The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (80 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

‘Hold up,’ Glyn-Guinea called over his shoulder into the dark interior of Ty Mawr. ‘There’s a Bwy Hir approaching up the driveway.’ He pushed the net curtains aside with the barrel of his gun, tipped his head sideways and peeked through the window. ‘Wait, it looks like Taliesin.’ Glyn-Guinea puffed on his cold pipe; no use announcing his presence by the glow of his tobacco.

‘Do we let him in?’ Liz called from upstairs and Glyn-Guinea rolled his eyes; did she really have to shout so loudly? ‘Maybe he has news from Dai and Gary … Glyn, Glyn can you hear me?’

Glyn-Guinea got up from his seat and walked to the back door. ‘Yes, Liz, the whole bloody village can hear you.’ He un-cocked his gun, turned the key in the lock and stepped out into the night. ‘That you, Taliesin?’

‘Elder Chosen Glyn Williams.’ Taliesin jogged into the yard. ‘Are they here? Tell me they’re here.’ He was soaked through to the skin, his hair plastered flat to his head, flopped over to one side to hide the second Triskele tattoo that marked him one of the Host. He was breathless and pale. Glyn-Guinea was worried.

‘They weren’t at the church?’ Glyn-Guinea waved him inside where the other Chosen men and Liz were waiting. ‘Let him past,’ he said, waving them aside, ‘get him in the kitchen and someone light some candles.’

Taliesin stooped into the hallway and allowed himself to be ushered into the kitchen, immediately feeling the heat from the Aga and the smells of Humanity: stale cooking, habitation and of musky domestication. Bara wagged her tail, pawed his shins and licked at his hands. Someone lit a candle and then another until the kitchen was filled with soft buttery light.

‘Did you see Dai or Gary?’ Liz asked as she gave a curtsey and offered him a seat at the kitchen table.

He shook his head at both her question and her courtesy. ‘No. We found a body but it was burned beyond recognition.’ Liz pressed her hand to her mouth in fright.

‘Damn it.’ Glyn-Guinea could wait no longer; he lit his pipe and puffed out his cheeks as he drew in the tobacco smoke.

‘It seems we are buggered, Elder Chosen Glyn Williams, are we not?’ Taliesin smiled sadly.

‘It would seem so.’ Glyn-Guinea shook his head as a rumble of thunder crashed overhead and rattled the windows in their casements followed immediately by a distant horn blast, once, twice, then again. Taliesin’s face changed from sombre to serious. ‘That is a call for the Host to return to Maen-Du – I must return via the Dderwydd Ddrych.’

‘What about the Ysbrydion?’ Glyn-Guinea stepped aside and nodded his head towards the front room door that was still barred shut.

‘The mirrors have grown quiet after the salting – I will take my chances.’ Taliesin paused at the doorway. ‘If the Morgans return home I beg you to protect them with your life – I will return here as soon as I am able.’ Glyn-Guinea gave a stern nod and Taliesin smiled his thanks before kicking the door to the front room open with his foot and disappearing inside.

‘What are we going to do now, Glyn?’ Liz’s forlorn voice tugged Glyn-Guinea’s heart strings. He turned to her, tried his best to give her a reassuring smile, which he knew would look more like a grimace, but at least he’d tried. ‘We’re going to keep on watching and waiting while you make a round of tea and keep yourself busy, eh?’ She nodded but looked on the verge of tears. ‘It’ll turn out alright, Liz, you’ll see.’

She moved away from him, filled the kettle and placed it on the Aga. The other Chosen gathered around the kitchen table waiting for the water to boil and tea to be served. Glyn-Guinea pursed his lips and for want of something to do decided to make a quick round of the property, starting with upstairs.

It felt strange to be wandering around the Morgan’s home; it felt empty, cold and unwelcoming. ‘Such a sad house,’ he sighed to himself as he popped his head into the first bedroom he came across. Bara had followed him upstairs. She brushed past his legs, nudged a door open at the end of the hallway and wiggled inside. Glyn-Guinea followed her, opened the door wide and stepped inside the room. It was obviously Anwen’s room, t
he pink and white wallpaper, the flowery patchwork bedspread and the white curtain were a giveaway to the owner.

