Gary, Diane, and Mickey were beside King Kinnemore, Geldion, and Lord Badenoch before dawn the next morning, on a high plateau that peeked through the towering mountains and afforded a view of the eastern plains.
The sun broke the horizon in their eyes, dawn spreading its lighted fingers across those plains, but all the companions saw was a dusty haze, and a darkness so complete beneath it that seemed as if a foul lake or a great, black amorphous blob was rolling out towards them.
"Thousands," King Kinnemore remarked, and for the first time, he seemed to doubt the wisdom of coming to Penllyn.
"Tens of thousands," Badenoch corrected. "Eager to serve a new leader, eager to anoint Ceridwen as their god-figure."
"We could fight a retreating action out of Penllyn," Prince Geldion offered. "Nearly half our force is mounted, and should be able to flank any spurs of lava newts that rush out to challenge our flight."
"And then where?" the King asked. "Back to our homes? Back to Connacht and Braemar? Which town will Ceridwen likely strike against first?"
"Braemar," Badenoch was quick to put in, for his village was the closest to Penllyn, with the exception of Connacht itself.
"Connacht," Kinnemore corrected. "Ceridwen is outraged. She will come straight for the throne, straight for my heart."
"Connacht's high walls will . . ." Geldion began, a snarl of determination accompanying his words. But Kinnemore cut him short with an upraised hand.
"Connacht's high walls will offer little protection against the witch's magic," the King answered. "Ceridwen will open the holes through which her wretched army might flow."
"We will kill five newts for every man!" Geldion promised.
"And even so, it would seem that we would still need ten times our number of men," the King answered. But Kinnemore, despite the grim words, did not seem despondent, seemed, in his own way, at least as determined as his volatile son.
"What are you thinking?" the perceptive Diane asked him bluntly.
"Ceridwen comes free tomorrow," Kinnemore replied. "Today she remains on her island." He looked directly at the woman, the set of his eyes showing that he spoke in all seriousness and with a clear mind. "Her small island."
"Oh begorra," they heard Mickey grumble.
That clued in Gary to the leprechaun's suspicions, a guess that he shared. "You're going after her," he said to the King, his tone making the statement sound like an accusation.
Kinnemore didn't flinch. "My son will command . . ."
"I'm going with you!" Geldion interrupted.
Kinnemore paused for a long moment and studied the Prince. Geldion had been fiercely loyal all his life, even against his own better judgment, because he had believed that the haggis was truly the King. Kinnemore had heard this above all else when his field commanders and old friends spoke of his son. It wouldn't be fair now, Kinnemore realized, to force Geldion to remain behind, even if he believed that Geldion was the best choice to handle the impending battle with the lava newts.
He bobbed his head, just slightly, and Geldion returned the nod.
"Lord Badenoch," the King said, turning the other way to face the proud man, "it would seem that I am without a commander."
Always conscious of protocol, the man did not verbally respond, just came to a straighter posture. "And so I give you the command of Connacht's army," Kinnemore went on. "And in the case that we do not return, I give to you the crown of Connacht. Wear it well, good man, for if we do not return, then surely your first days as King will be filled with difficult decisions."
Badenoch unexpectedly shook his head. "In this I must refuse," he answered, and more than King Kinnemore gasped in surprise.
"You have a commander," the Lord of Braemar explained. "And though I applaud Prince Geldion for wanting to accompany you on this most important mission, I fear that his judgment is skewed, and his wisdom is altogether missing."
"You speak words that could be considered treasonous," Kinnemore replied, but there was no threat in his inquisitive tone.
"So they would be, if they were not true," Badenoch said. "The mission to Ynis Gwyndrin is of utmost importance, but so too is the coming battle. Our armies must fight well now or be destroyed, and scattered from the mountains. While flattered by your confidence, I must admit that I am not qualified for what you have asked. I have never directed a force a quarter as large as the army of Connacht, nor am I familiar with the training and tactics of your soldiers."
"Surely there are commanders . . ." Kinnemore began to reason, but Badenoch was adamant.
"I have witnessed your army in action without the leadership of Prince Geldion," he firmly replied. "They were not an impressive force."
