Chronicle of Ages

by Traci Harding

  ‘Ahah!’ Tory cheered. ‘He mastered physical teleportation!’ She shook her head, amazed. ‘I do wish Taliesin would teach me that art … I may have learnt how to ride a horse, but I have yet to enjoy it.’ She sighed. Riding to Llyn Cerrig Bach was not really what she had planned for today.

  ‘Buck up.’ Maelgwn nudged her shoulder with his. ‘At least thou dost not have to ride to Gwent.’

  Tory wasn’t entirely sure of that. ‘If I fail to find the High Merlin, I will.’

  ‘Thou shalt not fail.’ Maelgwn kissed her forehead. ‘Taliesin will always come to thy aid.’

  We can only hope, she thought on the quiet. For if the High Merlin was of the mind to be elusive, Tory doubted the Goddess herself could find him.

  Once he’d seen Tory, Selwyn and the soldier depart, Maelgwn went down onto the beach at Aberffraw, of the mind to seek the services of his dragon, Rufus. Besides one lone fisherman the beach was deserted, and even that soul was so far in the distance that he could barely be seen.

  Usually when Maelgwn required the aid of his otherworldly affiliate he would have to enter the etheric realms to make contact with the creature. But today the King did not have the time to go seeking a doorway to the Otherworld, and the services of a merlin to oversee his journey into the ethers.

  Maelgwn took a few moments to calm and focus his mind before summoning forth the dragon into the Middle Kingdoms of this physical plane of existence.

  Rufus, old friend, I have great need of thee. Maelgwn projected his thoughts into the inner-space of his being. Once again the peace and prosperity of the Goddess’ lands art being threatened. I beg thee to speed me on my quest to avert this calamity, in the name of my forefathers and the great houses Don and Llyr!

  At once a great mist began to rise off the water as the ocean itself appeared to billow and boil. From out of the waves, the great head of the creature emerged to address the King. The lone fisherman fled.

  One does not usually do house calls, Dragon, Rufus bethought his tiny human charge.

  ‘I am most grateful for thy pains,’ Maelgwn assured. ‘I am in need of a flight of passage to Gwent Is Coed.’

  Straight into a war zone. That figures, commented the dragon in a huff.

  ‘What dost thou know of it?’ Maelgwn quizzed.

  Gwyn ap Nudd hast shrouded a large area of Gwent in mist, advised Rufus. Heaven help any human who wanders into his stronghold for they shall never find their way out.

  ‘It be Gwyn ap Nudd himself that we must appease?’ Maelgwn questioned, a little daunted by the notion.

  Gwyn ap Nudd was the Lord of the dark hours, the King of the Tylwyth Teg, a formidable warrior and a stealthy hunter. It was said he had legions of deceased warlords at his disposal, an army of the very finest warriors to ever walk the face of Briton.

  ‘Wonderful,’ whined Maelgwn, as Rufus nodded to affirm his claim.

  Maelgwn’s first concern was for Selwyn, who was probably already lost in the otherworldly mists. Still, the young Druid did amaze him every subsequent visit with his comprehension and practice of the sacred mysteries. Better that he had sent Selwyn than any of his subjects, as the young bard’s innocence and sense of childlike wonder would, without doubt, be the best defence when travelling through the regions of Gwyn ap Nudd.

  So then, Dragon. What be one’s enticement to accompany thee on this fools crusade? Rufus cut straight through the small talk to get down to the serious negotiations.

  Maelgwn scratched his head. ‘I had not given thy payment any thought.’

  Never do, said the dragon.

  ‘Well, what would thee like?’ The King hoped the dragon had eaten already, as he had a taste for grievous human criminals and Gwynedd’s jails were not host to any at present.

  O-oh … let one think. Rufus emerged from the water to lay on the sand and contemplate his price. What dost one desire most?

  The dragon leant his head on his claw and tapped his talons against his hard scaly cheek as he was wafted away on a flight of fancy. Maelgwn began to lose patience. ‘I know where thou art from there be no such thing as time, but here it be rather a pressing concern. Could we possibly speed this along?’

  Well, there art precious few things thee can give one that one cannot acquire on one’s own, the creature informed in a leading manner.

  ‘There must be something!’

