The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (74 page)

‘Atgas and Cadno have been located together
… Their location is Llyn Idwal.’ The Pride grew still, their eyes wide in alarm. Until now the exact location of the Lair had been kept a secret, it was their private sanctuary, only accessed through the Cerdd Carega in the Dell and only by females – until now.

‘Arawn’s den has been found. The Seekers have found one entrance: a mirror stolen from the vaults of Maen-Du and re
paired, hidden in a cave with the Host’s missing dragons and the Bradychwr who chose to serve Arawn and guard the cave – I hope the area is now in our control?’ An affirming nod from the Seeker was acknowledged before she continued.

‘So we now control that entrance and yet this was not the only entrance
… To Arawn and his Wraith Warriors entrance and exit could be gained through the underside of the lake via y Gwag, but that was before – now, Arawn no longer assumes command of the Ysbrydion, he no longer controls their focus – he is on the outside.

‘When he first reared his ugly head, he commanded the host of Ysbrydion and focused an attack on the Halls of
Maen-Du – not the Chosen homes – he focused them all on Maen-Du. With the Ysbrydion concentrated on the Halls it gave him and Atgas ample time to negotiate y Gwag and steel into his den. He and Atgas no longer have that luxury: the Ysbrydion are leaderless and angry, anyone who steps foot into y Gwag will be set upon, including Arawn himself, he is after all part Human now and full of blood.

‘The third exit via the Cerdd Carega is here in the Dell.’ A spark of understanding lit the Host’s eyes. ‘But this is no longer so; we presume the Cerdd Carega on the other side to be destroyed.’ She turned in a slow circle to include all observers, ‘Arawn is cornered.’ She smiled in triumph
. ‘He is trapped.’

A ripple of excitement and relief spread through the hollow; Arawn had trapped himself away from the world, he was out of harm’s way; no longer a threat.

‘Do not be so quick to cheer our good fortune.’ Aeron’s cold voice silenced the merriment. ‘You came late to our assembly, Awel, you did not hear all the Seeker had to say.’ He leaned forward on his dais and fixed her with an intense stare, ‘Not only does Arawn have Atgas in his company, he also has Wraith Warriors, Turncoat Druids, Helgi and Cwn Annwn at his disposal … He also has a number of prisoners, Chosen among them, and reports say he has Cadno imprisoned. If he succeeds in convincing Cadno to surrender his body, then Arawn will be Bwy Hir and will come to claim his throne.

‘Furthermore, if the late Elder Nissyen’s research is correct then it is only a matter of time before the strongest Ysbrydion devour the weaker and then Arawn will have more Wraith Warriors to add to his army
– strong, determined warriors. Y Gwag will quieten and Arawn will have his way out. Make no mistake Awel, he is not trapped, he is merely cornered and will come out fighting.’

Awel didn’t hesitate in her response. ‘Then our course is plotted: take the fight to him. Open the mirror and release the Ysbrydion, denying Arawn his warriors. Enter his den and destroy him, destroy Atgas and send his Wraith Warriors back to where they belong. We must strike him while he is cornered.’

‘Awel speaks sense.’ Bran flexed his heavily muscled arms as he folded them across his chest. ‘We should strike him now while we have a chance, while he is at his weakest.’

‘You think it will be that easy?’ Mab’s voice was cool and calculated
. ‘You forget his ally. Atgas will not go down without a fight and she is powerful, very powerful and merciless. Whoever steps through that mirror will face her full fury: it will be a blood bath.’

A heaviness hung over the hollow, a silent suspense that muted the tongue and prejudiced minds and judgement to inaction.

Awel broke the silence, her voice hushed and low. ‘There is more I would add to this debate, although I would request that my words are for yours and Aeron’s ears alone.’

Mab opened her mouth to speak but Aeron cut her off
. ‘We are one, Awel, the Triskele is united in a summit and there should be no secrets between us. If you have something to add then you must address us all.’

Awel looked to Mab who gave a tight, vexed nod. ‘So be it.’ Awel drew herself up to her full height and raised her voice for all to hear
. ‘The Morgans of Ty Mawr Farm return to us. They arrive at nightfall. If Arawn should capture them, all will be lost. That is why I implore you to take the fight to Arawn’s door; keep him pinned down until I can bring them safely here.’

