‘If the dragon threatens our plans then we are not free, are we?’ He grinned, clearly not bothered in the least.
All eyes were glued to the sky as the dragon circled round over the lake; the catapult fired, the iron rod arced and struck its target in the ribcage. The creature screeched in pain, spewing fire as he struggled to stay airborne.
‘Yes!’ Cadfer cheered, ecstatic, and Chiglas grunted in approval as well. ‘Re-load!’
‘Rufus, retreat!’ Creirwy screamed with all the might she could muster, and was belted so hard she fell to the ground.
But her warning echoed around the valley and the dragon turned about and flew south.
‘And don’t come back!’ the men were cheering.
‘Damn it! Keep watch. It may yet return.’ Cadfer, clearly agitated that they hadn’t killed it, grabbed hold of Creirwy’s hair and wrenched her off the ground. ‘Let’s go!’
At the liquid light pool in the outer chamber of the library, Cadfer was handed the lad as Chiglas wrenched Creirwy onto the light stream, remaining clear of the strange phenomenon himself. Grant me entry or we break the piglet’s neck.
‘Let him go first,’ she challenged, and Chiglas slapped her face so hard she hit the floor.
This is not a negotiation. Chiglas looked to Cadfer and gave him the nod.
‘Kill him and you’ll never get in.’ Her warning stayed Cadfer’s hand as Creirwy stood and spat blood aside, unfazed – her eyes burning with determination. ‘Let him go.’
‘Where’s he going to go?’ Cadfer reasoned, putting the kid down. ‘I’m all for getting on with this.’
The lad began pulling against the bastard king’s grip in a bid to be free of him.
Fine, have it your way, you die first. Chiglas looked to Cadfer to give a slight nod, whereupon the child was released and ran to hide in a small space under the spiral stairs.
Creirwy gave a huge sigh of relief; the opening of the library would be the perfect distraction for Neiryn to get her babe away. Luna was a sentient being and would sense Creirwy’s need to open the library to her foe; her boy’s life took precedence over any of the trinkets or knowledge that lay within. ‘Stand on the stream,’ she instructed her firstborn.
Chiglas was wary, but did as instructed.
The light pooled at his feet and the wall before them vanished. ‘You win this round.’
That was never in doubt. Chiglas clicked his fingers towards Cadfer – requesting he hand over the Blade of Swiftness he had holstered.
Cadfer was not keen to hand over his treasure. ‘Shouldn’t we keep her alive to tell us what is what?’ He drew the blade and was admiring it.
I already know what is what as well as my grandmother does. Chiglas snatched the knife. Never misses its mark. He turned and sliced the blade in Creirwy’s direction. She felt it drag across her throat, but it did not break skin.
‘It will only cut for a righteous soul.’ Creirwy grinned. ‘Most of the treasures herein are the same and will be useless to you both.’
There is one treasure within that is not so inclined.
Creirwy’s nose began to bleed like never before, the pressure in her head forcing her to her knees before she keeled over and hit the floor.
I even know how to open the case.
The Key of Electra. The thought would be her last in this life as the pressure in her head became so intense it caused her perception to blur.
‘Where did the kid go?’ she heard Cadfer say, before warm liquid flooded her ears and there was silence.
Neiryn had him – her beautiful son and his most beloved father were safe.
She stopped struggling against the pain and let go, whereupon it intensified and then washed away like a wave and left her in peace. Her consciousness filled with light and within the brilliance she perceived the most divine being. ‘Araqiel . . .’ Her heart stopped, but her spirit filled with the joy that came with forgetting her earthly woes. Creirwy departed this world with a smile upon her lips.
The ancient library was raided within hours and Cadfer took the torc from around Creirwy’s neck as a memento. Chiglas insisted they were not leaving without the boy, but when they failed to locate him by noon the next day, they were forced to reconsider their position.
‘There is no way he is another of Owain’s bastards . . . my brother cannot even get his own queen with child. It’s more likely he’s the bastard of the King’s chief bard and no threat to your throne.’ Cadfer was getting testy and nervous as Chiglas grunted a response. ‘Well, I told you not to plan this so close to full moon. Just so that old witch would find your fresh kill . . . a decaying corpse is just as gruesome! More so!’
