Prydein’s
Druids had drawn into a vast marquee, to assemble a national conclave of
priests to discuss the invasion. Before Meleri could bring the huge
meeting to order, she collapsed to the ground, falling into a deep
unconsciousness. She was rushed away then to the Druidens for treatment and it
was decided that at this most crucial point in time, she had been brought low
by magic. Lady Karych was certain it smelled of foul Iweriu magic but that it was
so intense and constant, it must be emanating from somewhere nearby but more
worryingly, wrought by some malign being with immense power.
The
Uati triplets Cerwen, Corsen and Cragen were brought forward and they joined
hands, making a circle on the grass where Lady Meleri had fallen. They turned
at first sunwise, chanting an indecipherable prayer in their strange way; 1, 2,
3. They stopped then, their eyes rolling back in their heads and they were
still for long moments, their hands still joined. Their eyes rolled back into
view again and they began to turn against the sun then, chanting the same
incantation 1, 2, 3 but backwards. Even the words were spoken backwards one
after another, one two and three. They stopped again, and their eyes whitened
once more. More long moments passed, before their gaze returned and the three
little girls broke the circle, turning to face west along the coast and they
all pointed ominously in that direction, 1, 2, 3 thin fingers of unassailable
accusation.
“In
a cave of blackest pitch is he there hidden, where spiteful, biting minions do his bidding.” They
spoke almost as one in their unnerving way. “An ancient heart wizened black and
foul, as dark and cruel as his western troll.” Their voices smudged into one
another’s as they spoke in identical voices, a pause apart. “A deed so vulgar
be in play, with bile and vengeance in a Godless way, with spite and bloodied
gimlet eye, to harm our hallowed Priesthood and steal a bold sarhaed!” They
intoned one, two, three.
Einion
and his two subordinate Druids had called on their Gorddofic military to
support them in their search for this dread Iweriu wizaerd, who had obviously
taken-up temporary residence in one of the caves in the cliffs to the west, as
his magic was ongoing and taking a huge and mortal toll on the Brif-Druiden of
Prydein. However, no ordinary force would suffice, as there were rigid
conventions and strict requirements to combat such powerful magic and Lady
Karych and the three Arch-Druids outlined their needs to the two fearsome Dewin;
King Lludd Llaw Ereint and his powerful nephew Prince Gwerdded ap Nynniaw.
Three
famous legends arrived together at the pavilions of the House Selgofa; King
Gwerdded ap Nynniaw, the imposing ghost-warrior Olwydd Hîr and the even bigger
and menacing Crown Prince Afallach ap Lludd, fearsome leader of the Essyllyr.
These three renowned warriors had come for Cadwy and his cyfail and arriving at
the Albion pavilion, they caused quite a stir, piling up the Bri of these young Royals by their
presence alone and the large canvas tent was cleared swiftly, to much excited
chatter and speculation. Following some serious discussion and repeated
instruction, twenty-two men were sent forth on this sacred and vital mission,
to save their spiritual and religious leader. The senior Druids and Druidens
had known that only Calon Lân, warriors
with pure hearts, could hope to brave the powerful magic they would surely face
and to survive the encounter with their wits and honour intact. A pack of war
hounds sent into the cave had been suggested, to much shared enthusiasm but was
soon dismissed by Lady Karych with a sage shake of her head.
“Dogs
can be possessed and turned. The loyal and familiar hounds you send in, will
not be the same creatures which come tearing back out, with only one thing on
their spell-bound minds - attacking you!” She barked, pointing to the proposer,
who inspected his worn shoes studiously as his face reddened.
Eleven
were chosen and to be led by the Gorddofic Princely Dewin Gwerdded, supported
by the three Arch Druids; Einion, Guron and Drem, with the spiritual might of
the three Uati triplets adding their fearsome powers to the sacred alliance.
