‘Since Maelgwn married the daughter of Chiglas, there has been peace.’ Elphin emphasised there was nothing to fear. ‘We bring King Maelgwn many fine foods for his table . . . this meeting is meant to solidify peace throughout Gwynedd. For a lesser kingdom like ours, a closer association with a powerful kingdom will bring protection, thus we shall be honoured to be counted among the King of Gwynedd’s allies.’
Taliesin smiled to reassure the King, but folded his arms in silent protest. Lest between Chiglas and Maelgwn they swallow our prosperous little kingdom whole. He must remain very alert. After running wild with animals all his life, Taliesin was well familiar with the feeling of being stalked, and he’d felt thus since they’d crossed over the threshold of Meirion and into the Eryri and Gwynedd proper.
Upon their approach to Castell Degannwy, they saw wildlife fleeing from the town, and by the time they reached the castell not a single creature could be heard – even the town folk were quiet. The place felt oppressive. The fortress, high upon two hillocks, was shrouded in mist, adding to the sombre, ominous ambience – yet the rest of Cymru was in spring. Taliesin didn’t want to say it out loud, nor did any in their party, but it seemed as if the castell was cursed.
‘We should not proceed.’ Taliesin felt completely repelled by the place; their horses were spooked and resistant as well.
‘Unexpected bad weather happens, even in spring.’ Elphin felt the boy alarmist.
‘Begging your pardon, Majesty,’ the head of his guard spoke up for his men. ‘The boy is no fool, and beasts are never wrong when it comes to danger.’
‘I am the luckiest prince alive,’ Elphin reminded them, in an all too cocky fashion that had become his way lately. ‘It would be ill-advised to insult the king of a very powerful kingdom because our prize horses and soldiers were afraid of a few clouds. We are committed.’ Elphin ended the debate. ‘Move on.’
They passed through the crowded main street that cut through the township huddled within the walls of the outer bailey. At the inner bailey gatehouse, they were given leave by guards to pass into the courtyard, where the entrance to the King’s court could be found.
Taliesin was mesmerised by the sight of this place; it seemed familiar and gave him chills. Dreaming with his eyes wide open he saw snow falling, and felt suddenly heartbroken, like he’d lost someone dear. Was it a premonition?
‘Taliesin?’
A call from his king snapped him from his contemplation, and he looked to Elphin to find him dismounted and waiting to proceed inside. ‘Coming, Lord.’ He dismounted quickly, and joined the King’s party proceeding to Degannwy’s room of court.
As they moved through the great doors into the entrance hall with the large room of court beyond, Taliesin felt they were moving closer to the epicentre of the dread hanging over the kingdom. Upfront of their party, alongside King Elphin, Taliesin entered the room of court. It was filled with nobles on both sides, but ahead sat King Maelgwn and his queen, Vanora. A handsome couple to the eye, but their welcoming smiles were devoid of sincerity. Perhaps his eyes had not adjusted from the outside glare, but it seemed the King and his queen were shrouded in shadow.
Above the King, on a great huge plaque, hung the head of a dragon, and the sight broke Taliesin’s heart. The plaque bore no name for the creature and yet he knew it. ‘Rufus . . .’ He was halted in his tracks by the sight that caused tears to stream from his eyes.
‘You like my dragon, boy?’ Maelgwn queried, but Taliesin was dazed.
‘What an odd-looking child,’ said the Queen, sounding most disenchanted. ‘And rude!’
‘Answer the King.’ Taliesin was nudged by his own king.
‘You killed the dragon who aided your father to victory?’ He trembled as memories began to wash over him in tiny snippets.
‘I did,’ the King of Gwynedd was proud to claim. ‘And won the support of the south by doing so. The hardest part was getting the dragon to trust me to pull the stake from its side that my uncle had put there years before. But instead of pulling it out, I drove the stake deeper. The beast was something of a menace to the south; they were glad to be rid of it.’
‘Rufus only had an appetite for evildoers.’ Taliesin understood why King Maelgwn might have wanted the creature done away with.
‘How could you know the creature by name?’ one of the King’s older guards came forward to ask the lad.
As he beheld the face of the hardened warrior, Taliesin was shocked to glimpse the face of a boy he’d known. ‘Tiernan?’
