It came as a complete surprise when the next step was not upwards but level. September looked up and found sky in front of her. They had reached the top of the last ridge. Not even grass grew here. The rock was carved by wind into a knife edge. The wind blew now, a cold blast from the north. September shivered and wrapped her cloak around her. Behind her was an almost sheer drop and in front the ground fell away as abruptly. Sieffre offered her a hand and hauled her onto a platform of rock no more than a square metre in area. She had a moment of vertigo as she realised that there was nothing to hold on to except Sieffre, and that she was exposed on the narrowest of ledges. In front of her now the mountain rose from the next ridge that bounded a wide and shallow valley. It was shrouded in mist and cloud. High above came the crash of thunder and flashes of light of the continuing battle. Sieffre held her tight.
“You’re doing well, Cludydd. Just the final climb left.”
“Today?”
“No.” He looked at the Sun disappearing behind the mountain, “We have an hour or so of light. We can make camp down in the valley and go up to the Arsyllfa tomorrow.” He held her hand firmly as they stepped down and began the descent into the valley. A stream snaked across the almost flat plain but unlike the previous valleys they had crossed there were no trees here. The air was cold and clear.
The final light of the day was fading when Heulwen called a halt and they made camp in the shelter of an outcrop of rock a few metres from the stream. Overhead the sounds of the continuing siege of the unseen Arsyllfa echoed off the valley sides. The men made camp and once again Collen cooked a tasty meal but although Alawn and Elystan tried to raise a song, the sound of the thunder and the knowledge of what was happening above their heads made the others reluctant to join in. Before long Sieffre declared that again an early start was needed so they might as well get as much rest as they could. Nisien remained on guard and the others retreated to their tents. September was more than ready to settle into the comfort of her sleeping bag. She hadn’t felt as cold in all her time in Gwlad and was thankful for the quilted jacket that she had been given. She was especially grateful for the down-filled sleeping bag and curled up inside it with the copper horn to her cheek.
“Mordeyrn, are you there?”
“Yes, my girl, I am here and longing for the moment when we meet again. Now less than one day.”
“You are still under attack. We can hear the thunder caused by the Adarllwchgwin.”
“Yes. They strive endlessly to pierce our defences, but my predecessors built well. They foresaw that the Arsyllfa would become a focus of the evil. But I do worry about your approach. Sieffre will guide you well but you will be exposed to the power of the Malevolence. I fear that though your cloak may hide the Maengolauseren from the evil senses, you and your companions’ very presence on the mountain will draw some of the attack.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. What do we do?”
“Sieffre knows all the paths up the mountain. He will keep you shielded as far as possible, but at some stage I am sure you will all have to defend yourselves and if you are forced to expose the stone you will draw the full power of the Malevolence upon you.”
“I’ll fight it,” September said but shuddered with fright as she said it.
“My spirit will be with you, Cludydd. Now rest; your biggest challenge yet is in front of you.”
The horn went silent and September packed it away. She was scared. She had won each battle she had faced so far, if losing Tudfwlch and Cynddylig and the injury to Eluned could be counted as winning, but the crashing peels of thunder that came to her even wrapped in her thick sleeping bag warned that tomorrow she would face greater power than she had seen so far. Oh, why can’t I go home and just be silly little me, she thought, I want to meet my friends and have a laugh, even go to school and sit through some boring lessons, anything but face this terror. She wrapped her head in the cloak and opened the locket holding the starstone. It flickered with blue light but there was no clarity, no image of her bedroom. No, it wasn’t going to let her go yet. She closed it up and let it drop between her breasts.
Something had woken her up. She shivered. Even wrapped in her sleeping bag and quilt jacket the cold of the night had penetrated. But it wasn’t the cold that had awoken her. Her birthmark was itching and there was something else. It was still completely dark, surely no-one was moving yet. There it was again. A soft moan. September dismissed it; it’s just the wind blowing amongst the rocks and the tent ropes. Again. A low, sustained groan. Then, pandemonium. Shouting, flapping of cloth as someone rushed from a tent, stamping of feet, the ponies whinnying with fright. A face thrust through the entrance of her tent, a frightened face lit by the dim light of an oil lamp. It took a moment for September to recognise Sieffre, his expression was so contorted.
