September was at a loss. How could she rebuild the iron bridge as the people expected? The Maengolauseren was useful for despatching manifestations and servants of the Malevolence, but how could it be used for manipulating iron? Of course, this was the task set by the cludyddau of Mars so she had to find a way. She had learnt how to wield the power of silver, mercury, copper and gold through the starstone, now it was the turn of iron. But as in each other task she had to find the correct emotion. She had seen Iorwerth brandishing his great sword, Aldyth, to kill the Adarllwchgwin. Iddig had shaken his sword at the Draig tân and Cynhaearn had made the iron framework of the Arsyllfa glow to withstand the attack lead by Malice. Each had bellowed oaths and imprecations against the attackers. But there was another side of the cludydd o haearn’s power. She recalled Tudfwlch telling of how he had been chosen as an apprentice after watching Iorwerth hammer red-hot iron into intricate shapes. How could they be both warriors and craftsmen? It was a puzzle and September couldn’t see an answer.
The old man escorted her to the heap of twisted iron that was the remains of the bridge. Some men were half-heartedly hammering at a girder, attempting to straighten it. The iron resisted their efforts. September guessed that to make the metal obey his commands the cludydd would have to assert his power, be aggressive even. She saw the red-faced angry Iorwerth fighting off the huge evil birds. Anger was the emotion of the warrior, but what about the peaceful ironsmith? No, September thought, though anger is the key it is not the wild anger of someone filled with hate or rage, such as the servants of the Malevolence, but a controlled aggression, a determination to make the iron fulfil its purpose. She could see the fierce, focussed anger of Iorwerth slashing with his sword or beating a red hot rod into shape. She was reminded of the fearful anger she had felt when Tudfwlch tore the Maengolauseren from around her neck and her iron blade had found its way into her hand and thrust almost of its own accord into his side. Wild, uncontrolled anger was bad, a tool of the Malevolence, but anger properly directed and tempered was a good emotion. She understood.
The stone responded and heated her hand. Stepping towards the ruined bridge she thrust her fist forwards, feeling her heart beating faster and her face glow with blood-red heat. She commanded the broken and bent bars of iron to remould themselves into their former shapes.
She was back amongst the ghostly red figures on the red planet. She panted.
“Did it work? Did the bridge rebuild itself?”
“Indeed it would have,” chuckled Iddig, “You commanded that iron like a true cludydd o haearn.”
“But it wasn’t real,” September said, “It was just a test to see if I could find anger.”
“Which you did,” Iorwerth acknowledged, “but you also realised that anger is a difficult emotion. Uncontrolled it is destructive. People who are angry are easy prey for the Malevolence if their anger is directed at their fellows out of disgust or envy.”
Cynhaearn added, “Even some cludyddau have succumbed to the Malevolence because our emotion of power can be subverted to hate,” September now knew why Tudfwlch had been converted by the Malevolence; when fighting the villagers of Glanyrafon his inexperience had allowed his anger to edge into hate and opened him up to infection by the evil.
Cynhaearn went on, “But kept under control and directed at the haearn itself the power of Mawrth is with you and you have the ability to bend haearn to your will.”
“And I’ve had another lesson in understanding my feelings. Thank you.” September felt herself moving away from the throng. “And now I think I’ve just got two more tests and two more planets to visit.”
“Farewell, Cludydd,” the men and women of Mars chorused.
September rose quickly from the surface. Her next destination was a distant bright spot in the star-filled sky. In fact it was some time before she was able to discern which of the stars was the planet until Jupiter took on the form of a silver-grey disc. Where are the coloured stripes and the great red spot? She wondered. All the pictures she had seen of the giant planet had pointed out the great storm cloud and she recalled how huge the planet was. But to her it was just a great dull silver sphere. Why did all the planets seem so featureless when telescopes and space probes showed that they were not? As she travelled through space unencumbered by a bulky space suit, September thought about the question. There were no telescopes in this world, she remembered, not even the astronomer of the Arsyllfa had one to look through. There certainly were no space rockets. She was seeing the planets as people had seen them and imagined them to be before telescopes changed astronomy. Before Galileo, she realised. This whole universe is a model of what people back home used to believe before Galileo and the others changed everything.
September felt triumphant that she had worked things out, but time for thinking was over. Her feet touched the dull silver surface of Jupiter. The anticipated ghostly figures quickly materialised around her. She looked for familiar faces and soon picked out the youthful features of Berddig, cludydd o alcam of Amaethaderyn and Betrys, the plump Prif-cludydd.
“Welcome Cludydd, it’s lovely to greet you, my dear,” Betrys said jovially.
“Thank you,” September replied, “It’s nice to see you too, but, Berddig, I’m so happy to see you again.” September felt that she wanted to hug the young cludydd but she didn’t think it was possible to grasp a spirit.
“And I too,” Berddig said, “I am pleased that you completed your journey to the Arsyllfa and that you are now learning the powers that the Maengolauseren gives you.”
September’s happiness was dampened by the memories of her journey.
“I wish I could have come on this magic journey without all the travel. Then perhaps Tudfwlch and Cynddylig and the others might still be alive.”