Bleddyn, Hefin and Ioddo, Cadwy’s three remaining cyfail will join him,
making-up the sacred number of eleven. The Dewin-King Lludd Llaw Ereint led the
honour-guard, with Olwydd Hîr and Brith Fawr in military support, along with a
company of eight seasoned Essyllyr warriors with their snaking red-dragon
shields and long, razor-sharp spears. This mighty and protective force of
eleven renowned fighters, would seal the entrance of this cave when they found
it, prepared for any attempted escape and they would make a daunting barrier.
The
eleven holy warriors who would enter the cave and kill all within, had been
washed and blessed and flowers woven into their hair. They were armed with just
their long Brythonic honour daggers, whose blades had also been washed and
sanctified. Their courage, their pure hearts and a necklace of red mistletoe
each further armed them. Led by the awesome Dewin who seemed to glow with an
ethereal power this day, these four earnest young men of Albion walked together
in one group, behind the Uati triplets. The Druids were at the rear with Cadwy
and his men in the centre, whilst their eleven protectors surrounded them like
a walking shield, as no one could be allowed to touch them and corrupt their
spiritual grace. This marching force set-forth, to subdued and respectful
applause from a large crowd of nobles and werrin alike, which had gathered to
wish them well and they were festooned with petals of wild flowers and prayers,
as they passed solemnly from the camp.
Cerwen
Corsen and Cragen led this force along the coast in single-file, passing many
gaping black holes in the cliff-side walls without a sideways glance, until
they left the gravel and crossed a small stream, which emptied into the sea
there and where they passed onto a long and broad stretch of soft sandy beach.
Even as they did everything one after another so precisely, most of these
blessed and anointed warriors following were amazed to see only one set of
clean footprints in the wake of the Uati triplets, and they did this with the
utmost, thoughtless ease. At the furthest end of this beach, the black and
gaping maw of a cave beckoned and a flock of crows erupted from the beach
around the mouth of this cave at their approach, cawing and screaming their
warnings as they took flight. The triplets headed unerringly toward this cave
across the sand, and it seemed at last that they had found their quarry.
On
this beach four miles west of the Roman invasion site Cadwy paused to stoop
unnecessarily, as he followed Prince Gwerdded into the dark mouth of the cave.
He almost caused Bleddyn to walk into him and stab him in the buttock, but it
was timely, as thousands of bats exploded from the cave at that moment,
followed by their foul stench. Undeterred, they entered the foreboding mouth of
this cave as the flapping rush petered out and moved into its cavernous interior.
Once their eyes adjusted to the gloom, it wasn’t as dark as they had first
feared, and they stepped nervously onto a damp sandy floor and spread out. The
chamber was wide and irregular in shape, but it narrowed to a tall and narrow
cleft in the rock at the back, leading to a chamber beyond. They were all in
this ante-chamber now and the walls of the cave were marked here and there with
the remnants of ancient paintings, put here by the old people long before the
age of the Long-Slaughter, or even Pen-Agr and their great age was verified
by their faded remains. The paintings on the roof were more substantial still
but were sooty from the countless thousands of campfires they had witnessed,
but the floor was even and sloped upwards slightly as they moved further in.
“Draw
your blades and spread out now to within dagger-range of each other and be
ready for anything!” Gwerdded said quietly, drawing his own fabulously jewelled
Brythonic honour dagger and crouching slightly.
“Like
a plate of whelks and a log of beer?” Bleddyn whispered and all heads turned to
him with hard eyes. Cadwy just sighed and shook his head. “What I’m hungry?” The
bearded champion added with a pained look, before shrugging and drawing his own
foot-long blade.
