think she's as mystic as all that, you know."

"Why's she mystic?" Aerona asked, trying not to giggle. Dylan clicked his fingers theatrically.

"Oh yeah," he said. "That was during the Concussion Era. Never mind."

"Hang on," Aerona said, her brain catching up with her. "You said - you said the druids are only looking at Owain now?"

"He wasn't as badly injured as you," Dylan said easily. "So we -"

"But he's important!" Aerona said, horrified. "We need him! What if -?"

"You're more important," Dylan interrupted, his voice hard. His eyes whipped around to hers, fixing on and holding, his demeanour suddenly that of a commander on a battlefield. "I wasn't losing you for the sake of that colossal bell-end. And anyway, as I was just saying - your injuries were worse than his. You needed help more."

"Have you slept?" Aerona asked, noting the dark circles below his eyes. Dylan sighed, and looked up at the ceiling.

"No, Aerona," he said. "I haven't. You nearly died, actually, you loser."

He really had been worried, then. It was probably a Deputy thing, Aerona supposed sadly; he'd been in charge and nearly lost someone. Poor Dylan. She reached up and caught one set of white beads resting on his collarbone, and he closed his fingers gently around hers.

"You should sleep," she said softly, and he smiled his crooked smile at her.

"Can't," he said diffidently. "You're in the way. And anyway, our boy Owain will be done cooking soon, I should think."

"Is Adara okay?" Aerona asked tiredly. Dylan snorted.

"Yeah," he said. "We keep having to stop her from smacking our boy in the head, but otherwise she's chipper. How are you feeling, oh queen of invalids?"

"Exhausted," Aerona smiled. She pulled on the beads, dragging them steadily down to her chest. Dylan yelped, hurriedly following the movement.

"Hey!" he protested. "I'm allowed to hit you if I want! You're ruining my stern image!"

"I'm tired and so are you," Aerona mumbled cheerfully, pulling the beads to the side of the bed between her and the wall. Dylan hastily climbed over her, cursing and trying not to lean on her. "They can wake us up once they're done."

"This is mutiny, you know," Dylan grumbled, settling down beside her and draping an arm carefully over her. Aerona snorted.

"Yes Dylan," she smiled, her eyes sliding closed. "And I'm certain you've never forced Madog to take care of himself. Hush now. Sleep."

Drifting off was even more peaceful this time, like wrapping up in a blanket, or lying in the sun. She woke up gently, the pain lessened again, fingers brushing softly over her forehead. It wasn't Dylan. She knew that, because one of his arms was resting on her stomach, the other hand beside her cheek and clenched around her beads. Aerona opened her eyes, and looked up.

"Hey hey," Adara smiled gently, her voice low. "How are you feeling, sickly one?"

"Better," Aerona said happily, taking another quick inventory. "Mostly just tired, now. I think I might sleep for a day or two when we get back."

"Hibernate," Adara suggested. "Like a hedgehog. Or a bear. Owain's done, tied on and ready to go, anyway. We're ready when you are."

She was still threading her fingers through Aerona's hair, the motion incredibly relaxing. Aerona smiled.

"I'm good, I suppose," she said. "What time is it?"

"About half eleven," Adara said, glancing at the window. "Good flying weather, too. Should we leave Dylan, though? He looks so peaceful and cute, which is ironic given that he normally looks like horror."

"I hate you, your face and your mam," Dylan said, his eyes still closed. "It's not my fault a psycho druid tried to blind me. I was perfectly polite to him."

"You've never been polite to anyone in your life, you deviant," Adara said, standing up and returning her voice to full volume. "And then you crushed his hand. Aerona said it was disgusting and everything, and she's reliable."

"It was," Aerona agreed earnestly. "But, in fairness, I should really insist that it was retribution for blinding Dylan, so it probably doesn't count."

"Wins," Dylan grinned. He sat up and scrubbed a hand through the tangled mass of curls, blinking. "Alright. Let's see how you go sitting up, petal."

"I can do that," Aerona said happily, lifting herself onto her elbows. Her head ached, a sharp throb a few inches above her left ear presumably where the drill had gone, but there was no dizziness or nausea. Dylan peered at her carefully.

"Let's test," he said. "How many eyes do I have?"

"Two," Aerona giggled. Adara leaned forward.

"Let's check her memory," she said brightly. "Give the same answer, Aerona: how many IQ points does he have?"

