The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (56 page)

Feeding them blood increased their substance
. Their crimson frames pulsed with blood, fleshing their forms, bringing life to their spectre. The added Bwy Hir blood increased their longevity and stamina, giving them the strength and substance of warriors, but the effects were temporal and less potent with each dose. They too would need new bodies eventually but like Arawn, they wanted true-blood forms, they wanted Bwy Hir bodies.

Arawn had promised them they would receive Bwy Hir bodies, but for that they would need nine true-blood bodies, or at least
Hanner-Bridia bodies, and for that Arawn would need more than just Atgas: he would need a harem. Atgas wondered whether that had been Arawn’s initial plan, why he had been so keen to gain entry to the Pride’s lair. But he had arrived too late; the Pride had escaped. Atgas felt a surge of pleasure at Arawn’s failure. How did Arawn intend to provide the Wraith Warriors their own bodies now? Arawn’s power was waning, his plans were falling apart. Atgas needed to start making plans of her own, just in case.

Atgas was keen to see the spoils of their expedition
. ‘What have your warriors won?’ she asked Arawn as he strolled among the group, offering words of acknowledgment and credit. 

He turned to Atgas
and said, ‘Come with me, my Queen and I will show you.’ He offered her his hand and led her towards the Druid mirror. A small troop of turncoat Seekers stood guarding the Wraith Warrior’s spoils, their Helgi growling and grumbling at their heels.

The turncoats, or Faithful as they were now named were all marked with the symbol of Arawn. A horned skull was branded into their skin above their breast, solemnising them as Arawn’s own, identifying them as a devotee to the Horned King. When they were among Arawn’s militia all the Faithful would unbind their shirts, allowing the branding to show, identifying themselves as loyal and therefore hopefully safe from the mistreatment reserved for adversaries and prisoners. Atgas smirked at the Faithful’s foolishness
- no branding would protect them from a Wraith Warrior or Cŵn Annwn should the urge to attack come upon them; the Faithful were full of blood after all.

The Seekers stood back as Arawn and Atgas approached, revealing an assortment of new arrivals herded together in a holding pen. Atgas wrinkled her nose.

‘Welcome, welcome.’ Arawn lifted a torch above his head, spreading light over the crowd of faces. They were a mixed bunch: A new Seeker with his Helgi stood tall and undaunted in the crowd, his eager eyes fixed on Arawn. Two young Druids stood to the left of him, they were cowering and white-faced. Atgas wondered whether they would be turned to their cause or sent to the pens as blood donors. There were three men, presumably farmers, who all looked similar and were obviously related. These three were definitely for the pens, as were the scattering of snivelling women with them. The last one was a surprise to Atgas; she caught her breath. ‘Cristion?’ She looked wide eyed to Arawn for confirmation.

‘Yes,’ he chuckled, ‘my warriors have found me a Cristi
on, a preacher no less.’ Arawn leaned down to inspect the dishevelled little man. Reverend Morgan shied away as the huge figure descended towards him. Never in all his dreams and nightmares had Reverend Morgan ever set eyes on such a malevolent figure as the one towering over him. ‘Be gone, devil!’ Reverend Morgan shrieked as he lifted his arm above his head to protect himself, brandishing his bible like a shield.

Arawn’s face split into an amused grin
. ‘Oh, you’ll do just fine, holy man.’ He stood erect and beamed down at the vicar. ‘You’ll do just fine.’ He rubbed his chin in consideration. ‘Tell me, holy man, do you know your Bible well?’ Reverend Morgan peered over the crook of his arm and began to mutter. ‘Speak up, holy man,’ Arawn commanded.

The v
icar raised his voice. ‘The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen.’

Arawn’s smile deepened
. ‘Yes, you’ll do just fine.’ He turned to his Seekers. ‘Bring him.’ He pointed to the vicar. ‘I have need of what is in his head – just keep him away from the Wraith Warriors.’

