The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (69 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Glyn-Guinea cupped his hands to his mouth and leaned back. ‘Awel!’ he yelled for the umpteenth time. ‘Awel!’ He coughed as his voice caught in his throat and leaned against the Cerdd Carega to catch his breath.

It was nearly dark and not a time to be standing alone in the middle of the forest yelling loud enough for every
Bradychwr
in a five mile radius to hear him. At least it wasn’t raining – yet – the clouds above the canopy looked ominously dark and brooding.

He lifted his hands again and yelled, ‘For the love of light, Awel Chan y Bant, will you answer me?’

A flash of blue-white light sent him reeling backwards from the Cerdd Carega. When his vision cleared he saw Taliesin looming over him. ‘What are you doing – is that you Elder Glyn Williams?’

Glyn-Guinea straightened his waistcoat, gave a short bow and looked up at Taliesin with indignation. ‘Well, it took long enough to get an answer,’ he grumbled. ‘Where is Awel?’

‘Awel is in council with my mother and father.’ Taliesin tipped his head to one side. ‘What is wrong?’

Glyn-Guinea pulled his pipe from his pocket and jammed it between his teeth. ‘Everything is wrong. I need to speak with Awel immediately.’

‘She is in council,’ Taliesin replied patiently. ‘I can pass a message on.’

‘It will be too late.’ Glyn-Guinea stepped up to Taliesin and looked up. ‘I need to see her before it’s too late. The mirrors – they’re making a huge mistake.’

‘The mirrors are making a mistake?’ Taliesin was confused.

Glyn-Guinea shook his head irritably. ‘No. The Druids. I must speak with Awel. Please, Prince Taliesin, I
need
to speak to her.’

Taliesin stared down at the insistent little man. ‘Can it not wait?’

Glyn-Guinea huffed and puffed on his pipe. ‘It can’t wait.’ A distant howl echoed through the forest. Glyn-Guinea looked over his shoulder. ‘No. It really can’t wait.’

Taliesin looked in the direction of the solitary howl that was soon answered by a second howl further away in the distance. ‘Come.’ He offered his hand to Glyn-Guinea. ‘It is not safe for you to be out in the forest alone.’  Glyn-Guinea gripped onto Taliesin’s hand and they vanished together in a blaze of light.

Glyn-Guinea was kneeling down in the dewy grass desperately trying not to retch as Taliesin towered patiently above him. ‘Are you well enough to walk?’

Glyn-Guinea screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth to hold his pipe in place. ‘In a moment,’ he wheezed, ‘just let me catch my breath.’

Their arrival had sparked interest. Taliesin watched as Celyn-Bach trotted over the grass from the fire-pit. ‘Ho, Taliesin!’ he called. ‘Who do you have there? Another Human?’

Glyn-Guinea raised his head and fought another surge of sickness. ‘My Lord,’ he croaked, ‘the mirrors.’

Celyn-Bach knelt down in front of the man and peered into his face. ‘I know you,’ he said with kindness and concern, ‘You were at the meeting with Elder Nissyen. What is wrong? Are the mirrors in danger?’

‘Not from Ysbrydion.’ Glyn-Guinea inhaled deeply. ‘The Druids, they plan to salt the mirrors at midnight, but it’s a mistake.’

Celyn-Bach and Taliesin exchanged concerned glances. ‘What do you mean? The salting process will ensure safe travel through the
Dderwydd Ddrych once more. What could be the danger?’

Glyn-Guinea shook his head. ‘No. No. It will destroy the magic. Ask the Gwrachod. Ask Awel. I know I’m right!’

Celyn-Bach was taken aback by the little man’s passion and concern. Could he be right? ‘Better safe than sorry, Taliesin. Take our friend to warm by the fire, I will seek out Aeron and Awel.’ He patted Glyn-Guinea on his shoulder and loped back towards the centre of the Dell before veering off to his left. Taliesin helped Glyn-Guinea to his feet and slowly ushered him towards the firelight in the distance. ‘It is lucky for you a Gwiddon is here among us, they may help your argument.’

Glyn-Guinea stopped in his tracks and let out an audible moan. ‘Which witch?’

‘I believe her name is
Gwenllian Gwiddon.’

Glyn-Guinea groaned and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, great,’ he said flatly.

‘You are both acquainted, Elder Glyn Williams?’ Taliesin was confused by Glyn-Guinea’s reluctant behaviour.

