Seventh Child

by Peter R. Ellis

  “He and his warriors are rousing people and getting them away from the Gwyllian,” Meuryn said.

  “Are they coming this way?”

  “It is not clear, Cludydd. They are going from house to house but do not seem to have any intention other than to destroy us all.”

  “Ah, good. You see September, you are hidden from them. The cloak hides you from their senses so they do not know where you are. You will be safe here for some time yet.”

  “I must do something,” September said, scrambling to her feet. She had not suddenly found courage but knew that the Starstone had the power to destroy the manifestations of evil.

  “No, Cludydd. We have been foolish in allowing you to wield the Maengolauseren like a beacon since you have arrived. We did not realise how quickly the Malevolence would react to your presence amongst us. But now you have the cloak we must avoid revealing you.”

  “But can’t the stone destroy these Gwyl-things?”

  “Yes, but at the risk of drawing yet more evil. We can manage. Iorwerth will organise our defence.” The cries of distress and the padding of feet on the hardened earth suggested that the fight was not yet won.

  “Meuryn, stand at the door,” Arianwen said, “tell us what is happening.” The young man did as he was told. With his sword held ahead of him he stood in the doorway.

  “People are running from the edge of the village,” he said, “they are carrying babies, but it is dark, it is so difficult to see what they are running from.”

  “Pick up your possessions, Cludydd,” Arianwen said, “We may have to flee.”

  September picked up the iron knife in its scabbard and the leather pouch holding the copper horn from the floor beside her cushions. She slung the strap over her shoulder and grasped the knife in her hand.

  A creaking and rumbling sounded as of a tree falling. More shouts and cries were raised, louder and more anguished. More distant there was another loud crash.

  “It’s a Gwyllian,” Meuryn shouted.

  “What’s it done?” Arianwen asked.

  “I saw it. It lifted a hand to touch a house. The walls crumbled to dust and the wooden beams and the rushes on the roof decayed instantly and collapsed. The house is destroyed.”

  “How close?”

  “Not far. The Gwyllian is moving to the next. I can just see her ghostly figure in the moonlight. She will be here soon.”

  “I think we must move, Cludydd,” Arianwen said, “We must not become trapped. We will get to the centre of the village and meet up with Iorwerth. I’ll lead, Meuryn you follow and protect the Cludydd.”

  “But what about Eluned?” September cried, remembering her friend still asleep in her bed.

  “She cannot walk,” Arianwen said, “It’s you we must protect. We must hope that Eluned will survive.”

  “I can carry her,” Meuryn said, sliding his sword into his belt and going to the bed. He lifted up the slight body of the cludydd. She stirred and moaned.

  “Be careful,” Arianwen said. “Her spine is still tender.”

  “I have her,” Meuryn said.

  “We must move.”

  Arianwen led September from the cottage. Meuryn followed with Eluned in his arms. People were hurrying past carrying or dragging children with them. September glanced behind her just in time to see another round house collapse into a heap of dust. She saw the bent, skeletal figure of what appeared to be an old woman in long, filthy rags. Its arm was stretched out and a long finger pointed at the remains of the building. Slowly it turned and took stiff, infirm steps towards the next dwelling. The Gwyllian did not seem to notice the three of them escaping.

  They rounded the next hut and almost collided with Iorwerth and Catrin.

  “Hah! You are safe,” Iorwerth said.

  “For now,” Arianwen replied, “But there is a Gwyllian causing great destruction just behind us.”

  “We know.” Iorwerth said, “It is the last. We have destroyed three more on the other side of the village. Come on Catrin.”

  Iorwerth and Catrin pushed past them. Iorwerth had the great sword Aldyth drawn and raised and September saw that Catrin carried a tall copper pole with a ball at one end and a spike at the other. September and Arianwen followed the other cludyddau. They turned the corner and there in the space outside Arianwen’s house was the Gwyllian. Its foetid odour of decay drifted towards them. September covered her nose and mouth with her spare hand. Now she was able to see the figure more closely.

