The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy

by Lowri Thomas

  Just as Anwen was gathering enough of her ebbing strength to pull up on the wall she heard the distant roar of an approaching vehicle, she hesitated and ducked back down, waiting for the car to pass. She saw the headlights coming closer and dipped her head as she hid. The car slowed just down the road from her hiding place and Anwen became aware of a second car approaching from the opposite direction. Oh my god, how have they found me? Her legs wobbled at the thought of breaking cover and making a run for it and so she waited, trying to hold her breath as she dug deeper into the undergrowth.

  The second car pulled up slowly. Anwen could hear the swish-swish of the windscreen wipers and the tapping of the engine as the car stopped. She heard a car door open and close and the tisk-tisking of a waterproof jacket as someone made their way towards the other vehicle.

  ‘Any news?’ said one man’s voice.

  ‘No, no, they haven’t found them yet,’ said the other.

  Was that Trevor Ellis?

  ‘Good god, what a sorry state of affairs. How’s Dafydd doing?’

  ‘Ambulance is on its way, he’s alive but unconscious.’

  Dad.

  ‘Do you think he’ll pull through?’

  ‘Hard to say, we’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘Do you think we’re going to find the women in the same state?’

  What state? What happened to Nerys?

  ‘God, I hope not. Gwyn’s got enough on his plate.’

  Oh, Gwyn.

  ‘What do the blacks have to say about all this?’

  Druids, Anwen sneered.

  ‘Nought yet, but they’re not happy … doesn’t bode well, this … what a bloody mess!’

  ‘Mess indeed, Trev. Right, I’m off to join in the search, are they still at The Eagle?’

  ‘Yes, men are still arriving, you’ll not miss the party. I’m off to pick up my dogs and then I’ll be back.’

  ‘OK, see you in a bit, Hwyl.’

  ‘Hwyl, Ta-ra.’ Trevor got back in his car and revved the engine and both vehicles passed each other speeding off in opposite directions.

  Anwen had fought the urge to give up, to give in and surrender. Friends and neighbours would be out in this weather looking high and low for her. The Druids would be out with their hideous hounds. I don’t stand a chance, she whimpered, as she tried to make sense of what she’d overheard.

  I thought I told you to run! Nerys’ gruff voice was back inside her head. What are you waiting for? Give to him who asks of you, and do not turn away … Anwen shut Nerys’ voice out and threw herself over the wall. Checking over her shoulder she began jogging down the road away from the village towards her goal. She knew where she was going and no matter how many times she had to throw herself back over the wall if another car came, she was going to get there.

  The cottage she sought was right on the edge of the village and when she arrived at the gates she noted all the lights were off. Having no choice, she cautiously crept up the gravel driveway and gently tapped on the front door. She waited a few moments before tapping again, only louder this time. Finally, a light came on in the hallway and she could see the figure of the vicar warily coming down the stairs.

  ‘Who is it?’ he called through the door.

  ‘It’s me!’ Anwen whispered loudly. ‘I mean, it’s Anwen Morgan, I need your help.’

  There was a pause before Anwen heard the security chain rattle and then the door opened ajar. The vicar peeped through the crack before opening it all the way and letting a rag-tag Anwen into the house.

  ‘Anwen – what’s all this about?’ he whispered, his face etched with concern.

  ‘I’m in trouble vicar and didn’t know where else to go.’ Her eyes began to fill with tears. ‘There was a man … in our house, I had to run away.’ Her lips were trembling as she spoke, her eyes wide with fear and her tiny body shook uncontrollably as she tried to explain herself.

  ‘Shh, shh, you’re safe now Anwen, come on in and let’s at least get you dry while you explain what’s going on.’ He ushered her into the kitchen, checked the kettle for water and switched it on to boil before vanishing into what Anwen presumed was the utility room. He offered her a seat at the yellow and white cotton covered table decorated with a vase of large white daisies and gypsophila, a neat pile of paper, brown envelopes and a small clear plastic bag containing an assortment of notes and coins.

  The vicar returned with two fluffy white towels and a rose pink tracksuit that obviously belonged to his wife. ‘Here, sort yourself out.’ He passed Anwen the bundle. ‘I’ll wait in the hallway, just call out when you’re decent.’