‘Yes.’ Glyn-Guinea dragged his feet as he followed Taliesin towards the centre of the Dell. ‘Gwenllian Gwiddon is my sister. My big sister.’

‘Then you will be well met?’ Taliesin smiled cheerfully.

‘If you say so.’ Glyn-Guinea slowly took the pipe from his mouth and secreted it in his pocket. Gwenllian never had liked him smoking. Taliesin was more confused than ever but left it unvoiced.

They made their way together following the path that led to a shaded hollow among the trees. Glyn-Guinea was in awe as he raised his head to gaze at the dozens of lanterns swinging idly from boughs and branches that formed a lush canopy over the central fire pit that flickered and danced as white smoke twined up through the treetops to vanish into the darkening sky.

Taliesin offered Glyn-Guinea a seat by the fire and as he sat down one of the Tylwyth Teg appeared at his elbow with
a small tray carrying two glasses of wine. His jaw dropped open as he shakily accepted the proffered glass. This was the stuff of fairy tales, much more than Men and Mirrors, this was folklore made real: this place was magical.

‘I never dreamed,’ Glyn-Guinea whispered, ‘of a place so enchanted.’

Taliesin smiled. ‘Not many Humans are given entrance to the Dell. This place is where the Pride have made their home, but it is the domain of Tylwyth Teg, it truly belongs to them.’

‘All the Pride are here?’ Glyn-Guinea looked around the deserted hollow
. ‘Am I allowed to be here?’

Taliesin chuckled
. ‘That remains to be seen, but better here than out there alone in the forest, the night is no longer safe.’

Glyn-Guinea felt like a trespasser, an interloper, unworthy of being in such a magical domain as the Dell. He looked around him furtively; the Tylwyth Teg had vanished leaving just the two of them to share the warmth of the fire.

Taliesin tapped Glyn-Guinea’s elbow and they rose together as Awel swept into the hollow. Her eyes flashed with ire and Glyn-Guinea took an involuntary step backwards.

‘May the light spare me from the stupidity of men!’ she came to a stop in front of Glyn-Guinea and leaned on her staff
. ‘Come with me, time is running short.’ She spun on her heel, her cloak billowing out behind her as she hurried back up the pathway.

Glyn-Guinea trotted behind her, his heart racing and his hand itching to slip his pipe from his pocket. Taliesin walked steadily behind them, easily keeping up with Awel’s urgent pace. She led them to a clearing where a grand
, richly embroidered silk tent dominated the centre. It was held aloft by stout hazel poles braced with barley coloured ropes and staked into the ground with copper pickets. Pale cream roses and creeping ivy wound their way around the guy ropes, thorny bushes stood guard on three sides and small scented flowers stood in clumps around the pathway that led to the entrance lit by two flaming torches driven into the ground. ‘Come.’ Awel stalked towards the tent, pulled the door flap aside and beckoned them inside with her staff.

Glyn-Guinea’s footsteps faltered as he stepped inside. The pavilion was enormous and richly adorned with woven carpets covering the floor and silk tapestries decorating the walls, but what caused him to catch his breath were the Bwy Hir themselves all collected together, some standing, some sitting, others reclining amongst embroidered cushions, but all were staring at him with a mixture of mild interest, impatience or curiosity.

In the centre of the gathering Aeron and Mab were sitting side by side. Aeron was sitting on the floor with his legs outstretched, his elbow resting on a cushion. Mab was kneeling with her legs to one side holding a silver goblet with bejewelled fingers. Mab gave a welcoming smile but Aeron wore a scowl.

Awel pushed Glyn-Guinea into the centre of the large carpet that decorated the centre of the pavilion. ‘May I present Elder Glyn Williams of the Chosen.’ Glyn-Guinea bowed to Mab and Aeron.

‘I am already acquainted with this man.’ Aeron’s voice was monotone. ‘Why have you come?’

Glyn-Guinea cleared his throat
. ‘The mirrors, my Lord.’

‘And what about them?’ He leaned forward
. ‘The process is by my command.’

Glyn-Guinea swallowed hard. He hadn’t anticipated making his petition to Aeron himself, he had hoped to speak to Awel so she could intercede on his behalf. Grateful
, she took the opportunity to do just that.