"I wish to go to Ynis Gwydrin," Geldion said through gritted teeth, for he could see that his chance to accompany his father was fast slipping away.
"Yet you are needed here," Badenoch answered. "To direct our combined forces in a battle that might well determine the future of our land. I understand your preference, and applaud your loyalty and courage. But you are a Prince of Faerie, and if you are ever to properly ascend to your father's throne, then you must learn now that your personal preferences are of little consequence. To be a leader, Prince Geldion, means to understand the needs of your subjects, and to put those needs above your personal preferences."
Gary, and everyone else, gawked in disbelief. Lord Badenoch had just put this tentative and so new alliance to a difficult test by speaking to, scolding, Prince Geldion publicly. But the Lord of Braemar's words had been honest, and undeniably wise, and even Geldion, showing no outward signs of any impending explosion, seemed to understand that.
King Kinnemore started to respond, but paused and put a thoughtful look over his son.
Geldion glanced around to all his companions, his expression revealing that caged and hungry look that had typified the volatile Prince's behavior for the last few years. That expression changed to resignation, though, and then to open acceptance. Gary, and especially Diane, saw that clearly, saw that Prince Geldion had just passed the first true test of this new kingdom.
It seemed to Diane that at that moment, the boy-Prince had become a rightful heir.
"With your permission," Geldion said to his father, "I will excuse myself from the trip to Ynis Gwydrin. I will do as you first instructed me, and lead our forces to victory over the invading lava newts." Geldion paused and glanced at Badenoch, who was trying to remain regal, but could not completely mask his widening and approving smile.
"Fare well, my father," Geldion said, fighting hard to keep his voice from cracking. "And, I pray you, keep safe."
"Here it comes, lad," Mickey whispered as both Geldion and Kinnemore slowly turned Gary's way.
"I'm going with you," Gary, the King's appointed champion, remarked before Kinnemore could even ask. "And I am, too," Diane promptly added.
Behind them, Mickey groaned, and Gary smiled, knowing that the sprite, too, would accompany them. Gary had come to fully understand Mickey McMickey, and he had confidence that the loyal leprechaun would stick by his side through any darkness.
Kinnemore accepted Gary's offer with a determined nod, then looked from the man to his wife.
"She goes," Gary said, his even tone offering no chance for debate.
Again the King nodded, and thought that Gary's trust in his wife was a very special thing indeed. The encampment near Loch Gwydrin bustled with activity soon after, the soldiers putting down their weapons and taking up hand axes, pegs, and ropes. Tommy was most effective, running from the sandy banks repeatedly, returning each trip with an armful of huge logs that could be cut and strapped together into barges. Gary, ordered by Kinnemore to keep his armor buckled on, Diane, and Mickey remained with the King during the construction, lending silent support to the determined yet obviously troubled man. Kinnemore had little to say those hours, even when Diane proclaimed that his son would one day make a fine King.
Mickey wasn't so sure of that; neither was Gary, who had seen the other side of Prince Geldion, but neither said a word to contradict the claim and both hoped that Diane was right.
The boats were completed soon after noon, a flotilla of fifteen barges that could each carry between seven and nine soldiers, in addition to those rowing. They were squared boats, just strapped logs, really, but Gwydrin was not a large lake and the isle, nestled in the shadows of towering cliffs, was only a few hundred yards from the shore.
Kinnemore quickly determined his forces. It would take four men to properly navigate each raft, and all but one of the barges would return to this bank, ready to ferry more men across if the need arose or if they could be spared by his son. That would put approximately six score soldiers on Ynis Gwydrin with the King and his champion - or champions, because Diane was playing the role as well as Gary. Kinnemore picked the leaders of that small force from the few friends he remembered from the days before Ceridwen had stolen him away, the few soldiers who had been strong enough to remain in their beloved army despite the unruly reign of the haggis. The King, in turn, let these leaders select the men who would accompany them, and then the rest of the boat-builders, some three hundred soldiers, were dismissed, to return to Prince Geldion for further orders. It was all done quickly and efficiently, without a hitch - except for one.
Tommy put a perfectly plaintive look over Gary, the giant understanding that none of the barges would support his bulk. Tommy had walked across this lake before (once even carrying Gary and his companions), but even the not-so-bright giant seemed to understand that he would not be allowed to go this time.