Taliesin was on his feet, his back to the crowd as he faced his parents, he spoke in urgent, hushed tones, his body stiff and his gestures insistent. Behind him the crowd murmured and shifted, disquieted by the turn of events. Rumours, gossip and perplexity had covered the Morgans like a shroud; some knew the truth, some guessed the truth and some did not know nor understand who Anwen Morgan was, nor the importance of her son – Taliesin’s son
– the only Hanner-Bridia in existence.

‘Enough!’ Aeron barked with a vicious snarl
. ‘Enough!’ He stood to tower over his son and the gathered assembly. ‘I call a recess.’ He growled as he stepped down from the dais and stalked up the pathway that led towards the pavilions. Taliesin ran to catch up with his father while Awel waited behind for Mab to make a dignified, slow withdrawal. Celyn-Bach slipped away to speak with Gwrnach.

Clusters formed and heads drew together in whispering knots. Refreshments had been laid out on the wall surrounding the fire pit but of the Tylwyth Teg there was no sign; they had vanished on silent feet and their absence had not yet been noted.

Gwenllian scanned the crowd, bobbing up and down until she found whom she sought. Glyn-Guinea was sitting alone, away from the crowds, puffing on his pipe and casting a cautious eye over the milling throng. ‘There you are,’ she said, as she sat down with a wince, her bonds were aching: there was a storm brewing.

‘So the cat is out of the bag then.’ Glyn-Guinea puffed on his pipe, inhaling the smoke before exhaling it through his clenched teeth. ‘When do they return?’

‘Nightfall.’ Gwenllian gave him a disapproving glare as the pipe smoke drifted in her direction.

‘How?’ Glyn-Guinea ignored her displeasure and inhaled again.

‘Shouldn’t you be asking Awel this?’ She wafted a hand in front of her face.

‘I’m asking you.’ Inhale. Exhale.

Gwenllian pursed her lips. ‘Alright then. How: Cerdd Carega.’

‘I thought they were all being watched?’

‘Most are, but this Anwen Morgan is a saucy one and no mistake, she’s using the old Cristion ones, even Awel hadn’t thought about using them as they are so long forgotten.’

Glyn-Guinea remained stone-faced, aware that some of the Druids were looking in his direction. ‘Where will she arrive?’

Gwenllian followed Glyn-Guinea’s eyes and lowered her voice. ‘The old church in Llanrhychwyn, near Trefriw, on the edge of Gwydir Forest.’

Glyn-Guinea pulled his pipe from his mouth and inspected the bowl
. ‘They’ll never make it from there to here. Arawn may or may not be temporarily trapped, but he’s got too many damned followers on the outside lurking in every nook and cranny ready to pounce, not to mention every Druid on
our
side ordered to keep an eye out for her, add to that all the Chosen who were offered their weight in gold to find her … they don’t stand a chance.’

‘Awel will protect them.’

Glyn-Guinea tapped the bowl of his pipe on his boot and then crushed the smouldering tobacco underfoot. ‘Even if they make it back here in one piece, what happens when the threat of Arawn is over? What happens to them then?’

‘I don’t follow.’ Gwenllian did follow; she had wondered the same thing herself.

‘Better for the Bwy Hir, for the Triskele, if they didn’t exist, eh?’

Gwenllian heaved a sigh
. ‘But they do exist. Who would dare break the Triskele oath? As I understand it, Anwen Morgan and her child are of Human
and
Bwy Hir blood, no branch of the Triskele can harm them without breaking their oaths.’

Glyn-Guinea slowly turned his head so he could look Gwenllian directly in the eye
. ‘The
Sisters of
the Gwrachod have no such oath and their absence from this summit is conspicuous to say the least, especially as they were personally invited by the Bwy Hir.’

‘You think we would murder?’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Our oaths are to wait and watch and when the time comes we will offer shelter and protection to those bound to the Triskele. That is our oath and that is why the Gwrachod have not taken part in this summit. We watch and wait. We do not meddle in the fate of the Triskele; we instead are bound to pick up the pieces after you’ve cocked it up for yourselves.’ Her voice rose angrily, causing a number of heads to turn in their direction, but she ploughed on regardless. ‘Mind your tongue when you speak of the Gwrachod, Chosen Elder Glyn Williams, lest you end up biting it off!’

