Gwalchmai was grinning broadly as Layne reached him and he handed the parchment over. Layne read it, nodded, then walked over to where Agwaine was sitting.
‘Well run, cousin,’ he said, squatting beside him.
‘Thank you. That was a devious strategy. But, as Gwalchmai says, it was within the rules and therefore I can have no complaint.’ Layne offered Agwaine the parchment. ‘What is this? What are you doing?’
‘There may be nothing in the rules against our tactic,” said Layne, ‘but I am not happy with it. Here. Read the line, and from now we start level.’
‘No, cousin,’ said Agwaine, gripping the other’s shoulder, ‘though I thank you for your courtesy. I must confess that were I not the fastest runner it is likely I would have used the tactic myself. I take it the lowlander conceived it?’
‘Yes.’
‘He has quick wits, I’ll give him that.’
Layne nodded. Then he stood and returned to the others, who had been watching the scene, puzzled. ‘Let’s find a place out of earshot and discuss our next move,’ he said, walking past them to the trees. Gaelen bit back his anger and followed. He had seen Layne offer the clue to Agwaine and noted the other’s refusal. It was confusing and deeply irritating.
In a deep hollow, away from the crowds, the four squatted in a huddled circle. Layne nodded to Gwalchmai, who began to speak in a hushed whisper. They were all aware that those teams without clues would now seek to follow and spy on the leading four.
‘The clues were simple to understand,’ whispered Gwalchmai. ‘The one we have is the simplest: “That which Earis lost.” So, it is a sword we seek. The other clues confirm it: “A King’s Sorrow”, “The Light that brings Darkness”, and “The Bane of Eska”. The question now is, where is it hidden?’
‘It’s hidden at, or near, Attafoss,’ whispered Gaelen.
‘What?’ said Layne, astonished. ‘How do you know?’
The rhyme: “Seek the beast that no one finds, always roaring, never silent. . .” When Caswallon took me to Attafoss it sounded like a great monster, but when we arrived there was no monster, merely a roaring fall of water.’
‘It could be,’ said Layne. ‘What do you think, Gwal?’
‘I agree with Gaelen.’
‘Lennox?’
The youth raised his shoulders in a non-committal shrug.
‘So,’ said Layne, ‘we are agreed. Well done, Gaelen. If we look at the rest of the verse it becomes even more obvious. “Beneath its skin, by silver wings, bring forth the long-lost dream of kings.” The blade is hidden under the water, guarded by fishes. But where? Attafoss is huge.’
There will be other clues,’ said Gwalchmai. ‘We must follow the right tracks.’
True,” said Layne. ‘All right. We’ll make camp higher up in the trees, then slip away before dawn and strike for Vallon.’
Dawn found the four of them miles from the first timber and well on their way. Layne led them down rocky slopes and over difficult terrain, constantly checking on what tracks they were leaving. By mid-morning he was content. Even the most skilful hunters would have difficulty finding them and, above all, the task would be time-consuming.
As they strolled through patches of yellow-gold gorse and across meadows bedecked with blooms, Gaelen rediscovered the strange sense of joy he first felt when Caswallon formally adopted him. He was home. Truly home.
Beside him Gwalchmai was whistling a merry tune and ahead Layne and Lennox were deep in conversation. Gaelen rubbed at his scarred eye, for it itched now and then, usually when he was tired.
‘Is it troubling you?’ asked Gwalchmai. Gaelen shook his head and Gwalchmai resumed whistling, but his thoughts remained on the youngster beside him. Gwalchmai had liked Gaelen from the first. He didn’t know why, but then he rarely rationalised such things; he relied on his emotions to steer him and they rarely played him false. He remembered his shock when he first saw the boy, his red hair streaked with a white slash, his left eye filled with blood – for all the world like a ruby set in his skull.
He had been prepared to dislike the lowlander, having listened to Agwaine speak sneeringly of Caswallon’s rescue. But there had been something about the way Gaelen carried himself – like a clansman, tall and proud. Gwalchmai stopped whistling as he noticed a track some ten paces from the trail.