  She dressed as quickly as she could, conscious of keeping the vicar waiting, conscious of time ticking away. ‘I’m ready,’ she called quietly and the vicar bobbed back into the kitchen and set about making a cup of tea while Anwen towel-dried her unruly hair.

  ‘Now then,’ The vicar passed her a mug of tea. ‘You look a bit better, drier at least. What kind of trouble are you in, Anwen?’

  Anwen dropped her head. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, but I am in danger.’

  ‘Danger? Has this anything to do with the … the black men?’ the vicar hedged.

  Anwen didn’t know how to answer. Was he one of them? She squirmed in her chair as her eyes darted around the room looking for the nearest exit. ‘Where’s your wife and son?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘Oh, she’s dead to the world, she takes sleeping pills, afflicted with insomnia and my son is staying at a friend’s house this evening – oh, I see!’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Don’t worry, I am not one of them. Anwen, how could you think such a thing!’ he chided kind-heartedly and smiled reassuringly.

  ‘Can I ask what’s dangling from the chain around your neck?’ Anwen’s heart was beginning to pump.

  ‘It’s a St Christopher. Anwen calm yourself, I told you I have nothing to do with this silly local cult.’ The vicar seemed genuinely affronted.

  ‘I – I – I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m thinking.’ Anwen wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffed. ‘Um, yes, it’s about them, they’re going to get me. Nerys stopped one of them, but they’ll come.’

  ‘And your father and brother didn’t protect you?’

  ‘They were both out, only me and Nerys were home.’ Anwen tried to stop the tears and stop her face wrinkling into despair but she couldn’t help it and so she sobbed while the vicar held her hand. ‘I need to get away,’ Anwen snivelled, ‘I can’t let them catch me. Will you help me?’ she pleaded. ‘I won’t go home, you can’t make me!’

  The vicar chuckled at Anwen’s tenacity. ‘I’m not suggesting that for one moment’ He shook his head and smiled. Anwen couldn’t believe she had thought so horribly of this man, she felt guilty and small minded as she sipped at her tea, her huge eyes peering over the rim at his kind and patient face.

  The vicar watched Anwen as she put her mug down on the table. She had to keep thrusting the sleeves of the oversized tracksuit back up her arms and push her unruly hair out of her face, her appearance made her look vulnerable and childlike.

  ‘Why do these men “want to get you,” do you know who they are?’ the vicar asked.

  Anwen hesitated before answering his questions. ‘I know things I shouldn’t. The Druids don’t like women, you know?’

  ‘Druids? Anwen, they are only local men acting out some silly fantasy–’

  ‘No, they are not. The Chosen are the local men, the Druids serve the Bwy Hir.’

  ‘The Bwy – Anwen what are you talking about?’

  ‘The Bwy Hir. You know who they are? You do know what they are, surely?’

  ‘No, Anwen. Why don’t you tell me who the Bwy Hir are?’ The vicar spoke to Anwen as though she was a confused small child and for some reason that really irked her.

  ‘Nephilim … the Bwy Hir are Nephilim,’ she stated simply.

  The vicar’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Perhaps the girl was under the influence of drugs. ‘The Nephilim,’ he said
patiently, ‘as in the biblical Nephilim?’ He rubbed his chin as he spoke; it was obvious he didn’t believe her.

  ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve never read the bible.’

  ‘Wait here, Anwen.’ The vicar got to his feet. ‘Let me find my bible and I will read you the very small passage that mentions the Nephilim, I think it’s Genesis, give me a moment.’

  The vicar went to his study and turned the desk lamp on. He looked at the telephone briefly, wondering whether he should call Mr Morgan and tell him where his daughter was, but instead he retrieved his battered leather bible and opened it to the Old Testament.

  He returned to the kitchen flicking the translucent pages over and over until he came to the passage he was looking for. ‘Here it is,’ he said, pointing to the opened page and he began to read out loud, ‘Genesis chapter six: and it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair.’ He looked up momentarily to ensure that Anwen was paying attention but all he found was an empty chair. Anwen Morgan was gone, taking her belongings and the church collection money he’d left on the table.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Mab shook Awel awake. Awel’s eyes flew open to meet Mab’s worried stare. It was still dark outside and Awel could barely make out Mab’s form in the dimness.