“Perhaps you needed those experiences to prepare you for your tasks and the trials that lie ahead,” Betrys said, still smiling.
“We celebrate your survival and praise the memory of Tudfwlch and Cynddylig,” Berddig said, “I hope the cloak of alcam and plwm carried out its purpose.”
“I think so. We just kept running into things where I had to use the starstone to protect myself. I wasn’t able to hide myself away under the cloak. But it is a marvellous thing.”
“And now you have come to learn how the power of Iau passes into alcam,” Berddig said.
“Alcam is a special metal,” Betrys explained, “Alone it has little power, but when its qualities are combined with the other metals they are stronger and can withstand forces of decay. There is greater power in a union between metals.”
Berddig nodded, “The same is true of people. Individually we can fall to the evil. Together we live in peace and prosperity and can oppose the manifestations of the Malevolence.”
“You were the one who made that happen in Amaethaderyn,” September said, recalling Berddig’s role in welcoming her and organising the villagers to protect and support her.
The young man smiled.
“Your memories are important. We hope our task will delight you.”
The crowd thronged around her. She hadn’t seen so many people in one place since she had arrived in the Land. They were in some vast room. She had a sense of a ceiling overhead but the walls were so distant that they could not be seen. The room, however big it was, was filled with people and they all seemed to be addressing her.
September was standing on a low dais so that she could just see over the heads of the men and women pressed together facing her. They raised their voices, each struggling to be heard.
“Help us!”
“You must do…”
“Strike them…”
“You are the Cludydd…”
She saw from the implements in their hands and the adornments on their bodies and clothes, that some of the crowd were cludyddau. Here was a cludydd o haearn shaking a hammer; there a bearer of copper holding a small trumpet; beyond, a wielder of silver with an amulet of the shining metal. Each and every one was shouting at her.
No-one was speaking to their neighbour or waiting for a moment to take their turn. The sound of the raised voices was deafening. September held her hands to her ears, the stone still gripped in her left palm.
Crowds had always frightened her. She never wanted to be the centre of attention, had never performed on stage. At home she would have crumpled into a sobbing heap if just a few people had appealed to her in the manner of this multitude. She wasn’t at home though and September had learnt a lot about herself and about feelings. She didn’t collapse. She breathed gently and smoothly, shutting out the noise and the sight of the people, thinking.
What did the spirits of Jupiter intend by this task? Here was a bickering mass of people acting as individuals ignoring each other. Would a cludydd o alcam be able to calm them, bring order and get them to cooperate? Was that the power that Jupiter gave to the bearers of tin? If so, how did she draw on it?
What was the emotion that was the key to untapping the planet’s energy? She recalled Berddig’s last words to her. Which memories were important? Berddig had been efficient in organising the people of Amaethaderyn. The people, including the other cludyddau, looked to him for guidance and leadership which he provided cheerfully. Was there anything there?
She turned her thoughts to Betrys. She hardly knew the portly, jovial tin bearer but for the glee with which she had greeted her at dinner at the Arsyllfa. What was it Betrys had said to her? That her name meant ‘joy’. She seemed to be cheerful and jolly all the time. Indeed, although Berddig made serious decisions he too was always cheerful, always looking on the bright side, forever the optimist. What had he said? They would praise the lives of Tudfwlch and Cynddylig, not mourn them. Perhaps it was this feeling of optimism, of joy that drew people to them and gave them control over tin.
September was happy. She had the key to the power of Iau. She looked out again at the noisy, disparate crowd. She was not nervous of facing the mob. A feeling of elation filled her. She was jubilant. The stone warmed her hand. She raised her arms in the air and turned slowly in a circle radiating her smile.
“Friends. Listen to me,” she said.
She was facing the silver wraiths of Jupiter, each of them grinning broadly and clapping their hands with glee.
“Well done, Cludydd,” Betrys congratulated her, “You have indeed become a mistress of your emotions. You found the clues in our task most speedily.”
“Now you understand joy, you will find it easier to wield all the metals and to guide the people who support you,” Berddig said.
“Thank you,” September said ecstatically. She was filled with euphoria and confidence that she had all the tools for the task ahead of her. Well, almost all; there was one planet left to visit. She was already rising from the surface of Jupiter. The spirits waved their farewells.
6
She looked up into the black starlit sky. One of the stars up there was Saturn, her final destination. Rapidly one point of light took on the appearance of a planet but there were no distinctive rings. Of course, September thought, they can’t be seen without a telescope. What a shame, she thought, that the people of the Land do not know of the beauty of the rings of Saturn. The planet was a dull, pale grey, and as her feet dropped to the surface so a band of grey figures assembled around her. She recognised immediately the grey-haired, stooped figure of Padarn, the cludydd o plwm of Amaethaderyn. Alongside him was the shorter, stockier figure of Cynwal the Prif-cludydd from the mines of Mynydd Tywyll.
“We greet you, Cludydd, at the final stage of your long journey,” Cynwal said gravely.
“We are relieved that you have arrived at Sadwrn,” Padarn said, his face long and gloom-laden. “It shows that you have successfully completed the other six ordeals that equip you with the skills to face the Malevolence.”