  It did indeed have the look of an ancient woman who should have been dead even if she had never been alive. It was clothed in the remains of a grey dress that had decayed to hanging threads. A few wispy white hairs straggled from its head. Skin that wasn’t hanging in flaps from its face and neck, was drawn tight around the skull. The empty eye sockets looked towards them and the figure staggered a few steps in their direction. It raised a thin arm and stretched out a bony finger with a long curled nail.

  “Keep out of its reach,” Iorwerth warned, “One touch and you will be turned to dust. At least the Gwyllian do not move fast. Catrin, use your powers.”

  Catrin stepped forward and lifted the pole onto her shoulder like a javelin. The spike pointed towards the Gwyllian which advanced step by faltering step towards her. Catrin muttered some unintelligible words. It became even darker and September looked up to see clouds building and obscuring the Moon. Moments passed during which the Gwyllian approached to within a couple of metres of the impassive woman. There was a flash of lightning followed by the crack of thunder. It happened so quickly that September almost failed to see what happened, but it seemed that a jagged bolt of lightning struck the balled end of Catrin’s pole which, lit up like an orange fluorescent lamp. Then electric blue light burst from the spike and struck the Gwyllian. Then came the thunder and the apparition disintegrated into a cloud of dust which drifted to the ground in a heap.

  “Well done,” Iorwerth shouted and the other people around them cheered and clapped. Catrin lowered her pole, turned and smiled triumphantly at them. The Moon emerged from the clouds and once again the village was bathed in pale moonlight. September heard Arianwen let out a huge sigh.

  “Let us see what the damage is,” she said, “It seems my house is still intact. Meuryn, take Eluned back to her bed.”

  Meuryn trudged off with his burden as Berddig appeared breathless and concerned.

  “Is the Gwyllian defeated?” he asked, “Is the Cludydd safe?”

  “Yes, Berddig, as you can see we are standing here, taking stock,” Iorwerth replied chortling, “Catrin wielded her electric pole which despatched the manifestations.”

  Berddig looked relieved but not overjoyed.

  “That is good, but a number of our community have died and many have had their homes and workshops destroyed. I had hoped that with the Cludydd clothed in the cloak we would not attract the Malevolence again so soon.”

  “The Gwyllian did seem disorientated,” Catrin said, “Their attacks were indiscriminate. They were unable to sense the Cludydd.”

  “That’s true,” Iorwerth agreed, “they just set upon anyone or anything that was in their path.”

  “So why did they come? Was it just one of the evil’s random attacks?”

  “Perhaps, Berddig, it was the disappearance of the Cludydd that stirred the Adwyth,” Arianwen said. “Like when one candle amongst many is extinguished, its absence disturbs the pattern and draws your attention.”

  “You may have a point, but the candle that is the Maengolauseren is so much brighter than those of the rest of us, cludyddau included. Since she arrived the starstone has been a bright signal that drew the Malevolence like a moth to a lamp, especially when it was used.”

  September had been listening to the conversation and understanding more fully the danger she represented to the people of Amaethaderyn.

  “Um, I think the attack by the Gwyllian, may have been my fault,” she said quietly and fearfully. They all looked at her.

  “
What do you mean Cludydd?” Arianwen asked.

  “Well, just before we settled down, I came outside.”

  “Yes, I remember. Go on.”

  “Well, before I went to the loo, I saw the Moon in the sky and I wondered whether I might be able to go home.”

  “Ah,” Berddig said, nodding slowly.

  “Go home?” said Iorwerth.

  “You took the starstone out, didn’t you,” Arianwen accused.

  “Yes,” September said faintly, “I took it out from under the cloak, opened it up and looked through it at the Moon. But nothing happened. The stone was clear but dark.”

  “Nevertheless, its power was revealed,” Arianwen said.

  “Like a flash in the dark,” Iorwerth said, “a signal to our enemy.”

