by Lowri Thomas
Looking up and down the huge concrete plaza she was shocked at the size of the buildings towering above her, ugly and grey, blocking the position of the sun.
‘Do not try to run from me child.’ Mary closed her hand around Anwen’s forearm in a vice like grip. ‘Awel said to hide and protect you and that I will do. Whatever is going on in Eryri is no business of mine and I do not particularly want to know, but you are in my charge now, so let us be going home, shall we?’ Mary’s voice was stern and brooked no nonsense. She steered Anwen back into the station and firmly led her down a flight of stairs to a dirty, grey streaked forecourt where a row of black taxi cabs stood idly waiting.
Mary frogmarched Anwen to the front taxi and leaned in the window. ‘Chiswick High Road,’ she instructed, as she bundled Anwen in the back and sat beside her, finally letting go of her arm.
‘You’ve no right–’ Anwen began to protest as she rubbed her arm.
‘Be quiet child.’ Mary talked right over her. ‘I am here to prevent little girls who play with fire from getting burnt, it is a lesson you should have learned by now, but obviously you need further schooling and one of your lessons will be in good manners, so be quiet, until we get home.’ Mary looked at the reflection of the driver’s face in the rear view mirror but he seemed to be ignoring his two passengers and so Mary contented herself with ignoring her new charge and instead looked out of the window.
Anwen was bewildered by this new woman in her life, a bolshy, headstrong and matriarchal woman who quite frankly, scared the living daylights out of her. She realised that Mary reminded her of her Great-Aunt Nerys and that gave Anwen a sinking feeling as she watched the woman from the corner of her eye and planned her escape.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Taliesin ran as fast as his legs would carry him, he did not stop until he reached the Cerdd Carega in the forest. He threw himself against it and vanished, reappearing in the dell.
‘Mother!’ he called, as he sped towards the hollow, ‘Awel!’
A sea of concerned faces greeted him as he crested the hill and descended into the hollow. The whole Pride was gathered and he had obviously interrupted the gathering.
‘Taliesin!’ Mab rushed forward. ‘What is it?’
Taliesin leaned on his thighs to catch his breath, his chest heaved in and out as he tried to slow his breathing.
Awel leaned down. ‘What has happened to your face?’ Her voice was full of concern and anger. ‘Your lip is bleeding!’
Gasps and mutterings passed through the Pride as they all gathered around him, but he waved them away. ‘You must come.’ He gulped for air. ‘Afagddu has been imprisoned, accused of killing a Seeker and two Helgi.’ His chest heaved as he tried to get his words out. The Pride all began to speak over one another at the news. ‘There is more – he is also accused of the murder of Nerys of Ty Mawr.’
‘So it is true!’ Artio breathed, ‘The Druids murder the Chosen!’ More shocked gasps and chattering ensued but Taliesin waved them to silence.
‘It is worse.’ He took a huge breath. ‘Dafydd Morgan has been imprisoned too. His family is pronounced Gwaradwyddedig until they surrender Anwen for questioning!’
‘Who has done this?’ Mab demanded. ‘This is scandalous! What are the Morgans accused of?’
‘Nothing. Dafydd Morgan was the one to suggest Afagddu murdered the Nerys woman, suggested. Father is enraged, he declared that both he and Afagddu be imprisoned, he was the one who declared the family Gwaradwyddedig!’
‘He cannot do this.’ Awel was incensed. ‘Only the Triskele can pronounce the shaming, not one person alone, it must be by all three factions, the Pride was not even consulted. Aeron goes too far, he goes above himself.’ The Pride’s murmuring became bitter and angry.
‘Sound the horn!’ Mab called over the clamour of the enraged Pride, ‘I summon all Bwy Hir to Mynydd y Gelli.’
The Tylwyth Teg had stood as passive spectators on the edge of the dell, but as soon as Mab called for the horn to be sounded a sharp, clear note blasted through the dell and up onto the wind, calling all the Bwy Hir to gather as one.
