The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (19 page)

‘Your dad will pull through this, you mark my words.’ Dai’s voice was full of confidence. ‘He’ll be fine, Gwyn.’ Dai leant forward and patted Gwyn’s arm. They sat in silence for a while, watching the flames flicker in the stove, listening to the pop and hiss of the logs as they were consumed, listening to Dafydd’s steady breathing and the thoughts in their own heads.

Gwyn was trying to savour the peace before the chaos began, before strangers started tramping all over the house, before friends and neighbours started piling in, before the phone got reconnected, before his father got
taken away to the hospital. He needed Nerys here to field the phone calls, he needed Anwen here to rally around making tea and sandwiches and growling at him to ‘get out of the way’. He needed his father here to take control, to tell him everything was going to be alright, but he was alone with only Bara for company. He leaned against her warm body and she licked his face affectionately.
I love you too, Bara.
He sent out to her and she seemed to understand what he was thinking.
Where were the women?

‘They’re all taking their bloody time
,’ Bryn grumbled, disturbing the silence as he fidgeted.

‘Shut up, you old woman
,’ Dai shot back, ‘they’ll be here when they’re here.’

Gwyn presumed Bryn meant everyone: the locals, the ambulance, the
Druids, the neighbours, the search party and the busybodies. Gwyn was happy they hadn’t arrived yet.

The lights dimmed for the third time and
Dai got up, returning only after a short moment. ‘Sorry, Gwyn,’ Dai looked embarrassed, ‘I need to take Dafydd’s amulet.’

Gwyn didn’t understand what
Dai was saying at first. ‘What amulet?’

‘His chain, Gwyn.’
Dai fished in his shirt pulling his chain up through the collar.

‘Oh, I see, sorry, D
ai.’ Gwyn got to his knees and pulled Dafydd’s blanket down to his chest. The chain was missing.

‘
It’s not here.’ Gwyn was confused, Dafydd never took it off. Dai leaned over the back of the sofa to check for himself.

‘Is it stuck in his clothes?’
Dai suggested, as he moved to the crumpled, sodden pile at the foot of the sofa. He shook each item, scrunched the pockets, doubled checked inside and out of each garment, but the amulet was nowhere to be found.

‘I’ll go tell them. Perhaps it slipped off in the fields on the way back here?’
Dai vanished again, returning once again, looking uncomfortable. ‘Um, they want your amulet then, until your father’s turns up.’

Gwyn’s blood was up, he was worried about Dafydd, about Anwen and Nerys.
He was tired and he was agitated, he’d had enough. He pushed himself to his feet, biting at his lower lip with his teeth as he yanked at his amulet, breaking the chain. ‘Yeah, well they can come and take it from me!’ he shouted, as he held the amulet out in front of him.

Dai
moved quickly, stepping into Gwyn’s space and spreading his arms wide. ‘No Gwyn, you’ve enough trouble heaped on your head, don’t be looking for more, not tonight. Your dad’s off to hospital, so best not to have the amulet on show, but his is missing so they’re just keeping hold of yours for now, there’s nothing funny going on.’

Gwyn’s chest heaved in and out as he struggled to control is anger. He wanted to punch something, someone. He wanted to scream and howl, tear and slash, he wanted this morning back. He slammed the amulet into D
ai’s outstretched hand and Bryn let out an explosive breath he didn’t know he was holding.

‘You’ve done the right thing, Gwyn.’
Dai nodded, looking down at his hand. ‘It’s only for now.’

‘They can keep it
,’ Gwyn spat to Dai’s back, ‘they can all go to hell, something’s not right here.’

‘Why are you so upset? The girls will be back soon.’
Dai was confused by Gwyn’s overreaction and agitated state.

‘I’m telling you, D
ai, something’s not right.’

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Afagddu had kept his cowl drawn as he’d entered the Hall of Mirrors only hours earlier. He’d kept his face hidden until he reached his cell, only then did he remove his cloak and blood-stained robes. His linen undershirt was also soiled with crimson blotches so he removed that too to stand bare chested and shivering.

