The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (76 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Glyn-Guinea emerged from the pine trees and into an open field, he passed a huge oak tree standing proud in a field, its emerald leaves glittering in the last of the sun’s rays as its shadow stretched across the grass almost touching the forest just beyond its reach.

Glyn-Guinea looked over his shoulder. It would be dark soon; he needed to hurry. He quickened his pace and it wasn’t long before he was out of breath. For a moment he’d considered giving up his pipe, Gwenllian always moaned that it would be the death of him, but by his reckoning he’d had a good innings already and if you had to die of something it might as well be by doing something you enjoyed. ‘There’s a whole lot worse ways to die, eh, Bara?’

He felt a shiver down his back; now was not a time to be thinking of death. He ran his eyes over the fields and hedgerows. Bara was still happily wagging her tail up ahead. There was nothing to worry about. He leaned down and pulled his whittling knife out from the sleeve of his boot, just in case.

He joined the path that connected to the Ty Mawr driveway and again turned to check over his shoulder. His eyebrows drew together and he inhaled deeply. Far beyond Gwydir
Forest a huge dark cloud was rising, black clouds that warned of a storm brewing, but Glyn-Guinea could smell it coming on the wind. It wasn’t rain on the horizon, it was smoke. It looked like half the valley was ablaze.

A horn blast rippled through the valley; so, the Druids had seen it too. ‘Well, they’ll have to deal with it, I’ve got enough on my plate.’ Glyn-Guinea turned away and jogged the rest of the way to the farmhouse.

The key, as always, was under the mat. Glyn-Guinea let himself in, Bara pushing past his legs and vanishing up the stairs. The house was exactly the same as when he was last there, only now it smelled musty and damp. He moved further into the house, passing the door to the front room, the door still nailed shut, the runes still edged on the wood. He prayed that the phone company had connected the line as he’d asked; he picked up the handset and smiled as he heard the welcome
brrr
of the dial tone.

He set to work, dialling from memory. ‘Hello? Hello, Liz, its Glyn-Guinea, is Dai there? … He went where?
... Bugger … I need him here at Ty Mawr … yes, Ty Mawr … Do you know how to handle a gun?’

Call after call, Glyn-Guinea chose those he judged trustworthy and one by one they arrived; all armed to the teeth with Browning 23 gauge and twin barrelled shotguns. Liz was the last to arrive with an open twin barrel shotgun nestled in the crook of her arm and the pockets of her cardigan swingi
ng and jangling with cartridges. ‘I’ve sent Gary for Dai; they won’t be long.’

They convened in the kitchen. Glyn-Guinea laid out his plan and the Chosen farmers listened, nodding and pursing their lips as they took instruction. ‘That’s it then,’ he concluded, ‘take your positions.’

They filed out while Liz hung behind. ‘You said you telephoned Selwyn?’ She sounded worried.

‘Yup. No answer.’ Glyn-Guinea lit his pipe and inhaled.

‘He’s definitely back; he came to our farm today, only he was acting a bit strange.’

‘Strange?’ Glyn-Guinea pulled the pipe from his mouth, suddenly feeling that shiver return to trickle down his spine.

‘I can’t put my finger on it. He was just … odd.’

‘Did you tell him about Anwen’s return?’ He kept his eyes fixed on the bowl of his pipe.

‘Yes. We saw no reason not to.’

‘Does he know where and when?’

‘Yes, same as Dai. You don’t think..?’

‘Think what? That Selwyn is a Bradychwr
              : a Traitor?’ Glyn-Guinea rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘Or does he want to cash in on the Druid’s offer of gold? I doubt it, Liz. Don’t worry, one way or the other, he’ll turn up.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ Liz released a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. ‘Dai will be alright, won’t he?’

Glyn-Guinea placed the pipe back in his mouth. ‘Of course he will. Now get in your position – you’re in Anwen’s room – keep an eye on those fields – shout if you see anything.’

Liz nearly tripped over the barrel of the shotgun as she left to go upstairs; it was obviously one of Dai’s and far too big for her small stature. Glyn-Guinea hoped she didn’t try to shoot it; the kick-back would probably knock her clean off her feet.