Atgas absently wondered why Arawn needed a
holy man but her attention was grabbed by the remaining spoils heaped behind the newcomers. There was plenty of livestock, bleating and shoving in the depths of the pen. Atgas dismissed them; her gaze was fastened on a small chest lying half open on the mossy grass.

‘A gift for you
.’ Arawn smiled and then turned his back, making preparations to process the remainder of the newly arrived. Atgas was delighted. The chest was brimming with jewellery. She motioned for another Seeker to collect the chest and he followed her out of the pens and back towards her couch where she could trawl over her gifts undisturbed.

Arawn watched her leave. Hopefully the baubles would keep her distracted long enough to keep her unaware of his new plans. Pawing over the Bwy Hir Chronicles had reaffirmed his self-belief. It was prophesied that he would come again, that the very heavens would shake in his rebirth. He had also deciphered something that would make him more powerful than any Bwy Hir that ever lived. A
Hanner-Bridia’s body gave him access to the one place no Bwy Hir could ever reach; he would be eligible to speak to God himself and God would hear him and answer his prayers. He would be above mortal, above Bwy Hir and he was destined to become the most feared and powerful being on earth. All Arawn had to do was find the boy and take him.  The woman would either serve to produce him new Hanner-Bridias to ensure his continued immortality or die trying. Once Arawn attained his new body he would reclaim his torc: he would reclaim his title of Winter King and all the Pride would be his for the taking.

Arawn was destined for success
; it was just a matter of time.

CHAPTER TWO

‘You are sure?’ Aeron asked incredulously to an impatient and vexed Awel. ‘You are certain?’ He pressed her as he took a seat next to the fireplace in his personal chambers and offered Awel the seat opposite.

‘Do you think I would bother to come here otherwise?’ Awel snapped as she folded her arms, remaining upright and scowling at the evident doubt in Aeron’s words.

‘And you think Arawn is behind it all or do you accuse the Druids?’ Aeron folded his legs and picked up a goblet of wine. Awel could have slapped him. She began to tick her points off on her fingers. ‘One, Mary Evans was our only tentative link to Anwen Morgan and the child, and now Mary has died in a house fire – a fire, Aeron, do you not at least consider that suspicious? She did not know Anwen’s location, but at least she would receive contact from her and we therefore at least knew she was safe, we could warn her, but that link has been extinguished … Two, the holy man from the village is missing - a vicar of all things.’ She pressed on. ‘Wraith Warriors were seen on the borders of Ty Mawr Farm, livestock are missing or found savagely killed, people are getting sick –
our
people, Aeron, the Chosen are falling like flies.

‘Three, and most disturbingly is the fact the
Cerdd Carega from the Dell to our lair is broken – it will not work! That means that either the twin has been destroyed or there is an evil force on the other side - the Tylwyth Teg
presence in the Dell stops evil entering. Either way it would seem logical to me that Arawn now resides there and we cannot reach him. He is preparing to make his move, the brazen abductions alone tell me he grows stronger by the day.’

She sighed at Aeron silent, stubborn brooding, ‘Please Aeron, we must investigate the fire and we must counter
-strike at Arawn, but most importantly we must find Anwen Morgan and her child and bring her safely to the Dell. Let the Pride take control of her search, let the Pride have equal footing in this war.’

Aeron shook his head with bitter disappointment
. ‘Ah, so we are back to this.’ He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. ‘And just when I was thinking you were coming here to aid me.’

Awel opened her mouth but he raised a hand to forestall her
. ‘No, Awel, you have said your piece and now I shall say mine. We can no longer slumber, Awel, and as you have said: we are truly at war and thus there is no handover of seasons, as we no longer withdraw from the land I remain in power. I am King. I rule until the threat to the Bwy Hir is over – that is the law.’ He slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair. ‘There is no Solstice in the true meaning of the word. We do not mate in fear of giving Arawn a chance of stealing one of the Pride and thus give him rebirth in Bwy Hir form. The Solstice, the seasons, they no longer mark a shift in power – I am the power and will remain so until Arawn is destroyed.’

‘Then destroy him!’ Awel yelled back, ‘Let us unite and defeat him together.’

