The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (81 page)

Gwyn lay writhing on the floor, clutching his scorched shoulder. One of the Druids had already lanced him with Derwydd yn
tân
when Arawn had reared up from the darkness and snatched the child from his arms.

Anwen was in the clutches of the third Druid who was commanding her to kneel. He stood behind her and held her by her hair as she fought against him. ‘Get off me!’ She tried to kick out, tried to twist her body so she could blast him with her own power, but he was much stronger, much larger than her and she fought in vain.

‘Do as he says Anwen.’ Awel was already on her knees with her hands placed behind her head, one of Arawn’s Druids stood directly behind her, arm raised ready to wield Derwydd yn
tân
and strike her down at Arawn’s command.

‘Your struggles are futile, little woman.’ Arawn stood behind the protective semi-circle of his
Bradychwr-Druids holding the small boy tight to his chest. ‘Your son is mine now and soon we will be joined.’

Anwen screamed a curse and lashed out with her foot, catching the Druid with a vicious kick to the shin, but she was off balance and so he pushed her to the floor, tightening his grip on her hair and kneeing her between the shoulder blades, knocking the wind out of her.

Arawn raised his head, sniffed the air and smiled. ‘We have company.’ He gripped the child tighter. ‘Awel, seal the circle, if you please.’

‘And if I don’t please?’ Awel kept her voice calm but inside she seethed.

Arawn nodded to the Druid standing over Gwyn. The Druid pulled back his arm and then punched Gwyn on his burnt shoulder, Gwyn howled in pain.

‘Enough!’ Awel yelled. ‘I will do as you ask.’ She removed one hand from behind her head and with it picked up an oak twig and began carving the final rune into the damp earth. The rune connected to a further two runes that in turn connected to a circle drawn around the entire width of the oak tree’s canopy. Not unlike an alchemic circle that trapped those within inside; this runic circle was drawn to keep all those outside of it out.

Awel had to admire Arawn’s tenacity, he had succeeded where all others had failed; he had found and captured Anwen Morgan and more importantly, her son, the Hanner-Bridia. He had also chosen a perfect place to defend himself; the oak tree’s boughs denied any attack from above and his runic circle protected him from any attack from the ground. Arawn was as devious as he was tenacious.

Awel dropped the twig. ‘It is done.’ She twisted her head to view Arawn from the corner of her eye. ‘Let the girl and her brother go, they are no threat to you.’ She could just see Davy, he was pressed against Arawn’s chest, facing outwards and looking completely calm as his arms and legs limply dangled. He gave Awel a quick, soothing smile.

Arawn moved from her sight, taking Davy with him. ‘No-one leaves the circle until it is over.’ He came to stand beside her. ‘Besides, Awel, you and they have the best seats in the house.’ He nodded his head and looked beyond the circle. ‘All the others must watch from outside.’ Awel raised her head.

They had come too late; Chosen, Druids, Pride and Host were heading towards the oak tree, among them darted tiny Tylwyth Teg, skipping and dancing between those gathered to bear witness to Arawn’s imminent ascension. Above their heads dragons circled on thermals ridden by the remainder of the Host.

‘Welcome!’ Arawn called to them all, a smile playing on his thin, grey lips. ‘Welcome to the dawning of a new age!’

Misshapen and adorned with huge antlers, the once hunched back now uncoiled but still stooped. The distorted but recognisable face of the former Councillor, Afagddu sneered as Aeron loped towards the oak tree, knives drawn and muscles taught. ‘Greetings, Aeron Ddu, Usurper of the Winter Realm.’

Aeron’s eyes bulged with rage and he came to a halt outside the circle. ‘You dare call me usurper?’ He took a step forward and waved away Taliesin as he tried to step forward as well. ‘A thief and a murderer dares to call me usurper? Your twisted soul is not fit to rule – not before, not now, not ever!’ He sneered back at Arawn. ‘Come out and fight me, Arawn, let us see who is rightfully King.’

Arawn let the tirade wash over him, chuckling and mumbling to himself. ‘Look at him!’ He smirked at Aeron’s outburst. ‘Pathetic and impotent … yes, yes, he will face the R’hela … yes, yes, you will be my Councillor … be silent now.’  He looked up and cast is eyes over the gathering, pointedly ignoring Aeron.

