The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy

by Lowri Thomas

  Glyn-Guinea was momentarily taken aback by Nissyen’s deference, but he cleared his throat and removed the pipe from between his teeth as he emptied his pockets and held up a hastily folded map. ‘My Lords,’ he said, as he began to unfold his map, ‘without putting too fine a point on it, we’re all in deep sheep dip.’

  Elder Tomas blinked twice in surprise at Glyn-Guinea’s choice of words. ‘Why don’t you spread your map out on the table in front of King Aeron and explain what you mean – clearly explain.’

  Glyn-Guinea spread the map out on the low table and the Host leaned in to view it. He told them everything he had told Awel and when he had finished, the Host leaned back, silent and troubled.

  ‘Arawn,’ Aeron whispered.

  ‘That is not all,’ Nissyen interjected, ‘he is recruiting followers among the Druids.’

  ‘Hearsay!’ Elder Tomas was incensed that Nissyen would suggest such a thing in front of the Host. ‘Do not believe everything you hear, Nissyen.’

  ‘I do not,’ Nissyen snapped back, ‘but I believe my own eyes and ears. Cai is – was – one of them.’

  Elder Tomas was poleaxed at the implications. ‘What do you mean? Explain yourself. How do you know?’

  ‘Cai insisted he accompany me to a meeting.’ Nissyen stumbled on his sentence, keen not to be seen consorting behind Elder Tomas’ back. ‘A meeting with Chosen Elders to which I was summoned … Cai insisted he come and I allowed it, despite my suspicions.’ He turned to Aeron. ‘Cai bore a mark on his breast – a recent branding – a skull with horns. He now resides as a Helgi in the kennels.’

  There was a collective intake of breath from the Host. Celyn-Bach leaned back and studied the Druid. ‘You are certain Elder Nissyen? You saw this for yourself?’

  ‘Indeed I did, as did the Elder Chosen at the meeting.’ Nissyen motioned for Glyn-Guinea to concur.

  ‘I saw it, and heard his confession, and saw the damage from the Derwydd yn tân-’

  ‘Wait.’ Aeron held up his hand. He had heard this tale but wanted the Host to fully understand what the Chosen was saying. ‘Who wielded the Derwydd yn tan?’

  Glyn-Guinea, not used to such scrutiny finally succumbed to his habit and shoved his pipe firmly in his mouth before he spoke. ‘The young boy, Cai. He broke his bonds and threw fire at Elder Nissyen, set the barn on fire too, but we put it out-’

  Again, Aeron interrupted, leaning forward in his chair and fixing Glyn-Guinea with a penetrating stare. ‘Whose barn?’

  Glyn-Guinea squirmed under the examination; all eyes were fixed on him, the only one averting his gaze was Elder Nissyen. Clenching his pipe between his teeth Glyn-Guinea swallowed before whispering, ‘Gwyn Morgan’s barn.’ He dropped his head.

  The Host exchanged glances with one another; all knew Gwyn Morgan was Gwaradwyddedig: Shamed. All knew his sister was Anwen Morgan.

  The silence in the room was broken by Elder Tomas. ‘You were meeting with a Gwaradwyddedig? That is against our laws. Who gave you permission to do such a thing?’ He turned to Nissyen when Glyn-Guinea remained silent. ‘Explain yourself Elder Nissyen. What is the meaning of this?’

  Elder Nissyen leaned heavily on his ceremonial staff and lifted his wobbly head to defiantly meet Elder Tomas’ glare. ‘Awel Chan y Bant requested my presence personally. She arranged the meeting, calling us together: Bwy Hir, Druid and Chosen, and yes the Gwaradwyddedig too, her quest demanded our cooperation – all of us, together as one.’

  Elder Tomas stood with his mouth agape, lost for words. The Host murmured amongst themselves. Taliesin sat pensively, willing his father to look in his direction, but Aeron’s eyes were fixed on the fire once again. Finally, Elder Tomas tore his eyes from Nissyen and swivelled his head towards his king. ‘My Lord?’

  Aeron slowly turned from the fire, he leaned backwards to rest his head against the back of his chair and looked towards the ceiling. ‘Awel came to me for my permission to find Anwen Morgan of Ty Mawr Farm and return her and her child to the Dell. I did not give her permission to form a Triskele within a Triskele … although her intervention has enlightened us.’