“That
is the cave’s real entrance and what awaits us, lies in there.” The Dewin
Prince told them licking his lips and ignoring the Pencampwr’s levity, knowing
it stemmed from his nervousness. “Light the torches.” He said quietly and Hefin
struck flint against iron and in moments each man grasped a roaring living
torch of flame in his left hand, raised up to light their way. “Whatever comes
at us, use your blades as they have been sanctified and will serve us well but
whatever you do, do not let anything bite you!” Gwerdded said seriously,
catching the eye of each person to make sure they understood him. “Protect each
other and trust in Lug, Brigida and Sulis who’s holy triad protects us here
today, as their earth, fire and water elements are fundamental and cannot be
corrupted or swayed.” He added confidently and all kissed iron, sending their
prayers to the three sacred cornerstones of their ancient faith. “But know this
too, every creature in this base and corrupt coracle of stone are doomed and we
must slay all living things we discover here today, so harden your hearts and
follow me.” He said this with a grimace and stepped carefully toward the
opening at the back of this cave. The group moved forward with him nervously and
as their torchlight flickered, it animated the dark shadows and the ancient,
stick-like figures which leapt and cavorted on the walls.
Cadwy
was next through the wide cleft behind Gwerdded and he blinked in the stygian
void of this large inner chamber, but the sputtering light from their two
torches couldn’t penetrate further than about twenty feet. The unseen perimeter
ahead was impenetrable, as the darkness had an unreal density, which seemed to
absorb or rebuff their light. With a vague smell of mushrooms hanging in the musty
air, the rest of the eleven holy warriors shuffled in behind them and even with
all-eight bright burning torches in the cavern, the shadows around the
rubble-strewn edges fought back, condensing and shifting eerily into the
deepest of denser shadows which no light could penetrate.
Through
the gloom, they could see this enormous shadowy bowl of a chamber was filled
with long tapering stalagmites and stalactites, giving it the impression of a
huge and sharply toothed mouth of some gargantuan undersea monster. Some of
these deeply ringed and ridged stalagmites were as tall as Cadwy, matched by
some equally massive opposites descending from the roof and these dripped
constantly. In the centre of the chamber was a waisted column of rippled and
wet looking rock which Cadwy realised was a meeting pair of these amazing
formations, but there was plenty of room between all these formations and the
five warriors, three priests and three prophets stepped carefully between them.
“Over
there!” Hefin whispered, pointing to a black opening in the rough stone of the
right-hand wall and which had been hidden behind a large and fat, conical
stalagmite. The black and foreboding cleft in the rock Hefin pointed out was as
tall and as wide as a man. Strangely just as they focused on this dark cleft, the
eerie sounds of children started to emanate from it, so they held back in
confusion.
Cadwy
and his cyfail shared perplexed looks, as it was quite a number of really young children by the sound of their
delighted chatter and they seemed to be approaching from the darkness beyond this
deeply shadowed opening. The Uati triplets began to seethe and hiss quietly like angry cats at this
sound however and it raised the hair at Cadwy’s neck. To his amazement, it was
indeed little children who began to clamber through that cleft in the rock and
all looked to be around the age of four or five, dressed in swaddling. These
giggling, happy toddlers began to totter over to these startled warriors, their
arms as wide as their smiles.
All
these young and honourable men stood rooted in disbelief as Gwerdded suddenly
stepped forwards with a beguiling swiftness, to strike the first adorable and chubby
little boy with his blade, who was running to him with an angelic face and was gurgling
in joy. They drew sharp breaths as at the split-second before the Dewin’s blade
struck, the beautiful little boy changed in a flash, to a monstrous and hateful
dwarf-troll with the most hideous wrinkled face, twisted with a malevolent
hatred. Its ugly visage was punctured by burning, coal-black eyes and festooned
below these were two a rows of large and sharp teeth, which protruded from its
filthy and drooling, ragged mouth. Gwerdded’s blade flashed through the throat
of this troll and the little beast fell, rolling away and gurgling its death.
Then the others attacked.