‘Look at you all,’ he said, pointing a finger at the crowd, ‘look at what you have become.’ He glared at them, meeting every eye. ‘Bwy Hir,’ he spat, as if it tasted fowl, ‘you are not Bwy Hir! You are a shadow of what the Bwy Hir were, and look at your Druids – once they were lawgivers and alchemists, respected and feared by all and now they are reduced to nothing more than servants and messengers – pathetic!’

‘And the Chosen.’ He rounded on them. ‘How dare they have the audacity to be on their feet – kneel dogs! Know your place, underlings – scoundrels!’ They shuffled their feet and bowed their heads but remained standing. Arawn looked down his nose in disgust. ‘Mark me, I will shake the Triskele to its very foundations and rebuild it in its former image – too far you have fallen!’ Spittle flew from his lips as he bawled his contempt. ‘All will feel my wrath – none shall be spared – we are Bwy Hir! We are gods!’

He glared at them, scowled and sneered at their silence. ‘It is time.’ He lifted the child and spun him to face him. ‘You are about to become King,’ he whispered as the child’s eyes met his, ‘I shall take your body and we will be one.’ The child was so calm, so unafraid, so innocent. Arawn smiled. ‘Are you ready?’

Anwen screamed out but the child smiled and nodded, placed two little hands on the silver torc that decorated Arawn’s neck and then opened his mouth, ready to begin.

‘Good boy.’ Arawn closed his eyes and prepared himself. Slowly, the first inky tendril left Arawn’s mouth and snaked towards the child. The child closed his eyes too and a snow white wisp escaped from his lips, twisting and curling itself around the inky tendril.

Arawn’s eyes shot open in alarm. He tried to jerk his head away, to snap his jaws shut but the white tendril had wound itself tightly and began to pull Arawn’s spirit upwards towards the oak’s heavy boughs. Eyes bulging and throat constricted in horror, Arawn watched helplessly as his spirit was dragged from Afagddu’s body.

The two spirits were locked in a twisted coil, black and white, dark and light, they spiralled up into the shaded canopy, twisting and snaking through the boughs, sealed in a silent battle.

All heads were turned watching the two spirits writhe and struggle until at last the final tendrils left both bodies and they slumped to the floor together. Awel made her move as the
Bradychwr-Druids turned their heads to watch Afagddu’s body hit the floor; she reached down and dragged her hand over the earth, obliterating the runes. Aeron rushed in, lashing out wildly with his hunting knife he struck the Druid holding Awel in the throat, pulled out the knife then threw it hard at the second who caught it in his eye and tumbled backwards. Awel struck the third in the chest with a bolt of lightning; his body trembled and then collapsed.

Taliesin rushed forward, scooped up the child and ran to Anwen as she staggered to her feet. He placed a protective arm around her shoulder and propelled her to safety. Awel clambered over the fallen Druids and pulled Gwyn to his feet as the tree above their heads began to moan and creak. ‘Quickly boy!’ she shouted above the din, ‘Hurry!’ She pulled him with her, away from the oak tree and into the protective arms of the Pride.

Aeron stood looking up into the huge sprawling canopy of the oak. Sparks of energy flashed among the leaves as the two spirits raged and thrashed amongst the boughs that moaned and groaned under the mass of churning, weaving spectres. A loud crack sounded and Aeron made his retreat as the Tylwyth Teg rushed forward together and began circling the tree, skipping and dancing as they sang:

‘
Rage, rage, the Triskele tree,

Darkness shrouds the broken three,

Come cruel tempest, broiling skies,

Broken limbs to cast aside,

Quiver, tremble, Triskele tree,

Once was bound is now set free.’

Round and around the Tylwyth Teg danced as the oak groaned and shook. Leaves began to flutter downwards, turning from emerald green to brown as they fell to the earth and scattered across the field caught by a purgative breeze.

Huge ancient branches began to reveal themselves, groaning as lightning flashed between them, sparking, flashing and flaring as the two spirits merged and boiled. The Tylwyth Teg spun faster and faster, chanting and clapping until they suddenly stopped and dropped to the ground, covering their heads with their hands.

