The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (65 page)

‘You have been sorely missed. What news do you bring?’ Mab led Awel to the centre of the hollow. The Bwy Hir waited expectantly.

Awel gathered her thoughts as she looked around the gathering. Cadno was missing, as she expected. ‘I bring darkness and light in my wake,’ she began, ‘and my time here is short, I must return outside as soon as possible for my quest is far from complete.’

The Bwy Hir looked to each other and Awel motioned for them to be seated as she unravelled her story. ‘First I must tell you of what I have witnessed … the Cerdd Carega are being watched by Seekers – there are turncoats among the Druids-’

‘This we know,’ Aeron interrupted, ‘and had I known that earlier, you would have not been granted permission to leave.’

Awel continued, ignoring his remark. ‘The Seekers watching the border stones are also accompanied by Cwn Annwn.’

Gasps and growls erupted from the gathering but Awel waved them to silence. ‘There is more. They are not the Cwn Annwn of old – they cannot travel the Cerdd Carega and so are still earthbound and not yet bound with a Bwy Hir master, which means two things: One, Arawn is still mortal and two, the Cwn Annwn are being aggressively bred somewhere – there are scores of them already. Hence I have brought with me one of the Gwrachod who can help me find their lair and lead us to Arawn; her skills in earthbound magic are unrivalled.’

‘Where is Anwen Morgan?’ Taliesin called out from the crowd.

‘A moment, Tali, I will explain, but I bring darker tidings still … Where is Cadno?’ she turned to Aeron.

‘Why do you ask?’ he replied guardedly.

‘I believe he is in league with Arawn.’ Awel met Aeron’s stare as the Bwy Hir erupted.

‘How dare you?’ Bran was on his feet. ‘What proof do you have to raise such an accusation against one of the Host. It is us that brought the news of traitors within our ranks, we are all free from the taint of Arawn – we have all shown ourselves – all but you!’

Awel met the onslaught passively as she slowly revealed her chest, turning slowly so all could see she bore no mark. Slowly, she shrugged back into her clothes and lifted her head to speak directly to Bran. ‘I believe Arawn’s branding is simply so he and his ilk can distinguish between the Humans that serve him and the Humans that are his enemy. It is also a way that the traitors can identify each other. None such marking would be necessary for the Bwy Hir.’

‘What proof do you have that you call Cadno traitor?’ Bran shot back.

‘Where is he, Bran?’ Awel raised her hands. ‘Where was he just before Arawn struck Maen-Du? Cadno was with Atgas. He also had the only living female Helgi with him.’

‘He explained all that.’ Bran sneered at Awel’s reasoning. ‘And besides he was imprisoned in Dduallt when Arawn struck.’

‘And the only witness to Afagddu’s possession and the theft of the Helgi. How did Arawn know they were there?’ She matched Bran’s sneer. ‘All I say is of course circumstantial, but what I say now, is what I saw with my own eyes but a few days ago. I had hoped to deny it to myself, but I can no longer … Cadno is evil. He cannot enter the Dell.’

‘You talk nonsense!’ Bran shouted angrily as the rest of the Bwy Hir looked to each other and spoke over one another, sceptical, confused and angry at Awel’s revelations.

‘If I talk nonsense,’ Awel shouted over the clamour, ‘then bring him here and I will gladly apologise.’

‘Enough!’ Mab too was on her feet. ‘You have heard Awel. Bring Cadno to us and dispel the charge against him.’

The Pride voiced their agreement as the Host looked to Aeron to answer. He remained seated, brooding – seething. He knew Awel would not make an accusation she could not defend. He could feel the power welling up inside him, fuelled by his anger and frustration, fed by the emotion of betrayal: Cadno had turned against them – turned against him as rightful ruler of the Bwy Hir. He released his control.

‘I am the Winter King.’ His voice boomed through the Dell, a peel of thunder punctuating his words. ‘I will suffer no treachery from those I rule.’ He stood up, taught and rigid. Mab shied away from his awesome strength. ‘Cadno hear my words from wherever you cower: I will kill you on sight, treacherous, disloyal snake!’

Lightning flashed and thunder peeled through the Dell making a mockery of the cloudless skies. Roaring torrents of wind flattened the grass and shook the trees as the Bwy Hir turned their faces away from the howling gales. The Tylwyth Teg vanished from sight as the winds carried Aeron’s righteous menace up into the sky to reach the mountains beyond, touching all in its path with an icy warning of retribution and leaving the
Dell in an aftermath of ruminating stillness.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cadno was distraught. He ran and ran until his lungs burned, the tall grass whipping his legs as he pelted away from the message carried on the winds. Tears streaked his face and his breath came in ragged, gulping gasps, fleeing from the wrath of Aeron ap Ddu.