There
was no more subterfuge and these monstrous trolls no longer looked like
adorable babies, just the opposite and the snarling little monsters flooded through
the black hole and scampered forwards to attack them. Flaming torches and
sacred Brythonic steel flashed in this suddenly frantic cave and young legs
danced away from slashing venomous tooth and claw. These sanctified,
high-stepping killers slayed the dwarf trolls as they came at them but it was
no easy slaughter, as they were incredibly quick and agile and the slavering,
sharpened teeth terrified them all. A larger example of these bestial little
terrors with glowing red eyes, leapt into the air and bounced off the huge
waisted pillar in the centre of the chamber, flying through the pungent air
with his poisonous teeth flashing toward the back of Cadwy’s neck. Sanctified steel
flashed in the gloom and Cadwy felt an enormous thump to his back and he spun around in alarm. Ioddo stood there
with a foully bloodied blade and the leader of these monsters lay dead at his
feet, vile slivers of noxious slime running from its open mouth. This bloodied
gunk dribbled over its razor sharp, venomous teeth and onto the floor of the
cave. Cadwy looked at Ioddo then with wide, thankful eyes and his handsome
friend just winked at him with a grin, and both realised that the battle was
over.
“Was
anyone bitten?” Gwerdded asked them all anxiously, breathing deeply, his right
arm dripping foul foreign blood and the cave was littered with dead Iweriu
minions.
The
eleven spirit warriors checked themselves then and each other carefully for any
sight of a bite but mercifully they were all untouched. A rumble from the dark
opening brought their wide-eyes back to that black pout in the rock wall and
their jaws dropped, as a huge and monstrous figure was trying to push his great
jaundiced limbs through the opening, tugging and tearing at the crumbling stone
to get through. Whatever that thing was, it was huge and incredibly strong, and
it began smashing the rocks away to enlarge the hole.
This
doughty group looked-on in stunned silence, as something with the most enormous
misshapen limbs was trying to escape its lair and attack them. With an
unnatural screech, it became enraged and smashed a huge chunk of stone from the
rock wall and then clambered through to stand on enormous flat feet, each
almost as big as a Brythonic shield. There standing before them, was the
biggest man-creature any of them had ever seen. This lumpen, yellow-skinned
horror had a blank, leering expression on its round and empty face, with tiny
little vicious eyes, deep-set in deeply pockmarked skin, giving the appearance
of buttered porridge. It had a huge bald head, miniature ears and the thing
stood well over seven feet tall. It was so heavily but shapelessly muscled, it
looked unfinished in some primordial, gargantuan way and its fingers were as
thick as yellow blood-sausages. This monster began to move toward them then,
stepping heavily between the calcified cones and grinning mindlessly.
“Iweriu
cave troll!” Gwerdded breathed, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Arglwydd Lug,
Brigida and Sulis protect us all!” He prayed, backing away from this huge beast
which approached them menacingly. “The only way in which we will kill this
mindless beast, is to pierce him with all our blades at once. But it has to be exact or it will have no effect, apart
from driving the thing wild and that wouldn’t be advisable in here.” The Dewin
Prince advised them hurriedly, looking around at them and this colonnaded
chamber, the look on his face enough to worry them all. “Spread out and
encircle it, but you must wait until we are all in position to strike and I
will call-out the moment, but do not hesitate when I do. It matters not where we stab it, as long as we do it
precisely as one!” He added hurriedly, as the thing broke into a shambling run toward
him. They were all horrified at how quickly this thing could move and the cave
shook with the thundering footsteps of its huge flat feet, as it began to chase
them around the stalagmites.
All
these warriors and priests had to be on their toes to stay out of the
creature’s path and they used their agility, teamwork and their torches to
distract and dodge the beast. The troll soon became more enraged with this and
started to smash the stone formations apart with his enormous fists, and sharp
shards of these shattering deposits slashed into them, cutting them and drawing
blood. The triplet girls spat curses at the beast 1, 2, 3, as they flitted like
gwyllion between it and the rocks.
The beast seemed to flinch at each hatefully delivered triple-oath and it
opened its horrible mouth then and screeched at the three girls, smashing
another hanging stalactite to pieces toward them and the girls scattered,
dodging flying shrapnel. This hideous troll looked around itself then,
bellowing like a bull and choosing which of these circling humans it would
attack next.
