Chiglas grunted out a few words of warning, and when Cadfer’s sights returned to Keridwen, he observed her more warily.
‘So . . . you are that crone?’
‘Indeed. I have come to discuss our little dispute.’
‘Really?’ He stood in challenge as his men dropped their amusements to encircle her at a distance. ‘I am shaking in my boots.’
Keridwen grinned – how easy it was to have no fear of Otherworldly power when you had never before encountered it. ‘I also intend to put to rest any notions either of you bastards might have about causing unrest in my kingdoms,’ she added, and all the men present were most amused by this.
Chiglas grunted through his mirth, and Cadfer looked pleased by what he learned from his new ally. ‘My new brother, or should I say nephew—’ his grin broadened ‘—tells me that you are forbidden to interfere in the affairs of kings and men these days.’
Keridwen served her grandson a dirty look – the little fink had been reading her thoughts too, and she was adept at psychic self-defence.
Chiglas only squawked at her dismay.
‘Alas that is true,’ she admitted. ‘But I have a dear friend who is not so bound.’ She let loose a loud whistle.
A great rumbling like thunder moving across the ground startled all present. The din of devastation moved progressively closer – each reverberating thud accompanied by the loud, bone-chilling crack of trees breaking and crashing to the earth. The forest further up the valley was seen to fold apart as the huge form of the dragon, eyes blazing red in the dark, broke through into the clearing and then paused to roar and spew fire into the air.
Every man present quaked at the sight; even her grandson raised himself.
‘I thought you said your family had no Otherworldly influence any more?’ Cadfer looked to Chiglas, who shrugged and began backing towards the horses as most of the men were.
‘This is Rufus. He has an appetite for evil types. His digestive tract is a one-way ticket to damnation, and not even the Night Hunter can fetch your soul back from the sub-planes,’ Keridwen was delighted to inform the retreating warriors. Only Cadfer stood his ground. ‘Threaten my daughter or my kings again, or come within a day’s ride of my valley, and Rufus will blot you from existence.’ Her eyes fell on Chiglas, who stared defiantly back at her. ‘You have until the moon sets to get beyond my specified border and stay there.’
Cadfer looked to Chiglas, who grunted in response to his unspoken request for advice. ‘We don’t want any trouble, do we, lads?’ Cadfer resolved to retreat.
‘Good.’ Keridwen was pleased to hear it. ‘You can leave the ladies with me.’
The two girls fled to the crone’s side, far more afraid of the war band than the witch and her dragon.
‘Now . . . how did you put it? Get lost, lest you wish to become part of the entertainment this evening,’ Keridwen proffered, inwardly amused by how perturbed Cadfer appeared, yet displeased that his glare was so defiant and he wasn’t retreating fast enough for her liking. ‘Actually, you know what?’ She clicked her fingers and waved her ally forward.
Rufus took a few thundering steps down the valley and spread his huge wings, taking to the air and swooping low over the camp – sending horses fleeing and riders chasing. The women at her side, so harrowed only moments before, laughed and cheered the dragon on.
Keridwen would not be able to hold back the wave of recompense that was rolling towards her king and daughter forever, but for the moment Creirwy could sleep easy knowing Rufus had her back.
BELOVED OF TEN THOUSAND YEARS
Being here meant breaking a solemn vow. The Goddess had predicted he would do exactly that, yet had refused to elaborate on the circumstances surrounding his disobedience. She had been most insistent that Creirwy’s life in this present past must not be altered in any way, and that one day he would understand why it must be so. This claim had proven true and yet, not death nor aeons away had extinguished the torch he held for her; the recollection of their ill-fated parting still ripped at his soul as much as it ever did. This day’s opportunity had been the driving force behind his quest to seek a reliable means to time travel. And, as there was no other rendezvous in the whole of history that he desired more, he felt this had to be the wayward instance the Goddess had foreseen. He would make it so. For by the time he was reborn and grew old enough to remember his previous life as Gwion Bach, his beloved Creirwy would have departed this world. He had to see her one last time.
