The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy (73 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dai was on the telephone speaking to one of the Chosen Elders
. ‘No, I didn’t go through – Well, then it’s a good job I listened to Glyn-Guinea – I don’t care if your mirror is fine – Mine’s going bonkers – Yes, Ysbrydion – Just send a Druid will you? – I need to know what to do – Yes, I know most of the Elders are attending a summit, you’ve already told me that – Yes, yes, I’ll wait in – Fine, phone me back when you know.’ He slammed the phone down.

‘Well that got me exactly nowhere!’ he called to Liz who was busy in the kitchen
. ‘Says he’ll phone me back.’ He shook his head, stuffed his hands in his cardigan pockets and shuffled into the front room to stare at the mirror.

The cloying smog of burnt sage filled the room. Liz had tried to open a window to let the smoke out but Dai had insisted she didn’t – better safe than sorry. The mirror was exactly where he’d left it on the far wall and it looked the same too until it started again – until
they
started again.

Tap-tap-tap
. Dai took an involuntary step back. They were back; dark grey or red wisps twisting and darting from one edge of the mirror to the other before vanishing out of sight. ‘Dirty little devils,’ he growled under his breath, sounding more cavalier than he felt.

‘Someone’s here!’ Liz shouted from the kitchen as Dai heard a car pull into the yard as he retreated from the front room and closed the door shut behind him.

He opened the back door and stepped out into the afternoon sunshine and was greeted by the sight of Saw-Bones Selwyn getting out of his car.

‘Oh, you’re back!’ Dai was pleased to see him. ‘How was your trip?’

Selwyn shut the car door and put his hand out and Dai gladly shook it. ‘Come in, come in. Let’s get you a cup of tea. Liz. Liz, its Selwyn!’ he called ahead of himself and Selwyn followed.

‘Selwyn!’ Liz embraced him and ushered him to a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Good to have you back. How was it in London? Tea?’

Selwyn gratefully sat down. ‘Tea would be lovely, it was a long trip back from London – I came straight here, I saw Trevor in the village, he says there’s been all sorts of trouble with the mirrors.’

‘Of course!’ Dai slapped his open palm to his forehead. ‘You weren’t here for the salting, so your mirror will be going bonkers too – Ysbrydion again – only this time they are only attacking the mirrors that were not salted and this time they’re madder than hell.’

‘I see.’ Selwyn waved a hand as if the mirrors weren’t important. ‘What of Anwen Morgan? Have they been found?’

Dai shared a look with Liz. They had already discussed that only the “Triskele-within-the-Triskele” should be told about the news of the Morgans, but Selwyn was one of them and a quick nod from Liz loosened Dai’s tongue. ‘They are on their way home as we speak.’

Selwyn sat forward in his seat. ‘How? Where are they now?’

Dai hesitated a moment; something about Selwyn’s manner disturbed him. ‘They are meeting Awel this evening – I don’t know more than that.’

‘So, Selwyn,’ Liz interrupted with a feigned smile, ‘what happened in London?’

Selwyn shook himself. ‘What? Oh, the flat was a wreck. The insurers are dealing with it all via the solicitors.’

‘And Mary?’ Liz urged.

‘Mary’s remains are being cremated and posted back up here for burial with her parents.’ Selwyn looked out of the window towards his car.

‘Is that what she wanted?’ Liz spoke softly, her hand gently clasping her own throat.

‘What? Yes. It’s in her will.’ Selwyn stood up. ‘I’ve just realised how exhausted I am, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go home.’

‘I’m sorry, Selwyn.’ Liz fussed and fretted. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you by mentioning Mary.’

Selwyn made for the back door. ‘Don’t be silly, Liz,’ he opened the back door and let himself out, Dai and Liz trailing behind him. ‘It’s not as if Mary and I were close.’ He waved them goodbye and reversed his car out of the yard.

‘What the hell was that all about?’ Dai put his hands on his hips.

‘Why would he say that?’ Liz hugged herself despite the warm breeze blowing through the farm yard. ‘I thought he was close to Mary?’

The phone rang and Dai rushed back inside to answer it, leaving Liz on the doorstep to ponder. ‘Oh, I’m jumping at shadows; these Ysbrydion have got me spooked.’ She spoke to herself, ‘Fancy me suspecting Doctor Selwyn Jones of anything underhanded and him just back from dealing with his cousin’s death – shame on me.’ She shook her head and chuckled as she went back inside, shutting the door behind her.