He retrieved the looking glass he kept face down in his bed chest. A deep
, narrow cut sliced through his face, a hair’s breadth from his lower eyelid through his cheek and ended half an inch from his jaw. He grimaced at his reflection, the cut would need stitches, that meant a trip to the Sanatorium and that meant the cut would need explaining.

He looked again at his face, something he did not often do. He was aware he was considered ugly. His face too long, his brow too broad, his lips too thin, his eyes too far apart, but no matter, his face had served him well enough until now. He just needed a plausible reason for the cut that refused to stop bleeding,
but what?
He racked his brain, considering and discarding every possible excuse while he hid away in his cell.
That witch has made me a bed of nails.
He cursed her, he cursed her cunning little niece and he cursed the entire damned family! In a sudden burst of rage he lifted the mirror above his head and brought it crashing to the floor with such violent force that he even shocked himself. Glittering shards erupted in a shower of sparkles shooting into the air, spraying the room with silver darts. Afagddu lifted a hand to protect his face as splinters jabbed at his palm and wrist and dug themselves into his sleeve.

He stood there in the middle of his cell, still leaning away from the explosion. The cell door swung open, hitting Afagddu on his already sore back.

‘Afagddu, what on earth is going on?’ The alarmed faces of two Elder Druids peered through the doorway accompanied by Afagddu’s body servant, Cai.

Afagddu stared in horror at the faces looking in on him
. He stammered as he desperately grasped for an explanation of his bloodied face, cringing as they stared at his naked torso and twisted misshapen back.

‘Oh, Afagddu, no.’
Elder Tomas’ voice was full of compassion and empathy as he gently shook his head, ‘Afagddu … you are what you are. You have been made in God’s image. You should not allow the snide comments of your discontented brothers get the better of you. Lord Aeron punished us for our misdeeds; you did not. You must not punish yourself so – look what you have done to yourself.’

The body servant pushed past the elders and retrieved a fresh robe from the wardrobe to cover his master’s bare shoulders, crushing glass underfoot as he scurried to shelter Afagddu from further shame.

The second Elder tutted as he clasped his hands over his ample belly. ‘Your anger has caused you harm, Afagddu, you have cut your hands and face quite severely. Go straight to the Sanatorium and see yourself administered to at once, we shall deal with the troubles as they unfold.’

‘Troubles?’ Afagddu asked
, as he pushed his arms through the sleeves of his new robe and tried to fasten the buttons with a bleeding hand. His servant timidly leaned to help his master and Afagddu allowed the succour.

Elder Tomas sighed
. ‘We were coming to tell you. One of the Chosen has gone missing, we have sent a small party to aid with the search, but we will deal with it Afagddu – you must go and get yourself seen to.’

‘Who is missing?’ Afagddu pressed
, feigning concern.

‘The senior of the two Morgans, from Ty Mawr – do you know him?’

Afagddu pursed his lips. ‘I know of the son, he has just been initiated.’ His words were punctuated with a rumble of thunder. ‘It is not a night to go missing, can I help in his search in any way?’

‘No, you cannot, Afagddu. See to yourself first, the cut on your face looks particularly nasty, it will probably need stitching.’ Tomas sighed again
. ‘You are an asset to our brotherhood Councillor, see you remember that next time you torment yourself.’

The Elders shook their heads in unison as they rushed to deal with the ‘troubles’ in Afagddu’s stead. Afagddu watched them depart before slapping his servant’s hand away. ‘Clean this mess,’ he ordered the servant, ‘if anyone needs me, I will be in the Sanatorium.’

Afagddu smiled to himself as he scurried through the halls heading downward towards the infirmary.
The luck, the sheer luck
, he exulted in his good fortune,
guileless fools, as if I care what my brethren think of me, but it suits my purpose well enough for now, naïve children
! He felt as light as a feather, he had been gifted a ploy to cover his deeds and he felt so happy he could almost dance.

‘What happened to you?’ Cadno’s voice brought him up short. Afagddu had been so elated he had completely missed Cadno concealed in the shadows of the hallway. Afagddu set his face straight and bowed to his superior.

Cadno leaned down to stare at Afagddu. ‘What happened?’ he inquired, his eyes full of mirth. ‘Did someone try to wipe that smug grin off your face?’

‘An accident with a mirror, my
Lord, it was entirely my fault.’