  ‘What is it?’ blurted Awel, now fully awake.

  ‘They have found Dafydd Morgan, alive but unconscious,’ Mab began.

  ‘That is well and good,’ Awel replied, leaning back into her pillow.

  ‘There is more – our guardian and Anwen of Ty Mawr are missing.’

  Awel sat bolt upright. ‘What? You are sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mab’s voice was stony. ‘Word has just reached me. They have vanished into thin air.’

  ‘Are they with Taliesin?’ Awel whispered, confused and bewildered.

  ‘I hope not. The implications …’

  ‘What has happened?’

  ‘That is not yet known. The Druids claim they know nothing.’

  ‘Do you believe them?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘And the boy? The new initiate?’

  ‘He is well.’

  ‘He is unharmed?’

  ‘Yes, he has been chosen as a donor for Aeron, no-one would dare touch him without his authority.’

  ‘Does Taliesin know?’ Awel’s worried frown matched that of the Queen’s.

  ‘I don’t know. I need you to find out.’ Mab squeezed Awel’s arm.

  ‘Does Anwen wear the bracelet? Have you located her?’

  ‘You are the better scryer, will you do it?’

  ‘Then let us be about it. I would like to be able to take Taliesin some good news, if I can.’

  Awel swung her legs off the cot and onto the floor. Throwing a cloak around her shoulders she hurriedly followed Mab to her pavilion.

  Scrying was one of Awel’s many talents and if Anwen was wearing the bracelet then she would be easily located by Awel but hidden from the black scryers among the Druids, even the Helgi would be hard pressed to find her as long as she was wearing the bracelet. Without it not only would Anwen be lost to the Pride but would be easily found by the Druids. As far as Awel knew there were none among the Host with the ability or interest in scrying and she hoped, for Anwen’s sake that that was still the case.

  Leaning over the huge copper scrying bowl already set in position in Mab’s pavilion, Awel poured water into its bottom and waited for it to settle before beginning the incantation. The waters slowly began to rotate as if being stirred. The water began to turn milky and Awel looked down at the scene unfolding before her eyes: Anwen was running through dark fields, her hair being dragged and clawed by the wind that thrashed at her mercilessly. She looked scared, tired and Awel’s heart went out to her.

  Awel had not put eyes on Anwen before this moment, not since her birth and she had wondered at what she might look like. To Awel, Anwen looked almost feral. The moonlight only gave her a hint of what Anwen truly looked like, but for the brief moment she spied her Awel could not see what had attracted Taliesin to the little Human waif.

  ‘She flees through the fields,’ Awel said to Mab, ‘but she seems unharmed. Our guardian is not with her … do you want me to fetch the girl?’

  ‘No.’ Mab touched at her own throat, insecure and concerned. ‘Let us not meddle further, not until we understand what is happening.’

  Awel leaned back from the bowl and the waters cleared, ‘What is happening?’ Awel wondered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ‘The ambulance is here, Gwyn.’ Dai ushered the two paramedics inside the house. There was a flurry of activity, a stretcher, head brace and oxygen was brought in and then, once they were satisfied, they carried Dafydd’s blanketed body from his home, into the ambulance and away to Bangor Hospital. Gwyn had desperately wanted to go with his father, but Dai told him he must wait for Anwen and Nerys to return, so Bryn-Wisgi went in his stead.

  The lights dimmed in the neat empty house and Dai once again got to his feet. On his return he took a seat on the now vacant sofa and sighed.

  ‘What is it now?’ Gwyn asked numbly.

  ‘The Druids are waiting for the ambulance to leave the area and then the Seekers and Helgi will join with the search.’

  ‘Still no sign of Anwen or Nerys?’

  ‘No sign. Do you have any idea where they might go?’

  Gwyn opened his mouth but shut it again.

  ‘If you know where they’ve gone, you need to tell us. Is there something you should be telling me, Gwyn?’ Dai leaned forward in his seat.

  ‘Who is “us”?’ Gwyn studied Dai before continuing. ‘Anyway, I don’t know.’

  Dai leaned back and placed his hands on his lap. ‘I am not your enemy, Gwyn, and neither are the Druids.’