  The King was starting to get desperate and Rufus knew it. Well, there be one thing …

  ‘Then I implore thee to name it,’ Maelgwn urged.

  The dragon fixed his eyes firmly on his charge. My freedom. Release me from my charge of thee, so that I am never again obliged to enter the Middle Kingdoms.

  Maelgwn was taken aback and saddened by the dragon’s price. ‘But I would miss thee, Rufus.’

  Then come visit one in the comfort of one’s etheric home. The King still seemed reluctant to part with the dragon’s services, which the creature had been ordered to provide his earthly charge by Keridwen. Rufus had got into the habit of bargaining with Maelgwn for his services, because the young King had once made the mistake of rewarding the dragon. On every escapade after that, Rufus expected an incentive. Maelgwn usually found it more convenient to bend to Rufus’ demands than to disturb the great Goddess. What’s more, the beast could make any quest as comfortable or treacherous as suited his whim — Maelgwn had found it paid to ensure the dragon was appeased. Rufus had finally found himself a way out of the punishment incurred by his terrorising the people of Dumnonia for a time.

  One shall still watch over thee, Dragon, grant thee one’s virtues and award thee protection when travelling the ethers. Rufus crawled a little closer to Maelgwn, to get more intimate with him. One’s youth has fled, and exposure to the physical plane only speeds the ageing process and makes one’s aches and pains all the more obvious. Please, release one from this drudgery.

  Maelgwn had to feel sorry for the beast, forever having to run to his rescue, and so agreed to Rufus’ price. ‘Take me to Gwent, Rufus, and I shall release thee from all thy physical plane obligations.’

  One shall never ask for anything more. Rufus rose to take his last flight in the Middle Kingdoms of the physical world.

  Tory arrived at Llyn Cerrig Bach to find Taliesin seated on the stairs of the temple ruins, which housed the gateway to his otherworldly abode.

  His long, fine, silvery-white hair fell loose around his shoulders and sparkled in the dappled sunlight, as did the two long strands of his oriental-style moustache. A gentle smile graced the features of his youthful face; he appeared calm and contented, as always.

  Annoyed, Tory dismounted from her horse. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Waiting for you,’ Taliesin replied in modern English, which he always employed when he and Tory were alone.

  ‘Well, you could have come to Aberffraw and saved me the ride.’ Tory came to stand before the Merlin, her hands perched on her hips.

  ‘I need your undivided attention, so it’s best that you are removed from the interruptions of your position.’

  ‘In that case, why didn’t you come get me?’ Tory seated herself beside him. ‘You know how I detest riding.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just will yourself here.’ Taliesin held up both hands in question. ‘You are perfectly able.’

  Tory served the Merlin a sceptical look.

  ‘Have you ever seriously tried it?’ he challenged.

  Tory couldn’t say that she had.

  ‘Unlike poor Selwyn, who has had to strive to refine and purify his spirit in order to achieve the feat of physical teleportation, the molecular structure of your body is entirely subject to your will, which is part and parcel of being one of the Chosen. The part of your being that is made up of etheric substance is now mature enough to understand and comply with your wishes. You already control your own molecules, to a degree, by projecting the outward illusion that you are aging, even though you are not. Teleportation is no harder to master, only harder in your mind. Just try
it if you don’t believe me.’

  Tory could see through his ploy. As usual, Taliesin was just trying to avoid the subject. ‘I want to know what Conan is up to in Gwent. Does he plan to attack Dyfed?’

  ‘He might,’ Taliesin shrugged, ‘if the mood takes him.’

  Tory groaned, not prepared to match wits with the Merlin. ‘For heavens’ sake, Taliesin. For once, will you please just say what you mean!’

  ‘Conan is toying with us,’ he stated plainly, ‘and in more ways than even he realises.’

  ‘The contention he has caused with the Tylwyth Teg, you mean?’

  Taliesin nodded. ‘The thing about the Tylwyth Teg is that they belong to an evolution quite distinct from our own. Their only connection with human beings is that we temporarily occupy the same planet. Usually the folk choose to ignore humankind altogether. The constant rush of astral currents set up by our restless and erratic desires disturb and annoy them. To establish any kind of a favourable acquaintance with the Tylwyth Teg, one must be free of the human practices they detest, like eating meat, taking intoxicating substances and general uncleanliness. The emotions of lust, anger, jealousy, greed and depression are also disagreeable to them, although some of the folk exhibit these traits themselves. Still, high and pure feelings that flow constant, without wild surges, create an atmosphere which will always attract the spirits of nature.’