“Cludydd! A Cyhyraeth is upon us. Help us before we all die.”
September struggled to extricate herself from her bedding.
“What can I do? Where is it?”
“It’s all around us, above us. Can’t you hear it moaning? It will find us all and its touch means death.”
September grasped her pendant beneath her cloak, not sure whether she should bring the stone out.
“But what do I do?”
“Protect us! You must, quickly or it will be all over for us.” The face withdrew.
Protect. How could she do that? The stone had defended her in the past against attackers. It had driven them off but could it simply shield them? She drew the pendant out and unclipped the catch. A mist swirled inside the stone. Perhaps it was an image of the Cyhyraeth. What words should she use? She didn’t know enough of the strange ancient language that controlled the powers of Gwlad. She muttered, “Protect us, protect us,” over and over again and clasped the Maengolauseren to her chest. “Protect us, protect us.”
A ball of blue light grew out of the stone enclosing her hands. It grew slowly at first but expanded faster and faster. It enveloped her, then filled the tent, then beyond. She knelt with the stone pressed against her breast surrounded by a bright blue mist. She rocked back and forth, still muttering, “Protect us, protect us”.
She heard someone enter the tent. Sieffre’s voice came through the glowing blue haze.
“That’s it Cludydd. You have created a dome of light that is repelling the Cyhyraeth.”
“How will I know when to stop?” September said still thinking, protect us, protect us.
“I don’t know. Perhaps the Maengolauseren itself will know when the danger is past.”
She carried on repeating her mantra while the blue light swirled around her. Then a feeling of relief washed through September. She knew that she had been successful. She had repulsed the unseen wraith. The blue glow faded. Dim light from Sieffre’s oil lamp was all that illuminated the tent now. He looked away from her, concentrating on listening. For many seconds he remained frozen, then he relaxed.
“Yes, it’s gone. You have dispersed the Cyhyraeth. I must check on everyone.” He left again. September crawled over her bed and out into the cold night air. There were other people milling around the faint embers of the camp fire. Heulwen was there wrapped in a white dressing gown, Sieffre himself and Elystan, Alawn, Nisien, Collen. No Gwrion.
“Where’s Gwrion?” September asked.
“It was his watch.” Sieffre said, then he ran from the camp towards the shelter of a rock where the ponies had been left overnight. There was silence for a few moments then a cry. The whole party followed Sieffre. In the dull yellow light of the lamps September saw lumps on the ground, like small hillocks. The ponies, she realised, were all lying down, not moving.
“The ponies? What’s wrong with them?” September asked.
“Dead,” Elystan said, “Every one of them.”
Sieffre was kneeling beside a smaller lump.
“Gwrion?” September asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes. He’s dead. He ran to the ponies when he heard them panic. The Cyhyraeth g
ot him and them before your dome expanded to protect us.”
September covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a sob and ran forward. Gwrion was lying rigid with his limbs contorted into unusual positions by the pain of the Cyhyraeth’s touch. His face, dimly visible in the light of the lamp was an unrecognisable mass of pustules, some burst and bloody and his hands too showed the same swellings. September felt sick but she wanted to see more.
“No, keep back,” Sieffre said, “The bodies are lethal. One touch and the Cyhyraeth’s pestilence will spread to you. There’s nothing we can do.”
“There is,” Heulwen spoke coldly from behind September. “We must leave this place and ascend to the Arsyllfa. Now!”
“What about our baggage?” Nisien said, “Without the ponies we cannot carry everything.”
“Leave it,” Heulwen replied, “Leave it all. We must make haste to reach the safety of the Arsyllfa before we draw the other forces of the Malevolence upon us.”