Bara had jumped on the bed and was staring towards the window, her tail wagging. ‘What is it girl?’ He moved past the bed and looked out of the window into the darkness beyond. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when Bara suddenly barked loudly in his ear. ‘Bloody hell, Bara!’ She barked again, louder this time and then it turned into a howl. ‘What?’ Glyn-Guinea looked out of the window again. At first he could see nothing but his own opaque reflection staring back at him and then he saw it: Derwydd yn
tân; a ball of fire streaming across the fields below the house. ‘Shit.’ He nearly fell over the bed trying to get out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time, shouting the Chosen as he flew into the hallway, gun in hand. ‘Derwydd yn tân in the fields!’ he shouted, as he flung open the back door and fired two rounds into the sky.
Boom, Boom.
He prayed the Bwy Hir at the Cerdd Carega would hear the gunshots and come running.

CHAPTER FORTY

Aeron watched as the physician shook his head and drew a curtain around the bed where Atgas’ body lay. ‘So, she is dead. Good.’ Aeron growled and with arms folded, he said, ‘See to him next.’ He pointed and impatiently waited for the physician to administer his concoction into Cadno’s veins and hopefully revive him. The bleeding from the stab wound in his back had slowed and finally stopped but still Cadno slept. The physician had decided that Cadno had been sedated by a poison so had prepared an injection that should bring him “back to land of the living”.

Celyn-Bach was standing beside the bedsides of a number of Chosen that had been brought into the Infirmary in drips and drabs. He was quietly conversing with one of the Chosen who had apparently received “a belly full of lead” and another that had been mercilessly tortured at the hands of Atgas and had been presumed dead long ago. Both Chosen men chatted animatedly with each other, obviously happy to see each other.

One other man stood out from the rest. He was dishevelled and obviously frightened but what set him apart was the dog collar around his neck. ‘Celyn-Bach,’ Aeron called over and nodded towards the Cristion, ‘See he is touched before leaving here.’ All the Chosen’s heads swivelled towards the vicar and stared at him with a mixture of pity and approval.

Aeron turned his attention back to Cadno. He pressed his lips together and scowled as the physician mumbled under his breath, gently inserting the needle into Cadno’s arm. ‘Let us strike while the iron his hot…’

Aeron wished that the physician would stop expressing himself
with idioms; it was difficult to follow half of what he said without the added annoyance of pointless phrases and sayings. Aeron swore that if the ridiculous bespectacled physician even mentioned “as right as rain” he would pick him up and hurl him through the wall.

Cadno stirred; a thin whimper escaped his lips and his eyes flickered beneath their eyelids. The physician leaned back, discarding the needle onto a metal tray.

‘Well?’ Aeron said tersely, ‘How long will it take to wake him?’

The physician wiped his hands on his apron. ‘I do not know precisely, these things take time.’

‘I don’t have time,’ Aeron growled as he stepped up to the bed, drew back his arm and slapped Cadno hard in the face. ‘Wake up, you two-faced son of a goat. I need answers!’

Cadno’s eyes flickered open. ‘I won’t do it!’ he yelled groggily as he tried to sit up. ‘Leave me alone!’ He fought off invisible hands, his arms flailing.

‘Is this normal?’ Aeron asked the physician.

‘I don’t know,’ the physician replied haughtily, ‘I’ve never slapped a patient in the face.’ He gathered his metal tray and stalked off to visit the Chosen patient who had ducked down beneath his blankets.

Celyn-Bach came and placed his hands on Cadno’s shoulders, gently pressing him back to the bed. ‘Be still Cadno,’ he soothed, ‘you’re safe now. Peace, brother.’

Aeron snorted. ‘That remains to be seen.’

Cadno’s eyes slowly focused and he relaxed once he realised he was safely back in Maen-Du. ‘Is it over?’ he asked Celyn-Bach as his gentle face hovered above his. ‘Did you capture him? Is he dead?’

Aeron pushed Celyn-Bach away and loomed over Cadno menacingly. ‘The only reason you are alive is because I need to know where Arawn is. Tell me – where is he?’

Cadno shrunk back, stammering to get his words out. ‘He was here – I mean there – right in front of me – the cavern, I escaped the cavern, I helped the prisoners escape.’ He babbled on. ‘They were chasing me, the Cwn Annwn and Arawn – Seekers too … she caught me, Atgas and then he came – Arawn, demanding I give him my body, but I didn’t Aeron, I didn’t, I would rather die – I’m not with him, Aeron, I’m not part of it – I went to find him, went so I could get myself to you – you have to believe me!’ He grabbed onto Aeron’s arms. ‘You have to believe me!’

Aeron threw his arms away angrily. ‘Where is he, Cadno? Where did he go?’

‘I don’t remember – wait!’ Cadno’s eyes grew wide, ‘She stabbed me! Atgas stabbed me and poisoned me – again…’ He wracked his brain to remember. ‘He told her to run … then he said something, something about the Morgan woman and the child…’ Cadno suddenly sat bolt upright. ‘He knows where they are! He was going to find them! They are in a Chosen village near here!’