"You have to get back to Prince Geldion and Lord Badenoch," Gary said cheerily, trying to put a positive spin on things. "They'll welcome your strength in their fight!"
Tommy shook his head. "Tommy go back to the island with you," he replied. "Tommy wants to see the Lady again."
The giant's tone made Gary and Mickey exchange nervous stares. Ceridwen had not treated Tommy badly in his years on the island, had served somewhat as a surrogate mother to the orphaned giant, and if Tommy held any remaining loyalty to the witch, he would surely make King Kinnemore's mission more difficult.
"Tommy remembers," the giant said determinedly. Again Gary and Mickey looked to each other. "Tommy remembers what the bad lady did on the one mountain." "The one mountain?" Diane asked.
"Giant's Thumb," Gary explained, and both he and Mickey were more at ease then, knowing that if they could not convince Tommy to remain behind, the giant would at least be a complete ally in this venture, even if their goal turned out to be the death of Ceridwen. Ceridwen had turned on Tommy, had nearly killed them all on the slopes of Giant's Thumb, before Gary had put the mighty spear into her belly, banishing her to Ynis Gwydrin.
Still, Gary thought it important to convince Tommy to go to Geldion and Badenoch. The powerful giant would no doubt be much more helpful in the coming large-scale battle than in the tight confines of the witch's castle.
"You can't even stand straight in most of the rooms," Gary reasoned. "If you go with us to the island, you'll have to just wait outside the castle while we go in after Ceridwen."
The giant's expression became an open pout.
"But if you stay here," Gary continued hopefully, "you'll be able to help out in the fight. And they'll need you, Tommy."
The giant continued to pout as he considered the words. "Tommy does not like his choices," he remarked at length.
"Neither did Geldion," Diane put in. "He wanted to go along with his father, but he knew that it would be better for everyone if he stayed behind. That's what we have to do now, Tommy. Think what's better for everyone."
The giant stubbornly shook his head, but in the end, he agreed, and after pushing off all of the barges (and what a fine start that was towards the island!), Tommy waved goodbye to Gary, Diane, and Mickey, gave a determined nod, and followed the departing soldiers into the mountains.
Prince Geldion sat atop his horse, the same gray he had used on the two trips to the Crahgs, on a high ridge at the head of a valley that opened up to the fields east of Penllyn. When he and Badenoch and their closest advisors had first come to this spot, after Geldion had left his father, Geldion had thought this a magnificent view.
Soon after, all he could see was the encroaching doom, the lava newt army swarming across the fields like the shadow of a dark cloud.
"Too many," Badenoch whispered at his side.
Geldion eyed the Lord directly.
"I agree that we must catch them between the spurs, in this same valley," Badenoch went on. "But I fear that they are too many to even fit into this valley."
Prince Geldion couldn't find the conviction to disagree. His first plan of defense for Penllyn had been simply designed. They would try to lure the lava newts into the mountains through a few select areas, most notably the valley before him, where the defenders might concentrate their forces enough to stall any advance. To that end, Geldion's cavalry and a single, imposing giant were even now slipping out of the mountains south of the approaching force in an attempt to strike at the lava newts' southern flank. By all accounts, the lava newts were running and not riding, and thus should pose little threat to the swift force, for the soldiers were not out to engage on any large scale, only to herd.
Prince Geldion was betting that the lava newts, so anxious to get to Ceridwen, thinking that they would do better against horsemen in the rough mountain terrain than on the open fields, and thinking that they would do better to avoid the giant at any cost on any terrain, would hardly slow to deal with the minor inconvenience of the cavalry. Likely, their forces would slowly shift to the north, putting them more in line for the rocky spurs and the valley, the designated killing field.
All reports thus far showed that Geldion's guess appeared to be on the mark. The lava newts were sliding inevitably north, giving ground to the cavalry and running with all speed from Tommy. That gave little measure of comfort to the tactical-minded Prince, though, for he feared that Lord Badenoch's assessment that, like a flood, the newts would simply swarm over the hills, through all passes, guarded and unguarded, might prove painfully true.
"Every group is ready, my Prince!" one of Geldion's advisors said determinedly, and Geldion nodded, not doubting the discipline of his warriors, or of those men from Braemar.