Chiglas snarled at his ally.
Cadfer winced and his nose began to bleed. ‘Steady on!’ He wiped the blood away and sought to humour him. ‘I am just saying . . . despite that Gwyn ap Nudd has the witch on a leash, you cannot be sure she won’t kill us just to spite him now that she has nothing to lose. We need to get out of here with our spoils, now! The boy has no effect on our plan, forget him.’
Chiglas growled, snarled and wailed through a mini tantrum, but having dispersed his angst, he gave in and departed.
Once all sight and sound of them were gone, Neiryn moved into the cottage to lay the boy on the bed.
As they’d witnessed the blood drain from Creirwy’s nose, eyes, ears and mouth, the lad had become a dead weight in his arms and had been passed out ever since. This was for the best as their foe had been unable to frighten him into giving his position away.
However, Neiryn had been carrying around the lad’s dead weight for half the night and day, so laying him down was a great physical relief. The boy began to stir once he had nothing to cling to, but his mother’s pillow proved a suitable comforter. Once the Ring of Invisibility was placed on the lad’s finger, he vanished from sight.
Neiryn only had to turn his eyes towards the entrance, across the courtyard to the secret library, and the dread of seeing his lady dead made his eyes well with tears yet again. She would never know how much he had adored and admired her; perhaps it was even love on his behalf, though he knew her heart would never desire him in such a way. But beyond such trifles they had been dear friends; family. It would have been easy to collapse into a state of mourning, but he refused to allow his patron goddess to arrive here to find her daughter’s slain body in a pool of blood. Not if he could help it – and he could.
By the time the plinth that led from the outside annex into the outer chamber of the library opened above him, Creirwy’s face was washed clean of blood. Her body was entwined in sheets, covering the dried blood on her clothes and in her hair.
There was no rush in Keridwen’s descent – this was not someone who was desperately seeking the whereabouts of a loved one, but rather someone dreading to find what was expected.
Neiryn stood to address her as she rounded the corner on her final descent.
He’d heard his king describe the old crone, but Keridwen had always appeared barely older than her daughter to him, and unnaturally beautiful. But he knew the Fey could change form to suit their purpose, and in this instance of being with child, a younger human form was preferable to that of an old woman.
‘Mistress, I—’
She held up a hand, sorrowful as her eyes met with the sight of her daughter. ‘I am most grateful for this diligence.’ Her eyes shifted to the open library doors and then she approached to look within. Cases were smashed, texts shredded, and many of the treasures had been stolen.
‘I’m so very sorry, Mistress.’ He followed her inside, fit to weep himself.
With a wave of her hand, everything that was broken or in disarray, repaired and returned to its place.
Keridwen glanced around to inspect what objects were missing. ‘Don’t be sorry, many of these treasures are cursed, and will not serve them well in the long run.’ She vanished from before him and reappeared up on the second mezzanine level. ‘That is what this was about.’ She di
sappeared and reappeared at several spots in the library, before she appeared before him.
‘They have the text to summon a very evil entity, and they’ve also taken the sword of the traitor, Gwtheyrn, and several other tools they will need to summon it forth.’
The implements to be used for this evil rite were all required to have served a dark purpose in the past. The sword must have drawn human blood, the stone must have been used for dark ritual or purpose, the cauldron must have boiled the blood of the living, the wand must be crafted from a twig of a branch used to burn a living thing to death.
‘Dear heavens!’ Neiryn felt their foe were already evil enough.
‘My nephew must be out of his mind to allow this to happen! Seeking to teach me a lesson is one thing, but this is quite something else. He’ll never achieve his desire now, he must know that. He is washing his hands of the whole affair and just leaving events to snowball.’
She’d never mentioned a nephew before, so Neiryn found her rambling puzzling. ‘Can I help, Mistress?’