  ‘So we did the right thing in sending Selwyn to make contact with them?’

  ‘Well, Selwyn should fare well with the folk, but unfortunately their leader, Gwyn ap Nudd, is not a nature spirit — he is one of the Goddess’ ilk. If he has felt compelled to punch a hole through the ethers into this physical plane in order to occupy and protect one of the sites sacred to the Tylwyth Teg, chances are that the Lord of the Night is not going to be in any mood to be reasonable.’

  ‘Is Selwyn in danger?’

  Taliesin frowned. ‘The entities under Gwyn ap Nudd’s charge cannot dominate a human’s will, unless the subject is very weak-minded or fearful, yet they are capable of deceiving a human’s senses with their glamour.’

  Tory didn’t really understand the term ‘glamour’. ‘Do you mean they can cause hallucinations?’

  ‘The often mischievous little creatures delight in deceiving all of man’s seven senses.’

  In addition to taste, touch, smell, sight and hearing, the Briton’s considered speech and instinct to be senses also.

  The Merlin cocked an eye to advise: ‘Those among the Tylwyth Teg that we might perceive as female are particularly good at it.’

  Tory found herself grinning. ‘Surely Selwyn would not be susceptible to their charms?’

  Now both Taliesin’s brows were raised. ‘Every man has his limits, Tory, and the folk’s telepathic skills ensure that they know what those limits are. If you think women of the physical plane are attractive, an etheric world beauty can appear ten times so.’

  Tory’s grin broadened. ‘You have been seduced by such an entity,’ she more stated than asked.

  A huge smile crossed Taliesin’s face, and he shrugged in a non-committal fashion. ‘That’s the other thing about wandering into the dominions of the Tylwyth Teg. One only remembers as much as they see fit … a fragment here, a moment there.’

  The Merlin shrugged again and as he was obviously not going to comment further, Tory jumped back to the subject at hand. ‘What did you mean when you said Conan was toying with us?’

  ‘The man squanders Gwent’s resources as if he was only to be king for a day.’

  Tory found this a rather intriguing observation. ‘So you think he’s planning to leave?’

  ‘The building of a fort on the border of an allied kingdom is an obvious distraction — the trouble is, Conan’s real motive eludes me.’

  ‘Well …’ Tory tossed a few possibilities around in her head. ‘If it’s not war for religion’s sake, as I first suspected … then it must be war for the sake of love.’ She looked to the Merlin, having found the answer that escaped him. ‘I’ll bet it’s Cara.’ Tory stood compelled by a memory. ‘Rhun perceived that Conan had taken an interest in her at the feast of Beltaine.’

  Taliesin rolled his eyes, knowing the suggestion made sense. ‘I’d hate to think that all this turmoil is on account —’

  From deep within the earth there was a great rumble. Both Tory and Taliesin ran clear of the temple ruins as small amounts of stone debris crumbled from what remained of the structure. The sky above clouded over and within moments the day had become as black as night.

  ‘What is it? An earthquake?’ Tory proffered.

  Red mist began spewing forth from the centre of the temple ruins, and a pulsating light emanated from the altar stone in the heart of the sanctuary.

  ‘It’s an etheric quake,’ he uttered, before turning and grabbing Tory to guide her to her horse.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tory resisted, trying to extract an explanation.

  ‘You have to leave.’ Taliesin glanced at the encroaching mist that would engulf them at any moment. ‘If I ever needed you to shut up and do as you’re told, it’s now! Go!’ He gave Tory a foot up onto her horse and then slapped the animal’s rear to get it moving.

  Not so fast.

  The warning resounded through Taliesin’s brain as the mist came over him. He turned back to behold a tall figure of a man silhouetted against the bright red mist at the temple entrance. The figure held out a hand towards the horse on which Tory fled, and the animal immediately reared up and threw her to the ground. She was knocked unconscious on impact.

  Long time no see, Taliesin. The unearthly visitor descended the temple stairs. Still squandering thine energy on human beings, hey?