She heaved herself to her feet and stormed off towards Awel’s tent. Glyn-Guinea kept his eyes focused on his pipe as he fished in his pockets to refill the bowl, refusing to meet the interested glances of some of the Chosen and Druids. He didn’t know whether he believed Gwenllian or not, but he needed to get out of the Dell and be at the church when the Morgans arrived. He struck a match and lit the tobacco, using the cloud of smoke as a screen as he weighed up his options.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Reverend
Morgan clutched his Bible as he was escorted back to the pens by the rough guard who seemed to delight in the prisoner’s fear and misery. It was the same guard as always, the one who simpered and cowered when the one called Atgas arrived with her perverse sneer and sharp knives, until she was gone and then he would return to the pens to leer through the bars, his unfortunate pockmarked face pinched in malice.

‘Hurry up,’ the guard growled as he shoved
Reverend Morgan in the back causing him to stumble along the shadowy path. ‘I’ve got better things to do than escort you back and forth all day.’

Reverend
Morgan clutched his Bible tighter to his chest and offered up a silent prayer for forgiveness for what he was about to do. He had it all planned in his mind, just as the imprisoned Bwy-Hir-Nephilim-Man-Being had suggested. His heart beat so loud in his own ears he was afraid the guard would hear it and suspect his plan, but the guard seemed impervious as he once again shoved Reverend Morgan forward.

They were nearing the candlelit circle that confined the fox-like Nephilim within with some kind of black magic or dark power. The Nephilim was st
anding at the edge of the circle, watching their approach along the path that skirted between the circle and an outcrop of low rock that had shed its face to leave the pathway strewn with small boulders and stones that would twist the ankle or stub the toe of one unfortunate to be caught off guard. This is where Reverend Morgan intended to execute his plot.

Taking a deep steadying breath
Reverend Morgan counted down his footsteps; five, four, three, two, one. With a cry he threw himself face first to the floor.

The guard stopped in his tracks
. ‘Get up,’ he ordered with a resigned voice.

‘I can’t!’
Reverend Morgan rolled and riled on the ground. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle. I think it might be broken.’

The guard rolled his eyes
. ‘Get up,’ he ordered again and kicked at Reverend Morgan’s upturned bottom.

‘You must help me up!’
Reverend Morgan had got to his hands and knees, his head hung low and his voice wretched.

‘Oh, for
God’s sake.’ The guard leaned down and grabbed Reverend Morgan’s left forearm roughly, pulling him upwards. Reverend Morgan swung his right arm, there was a dull cracking sound and the guard crumpled to the floor.

Cadno watched on with a mixture of disbelief and pleasure.
Reverend Morgan stood over the still form of the guard. ‘Oh, did I kill him?’ he whispered over to Cadno who stood on his vantage point looking up and down the pathway for any sign of movement.

‘I do hope so.’ Cadno grinned
. ‘Why did you hit him?’

‘Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?’
Reverend Morgan’s eyes were as wide as they would open.

‘No, but I consider it well done.’ Cadno checked up and down the pathway before continuing
. ‘I wanted you to throw a stone so it landed on the white line of the circle, so I could break it and thus escape.’

‘Oh.’
Reverend Morgan stood immobile, the rock he had struck the guard with swinging weightily in his hand.

‘The stone?’ Cadno suggested urgently
. ‘I need the stone.’

Reverend
Morgan scrambled up the incline with the rock in his hand. Cadno squatted down on the edge of his prison. ‘Now, just slide the stone along the ground until it’s resting on the white line.’ Reverend Morgan did as he was instructed and the invisible barrier hissed and crackled.

‘Now what?’
Reverend Morgan asked, his shocked face and trembling hands lit by the soft glow of the candles.

Cadno was torn for a moment; he hadn’t planned on rescuing the other prisoners, he had intended to steal the female Helgi and slip away through the mirror without so much as a backward glance, but the little Cristion
’s actions had changed that.