‘Even the mirrors revolt at your ugliness!’ Cadno snorted as he stood upright
. He changed his focus like quicksilver. ‘Tell me, Councillor, why do your brethren scurry around like beetles tonight instead of being tucked away in their pits?’

Afagddu distrusted the question. Cadno was no fool, he missed very little that went on in the
Halls of the Druid and therefore already knew the answer to his question,
so why ask it
?

‘One of the
Chosen is apparently missing. Speak to Elder Tomas if you wish to know more, he is dealing with the incident,’ Afagddu replied curtly before adding, ‘My Lord.’

Cadno smiled deviously
. ‘You know, I didn’t think you could get any more repulsive, but I stand corrected.’ He raised an eyebrow at Afagddu before waving him away.

Afagddu dipped his head at Cadno as he skirted past the smirking Bwy Hir.
What did he mean by his last comment? Was he talking about his cut face or something else? They surely couldn’t have found the fat woman’s body?
Afagddu didn’t feel quite as cocksure as he entered the Sanatorium. His face looked drawn and anxious under the mask of drying, oozing blood as he allowed himself to be ushered behind a curtain by a fussing elderly physician. ‘My, my, Afagddu, what have you been up to?’

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Anwen couldn’t feel her legs, her body was
wracked with shudders, her teeth chattered and her breath came in great, ragged gulps.

Run!
Nerys’ shriek still echoed in her ears.
Run, Anwen!
And she had run as if the devil himself chased her. Out of the house she had flown, slipping and slithering across the rain-slickened yard, grabbing at the barn as she twisted between the buildings and dashed for the open fields. She had blindly thought to run after Gwyn but she had seen the lights streaming in his direction and instead she made another twist and belted in the opposite direction.

Her feet had gathered momentum as she tore through a gap in the hedgerow and headed downhill towards the small river that separated the farm from the main road. Slipping and sliding, running sightless into the night, the rain poured down on her, the wind tore at her clothes making her twist and flinch as she imagined cruel hands grabbing at her to pull down their quarry.

Run Anwen!
She came upon the river quicker than she imagined. She suddenly realised how swollen it had become as she splashed into the shallows, almost losing her footing as the swells pushed at her knees seeking to fold her into the wild black water.

She slowed as she waded through the
river, sticking close to the banks. She swung her arms to further her momentum as she ran with the water, following its course towards the bridge at the edge of the village.

Stubbing her toe on a hidden rock
, she splashed into the water; she was completely submerged for a second, re-emerging with a cry of anguish, splashing and grabbing at air to regain her purchase.
Fool girl, use your head, it’s what it’s for!
Nerys’ voice rang in her head. Anwen listened to her aunt and forced herself to stop and think, just for a moment while she caught her breath.

Anwen pushed her consciousness away from her throbbing foot, her stinging hands and her skinned knees
. She blanked her pain and confusion and instead concentrated on her surroundings. She listened intently, shutting out the rain and listened for any sound of pursuit … nothing. Looking around her as she shielded her eyes from the downpour, she began to make out vague shapes. The stream she was still standing in was shielded from the road by a bank of oak and sycamore, to her left were open fields boxed in by black hedgerows. In front was nothing but blackness, behind was nothing but fear and that set her feet into motion once more.

The river was getting wider and faster, she knew she was heading for the bridge
. The roar of water surging between stone columns and over rocks meant she was getting close and so she decided now was the time to cross over to the other side before it became too deep and treacherous to do so.

She desperately s
ought to keep her footing as she traversed through the waters. Once at the other side she found an overhanging branch to cling to as she heaved herself out of the water and onto the sloping mud bank. She leaned heavily against a tree as she dragged the cold night air into her lungs.

Numb, I’m beginning to feel numb
, Anwen thought to herself,
this is not good, I’ve become too cold.
She forced her screaming legs to fold and she crouched down, wrapping her arms around her knees for warmth.
Think, girl, think!
Nerys said again.

‘I need to get warm,’ she whispered to Nerys’ voice, ‘I need dry clothes. I need money. I need to find somewhere safe. Where shall I go Aunt Nerys? Who will help me?
’ She remained crouching for quite some time, lost in thought, shaking and shivering until it came to her.