  ‘It was a presumption before that Arawn knew of Anwen Morgan’s existence, but now it is fact. She was here in these Halls, swollen in pregnancy and bearing the mark of the Pride upon her head – all the Druids saw her.’ His voice raised a fraction. ‘Should he find them, he will be one step closer to taking permanent Bwy Hir form … he must be stopped.’

  His voice rose further as he slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair in frustration. ‘Did Awel not think Gwyn Morgan would be being watched by Arawn? She will lead him straight to Anwen Morgan! She will probably be taken herself! Had I known that Druids in these Halls were turncoats to Arawn’s cause I would never have let Awel go!’

  Taliesin jumped to his feet and stood in front of his father. ‘I must follow Awel, they are in danger – my son is in danger!’

  Aeron stayed seated. He raised one eyebrow and spoke with a soft voice barely containing his fury. ‘Your son, Taliesin?’

  The Host watched father and son in silence, none wishing to step into the chasm between them. The silent fury emanating from Aeron was as palpable as Taliesin’s desperation. Taliesin lifted his chin, gathering every shred of courage he could muster before answering his father. ‘I have a son. I have always known he would be male. I sensed it from the beginning.’

  Aeron studied his son. Is that a lie? Does my son have the gift of foresight? Aeron doubted it; else Taliesin would never have been foolish enough to mate with a Human in the first place. ‘Are you in contact with Anwen Morgan? Do you know where she is?’ Aeron watched for any hint of a lie.

  ‘I do not, but I do know she was being helped by a woman the last time I found her. The woman lived in a place called London – that is surely where Awel will head first.’ Taliesin met his father’s stare. ‘You must let me go, you said yourself Awel is in danger and so is my son. Please,’ he implored, ‘let me go.’

  Aeron’s voice dripped ice. ‘Before you consider running off, perhaps you would consider this: if Arawn has recruited as many followers as I now fear, then it is probable that every Cerdd Carega from here to our borders will be watched. Again, if I had been informed earlier I would never have let Awel go in the first place.’

  Aeron held his hand up to stall Taliesin’s impending interruption. ‘I have not finished … Furthermore, as Prince of the Winter Realm you should be more concerned with the news set out before us: the Druids have been infiltrated and our stronghold is at risk. Everything we do, everything that is said in the Halls of Maen-Du is at risk of filtering back to our enemy.’

  ‘Not to mention the fact that should we suffer another assault from Arawn’s forces then we already have his minions ready to strike from within.’ Aeron inhaled deeply, desperately trying to control the fire raging within. ‘As Prince your duty is here. Set aside Anwen Morgan and her child for the time being and concentrate on how we weed the Druid turncoats from our ranks.’ Taliesin retook his seat, barely containing his own anger. He was no match for his father, so Taliesin seethed in silence.

  ‘Aeron is right.’ Celyn-Bach filled the silence. ‘We must first discover how many of the Druids have turned to Arawn’s cause and deal with that threat before any more of us set out to follow Awel.’ He turned to the Elders, who had frozen during Aeron’s and Taliesin’s altercation. ‘Tell me, are there only Druids who have succumbed to Arawn’s cause, or have Chosen too joined his ranks?’

  Elder Tomas exchanged glances while Glyn-Guinea chewed on his answer. ‘I’d not thought of it before. I’ve heard none of the Chosen speaking well of Arawn, if at all. You see, until I discovered the abandoned farms …’ He tried to choose his words carefully, but as was his nature, he spoke from his heart. ‘Arawn isn’t – or should I say wasn’t – a concern of the Chosen. So much has been kept from us, the truth hidden, and with the mirrors being out of bounds, well, the gap between us has widened. We have been kept in the dark r
egarding the possible threat to us from Arawn, and to be perfectly honest, I still know damn little … what exactly is going on? Who is Arawn? What does he want? How do we stop him?’

  Gwrnach liked the little man standing before him, liked his honesty and so he barked a laugh. ‘Who indeed!’ he said chuckling. ‘You see our error, brothers? We have discounted the Chosen and allowed the gap between their world and ours to grow too wide.’ His face grew serious for a moment. ‘Our fear of Ysbrydion has broken the link between Druid and Chosen. We fear to open the Dderwydd Ddrych and so set the Chosen adrift.

  ‘I did not know of any Chosen farms being abandoned or the folk there taken or murdered. We looked to our own concerns and allowed the Druids to falter in their duties. I mean no disrespect, Elder Tomas, Elder Nissyen, but we have allowed the Druids to go about their business as they please and were only interested to receive news of the Ysbrydion or Arawn himself. We even discount the Pride, happy to see them locked behind the walls of the Dell.’