They glared at each other across the room. This was an aging argument. Aeron had refused to surrender power to Mab at the turning of the seasons. Lawfully, he had claimed command of a Host in battle and lawfully he was not required to hand over power until the foe was vanquished and the threat annulled, but reasonably, he should at least include the Pride in his decision making and rule, but he refused.

The Pride, for their own safety, had been practically banished to the Dell, Mab’s powers were diminished and the Pride stalked their confines, listless, tired and petulant. Their one joy was Olwyn’s child, whom they indulged completely. She had been a welcome joy, a birth to swell the ranks of the Pride
; one more female and a prospective mate for Taliesin when she came of age. Yet, the child’s arrival had bolstered Aeron’s resolve to keep the Pride safely in the sanctuary of the Dell. No-one truly understood why but the Dell was an oasis of good where evil could not enter, at least as long as the Tylwyth Teg remained there.

Aeron and Awel were at another impasse, the stalemate unbroken, the frustrations compounded. Aeron was tired, so very tired that he no longer wished to continue the endless arguments with Awel on this repetitive subject. ‘Awel,’ he sighed her name as he closed his eyes, absorbing all the patience he could muster, ‘I shall grant you this: you and you alone may venture from the
Dell and seek out Anwen Morgan and her child. No other from the Pride may assist you, nor any from the Host,’ he wagged his finger in warning, ‘only you may to find the girl and child. You are not to meddle in any other matters. You will leave Arawn and his ilk to the Host and the Druids. I shall send one of the Host and some Druids to investigate the “broken” Cerdd Carega.’

Awel frowned but eventually nodded, ‘Thank you.’ She gave a small bow. ‘I will find them and return them both to the Dell.’ Aeron nodded noncommit
tally and Awel gave a small smile. ‘Aeron, listen to me, Arawn will make his move soon, I know he will. Do not trust the Druids. Watch your back and remember, the Pride are warriors too. If the time comes, you must call us to fight.’

Aeron stared at Awel for a few moments and then gave a tight nod
. ‘I will inform the Host of your news and have the Cerdd Carega that leads to the Pride’s lair investigated, but if he lurks there, then he is unreachable.’

Awel turned to go. ‘Look after yourself Aeron Ddu and remember,’ she s
aid over her shoulder, ‘Summer will soon be upon us … there is no snow in Summer, Aeron.’

He smiled wanly and waved her away. His smile evaporated as she closed the door behind her and he resumed his melancholy musings.
Is Awel right? Should I gather the Bwy Hir as one and seek out Arawn in an all-out assault? Or should I continue on my path, protect the Pride and rely on my Host, Druids and Chosen to defend my realm
? ‘My realm!’ he shouted, as he pounded his fist on the arm of the chair.

‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, or so I’m told.’ Celyn-Bach stood patiently at the entrance to the chambers. Aeron hadn’t heard him enter. Celyn-Bach smiled sympathetically as he moved to sit opposite Aeron. ‘I see Awel has been needling you again.’

Aeron grunted. ‘She has more barbs than a hedgehog.’

‘And more wisdom than you give her credit for
,’ Celyn-Bach chided.

Aeron raised his eyebrow but would not be bated
. ‘Wisdom and tenacity are not comely qualities in a female.’

‘Oh?’
It was Celyn-Bach’s turn to raise his eyebrows. ‘So you at least agree she is wise. What did she come to say?’

‘Same as always, but she brought with her more disturbing news.’ Aeron clenched his fist
. ‘She believes Arawn is making ready to move. Too many people are vanishing right under our noses, and I worry what that means.’

‘Do you think he knows? How Anwen Morgan came to be? Is that what he plans?’ Celyn-Bach edged forward in his seat.

‘Maybe, but I doubt it.’ Aeron drew his brow down. ‘None of us, not even Awel the Wise expected the outcome of her actions when Anwen Morgan was born. Only a few of us know how she came to be. But he must wonder how a Human came to carry a Bwy Hir child – a Hanner-Bridia – if he believes the stories, after all, no-one knows where Anwen Morgan is and no-one has seen the child, not even us. But Arawn will be getting desperate; Afagddu’s body must be waning by now.’