Keridwen shook her head. ‘You saved the most precious treasure. Your devotion to my family, Neiryn, is more greatly appreciated than you will ever know. But you must go now.’
‘The boy—’
‘I will worry about my grandchild,’ she stated adamantly. ‘You must forget him. And should you meet at some future time, be as strangers, for his own sake.’
‘I can—’
‘I know . . .’ Keridwen was emotionally drained, and short on patience. ‘But even if people assume he is your child, Chiglas will still know he is kin. If the lad goes with you, you may as well pin a target on his back.’
The event was crushing to Neiryn. He’d never dreamed he’d be forced to give the child up; yet the logic of the move was clearly evident. Still, he had fears. ‘But you are here but one day a month, how—’
‘Clearly, he cannot stay here,’ Keridwen assured him that was not her intention. ‘I shall see him to a safe place within Cymry borders.’
‘And what of your child, Mistress?’ He’d never had the courage to ask about her pregnancy before now.
‘I shall not be keeping it,’ she replied coolly. ‘I must return to the Otherworld permanently once it is born.’
‘It would be my honour to see you through that birth,’ Neiryn proffered. ‘As I did your daughter.’
‘I am immortal,’ Keridwen declined. ‘I shall survive.’
‘But the child—’
‘Neiryn.’ She grew agitated. ‘If you want a child so badly, I suggest you have one of your own. Or take a new novice.’
‘I have a novice already . . . you might remember the young boy who predicted the fall of Gwtheyrn?’
‘Ah yes, a wild wee thing from Carmarthen . . . Myrddin. There is Fey in that one, though he is not one of mine.’ The lad was Grigori too, most likely, only the Gods knew who had seeded him. It was said Myrddin had no earthly father, which meant one of her male relatives had been breeding with the daughters of men – perhaps the Night Hunter himself?
‘He is now a young man and shows great promise as a bard and prophet. So it is not my want of a pupil that compels me in this case, but a calling to be a guardian to these unique souls, Mistress.’
‘You must trust that there is a divine plan to these strange times, why else would they be so?’
‘I shall do as you say, Mistress.’ Neiryn accepted her ruling with a heavy heart. ‘And shall depart.’
‘Take the ring,’ she instructed. ‘You’ll be needing it if you are to survive what lies ahead.’
‘Mistress?’ He waylaid to see if she would expand on the caution.
‘Soon rumours will spread about your king. They will say he has lost my favour and his Otherworldly support. They may accuse Queen Ganhumara of having an affair with the King’s champion—’
‘Gilmore . . .’ Neiryn could not imagine that someone so devoted to his king would do such a thing? Unless . . . the King himself consented in desperation to have an heir, apart from Chiglas.
‘They will declare our king a traitor for allowing Hengist to walk away from the field at Baddon in exchange for the peace Cadfer and Chiglas are about to destroy.’
‘Lies!’ Neiryn rejected it all.
‘I’m afraid, dear Neiryn, it is all true.’
He was shaken to his core.
‘I can no longer support him; my hands have been tied by the Night Hunter. Owain is desperate for an heir, and despite how it looks to the Sons of the Long Knives, our king made the right decision at Baddon. He freed his people, but it will cost him his kingdom.’
Neiryn grew angry and disillusioned. ‘No wonder you don’t want your grandchild accompanying me back to Powys.’
‘This will be no surprise to the King; he’s been expecting recompense since his victory, and Creirwy held it off so long as she was able.’ Keridwen wandered back into the outer chamber to observe her daughter’s remains. ‘Go. Report what has happened here.’
‘As you wish, Mistress.’ He made it to the first step, and turned back once more. ‘I have to ask—’
‘You wish to know when Gwion will return.’ Keridwen rubbed her swollen belly for the first time that he could recall.
A strange notion crept into his head – for it occurred to him that the Goddess had reportedly been pregnant for about as long as Gwion had been missing. But the notion was too absurd. ‘No.’
‘Yes.’ Clearly, she was following his train of thought.
‘But how could he—’
‘Shhh—’ She urged him not to think out loud.