‘Okay,’ he shouted as he picked up the gun he’d acquired from Dafydd’s – or indeed, Gwyn’s gun cabinet, ‘lights out!’ He flicked the fuse switch up and the house plunged into darkness. Seated on a chair by the kitchen window Glyn-Guinea pushed the curtains aside, opened the window a crack and settled down to wait. It was going to be a long night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

‘I know what I felt, Gwyn.’ Anwen opened the church door and peeked her head through the crack. ‘Something is wrong. I can feel it.’

‘So someone is wielding the power. It could be anything.’ Gwyn carried Davy in his arms as the little boy slept, his head resting on Gwyn’s shoulder. ‘We should wait for Awel.’

The mournful low of a distant horn reached their ears and Gwyn’s stomach lurched. The faint tang of wood smoke wafted through the door way as a second horn blast sounded.

‘We have to go, now.’ Anwen yanked the door open and cautiously stepped into the darkened graveyard.

‘Go where? We should wait.’ Gwyn remained in the doorway of the church. ‘Anwen, come back!’

Flash. Boom. A headstone suddenly erupted and Anwen was showered with shards of slate as she reeled away from the blast. She heard Gwyn scream her name and then another flash, another boom, only then did she realise they were being shot at.

She felt Gwyn’s hand push her to the ground, felt the warm assurance of his body hulked over her protectively. She felt Davy’s face pressed against hers as they huddled together in the darkness.

‘Gwyn. Anwen. Stay down-’

That was Dai Jones’ voice cut short by another gunshot.

‘Bastard,’ Dai cursed. Click. Boom. He answered the flash of a shotgun with one of his own. ‘Where are you,
Bradychwr? Show yourself, traitorous turncoat!’

A familiar voice called from the darkness. ‘I’m no Bradychwr. I am faithful to the Triskele and that is why I cannot let Anwen Morgan or the child leave this churchyard.’

‘Selwyn?’ Dai’s voice was shrill and shocked. ‘What the hell?’

Flash. Boom. Dai ducked behind a tomb as pellets peppered the stonemasonry where his head had just been.

‘They are a mistake, Dai, an abomination.’ Was his voice getting closer or further away? ‘They should never have been born and pose too great a risk to the Triskele to be allowed to live.’

‘Selwyn. You’re not thinking straight. Put your gun down and think about it.’

‘Oh, I’ve thought about it long and hard.’ Saw-Bones Selwyn’s voice came from somewhere off to the left. ‘With them both dead Arawn cannot live and then it will be over. Everything returns back to the way it was. I’m not the only Chosen who thinks so.’

Dai peeked over the tombstone. He could see nothing but the bulky shadows of haphazard gravestones. Over the hammering of his heart Dai heard the tell-tale crunch of gravel underfoot to his right. Shock shuddered through him. ‘Gwyn there’s two of ‘em here!’ He pointed his gun in the direction he’d heard the gravel move, closed his eyes to spare his night vision and pulled the trigger.

Silence: he’d missed his target.  Where the hell was Awel Chan y Bant? It was well past sundown. Dai reloaded his gun with shaking hands as he called into the night. ‘You are breaking your oaths, you cannot spill Bwy Hir blood – you’ll face the R’hela!’

‘They are not Bwy Hir though, are they Dai?’ Selwyn’s voice was further away this time, closer to the church. ‘I have sworn no allegiance to mud-bloods and mongrels.’

‘Listen to yourself!’ Dai was talking over his shoulder as he leaned against the tombstone, staring into the darkness, watching, waiting for any sign of the second man who crept amongst the silent shadows. ‘You’re cousin thought differently, didn’t she? Mary protected them – kept them away from madmen like you … did you kill her too, Saw-Bones?’

‘No, the Druids saw to that when she wouldn’t tell them where she was hiding them – You see there are three factions Dai; those you have fled to Arawn, those who flock to the Bwy Hir and those, like me, who are faithful to the Triskele itself - We serve the Triskele and keep
our
oaths:  “to serve diligently and zealously, keeping the old ways.” The
old
way, Dai. It is my duty to restore the balance.’ He pointed his gun towards Dai’s position. Flash. Boom.

Dai ducked, coughed the dust from his lungs and shouted back, ‘We? Who’s the coward with you, Selwyn, the one who hasn’t had the balls to show himself?’ Dai sneered as only silence answered his question until a quiver of warning made him suddenly lift his gun and shoot directly in front of him.