  “I’m sorry,” September cried, “I didn’t realise.” She felt wretched; she had been stupid, again, after being told that the cloak was to hide her and the starstone from view.

  “We don’t know it was that brief revelation of the stone,” Berddig said, “after all it had been just a short time since we gave the Cludydd the cloak to cover it and herself. We should have had the cloak ready as soon as the Cludydd appeared amongst us. We are as much to blame as the Cludydd.”

  The others nodded and agreed. Arianwen rested a hand on September’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry Cludydd. I shouldn’t have accused you of attracting the Gwyllian. As Berddig says they could have been arising from the earth before you were presented with the cloak, and in any case you were not to realise the dangers of revealing yourself. Come, return to your rest. There is still your journey to commence tomorrow.”

  “I must assist the people who have lost their homes and console those that have lost family and friends,” Berddig said hurrying off.

  “And I must check that Tudfwlch has the guard keeping watch,” Iorwerth said, “just in case we have more visitations.”

  “I too should help in any way I can,” Catrin, added about to move off.

  September spoke to her. “That pole is some weapon.”

  “It is, although the powers of efyddyn are not often used for destruction. Good night Cludydd.” Catrin marched off holding the pole as a staff.

  As September and Arianwen walked the short distance to her cottage, September looked around. It was dark and the moon did not provide much light, nevertheless, September was appalled at the devastation that confronted her. It seemed that most of the buildings from Arianwen’s home out to the edge of the village had been flattened. All that remained were heaps of dust and rubble with the reeds used as thatch reduced to compost and the timbers left as crumbling, rotten splinters of wood. People were searching in the debris for possessions, a cooking pot, a tool, a water jug. It was her fault, September thought, she had been thoughtless and stupid to take the stone out from under the cloak, despite Berddig kindly diverting the blame from her. I must remain covered from now on, she vowed.

  “Come in,” Arianwen said, holding the door open. Inside Meuryn was kneeling beside Eluned’s bed. Arianwen bent to look at the girl. She caressed Eluned’s forehead with her amulet.

  “Is she alright?” September asked.

  “Yes, she is sleeping normally now. Meuryn was very gentle in lifting her.”

  “I’m glad.” September sank onto her cushions laying her knife and pouch by her side.

  “I must go and see if there are any of the injured that need my help,” Arianwen said, “Meuryn, stay and look after the Cludydd and Eluned.” The young man nodded and Arianwen left them.

  September wrapped the silver cloak around herself and settled onto the cushions. She turned away from Meuryn because she didn’t want him to see her sobbing herself to sleep.

  12

  The dark was behind her. Above, below, left and right of her were immense balls of light separated by vast stretches of space. This is what the speck of light, the sphere of glimmers had become and now she knew where she was – the sphere of stars. Within the sphere was more darkness but it had a different quality, for everything inside the sphere of stars had virtue. There hanging at the very centre was a globe of blue and green and white, and around it revolved the seven wanderers, each in its crystal sphere, the outermost hardly any distance from the sphere of stars. One of the orbiting bodies was a bright, hot ball of fire that gave light and succour to the other seven objects within the universe.

  She was at the boundary between the realms of good and evil but it was no barrier. The wretched souls of hate streamed past her bound for that green-blue orb, there to achieve their purpose and wreak vengeance. She knew that was where life existed born of the tender love nurtured by the planets. She shared the anger of the souls and soon would follow them to foul and destroy the sickening idyll, but she was not quite ready.

  In her long journey across the nothingness outside space and time she had developed. She now had form, a body, a head, arms and legs and was able, given the opportunity, to sense light, sound, odour and taste. She wasn’t sure why she had those limbs or senses, perhaps it was some remnant of the existence she had before, not that she recalled any such past, nevertheless perhaps they would be of use when she took her rightful place in the universe.