‘I am innocent!’ he screamed at the wind as he bolted from his hiding place just outside the Dell. ‘I have done no wrong!’ he whimpered as he ran, but in his heart he knew he lied, even to himself. On and on he sprinted, not knowing to where he ran, not caring, all he knew was he had to escape until he could set things right … somehow.

Aeron’s word echoed in his ears. ‘I will kill you … I will kill you.’ With a wail of anguish Cadno grappled up the side of a grassy outcrop and threw himself into the shadow of a fissure to hide and lick his wounds. Muddied, fearful and desperate he sat in a huddle, shivering.

‘They know. They know,’ he whispered to himself. ‘They know I can’t enter the Dell – they know I’m evil – that I’ve done bad things … but it was the lesser of two evils … I only took one Human – one girl… better that than to harvest my own blood – that is the greater sin, is it not? “
Thou shalt not spill the blood of my children.” And I didn’t, I transfigured one Human, that’s all – that is my only sin … my only sin.’ Snivelling and muttering to himself, Cadno desperately sought an answer to his predicament. Round and around his thoughts swirled, seeking every pathway that would lead to his redemption and save him from the wrath of Aeron Ddu.

Clutching at every possibility only to discard it almost immediately, Cadno considered and contemplated until despair threatened to crush him … and then in a flash of inspiration it came to him. ‘Atonement,’ he whispered, ‘for it is the blood that maketh an atonement.’

He sat upright, his eyes scanning left to right as if hastily reading from an invisible text. A smile creased his lips and then he chuckled with delight. As was Cadno’s nature he had devised a plan, a cunning plan because to Cadno, survival was everything.

He closed his eyes and sent forth his mind, tentatively, cautiously, he stretched his mind outwards, seeking, probing until he found what he was looking for: foxes. He needed them to find something – someone – who would lead him to what he sought; what he needed. ‘Atonement.’ He leaned back and patiently waited for the foxes to reach him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Gwyn felt like a fool walking around the streets of Cardiff with a pair of dowsing rods in his hands
. The bloody things don’t work anyway!
He stuffed them back inside his jacket and hunched his shoulders. He’d been walking the streets for hours since he first arrived that morning. He hoped he’d be able to find the van again; he’d got himself twisted and turned about so many times trying to follow the rods.

He sighed heavily and sat down on a nearby bench. He couldn’t get them to work properly. One minute they’d be pointing left, next they’d spin to the right and then sway to the middle, only to slant off to the left again. He was sure he was doing something wrong, or else the witch had supplied him a dud pair. He sighed again.

He looked at his surroundings. He was in a street that looked vaguely familiar. He was somewhere on the outskirts of the city centre and he thought that the van was somewhere over to his left. He’d had no plan as to where to start looking as he drove towards the city, so he had simply followed the signs for the museum and found the first parking space he could on a side street not far behind the huge pale grey buildings. At first he had marked his position with the huge dome dominating the museum’s roof, but he had lost sight of it now, and hoped that his sense of direction would help him find it again when he was ready to return to the van.

Gwyn looked up and down the street where he was. There were ribbons of tall terraced houses as far as the eye could see. The only break in the neat rows were the roads crisscrossing them. A bus pulled out of a nearby junction and Gwyn felt empathy with the driver sat behind the wheel. ‘Up and down all day long, how boring.’ He watched the bus pass with disinterest. ‘Oh, I’m a bloody fool!’ He jumped up and slapped his head with an outstretched palm.

He’d been using the rods wrongly. Instead of following the rods in a straight line – which was almost impossible through the warren of streets, he’d been following the roads, allowing the buildings to control where he was headed and then got confused when the rods kept changing position – it wasn’t the rods – it was him!

He pulled the rods out of his jacket and set one in each hand. Slowly he spun in a circle until the rods were pointed dead ahead. ‘Right then,’ he said with more enthusiasm that he’d felt in hours, ‘let’s be about it!’

Off he went, down the road in a straight line until he could go no further. Ahead of him was another row of houses that blocked his passage. He put the dowsing rods back in his jacket and marched off to his left and then took his first right, stopping when he judged he was now behind the house he’d been in front of a few minutes before. ‘Damn.’ He had the same problem – the rods pointed
through
another terrace of houses. He repeated his actions, walking left to the end of the road and then turning immediately right.

‘Better.’ He was in a crescent and in the centre of it a large limestone church nestled on an expanse of grass. He pulled out his dowsing rods once again and spun in a slow circle. They pointed through the church and directly down a road beyond. ‘Much better.’ He felt like he was finally getting somewhere as he trudged over the grass with the rods sticking out in front of him.

