The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (52 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY FIVE

Elder Tomas had managed to acquire a precious few minutes with Aeron in his private chambers. The Bwy Hir were still present in his outer chambers but Aeron had conceded to a few private moments with his Councillor.

Elder Tomas tallied the total on the piece of parchment he held in his hands, squinting to focus in the poor candle light. ‘So, two mirrors lost – completely destroyed, the latest batch of the
ateb had been stolen. My Lord’s torc, the blessed Chronicles, seven dragons are missing, the female Helgi, Afagddu and Madog are both missing, presumed dead or worse.’ He inhaled before continuing with his list. ‘We have twenty-six Druids dead – a swelling to the Helgi
ranks, seventy-three injured, one dead Chosen and of course, the terrible loss of Artio of the Pride.’ He rolled the parchment and tucked it under his arm. ‘There is also the damage caused. Three floors are damaged and dangerous, we have two gaping holes in the side of the mountain which will require a constructed rockslide to hide before it is seen – thank goodness for the snow, it keeps the walkers away.’ He shook his head.

‘Bran will see to the rockslides tomorrow, he will also oversee the reconstruction of the damaged levels.’ Aeron brushed a hand across his brow. ‘See the new
Helgi are sent to Dduallt. There is nothing I can do for the loss of the Chosen, but he will be remembered on All Hallows Eve.’

Elder Tomas nodded, reluctant to broach the subject. ‘My Lord, what of the Morgans? They and another Chosen – a respected Chosen Elder are still in the guest rooms. May I send them on their way?’

Aeron squinted his eyes, weighing the request. ‘You think it wise, Councillor?’

Elder Tomas chose his words carefully. ‘What else can we do? The Morgans have a funeral to arrange as well as attend another – the Chosen we lost through the mirror. We cannot exactly keep them locked up here.’ He spread his hands. ‘Let the Morgans return to their farm under strict instructions that Anwen is not to vanish again – she is better there to see out her pregnancy than in these old Halls, and it keeps her separated from Taliesin.’

Aeron pursed his lips, not persuaded. Elder Tomas added, ‘I could station Seekers on the boundaries of the farm – for the Morgans’ protection – I would not like any harm to come to the prince’s unborn child.’ Elder Tomas dropped his head, praying that Aeron would see sense.

Aeron shook his head. ‘No. The men can return. The girl is to remain with the Pride – again for her own safety. The men may visit her whenever they wish, but for now she remains here.’

‘And if the girl decides to leave?’ Elder Tomas tipped his head to one side. ‘She can after all use the Cerdd Carega.’

‘Then she will be brought back – dragged if necessary – see she understands.’ Aeron was adamant.

Elder Tomas bowed. ‘As you command.’

‘Is there anything else?’ Aeron was growing jaded and was keen to return to the Bwy Hir.

‘One more thing,’ Elder Tomas replied, ‘the
Dderwydd Ddrych
– are they now safe? Can we begin to use them again?’

Aeron had been wondering the same thing. ‘I must speak with Celyn-Bach after his vigil. Not all in
y Gwag could have been tainted … there must be pure souls still there … leave it with me, Councillor.’

Elder Tomas gave one final bow before retreating into the main chamber where was nearly bowled over by a young Druid initiate. ‘Elder Tomas!’ he cried, ‘They’ve gone!’

‘Who has gone?’ Elder Tomas feared the answer. His heart sank as he felt Aeron breathing down his neck. ‘Do you mean the Morgans?’ The young initiate nodded dumbly.

‘What is this?’ Mab called over from the fireplace.

Aeron answered her gruffly. ‘The girl has gone along with the Chosen men.’

Mab stood and strolled towards the Druids, the Bwy Hir watched with interest. ‘It is of no concern, Aeron,’ she said, smiling reassuringly, ‘I can trace her wherever she goes and it is better she is at her home with her family than wandering around these Halls.’ Aeron scowled but Mab continued, ‘She is not beyond our reach, Aeron, I assure you, and when the time comes she will need the Pride to deliver the child safely.’

‘And then what?’ Taliesin interrupted curtly. ‘Then what, mother?’ he demanded.

Mab turned slowly towards her son, the room was silent as her angry gaze fell on Taliesin. ‘And then my son, the child will be delivered to the Pride.’

Taliesin’s face flushed angrily as he stood defiantly in front of his mother. ‘And what of Anwen? What will become of her?’

Mab flicked a glance towards Aeron before sternly answering her son. ‘Taliesin, Anwen Morgan is Human. Despite the Triskele above her ear,’ she said, scowling at Gwrnach, ‘she is not Bwy Hir, nor a member of the Pride. The child is Hanner-Bridia and therefore belongs to us. The outside world is no place for a child with special abilities; you must see our existence should remain hidden from the Lost. Anwen Morgan
will
surrender the child.’ Taliesin was crushed but Mab felt no sympathy for her son. She turned back towards Aeron. ‘Send your Seekers and Helgi to keep an eye on the Morgans if you wish, but she can be left alone for now, there is time before the birth and we have more urgent concerns – Arawn being foremost.’