"Count in millions," Dylan said quickly, and smirked at Adara. "Ah! Good try, pickle."

"No, Dylan," Adara said serenly, shaking her head. "You're adding your Wing members' to your own, there."

"I'm up," Aerona interrupted with a grin, sitting up fully. She could feel the warmth of Dylan's hand against her back, not quite touching but there if she fell. "I'm fine. Can we go?"

"Oh, fine," Dylan said, rolling his eyes. "Gods, you nag. Let's go. Although, when your Wingleader arrives to beat me up for letting you fly in this condition I'm going to tell him it was Adara's fault."

"Hey, what?" Adara protested, unimpressed. "You're in charge, you weirdo! That means it's your responsibility, although I recognise that's an alien concept to you."

"Didn't think I'd miss Madog," Dylan muttered, hovering as Aerona got to her feet, looking around vaguely for her uniform. "And I still don't, I hasten to add, don't tell him otherwise."

They helped her dress, slightly unnecessarily Aerona felt, but it was pleasantly companionable and so she didn't complain. Once done they went up to the Landing Tower, Aerona looking around interestedly. She'd never been to Trallwng before. The Residence seemed perfectly lovely, anyway, although it was a shame she wouldn't get to see the City properly. Maybe she could bring the children on a trip. She'd have to look into it.

The Landing Tower was much like any in the Canolbarth, but instantly Aerona could see one big difference. Their merod had been cross-tied in the middle of the isle, a knot of grim-looking Riders and druids gathered around and moving about. Owain sat on one meraden, his head neatly bandaged, arms pulled and twisted behind his back into a position that looked just the wrong side of painful, held in place with a thick coil of rope. Currently he was leaning down to one side, his head held in place by a druid feeding him from a water bottle, watched by a square-jawed Rider whose collar proclaimed her to be the Beta Wingleader. Her smile on seeing Aerona was positively relieved, which was generous given that they'd never met.

"Rider!" she smiled, Saluting them. Aerona Saluted back. "Thank gods you're okay. You had us worried! How are you feeling?"

"Good, cheers," Aerona grinned abashedly. Suddenly druids and Riders alike were smiling at her. Apparently she'd achieved celebrity status. "A headache, and I'm hungry and tired in equal measures, but I'm fine otherwise."

"Good." The Wingleader gave Dylan a wryly meaningfull look that Aerona suspected meant 'See, I told you she'd be fine' and clapped him on the shoulder. "Right. Let's get you going. I want to hear every grisly detail of his unendurably long execution as soon as possible."

"I'll write it up for you," Adara offered, springing neatly aboard her meraden. "I'll be especially sure to describe his face and the noises he makes."

A white-robed druid stepped in front of Aerona, gently placing his fingers on her temples and closing his eyes.

"Final check," he smiled. "Now, is there any dizziness, Rider? Is your vision clear?"

"No, and yes," Aerona said, feeling the sore spot on her head tingle slightly. "Am I okay to sleep later? It's all I really want to do."

"Good news, then," the druid said, the pain dulling slightly. He opened his eyes and stepped back, pulling a letter out of his robes. "Eating and sleeping are the best things you can do now. Give this to one of the healers at the Union; they can take over. But, I expect you'll be back to normal in a day or two. Rhonwen?"

The druid tending to Owain let go and stepped away, her indigo robes swirling about her bare feet. She glanced impassively at Aerona, her eyes sharp, and something somewhere in Aerona's memory rang a faint bell -

"Mount up, daffodil," Dylan said cheerfully, pulling Briallu in front of a mounting block. "Hey, if you die on the way back can I take over with those mini humans you teach?"

"Children," Aerona giggled, climbing up. Riders appeared to fasten her harness for her. "And no, certainly not. I don't think Tutoring would be your gift."

"I've a lot to teach, you know," Dylan said, hopping onto his own meraden. "I know over fifty drinking games, you know. And over a hundred blasphemous swearwords, two of which are in Saxon. Awen taught me."

"What?"

It was the first thing Owain had said since they'd come in. He looked at Dylan, half-startled, half-disbelieving, blinking his obvious grogginess away. Adara snorted contemptuously.

"Yes, Owain," she said in the tone of one talking to the very stupid. "She speaks Saxon. Didn't you know?"

