by Lowri Thomas
The R’hela: The Hunt is held on the Gelli summit on the night of the All Hallows Eve. The hunters are the Bwy Hir Host mounted on their dragons and accompanied by scores of Seekers and Helgi. The quarry is the unfortunate soul who has been pronounced Gwaradwyddedig and found guilty of a crime against the Triskele; Bwy Hir, Chosen and Druids are equally vulnerable to this fate, although in living history no Bwy Hir had ever been subject to the R’hela.
Should a charged Gwaradwyddedig not be in existence then the Druids instead released huge deer and boar specifically bred for the R’hela, these animals will also be released if the Gwaradwyddedig quarry was too easily found and killed. The R’hela must last until the first light of dawn and then cease.
It was widely speculated that Afagddu would be the quarry this year and Dafydd thanked the gods it wasn’t him or his son, but whether they would be attending the spectacle was still undecided, especially with the bounty hanging over Anwen’s head. Dafydd knew that Gwyn had initially been excited about attending his first R’hela but now, well perhaps they should not attend, not this year. ‘I don’t know,’ Dafydd answered, ‘Maybe … we’ll see.’
The telephone rang and as always of late Gwyn sprang to answer it and Dafydd followed him into the hallway. ‘Hello … yes, I’ll pass you to him now.’ Gwyn handed the telephone to his dad with a shrug of his shoulders.
‘Hello?’ Dafydd said and listened as the other person spoke. ‘When was this?’ he asked and the speaker continued. Gwyn chewed his fingernails as he watched his father’s brow knit together with concern. ‘Thank you for letting me know … who is this?’ The phone line went dead.
‘Who was it?’ Gwyn asked and Dafydd shook his head. ‘She wouldn’t say.’ Dafydd replaced the telephone and sighed. ‘But they’ve got Anwen.’
‘Who has?’ Gwyn was bouncing from foot to foot.
‘Taliesin took her and is bringing her back to Wales.’ Dafydd rubbed his stubbly chin and his eyes became slits. ‘The bastards have got my daughter.’ He glared at the closed door to the front room and then pushed past Gwyn and threw open the door.
‘Dad, we’re not allowed to use it – it’s dangerous!’ Gwyn was biting his nails again.
‘I want my daughter back,’ he stated matter-of-factly. He pulled his amulet from beneath his shirt and was about to place it on the mirror when the strangest thing happened – a bang from the inside of the mirror caused them both to jump back, a sound like a fist pounding on glass and then a shadow appeared within the reflection, a ghost of a passing shape. ‘Did you see that?’ Dafydd clutched his son’s arm. ‘What the hell was that?’
Gwyn was as shaken as his father. ‘I saw it and heard it – what the hell was it?’
‘God knows,’ said Dafydd with a quivering voice, ‘but I’m not waiting here to find out. Go to the shed and get me the drill and some long screws, I’m sealing this bloody room.’
They rushed from the room together and slammed the door tight. Gwyn rushed out of the back door and into the shed, Dafydd made a phone call. ‘Hello Dai?’ he barked down the receiver. ‘You’re not going to believe what just happened …’
Dai’s voice crackled down the line. ‘You sure? What you trying to use the bloody mirror for anyway, we’ve been told not to use them, you daft sod!’
‘Yes, I’m bloody sure!’ Dafydd shouted back. ‘And I needed to use the mirror ‘cause they’ve got Anwen!’
‘Bloody hell. You sure? How’d you know?’
‘Yes, I’m bloody sure!’ Dafydd said exasperatedly. ‘Stop asking me if I’m sure, will you? Just get over here.’
‘Okay, I’m on my way.’ Dai hung up and Dafydd did the same.
‘I got the stuff!’ Gwyn panted as he appeared with his arms full of battens, screws, nails, a drill and a hammer.
They set about securing the door, drilling and hammering until it was fortified. They heard the familiar purr of Dai’s Land Rover entering the yard and they met him at the doorway.
They ushered him into the kitchen and swore when they realised they’d burnt the bacon. ‘Tea and toast?’ Dafydd offered Dai, and he set about preparing a meagre breakfast. ‘Cold enough for you, Dai?’
‘Bloody snow,’ Dai grumbled, ‘I’ve got my work cut out today getting the sheep fed … now what’s this about, Dafydd?’
‘Where do I start?’ Dafydd inhaled and passed the breakfast duties over to Gwyn as he joined Dai at the kitchen table. ‘I got a phone call this morning …’
‘Who from?’ Dai asked as he scratched Bara between her ears.