Elder Tomas looked to Aeron and he gave a brisk nod. Elder Tomas bowed as did the initiate as he was pushed towards the door by Tomas’ hand. ‘I will see to it.’ Taliesin glared at his father and mother before leaving behind the Druids, slamming the door behind him.

‘It seems my son has developed a temper to match his father’s.’ Mab’s wry smile permitted the other Bwy Hir to titter and whisper amongst themselves. Aeron grunted before taking a seat by the fireplace.

‘What did your Councillor report?’ Bran came to sit beside Aeron, handing him a goblet of wine which Aeron gratefully accepted. ‘Many Druids dead and injured, damaged hallways and a dead Chosen too,’ Aeron said sighing, ‘at least the mirrors are quiet. Do you think it is over, Bran?’

Bran shrugged his shoulders. ‘If you’re asking whether the mirrors are safe then I think Celyn-Bach will be the one to answer that.’ He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘If you are asking whether we have heard the last of Arawn, then my answer is no – I believe this is just the beginning.’

‘Why?’ Aeron slammed his fist on the arm of the chair in an explosion of frustrated anger. ‘Was Afagddu in league with him or merely a hapless aid? Why has Arawn risen now? What are his plans? Why come into the lands of the living?’

When Bran spoke, his voice was low and tinged with uneasiness. ‘He made a vow, Aeron, just before his death, all know the tale. Could he be here to fulfil that promise?’

Aeron’s face was stone as he absorbed Bran’s words.  Arawn’s last breath on earth was at the R’hela on the slopes of Gelli. The great Bwy Hir, Artur Pendragon himself had dealt the final death blow to the Horned King of Cymru, taking the torc from his neck and declaring himself King of the Winter Realm. Arawn’s crime had been the murder of Artur’s much loved sister Catrin when she refused to become his queen.

The R’hela had been the most brutal and furious of all the R’hela. Druids, Seekers and Chosen had aided in the merciless hunt for Arawn as he fled through the vales until he was finally surrounded on Mount Gelli as he sought his escape through the Cerdd Carega.

As the circle of the Triskele closed in around him baying for blood and as Artur Pendragon swept into the circle to meet out his justice, Arawn made a vow: One day he would return and crush the Triskele utterly.

‘Arawn must be found and sent back to y Gwag and Atgas must join him.’ Aeron gripped his goblet as he spoke through gritted teeth.

‘And we shall see it so,’ Mab soothed, ‘but not this night. Rest Aeron, you will need your strength for the days ahead.’

‘Rest.’ Aeron tasted the word and found it sour. ‘And what of the Pride? You should all be asleep. Do you not need to rest?’

‘Indeed we do,’ Mab said, her shoulders slumped, ‘we all strain to keep our eyes open … where shall we rest?’

Aeron thought for a moment. ‘Take the Host’s sleeping chamber for now and they can stay in mine. We can arrange something more permanent in the morning.’

Mab raised her eyebrows. ‘Aeron, you cannot think we shall stay here?’ She shook her head. ‘The Pride will return to the Dell as soon as prudent.’

‘In Winter?’ Aeron replied, ‘You will all freeze to death, and who will be there to protect you?’

‘In the Dell I shall make it Summer.’ Mab straightened her spine. ‘And the
Tylwyth Teg will be there to keep us from harm, none may raise a hand in violence in the Dell, the Tylwyth Teg will not allow it.’

‘Much good it did Artio.’ Aeron regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the Pride swivelled their heads to frown at the slight. ‘I apologise. I should not have said that … you do as you see fit, let us discuss it further tomorrow.’

Mab bit her lip and nodded. ‘We shall retire to the Host’s chambers for the evening. Good night.’ She stood and the Pride stood with her, parading out of Aeron’s chambers with their heads held high.

‘So.’ Cadno sauntered over and sat in Mab’s vacant chair with a smirk set on his face. ‘Do we gamble for your bed tonight?’

Aeron was in no mood for jokes. ‘There is no need Cadno, for none of the Host shall sleep this night. We commence our plans to find Arawn.’

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Dafydd, Gwyn, Anwen and Bara were all sitting in front of the fire at Ty Mawr sipping hot tea. All the doors were bolted shut and the door to the front room had received extra nails and a protection rune had been drawn on the door exactly as Glyn-Guinea had described. No-one was getting in or out of the house without Dafydd’s say so.

He still couldn’t believe they’d made it out of Maen-Du without a fight. Anwen had been magnificent, she had pulled her hair back to display the Triskele tattoo above her ear and demanded the young Druid guarding the door fetch the physician immediately, complaining she had pains in her stomach and “woe betide the Druids should anything happen to her unborn child.” That had sent the Druid scurrying away to fetch the physician and that gave them their chance.

Anwen had led them with her head held high straight down the staircase and into the Reception Hall. Her arrogant, determined walk had drawn no notice and none had stopped to challenge them; they had simply walked up to a Cerdd Carega and they were gone.

