ready.”
Madoc took hold of Dodinal’s shield and sword while the other three men shared out Hywel’s belongings between them to lighten the load. That done, Dodinal placed both hands beneath Hywel and lifted him, placing him gently over one shoulder, giving silent thanks that the tracker was such a small man.
They set off, chancing to luck that they were heading north, for they had lost all sense of direction. The river grew quieter as they moved away from it, until it was no more than a distant rumble.
Gerwyn and Madoc walked a few paces ahead of Dodinal, with Emlyn and Gwythyr following closely behind. The knight kept one hand resting on Hywel’s back to try to hold him still.
After a couple of hours of uneventful travelling, he called a halt, although he could have carried on with no discomfort for several hours more. He lowered Hywel to the ground, using a pack to cushion his head, and they sat in a rough circle around him, shields raised while they debated with lowered voices whether it would be wiser to wait for the dawn or push on once they had rested.
In the end, it was agreed they would move on. They were tired and craved sleep, but recognised they would only lose time they could not afford to lose, if they sat around until daylight. Dodinal lifted Hywel again and they gathered up their belongings and continued on their way at a steady pace.
Occasionally the tracker would let out a low moan or would shift on the knight’s broad shoulders as though coming around, only to remain dead to the world. Dodinal hoped he would make it. Putting aside their friendship, they had lost two men already and could not afford to lose a third. Before long, they would have to decide what to do with him if he did not regain consciousness. Their options would be limited. Dodinal pushed such thoughts from his mind. He was already dizzy from too little sleep and too little food.
Night headed towards dawn; the forest brightened almost imperceptibly around them. Soon it became apparent the woodland was no longer as dense and oppressive as it had been. It would not be long before they left the forest behind. Dodinal yearned for the feel of the sun on his face.
They had lost the trail in their haste to get away, after the attacks on Rhydian and Hywel. For now that did not seem important. They could return to the woods later, if needs be, and search around until they picked up the tracks. Once they had rested, that was. Their eyes drooped and they stumbled as they walked. They had travelled a long way, and were still reeling from the night’s horrors. They would be in no fit state to resume the search until they had slept.
They reached the tree line, grinning and laughing as they emerged from the forest. After so many days in the wildwood, the world suddenly opened up into an endless expanse. They stopped and looked about them as though they had forgotten what the land looked like, drawing fresh, clean air deep into their lungs.
The sky was cold purple, streaked with pale salmon to the east. Ahead of them were piled banks of clouds, high and dark, looming ominously like great castles on the horizon. While there was not enough light for them to see clearly by, the men could hear the soft swish of a breeze skimming the grassland.
Finally Dodinal spoke up. “We have to keep moving.”
“Oh, what?” Gerwyn groaned. “I’m dead on my feet.”
“You will be if any of those creatures are still in the forest. If you feel too tired to walk, just remember what they did to Rhydian. There is open ground ahead. We can make camp once we’re far enough away from the trees that we can see them coming if they attack.”
He led the way, shuffling through the knee-high grass away from the forest until they reached a small stand of trees. Dodinal turned to look back the way they had come. The forest was a great sleeping beast, a shadowy monster stretching across the land from east to west for as far as the eye could see. For a man who was most at home in the wild, he was surprised at how relieved he felt to be leaving it behind.
Packs and weapons thumped and clattered as they were dropped to the ground with groans of relief.
“Here, let me help you.” It was Madoc. Dodinal crouched until Hywel’s feet were touching the ground, the chieftain holding him so he did not fall. Between them they carried him over to the nearest tree and gently lowered him until he was resting beneath its branches. Dodinal lifted his head and placed a pack beneath it, then took off his cloak and draped it over the tracker’s supine body. He pressed his fingers to Hywel’s neck; the pulse was stronger than it had been.
“Get some sleep,” Madoc told him. “That goes for the rest of you. I’ll rouse the next man in two hours.”
“Are you sure?” Dodinal asked. The chieftain was the oldest of them all by many years. The journey would have been hardest on him.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry about me. I can rest later. I’ll stay close to Hywel and keep an eye on him in case he comes round.”
Dodinal nodded. He trusted Madoc to stay awake. He settled down under the trees, the other men close by, and reached for a pack, pulling it over to rest his head on, and was asleep almost immediately.
When he felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake, it felt like only moments had passed. He opened his eyes and saw the sun was high in a clear blue sky. “What time is it?” he asked in a thick voice.
“Noon, or thereabouts,” Gerwyn answered.
“You should have woken me sooner.”
“We decided to let you sleep on. You carried Hywel for hours.”
Dodinal’s eyes flicked towards the stricken hunter, who lay where they had left him. “Has he come around yet?”
Gerwyn shook his head. “He opened his eyes once when Emlyn was checking the wound, but only for a few moments. Even then, he did not seem to be aware of anything. I’m worried about him.”
Dodinal said nothing. He was worried too. He got up, brushing dirt and dry leaves from his clothes. Stretching his arms and back, he wandered out from beneath the stand of trees and stood in the long grass, absorbing the view. It was enough to take his breath away.
Behind him, the forest was as dark and forbidding by daylight as it had been by moonlight, and to the east and west was open land, gently undulating as it stretched away for as far as the eye could see. But ahead of him, rising into the sky like a mighty fortification, was the range of mountains he had mistaken for clouds in the deep darkness that preceded dawn. Beyond the green, gentle foothills towered peaks higher and more formidable than any he had ever cast eyes on. They possessed a strange and desolate beauty. That was where they would find the gargoyle creatures. They could only have been spawned in so wild and dangerous a place.
He returned to the men. “We have to find the trail. It should not be difficult, but we have a lot of ground to cover. Gerwyn, you come with me. We’ll head west and search for tracks. Madoc, you and Gwythyr head east. Emlyn, stay here and watch over Hywel. All of you keep sharp. We can’t assume those things are only out at night.”
They set off, leaving their cloaks behind in the warm spring sunshine. Seeing the long grass they left broken and flattened in their wake, Dodinal had no concerns about picking up the creatures’ trail. Sure enough, he and Gerwyn had not gone far when they heard Madoc call out. They turned to see him in the distance, waving his arms above his head, and made their way over to him. Dodinal was not in the least surprised to find the trail led straight for the mountains.
When they returned to the stand of trees, Dodinal was relieved to see Hywel awake and sitting with his back against an oak. Emlyn crouched by him, talking quietly. The tracker looked up as they approached; a good sign. But as they drew closer they saw the anxiety on Emlyn’s face.
“How are you feeling?” Dodinal called out.
“Not good.” Hywel’s voice was strained.
“A headache?” Gerwyn asked. “If so, it should pass.”
“I wish it was just a headache. I could live with that.”
“Then what?” Madoc demanded. “What is it?”
Hywel passed a hand in front of his eyes. “I’m blind.”
9Medieval medicine commonly attributed dementia and brain damage to imbalanced humours or spiritual influences, but there is evidence that soldiers — including knights like Malory — and military surgeons were at least broadly aware of the effects of brain trauma.