"Right, before this devolves," Dylan grinned, pushing his mare towards the runway. Now that Aerona looked, she saw the reins had been removed from Owain's harness; instead, two long lines extended to Dylan and Adara, anchoring him to them both. She trotted Briallu after them, throwing a final returned Salute to the gathered Riders.

"Goodbye, Trallwng," Adara said mildly, waving. "We only hated the bits that weren't your fault. We'll do this again when we don't have a cretin to handle."

"I look forward to it," the Beta Wingleader grinned. "Safe flight."

The air was warm as they flew up into it, the sun already strong. From here if she squinted she could just about make out the Union, a speck on the distant mountains. They pushed on.

"Awen speaks Saxon?" Owain said suddenly. Aerona looked around. He was staring at his meraden's neck, thinking hard. Adara shot him a look of pure venom.

"Yes," she said harshly. "So you see, Owain? You really don't know everything, just like we've always said."

"I've never claimed to," he snarled back, his eyes snapping abruptly to her face. "That was your invention, not mine."

"Claiming it and believing it are actually separate things, you stupid prick," Adara said, and Dylan burst out laughing.

"Yeah, nicely put!" he grinned. "But don't be too harsh. Now he knows she speaks Saxon, see, he's questionning all of his cunningly hidden correspondance with Flyn and Coenred, which is making him panic. And, once he's thought a bit further along that path, it's going to be the least of his massive worries."

Owain was silent. Aerona giggled. Adara's smirk was evil.

"Behind the mirror?" she asked slyly. "Was that in Saxon?"

"Some of it," Dylan said casually. "Thing is, though, back me up Aerona, our boy here thought it was only him who could speak any, see? And therefore, he thought it was only him who was special."

"Oh," Aerona said, with dawning realisation. "Yes, you're right. It's his idea of thinking he's better than everyone, and that no one else could possible handle what he's been doing, remember?"

"I remember," Adara said, a pointed glance at Owain.

"Fuck you," Owain muttered softly. Aerona carried on.

"He thought only he could help Flyn nobly tame the Saxons," Aerona carried on. "And therefore was a better Rider than Awen. But if not..."

"It was still only me." Owain's voice was low, and vicious. "It still is. Don't flatter yourselves. We've spent centuries just defending ourselves from them, hundreds and hundreds of years of letting them attack because we're too weak to take the bloody initiative. Lord Flyn's plan will finally stop that. But it needed a Rider who could think outside the bloody box, and that hardly describes anyone else in the country, does it?"

"Do you know Awen at all?" Aerona asked with horrified fascination. Owain's lip actually curled.

"She's blind," he said. "She's incredible, and she does the best job she can, but she couldn't handle this. She's an Alpha Wingleader. She's all above board and everything's out in the open with her. I saved her from this."

And Dylan was laughing silently over his meraden's neck, his shoulders shaking, apparently barely able to breathe. Aerona giggled, one hand pressed to her mouth. Adara watched Owain with loathing.

"You complete and utter retard," she said, her voice terrifyingly low and quiet. "That's what you think? That's genuinely what you think? Who do you think found that stuff behind that mirror? Who do you think found the family you tortured to death? Who do you think found a way into Flyn's secret sodding safe under his floorboards? Who found the real Saxon ruler and her supporters, living in Cwmbrân? Who do you think knew about Flyn's plan from the start? Who do you think found you? Who do you think found the bloody child you killed?"

"Well, that was actually me," Aerona muttered quietly, but she didn't let Owain hear. Awen could have that one.

Dylan sat up, still laughing but now apparently with sufficient breath to make sounds.

"Oh, gods dude, you're so lame!" he laughed gleefully. "I knew her for five minutes, and I had a better idea! Fail."

Owain shook his head, his smile condescending, and said nothing. No one had ever ellicited as strong an urge to punch them in the face before, Aerona reflected. He really was unpleasant.

"And she's dying because of you," Adara muttered, the hatred thick. "I swear to every god in existence, if she's dead by the time we get back I will very literally and very slowly skin you."

"Hey." Aerona moved Briallu, flying her around to Adara's side. "She wasn't that bad yet when we left. And she's intelligent, she'll stay out of the way of any Sovereigns while she's dangerous."

"Yeah," Adara said sardonically. "Although possibly not Lord Gwilym, eh? To be honest, if I had days to live - I would."

"Except she might kill him," Dylan supplied. "So she probably wouldn't in all. You know; in case she killed him."