Aeron sprang forward, shaking Cadno by the shoulders. ‘Which village? Damn you!’ he ranted, ‘Tell me!’

Celyn-Bach pushed his arms between them. ‘Aeron, stop!’ Their faces were so close their noses were almost touching. ‘I know where they are!’ Aeron released Cadno, flinging him back onto his bed. ‘Where?’

‘I believe they are hiding in a Chosen’s house in the village of Penmachno – Awel did not meet them at the church.’ Celyn-Bach grabbed at Aeron’s sleeve as he made towards the Infirmary doors. ‘Come, I know which mirror!’

Aeron followed in haste almost bowling Elder Tomas over as he waited patiently outside the Infirmary. ‘My Lord, what is it?’

‘Arawn goes for the Morgan woman and the child – we must get there first!’ he called over his shoulder as he hurried past, ‘Get to the Dragon Bay, get the Host back into the skies – tell them to get to the village of Penmachno in all haste and see Cadno does not leave the Infirmary!’

Celyn-Bach tore through the hallways, calling ahead of him for all to get out of his path, there could be no delay, he had made a mistake and now he must rectify it. They hurtled up the stairway together, dashed into the Hall of Mirrors and came to a halt in front of the mirror Gwyn had vanished through. Celyn-Bach held up his hand, the mirror began to mist but then hissed and gutted out, solidifying in front of his eyes. He blinked in confusion. ‘Druid!’ he called over one of the Watchers, ‘Open this mirror.’

The Druid held up his amulet and touched the mirror, this time it misted completely and remained open. Aeron and Celyn-Bach exchanged a concerned glance before Celyn-Bach raised his hand to the misty surface. ‘Something is wrong.’ He pushed his hand against the mist but suddenly flinched and extracted his arm; it was covered in tiny red pin-pricks. ‘It burns!’

Aeron stood side by side with Celyn-Bach. ‘What is wrong? What has happened?’

The Druid came up and placed a tentative hand next to the Bwy Hir’s – it slid straight into the mist. ‘It feels normal.’ He looked up into their faces. ‘Nothing feels wrong, my Lords.’

‘Salt.’ Celyn-Bach pulled his hand away in disgust. ‘This is what the Gwiddon warned us of – we are celestial; spiritual … we cannot pass through a salted mirror.’

Aeron threw his head back and howled in frustration. ‘All the mirrors?’ he asked incredulously, disbelieving the Druid’s folly – his folly.

‘This was one of the unsalted mirrors,’ the Druid stammered, ‘yet only minutes ago it misted and solidified so quickly, it was as though someone was going to come through but changed their mind.’

‘Why would someone salt it now?’ Celyn-Bach stared at the churning surface.

‘To stop us getting through.’ Aeron grabbed the Druid roughly by the scruff of his robes. ‘You said “one of the unsalted” – where are the others?’

‘There are only two others,’ the Druid spluttered, hanging limply from Aeron’s fist, ‘The Chosen doctor’s and the Morgans’.’

‘Which is the Morgans’?’ Aeron shook him. ‘Which one?’

‘Over there!’ The Druid lifted a shaking finger and pointed. ‘The one that is misting as we speak!’ he croaked.

Aeron dropped the Druid to the floor and spun to see the lone mirror stood among the ranks of silent mirrors begin to mist, its surface melting and churning. He braced himself and felt Celyn-Bach do the same. The figure that stepped through was Taliesin. Aeron felt a mixture of relief and anger; Taliesin had disobeyed him.

‘Father…’ Taliesin quailed as his father and Celyn-Bach approached him. Celyn-Bach looked concerned, Aeron looked furious. ‘Is Awel with you?’ Aeron snapped, not breaking step. ‘Is the girl?’

Taliesin shook his head. ‘Awel still waits at the church. She was attacked by Cwn Annwn and bade me to go to Ty Mawr to see if they arrived there safely – they did not, but the Chosen wait in case of their return. I heard the horn blasts and came straight here.’

‘Then we must be away.’ Aeron checked his daggers were in place and then stepped through the mirror into Ty Mawr Farmhouse. Celyn-Bach and Taliesin followed with a squad of Druids behind them.

They arrived into a silent house. Aeron waited in the front room for Taliesin and Celyn-Bach to arrive, he wrinkled his nose at the stench of the place. ‘Where are the Chosen?’ Aeron mouthed cautiously.

