This Present Past

by Traci Harding

  Life seemed less harsh and horrible than Creirwy might have imagined it would be a few years before – accepting Owain’s generosity and her mother’s help had made life easier, and infinitely more comfortable. For the first time in her parenting life, Creirwy felt supported, and a tenuous contentment descended upon the little cottage at Llyn Tegid for several years.

  One drizzly day in the spring of Chiglas’s ninth year, Creirwy returned – soaked to the skin – from foraging berries for breakfast to find the King of the Eryri in her cottage, gawping at Chiglas, caged before him. Where was Morda?

  Her boy was as large as any man now and double the body weight – he could easily have crushed her with an embrace, had her amulet not been protecting her. Chiglas stayed in his cage more often than not these days as his size made him lazy. ‘Can I help you, Highness?’ She placed her basket on the table.

  ‘Lady Tegid.’ Cadfer’s attention shifted from her back to Chiglas, who was making blubbering sounds. The warlord’s eyes returned to her as Chiglas fell quiet. ‘I wish to arrange a meeting with your Lord.’

  ‘I serve no lord, nor do I have any connection to the Night Hunter any more.’

  Cadfer’s sights darted back to Chiglas who was mumbling and licking his lips – was he telepathically linking with the bastard king? Or was Cadfer simply intrigued by the oddity before him? There was no blood on Cadfer to evince telepathy; but Chiglas had mastered how to communicate without near killing the people he wished to control.

  ‘So, I cannot help you, I’m afraid,’ Creirwy spoke over whatever might have been quietly going on.

  But Cadfer remained focused on Chiglas, and his smile slowly broadened. He began to chuckle and Chiglas snorted as he did when amused.

  ‘I must insist you leave.’ Creirwy shoved her hand deep into her skirt pocket where a large hole gave her access to the dagger she kept strapped to her leg, but she did not draw it.

  ‘But I just got here.’ Cadfer approached her; battle-hardened since they’d last met, he bore scars and the putrid smell of death hung on his bloodstained clothes. ‘And contrary to what you imagine, you live in my kingdom . . . thus you do have a lord, and he is me. Actually, you are beholden to two lords, but I suspect our majesty has already been serviced. My turn.’

  Creirwy allowed him to back her up against the wall, to bring him in closer.

  Chiglas was excited by the threat and began screeching and rattling the bars of his cage.

  Cadfer grabbed her throat, and pressed against her to hold her still, but his advance halted when he felt the sharp prick of the dagger now aimed at his private parts. ‘Think again, or you won’t be conceiving any more bastards for Gwynedd.’

  ‘They won’t be bastards long.’ Cadfer let her go, held his hands up and backed away, forcing a smile.

  Was he implying that he planned to overthrow Caswallon and murder his heir?

  ‘I could have you executed for threatening your king.’

  ‘And invite my mother’s wrath upon yourself? Not even a halfwit would be so foolish.’

  Chiglas began grunting and Cadfer took notice.

  ‘Leave this instant . . . or Keridwen will hear of your intrusion.’ Creirwy had to get them apart.

  ‘This is my land.’ Cadfer was baited into giving her his full attention.

  ‘This is my mother’s land! And has been since antiquity. All mortal kings rule here by her good grace!’ It seemed Creirwy had not lost all her Fey fire, for she had never sounded so threatening, nor felt so empowered. ‘So leave before her benefaction is withdrawn.’

  ‘Where is the old crone now?’ Cadfer held out both hands in question, and she was unsure if he was curious or challenging her.

  ‘Get out!’ She swiped her blade in his direction and he was forced to jump backwards.

  ‘Crazy bitch!’ He laughed off her attempt to smite him as she circled around him to herd him towards the door. ‘Nice necklace.’ He admired her amulet – was it the reason he’d yet to draw any of his weapons?

  ‘Do not make me ask again.’

  Cadfer eyed her over, appearing more apathetic now. ‘No fun humping a scraggy old bag of bones.’ Cadfer backed up towards the hallway just as Morda came through the door, his axe still in hand.

  ‘What’s going on? Who are you?’ He raised his weapon to appear more threatening.