  ‘No?’ Gwyn’s voice was laced with sarcasm. ‘All I know is that since they turned up everything has turned to shit.’

  Dai had no reply. Everything had been fine at Ty Mawr until the barn fire. Something was amiss, but Dai couldn’t put his finger on it. They sat in silence, each enveloped in their own deliberations.

  The sky had turned from deep blue to light grey by the time the search party called it a night. Dai had remained with Gwyn in the living room; a solid rock in the eye of the storm. ‘No sign of them,’ Trevor said, as he strolled into the house to give another update. ‘The vicar’s not seen them either, no-one from the village, it’s like they’ve just disappeared.’

  ‘Okay, enough,’ Dai rubbed his face. ‘We all need some rest.’

  ‘Do we call the police?’ Gwyn asked.

  ‘No we bloody don’t,’ Dai snapped. ‘We keep it amongst ourselves – this is Chosen business.’

  ‘But they’ve been missing all night!’ Gwyn raised his voice.

  ‘And if anybody can find them, the Seekers will!’ Dai raised his voice and Trevor shuffled his feet uncomfortably. ‘Gwyn,’ Dai continued in a calmer tone, ‘is there something you’re not telling me, because from where I’m sitting something doesn’t feel right. I can’t help you if there’s something you’re not telling me.’

  ‘I told you already!’ Gwyn threw up his hands. ‘How many times, Dai? When I went to search for my father the girls were here, in the house. When I got back, they were gone – you were here for god’s sake!’

  ‘It’s alright, Gwyn.’ Trevor spoke softly, ‘We’re just trying to help, that’s all.’

  Gwyn heaved a deep sigh. ‘I need to go to my father, I can’t wait here for the girls to return.’

  ‘Okay.’ Dai was back to his normal, sturdy self. ‘I’ll stay here with Bara, you go off to the hospital. Trev, can you go and tell my wife where I am. I’ll be home as soon as I can, tell her to get the boys to do the milking this morning, if they haven’t already made a start.’

  Trevor nodded once and left the house without a word. Gwyn and Dai stare
d at each other until Dai tipped his head towards the door. ‘Go on then, and give my regards to Dafydd.’ Gwyn gave a half smile, ruffled Bara’s head and left.

  Dai waited for the engine of Gwyn’s car to recede before slipping back into the front room: he had a report to make.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Dai Jones stood in the huge, cavernous chamber flanked by two Druids. He had been ordered to step through the mirror to report to the Elder Druids in person; a rare occurrence, but then, these were rare circumstances.

  Dai’s legs were trembling, he was tired, hungry and in desperate need of a pee, but he kept his head bowed and stood completely still, waiting obediently to be summoned.

  A shuffle of feet drew Dai’s attention and he lifted his head. Two Druids walked into the chamber, their brows drawn down in concern. ‘I am Elder Tomas and this is Elder Morcan.’ Dai bobbed his head and swallowed.

  ‘What a sorry state of events,’ sighed Elder Morcan, ‘what can you tell us?’

  ‘Gwyn Morgan, the new initiate?’ Dai began, but Elder Tomas waved his hand, they already knew who Gwyn Morgan was. ‘Well, Gwyn has just gone off to visit his father, Dafydd, he’s in hospital. The two women are still missing.’ Dai swallowed again.

  ‘Is the boy accused? Is he responsible for these events?’ Elder Tomas asked.

  ‘No, No!’ Dai shook his head. ‘Gwyn isn’t a bad boy. The family is close. There is no way he would have done anything to harm his family. We found him cradling his father, I’d seen Nerys and Anwen with Gwyn earlier in the evening and nothing was amiss. Only when we brought Dafydd back, with the help of two of your Druids, the two women were missing. One is the daughter, the other a blood aunt … none of it makes sense.’

  ‘Is there a Chosen feud we are not aware of? Their barn was torched, was it not?’ Elder Tomas fixed Dai with a penetrative stare.

  ‘No, again, no. The Morgans are well liked, everything was going well. They are a good family. No enemies, no nastiness. Good people. Good friends.’ Dai shrugged his shoulders and suddenly felt the weight of the evening’s events pressing down on him. He wiped a tear from his eye and sighed a heavy, worn out sigh before dropping his head.