Neiryn had assured him that this particular winter Creirwy was alone at Llyn Tegid – except for full moon when Keridwen visited, and he must avoid her at all costs. This little sabbatical was the only window that would work for both himself and his subject, for technically, he was not incarnate at this time – and Neiryn could not guarantee he would find his lady alone any other year between now and the time of his rebirth.
It was still saddening to observe the lake without its island – he’d spent but one year of his life there and would give anything to go back – but his time as Gwion Bach had been and gone.
He did have other reasons for visiting this particular year – to investigate a theory of Neiryn’s that anger had prevented him from considering at the time it was imparted, and which another cohort of his had also insisted he consider. If the insight proved sound, it would concrete a plan that had been formulating for some centuries now. But these larger ambitions could wait. He had all the time in the world to change the course of Cymru history – this time with Creirwy would come but once.
The walls that surrounded the little cottage were taller now, and a large double iron gate had been installed. The small fortress, blanketed in white, appeared rather forbidding, but the gentle snowfall added a little magic to the chilly scene.
The sound of hooves thudding through the slush drew his attention to an old friend charging up the road towards him.
‘Moonlight,’ he uttered, delighted to see her again as she nuzzled him for attention, which he was glad to give. ‘Still surviving, hey girl.’ He hugged her about the neck, then stroked her muzzle, whereupon she bowed her head low and he rested his forehead against hers. They stood thus for some time – enjoying the warm jubilation they were both exuding within their reunion. He had a far greater understanding and appreciation for all creatures these days; they were kindred as much as any human.
‘Can I help you?’
The sound of her voice sent his entire being into an ecstatic state for a brief moment. ‘You recognise me, but will she?’ he whispered quietly to the horse before turning about to view her.
Gone was the vulnerable young waif of a girl and the frail, frightened, young mother. In their stead stood a warrior, dressed as a man and bearing the countenance to match, her long hair flying wildly on the breeze, catching snowflakes. She had a large axe in her hands and a dagger strapped to her thigh.
‘Hello, Creirwy.’ He smiled, unable to contain his delight.
‘Whoever you are,’ she frowned, wary, but the threat in her tone diminished a little, ‘that horse belongs to me.’
‘Moonlight was given to me by King Owain.’ His grin was irrepressible.
Creirwy appeared angered. ‘This horse belongs to Gwion Bach.’
‘I told you one day we would be free to be together. For you were never my curse, Creirwy, but you are still my world.’
The Lady gasped, hesitant to show her joy or to believe it at first, for it was impossible. ‘How could that be, if you are—’ She stopped herself from revealing the best kept secret of the age.
‘Gestating in the womb of the Goddess,’ he filled in the information she dare not mention.
Again she was rocked, allowing her elation to burst forth into her expression – there was the beauty he remembered. Creirwy dropped the axe, and looked closer. ‘Gwion?’ She near choked on the suggestion.
As she would not readily recognise this body he now wore, he assumed his old form, aged ten years. ‘It is no trick, Creirwy. It took
aeons to get back to you, and I must be gone before full moon. But still, I had to come. I promised—’
The Lady had sprinted towards him and into his arms before he could finish the sentence. Squeezing him tight, she buried her nose into his neck and breathed deep. ‘Oh, sweet mercies, it is you.’
Creirwy smothered his neck and face in kisses before their lips met, dispelling all the uncertainty he’d carried since conceiving of this tryst. Whatever the future cost, there was no price he would not pay to feel the solace of home, embodied in the soul now in his arms.
With the shutters locked closed to keep out the damp and cold, inside the cottage was dark and stuffy, yet cosy warm – there was a blaze in the hearth that Gwion would be proud of. The herbs hanging in bunches from the roof timbers smelled dry and the pungent, spicy aromas attacked his nostrils with a feast of fragrances, sweet and spicy, that rather reminded him of the smell of Keridwen’s sanctum.