Still gulping for breath between chattering teeth she tried to stand, her legs shrieked in protest as she forced her burning muscles to cooperate. Rain dripped from her hair covering her face and running icy rivulets down her back and neck
. Her clothes stuck to her skin making it difficult to move her body into motion, but with every ounce of will she had left inside her she forced her body into a drunken amble towards the road.

Thorns spitefully scratched at her calves and ankles as she gingerly stepped through the brambles picketed at the base of
the wall that marked the road. No streetlights threaded along this part of the road, only the sallow moon cast its light on the sorry figure trying to find leverage to boost herself over the wall and onto the silver ribboning road.

Just as Anwen was gathering enough of her ebbing strength to pull up on the wall she heard the distant roar of an approaching vehicle, she hesitated and ducked back down
, waiting for the car to pass. She saw the headlights coming closer and dipped her head as she hid. The car slowed just down the road from her hiding place and Anwen became aware of a second car approaching from the opposite direction.
Oh my god, how have they found me?
Her legs wobbled at the thought of breaking cover and making a run for it and so she waited, trying to hold her breath as she dug deeper into the undergrowth.

The second car pulled up slowly
. Anwen could hear the swish-swish of the windscreen wipers and the tapping of the engine as the car stopped. She heard a car door open and close and the tisk-tisking of a waterproof jacket as someone made their way towards the other vehicle.

‘Any news?’ said one man’s voice.

‘No, no, they haven’t found them yet,’ said the other.

W
as that Trevor Ellis?

‘Good god, what a sorry state of affairs. How’s Dafydd doing?’

‘Ambulance is on its way, he’s alive but unconscious.’

Dad.

‘Do you think he’ll pull through?’

‘Hard to say, we’ll have to wait and see.’

‘Do you think we’re going to find the women in the same state?’

What
state? What happened to Nerys?

‘God, I hope not. Gwyn’s got enough on his plate.’

Oh, Gwyn.

‘What do the blacks have to say about all this?’

Druids
, Anwen sneered.

‘Nought yet, but they’re not happy
… doesn’t bode well, this … what a bloody mess!’

‘Mess indeed, Trev. Right, I’m off to join in the search, are they still at The Eagle?’

‘Yes, men are still arriving, you’ll not miss the party. I’m off to pick up my dogs and then I’ll be back.’

‘OK, see you in a bit,
Hwyl
.’

‘
Hwyl
, Ta-ra.’ Trevor got back in his car and revved the engine and both vehicles passed each other speeding off in opposite directions.

Anwen had fought the urge to give up, to give in and surrender. Friends and neighbours would be out in this weather looking high and low for her. The Druids would be out with their hideous hounds.
I don’t stand a chance,
she whimpered, as she tried to make sense of what she’d overheard.

I thought I told you to run
! Nerys’ gruff voice was back inside her head.
What are you waiting for? Give to him who asks of you, and
do not turn away …
Anwen shut Nerys’ voice out and threw herself over the wall. Checking over her shoulder she began jogging down the road away from the village towards her goal. She knew where she was going and no matter how many times she had to throw herself back over the wall if another car came, she was going to get there.

The cottage
she sought was right on the edge of the village and when she arrived at the gates she noted all the lights were off. Having no choice, she cautiously crept up the gravel driveway and gently tapped on the front door. She waited a few moments before tapping again, only louder this time. Finally, a light came on in the hallway and she could see the figure of the vicar warily coming down the stairs.

‘Who is it?’ he called through the door.

‘It’s me!’ Anwen whispered loudly. ‘I mean, it’s Anwen Morgan, I need your help.’

There was a pause before Anwen heard the security chain rattle and then the door opened ajar
. The vicar peeped through the crack before opening it all the way and letting a rag-tag Anwen into the house.

‘Anwen – what’s all this about?’ he whispered, his face etched with concern.

‘I’m in trouble vicar and didn’t know where else to go.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears. ‘There was a man … in our house, I had to run away.’ Her lips were trembling as she spoke, her eyes wide with fear and her tiny body shook uncontrollably as she tried to explain herself.

