The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (47 page)

White light filled her vision, filled her head and the same terrible dragging sensation pulled at every fibre of her being, but Taliesin had been right, the second time was not as painful as the first and they emerged
in Gwydir forest, not many miles from where they had first met. ‘It is a short walk to the next Cerdd Carega that leads to the Dell.’ Gwrnach started off, Taliesin and Anwen rushing to keep up.

There was snow on the ground, Anwen hadn’t realised it had snowed at home.
As they skirted the edge of the forest Anwen instinctively looked towards the farm. If she ran, she could be there in no time. Her heart lurched with homesickness. ‘You will see them soon, I promise.’ Taliesin still had hold of her hand. She shook it free.

They turned into the forest and shortly arrived at another
Cerdd Carega in the centre of a clearing. ‘From here we travel to the Dell … you’ll have to hold Taliesin’s hand again.’ Gwrnach tried not to smile; this girl was spirited.

‘Why did we not travel straight there?’ Anwen asked.

‘Ah, so here is your first lesson.’ Gwrnach knelt down and picked up a large stick, although in his hand it looked no more than a small twig. ‘Imagine this line as a Human road.’ He drew a line in the snow, brushing away the odd pine needle that stuck up through the blanket of white. ‘Just like one of your roads, we use the lay lines to travel from one place to another … the Cerdd Carega are like road turnings: to get to a certain place you must follow the roads and sometimes turn off onto a new road to reach your destination.’ He dropped the stick. ‘This is one of those road turnings. We need to turn onto a new road that leads to the Dell. Do you understand?’

‘Kind of.’ Anwen looked down at his drawings
. ‘But how do you know which way to go?’

‘Ah, good question!’ Gwrnach stood up again and brushed the snow off his knees
. ‘Some of it can be taught, just like you know how to get around your village – yes?’ She nodded. ‘And other times, you have to feel your way.’

‘You mean guess which way?’ Anwen stared up at him.

‘No. I mean feel your way. Sometimes you have to hold the place you want in your mind and
feel
the right way there.’ Gwrnach pulled at his beard. ‘It is difficult to explain. Here let us go to the Dell and then see if you can bring us back here. It is a short journey and a good place to commence your training.’ The three of them joined hands and vanished.

The
Dell was beautiful. Not only did it look beautiful, it felt beautiful, peaceful and calm, as if the world’s troubles could not penetrate. Anwen had no time to explore the beautiful vale; Gwrnach was keen to commence with training. ‘Come, let us see if you have a feel for this while Taliesin goes and sees if any of the
Tylwyth Teg
can be found.’

‘Faeries?’ Anwen asked incredulously. Gwrnach looked down at her. ‘If you say so, yes,’ he replied. Anwen’s eyebrows were as high on her forehead as they could get.

‘I’ll meet you in the
Dell.’ Taliesin walked away from them leaving footprints in his wake.

‘So, let us begin
.’ Gwrnach was pulling at his beard as he gathered his thoughts. ‘Put your hand on the Cerdd Carega – that’s it – flatten your palm against it.’ She followed his instruction. ‘Can you feel anything?’

Anwen concentrated. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of the cold stone on her open hand. She could feel the rough texture of the stone, the coldness leeching into her fingers a
nd then she felt something else: a pulsing sensation, a throbbing of … something. There was also a sound, distant and low, like an un-tuned radio in another room. ‘I feel it!’ she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut.

‘Marvellous! Wonderful!’ She felt Gwrnach take her free hand. ‘Now, picture where you want to be – back in Gwydir forest.’

She brought the image in her head. It was clear in her mind, every tree, the path where she first met Taliesin. ‘Okay.’

‘Now, push yourself there. Hold the picture in your head and push.’ Gwrnach’s voice sounded distant, the throbbing of the stone pulsed in her ears.

She pushed against the stone, both with her hand and her mind and then it began. White light, the pulling sensation, the keening in her ears and then it abruptly stopped. She staggered as she opened her eyes. ‘I did it!’ she yelled excitedly, ‘I did it!’

‘Yes you did!’ Gwrnach was laughing
. ‘You did it, you clever girl! Now again, back to the Dell.’

The way back was much more difficult. She had to use all her mental strength to push her way back, but she succeeded and Gwrnach was delighted. ‘Come, let us tell Taliesin the good news!’

Anwen’s smile vanished. ‘Why are you so angry with him?’ Gwrnach asked as they made their way towards the Dell. Anwen’s leg throbbed painfully and her limp enhanced as she followed Gwrnach’s huge strides.