Dai hung up the phone. ‘There’s a Druid coming tonight, they won’t come while they think you’re awake,’ he said tutting, ‘Gary will have to wait in for him tonight.’

‘Why, where are you going?’ Liz drew her eyebrows together and crossed her arms.

‘Did you get the message to Awel?’ Dai asked.

‘Yes. I used the Drych ysgrifennu. Why?’

‘’Cause I’m going to be there too … I’ve got a funny feeling, Liz.’

‘Do you think it’s safe?’ Liz touched her husband’s arm.

‘Probably not, but I owe it to Dafydd to see nothing happens to his family.’

‘Should you not take someone with you?’

‘Like who?’ He patted her arm. ‘Glyn-Guinea’s off putting his four-penn
y’s worth in at this summit thing and Gary has to stay here.’

‘What about Trevor? He was Dafydd’s friend too.’

‘We agreed the less people that know, the better it is.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’ll be better off on my own. Don’t worry, I’m too old and fat for any heroics.’

Liz raised an eyebrow and fixed him with a long-suffering stare
. ‘So why are you looking at your gun cabinet then?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Awel was in her pavilion studying a small scroll held open between her fingers. Bara had decided to keep her company and Awel wondered whether the dog
knew
. ‘How could you possibly know?’  Bara pricked up her eyes and tipped her head to one side, her tongue lolling as she panted where she lay on Awel’s cot.

‘Talking to yourself again?’ Celyn-Bach poked his head through the tent flap
. ‘May I come in?’

Awel smiled and nodded her head
. ‘You are always welcome and I was talking to Bara.’

Celyn-Bach slipped in and made himself comfortable next to Bara on the cot
. ‘I think she does know.’

‘Know what?’ Awel asked absently as she studied the scroll.

‘That Gwyn Morgan is on his way back.’

Awel froze
. ‘And how do you know that? I’ve only just found out myself?’

‘Bara told me.’ He gave her a mischievous smile. ‘If you want to keep it a secret, you’d better keep her away from Bran; they’ve been thick as thieves since he arrived.’

Awel stared disbelievingly at Bara and then at Celyn-Bach. Was he telling the truth? Awel had no particular affinity with animals; hers were the birds, the sky and the breeze. ‘How does Bara know?’ Awel asked doubtfully. ‘Has she learnt to read?’

Celyn-Bach chuckled and rubbed between Bara’s ears
. ‘I jest, Awel, although I really would keep her away from Bran now she knows. No, I saw the way you tore off after reading a message on your Drych Ysgrifennu … so when does he arrive and does he have Anwen Morgan and the child with him?’

Awel pressed her lips tightly together and snapped the scroll shut before secreting it away in her robes. ‘Come.’ She waved him over to a silk partition at the back
of the pavilion, pulled aside the flap and slipped inside.

An old woman stood bolt upright behind a table strewn with maps and all manner of scrying instruments. She had the good grace to blush as if she’d been caught meddling with things she ought not to.

‘Peace, Gwenllian, he already knows.’ Awel waved Celyn-Bach towards the low table, at least it was low to them yet it came to Gwenllian’s middle. Bara shuffled in and wove between their legs to sit underneath.

‘You’re scrying?’ Celyn-Bach leaned in, fascinated by the use of earth bound magic
. ‘What have you found?’

Awel nodded and Gwenllian began to explain, ‘I cannot search for Gwyn Morgan – he is hidden by Awel’s binding
– but I can locate Anwen Morgan.’ She moved to an open box set beside a yard of beautifully embroidered linen. Celyn-Bach appreciated how painstakingly intricate the map of the British Isles was.

‘She is on the move and we’ve – I’ve – been tracking her progress …’ From the box she withdrew a silver chain attached to a slender crystal teardrop with what looked to Celyn-Bach to be red hair; he understood.

She allowed the crystal to dangle over the map and slowly began to swing the chain, forcing it to rotate in slow, arching circles. Round and around the crystal arced and she began to chant, ‘Turning, turning, turn around, someone’s lost who must be found ... turning, turning, turn around, under sky or underground ... turning, turning, turn about, find her, find her, seek her out!’

A chill ran up Celyn-Bach’s spine and he involuntarily shivered. He had spent time researching earth bound magic and had witnessed the Druids with their incantations and potions, but he had never seen or felt a Gwiddon at work.

Round and round the crystal spun, over and over again Gwenllian chanted her spell until suddenly the crystal thudded onto the linen and they all leaned in. ‘She’s moving fast, Awel.’ Gwenllian hobbled sideways to consult a second map that she was obviously using to track Anwen’s movements. ‘Cemmaes, now Brecon – that is quite a leap.’ She tucked a greasy strand of white hair behind her ear. ‘I have no Cerdd Carega marked at her locations but how else could she be travelling so quickly?’