Nearing the church he noticed a small group of elderly women gathered outside the huge wooden doors and Gwyn suddenly felt self-conscious. They were staring at him with a mixture of concern, curiosity and even distaste. One of the women turned tail and rushed back into the church. ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’ He dipped his head towards them in a friendly, polite manner.

Silence greeted him and he felt his cheeks beginning to burn. Slowly, awkwardly, he lowered the dowsing rods and slipped them into his jacket once more. He didn’t know whether it was the fact that he was dowsing without permission on church grounds, or the fact that he hadn’t shaved or bathed in days and was beginning to look like a vagabond, but the women’s stares expressed everything he needed to know: he should leave now.

Feeling defeated and embarrassed he hunched his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stalked away with as much dignity as he could muster. He could feel the women’s eyes boring into his back as he turned, heading back in the direction he had come from.

The first drops of promised rain began to fall from leaden clouds as he dejectedly backtracked towards where he hoped he’d left the van. His heart was as heavy as the skies above him and his stomach was growling too. Pulling his coat tighter to ward off the icy chill, he set off in search of the van. Gwyn needed food, rest and he bloody well needed to find Anwen. His stomach growled again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Atgas watched on in silent revulsion. Arawn was talking to himself again, whispering and arguing, listening and grunting as he sat alone by the camp fire. It was getting worse – he was getting worse – rotting, decaying in a Human body. Arawn was slowing spiralling into insanity.

He shook his head and grunted as he listened to the voice inside his head. It whispered warnings of deceit and betrayal; the warriors were growing restless, Atgas was not to be trusted, the Faithful’s dribbles of information from the outside world brought him nothing of use. He was running out of time.

The voice inside his head was growing stronger, louder and that voice had a name: Afagddu. Arawn was losing the fight to keep possession of the body he inhabited and Afagddu’s thoughts blended so easily with his own now that sometimes he couldn’t discern one from the other. Yes, he was definitely running out of time.

‘What did you say?’ Atgas disturbed his musings and Afagddu’s voice receded into the back of his mind, muttering, babbling. Arawn slowly turned his head towards her, his blackened, red rimmed eyes fixed her with a stare that made her skin crawl. ‘I am running out of time,’ he slurred as he spoke, ‘I need a Bwy Hir body, Atgas.’

She felt a flutter of dread. She was still not pregnant. How long before he asked her for the surrender of her own body? He wanted a male body, but he was becoming desperate … how long? Atgas feigned a smile and stepped into the firelight, ‘And you shall have one, my Lord. We will find the child soon. Awel has gone in search of him; she will lead us straight to him – to them. The Cwn Annwn are watching and waiting.’

‘Waiting … waiting,’ he murmured as he tossed another log into the fire pit and watched the sparks dance into the air, spiralling and flickering until they were consumed by the perpetual darkness that shrouded his lair. ‘Bring me the Priest.’ He waved her away and withdrew into himself once more, allowing Afagddu’s thoughts to bubble back up.

A flash of white light announced the return of a hunting party. Arawn ignored the intrusion, leaving Atgas to deal with the arrivals. She withdrew from the firelight and stalked through the cavern towards the Dderwydd Drych, yearning for news of the child’s whereabouts. On her way she found a Seeker lolling on an outcrop of rock. ‘Take the Cristion man to Arawn,’ she snapped, ‘he wishes to speak with him.’ The Seeker bounded to his feet and ran off in the direction of the pens.

Atgas entered the clearing set aside for the Dderwydd Drych, a Wraith Warrior stood impatiently with two Cwn Annwn prowling around his heels. Atgas stopped a short distance from them; she loathed the hunting hounds. ‘What news do you bring?’

The Warrior bowed. ‘There is a male Bwy Hir alone on the mountain. He is hunting us and we are leading him in circles. Do you wish us to capture him?’

Atgas took an involuntarily step forward. ‘Who is it, do you know?’ she asked eagerly.

The Warrior shrugged his shoulders indifferently. ‘We do not know but he travels with foxes.’

‘Cadno?’ Atgas’ eyes grew wide. What was he doing stalking Wraith Warriors alone? She pursed her lips, considering the options; the possibilities. Finally a sly grin parted her lips. ‘Use the arrows I prepared for such an eventuality – do not kill him – all you need to do is nick his skin. Go,’ she urged, ‘bring him here. I want him alive.’

The Wraith Warrior and the Cwn Annwn vanished through the mirror. Atgas was elated. Cadno had escaped her once, but not again – this time she intended to keep him and maybe, just maybe, he could be persuaded to surrender his body to Arawn.