  ‘The Pride are protected there,’ Bran barked across the room.

  ‘Protected.’ Gwrnach snorted. ‘They are captive. Without voice. Only Awel has had the good sense to break her shackles and do the one thing our broken Triskele does not.’

  ‘And what is that?’ Aeron raised an arrogant eyebrow.

  ‘Fight back – act; not react.’ Gwrnach held his ground, unruffled by Aeron’s glare. ‘We are the Triskele. Arawn is nothing, a ghost in a Druid’s ailing body. So why do we cower behind our walls?’ Gwrnach stood up, his belly full of fire and righteousness. ‘I say we take the fight to Arawn. Finish this for the sake of us all.’

  Bran stood up too, infected by Gwrnach’s passion. ‘I agree. Let us wheedle out the Druid turncoats and unite against our enemy!’

  Rumbles of approval filled the room. Aeron was not to be so easily swayed with such a fervent speech. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and smiled a cold, calculated smile. ‘And where do we set our battle lines, Gwrnach? We can’t even find Arawn’s stronghold and if he is hiding where I think he is hiding, then our forces cannot reach him.’

  That brought chagrin to Gwrnach and Bran who were still standing. ‘And how do we “wheedle out the turncoats” without alerting Arawn to our discovery? You speak of Druid turncoats, but what of the Chosen? What of ourselves?’ He waited patiently but as expected, he received no answer. Aeron sighed deeply as he stood. He moved away from the fireplace and towards his balcony, drinking in the view of the mountain range beyond. He turned slowly to address the gathering. ‘Our troubles are many-fold, my brothers. We have built our walls too high just to discover our foundations are weak. We must rebuild. And this is how …’

  The Host listened intently as Aeron unfolded his plan. The Elder Druids and the solitary Chosen nodded as they received their instructions.

  ‘We are not alone,’ Aeron concluded, ‘we have alliances we overlooked. We must unite.’ He drew himself up to his full height, ‘I am the Winter King. Let the skies broil and the mountains quake, the Triskele goes to war.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Awel handed Gwyn an apple and a wedge of cheese from her satchel as they sat together side by side on a stony outcrop, looking out across the sea towards the distant horizon, watching the sun slowly rise, changing night into day. Bara was stretched out on the grass, resting her head on her paws as she dozed.

  ‘Where are we?’ Gwyn asked as he accepted the fruit from Awel’s outstretched hand, rubbing it on his shirt front before biting into it.

  Awel consulted the small scroll resting on her knees. ‘According to the map, we are in South Rhedeg, from here we travel to Elmet.’

  They had travelled through the night, passing through one Cerdd Carega to make a short walk to another and so on, until they had arrived on the high, craggy bluff where they now rested. Gwyn found the passing through each Cerdd Carega grew less disorientating with each jump. He still felt the terrible dragging sensation but he no longer felt dizzy and sick. Gwyn wrinkled his nose. ‘I’ve never heard of those places. How old is your map?’

  Awel gazed at her map and back to Gwyn. ‘The map is new, I drew it myself, but the knowledge is ancient. Does that answer your question?’

  Gwyn shrugged his shoulders. ‘Those places – Rhedeg, Elmet – they don’t exist now. That’s all. I don’t know where we are. England maybe?’ He shrugged his shoulders again.

  ‘The places exist, Gwyn Morgan.’ Awel rolled up the scroll and returned it to her satchel. ‘Only the names change.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain where we are.’ Gwyn drew back his arm and threw his apple core away. ‘How far away from London are we?’

  ‘London? Four, maybe five stones away,’ Awel answered absently as she stretched her mind outwards, ensuring they were alone on the hilltop.

  ‘Then what? What if she’s not in London when we get there?’ Gwyn squinted as the morning sun grew brighter, warming the air.

  ‘We’re not going to Llundain, or London as you name it.’ Awel slowly opened her eyes.

  ‘Then where’re we going?’ Gwyn was confused. Awel always confused him.

  ‘To find Anwen.’ A small smile played on her lips.

  ‘But I thought Anwen was in London?’

  ‘Mary was in London,’ Awel corrected. ‘No-one knows where Anwen is.’

  ‘So how do we find her? Where are we going?’ Gwyn’s confusion increased. ‘Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Peace, Gwyn Morgan.’ Awel held up her hands. ‘Let me explain … I do not yet know where your sister is – yet. We go in search of someone who can help us find her.’