  When Cadfer turned to spy the dwarf of a fellow on the defensive, he laughed out loud. ‘I am your king and I am leaving.’ Cadfer contained his amusement. ‘You are in the way.’

  Morda backed up and Cadfer strode straight to his horse.

  ‘Do not return.’ Creirwy was buzzing all over – furious, relieved and petrified – as she watched the warlord leave without further comment.

  He hadn’t asked any of the obvious questions like who or what Chiglas was, or where he came from. For a headstrong young king, Cadfer had resigned himself to leaving far too easily for comfort. Or had her amulet warded him off?

  Once Cadfer mounted his horse and rode away, Morda rushed inside. ‘My Lady, are you harmed?’

  ‘Just shaken.’ She put the blade away, and looked to Chiglas, who’d gone very quiet. ‘What did you tell him?’

  He walked away and lay down.

  ‘Answer me!’ Creirwy began to tremble and sat down.

  If Cadfer came back with warriors she would be at his mercy, and full moon was weeks away! She had no way of knowing just how much information Chiglas had managed to glean from her memory, but the fact that Owain had a bastard heir would be enough to stir trouble. For until Owain’s queen gave birth, Caswallon and his heirs would inherit all his brother’s territories. Set Caswallon and Owain against each other, and that would expedite Cadfer’s ascension to the throne, for he would only need to destroy whichever brother was the victor to take control of half of Cymru.

  ‘Come.’ She bade Morda follow her out into the courtyard, where she whistled and her mother’s horse came running. ‘I need you to take a message to King Owain.’

  ‘But Lady—’ He glanced to the road via which Cadfer had just departed.

  ‘Neither of us can stop Cadfer coming back for Chiglas. But if there is any chance to keep them apart, we must try.’

  This was a convergence of minds she’d never considered, but with its advent she realised it could prove to be the most destructive alliance for the Cymry since Hengist met Gwtheyrn.

  She headed into the stables to retrieve a bridle, fur and saddle as Morda baulked at the huge horse.

  ‘Take Caston. Tell Owain what has happened and that he must send a guard to prevent this alliance ever forming.’

  ‘I have never been on a horse, I have no idea how to ride one!’ Morda confessed.

  ‘Neither did Gwion.’ Creirwy dressed the animal, placing the wooden bit between its teeth, ahead of pulling the leather bridle up over its head. ‘Lucky for you both, Caston knows how to carry a human.’

  Morda nodded, despite his conflicted expression. ‘But—’

  ‘I will keep watch from within the annex and withdraw into Mother’s library if need be.’ She placed a fur on the horse’s back and then the new saddle Owain had provided them with that had never been used. ‘My life means little compared to your quest, Morda.’

  As the saddle was strapped on, Morda fetched a stool so that he might have some chance of getting his foot in the stirrup. ‘You be very careful, Lady.’

  ‘May the Goddess speed your journey and keep us both safe.’ Creirwy gave him a hand up into the saddle.

  The wee man gave a firm nod and hung on for dear life as she slapped Castor’s rump and the horse took off down the road.

  A chill like death’s caress ran through her. Life was about to change, perhaps even end. If Cadfer got his hands on her, and Chiglas got his way, her death would not be swift or kind. She could just conceal herself in the library, but once inside there was no way of knowing what was transpiring out here. If Chiglas or Cadfer decided to await her emergence, she risked them gaining acc
ess to treasures that could be destructive in the wrong hands. There was also a chance that she had misread what happened earlier and Chiglas had told Cadfer nothing. If she disappeared into the library for an extended time, leaving him locked in his cell, he could perish. In her head she knew this would be for the best, and yet her heart ached at the thought of just abandoning her child to slowly die – Chiglas would have been better off if she’d allowed Gwyn ap Nudd to take his life.

  At sundown she fed Chiglas, who made no fuss when not let out of his cage to eat, nor did he ask after Morda’s whereabouts. He ate and then just sat there, against the back wall of his cage, staring blankly out. Usually he was full of questions and demands, but tonight, nothing, and that was unnerving.