Creirwy led him to the one comfortable chair and footstool by the fire and sat him down. ‘You must be freezing.’ She pulled off her gloves to rub his hands between hers, and was bewildered. ‘They are so warm, yet they are bare?’
‘The elements don’t bother me much any more.’
Creirwy swallowed – suspecting more than she was prepared to mention at the minute. ‘Are you hungry, thirsty?’ She sprang to her feet – he knew that she was excited to see him, but sensed her nervousness also.
‘Only for your company,’ he confessed. ‘That must sound forward after so long apart.’
‘No.’ She stopped fussing and came to kneel on the fur between his chair and the fire.
‘But you fear it is Gwyn ap Nudd playing tricks, or some other foe yet unknown to you.’
She nodded, yet he detected that deep down she actually believed something quite different, and her eyes shifted to the fire to save exposing herself.
‘What the Night Hunter fears is what will come to be.’
Her sights shot back in his direction, and she ventured a smile. ‘You are immortal. But how do you come to be in your own past?’
‘Your brother spoke to me once of a chariot among your mother’s treasures that would take you swiftly wherever you wish to go . . . or rather whenever you want to go.’
‘The Lightning Chariot.’ Creirwy’s grin was sceptical. ‘It has never worked.’
‘That is because I have the key.’ Her eyes parting wide made him laugh. ‘A crystal. That is the heart of the drive system.’
‘Show me,’ Creirwy challenged.
He held out his hand, palm up, allowing the copper-aluminium infused quartz crystal to manifest in his hand.
Creirwy appeared a little deflated when she saw the mishmash of metal, amber and quartz.
‘To the naked eye it doesn’t look like much, I’ll grant; it is not the prettiest of crystals. But this amazing little object defies the symmetrical rules that define crystals; it is ordered but not periodic. Instead of regularly repeating clusters, it contains several repeating clusters. It took two giant hunks of rock and ice colliding in space, and a plummet to earth to form it, making this one of the rarest natural structures on this earth in any age.’
Creirwy was grinning now. ‘And where did you get it?’ She went to take it from him, but he closed his hand and the item vanished.
‘That’s a very long story.’
‘I want to hear all your stories.’ Creirwy straddled his legs to sit in his lap and placed her hands behind his neck.
‘Tell me of you,’ he urged.
‘Oh gosh, where to begin?’ Clearly, she had much to tell, and he listened to her tales, the details of which he already knew, but it was a delight to hear her speak. It saddened him to hear of Morda’s bloody demise, but the old man had seen his lady through the most trying times of her life and would rest easy knowing that she continued to thrive. ‘Wait . . . you were born in the future, so this is all ancient history to you,’ she realised as she finished bringing him up to date.
‘You did amazingly well to survive Chiglas,’ he awarded.
‘I have Rufus to thank. I have a whistle only he can hear, but have not had cause to use it. And my pendant helped.’ She unlocked the torc and removed it.
‘Thank you, it is quite disturbing.’
Creirwy placed the piece aside, and he suddenly sensed an air of guilt about her.
‘Is there something you wish to tell me?’
‘I fear you already know.’ Creirwy rose to retreat from his lap, but he prevented it.
‘I know Chiglas got access to information only I knew.’ His sights trailed her roving eyes that finally met his own.
‘I had to know why you admired Owain so much . . . so I glamoured the details out of you. I was not to know my son could read minds! It was deceitful—’
‘It was predestined.’ He wasn’t here to grill her over past misdeeds. ‘Right now, I really don’t care about any events unfolding beyond the walls of this cottage.’ His exoneration returned the smile to her face. But not for long and she gasped. ‘But you are my brother now.’ She retreated to her seat on the fur once more.
‘Not in this form.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘But I really didn’t come here to be seduced, Creirwy; your company is enough.’
All the joy ran from her face. ‘I have aged horribly.’
He laughed at her silly assumption. ‘You are still the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth, but more than that, you and I, on a much higher level of awareness, are one being, forever co-joined. This is why we are so attracted to each other.’