‘I don’t know.’ Anwen swallowed a wave of blubbering
. ‘I just … I thought … I’m angry with both of us.’

‘Ah
,’ Gwrnach said, as if he knew exactly what she meant; he didn’t, but he let it alone.

Taliesin was waiting by the fire pit in the
Dell. ‘No sign of anyone. Mine are the only tracks, the place is deserted.’

Gwrnach looked around
. The place was indeed deserted, not a living creature stirred. ‘Taliesin, Anwen did it – she can use the Cerdd Carega!’

Taliesin smiled at Anwen, but his heart held sorrow. He’d
hoped in a way that Anwen would not succeed in using the
Cerdd Carega and thus keep her from harm but on the other hand, he was pleased that she would be able to reach the Pride. ‘I’m happy for you,’ he said to her.

‘Happier for yourself
,’ she snapped back. ‘So, Gwrnach,’ she said in a sweeter tone, ‘where is the Cerdd Carega to the Pride?’

‘Come, I will show you, but please let me carry you, the snow is deep and your leg is
hurting you.’ He stepped towards her and carefully lifted her in his arms. He set off towards the far end of the Dell with Anwen nestled safely in his arms and Taliesin trailed behind them, his head low and his shoulders slumped.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The car journey to the mountains of Eryri had been a nail biting ride. Glyn-Guinea did not appear to know where the brake pedal was and there had been a number of bends in the road that Dafydd could have sworn would have been the end of him, but they had survived. Two near misses and a number of swerves later, they arrived at Pen y Pass
. A solitary snow covered car park surrounded by the desolate grasslands greeted them.

They left the
Land Rover and began trudging up a steep path towards where Glyn-Guinea swore there was a door leading to Maen-Du: Halls of the Druid.

It was tough going through the snow and yet, Glyn-Guinea the oldest of the three,
ploughed on ahead, stabbing his stick into the snow and blowing bellows of smoke from his pipe as he led the way, Bara happily trotted alongside Dafydd.

‘Where
’re we headed?’ Gwyn called between panting.

‘We’re heading for the Pyg Track but we’ll be veering off when we get to Llyn Llydaw
,’ Glyn-Guinea answered in a puff of smoke.

‘The lake?’ Gwyn shoved his hands in his pockets, he was getting cold, he’d been outdoors all day. ‘Is it far from there?’

‘Nope.’ Glyn-Guinea continued his march up the pathway, his boots leaving their mark in the snow with Dafydd’s and Gwyn’s adding to the impressions, marking their path.

It was hard going but eventually they crested a hill and looked down onto the murky lake nestled in the valley, a backdrop of craggy outcrops led the eye upwards towards the mountain tops covered in ice, snow and shrouded in mist.

Glyn-Guinea paused a moment to relight his pipe before pointing into the valley. ‘There’s a cave just up there.’ He pointed to a gap in the crags above the lake, well away from the path. ‘It’s going to be tricky in the snow, but once we’re inside all we have to do is find the bell.’

‘The bell?’ Gwyn almost laughed out loud. ‘Ah, come on, Glyn, who you trying to kid? I’m not in the mood for messing round, so come on and just tell us where the entrance to Maen-Du is.’

Glyn-Guinea inhaled another puff of smoke and turned to Dafydd. ‘Problem with the young’ens today is they have no imagination.’ He began the descent up to the cave mouth and pointedly ignored Gwyn. ‘Not long now Dafydd,’ he called back, ‘we’ll see what’s what soon enough.’

Dafydd followed as did Gwyn who was struggling with finding a safe purchase for his feet, and he noted that Glyn-Guinea was having no such problem. Dafydd surefootedly trudged behind Glyn-Guinea, lost in his own thoughts – thoughts of Anwen, thoughts of Bryn-Wisgi – was he gone or did the Druids have him safely on their side of the mirror?

Dafydd shook his head; what was he thinking trudging up a snow covered mountain in search of an entrance into Maen-Du? What did he think they were going to do, just hand Anwen over with an apology for treading on the toes of the Chosen? ‘Bah!’ he barked. ‘What the hell are we doing?’ He stopped in his tracks and the others stopped for him.

‘Problem?’ Glyn-Guinea pulled the pipe from his mouth.

‘What are we doing? The village is in uproar; the mirrors are dangerous – dangerous and sitting in our houses, Ysbrydion are lurking behind the glass, waiting.’ He shivered. ‘Bryn-Wisgi is either dead or missing and here we are traipsing up a mountain to find a door that may or may not be there, in the hopes that the Druids will hand Anwen back so we can all go home.’ He panted as he finished his speech.