‘Shh, shh, you’re safe now Anwen, come on in and let
’s at least get you dry while you explain what’s going on.’ He ushered her into the kitchen, checked the kettle for water and switched it on to boil before vanishing into what Anwen presumed was the utility room. He offered her a seat at the yellow and white cotton covered table decorated with a vase of large white daisies and gypsophila, a neat pile of paper, brown envelopes and a small clear plastic bag containing an assortment of notes and coins.

The
vicar returned with two fluffy white towels and a rose pink tracksuit that obviously belonged to his wife. ‘Here, sort yourself out.’ He passed Anwen the bundle. ‘I’ll wait in the hallway, just call out when you’re decent.’

She dressed as quickly as she could, conscious of keeping the
vicar waiting, conscious of time ticking away. ‘I’m ready,’ she called quietly and the vicar bobbed back into the kitchen and set about making a cup of tea while Anwen towel-dried her unruly hair.

‘Now then,’
The vicar passed her a mug of tea. ‘You look a bit better, drier at least. What kind of trouble are you in, Anwen?’

Anwen dropped her head
. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, but I am in danger.’

‘Danger? Has this anything to do with the
… the black men?’ the vicar hedged.

Anwen didn’t know how to answer
. Was he one of them?
She squirmed in her chair as her eyes darted around the room looking for the nearest exit. ‘Where’s your wife and son?’ she asked nervously.

‘Oh, she’s dead to the world, she takes sleeping pills,  afflicted with insomnia and my son is staying at a friend’s house this evening – oh, I see!’
He leaned back in his chair. ‘Don’t worry, I am not one of them. Anwen, how could you think such a thing!’ he chided kind-heartedly and smiled reassuringly.

‘Can I
ask what’s dangling from the chain around your neck?’ Anwen’s heart was beginning to pump.

‘It’s a St Christopher. Anwen calm yourself, I told you I have nothing to do with this silly local cult.’ The
vicar seemed genuinely affronted.

‘I – I – I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m thinking.’ Anwen wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffed
. ‘Um, yes, it’s about them, they’re going to get me. Nerys stopped one of them, but they’ll come.’

‘And your father and brother didn’t protect you?’

‘They were both out, only me and Nerys were home.’ Anwen tried to stop the tears and stop her face wrinkling into despair but she couldn’t help it and so she sobbed while the vicar held her hand. ‘I need to get away,’ Anwen snivelled, ‘I can’t let them catch me. Will you help me?’ she pleaded. ‘I won’t go home, you can’t make me!’

The
vicar chuckled at Anwen’s tenacity. ‘I’m not suggesting that for one moment’ He shook his head and smiled. Anwen couldn’t believe she had thought so horribly of this man, she felt guilty and small minded as she sipped at her tea, her huge eyes peering over the rim at his kind and patient face.

The
vicar watched Anwen as she put her mug down on the table. She had to keep thrusting the sleeves of the oversized tracksuit back up her arms and push her unruly hair out of her face, her appearance made her look vulnerable and childlike.

‘Why do these men “want to get you
,” do you know who they are?’ the vicar asked.

Anwen hesitated before answering his questions
. ‘I know things I shouldn’t. The Druids don’t like women, you know?’

‘Druids? Anwen, they are only local men acting out some silly fantasy
–’

‘No, they are not. The
Chosen are the local men, the Druids serve the Bwy Hir.’

‘The Bwy
– Anwen what are you talking about?’

‘The Bwy Hir. You know who they are? You do know what they are, surely?’

‘No, Anwen. Why don’t you tell me who the Bwy Hir are?’ The vicar spoke to Anwen as though she was a confused small child and for some reason that really irked her.

‘Nephilim
… the Bwy Hir are Nephilim,’ she stated simply.

The
vicar’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Perhaps the girl was under the influence of drugs. ‘The Nephilim,’ he said patiently, ‘as in the biblical Nephilim?’ He rubbed his chin as he spoke; it was obvious he didn’t believe her.

‘I don’t know
.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve never read the bible.’

‘Wait here, Anwen.’ The
vicar got to his feet. ‘Let me find  my bible and I will read you the very small passage that mentions the Nephilim, I think it’s Genesis, give me a moment.’