‘To Gelli!’ Awel called, and the Pride followed in earnest, striding through the long grass and up to the Cerdd Carega. One by one they vanished from the dell to await their counterparts at the sacred meeting place. Never before, on the eve of the Solstice, had the Bwy Hir united upon the mount. History was in the making as Pride and Host appeared within the ancient standing stones. The Pride stalked the summit like hunting lionesses as each of the Host appeared with confusion and concern etched on their faces as they were greeted with stony feline glares.
‘What is all this?’ Aeron demanded, as he strolled into the circle.
‘What have you done?’ Mab demanded, as she turned to face him.
Aeron nearly smirked at the rage emanating from his queen. ‘You have called, I have answered. What else would you have me do?’
‘You have imprisoned one of the Chosen.’ Mab’s voice was full of accusation and anger, echoed by growls from the rest of her Pride.
Aeron cast a slow accusatory glare of his own directed at his son, before returning his attention to Mab. ‘I have. What of it?’
‘You have no right. Neither can you declare a family Gwaradwyddedig without the approval of the entire Triskele.’ Mab spat her words.
‘A mere formality.’ Aeron looked around the gathered Bwy Hir, gauging their mood.
‘It is not a formality,’ Mab hissed, ‘it is the right of every member of the Triskele to receive a fair and equal trial. It is the duty of every Elder of the Triskele to see law and justice upheld. You consulted no-one, you did not follow the law and thus your declaration is annulled. Release the Chosen prisoner.’
Aeron glanced around the circle again, taking note of every face, he pursed his lips before speaking. ‘My Councillor has charges brought against him. He is mine and I will do with him as I please and none will gainsay me. He is accused of murder of a Seeker, destruction of two Helgi and a further accusation of the murder of a woman with an apparent witness to the deed. The witness runs away, flits off and hides from those very accusations. Her father refuses to cooperate with the investigation and surrender his daughter to questioning – questioning that will prove my Councillor’s guilt or innocence. The Chosen is held at my pleasure and until this matter is sorted out and brought in front of a Triskelion jury then the Chosen will stay where he is. I have broken no law that I can think of, a Triskelion jury cannot be formed until the facts of the case are made clear. I will not release the Chosen, nor my Councillor.’
‘You cannot subject a woman to questioning, she is not Chosen.’ Awel spoke up.
‘I can if she accuses a Druid of murder.’ Aeron smiled.
‘And has she actually accused this Druid of murder, or are you acting on hearsay?’ Awel prodded further.
‘We’ll find out when she is surrendered.’ Again Aeron smiled.
Awel switched her focus to the Host. ‘And the rest of you agree with Aeron’s interpretation of the law?’ They remained stone faced and silent.
Aeron shook his head, slowly and cynically. ‘Ah, Awel you are so quick to jump to your queen’s bidding, so quick to defend and support, but you and the Pride have forgotten one important fact: Mab no longer rules. Her powers, as are yours and the Prides are weakening and yet, in all arrogance the Pride dares call the Host here to try and hold them to account for doing what is ours by right: to rule.’ His smile was vicious. ‘The Host hold sway now, and I above all. Scuttle back to your little den, Pride of the Bwy Hir and await our call, the Host’s call for you to surrender to our whims at the Solstice.’ With a last hideous and sardonic smile Aeron reached out to touch a Cerdd Carega and vanished, leaving a seething Pride in his wake.
The Host turned their backs slowly on the Pride and began to vanish one by one. The last to leave was Gwrnach. He stood alone balefully watching the stricken Pride. ‘For the record,’ he shouted across, ‘I am ashamed of my brot
her’s actions and hope the Pride can forgive us for his actions.’
Awel spun to face him before calling Olwyn forward and striding across to meet him halfway across the circle. ‘I thank you for your kind word, Gwrnach,’ Awel sighed, ‘and so we return the gift, but these words are for your ears only, Gwrnach, so keep silent this time.’ She gave him a stern look and Gwrnach had the decency to look embarrassed.
Awel left Olwyn to break the news to Gwrnach herself and so she re-joined her sisters as they began to disappear from the hilltop. Awel had just placed her hand on the Cerdd Carega when she heard a joyous bellow erupt from Gwrnach. ‘A Triskele is a precious thing,’ she whispered to herself, ‘man, woman and child being the most precious of all.’ Awel smiled grimly as she vanished, vowing that she would do whatever it took to protect the Triskele within the Triskele: Taliesin, Anwen Morgan and their unborn child.