  ‘Who? Awel, what is going on?’ Gwyn turned to face her and Bara lifted her head, tipping it to one side, listening.

  Awel sighed before answering, a look of mischief in her eyes. ‘We go to meet someone who can locate Anwen for us. After that, the rest will be up to you.’

  ‘Who? Where?’ Gwyn struggled to his feet. ‘How do they know where she is?’

  ‘They don’t … yet.’ Awel opened her satchel and held out a neatly folded envelope. ‘But they will once they have this.’

  ‘What is it?’ Gwyn recoiled from the envelope. With Awel, you never knew what you were getting.

  Awel rolled her eyes and returned the envelope to the safety of her satchel. ‘I have some of Anwen’s hair. I was foresighted enough to pick it up from the Dell when Gwrnach … well, when Anwen was marked as one of the Pride.’

  ‘The tattoo on her head you mean?’ Gwyn whistled through his teeth. ‘Dad was fuming when he saw what you lot had done to her.’ He clamped his mouth shut. Thoughts of his father were always accompanied with a crushing wave of grief; even after four years, the pain had never subsided.

  Awel dropped her gaze and concentrated on readjusting the satchel strap. ‘She saved the Pride, Gwyn. She risked her life. Your father would have been proud of that.’

  Gwyn cleared his throat and looked out across the sea. ‘You can’t go over it, can you? The sea, I mean, you’re forbidden. Why?’

  Awel allowed the silence to stretch between them and closed her eyes, once again stretching her mind outwards, testing, probing - they were still alone. ‘We hold to the covenants. God said that the Nephilim must not cross the seas. He raised them so we became cut off and scattered. I don’t know if there are more of us out there, but if there are, the Druids have not found them … The Bwy Hir stands alone.’

  Gwyn sat back down on the dewy grass. ‘But there are more of you in y Gwag, right? That’s where this Arawn came from – back from the dead. So you don’t really die then – Bwy Hir, I mean – you become spirits and go to y Gwag. Only he’s come back and is mad as hell. Am I right?’

  Awel smiled at Gwyn’s simple reasoning. ‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘Arawn is “mad as hell” and he wants his kingdom back. He wants to replace Aeron and I presume start where he left off many centuries ago, but that tale is long in the telling and we have not the time … Come, we still have far to t
ravel.’

  She started to rise, but Gwyn had another question. ‘Are they all nasty – in y Gwag? Or are there good spirits too?’

  Awel was pleased; Gwyn had a bright mind when he chose to use it. ‘Indeed there are good spirits too. Artio among them.’ It was her turn to mourn the loss of a loved one.

  Gwyn stood up and Bara followed, wagging her tail as they made their way to the next Cerdd Carega. ‘Awel, when we get where we’re going, will I be able to get some rest? I haven’t slept since the night before last.’

  ‘Yes, there will be time for you to rest … if time is on our side.’

  ‘Good, ‘cause to be honest, I’m bloody knackered.’

  Awel laughed in spite of herself. ‘As am I, Gwyn Morgan, as am I.’

  They walked on through the early morning, making a straight line through open scrub lands until they came to the next Cerdd Carega. Unlike the others Gwyn had seen, this stone was pale sandstone, older somehow and worn smooth by the elements, even the spiral carved on its face was almost indistinguishable.

  Gwyn automatically grabbed Bara’s collar and raised his hand to Awel, ready for the sensation of travelling to begin, but Awel paused, freezing mid step. She turned her head left and right, searching her surroundings and then she saw it, a flicker of movement. Awel was stunned at what she saw – smaller than Helgi, sleeker, faster and more ferocious. ‘It cannot be,’ she breathed. In an instant she spun and grabbed hold of Gwyn’s arm, pushing at the stone with all her will. They vanished.

  Awel spun to face the stone as soon as they landed at their destination. Holding up her staff and opening her hand ready to launch an attack at the next thing through, she stood poised to strike. Gwyn stumbled and stood behind her ready to fight, Bara stood at his side, her hackles lining the ridge of her back as she snarled and growled.

  ‘What is it?’ Gwyn stammered, breathing hard.

  ‘Something that should not be!’ Awel braced herself. ‘Cwn Annwn. Hounds from y Gwag. Arawn bred them when he ruled the forests long ago. Artur slaughtered them all after Arawn’s death, sending them to y Gwag with him. They should not be. They were destroyed.’