‘This Chosen man comes because he is faithful to the Bwy Hir.’ She threw a scowl at Aeron
. ‘Do not admonish him for his dedication.’ Aeron leaned back with a dismissive grunt.

Awel addressed the assembly
. ‘The Host and the Druids have taken it upon themselves to undertake an enterprise that they believe will purge the Dderwydd Ddrych of the blight of the Ysbrydion.’ Murmured approval rippled through the Host. The Pride remained silent. ‘And yet this man,’ she said, spreading her hand towards the small figure shuffling awkwardly under their scrutiny, ‘comes to us with his great unease at such an undertaking.’

‘And what qualifies him to an opinion on the matter?’ Aeron drawled.

She spoke to Glyn-Guinea but kept her eyes fixed on Aeron. ‘Elder Glyn Williams of the Chosen, would you be so kind as to show us your torso?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ he stammered.

‘Your torso, if you would be so kind.’

Glyn-Guinea hastily unbuttoned his waistcoat. ‘I’m not one of them bloody Bradychwr.’ He grumbled as he fumbled with the last of his shirt buttons before pulling his shirt open to reveal his tattooed chest.

‘Ah.’ The Pride intoned their understanding together and Awel smiled smugly.

‘The Chosen who stands before you bares a greater understanding of the lore of earth bound magics: He is the son of the
Gwrachod.’

Aeron accepted defeat
. ‘Let us hear your concerns, Chosen, Son of the Gwrachod. Why should the mirrors not be salted?’

A collective intake of breath
came from the Pride. They had obviously not been fully informed of the details of the proposed purging. Awel waved them to silence.

‘Well …’ Glyn-Guinea rubbed his chin. ‘The way I see it is that
salting is a mistake – I know that spirits dislike salt – so I can see where the thought came from, but salting a mirror – a magic mirror, well, I think that you’re going to cause more harm than good.’

‘That’s it?’ Aeron spluttered incredulously. ‘That is your argument?’

‘He is correct.’ A small voice called out, the author making herself known by stepping up beside her brother. Gwenllian stood with her head held high and addressed the whole gathering.

‘Since time immemorial, the
Gwrachod have used salt in the preparation of spells and in the purification of our instruments, our books of magic are littered with the application and usage of salt – it is a corner stone of our arts – and yet, there is danger with using such a seemly harmless earthbound element.’ She cast a warning eye over the gathering. ‘Salt
will
purify but it will also corrode. Salt
will
cleanse but it is also a conductor. Salt, despite being a conductor, will also dull magic, and it will bind!’ She wagged a gnarled finger. ‘A Human or animal can pass through a witch’s circle but a Bwy Hir? An Eternal Spirit? “A ring of salt to bind the spirit.” The mirrors will be as closed to you as they are to the Ysbrydion.’ She concluded, fixing Aeron with a glare. ‘The Druids have grown arrogant in their role as Keepers of the mirrors and in their conceit they are about to cast a death blow to the Triskele.’

Aeron sat bolt upright, anger lacing his voice
. ‘What does the Gwrachod
know of the Triskele? They are no part of the three!’ Spittle flew from his lips. ‘Dare
you stand before me and condemn the Druids for their loyalty?’

Gwenllian was unbending in the face of the tirade. ‘The Gwrachod were the makers of the mirrors as equally as were the Druids and the Bwy Hir!’ She lifted her chin
. ‘We may not be part of the Triskele but we are still faithful – we still watch and wait!’

‘Enough!’ Mab was on her feet
. ‘Peace. Peace I say!’

Gwenllian snapped her jaw closed as Glyn-Guinea’s dropped open. Aeron threw himself back on his pillows, silently fuming.

Mab daintily lifted the hem of her flowing robes and stepped into the circle. ‘Take a seat, my friends.’

Awel ushered Gwenllian and Glyn-Guinea to one side as Mab smoothed her dress and gathered her thoughts. The Bwy Hir waited patiently for her reflections.

‘Time grows short … Chaos, disorder, distrust and turmoil have wormed their way into our hearts and left us bereft of grace and integrity.’ She turned to Aeron. ‘We are one, Aeron. A mighty oak of many branches, we must rise up together or be felled to lay rotting in broken shards upon the ground. We must come together and strike at the darkness that creeps ever closer, the darkness that threatens to swallow us one by one until nothing remains, not the Chosen nor Druid, Host nor Pride, man nor woman nor child, nothing will remain.