R’hela
BOOK TWO OF
THE BWY HIR TRILOGY
None shall break the Triskele oath
Blood and toil, we give to both,
Bound together kith and kin,
A ring of fire to seer the skin,
Never falter, never fall,
Gwaradwyddedig?
We stand tall.
PROLOGUE
There were rumblings of disquiet among the Chosen men as they made their way to the lakeside to undress. One of their own was missing; the Morgan family had been named Gwaradwyddedig: Shamed, and were therefore expelled from the Solstice. The men cast sideways glances at the Druids standing guard at the water’s edge. The occasional mutter of discontentment could be heard as the Chosen finished undressing and submerged themselves into the icy water.
The Druids too appeared to be unsettled, they also felt the chill of trepidation among their ranks, but the Solstice must be complete, the Harvest must be accomplished, the Triskele upheld, and so they completed their duties with precision and diligence, leading the Chosen men in single file to the ring of ancient standing stones.
Torches flickered furiously against the impudent wind blowing across the hallowed hilltop. The inky sky was clear and the stars sparkled brightly in rivalry with the flames blazing beneath them, pulsing to the rhythm of the Bodrans that echoed through the valley.
Once each man was stationed in his allotted place each one was brought to his knees by the black-hooded Druids performing the ceremony. Every Chosen man was naked and still dripping wet from his submersion in the hoary lake at the foot of the hilltop. They were pure, they were willing, they were Chosen.
The Chosen were genuflected in preparation for the Harvest, as had their fathers and their forefathers. The blood that coursed through their veins was untainted, pure. The Druids each had a small table positioned at their hip laden with the required instruments to continue with the ritual. Bending each man’s arm with a tourniquet in readiness to extract the yield, silver needles were inserted and the required amount of blood was extracted before being poured into a ceremonial bowl.
Once complete, the tourniquet was removed and then a silver goblet was passed between the men, each taking a sip that would send their minds into a temporary oblivion, their eyes rolling into the back of their heads, jaws slackened and muscles relaxed. Some would slump to the ground, some would remain kneeling, all were now disregarded, their service rendered.
The Bodrans increased their tempo as the recipients of the Harvest moved forward to receive their bounty, standing in front of their allotted donor. They did not kneel: they were the Bwy Hir, righteous and divine. They towered over both Druid and man. Despite the resplendence of the Bwy Hir there was an air of apprehension surrounding the Host; one of their number was also missing from the gathering and his whereabouts were unknown. Never in the history of the Solstice had a member of the Host failed to attend, until now.
The female Bwy Hir, known collectively as the Pride, stood impassively, they had already ingested a fusion to dull the ferocity of the Solstice, their eyes glazed over, their only movement was to lift their arms forward, surrendering to the Druids’ cold, nervous touch. The females took the blood in pure form, nothing was added to the deep red fluid as it was injected to fuse with their own lifeblood, rejuvenating, recharging, invigorating.
For the male recipients, looming impatiently, naked and resplendent, their elixir would be enhanced by the Druids. This was the true purpose of the Harvest. Although Human blood was vital for the continued existence of the Bwy Hir recipients, the enhancement added to the elixir by the Druids was fundamental for the reproduction of the Bwy Hir. No child could be conceived without it.
The hostile, violent coupling that was about to transpire was forbidden to look upon, and as the Bodrans continued their pounding from the shadows, the Druids withdrew themselves from the circle, turning their backs on the flickering torches and staring into the night until it was over … only it didn’t begin.
‘I feel nothing,’ Aeron rasped to his brothers, as they stood waiting for the elixir or ‘ateb’ as it was known, to begin to take effect. Usually the exhilarating rush of potency was immediate but Aeron felt nothing and neither did any of the Host. ‘What is this?’ Aeron roared to the Druids hiding in the shadows.
The Bodrans fell silent and there was an urgent whispering from beyond the torchlight before two Druids appeared from the shadows, stepping over the unconscious Chosen slumped in the grass and cautiously approached Aeron Ddu, King of the Winter Realm. ‘There is a problem, my Lord?’ one of the Druids stammered, as the Host stood impatiently and impotently in the moonlight.