All the gathering looked first at the Tylwyth Teg and then up at the tree before taking a step backwards, shying away as a fork of lightning burst from the sky. A white, blinding flash struck, the heavy boughs heaved and then the tree erupted into flames burning orange and gold, licking the branches, burning fiercely, sizzling and crackling as it consumed and blazed.

The Tylwyth Teg slowly rose to the
ir feet. ‘Mae'n fwy na: It is done.’ Without a backwards glance at the burning tree they scampered off back towards the Dell, singing and skipping as they went.

Aeron looked to the sky. The dragon-mounted Host spun in lazy circles before steering off towards Maen-Du, carrying the news with them.

‘Is it truly over?’ Mab slipped her arm through Aeron’s and joined him in staring up at the sky that had changed from grey to pink as the sun slowly rose over the mountains to announce a new day.

‘The Lost may reside in peace this day.’ He patted her hand. ‘Although they will never know how close they came to destruction.’

‘Do you believe we are shadows of what we once were?’ Mab looked into Aeron’s black eyes. ‘Are the Bwy Hir fading into myth?’

Aeron took a moment to answer. ‘I believe we are what we are.’ He smiled a tight, tired smile. ‘I also believe that as long as the Triskele holds then we will endure.’

‘And does the Triskele hold?’

Aeron lifted his hand and cast his gaze over the faces gathered around him. ‘Look about you, Mab, we stood together. In our darkest hour we stood shoulder to shoulder: the Triskele, together, united.’

‘Mother. Father.’ Taliesin came to stand before them and presented Anwen Morgan and her child – their grandson. Anwen held her son protectively against her as she looked up at them with challenge in her eyes. Aeron looked at the boy, his eyes were half shut as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, his little thumb was jammed in his mouth, but in one hand he held out Aeron’s torc.

‘Is he well?’ Aeron asked as he accepted the torc and peered down at the child. ‘Is he…’

‘Normal? Unhurt? Untainted?’ Awel joined the family group, aiding Gwyn to walk as he nursed his shoulder. She snorted as Aeron raised an eyebrow. ‘The child is well enough, let that be enough for one day.’

Mab nodded in agreement. ‘How bad is your wrist?’

‘Not as painful as his shoulder.’ Awel gently leaned Gwyn forward. ‘He is in far worse shape than me.’ Gwyn groaned as he sat up, his shoulder burned mercilessly and he felt weak and cold, he shivered as Mab gently touched his scorched skin.

‘We must get everyone back to the Dell.’ Mab stood up, smoothed her silk robes, and raised her voice. ‘Chosen, Druid, Bwy Hir. Come, let us seek healing, refreshment and kinship in the comfort and safety of the Dell.’

Aeron shook his head. ‘Take everyone with you and I will join you presently but first I must return to Maen-Du.’

Mab nodded her head. ‘Send the remainder of the Host and any Druid who wishes to join us, they will be most welcome.’

Aeron bowed his head. ‘I will see to it.’

‘Come, then.’ Mab turned her back on the burning tree and led the procession back into the forest.

EPILOGUE

Aeron ground his teeth and glared at Cadno who slyly smiled back at him. The bargain had been struck and could not be undone. Aeron had dragged Cadno out of his sickbed and demanded to know the truth. Unsatisfied with Cadno’s justification of his actions Aeron had hauled him to the Cerdd Carega that led to the Dell and made his ultimatum: if Cadno could gain entry to the Dell then Aeron would let him re-join the Host.

Cadno had sweated and pleaded until to his surprise as much as Aeron’s he had disappeared through the Cerdd Carega and reappeared in the Dell. Only later was it discovered that the Tylwyth Teg had vanished from the Dell and whether that affected the ability for evil to enter had yet to be discerned, so for now at least, Cadno had regained his place amongst his brethren.

As was usual with a Ransom, the Pride gathered on one side and the Host gathered on the other, only this Ransom being held in the Dell differed greatly from previous Ransoms: the Druids and the Chosen were present.