  As Creirwy withdrew from the cottage into the rain and closed the door, she had the strangest premonition that, one way or another, her time with Chiglas was coming to an end. Had the night been clear and dry, perhaps she would have found the nerve to set the cottage alight and be done with it. But the truth was no one really knew what Chiglas was capable of, and that uncertainty kept her toeing the line.

  It was going to be dark in the annex tonight, and with no moon all the more so. The chances of staying awake were slim, so Creirwy had rounded up Moonlight and the other horses and brought them into the courtyard – if anyone approached, or Chiglas escaped, the horses would ensure she heard about it.

  It took a long time for Creirwy to drift off to sleep, and she did so with blade in hand and the lever to the entrance door to the outer chamber of the library roped open to speed her escape.

  She awoke to the sound of horses, and voices just outside her crawl space. But whose men were they, Owain’s or Cadfer’s? The latter; Owain’s men would have been calling for her, not searching.

  ‘It’s all dark.’

  Upon hearing a man entering the crawl space, her hand wrapped around the hilt lying idle against her palm and she stood, of the mind to release the rope holding the trap door open, but in the dark she fumbled with the slip knots.

  A hand gripped around her ankle. ‘What have we here then?’ He yanked and she near lost her balance, save the stubborn rope that supported her resistance.

  She stabbed down close to where the voice had come from, sinking her blade into something substantial; the grip on her foot released, as did the rope from the tree root.

  Once inside the outer chamber, Creirwy raced for the top step and landed hard upon it with both feet, whereupon the stone plinth closed her inside.

  ‘Stupid, stupid woman.’ She ran down the stairs two at a time.

  When Cadfer pulled his dead warrior out of the annex, it wouldn’t take him long to work out there had been someone inside, and he would search for their exit point. Chiglas might even recall—

  The sound of stone grinding against stone alerted her that the plinth was sliding aside again as she reached the bottom step.

  Cadfer spotted her from the balcony. ‘Now you are mine, Fey bitch!’

  He came down the stairwell in great bounds as Creirwy reached Luna’s stream of conscious light that pooled at her feet. The wall of the cavern vanished with more haste than usual – clearly, Luna detected her urgency – and she ran inside. ‘Lock down, Luna.’

  Cadfer raced from the stairwell. ‘You miserable whore! I will—’

  The wall regenerated and the cavernous room fell silent.

  Creirwy’s heart was pounding so hard, it near choked her of breath. She glanced to the dagger in her hand still dripping blood, and cast it away in horror. If she had just locked herself in here in the first place, she would not have killed anyone and this library may have remained a secret. But now Cadfer knew it was here. Her mother would be furious.

  She collapsed onto the floor, weeping for what she had allowed to happen and looking aside to the weapon she’d cast away, considered turning it upon herself. Beyond these walls how could she ever feel safe again? If Cadfer and Chiglas joined forces, everyone beyond these walls would suffer – all because she had defied the Night Hunter. What in the name of Annwn had she been thinking? But then she recalled the perfect babe who had been born to her and wept anew, knowing that if given the same choice now, she could still not have given him up. Damn human emotion, conflicting and exhausting! Fear and sadness had shrouded her life so long that they had become second nature.

  On overload her mind numbed and went blank as she lay still, staring up at the blue light features on the ceiling. The crock of plenty, horns akin to Morda’s thirst quencher, and a lifetime of reading matter, meant Creirwy had everything she needed to sustain her within this fortress. Gradually shock turned to elation – in this present moment she was alive, safe, and in complete solitude for the first time since she’d given birth! Odd that she felt set free, locked inside a vault. She began stripping the clothes from her body as she stood and, once naked, she took up one of the horns of plenty. ‘Warm water.’ She raised the horn and poured it all over herself. ‘Warmer.’ The water continued to flow, just hot enough to scorch her a little. She imagined her past being burned from her being and drained away, along with the water, through small holes in the black metallic floor – the feeling was sublime.

  She had been quietly considering fleeing Llyn Tegid to somewhere Chiglas and Cadfer would never find her. But out in the wider world she had no protection at all, whereas here she had a safe house that was second to none. The problem was her enemies knew where to find her, and they did not fear this place now that her mother did not permanently reside here.