He spoke softly and urgently to
Reverend Morgan, ‘First, drag the guard off the pathway and hide him, then quietly and I truly mean quietly, release your fellow prisoners. Remain at the pens until I come for you unless you see fire and lightning flying, in which case, you are to flee to the mirror and save yourselves.’

Reverend
Morgan nodded mutely and Cadno raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to take action. ‘You need to go now.’

‘Oh, yes, yes.’
Reverend Morgan slithered back down the incline, grabbed the guard by his ankles and slowly, laboriously dragged him behind the outcrop of rock before removing the ring of keys from his belt and skulking off towards the pens.

Cadno focused his attention on the stone lying on the powdery boundary of his prison. It was positioned perfectly, completely covering the line and projecting over just enough for Cadno to lay two fingers upon its smooth rounded edge. He closed his eyes and focused on the nature of the stone, feeling its form and structure, its strength and the weakness within.
Click
. The stone split in two, Cadno smiled and slid the two halves apart, forming a gap between them and thus breaking the circle to form a neat doorway.

He calmly stood up and swaggered through the doorway and came to stand on the pathway
, savouring his freedom. To his right the pathway led towards the mirror through which he planned to make his escape, to his left, the pens where the Helgi and the prisoners were held. He paused, swivelling his head left and right, weighing the consequences of his next decision.

He stood better chance of ste
eling to the mirror unnoticed if he travelled alone, but on the other hand, the prisoners would make an excellent diversion and it would be to his distinct advantage to rescue the female Helgi and if possible, restore her to her Human form, although without the chronicles for reference he wasn’t completely sure whether he could undo what he’d done, but still…

He was still deliberating when a scuffing sound caught his attention: someone was going up the path towards the pens. A sudden panic overtook him and without a second thought he scrambled back up to his prison and retook his usual position within the circle.

Atgas came into view and Cadno’s heart lurched. If she noticed or even suspected he’d broken the circle then he would have to fight his way out of the caverns. He faced the pathway, folded his arms and stood with one knee slightly bend, feigning idle boredom. He watched her walk past without a word carrying a bowl and a knife. Was it that time already?

Cadno waited until she was out of sight before tiptoeing through the gap once more and vanishing into the darkness of the shadows leaving the other prisoners to their own fate.

Atgas was annoyed when she arrived at the torchlight gates to the pens. The guard had sloped off and was probably antagonising the prisoners again. With a snarl she tucked the bowl under one arm, secured the knife in her belt and unbound the gate herself.

She could see her first donor already shuffling towards the bars of his prison. ‘How obedient you are becoming,’ she purred with malice, ‘soon I shall have you trained to cut yourself and bring me your own blood, or at least I would if I didn’t enjoy harvesting myself.’

Bryn-Wisgi stuck his arm through the cage and offered his wrist. ‘Do your worst, Atgas
Adfyw,’
he taunted, ‘I do not fear you.’

The bowl she carried dropped to the ground with a dull thud, viper swift she seized his arm and squeezed
, feeling his cuts split open underneath her fingers. ‘I warned you about calling me by that name.’ She pushed her face close the bars. ‘This time you will pay.’

Bryn-Wisgi summoned every ounce of strength he could, bracing one foot against the bars and grabbing Atgas’ forearm with his free hand he yanked her against the bars and held firm.

Atgas’ face turned from fury to shock in the blink of an eye. She hadn’t seen them coming, had not felt the wooden stakes puncture her skin nor tear up through her ribcage, not a first. A third, then a fourth and fifth punched into her back, she grunted as each one assailed her body. Now she stared dumbly in Bryn-Wisgi’s terror-etched face as he held her arm and felt her fingers slacken as she sank slowly to her knees.

‘Is she dead?’
Reverend Morgan pushed past the crowd of men gathered around Atgas’ still form. She was kneeling as if praying against the bars of Bryn-Wisgi’s prison and as he let go of her arm her shoulder relaxed and she slithered sideways, dropping lifeless to the stinking, sodden earth, wooden bloodied stakes protruding from her torso.

