The Two Tanists (A Bard Without a Star, Book 2) by Michael A. Hooten

to counter as best he could. Kyrnin’s advantage in size and
weight were difficult to overcome, and Gwydion’s horse began to falter.
Sensing weakness, Kyrnin pressed harder. Gwydion tried to move out of reach,
and found himself being pushed back towards the Dyfed side of the river. He
could see the Dyfedians at the top of the hill, and he knew it would not be
long before he had more than Kyrnin to fight.
    He slipped his feet from his
stirrups. Without the leverage, he could feel himself slipping off his horse,
and Kyrnin pressed forward to finish the fall. Gwydion reached out and stabbed
Kyrnin’s mount through the neck, then leaped clear.
    Kyrnin, feeling his horse
die, struggled to get free before he fell. Gwydion slapped his own horse on
the rump to get him out of the way, and attacked Kyrnin even as he fell into
the water. There was a brief moment where it seemed that air and river mixed
together. Gwydion could barely breathe, and he struck out at the flailing man
in front of him again and again, while avoiding the silver flashing blade that
flickered all over the place.
    The two Tanists broke apart,
dripping and panting as they faced each other. Gwydion tried to raise his
shield, and discovered that he could barely lift it. He could smell his own
blood seeping from his shoulder. Kyrnin saw it, and grinned as Gwydion let the
shield fall in the water.
    Kyrnin attacked again, and
Gwydion began to fall back again, but he had turned so that he was moving
closer to Gwynedd, and into deeper water. The river pulled at them, and
Gwydion knew he would only have one chance. Kyrnin smelled victory, and
pressed forward in a flurry of blows that Gwydion barely fended off.
    His haste made him fearless,
and reckless. Kyrnin stepped on a river rock that rolled under his foot,
putting him momentarily off balance. Gwydion saw the surprise in his face, and
responded quickly. He stepped inside Kyrnin’s guard, and using his shield
hand, drew his belt dagger and stabbed it into Kyrnin’s neck.
    Blood sprayed, and Kyrnin
tried to gurgle out a curse, but could not. His eyes dimmed as he fell to his
knees. Gwydion backed away and watched as he fell forward. The river pulled
at the body, hauling it downstream.
    Gwydion looked up and saw
Gwillim on the bank, staring at his son floating lifelessly away. A great sob
escaped his lips, and the captain beside him said, “Lord? What would you have
us do?”
    Gwillim looked at Gwydion,
who felt the caution melt away in raw hatred. “Kill them all,” Lord Dyfed
said. “Lay waste to Gwynedd, steal their daughters and cattle, and make them
pay for the life of my son. And start with that one there.”
    Gwydion raised his sword in
futile defiance as the army of Dyfed entered the river. “Uncle,” he said into
the winds, “I am perished without you.”
    Behind him, as if in
response, a horn sounded. Gwydion whipped around and saw Math in golden armor,
his beard tucked into his belt, coming down to the river with hundreds of men
spread out behind him and on either side. The Dyfedians saw them and gave a
loud war cry, rushing even faster across the river.
    “Fly, nephew!” Math cried.
“Fly!”
    Gwydion didn’t understand at
first, being more concerned with the warriors almost upon him, but then he saw
a carrion crow winging towards the armies, and comprehension dawned. He threw
his sword like a spear at the closest Dyfedian, then jumped up and took a
raven’s shape. His wounded shoulder made it hard to fly, but he got up and
away, and with a cry to his uncle, began his slow, painful way to Caer Don.

Chapter 7: Consummation
    Gwydion flew along, trying
not to think, when he saw a small ragged group down below. He recognized Bran,
and dropped lower, landing in front of them and shape shifting back to human
form.
    “By the Gods!” Bran said,
pulling up hard. “Don’t do that!”
    “I was wondering if I could
ride with you a bit,” Gwydion said.
    “I suppose the
heifer—mare—whatever