‘Aye, my fame is well known, for I am the King’s champion.’ He grinned. ‘But who might you be?’
‘Who am I?’ Taliesin asked the question, which in that moment was a perplexing one, for he was remembering things from a life beyond the one he’d known in Elphin’s care. In his mind’s eye he recalled an explosion, and silver fish swimming in a ray of light. There was a beautiful woman, twirling around before him. I told you that you would adore it here.
‘Creirwy!’ Taliesin gasped, and without pause for thought, ran from the building.
‘Taliesin? Where are you going?’ Elphin called and in the same breath apologised to his host, who ordered guards to retrieve the lad.
All Taliesin could see was her face; he had to get to her. Into the crowded streets of the outer bailey he ploughed then, sprouting wings, he flew from the fortress, leaving behind his clothes and the guards scratching their heads.
The small courtyard at Llyn Tegid looked as tidy and well-kept as it ever did, and it gave Taliesin hope that Creirwy was still living and thriving. There were sheets drying on the line and he grabbed one to cover his nakedness, then moved to knock on the door. He was a little stunned and embarrassed when an old bard opened the door.
‘I am in search of the Lady Tegid, is she here?’
The old bard eyed him over, a smile wrinkling his old face as tears rimmed his eyes. ‘You’ve finally remembered who you are.’ The old fellow looked hard at him, and again his face was so familiar, but not so easy to place as the King’s champion. ‘My name is Neiryn.’
‘The keeper of the Ring . . .’ He could only recall meeting this man a couple of times.
‘I’ve been waiting a long time for you to return, Gwion Bach.’
‘Gwion,’ Taliesin uttered, at the same time recalling the woman he sought calling him by this name. ‘Yes . . . perhaps . . . I don’t know whence these memories come . . .’
‘Come inside, lad.’ The old man opened the door wide and stood aside. ‘I may be able to help you piece that together. Then we shall discuss a little favour I need from you.’
‘Sounds a fair trade.’ Taliesin wrapped himself better and entered the familiar abode.
‘I shall hunt you up some clothes.’ Neiryn shut the door behind them.
What a sheltered, idealistic existence he’d led up until now. Taliesin had barely known occasion to shed a tear. But the stories he was told that afternoon made him weep and grieve until his young person could take no more and he fell exhausted upon the bed.
In his dreams, the trials of his former life haunted him and Taliesin awoke even more grief-stricken than he’d been before he’d slept. Not wishing to wake the old bard with his whimpering, he rose and went outside. He was wearing an old robe Neiryn had supplied.
The crisp air of dawn was sweet with the scent of damp earth and wild things, and the still lake vista emanated such serenity that it felt disrespectful to have a care in its presence. Yet contemplating his beloved at the mercy of Chiglas and Cadfer overwhelmed him with despair. Taliesin had fancied himself in love with Elphin’s daughter, Melanghel, but those feelings paled into insignificance against the fervour coursing through his veins right now. He would never see Creirwy again, their time together would never be – comprehending this was soul-destroying and made everything Taliesin held so dear and felt of import evanesce into insignificance. According to Neiryn, the murder had taken place in the outer chamber to the library, which Chiglas had demanded acc
ess to. Taliesin’s gaze shifted to the crawl space across the courtyard, and his person quickly followed.
Inside the annex he returned to standing and reached for the tree root.
You were doubting my word for a moment there. The impression of Morvran filled his perception and made Taliesin smile, and then weep – Gwion had never been given time to grieve the loved ones he’d lost here.
As the huge stone plinth slid aside, he entered the blue-lit outer chamber, wiping the excess of tears from his eyes so that he might see his way down the stairs clearly. Upon reaching the bottom, all appeared as it ever did; there was no sign of the tragedy that had unfolded here.
‘Hello, Luna.’ Taliesin approached the liquid light feature. ‘Do you remember me, I wonder?’
Taliesin was the only one who knew about his shapeshifting ability, yet he had only ever shifted into animal forms, never into that of another human as that seemed rather immoral and dangerous. Yet in this instance it could be just the ticket. He searched his new memories for a recollection of seeing himself in his former life.