‘They were here moments ago,’ Taliesin said, taking a step into the hallway. The back door was swinging open and a cold breeze swept through the house, even Bara appeared to be missing. ‘Ho, Chosen?’ he called but received no reply. He turned to his father. ‘Something is amiss, they were here, I swear it.’

Warily they stole into the hallway. Celyn-Bach made a quick check of the living-room and Taliesin poked his head into the kitchen while Aeron, bent low, stepped outside looking left and right for any signs of life. The rain had ceased and the clouds were slowly drifting away to reveal a lightening sky; no longer blue-black of night but the slate-grey of predawn. Aeron inhaled the clean, moist air, taking the briefest of moments to appreciate the cool dampness of the mist that hung over the land like a shroud before he raised his arm and beckoned for the Druids to fan out and begin a search of the exterior. Celyn-Bach followed Taliesin from the house. ‘They are gone – they must be headed for the Dell.’ Taliesin brushed past his father in haste. ‘I know the way from here.’

Aeron grabbed his arm and held his son from running blind. ‘Stay behind Celyn-Bach and me.’ His voice was low and gruff as his eyes darted over the rising mists. ‘As you said: something is amiss.’

*

Brenig and Rhiannon had heard the gunshots and had not wasted a moment; they tore off towards Ty Mawr Farm at full sprint, darting and weaving through the pine trees and exploding onto the dewy grass. Only when they were in sight of the huge lone oak that stood with its base blanketed in mist did they slide to a halt. It took two seconds for them to register what they were seeing before they turned tail and pelted back towards the Cerdd Carega to inform the Pride of what was transpiring on their doorstep.

*

Glyn-Guinea held his shotgun low at his hip with his finger on the trigger, swinging it in a wide arc as he led the group of Chosen cautiously towards the lower fields. Liz Jones, refusing to be left behind, scurried behind them, jumping at every shadow, stumbling over the rutted meadow where hidden burrows threatened to tumble her into the murky mist.

It was strangely silent and bleak in the muted predawn hour, as if the world had been drained of colour and left bereft of all hope. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees, nor ruffled the hedgerows, only the muted babbling of the swollen river at the bottom of the fields penetrated the ominous hush.

Glyn-Guinea stopped abruptly. ‘Did you hear that?’ he whispered, ‘over to the right…’ He strained to listen and then they all heard an echoed cry that sent them running towards Gwyn Morgan’s outraged voice.

‘Get your filthy hands off him!’

*

Mab Rhedyn Haf, Queen of the Summer Realm, slowly opened her eyes as her mind returned from her wind-casting over the vale. Her face was deathly pale and her lips trembled as she slowly rose from her dais to address the gathered Pride. ‘Arawn is on our doorstep, only a short distance from the Dell’s Cerdd Carega, we must warn Rhiannon and Brenig.’

‘Arawn is evil and therefore cannot gain entry to the Dell.’ Gwenllian Gwiddon hobbled forward, her neck craned as she squinted up to look into Mab’s frightened eyes. ‘What else have you seen, Queen of the Summer Realm?’

Mab lowered her head and stared down on Gwenllian before running her eyes over the Pride as they silently, expectantly waited on her next words. ‘Arawn has the child … it is over.’

A collective gasp tore through the gathering and Mab raised her hand to call for calm but her words were cut off by the sudden appearance of the Tylwyth Teg. They came as one, running on silent feet, weaving through the gathering to deposit what they carried between them: a Dderwydd Ddrych and a leather bound tome. They dropped them at Mab’s feet and then tore off across the grasslands towards the Cerdd Carega.

Mab jumped down from the dais. ‘Come, we must follow.’

‘It is not safe!’ Olwyn called as she protectively clutched Blodwyn to her chest. ‘We must remain here.’ There were murmurs of agreement.

‘We must follow the Tylwyth Teg,’ Mab replied sternly. ‘We will face our fate proudly and with honour. We will not cower here like frightened children; we are the Pride … We are Bwy Hir.’

Gwenllian Gwiddon gathered her few belongings and hobbled after the Pride. She too must leave the protection of the Dell and return to the Gwrachod to prepare for the coming storm.

*

The ambush had been swift. They had almost reached the safety of the Dell when Arawn had suddenly loomed up from the mist and snatched the child. Now, under the protective boughs of the oak tree that marked halfway between two worlds; that of the Morgans of Ty Mawr Farm and that of the Bwy Hir realm, Arawn made ready to possess Davy’s body and become rightful
King of the Winter Realm, Arch Orphanim of the Bwy Hir.