Who did she fear hearing them? How could your child be our lad’s father? Unless . . .
Keridwen raised both brows in anticipation of an answer.
Gwion has found a way to move through time.
Keridwen only smiled. This complicates your situation . . . he must not find out about the boy.
Neiryn had to wonder if her request was a way of getting revenge on Gwion for the loss of her own son. Lex talionis.
An eye for an eye, she considered his implication, appearing insulted. Do you really think me so shallow? Stretch your mind a little wider.
It could jeopardise his own future existence.
I always knew you were a smart one.
This was all very puzzling to Neiryn. Creirwy had told him once in confidence that her mother planned to kill the babe she was carrying upon its birth, at the Night Hunter’s request. Hence why he had made his earlier offer to assist with the birth, in the hope of changing her mind. It suddenly dawned on him who Keridwen feared hearing them talk about her child – it was the King of the Otherworld. Perhaps, she didn’t need persuading? Perhaps, she never truly planned to kill the child at all?
She smiled. ‘Things being as they are, you already know the truth.’
Creirwy had also said that he would give guidance to Gwion in the future, but that Gwion would wear a different persona that was younger. ‘When are you due?’
‘Many years yet.’ She was obviously not going to be specific. ‘You’ve always had great faith in us, Neiryn, don’t stop now.’
Still, Neiryn was overwhelmed to learn the birth was still so far away, and then the child had to grow. ‘It will all be over for Owain by then. I will be old, if I survive it. But then, I must.’ He held his head, it was throbbing, from lack of sleep, shock and distress.
‘What will be, will be, but there is more going on here than either of us understand,’ she admitted. ‘I see little point in trying to comprehend the unfathomable, until more information comes to light.’
Neiryn nodded, mind-weary and ready to drop. Keridwen approached to place a hand upon his shoulder, and he felt all the pain and woe rush from his being and his vitality return. ‘Thank you, Mistress, for all the favour you have shown me. I’ll be on my way as soon as I say my goodbyes to the lad.’
‘Better you leave him sleep,’ she requested. ‘By the time he wakes, I will ensure he remembers nothing of these sad events.’
Neiryn had mixed feelings about that. ‘He will not remember anything of me?’
The Goddess appeared to feel his loss. ‘There will always be a little of you resounding from his harp.’
It was pleasing to him to know that at least his lessons would not be lost. ‘Fair thee well, Mistress.’ With a bow, he turned about and scaled the stairs towards a future far more forbidding and mysterious than he’d imagined. Creirwy, at least, had attributed many of her family woes to the Night Hunter, and there had certainly been no love lost when they parted ways. Was this why the Goddess was refusing to give him the birth date of her child, to avoid him getting involved in a Fey family dispute? But he had faith that their current suffering would not be in vain. He had an inkling that the child his patron carried was a secret weapon that Keridwen planned to aim at Gwyn ap Nudd.
Caswallon sat alone in his room of court, his most recent conversation with his younger sibling playing over in his mind. His head and heart were in conflict – the rest of him was stunned with disbelief, inclining towards total denial and getting drunk. Cadfer was a troublemaker, and although his current mischief was aimed at their King, it was not Owain’s wife that Cadfer coveted.
‘Caswallon.’
The unexpected company startled him, and he looked up to find a beautiful woman, quite pregnant, and a fair young child who was carrying a small harp. ‘How did you get in here?’ He raised himself to call for a guard.
‘You swore allegiance to me the night I destroyed Cair Guothergirn.’
Caswallon’s eyes parted wide, and then closed to scrutinise her. ‘I pledged alliance to an old crone.’
‘I can shift form if you like,’ she offered. ‘But I understand that of all the sons of Gwynedd you are the most uncomfortable with such phenomena.’
Caswallon didn’t believe a word of it. ‘Without such proof, how can I be sure you are who you claim?’
The Lady transformed before his eyes into the witch who still haunted his memories.
‘We had no business making such oaths.’ He sat down, trepidatious, for he knew to be unbound from such an oath would cost him personally in some regard.
This Present Past Page 39