Awel clasped her hands together, steepled her two forefingers and pressed them to her lips as she pondered the answer. A sudden smile showed from behind her fingers. ‘Clever girl … clever girl.’

Awel had to secretly congratulate Anwen for her shrewdness, although she did wonder where she had gleaned her information. ‘Pass me the scroll – no, not that one – the other.’ Gwenllian touched the pile of vellum one by one until Awel nodded and opened her hand.

‘She is indeed using Cerdd Carega,’ Awel said, opening the scroll and bent over to open it on the table, ‘but not any you would be familiar with, or me for that matter, these are the old stones that once bound the new Cristions to us, or should I say the very old Cristions to us.’

Celyn-Bach whistled through his teeth. ‘They still exist?’ He knelt down on one knee so he could study the scroll in detail. ‘They were not destroyed at the breaking?’

Gwenllian snorted in disgust. ‘They might as well have been destroyed, the Cristions turned their back on the Bwy Hir, saw you as sinful and buried your memory in their vaults. A hex on them all.’ She spat on the floor.

‘Peace, Gwenllian,’ Awel chided, ‘it was our choice as much as theirs.’

Celyn-Bach ran his fingers over the map, moving from one location to the other, following the thin lines that connected one from the other, marking the distance between them until he came to the nearest church to the Dell. He raised his head. ‘They will arrive at Llanrhychwyn?’ Awel nodded. ‘How do you intend to get from there to here? It is quite a distance and through a forest that is no longer safe to travel.’

‘And at night,’ Awel added with unease, ‘they come at nightfall.’

‘Have you told Aeron or Mab?’ Celyn-Bach folded his arms, already knowing the answer to his question.

‘No.’ Awel shook her head, the tiny bells jangling in her silver tresses. ‘They are embroiled up to their necks in Chosen and Druids and I do not want to go to them until I have a firm proposal … How goes this “summit”?’ Her mouth turned into a frown as if the word tasted sour.

‘Frantically.’ Celyn-Bach rolled his eyes. ‘The salting has caused chaos.’

Gwenllian grunted as she pulled away the cloth covering a powlen ysbryd: a spirit bowl. ‘You mean this chaos?’ she waved an arthritic hand over the bowl. The water was cloudy instead of clear, slender shadows twirled through the milky liquid and rippled the surface. With a disgusted grunt she threw back the cloth. ‘Completely unusable.’

‘It gets worse still, I’m afraid.’ Celyn-Bach unfolded his arms and gave a melancholy sigh. ‘The mirrors that were not salted are bearing the brunt of our mistake. There are reports of scores of Ysbrydion assailing the mirrors, striking the glass and making their presence felt on both sides; the affected Chosen are scared, the Druids in the Hall of Mirrors are nervous.’

‘Ha, the Halls will be stinking of white sage!’ Gwenllian cackled, ‘And yet they will worry themselves with the treatment and not the cause.’ She fixed them with a shrewd stare. ‘Ysbrydion are not Ysbrydion until they are fed with blood. Stop the feeding, and the Ysbrydion will return to incorporeal spirit and therein is the cure.’

‘Atgas.’ Awel scowled.

‘There is more.’ Celyn-Bach closed his eyes, ‘The salting has caused further harm: Gwrnach returned from an outing this morning. He was enraged … there is salt in the lakes.’

‘Of course there is. What did they expect?’ Gwenllian hissed. ‘We are all connected! We are all one! Desalination will take weeks, maybe months, but the natural balance will return and the salt was not in such quantities that the damage cannot be undone in due course.’ She hobbled around the table,
huffing and wheezing as she came to stand directly in front of the two Bwy Hir, twisting her neck so she could peer up at them.

‘But y Gwag? There is no rain nor rivers, stones nor soil. What goes in there cannot be filtered out by the earth. No. What goes in remains unless you bring it out and there is the crux of the matter!’ She wagged a twisted finger. ‘You must first stop the feeder and then you must open the unsalted mirrors and let the Ysbrydion out, then you must destroy them here, let out the blood and send their spirits back where they belong. No blood. No Ysbrydion.’

‘To do that we must first find Atgas and Arawn.’ Celyn-Bach folded his arms again.

‘You have the bait.’ Gwenllian squinted up at them.

‘No.’ Awel drew back in disgust. ‘I will not endanger them, nor risk Arawn gaining what he seeks.’