“I’m glad I’ve got this far,” September replied cheerfully, “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got for my last task.” She knew that plwm, or lead, was a part of the cloak that had hidden her and the starstone from the Malevolence, but she wasn’t sure what else the metal was good for.”
“The task will certainly guide you to an understanding of the skills of a cludydd o plwm and show how the power of Sadwrn can assist in defending Daear from the incursions of evil,” Cynwal continued sombrely.
“It will cause us great anguish if you are not successful, Cludydd,” Padarn added.
Me too, September thought, having come this far I’m not going to fail at the final stage. She thought the cludyddau were being a bit negative. OK, so the Malevolence was a great threat but now that she had the Maengolauseren and the powers of the planets, surely she could succeed.
“Take care, Cludydd. Remember what plwm can do for you,” Padarn said.
She stood on a battlefield. The ground was a dusty, desert plain that stretched to a featureless horizon in all directions. Overhead the Sun shone in a cloudless sky radiating a fierce heat that made the air difficult to breathe and burned her skin. Around her were the relics of battle; wrecked wagons, weapons of war and bodies. Everywhere she looked there were bodies. She was drawn to them, her horror of the sight surpassed by her need to find out how they had suffered and died. Some bore deep cuts from a sharp blade while others were gouged by claws and some had limbs ripped off or huge bites torn from them. There were burns on some and others were swollen with skin that had turned black. Still more were covered with pustules and sores, and over everything the dust drifted. A number had arrow shafts buried in them, apparently fired by their own comrades. Some amongst the dead appeared unharmed but were nevertheless lifeless. September recognised many of the injuries as due to the manifestations of the Malevolence or the weapons of the servants of evil.
September hurried to the nearest still form, a young man with a short sword still gripped in his right hand. There were no marks on his body but his eyes were open and staring. Surely I have the power to help, September thought. She held the dull, cool starstone against the young warrior’s forehead and composed herself to feel compassion. The stone glowed with a silver light but the man remained unchanged. He was past the power of arian. September went to another lifeless form, a mature woman with a burn on her shoulder. She pressed the stone against the wound. Again it glowed without result. The energy of the Moon was of no use to her.
September leapt into the air becoming a great, blue-feathered eagle. She circled above the scene of the battle. It extended to the horizon in every direction. The same image repeated over and over again. The air was so hot that it was exhausting continuing to fly. Landing she changed into a panther with glossy blue-black fur and bounded over the ground, looking for something, anything, that was different but all that she saw was more death and destruction. In the heat she tired quickly and slowed to a loping walk, panting. She became a cobra with iridescent blue scales that slid over the hot sand examining each body for signs of what had befallen the great army but she found no clues other than the variety of injuries. She returned to her normal form and stood gazing at the endless field of bodies. The monotony of the scene drained the power of Mercury from her.
She raised her arm up and drew on her affection for all the people she had met in the Land. The stone glowed orange.
“Is anyone there?” she called. Her voice carried through the shimmering air. She was sure her question was transmitted around the whole globe. She waited, hoping for some answer, some reply that would tell her that someone still lived, but there was just silence. There was no-one left to whom the loving power of Venus could be extended.
She dropped her hand to her side. What else could she do? If there was no-one left what was the need for hope? If she expressed anger what was there to fight? If she could summon up just a smidgen of joy there was no-one to spread it to. Her powers were useless and without purpose.
The heat of the Sun was burning her up; sweat dripped from her, each breath of hot air scorched her lungs. She sat down feeling despair. What was she doing here? This was the seventh and last task. The
other six planets, their metals and emotions were of no use. What was the essential feature of Saturn and lead? Lead was heavy and dull; the planet furthest from the warming, life-giving Sun. The cludyddau had appeared glum and woeful. Was that it? Was sadness the emotion she was expected to find? Was she supposed to feel sadness at all the death and destruction she was faced with here on this hot dusty plain?
Covering her face with her hands she looked up at the fierce sun. It was not the gently warming, benevolent Sun of the cludyddau o aur. It was a destructive ball of fire that was consuming the Earth and turning it into a hell. It was growing, the temperature rising ever higher. Was it the final onslaught of the Malevolence?
September felt as if she was in a furnace. It was becoming difficult to think. It was too much effort to even sit up in this heat. She lay in the dust as dejected and miserable as she could be. How could this agony draw power from Saturn and manipulate lead? It was such a negative emotion that no good could surely come of it. But, she thought, in feeling sorrow she recognised the consequences of actions and could contemplate pain and death. Lead was a barrier to radiation that killed; her cloak had defended her from the Malevolence’s perception. Perhaps there was a link. Feeling sorrow made someone more aware of dangers that plwm and the power of Saturn could provide protection from. A shield of lead could block this burning heat from the Land.
She dropped her head onto her hands and felt an overwhelming sadness for all the people who had died at the whim of the Malevolence. The Maengolauseren went icy cold in her hand and as she took her final breath she commanded a shield to form over the Earth.
The cold revived her. She opened her eyes and raised herself up on her arms and felt the joy of cool air in her lungs. The hard, grey surface of Saturn was beneath her and the spirits of plwm were gazing down at her with concern in their eyes.
The Power of Seven Page 9