Creirwy was tearing up. ‘How could you know that?’
‘I remember. Our name was Araqiel, and our mission here on earth is unique to that of any other living soul. For we are the only ones who know what it is to be Grigori, Nefilim and human.’
‘Grigori?’ This was a term she did not know. ‘But I am fully human now.’
‘But when you are born again in Ancient Egypt you will be immortal, and you too will remember all that I have.’
Creirwy was having difficulty wrapping her head around that. ‘If I was born long ago, where is my immortal self now?’
‘In space . . . dealing with your mother’s family issues, with brilliant rebel flair, no doubt. It is up to me to see if I can ignite humanity’s emotional revolution here on earth.’
‘Evolution, don’t you mean?’ Creirwy planted herself on his lap once more.
‘Both terms are equally fitting,’ he allowed, smiling warmly.
‘Are you not daunted?’ Creirwy gazed at him in utter awe.
‘I am not alone; there are other Grigori out there, in human form. The trouble is, only I remember our quest. So it is up to me to wake them up, and then send some of them on to you.’
‘So you met this immortal me?’ She invited him to share, but the less he imparted on that subject the better.
‘I did.’ He suppressed a grin, because he knew exactly where this was leading.
‘Did you fall for her?’
In all honesty he could reply, ‘Ours was a more cerebral union.’
Creirwy kissed him, passionately, to conclude with a lustful glint in her eyes, ‘I don’t believe you; there is more worldliness in your kiss, in your touch.’ She encouraged his wandering hands to explore, revelling in the human contact and their mutual pleasure.
‘There was only ever you, Creirwy.’ He unfastened her long leather vest to pull down her undershirt and plant his lips in her cleavage. Weaving her fingers through his hair, Creirwy held him close as he laid his ear against her chest to listen to her heart beating. ‘I have loved you for ten thousand years, and in all that time have known no greater bliss than I do in this moment.’
Creirwy kissed his crown, electrified by his caresses as she toyed with his hair. ‘I believe you’ll find the rapture of this day has scarce begun.’
This is how it could have been for them. Days and nights flying by virtually unheeded, bar the feeding of the livestock and chopping of wo
od, which he was currently doing wearing naught but a blanket tucked around his waist. The freezing ice stung his bare feet, the chilly wind beat against his exposed skin, yet neither could do him harm – he felt alive and in the moment.
Of the cycles of time he’d learned a great deal, but stretching time during the best experiences and speeding it up during the worst was something he’d yet to master. Every night the moon grew fuller and the day drew closer when they would have to part. The only way for him to realise their greater quest was to let go of his physical attachment to Creirwy, just as she had already managed to do in the past. She had evolved beyond personal desire, and had encouraged him to seek closure so that he might do likewise. Her immortality in another lifetime was not the only reason he could not alter Creirwy’s fate – her life was so closely entwined with Gwion’s that chances were the being he was now would never exist. His soul would continue in its endless karmic loop, oblivious to purpose. The universe had truly aligned in order to restore his eternal memory and the chances of that perfect series of catastrophic miracles ever happening again were very slim indeed. There was a concentration of Grigori souls being born at this time, and if he was going to unite them, the years just prior to this on the other side of the Eryri were the time and place – if the theory of his cohorts proved sound. So in a way, he was already prioritising the greater good over his own, by choosing this visit over the dream life with Creirwy he’d always wanted that was certainly well within his power to obtain. But as his lady had told him, right when they had first met, this was all a dream, and engaging as it was, he must wake up.
‘Hey!’
He turned to Creirwy – also swathed in a blanket and sensibly sporting his fur boots – as a snowball burst all over his face and bare torso.
His lady was possessed with laughter, until he dropped the axe and she turned to run inside. To her great shock and annoyance, Creirwy rose off the ground and found herself treading air.
‘Gwion!’ she protested, unable to escape.
‘Did you forget that I’ve learned a few new tricks in my travels?’ His intention to turn her about to face him was enough to make it so.
This Present Past Page 36