September realised that she was still holding the stone, exposed. It glowed faintly. Oh my god, she thought, I’ve been broadcasting my position all this time. She shut the locket and shoved it under the cloak. At least the irritation in her hip had eased.
“Heulwen’s right,” Sieffre said, “We have no need of our belongings except for our weapons. We must escort the Cludydd to the safety of the Arsyllfa, and quickly.”
The five men ran back to the campsite. Heulwen grasped September’s shoulders.
“Well done, Cludydd. The Maengolauseren protected us from the Cyhyraeth but we will need all our powers to reach my father.”
“Did well did I? One man and six ponies dead. It’s never quite good enough.”
She twisted out off Heulwen’s embrace and stormed to her tent. In the darkness she felt for her belt and buckled it around her waist feeling reassured by the heavy short sword resting against her thigh. She wrapped her jacket tightly around herself and the cloak over it. The others were already waiting by the fire when she emerged. The lamps had been put out. Starlight alone illuminated the group.
“Let’s hurry. Perhaps we can still evade the Malevolence, if we move quickly and keep the stone hidden,” Heulwen said. Sieffre led the party off at a trot. September stumbled over the rough, rocky path but the others were sure-footed in the dark.
It was cold, dark and quiet. September realised that since waking up with the moan of the Cyhyraeth she had heard no sound of the battle for the Arsyllfa. She looked up. The mountain was a black shadow against the stars. She stopped and stared in wonder. High up with the air thinner even more stars were visible than she had seen long ago on the hill above Amaethaderyn or crossing the Llyn Pysgod. There hardly seemed any darkness between the stars, they were so numerous. There was a thump on her back.
“Oh, sorry, Cludydd, I didn’t see you had stopped. Are you alright,” Elystan said, grabbing her arm to stop her falling. September recovered herself.
“No, it’s my fault. I just happened to look up at the sky and saw all the stars. It’s beautiful.”
“I know, I love being up here in the hills. This is why they are called Bryn am Seren, the hills of stars. The sky is often clear like it is tonight. But we must keep up with the others.”
September realised that Sieffre and Heulwen had gone on ahead. She hurried after them looking for her footing across the rough valley floor.
“Have you noticed,” she said as she caught them up, “that the attack on the Arsyllfa has stopped?”
Sieffre paused and turned to her.
“For now, that is true, but I fear it will not be over for good. I think our camp presented an alternative target for the Malevolence which has given the Arsyllfa some respite. But we must hurry and get as close as we can while there is some calm.” He turned away again and resumed his trot. September kept pace but was already beginning to puff and pant.
Very soon they slowed as the path, or whatever signs they were following, began to rise. It grew steeper and steeper and September had to search in the darkness for each footing. At least there were steps cut into the rock. They became more frequent and closer together until it felt as though she was climbing an endless staircase. She couldn’t imagine laden ponies finding this at all easy.
“Is this the main route to the Arsyllfa?” she said to Sieffre just in front of her.
“No, Cludydd. We have avoided the main track which winds up the east slope of the mountain. The Mordeyrn recommended this route which takes us up to the ridge then up the western face of the peak, around the back if you like, of the Arsyllfa. But we will have to come back round to the east at the last to make our entrance.”
“Why did the Mordeyrn suggest this way?”
“The focus of the attacks has been on the east side of the Arsyllfa, the side that has the great metal doors, but that is the only entrance. The Mordeyrn thinks we might be able to keep out of the Adwyth’s attention by taking this route.”
“Whichever way we go we have to climb I suppose.”
“That’s correct my lady, and soon dawn will come and we will see how far we have to go.”
They resumed the climb. September could think of nothing more than lifting one foot after another and following the back of the man in front of her. Soon her legs ached and despite the morning cold she sweated under her quilted jacket and the cloak. After a countless number of steps she noticed that she could see more and not just the grey wool of Sieffre’s coat. The darkness was lifting; dawn was coming. She looked up again and saw the stars fading, but not just because the rising sun was banishing them from the night sky. A cloud was forming around the peak so that just as she was beginning to see more around her the chance of seeing their destination was taken from her like a curtain across a stage.