‘I don’t know, she wouldn’t say, but I believe her … She said Taliesin had come and taken Anwen away, back here to Wales.’
‘Have you heard from Anwen?’ Dai leaned forward in his chair.
‘No. Nothing. But they only took her last night … So I was going to use the Dderwydd Ddrych to demand the Druids hand her back, but when I went to use it, I swear to you Dai, there were Ysbrydion on the other side, one banged on the glass! Gwyn saw it too.’
Dai turned to Gwyn who was nodding vigorously in agreement. Dai whistled through his teeth. ‘This is nasty business, Dafydd, and no mistake. Have you told the Council? Does Bryn-Wisgi know?’
Dafydd shook his head and accepted a steaming mug of tea from his son. ‘No, I’ve told only you. I want Anwen back, Dai.’
Dai took his own mug of tea and a slice of thick cut bread oozing with butter. ‘Anwen is not Chosen, they can’t just take her, so you need the Chosen Council behind you if you are going to demand her back.’
‘Should I call Bryn-Wisgi then? Get the Council called?’ Dafydd spoke through a mouthful of toast.
‘I would.’ Dai slurped at his tea. ‘Phone Bryn now and see what he says.’
Dafydd made the phone call and was frustrated that Bryn-Wisgi was more concerned with the Ysbrydion than he was about Anwen. ‘Just call the bloody Council,’ Dafydd barked down the phone, ‘tell them I need their help, I’ll be home all day.’ He slammed the phone down and returned to the kitchen. ‘Bloody stupid man,’ he muttered. ‘Gwyn, sorry son, but you’ll have to start in the fields without me this morning, I’ll have to wait for the damn Council.’
Gwyn nodded and pulled on his boots and jacket. He called for Bara to follow and they left to load the tractor before starting work on the top fields.
‘I’ve got to get going too.’ Dai stood to leave. ‘Let me know what they say. I’ll second your petition if needs be.’
Dafydd thanked Dai and waved him goodbye before closing the door. He busied himself with scrubbing the burnt frying pan and clearing away the remnants of breakfast. His hands were covered in soapy washing up liquid when the Council arrived.
‘Come in, come in.’ He greeted three delegates of the Chosen Council: Bryn-Wisgi, Soar-Bones Selwyn and gratefully, Glyn-Guinea; there’d be no messing about with Glyn-Guinea on board. ‘Thank you for coming so quickly.’
‘So,’ Glyn-Guinea began, as they arranged themselves around the kitchen table, ‘Aeron Ddu got his way, did he? They have your daughter? Which Chosen ratted her out then?’
‘No, no Chosen, Taliesin found her,’ Dafydd answered, as he began preparing more tea.
Glyn-Guinea’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh, and what does the Prince of Winter have to do with Anwen?’
Dafydd slowed his movements; he’d slipped up and he cursed himself for it. ‘That I don’t know,’ he lied, with his back turned to them as he prepared the tea. ‘Perhaps he was with the Seekers? All I know is they have her and I want her back. The Bwy Hir nor the Druids have any sway over our women.’
‘True, true.’ Glyn-Guinea tapped his gnarled fingers on the table. ‘But what I cannot ascertain is what they want with her? I am presuming they want her to stand against Afagddu? But that should be done through us … it is unheard of for a woman to stand up in a Triskelion Court, it should be via us. I have never heard of a woman being allowed into Maen-Du, they are supposed to be a secret … what is going on Dafydd? I cannot help you if I
am unaware of the truth.’ He finished by jabbing his pipe back into his mouth and waited for Dafydd to answer.
Dafydd felt like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place: nowhere to go. He turned back to them, disregarding his tea-making. ‘Look. I’m not sure what is going on, maybe something, maybe nothing, and I’ll not start spouting hearsay and have it bounced round the village until it becomes something it’s not – yes, I’m looking at you Bryn-Wisgi.’ Bryn huffed indignantly at the slant but Selwyn and Glyn both smiled knowingly.
‘Well, there is nothing for it,’ Saw-Bones Selwyn interjected, ‘we must approach the Druids and see what they say. As I understand it, you have no proof they are holding your daughter, so let us broach the question to them in the first instance.’ He looked to his counterparts and got their nods. ‘We shall go to the pub and use the mirror there.’