"Lord Gwilym?" Owain asked sharply, but before Adara could answer Dylan's hand whipped around and threw something small at him that clipped the side of his head, making him yelp. It could have been a button.

"No," Dylan said firmly, back in Giving Orders Mode. "You even raise an eyebrow in judgement of that woman about anything at all, boy, and I'll have your ear off. You've done enough there."

"Dylan," Aerona said mock-reproachfully. "He's just been treated for concussion. Don't throw things at his head."

"What was it, anyway?" Adara asked with interest. "It looked satisfyingly solid."

"Arrowhead," Dylan shrugged. "Hopefully it cut him. Quiet now, boy, or I'll gag you. Or just knock you out again, and Aerona is right; no nice druids up here to sort you out."

"Was I about to say something?" Aerona asked abruptly. Something was nagging at her memory, vague and barely-remembered. Head injury getting in the way, she supposed. "I feel like I was about to say something, but can't remember what."

"Well, then, we wouldn't know, would we, you crazy," Adara said fondly. "But it's nice to see your perforated skull hasn't helped to prevent your internal monologue from externalising."

"Shut up," Aerona giggled. "I think it was important and everything."

"You'll remember it again, then," Dylan said, scanning the skyline to the left. "I can see the sea, I get the flavoured milk!"

"Oh, wow, you're ten," Adara said, and Aerona settled comfortably. Presense of Owain aside, it was lovely to be back home.

It was a short flight to the Union from Trallwng, only half an hour, so it felt like no time at all before they were flying into a landing bay, stablehands still in their formal robes rushing forward to help. As Dylan hit the floor he held up one arm, summoning forward the Guard Riders at the end of the bay; it was Idris and Bethan again, Aerona noted as they strode forward. She felt tired again.

"Right, team," Dylan said cheerfully as they approached. "Look! That's Owain Masarnen there! Fetch some more Guards, would you? Oh, and we need a druid for Aerona."

"I'll fetch them," Bethan said, vanishing quickly. Idris smiled grimly and marched over to Owain, unclipping the lines that linked him to Adara and Dylan.

"I want to go to sleep again now," Aerona yawned. "I feel like I haven't slept in two days."

"So do I!" Dylan said brightly, springing down and coming to help her. Her harness was already undone, Aerona noted absently. She hadn't realised. "Well; a day. Slide this way, I'll catch you."

"That's really decent of you," Aerona smiled. Something was nagging at her again. She wondered what on earth it was.

Dylan hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her down as the Guards arrived, bearing down on Owain. Dylan grinned.

"That's us done," he said, satisfied. "And there's your druid, look, it's the one who doesn't like Riders. Let's go and be sniffed at."

It was indeed Haf. As they made their way across the landing bay, Adara in tow, Haf inclined her head for them to follow and left, the indigo robes flaring with the movement, revealing her bare feet -

There was definitely something she was forgetting. Dammit, why was it so hard to think? Well; the head injury, and the fact that Aerona was now increasingly tired, stumbling slightly. Dylan guided her out into the corridor, heading towards the Spiral Stairs. Haf gave them a disapproving look.

"Alright, what happened?" she demanded. "You're swaying. Already had druidic attention, or have you just decided to put a plaster on and nobly deal with it?"

"Already had it," Aerona said defensively, pulling the druid's letter out and handing it to her. What was she forgetting? It was... It was something to do with that druid, tending Owain...

"Oh, a cranial drill," Haf said, sounding unimpressed. "And then you flew. Well done. Would you like to do some heavy lifting while you're here? I'm sure we can arrange some."

"I knew it," Dylan said morosely. "I said you shouldn't fly. It was Adara's fault."

Aerona didn't hear the protest. That impassive druid with the water - except she hadn't done anything suspicious, just a healer tending a patient. What was wrong? What had she done? Nothing but give him a drink, until the old druid had called her. Rhonwen.

Rhonwen.

Aerona knew that name.

"Oh gods," she whispered, stopping. As Dylan walked on for a step and was half-supporting her it made her sag against him briefly, but suddenly adrenaline was flooding her system, forcing her awake. "Rhonwen. He called her Rhonwen. She was on the list!"

"What-?" Adara started, but Aerona was already pulling away, heading back along the corridor, Dylan at her shoulder.