  Taliesin didn’t rush to Tory’s aid, knowing she would not sustain any permanent injury; he stood his ground to confront the Lord of the Night. Thou dost exceed thy bounds, Gwyn. What dost thou want?

  He asks, as if he did not know. The eight foot tall warrior emerged from the mists to stand over the Merlin. He was covered in green and red war paint which made his smile appear all the more devilish. Besides, my bounds art fast extending. He eyed the area now shrouded in mist. And it would be thy fault, Taliesin, for failing to protect the lands sacred to the Goddess’ folk from the ravages of thy precious human menace.

  I wast in the process of addressing that problem. I am not permitted to interfere in the human disputes of the Middle Kingdoms, Gwyn, I can advise only. But I assure thee —

  Not interested in hearing assurances. Gwyn ap Nudd held his palm out to cover the Merlin’s third eye and Taliesin froze.

  Entities of hardened stone

  claim this victim as thine own.

  In accordance with thy Lord’s wish

  trap him in an obelisk.

  At the Night Hunter’s command liquid rock began to ooze from the earth at Taliesin’s feet and quickly encased his body from the feet up. Once the grey stone had covered him completely, it hardened into rock. Gwyn smiled as he admired the large obelisk that now stood in the Merlin’s place. Sorry Taliesin. Best that thee sit this dispute out. I do have the authority to take action and so I shall. The Lord’s attention turned to Tory. Bring forth my compensation, Gwyn commanded.

  The mist gathered around Tory’s unconscious form, raising her clear off the ground to carry her forth to Gwyn ap Nudd.

  Exceptional, for a human. He admired Tory’s aura. I am appeased, he decreed, turning and heading back to the otherworldly gateway he’d created in the centre of the temple. The mist followed its Lord back into the etheric realms, conveying Tory’s unconscious form along with it.

  The dragon caused quite an uproar when it landed at Aurelius Caninus’ stronghold at Caerleon — the huge cobblestoned inner bailey served as a perfect landing pad for the creature.

  Upon touchdown, Rufus released a loud screech and spewed flames into the sky high above the heads of the horrified locals.

  ‘Must thee, Rufus?’ Maelgwn knew he was just showing off.


  If this be one’s last appearance, one wants it to be memorable, justified the beast, settling onto all fours and curling up so that Maelgwn could disembark.

  The dragon’s display had sent everyone running for their lives, except old Aurelius’ first knight, Sir Leoline, who remained in attendance and hadn’t flinched an eyelid. ‘This be most unusual, Highness.’ He gave a slight bow to Maelgwn as he approached, and then eyed the dragon with distaste. ‘I trust thou hast fair cause for bringing such a beast into our kingdom?’

  ‘Aye, I have fair cause … a condition of the pact Aurelius signed with us hast been breached. I demand that the construction of the fort Conan builds at Craig-y-Ddinas be abandoned immediately.’

  ‘Why on earth should that concern the alliance, Majesty?’ Leoline wondered how Maelgwn even knew about Conan’s project.

  ‘The site he hast chosen be sacred to the Goddess’ folk —’ Maelgwn was interrupted when Sir Leoline burst into laughter.

  ‘Thou doth not heed the silly tales that the commoners spin?’ Leoline chuckled, until he noted how annoyed Maelgwn appeared.

  ‘I need to speak with Aurelius Caninus,’ the King demanded.

  Leoline shook his head. ‘That would be quite impossible, as he hast taken ill.’

  ‘All the more reason that I should see him.’ Maelgwn sidestepped the older knight, and drew his sword as Leoline’s was heard to slip from its scabbard. The King turned to confront Aurelius’ champion. ‘I am here on behalf of the Goddess, friend. Do not bring her wrath upon thyself.’

  Rufus, who had been lying quietly, gave a growl in support of his associate.

  Leoline lowered his sword and shrugged. ‘Have it thy way, Dragon, but it shall prove a waste of time.’

  Both men returned their swords to their scabbards, and Leoline led the way to his ailing leader.

  As Maelgwn entered the bedchamber the familiar smell of death caught his attention right away.

  Aurelius looked so small in his bed. In the two months since Beltaine, he had wasted away to nothing and his skin had turned so pale that Maelgwn feared he may have come too late. ‘How hast this happened?’ He turned to Leoline for an explanation.