‘There’s something else.’ Dafydd looked towards the hallway. ‘I was going to use my Dderwydd Ddrych and contact the Druids directly – yes, I know I shouldn’t have, but when I went to … something happened … there were Ysbrydion waiting behind the glass.’
‘You sure?’ Glyn-Guinea looked shocked, as did the others. Dafydd nodded. ‘Both Gwyn and I saw it. I didn’t use the mirror after that, we were too scared and so I’ve secured the room, no one or nothing is going in or out of that room.’
Bryn-Wisgi stood. ‘We must inform the Druids immediately.’ The others stood as well and they filed out of the kitchen and out into the yard. ‘You best come too,’ he said to Dafydd, and they all piled into his car.
They arrived at The Eagles in good time despite the snow that had fallen during the night. The roads were mainly clear although every field, garden and rooftop was white.
They entered the pub via the back entrance and went through into Bryn-Wisgi’s home, a small cottage attached to the back of the pub. The Dderwydd Ddrych was in the front room and they piled into the tiny space, all fearful of the mirror and what may lurk behind it.
‘Go on then,’ Glyn-Guinea said, nudging Bryn. ‘It’s your mirror.’ Bryn fished out his amulet and cautiously stepped up to the mirror, his hand shaking slightly as he touched it to the surface. Nothing unusual happened; the mirror misted and became insubstantial and so he stepped into it and vanished, the mirror closed behind him.
‘That went alright.’ Glyn-Guinea peered into the mirror, looking beyond his reflection for any sign of abnormality. ‘Have you seen this?’ he said, calling the others to him. They shuffled forward and stared at the tiny anomaly on the surface of the glass. ‘What do you make of that?’
They all peered where his walking stick pointed, squinting to make sense of what they saw. ‘What is it?’ Saw-Bones Selwyn asked, as he blinked at the tiny shape.
Glyn-Guinea stepped back and removed his pipe from his wizened lips. ‘I know a rune when I see one,’ he announced, ‘what do you make of that?’ he asked Dafydd and Selwyn. They exchanged glances. ‘Runes?’ they chorused.
‘Runes!’ Glyn-Guinea wagged a finger at them. ‘Don’t see them much nowadays. My grandmother used to swear by them.’
‘What does it mean?’ Selwyn asked, peering again at the tiny shape.
‘Beats me.’ Glyn-Guinea fished a scrap of paper and a pen from his pocket. ‘Here, copy it down and we’ll hand it to the Druids – see what they make of it.’
Selwyn took the paper and pen and copied down what he saw. ‘Are you sure it’s a rune?’ he said as he etched.
‘Just copy it down and we’ll let the Druids decide.’ Glyn-Guinea sat down on the only chair in the room and waited for Bryn-Wisgi to reappear. ‘Maybe I should have gone through,’ he said aloud, ‘God knows what gossip Bryn is bleating to them.’ He tutted and ground his teeth on his pipe.
Dafydd stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for Bryn’s return. He wasn’t going to be fobbed off and that was that. He’d go through himself if necessary and demand the return of Anwen. What’s keeping him? Dafydd was getting impatient. They waited for a few more minutes and then Dafydd announced, ‘I’m going through!’
He stood in front of the mirror and took his amulet out ready to press against the glass, but he was beaten to it; the surface misted and became insubstantial and Bryn’s face appeared. His expression will always be etched in Dafydd’s memory: as he came through the mirror his expression was passive and business like but just at the point where his body was leaving the mirror a sudden look of alarm changed his expression.
Instead of completing the transition from the mirror into the room, he was pulled backwards, slowly at first and then more persistently as he struggled. A look of sheer horror etched his face as he was pulled back.
Dafydd rushed forward and grabbed at Bryn’s hand but it was to no avail. Red and black wraithlike hands grabbed at Bryn’s face and chest, pulling him backwards into the mist. Bryn screamed and Dafydd lost his grip on his hand. Dafydd went crashing to the floor and Bryn disappeared. The mirror quietened and then returned to its solid state showing the reflection of three horrified faces. Selwyn, Glyn and Dafydd stared at their own reflections, their mouths hanging open, their eyes wide and their pallor the colour of fallen snow. Bryn-Wisgi was gone.
‘Open the bloody mirror!’ Dafydd sprung to his feet. ‘We’ve got to get him back!’
Selwyn grabbed at Dafydd. ‘No! Keep it closed!’