  Now however, she knew what she was. Like the determined souls that flocked towards the world, she was one of the unborn, a life snuffed out before it had independent existence. She knew too that she was special, that some connection gave her the ability to think, to plan, to control. No unconscious servant of the Malevolence she. Her destiny was power not simply mindless destruction. But destruction, or the promise of it, nevertheless gave her pleasure. She would guide the assault of the Malevolence on the planets and their people. She would unite the powers of the souls and bring victory at last to the dark and destroy the light. And she would enjoy the task for she was Malice.

  Part 2

  ~

  Journey

  13

  The waters of the Afon Deheuol flowed swiftly passed the small boat, but the trees that bordered the river moved more slowly. The craft was fighting a strong current but it did so silently and as far as September could tell without any source of power whatsoever. She sat in the middle of the vessel, which was really a large canoe, while Tudfwlch crouched in the bows looking ahead. Cynddylig was in the stern, his right hand gripping the tiller. Overhead the sun was approaching its zenith and the sky was clear and blue. The air was very warm but wrapped in her silver cloak, September felt cool – Padarn had been correct that the metal reflected the sun’s rays.

  Although they had been travelling for little over an hour, September was already bored. The river banks were unchanging and the trees blocked views of the countryside on each side. Conversation had ceased as the two men settled to the journey and there was nothing for her to do. Feeling drowsy, September recalled the preparations for setting off.

  Arianwen had roused her shortly after dawn. She had washed herself and returned to the cottage to find a new set of clothes laid out for her, not the long, white dress that was always tripping her up, but a pair of calf length trousers and a long sleeved tunic top, both in a light beige colour.

  “They are made for the men, but should fit you,” Arianwen said with a tone of mild disapproval. September couldn’t understand how the women put up with wearing the full dresses when the trousers and tunic would make it easier to move. Underwear didn’t seem to be in fashion however so she dressed quickly keeping the silver cloak around herself the whole time.

  “I think you will need this,” Arianwen said, handing September a leather belt.

  “Thank you,” September said, buckling it around her waist. She found that the scabbard of the knife Iorwerth had given her fitted onto the belt and the pouch with the small copper horn presented to her by Catrin slid onto the belt as well. With Eluned’s phial and the starstone around her neck, she had all her possessions on her body.

  Arianwen brought breakfast – bread, cheese, fruit – and while September was eating, Berddig
appeared.

  “Ah, I’m pleased to see you are ready,” he said, “your boat is prepared and Cynddylig is impatient to make a start.”

  “Is he?” September asked, “He didn’t seem too keen last night.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about him. Cynddylig is a bit different to most people; he sees doom and gloom when others find hope.”

  “He doesn’t think I can stop the Malevolence, does he?”

  “He doesn’t have the faith in our powers of resistance to evil that most of us have. None of us know for certain, and we realise that we have little else to help us withstand the Malevolence, but the old stories tell us that the Maengolauseren is a powerful tool in resisting it and the Cludydd, whoever she is, has always protected us.”

  “I wish I knew more of these stories and what I am supposed to do.”

  “There will be time on your journey. Tudfwlch knows the tales – it is part of his training, and no doubt Cynddylig will have things to tell you. Now are you ready to leave?”

  September swallowed her last mouthful of bread and lifted her cup to down the last swig of cool, fresh water.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Arianwen held a large woven sack closed by a draw-string.

  “I think you will need this,” she said.

  “What is in it?” September asked.

  “A change of clothes for your journey and for when you reach the Arsyllfa, and there’s a blanket for the cold nights.”

  “Thank you. I hadn’t thought much about what I will need.”

  “Of course not child. You have barely arrived and we are packing you off to face whatever destiny holds for you, and for us,” Arianwen looked serious, “I, we, will be thinking of you every day and sending our thoughts to support you in the trials that lie ahead. When all this is over, perhaps you will return to us here at Amaethaderyn, and we can be together in happier times.”

  September felt a tear in her eye. She had hardly known this woman for more than a day and yet she felt as close to her as to her own mother. Arianwen opened her arms and September stepped forward into a hug.