‘And your point?’ Glyn-Guinea concentrated on relighting his pipe and Bara took the opportunity to sit down on the heath and rest her paws. ‘The door to Maen-Du is here.’ He pointed his pipe in the direction of the shallow cave they had stopped in front of. ‘All we have to do is find the bell, and then whatever happens … happens.’ He pulled at his pipe, smoke escaping from between his teeth.

‘Find the bell?’ Gwyn shared a sceptical glance with his father. ‘What bell?’ He spread his hands to the shallow cave. The cave was more of a sheltered den; it wasn’t particularly deep, the roof was formed of a large stone slab that had come to rest at a shallow angle affording shelter from the elements. The interior smelled of sheep.

Glyn-Guinea leaned heavily on his walking stick and gave Gwyn such a withering look that Gwyn suddenly felt six years old and so he dropped his head, abashed.

‘The exact location of the bell has long been lost in my memory.’ Glyn-Guinea chewed on his pipe. ‘I was only a lad the last time I came here with my grandfather but what I do remember is it is hidden in the cave wall. All you have to do is pull on the stones and one will come off in your hand. If it is the right one, it will be attached to a chain … yank it.’ He sat down in the shelter of the cave in a huff and rifled through his pockets until he produced a small silver flask. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked Gwyn. ‘Find the bloody bell before we freeze to death … Dafydd, a snifter?’ He offered the flask to Dafydd and sat down beside him.

‘Well, Gwyn?’ Dafydd took a slug of whiskey from the flask. ‘Hurry up and find the bloody bell.’ Gwyn glared at their backs but set to work running his hands over the cave walls, pulling at every handhold and fissure. ‘I can’t find it,’ Gwyn moaned as he blew on his numbing fingers. ‘I’ve checked everywhere.’

‘Everywhere?’ Glyn-Guinea struggled to his feet and joined Gwyn in the cave. ‘Did you try this one?’ He placed his hand on a rounded cleft located at the junction between the roof and walls, yanking a sliver of rock towards him. It was attached to a metal chain covered with a waxed sleeve. He raised an eyebrow at Gwyn and let the chain retract the rock back into position.

‘You knew where it was all along!’ Gwyn said accusingly. Glyn-Guinea feigned innocence with open palms before he straightened his jacket and faced the back of the cave. Dafydd and Gwyn came to stand behind him. They waited for minute after minute but no one came, nothing happened. ‘Ring it again,’ Dafydd suggested but Glyn-Guinea shook his head.

‘They’ll come when they’re ready, we just have to wait.’

They continued to stand in the cave, stamping their feet to keep warm and pulling up their collars from the gusts of icy wind that blew down from the mountain.

Gwyn grew increasingly inpatient and turned to look out of the mouth of the cave and down onto the lake beneath them. At first he presumed the ripples on the lake were caused by the wind but the more he stared, the stranger they seemed and then it dawned on him; instead of the waves following the wind direction, they rippled outwards from the centre of the lake and expanded out to the shore. ‘Uh, Dad … is that normal?’ He tapped his father’s shoulder.

Dafydd turned and followed where his son pointed. At first he didn’t see it but then he too made sense of what he was seeing. ‘Uh, Glyn … you might want to look at this.’

Glyn-Guinea tutted and spun around, frustrated at the Morgans’ inability to be patient and focused. ‘What?’ he said grumpily, and he too looked down onto the lake’s surface. ‘Good god,’ he breathed.

The lake’s surface continued to ripple outwards from the centre, larger and larger the waves of water lapping on the shore became, but most terrifying of all were the colours flashing through the water. Black and red slashes of light danced just under the surface, spinning and darting in random directions, over and under each other, weaving back and forth.

‘Gwyn, ring the bloody bell again.’ Glyn-Guinea was transfixed. ‘And don’t stop bloody ringing!’ They all pulled back into the shelter of the cave and Gwyn rang the bell like a man possessed while Dafydd and Glyn-Guinea watched the lake beneath them boil. ‘Ysbrydion,’ Glyn-Guinea breathed, ‘may God have mercy on us.’

In the distance they heard a horn blow deep and low across the valley. It echoed a warning, an alarm, that none still living had ever heard before, until now. ‘The Druids are calling all the brethren to arms.’ Glyn-Guinea clutched at Dafydd’s sleeve.
‘Come ye brothers when black horn doth call, come ye brothers one and all, come ye warriors, enchanters both, come to join the mighty Host …’ Dafydd listened in silent dread as Glyn-Guinea recited. ‘Ring that bloody bell, Gwyn!’ he shouted over his shoulder.

‘I am!’ Gwyn called back.