They tussled with each other, wrestling each other to the floor, grunting and gasping. Glyn-Guinea was slow to react, but he eventually came to his senses and stood, whacking both of the men with his walking stick. ‘Get up you fools,’ he ordered, whacking them a second time for good measure. ‘We must tell every Chosen, the mirrors are deadly, everyone must block up their rooms! Come, spread the word!’ Glyn-Guinea hobbled into action and the others followed. ‘Take Bryn’s car,’ he cried to Dafydd, tell everyone, Selwyn and I will do the same!’
‘What about Bryn-Wisgi’s wife? She’s serving at the bar.’ Dafydd turned to the bar entrance. ‘What shall I tell her?’
‘Damn it.’ Selwyn blustered, ‘You go Dafydd and take Glyn, I will deal with this.’ He squared his shoulders and entered the bar.
Dafydd and Glyn rushed to Glyn’s beaten up old 4 x 4 and they jumped in. Glyn-Guinea may be slow on his feet, but in a car he was a demon and drove like a man possessed. Dafydd clung onto the dashboard as Glyn swung the car in reverse and accelerated out of the car park, skidding on the slushy snow as he stormed up the road. ‘Go to Dai’s,’ Dafydd shouted over the roar of the engine, ‘his son can help spread the word!’
Dafydd clung on for dear life as they sped through the country lanes. Bryn’s horror-filled face kept flashing in his mind and Dafydd fought down a wave of nausea.
They arrived in Dai’s yard, Glyn slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt. Dafydd jumped out as Dai’s wife came out of the house to greet them. ‘What’s going on?’ she called, wiping her hands on her apron, her face etched with concern at their sudden and unexpected arrival.
‘Where’s Dai? Where’s the boys?’ Dafydd yelled over to her.
‘In the fields,’ she answered. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘Which fields?’ he slammed the car door and paced towards her. ‘The lower fields.’ She pointed and Dafydd took off in that direction. ‘What’s wrong?’ she called but Dafydd ran through a gate and was off.
By the time he found Dai and his son, Dafydd was breathless and cold. Dai was driving the tractor and trailer and his son was throwing bales off the back. ‘Dai!’ he wheezed, as he ran towards them waving his hands.
Dai spotted him and turned the engine off. ‘What’s the bloody matter now?’ He jumped off the tractor and walked towards his friend.
Dafydd leaned over and inhaled deeply, trying to get his breath back. ‘The mirrors,’ he panted, ‘Bryn … the Ysbrydion … we must warn all the Chosen.’
‘What?’ Dai scratched his head. ‘What are you on about?’
‘Bryn went through his mirror, but when he tried to com
e back … the Ysbrydion pulled him back in – I saw it Dai, it was horrible.’ Dafydd finally succumbed to the burning in his stomach and leaned over and retched.
‘Where is he now?’ Dai was trying to make sense of what Dafydd was telling him. Dafydd wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Dead most proably, Dai. I saw it, me and Saw-Bones and Glyn-Guinea, we all watch it happen. I tried to pull him back – I tried.’ Dafydd sat down in the snow and hung his head between his knees.
Dai stood with his hands in the pockets of his green padded jacket, his wellington boots crunched in the snow as he shifted his weight and looked over his fields, trying to absorb what Dafydd had just told him. ‘Bloody bastards,’ he growled through clenched teeth, ‘they knew, they bloody knew!’ He kicked at the snow. ‘The Druids knew about the Ysbrydion but played it down and now look what’s happened! Get up Dafydd! Jump on the trailer, we’ve got to warn everyone!’
He grabbed at Dafydd’s hand and hauled him to his feet. Dai started the tractor and waved away his son’s shouts. ‘Hold on!’ he shouted over to his son and friend as he accelerated up the hill towards the farmhouse.
Glyn-Guinea already had hold of the phone and was calling everyone he knew. ‘Spread the word!’ He hung up and swung towards Dafydd and Dai as they rushed into the house. ‘No answer from the Williams or the Creuddyn’s farms, we’ll need to get word over in person, Gwyn’s not answering your phone either,’ he said to Dafydd.
‘Take the tractor, Dafydd.’ Dai threw the keys at his friend. ‘We’ll contact the Williamses, you get to the Creuddyns.’
‘No.’ Dafydd planted his feet and threw the keys back. ‘You’ll have to do it, I need to get to Gwyn, we’re going to Maen-Du.’
‘What?’ Dai couldn’t believe is ears. ‘How? Do you even know where the entrance to the Druid Halls is?’