"The list of druids!" she said, accelerating. "The one with Owain before we left, she was on it! The ones who went up mountains -"

The yells emanating from the landing bay were the first clue; the handful of screams the second. The third, reassuringly, was the sound of the runway doors slamming closed, followed by Owain's curse. As they approached the bay door, Dylan and Adara pulling in front, Haf suddenly grabbed Aerona's shoulder, throwing out a hand to the others.

"Don't go in!" she ordered sharply, halting them. "They're blind in there. And you won't recover from a second time."

Dylan swore harshly, looking around, the black scarring making his eyes around four times as intimidating as they would have been. Adara was watching the door, bow unslung and arrow ready.

"Right," he said urgently. "There are too many passages out of there, he'll already be gone. Aerona, go and find Awen, quickly. Adara, we need to sound the alert and get all the runways closed. Haf, you'll need to help the people in there..."

Aerona didn't hear the rest. After this was over Haf was going to have a lot to say on the subject of her running around after cranial drills, but right now it really didn't matter. Her footfalls were muffled by the carpets as she ran, listening desperately for any sound of Owain or the alarm. What if he got away? What if he made it away again? Well, it wouldn't be a subtle recovery mission next time, that was certain. It would be an invasion force that would wipe out Saxonia until he turned up.

She crashed down the Spiral Stairs, thanking every god she knew for Rider agility. As she reached the floor the wail of a border klaxon slammed into her ears, and Aerona breathed a sigh of relief, running faster. Well, he wouldn't be leaving now.The trouble being, the man was crazy. What he'd do now was anyone's guess. Or, hopefully, Awen's.

She reached the Wing quarters as the Wing were exiting at high speed, all looking as alert as a pack of wolves on a hunt. Aerona skidded to a halt, Awen pushing through and catching her shoulders, her face preternaturally calm.

"Owain's escaped!" Aerona panted, gripping her wrists. "And he's got the druidic thing that blinded Dylan, or he did, I don't -"

"When did he get it?" Awen asked urgently, and somewhat oddly, Aerona felt.

"Trallwng," she said, fighting for breath. "One of the druids on the list healed him, she-"

"Landing bays," Awen said, pointing to three Riders. "Eluned - the klaxon. You three, get to Lord Flyn, get him locked up somewhere he can't get to him."

They scattered, and Awen swung back to Aerona.

"Think," she commanded. "Very carefully. Between Trallwng and here, what did you talk about that he could hear? Why would he wait until now to break away?"

"Um..." Aerona looked down, her mind racing. "He argued with Adara. She told him you speak Saxon. He said he was saving you from dealing with the Saxons, because only he could handle it. Adara told him about the stuff you found behind the mirror and in the safe and the tortured people -"

Awen's eyes went deadly. Aerona wondered at which bit.

"Gwilym?" she asked bizarrely. Aerona snapped her fingers.

"Yes!" she said. "Adara mentioned in passing about -"

And Awen was gone, racing away down the corridor, Aerona running after her to try to catch up. They were good, she recalled from the file, at predicting each other's moves. What had Awen worked out?

"What's he doing?" she managed, pulling closer as Awen paused to negotiate a door. They hit the Stairs and started down, Awen so close to the central column it was a controlled fall down a slope rather than a descent down steps.

"He's after Lord Gwilym!" Awen threw back, leaping for a door. The Sovereigns' Quarters, Aerona realised. They were heading for the Sovereigns' Quarters. Guard Riders kept running past in all directions, but Awen threaded her way through them, her out-of-control attack instincts apparently waylaid by her urgent need to get from A to B. They arrived at an enormous oaken door, the crest of Aberystwyth engraved into it, and Awen didn't bother to knock. She burst through, Aerona close on her heels, and looked around desperately.

The clerk who'd looked like a kettle looked up in surprise from his serene writing, expression darkening slightly as he saw Awen for some reason.

"Where is he?" Awen demanded, all Alpha Wingleader. Watkins stood.

"Not here," he said tonelessly. "His lordship is scheduled to meet King Dara this afternoon and give him a tour of the theatre. His majesty has been most vociferous in his excitement."

"Other side of the Union," Aerona panted as they sprinted back out, panic gripping her heart. "How quickly would Owain find out they're there?"

"Almost instantly," Awen said, voice tight. "If Dara's been talking, everyone will know. And it's next to the Audience Chambers."

They ran on, far too far away.