A memory of the star chamber he’d created within Castell Tegid proper brought a smile back to his face – what wondrous days those had been. Gwion was standing before a large looking glass, wearing a new outfit of clothes. Taliesin held this vision firmly in mind and shifted form.
He looked over his hands, more rugged and worn, his body was more stout and had a few aches and pains, but it was light and lean. ‘So far, so good.’ He stepped onto Luna’s stream and her light pooled at his bare feet. He looked up at the wall in anticipation of it vanishing, but no such thing occurred. ‘Disappointing.’
Had Keridwen, in her rage, locked Gwion out?
Taliesin resumed his own form to alight the psychedelic walkway, and the security wall vanished. Odd? If Luna didn’t acknowledge Gwion’s access, why did it acknowledge Taliesin’s – he’d never been cleared for access by any of the family Tegid.
He followed the light stream within and as the chamber lit up, he felt like he’d truly come home.
A glance around evidenced that the sacred treasure trove had been raided, but surprisingly most of the Otherworldly treasure had not been taken, only things that were obviously worth money, like jewels and weaponry. To his great relief all the texts lay as they were. I shall need to find a safer storehouse for these, and all the treasure within. On a shelf nearby he spotted a scroll that had belonged to Gwion. Taliesin reached for it and unfurled it to view – it was the deed to Llyn Cerrig on Mon that King Owain had bequeathed Gwion. This place was no longer secure, so perhaps there was a secure hiding place for the treasures there? If memory served, he’d never had the chance to visit his own land, nor set foot on Mon.
Upon replacing the scroll, he took a stroll up the winding mezzanine, doing a stocktake in his mind of what was missing. But when his eyes met with the empty case that had contained the book Gwion had been told never to touch, he knew at once. That was what they came for. What the text pertained to was a mystery, but he knew it was pure evil as were those who had sought it.
‘I was hoping you had access,’ Neiryn called up from the door. ‘I followed the Great Mother in here once, but was never officially granted entry.’
‘To have entry is to make you a key, which would place your life in danger as it did Creirwy’s.’ Taliesin motioned to the cabinet. ‘This text—’
‘Is the one Creirwy was killed for,’ Neiryn affirmed. ‘Keridwen said as much.’
Taliesin cast his mind back to observing the book; how he wished he’d read it. When it manifested in his hands, he startled himself, and juggled it about to prevent dropping it! ‘Whoa!’ He’d not been able to do such things since frequenting the Goddess’s castle in the etheric realm, and this room was not part of that unique structure.
‘Is that it? You pulled it out of thin air, just like that?’ Neiryn was awestruck – for only the Gods were capable of such things.
‘I’ve never done anything of the like before.’ Taliesin grinned at his own achievement, looking over the archaic collection of bound, locked text.
‘You are your mother’s son,’ Neiryn affirmed proudly.
There was a huge void in Taliesin’s memory between Gwion’s death in the sanctum and being found by Elphin in the weir. ‘My mother?’
The old man was taken aback by his response. ‘Do you not remember how you transformed from Gwion to Taliesin?’
Taliesin shrugged. ‘I assume I died in the sanctum explosion, and have been born over.’
‘You don’t remember anything after the explosion?’ Neiryn ventured uncomfortably.
‘If you know something of my origins, old bard, I urge you speak it.’ Taliesin thundered his way back down to Neiryn. ‘You knew my mother.’ That much was clear.
‘You knew your mother,’ he stammered.
Taliesin frowned, annoyed. ‘This is no time for riddles.’
‘Keridwen,’ Neiryn prompted.
‘How could the Mistress have become pregnant with . . .’ Taliesin’s perception shifted inward and he saw himself bounding as a hare, swimming as a fish, flying like a bird, and then. ‘Swallowed as a seed,’ he uttered, dropping the book. ‘Gwion ran from Keridwen in fear for his life. She was furious with me . . .’ He relayed what he remembered to Neiryn. ‘So why then give me life?’ He sat in shock, puzzlement, and weary of having his perception of the world, and his life, spun around.
‘What if . . .’ Neiryn ventured to share what he suspected, ‘Keridwen sacrificed all her worldly happiness just to bring you into being, right under the Night Hunter’s nose. The Lord may have thought he was controlling her, but she may have been playing him all along.’