Gwenllian shrugged her shoulders and hobbled back behind the table. ‘That is your decision, but fate may force your hand, Awel Chan y Bant. You cannot control their destiny; that power is not yours to command.’

‘Arawn will not get his hands on any of the Morgans. I will not allow it.’ Awel leaned over the table, biting off each word as she fixed Gwenllian with a menacing glower. ‘Use your skills and locate me Arawn, or Atgas or Cadno – all three are together – find me one and I shall see them destroyed before they can raise a hand against those I seek to protect.’

Gwenllian was too old and too cunning to be intimidated by Awel’s anger. ‘Give me something that belonged to them,’ she bit back, ‘and I will give you what you ask, but time is running short Awel Chan y Bant; sunset is but hours away.’

‘You know I have nothing.’ Awel threw herself away from the table, vexed and despondent.

‘But I have.’ Celyn-Bach’s calm voice cut through the quarrel. He slipped his thumb and forefinger into
his shirt and pulled out a small metal arrowhead hung on a simple leather cord. ‘A souvenir from when Atgas shot Cadno.’

‘Oh, for the love of light!’ Awel exclaimed in delight
. ‘I could kiss you, Celyn-Bach!’

‘As could I!’ Gwenllian cackled and opened her hand to accept Celyn-Bach’s offering
. ‘Yet I doubt he would appreciate either!’

Gwenllian bent to her work, using the cord of Celyn-Bach’s necklace to attach the arrow head to a clean crystal she’d pulled from her box, her tongue sticking out between her wrinkled lips as she set Anwen’s crystal aside and began the slow circular spinning over the map.

Awel and Celyn-Bach stood back watching Gwenllian as she mumbled her incantations. Once, twice, three times the crystal spun over the map before it thumped down in a shower of sparks.

‘Ow!’ Gwenllian cried out and shook her hand as if shaking away pain
. ‘Malicious bitch! Hexing sow!’

‘What is it?’ Awel rushed forward but Gwenllian shooed her away with her good hand.

‘Atgas is as shrewd as she is spiteful – a spell to hex scrying for her.’ Gwenllian scowled and spat on the floor.

‘I thought you were scrying for Cadno?’ Celyn-Bach kept well back, he didn’t understand earth bound magic and it made him a little afraid.

‘I was,’ Gwenllian snapped, as she cautiously leaned over the map, ‘but as you said, it was Atgas’ arrow; we obviously have found two for the price of one … there.’ She pointed with her chin. ‘Do you recognise the location?’

‘It cannot be
,’ Awel breathed, ‘there must be some mistake.’

‘Do you doubt my skills?’ Gwenllian bristled
. ‘Even after the hex? A strong hex too – look at my hand!’ She held it out to show the already blistering, inflamed skin that covered her bloated hand.

Awel felt remorseful
. ‘My apologies, Gwenllian Gwiddon, for both my doubt and my negligence. I am no healer myself, but I could send for someone?’

Gwenllian waved her apology away
. ‘It will heal itself in time and will serve as a punishment for my overconfidence; I should have protected myself better.’

‘Where are they, Awel?’ Celyn-Bach still did not move close enough to clearly see the map.

‘Llyn Idwal.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper.

‘The
y are at the lake?’ Celyn-Bach was puzzled.

‘No.’ Awel stood straight as
she smoothed her skirts. ‘They are
under
it. Come, I must inform Mab straight away, my fears are now confirmed.’

Celyn-Bach was still baffled as he followed Awel out of the pavilion
. Gwenllian hobbled behind and Bara trotted between them, keen not to be excluded.

The summit was being held around the fire pit, Pride and Host, Druid and Chosen were s
itting in clusters on the grassy slopes as they took turns to have their say in the common ground between. Tylwyth Teg silently passed between them as if oblivious to the discussion that was taking place above their heads.

Awel hurried into the hollow and was greeted by an air of apprehension. A Seeker escorted by Bran had been thrust into the centre and was babbling his news between gulped breaths and stammers. She caught the last of his words and seized on them
. ‘He speaks the truth!’ her voice rang out as she swept into the centre of the hollow and bowed to Mab and Aeron. ‘I bring urgent revelations. May I address the summit?’

Mab and Aeron were s
itting side by side on a small dais woven together to form a throne with Taliesin at their feet, and Awel pondered how long Mab would willingly share her dais much less the Dell itself. ‘Speak,’ Mab commanded, a little too quickly and Awel hid a smile before addressing the gathering.