‘The ateb is not working!’ Aeron barely kept hold of his temper. ‘What trickery is this?’ he bellowed. The Pride swayed on their feet, their unfocused eyes and blank faces becoming more attentive as they sensed the Host’s unease and felt the stillness of inaction.
‘What is happening?’ Mab Rhedyn Haf, Queen of the Bwy Hir slurred as she fought to regain lucidity. ‘What is wrong?’ Her eyes rolled as she struggled to focus.
‘The ateb is faulty!’ Gwrnach gasped in disbelief. ‘The Druids deceive us!’ There was angry muttering among the Bwy Hir as they turned accusingly to the Druids.
‘No!’ shouted an Elder Druid. ‘We do not deceive you! We too are duped! The ateb has been tampered with, weakened and diluted!’
The Elder Druid held up the ateb flask for Aeron’s inspection but Aeron thrust it away. ‘I do not want your excuses,’ he hissed, ‘bring more ateb immediately!’
‘We cannot!’ wailed the Elder. ‘We have all of it here with us – all of it has been corrupted!’ The Druid fell to his knees and sobbed into his hands. All the other Druids followed suit and bowed to their masters.
Aeron grabbed at his own hair and lifted his eyes to the starry sky. Without the ateb the Host were incapable of performing their duties as mates. His eyes darted from left to right as he tried to comprehend who would dare do such a thing and suddenly it dawned on him.
‘Cadno!’ he bellowed. He threw his attention back to the Druids. ‘Go!’ he screamed through snarling teeth. ‘Find me Cadno, send the Helgi, send every Seeker, I want him found!’
The Druids scurried in every direction leaving the Chosen lying obliviously scattered on the mountainside as Aeron paced the circle. The Pride had comprehended the finality of Cadno’s sting and so they slowly began to withdraw on unsteady feet, making their way to the Cerdd Carega that would take them to their lair where they would slumber until Spring.
The Host watched dismally as the Pride departed. Aeron was incensed, he threw up his arms and let out a guttural roar. His hands turned to claws as he slashed at the night sky. Flashes of lightning were called at his whim to strike at the earth, rumbles of thunder peeled across the mountain and an icy wind raged across the mountains. Again and again lightning struck the earth and thunder shook the hilltops as Aeron unleashed his full temper and control.
‘What shall we do?’ Llud asked woefully to his brethren standing buffeted on the mountain. ‘Do?’ Aeron growled with a
vicious snarl as he let the chaos abate. ‘We do what the Host does best: We hunt.’ The Host shouted their approval as they followed Aeron from the mountainside to return to the Halls of the Druid to prepare for the R’hela: the Hunt, leaving the Chosen forgotten in the grass.
Only once the last Bwy Hir removed themselves from the hilltop did the Druids return to complete the ceremony by removing all trace of occupancy. By sunrise the men would begin to stir, finding themselves fully dressed with no recollection of the ritual subsequent to sipping from the silver goblet, or the chaos that had ensued.
Fuzzy headed, aching and tired, each man would return to their normal, everyday lives. They would return home, kiss their wives and children, till the fields and tend their livestock. Normality would continue on the farms nestled in the valley until the next Solstice, only not the peaceful normality they had enjoyed the previous season, this new normality was tinged with loss and sadness as they must turn their backs on the Morgans of Ty Mawr Farm, at least until Aeron Ddu, King of the Winter Realm and Arch Orphanim of The Bwy Hir deemed otherwise.
CHAPTER ONE
Druid Madog had come straight from the Solstice on the Gelli hillside, running as fast as his feet would carry him. He left others to carry the tale to the Elders and the Council – his quarry was far more important.
Running headlong down the dank tunnels deep below the Druid Halls, Madog made his way to a place feared and avoided by all of his brethren. Dduallt was not only the kennels to the Helgi but was also an ill-favoured prison, lurking in the bowels of the Eryri mountains where no daylight ever penetrated. It was a dark, unforgiving, fetid hellhole and yet Madog couldn’t wait to get there to deliver the news.