  And yet, this was the greatest library in the known world, filled with treasure beyond imagining – if there was a means for a mortal woman to strike fear into the hearts of hardened warriors, she would find it here.

  Come full moon Keridwen would return and Creirwy was not budging until she arrived.

  Time in seclusion was spent reading up on spell lore primarily, and although there were some wonderful revenge spells that could be worked on individuals, Creirwy failed to find anything so impressive as to suit her purpose.

  Her eyes kept being drawn towards the volume that her parents always ruled forbidden – a book of dark magic. Yet, Keridwen had also claimed that they needed evil to fight evil.

  Several times a day Creirwy walked past the bound text in question, while searching shelves for scrolls of interest, but this day, she felt particularly allured by it. The glyphs on the cover of the volume read The Key of Electra, a title that had never struck her as particularly malefic. There was a trick to opening the case that her parents had never revealed. The glass was much thicker than any of the other clear display cases, and of a quality completely unknown in this day and age.

  ‘Creirwy!’

  She turned to see Keridwen enter the library and immediately sprinted down the spiralling mezzanine. ‘Mother!’

  ‘Creirwy! Thank heavens!’ Keridwen made hast towards her also, and they embraced.

  ‘Cadfer came and took Chiglas,’ Creirwy began confessing their woes. ‘I sent Morda to warn Owain, but I don’t know if he made it.’ She pulled back, holding her mother at arm’s length, and upon seeing Keridwen’s morbid expression, her heart sank.

  ‘He did not,’ Keridwen appeared deeply saddened to advise.

  Tears flooded her eyes; Creirwy didn’t want to ask. ‘How are you so certain?’

  ‘The pieces of his body have been returned.’

  ‘I sent him to his death—’ She ran up through the antechamber and daylight blinded her for a moment as she crawled out into the courtyard, but the stench was repulsive. The first thing she laid eyes upon was the body of a warrior stabbed through the head. This was her doing – her stomach churned with revulsion. But more distressing still was the sight of Morda’s head stuck on a pike in the centre of the courtyard, with the rest of his body parts strewn around the base. The putrid smell made her gag, yet her jaw clenched as anger welled within her and strengthened her gut.

  ‘You survived.’ Keridwen approached from behind. ‘That
is all Morda cared about.’

  ‘But now Cadfer and Chiglas know this library is here, and that I am alone,’ she stated through clenched teeth. ‘I have been searching the texts for some deterrent we might use to keep them from returning, but so far I have found nothing. Unless The Key of Electra can help—’

  ‘Universe preserve us! No!’ Keridwen scolded. ‘Never, and I mean NEVER is consulting that book helpful.’

  ‘Then I don’t know what I can do? I must hide down there all my days, or flee Llyn Tegid—’

  ‘Dear child, this is my land and I will not see you driven off it so easily. I may be forbidden to obstruct any event that is consequence of a covenant made with Gwyn ap Nudd—’

  ‘So you cannot hinder Chiglas’s new association,’ Creirwy supposed.

  ‘Correct. But . . .’ Clearly, Keridwen’s mind was ticking over. ‘I can give the evil duo just cause to pause and think twice about ever returning here, or making war on our appointed kings.’ She smiled to reassure Creirwy.

  Glad as she was to see her mother’s spirits lifted, Creirwy was frowning. ‘How?’

  ‘We have a secret weapon even Chiglas doesn’t know about. Trust me.’ Her mother was shaking her head, seemingly amazed. ‘There truly are no accidents.’

  As Keridwen soared over the Eryri on the full moon night, the campfires of Cadfer’s band were easy to spot. They were but a few valleys away from Llyn Tegid and she came to ground in the clearing of the wood not far afield.

  ‘Await my signal.’ She left her accomplice and made her way to the campsite on foot, wearing the guise of the crone.

  As the war band were all engrossed in eating, drinking and harassing a couple of young women they had kidnapped from somewhere, Keridwen managed to walk right into their camp and had to announce herself to be noticed. ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’

  All eyes turned her way, and Cadfer laughed. ‘Get lost, old woman, lest you wish to become part of the entertainment this evening.’