Dafydd hadn’t been prepared for the terrible sensation of travelling through a Cerdd Carega and Glyn-Guinea had fared no better. They had both been violently sick when they arrived on the edge of Gwydir forest, but Gwyn and Anwen had assured them the second time was never as bad – not that Dafydd had any intention of finding out.

Glyn-Guinea had wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, thanked Anwen for the transportation and instructed Dafydd how to draw a rune before he had waved them goodbye and stomped off in the snow and darkness “to be about Elder business.”

Anwen had nearly fainted when she took her first step away from the
Cerdd Carega towards home. Dafydd and Gwyn had practically carried her back to Ty Mawr and set her on the sofa, covering her with warm blankets and smothering her with affection and concern and setting a blazing fire to warm the room.

Dafydd had then set about drawing the curtains and securing the house while Gwyn rummaged in the kitchen, preparing sandwiches and tea, and so they all sat huddled together, listening to the hallway clock ticking and the crackling of logs in the fire, all wrapped in their own thoughts. Bara lay in front of the fire gently snoring, content her pack was reunited.

Clinging to her tea mug and watching the fire Anwen voiced her thoughts. ‘Do you think they’ll come for me?’ Her voice was quiet, distant.

‘They can bloody try.’ Dafydd set his jaw and Anwen smiled despite her predicament. It was good to have her father and Gwyn protecting her. The silence stretched and Anwen snuggled deeper in her blanket, appreciating its warmth until another thought came to her, a darker thought, one of Nerys. ‘Did Nerys suffer, Dad? Did he hurt her bad?’

Dafydd sighed, blowing air into his cheeks. ‘I don’t know Anwen … best not think of it. He’ll suffer worse than Nerys did, all at the R’hela will see to that.’

‘No.’ Anwen continued staring into the flames. ‘No, he won’t. He won’t be there, not really.’

‘What d’ya mean, he won’t?’ Gwyn asked doubtfully. ‘Who told you that?’

‘No-one.’ Anwen continued staring into the fire, watching as the flames danced along the logs. ‘I just know – I don’t know how – I just know ...’ She dragged her eyes away and turned to her father. His face was a mask of concern. ‘Sorry, Dad.’ Anwen tried to smile. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m so tired. Ignore me.’

They were all tired and needed to sleep, but nobody wanted to leave the fire and go upstairs to a cold, lonely bed. ‘Tell you what,’ Dafydd said, heaving himself off his chair, ‘the house is so cold that we should all sleep in here tonight – I’ll go grab some more blankets.’

Anwen was relieved, she didn’t wanted to sleep alone, not tonight. Gwyn pretended that the house was too cold to sleep anywhere else but in front of the fire, but Anwen guessed he felt the same as she did – they all needed to be together tonight.

Dafydd returned laden with wool blankets and pillows from the beds, he placed them on the arm of the sofa and retook his seat. ‘Yes, we’ll stay in here – just for tonight though – let the house warm up through the night and tomorrow everything will be back to normal.’

‘Will it?’ Anwen spoke through a yawn. ‘I don’t think anything will ever be normal again.’ She smiled sadly as she pulled a pillow under her head and pulled her blanket over her shoulders, tucking it under her chin as she closed her eyes. ‘Night, Dad. Night Gwyn.’

‘Night Anwen,’ the men chorused as they took a pillow and blanket and began to settle down. Dafydd made his makeshift bed in his favourite chair, using a footstool to hold his legs. Gwyn took the floor, cuddling next to Bara in front of the fire. Anwen was already asleep as Dafydd turned off the lamp. The glow of the fire spread its warmth into the room and Dafydd was relieved to be home; thankful to have his children back together, but as he closed his eyes a jumble of images flooded his mind: Bryn-Wisgi’s frightened face, Nerys’ mauled torso, the Triskele tattoo on the side of Anwen’s head and most frightening of all was the merciless laugh of Afagddu, Druid, murderer. ‘You will pay,’ Dafydd mumbled in his troubled sleep.

Gwyn opened his eyes and rolled onto his back as he listened to his father’s dark mutterings. Gwyn was too tired to sleep, too worried to drift off into a dreamless sleep and he was frightened of the images that came to mind when he closed his eyes.

He absently scratched Bara’s ears as he stared at the ceiling, running through the events of the last few months in his head. Flashes of memory flooded through his mind, accompanied by snatches of conversations and fleeting lurches of emotions: fear, happiness, anger, confusion.  He signed as he turned back over onto his side and rested his arm over Bara, feeling her warm, thick fur envelop his skin. Closing his eyes he wondered what tomorrow would bring. Despite his father’s reassurances, Gwyn was sure that whatever happened, it would be far from normal.

The tick-tock of the grandfather clock and the slow burning of logs to cinders marked the passage of the night, as did the padding of
Helgi paws that crunched through the snow swathed fields of the Morgans’ farm, watching, waiting. Their Seeker waited by the farm house, concealed in shadows as he too watched and waited until dawn.