She returned to the fire pit where even the sight of the filthy Cristion could not sour her delight. ‘Arawn, I have great news.’

He ignored her entrance and held up his hand for silence. ‘Repeat it.’ His attention was fixed on the dishevelled holy man who sat huddled over his Bible. Reverend Morgan cleared his parched throat and recited once more, ‘And they worship the dragon which gave power unto the beast, saying, “Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?”’ He closed his Bible and dropped his head.

Arawn leaned back and finally turned his attention to Atgas. ‘Return the preacher to the pens and then give me your news.’ Her eyes flashed angrily but she did as she was ordered, grabbing the little man peevishly by his arm and pushing him ahead of her. Reverend Morgan stumbled but held tight to his Bible, shambling ahead of Atgas back to his confines.

Arawn watch them be swallowed by the gloom before returning his gaze to the fire. He whispered into the flames, ‘
A fi yn sefyll ar y tywod y môr
…
And I stood upon the sand of the sea …’ He lifted his huge head and swung his antlers left and right. ‘Maps!’ he bellowed, ‘Bring me maps!’ He waited impatiently for his request to materialise. ‘Even the Bible speaks of my coming.’ He smiled hideously as the voice in his head spoke back. ‘Yes, yes, the seas shall not hinder me … I will rule the entire world.’ 

Atgas heard the demanding bellows but chose to ignore them. The preacher hunched his shoulders and cowered as Arawn’s voice echoed through the caverns. ‘Are you afraid,
Christian
?’ Atgas sneered at his back and she herded him towards the pens.

‘God shall protect me.’ He crossed himself.

Atgas threw her head back and laughed malevolently. ‘When Arawn is finished with you there will be no protection. You will be mine then and I shall enjoy bleeding you dry.’ They reached the gates to the pens and the guard stood ready to receive the prisoner.

‘Same rules as before?’ the guard asked, as he unlocked the gate.

Atgas nodded. ‘Keep him away from the other prisoners.’

She retraced her steps, mulling over how best to present Cadno’s capture to Arawn. She desperately wanted Arawn in Cadno’s body; the withering husk he dwelled in now was as hideous as it was Human and besides, with Cadno captured, her own skin would be safer; Arawn would prefer a male body.

A Faithful Druid ran past her, his arms laden with rolls of parchments; Arawn had his maps. Why he needed them was beyond her. Nor did she understand his interest in the preacher and his Bible. She wondered, and not for the first time, whether Arawn had a scheme in play that she was not privy too. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She would not be played for a fool, she wanted to be queen and she would do whatever was necessary to ensure the golden torc of the Summer Realm rested around her neck.

A flash of light announced the return of the Wraith Warriors. She resumed her vacant smile as she came to stand in front of Arawn who was squinting at the unrolled map he held in his hands. ‘My Lord,’ she said, touching the top edge of his map with a slender finger to catch his attention, ‘on my command your Wraith Warriors bring a great gift.’ She smiled as his suspicious eyes met hers. ‘I deliver Cadno of the Bwy Hir to you. His body is ripe for the taking should you so wish it.’

Arawn looked up at her. For a moment he was confused, disorientated, and then her words sunk in. ‘Cadno? he asked incredulously, ‘I remember him from Dduallt … he wishes to surrender his body to me?’

Her smile faltered. ‘I believe he can be … persuaded, my Lord.’

‘By you?’ Arawn’s eyes bore unto hers. ‘You think you have that power?’ He rose slowly to his feet, his map discarded. ‘He ran away from you before. He shunned you. Yet you believe your words will convince him to surrender his body to me?’

Atgas shied back, suddenly reminded of his changeable malevolence. ‘I’m sure he can be persuaded, my Lord.’

‘
Persuaded
.’ He snorted. ‘You
want
him, Atgas, you always have. Is Cadno for me or for yourself?’

‘For you!’ Atgas took hold of his hands, imploring him to believe her. ‘I had him brought here for you. I need you to be Bwy Hir. I want you to be strong again! Take him – take his body – become Bwy Hir once more.’ Her voice was urgent, almost desperate.

The Wraith Warriors entered the clearing carrying Cadno between them, his head lolling to one side, unconscious and limp. ‘He is alive,’ announced one
Warrior as they dropped him to the ground. ‘Atgas’ arrows work well.’

Atgas stooped down and placed her fingers against Cadno’s neck. ‘His pulse is strong.’ She stood and turned to Arawn with a triumphant smile. ‘I must prepare a circle to bind him before he wakes.’ Arawn did not answer her; he simply nodded, studying her back as she left the firelight, listening to the voice inside his head warning of her imminent deceit and treachery.