‘Gwyn ap Nudd.’ He was the game master behind all of this mayhem. Why Taliesin thought so was still a little hazy, but he felt Gwion’s resentment towards the Lord of the Otherworld. Another realisation prickled his being and overwhelmed all others: he was the son of a goddess! He had Fey blood in his veins. This explained why he could shapeshift and others could not; how the book he desired had just manifested in his hand! What else might he be capable of? He brought to mind again that vision before the mirror in his new clothes, whereby his old robe was replaced by the outfit he envisioned. ‘Praise the universe, no more having to track down my clothes after shifting.’
Neiryn, startled by the lad’s change in attire, queried warily, ‘Shifting?’ Taliesin waved the comment off as irrelevant. Neiryn retrieved the book from the floor and put it down on a desk with a thud – due to its metal bindings it was quite weighty. ‘You did not answer my query. Is this the book Chiglas and Cadfer stole from here?’
‘This is it, right enough. But whether it is the original, a copy, or a figment of past memory, I know not.’ Gwion had studied in this library and he knew something of mysticism, even though he’d not read this text in particular. ‘If this was the volume stolen from here twenty years earlier, the evil is not attached to the book itself, and can be summoned at will by anyone with a good memory or a good scribe.’
‘You think there could be copies?’ The old man turned pale.
‘Two kings like Chiglas and Cadfer would never trust the other with such a volume; there will be at least one copy out there, to be sure.’ Taliesin rose and approached the desk. ‘But whatever evil entity these kings conjured with this text may have shifted allegiances more than once.’
‘I believe so too,’ Neiryn agreed.
Taliesin placed his hands on the book and its metal bindings unlocked.
‘You don’t mean to read it?’ Neiryn cautioned the lad. ‘To do so is to risk exposure to the same blight as the kings who stole it.’
‘Know thy enemy.’ Taliesin was not at all afraid. ‘If the way to conjure the entity is within, then the way to dismiss it is also. Fear not, old friend, I shall skip over any summons; it is the fine print we are interested in.’
Neiryn did not appear very reassured, perhaps due to Taliesin’s youthful appearance. ‘I shall fe
tch wine.’
‘No need.’ Taliesin reached out to a nearby horn, his eyes not leaving the pages he was scanning. ‘Wine,’ he said, and passed it to Neiryn.
Neiryn sipped the lad’s offering and finding it very pleasing, drank large gulps. ‘I feared I’d be too old by the time you returned, adventure is for the young.’
‘I see,’ said Taliesin, remarking on his reading rather than Neiryn’s banter, and turned the page, engrossed. ‘This is a very sad tale,’ he breathed a heavy sigh. ‘I understand this entity’s need for self-preservation.’
‘You feel sorry for it?’ Neiryn was perplexed and a little wary that the lad was being infected. ‘It has oppressed our people under greedy, heartless rulers, and trapped my novice in a tree.’
‘Pardon?’ Taliesin’s attention was diverted from his reading to the old bard.
‘Myrddin, my novice, went missing at the battle that ended King Owain’s rule. He was something of a prophet—’
‘Myrddin . . . was he not the boy who foretold Gwtheyrn’s downfall?’ Gwion had heard of this legend from Neiryn’s old mentor, Talhaiarn.
‘Indeed. Keridwen said he’d been trapped in a tree by the entity of whom we speak, but that you would know how to retrieve him.’
‘I do,’ Taliesin concurred. ‘We shall see to it presently.’ He looked back to his reading. ‘But first I must understand what is really unfolding at Castell Degannwy, if we are to have any chance of combating it. I fear my king is in great peril.’
‘Why didn’t you say so sooner?’ Neiryn panicked. ‘I would not have let you slumber through your delirium so long.’
‘How long?’
‘You’ve been asleep for days!’
‘Days!’ A heated panic rose in Taliesin, but with stoic determination he combated the impulse to run to their aid ill-informed.
Fate had not brought him here to grieve his lost life as Gwion Bach, even though he felt that loss deeply. Those he called kin now were in peril and this dark account before him contained the key to dismissing the curse that had been left to run rampant through the kings of the Cymry.
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