‘She is dead.’ Bryn-Wisgi stared through the bars into her lifeless eyes. Even in death she still looked angry. Bryn-Wisgi looked away and his gaze was caught by the Helgi and Cwn Annwn lurking in the shadows of their own pens. They were all st
anding watching them through their own bars, silently staring. Bryn-Wisgi shivered and looked away.

Reverend
Morgan crossed himself. ‘Quickly, hide her in one of the cages.’ It took four men to drag Atgas away as the others looked on, nervously shuffling from foot to foot. Reverend Morgan’s hands shook as he fumbled with the key to unlock the padlock to Bryn-Wisgi’s cell. ‘We must be quick, the other Bwy Hir will be here any moment and we must be ready.’

‘The other Bwy Hir? You mean Cadno?’ Bryn-Wisgi pushed open the door to his cage and stepped into the crowd of gathered prisoners. ‘Do not hold your breath,
Reverend, we may well have to find our own way out of here. Do you know where the mirror is - The Dderwydd Drych?’

‘Yes, I can lead us all to it, but should we not wait for this Cadno? He said he would meet us here. He will deliver us. Have faith.’
Reverend Morgan clutched his Bible and looked to the other prisoners for support.

There were twelve prisoners in total: two Seekers who had refused fealty to Arawn, six Chosen, an elderly farmer Bryn-Wisgi did not recognise, two elderly women and a
vicar. Not exactly a force to match Wraith-Warriors much less Arawn himself, but they had just managed to take out Atgas and that had to count for something.

‘Listen,
Reverend, if we meet Cadno on the pathway towards the mirror, all well and good, if not we are on our own and we must work together to find a way out of here. I presume the mirror will be guarded?’

Reverend
Morgan nodded. ‘Doubly so. I overheard mention of the mirror being under assault by Ysbrydion and so it is guarded constantly, but we shall prevail.’

The
vicar spoke as if they were on a Sunday school picnic. Bryn-Wisgi closed his eyes and paused to settle himself. ‘Reverend…’ he began but one of the Druids spoke over him.

‘We shall assume control from here on.’ The Elder of the two spoke in a smooth, calm voice. ‘Take a moment to arm yourselves with whatever you can find and then we will make for the Dderwydd Drych. Who is still in possession of their amulet?’

The Chosen and the other Druid shook their heads, shrugged their shoulders or opened their palms. All their possessions had been taken from them on their arrival at the cavern, only Reverend Morgan had been allowed to keep his Bible.

‘Amulet?’
Reverend Morgan’s face lit up. ‘The guard has a silver pendant around his neck; an oak tree on the top half, the roots on the bottom half with three gold connecting spirals in a circle?’

‘A Druid Medallion. Yes. Come take us to him.’ The Druid’s ill manner towards
Reverend Morgan did not sit well with Bryn-Wisgi but he kept his mouth shut, picked up the knife that had fallen from Atgas’ body and clutched it in his fist before following the vicar and the Druids out of the gate towards the pathway. The Cwn Annwn and Helgi silently watched them depart before swinging their huge heads towards Atgas’ still form.

Hushed and crouched low they scampered in single file along the pathway towards the outcrop of rock. The sun had once again fallen past in zenith and the caverns were shadowy and dim. The underside of the lake suspended above its twin rippled and undulated
. Only the occasional dark streak could be seen darting through the murky water.

They carried no torches and spoke no words as they ducked off the path, retrieved the amulet, bound and gagged the unconscious guard and vanished on silent feet between
clusters of browning ferns and moss covered boulders to take cover under an ash and hazel thicket. They hunkered down, short of breath and fearful, fatigued by the short but perilous excursion.

The two Druids joined their heads together before one nodded to the other and vanished into the darkness.
Reverend Morgan leaned in and whispered to Bryn-Wisgi, ‘Where is he going? Has he gone to find Cadno? He will help us escape.’

Bryn-Wisgi bit his lip before whispering, ‘He goes to gauge the way ahead – he will return soon.’ The
vicar was still clutching his Bible. ‘Where is your weapon, Rev?’

‘I don’t have one, save this.’ He held up his black tom
e.

‘Do yourself a favour and tuck your
Bible in your shirt, if things get sticky you may need both hands.’ Bryn-Wisgi shook his head as the vicar unbuttoned his grimy creased shirt and slipped the Bible inside.