“The attack resumes,” Sieffre noted quietly, and hardly had he spoken than the first flash of lightning illuminated the thickening cloud and thunder rolled across the valley. At the same time September felt the faint irritation on her hip. The Malevolence was certainly active.
“Hurry, we must get to the western face as soon as we can,” Sieffre urged.
September found herself carried along at a greater pace despite the ache in her thighs. Nevertheless it was daylight by the time they reached the ridge. Heulwen did not pause to look at the view but disappeared down the west side. A few steps more and September also topped the ridge and saw that the path dropped a few metres and then turned south. It was level for a short distance but there in front of them was the bulk of the mountain. Above them it was now shrouded in dark cloud from which emerged an irregular drumbeat of thunderous explosions and bursts of light. She hurried after Sieffre and Heulwen relishing for a moment the horizontal path.
Soon they were in the shadow of the mountain and the first tendrils of fog drifted around them. The climb resumed but the steps were narrow and steep so that despite the greater light September still had to take great care where she put her feet. At least the sounds of the battle were muffled by the mass of the mountain in between.
Each step upwards took them deeper into the fog. It was cold and dank and stank. It had a sulphurous odour, which irritated September’s throat. She knew it wasn’t just her because the others were coughing. Heulwen called a halt and the party stopped in line as there was no level ground on which to congregate. Elystan, who was still behind her, passed September a leather water bottle.
“Clear the foul stench of the Malevolence from your mouth, Cludydd,” he said. September took a long swig, grateful for the cool, refreshing water. She was also thankful for the pause, awkward though it was clinging to the mountainside. The fatigue seemed to flow from her legs and her breathing settled. The break was short and Heulwen set off again, quickly disappearing into the fog. September hurried to keep Sieffre in sight.
Step, breathe, cough, step. Their progress slowed as the climb became steeper, and the fog thicker. September held her arm across her mouth trying to stop the noxious air entering her lungs. The noise of the one sided ba
ttle also grew with each metre that they climbed towards the summit and the closer they got to the battle the more her birthmark troubled her, first feeling like just an annoyance then a growing soreness. The fog glowed with every flash and crash of pure energy flung from their spears by the unseen riders of the Adarllwchgwin. September heaved one foot after another up the narrow steps, using her hands to grasp the rocks to keep her balance on the precarious cliff, each step now a supreme effort, her body aching.
She bumped against Sieffre’s legs not realising that he had stopped. She saw that Heulwen too had paused and they were pressed against the mountainside. Sieffre looked down at her.
“Not far now Cludydd. We’re nearly at the point where we circle around to the east side of the mountain. Then it is just a short way to the entrance,” Sieffre coughed and cleared his throat, “but this is where we will be attacked. The Arsyllfa itself has shielded us from the Malevolence and your cloak has kept you hidden, but once we reach the east wall we will be exposed and we will have to fight.”
A shiver of fear passed through September. The burning in her hip was a constant reminder of the evil that lay ahead. Why do I worry? she thought, the stone has protected me. I can blast all these monsters away; they cannot fight against the power of the Maengolauseren. Nevertheless, she felt scared, her understanding of her power was vague and her knowledge of what she faced was incomplete. So far she had survived while her companions had not. Would she always be the lucky one?
“Tell Elystan and Collen to climb past you. Alawn and Nisien will guard your rear,” Sieffre went on. She passed the message on and the two men squeezed around her. Then the party resumed the climb, slowly, watchfully. An especially loud clap of thunder warned September that the Adarllwchgwin were close.
The path levelled off and in front of her Elystan and Collen stood up and took their bows from off their shoulders. They each pulled an arrow from their quivers and drew their bowstrings. Sieffre stood by their side, his sword drawn and raised. Heulwen stood behind the three men, her gold brooch in her hand.
Seventh Child Page 24