The grunt and thud of a body hitting the ground surprised him. He opened his eyes and blinked. He could see nothing but a bulky shape lying on the floor and so he pulled a torch out of his pocket and shone it where the body had fallen. His surprise heightened when he saw the gaping oozing hole he’d made in the man’s chest. His surprise turned to astonishment when he recognised the face: Trevor Edwards, an old friend of Dafydd Morgan. Dai gritted his teeth in disgust as he turned off his torch. ‘One down, Gwyn,’ he shouted, ‘one to go.’

Anwen was shaking with fury. Her own doctor; the man who had seen her through chicken pox, whooping cough and measles was now trying to kill her and her son. She ground her teeth and felt the prickling of power surging within her, demanding release. She squirmed under Gwyn’s protection and he tightened his grip. ‘Stay down,’ he whispered.

Click. Flash. Boom.

Dai’s agonising cry filled the night and then all went still. Gwyn could hear nothing but the pounding of blood in his ears. He was blind and deaf as he clung on to his family and then came the lights … headlights.

Gary pulled up next to his father’s Land Rover, put the gearstick in to neutral and pulled on the handbrake before opening the door and leaning out. ‘Dad? Dad?’ he called into the night. Click. Flash. Boom. The windscreen exploded into a million glimmering diamonds as one headlight died and one of the tires hissed as it deflated.

Anwen seized her chance. Wrestling from Gwyn’s iron grip she stood up, allowing her anger to build into a painful crescendo inside her head. He was standing with his back to her, his head bowed to the sights of his gun, ready to pull the trigger again; she didn’t hesitate.

She released a searing ball of fury from her clawed hand; a globe of burning retribution, of anger and disillusionment, of sorrow and reprisal. It hit Selwyn just below his shoulder blades and he erupted in a burning bonfire. His arms flayed as his screams filled the graveyard, his body black beneath the hellish orange glow of the flames as they consumed him.

Anwen watched numbly as Selwyn’s body collapsed, vanishing between the gravestones bearing silent witness as they flickered yellow and orange.

‘Dai? Gary?’ Gwyn shouted as he got to his feet, holding Davy’s head to his shoulder, shielding him from the nightmare.

‘Gwyn?’ Gary peered from behind the car door. ‘Is that you? What the hell’s goin’ on? Where’s Dad?’

‘Here,’ a croaky whisper answered from the darkness.

‘Gary!’ Gwyn waved his free arm and stumbled between the graves. ‘He’s here somewhere!’

They searched together, the lone headlight lighting their quest and they hunted behind every stone and tomb. ‘Here, you blind buggers.’ Dai’s waved a feeble hand as he lay propped against a limestone tomb.

‘Dad!’ Gary fell to his knees. ‘Dad, are you hurt?’

It was obvious he was seriously injured. Dai had both hands pressed to his stomach and blood leaked between his fingers.

‘We’ve got to get him to a doctor!’ Gary wailed.

‘The doctor is dead.’ Anwen’s cold voice cut over them. ‘We must get him to a Dderwydd Ddrych and to the Druids – they will heal him.’

‘Whose is the nearest?’ Gary was close to panic.

‘Take me home, Gwyn.’ Dai whispered, ‘We can get to the Druids from there.’

‘Oh God, my tire was shot!’ Gary’s shrill voice wobbled.

‘My car’s here. Stop panicking Gary, you’re making me nervous.’ Dai’s voice was barely above a whisper.

‘Come on.’ Gwyn passed Davy to Anwen. ‘Let’s get you out of here, Dai.’

Gwyn and Gary lifted him between them and like drunken sailors they swayed and staggered under his weight. The graveyard had returned to its haunted hushed vigil, two more bodies left behind.

Dai grunted as they slid him into the back of his own Land Rover. Gary stayed in the back, Anwen and Davy took the passenger seat as Gwyn drove like a madman down the country lanes, swinging into bends and accelerating out of them as he tore towards Dai’s farmhouse.

‘Nearly there!’ Gwyn shouted over the roar of the engine, ‘Hang in there, Dai, we’re nearly there!’

Davy swayed and bobbed on his mother’s lap as the Land Rover swerved and bounced. His eyes blinked slowly as he watched the bleached outline of hedgerows fly past to either side of him. ‘
Y ddraig yn dod, mam.’