‘His only option is for Atgas to conceive or to find the
Hanner-Bridia. With the Pride safely in the Dell, all other avenues are closed to him.’ Celyn-Bach leaned back into his chair, ‘Surely we would have heard if Atgas had managed to sire Arawn’s child? We would have felt his wrath already had Arawn taken Bwy Hir form.’

‘Do we not already feel it?’ Aeron asked
. ‘People vanish, cattle are ravaged or stolen, the land grows sick, people grow ill and we – I – sit here waiting for his next move, waiting for him to show himself.’

‘If we are waiting then we know he is still in
Human form.’ Celyn-Bach pressed his point. ‘We are still weak from his original assault – many of our ranks died that day. The Bwy Hir are divided in two, the Chosen are frightened. If he could match you in strength he would have shown himself by now. He is still weak, still in Human form, he cannot wield true power yet, not until he takes Bwy Hir form.’

‘Anwen Morgan’s
guardian is dead,’ Aeron announced flatly. ‘She was found this morning and her relative, a Chosen doctor was informed. We have lost the one tentative link we had to the girl.’

‘Did the guardian know where Anwen was?’

Aeron shook his head. ‘No. Anwen kept her whereabouts secret even to the ones she trusted.’ He rubbed his temple. ‘But with the guardian dead, we have no link, no contact with Anwen Morgan.’

‘Does she carry Taliesin’s mirror?’ Celyn-Bach was growing increasingly concerned. Again Aeron shook his head
. ‘There is nothing to bind her to us - no link. She is lost to us, but whether the guardian’s death was natural or something more foul …’ He spread his hands. ‘Are Arawn and Atgas one step closer to Anwen Morgan and the child than we are?’ 

Celyn-Bach let the silence stretch as he thought through the implications. Finally he spoke
. ‘What did Awel suggest?’

Aeron barked a bitter laugh
. ‘That she be allowed to seek Anwen and return them to the Dell.’

‘Did you agree?’

Aeron nodded. ‘Yes, but with restrictions. She and only she may hunt for them. No other Bwy Hir may endanger themselves and she is not to meddle in any other matters.’

‘No other restrictions?’ Celyn-Bach asked disbelievingly.

‘No. Why?’ Aeron grew wary. Celyn-Bach smiled knowingly before answering. ‘Awel can wriggle through the tightest knothole. She may not involve the Bwy Hir or Druids – did you stipulate which Druids? Nor may she meddle “in other matters” – vague to say the least. You have given her an awful lot of leeway for manoeuvre.’

For the first time in a long time Aeron threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly
. ‘Out manoeuvred by a female.’ He chuckled. ‘Did I not tell you Celyn-Bach, wisdom and tenacity are not comely qualities in a female.’

‘Yet you have allowed her to put herself in harm’s way
… If she finds the girl and the child, what then?’

Aeron shrugged his shoulders
. ‘They will be held in the Dell, away from Arawn and until this nightmare is over, there they will remain. I have bigger concerns.’

‘What then?’ Celyn-Bach pressed
. ‘What is to become of them?’ Aeron batted the question away with his hand, ‘If the Hanner-Bridia is male, if he blooms, that might change things, but as it stands – what use are they to us? They are not Bwy Hir. Let the Pride deal with them … for now.’

Celyn-Bach pursed his lips
. ‘And what if Anwen Morgan does not wish to be part of our world?’

Aeron was growing jaded
. ‘Then she may go on her merry way – once Arawn is destroyed, but the child stays, it belongs to the Bwy Hir, at least until it is discovered whether or not it will bloom.’ He set down his goblet and stood. ‘Enough. I have many matters that require my attention this day. Come, I go to meet with my Councillor and you are to go to the Dell. Awel says the Cerdd Carega to the Pride’s lair is broken, and I would have you investigate.’