Aeron cleared his throat and took centre stage. ‘It is the will of the Host that the child spends each Winter in Maen-Du as is right and proper.’ A chorus of approval sounded from the Druids.

‘He belongs on the farm with his mother and his uncle.’ Glyn-Guinea shouted out, receiving approval from the other Chosen gathered around him.

‘And it is our will that he spends the Summer in the Dell,’ Mab retorted, ‘so where does that leave us?’

Gwenllian Gwiddon shook her head sadly and patted Anwen and Gwyn on their shoulders before hobbling into the arena. Aeron raised his eyebrows and stared down at the hideous elderly woman. ‘You have no sway here,’ he told her, as she craned her neck to look up into his face.

‘Which is why I am probably the only one here that can see reason,’ she snapped back.

Aeron folded his arms but nodded for her to continue. ‘The way I see it,’ she began, ‘is that the best place for the boy is with his mother.’ That brought a jeer from the Chosen. ‘However,’ she drawled and the Chosen quietened down, ‘it is right that the boy also spends time with his father
and
his grandparents. Therefore I would suggest that he should remain on the farm but be able to visit the Dell regularly during the summer months and Maen-Du during the Winter months. It is the only way he will truly discover who he is and what he may become.’

‘And what of his education?’ Elder Tomas interceded, ‘The boy must be schooled properly.’

Gwenllian had already prepared herself for that question. ‘He should be home schooled of course; he is special and cannot benefit from the village school.’ Anwen wrinkled her nose but remained silent allowing Gwenllian to finish. ‘He should have two tutors; a Druid and one from the Gwrachod – one I believe Gwyn has already met and taken quite a shine to.’ She looked at Gwyn who was already blushing as he remembered the petite, dark haired, fair skinned woman that had caused his heart to skip a beat.

‘I am happy for that arrangement if it satisfies Anwen.’ Taliesin smiled as Anwen looked at him. There was no longer any love between them; they were too different now, but there was an affection and a mutual love for the child. Anwen smiled back and nodded her head.

‘Agreed.’ Mab’s voice rang out. ‘Although it should be mentioned here and now that although Gwyn Morgan has been reinstated as Chosen he may not attend the Solstice as we consider it erroneous to receive the blood of one related to the child.’

‘The child has a name.’ Gwyn folded his arms.

‘That is yet to be agreed,’ Mab replied pleasantly but firmly.

‘His name is Dafydd Gwyn Morgan.’ Anwen folded her arms too.

‘His name,’ Awel interjected, ‘needs to be discussed between Anwen and Taliesin and is none of our concern.’

‘Agreed.’ Aeron folded his arms. ‘Now to other business and foremost is the matter of the ateb.’

Awel leaned forward. ‘You still refuse to consent to the new one?’

Elder Tomas moved into the circle and replaced Gwenllian. ‘We have now had opportunity to study Taliesin’s ateb and believe we can fuse it with our own and thus reduce its violent affect and enhance its ability to aid fertility, yet render it useless to … procreate with Humans.’

Aeron cleared his throat. ‘This is our compromise. Taliesin’s ateb must be banned and all record of its components destroyed.’

The Pride leaned in and conversed in whispers before Awel raised her head. ‘Agreed.’

On and on the Ransom continued; every matter, every grievance and proposal was given its due. Glyn-Guinea was desperate for a puff on his pipe, fingers strayed towards his pocket and Dai Jones leaned over to whisper. ‘Gwenllian is watching you like a hawk.’

Glyn-Guinea tutted. ‘In some ways she is worse than Nissyen for rubbing me up the wrong way … I wonder if he remembers what he was and how much he annoyed me.’

In the bowels of Maen-Du a new Helgi, only just found wandering in the fields, had been returned to the kennels. It was dehydrated, undernourished and had some malformation that hunched its withers and stooped its head. It growled and snarled when anyone came near it, its hackled raised and its teeth flashed when another Helgi so much as looked at it. But there was one Helgi that was unafraid; it paced back and forth in front of the malformed Helgi, challenging it, daring it to strike and raising its bark above the howls of the others: this Helgi believed in order and rank, this Helgi would see to it that the malformed Helgi would remain at the bottom of the pack where it belonged.

THE END