"Then tell the archers to bend back their bows," Lord Badenoch replied, and motioned back towards the eastern end of the valley, where the lead runners of the lava newt force had nearly entered.
They spotted the cavalry contingent a moment later, tiny figures out on the wide field, working hard to keep the line shifting. Horsemen rushed in and out for quick hits and quicker retreats. Geldion (and the others too) winced as one horseman rode down a newt too far out from the line. But the soldier's horse tripped up as it pounded over the fallen monster, and though the man managed to keep his seat and keep the horse upright, the stumble cost him precious moments. Before he could bring his mount back up to a gallop, a group of newts rushed over him and, by the sheer weight of numbers, brought him down. Other horsemen tried to get in to help their fallen comrade, but they were inevitably driven off by scores of the vicious lava newts. Tommy rushed in and scattered the newts, but the soldier was lost by that time.
Crying out in their hissing voices, beating their clubs and swords against shabby shields, a huge bulk of the lava newt force thundered into the valley.
Badenoch looked to Geldion, but the Prince sat calm. "Let them come," Geldion said softly, more to himself than to the Lord, trying to keep his calm and his patience.
Half the valley was full of newts, and lines of the lizardlike humanoids filtered up the rocky spurs, and no doubt along many of the trails north of this position.
Still Geldion waited. Their moment of complete surprise would be short; the Prince knew that he had to make it as effective as possible.
Most of the valley was filled with darkness. Lava newts flowed out from many angles, along climbing trails, most of which led nowhere.
Finally, Prince Geldion nodded and the soldier to his left put a horn to his lips and blew a single, clear note. Up came the roar of the Connacht and Braemar forces. The humming of half a thousand bowstrings echoed from the mountainsides, and a wall of arrows cut the air with a great rush and whistle.
The newts continued to pour into the valley; screams of pain grew around their hissing war chants. Arrows flew as thick as locusts, and few answering shots came up from the valley floor.
Along those trails exiting the valley that did not abruptly end, the leading newt soldiers found themselves suddenly in combat - and usually in the worst possible attacking position along the ledge. Ringing steel joined the thrumming of bows, and screaming newts plummeted from high ledges, crashing in among the dead on the valley floor.
In all their years, in all their battles, neither Geldion nor Badenoch, nor even the professional soldiers flanking them, had ever seen such a massacre. The devastation was horrendous, the valley floor fast blackening with the writhing forms of dying newts. In one section along the southern wall, Geldion's soldiers even set off a small avalanche, crushing a hundred newts under tons of rock.
But a thousand newts swarmed over that area immediately after the tumble had ended.
All across the valley, and in those passes to the north, the line of the invaders seemed endless, two replacing every one that died, and four to replace those two after that. The arche,rs continued to rain devastation on the newts, while those soldiers holding the strategic ledges methodically cut down their opponents one after another.
Even so, the newts made progress to complete the filling of the valley. Even so, every time a soldier on any ledge was defeated, valuable, critical ground was lost. And those newts that had gotten into the foothills along the northern passes were coming fast, flanking the defenders.
It went on for a solid half hour, lava newt bodies piled high, but the tide began to shift, the ratio of losses began to even out.
"Well fought," Lord Badenoch remarked to Prince Geldion when the two came to a new vantage point, one farther back as all of the Connacht army had been pushed. Geldion studied the older man. Badenoch's sentiments seemed true enough, but the man's tone revealed a sense of utter hopelessness.
"I know how you are feeling at this moment," the Lord of Braemar explained. "For I felt the same when my army came out onto the fields to battle the forces of Connacht. The tactics were impressive, and we have killed the newts at ten to one, or more. But they, and not we, have the soldiers to spare."
The grim words rang painfully true to Geldion as he looked down at the now-distant valley, its floor writhing with the black mass of lava newts who had not yet even seen battle. All along Penllyn's eastern edge, north, and even south of the Prince's position, was now in the hands of the enemy.
Geldion looked over his shoulder, back to the west, to the higher and still-open trails filled with defensible positions. But Geldion's expression was not a hopeful one, for he feared that he and his soldiers would soon have nowhere to run.