“NOW!”
Gwerdded shouted and they all dived-in and stabbed the beast, before scrambling
away quickly, even the Uati triplets making their vicious stabs into the
leathery skin of this monstrosity, before skipping away. The only effect it
had, was to drive this dribbling giant insane with rage and it started to
windmill its thick yellow arms around, smashing all in its path, and they dived
for cover behind the shattered stumps of this cave’s great teeth.
This
monstrous, jaundiced creature careered around this chamber with eleven puncture
marks on its hideous body, each leaking a thick dark liquid. It manically
pursued one and then the other as they dodged around it and its vacillation
saved them, as it was too stupid to make a decision and chase just one person
down. Gwerdded flashed the girls a quick look, but it was enough, and they
nodded 1, 2 and 3 and it was this lifelong predilection which had scuppered
their attack. Although it went against every fibre in their closely-linked
beings, the girls would have to strike as one, or all would be lost. They
shared a long moment of conjoined thought and then nodded to the Dewin in the
confirmation he sought.
Cadwy
and his two comrades flanked the triplets in protection, but the Druids needed
none as they were as fierce as any warriors.
“We’re
almost there!” Cadwy shouted to them, as all eleven had dodged and darted
around the monstrous troll until once more, they surrounded the beast.
“Now!”
Gwerdded roared again and they darted-in once more, striking like snakes. There
was a jarring shock and a bright yellow flash at the moment of contact, and
they were all thrown clear of the beast, knowing that they had this time struck
as one.
As
they picked themselves up from the rock-littered floor of this cave, the girls
were first on their feet and the bloated-limbed and yellowish carcass that lay
on the ground before them, leaked from twenty-two different wounds, eleven of
which smoked. The thing was outrageous and an almost overpowering stench
emanated from this huge troll now, like a rotting bovine carcass and they stood
staring at this fallen creature with awe-stricken looks. They massaged their
right arms as the shocking tingling subsided and grimaced at the rank stench
but Cerwen, Corsen and Cragen were not looking at the creature they had just
killed however, as now they stood on one leg, hand-in-hand and their eyeballs white
and blank, whilst each right index finger pointed at the ominous black fissure
in the rock.
“Cawg y Dialwr! Cawg y Dialwr! Cawg y Dialwr!” They stammered, pointing at the entrance to the ‘lair
of the demon’ and its unwelcoming, stygian hole.
“Now
we can approach the wizaerd, but I warn you, do not be tempted to say anything
to him, not one word, as if you engage this dread creature in any way you offer
him an avenue into your very soul.” Einion advised them gravely and Gwerdded
nodded his agreement. The deepest shadows in the chamber ahead danced in
anticipation at the Druid’s softly spoken words and they headed for this
dreaded opening now, pale and shaken.
Gwerdded
was the first through this cleft which had been so roughly enlarged by the
yellow beast they had just vanquished. It seemed as if the light from his torch
was sucked into a dark void, before it had time to illuminate anything. They
all clambered-in behind him except the three girls and Guron, who stood guard
over them in the wrecked chamber with his torch. The remaining seven holy
warriors of Lady Meleri spread into a crescent in this inner lair and held
their torches up. The triplet Uati stood outside this dark void with their arms
wide and still holding hands. Their eyes were blank, back in their heads and
they searched the ether, as the seven engaged the wizaerd inside and hopefully
distracted him enough for them to discover what they sought. All they needed to
do, was pluck from this swirling, spiritual ether they work-in daily the true
name of this wicked ancient and reveal it. Once spoken aloud by them three
times, his power would vanish in a trice and they could capture him and bring him before their dread Lord, to answer for his foul deed.
Cadwy
was breathing deeply but disappointed with what he found in this cave. The
chamber was interesting enough in itself, as it had a spring-fed pool in the
centre with a black surface like polished electrum. The surface of this pool
bulged slightly, as if held in tension from the wellspring deep below it. One
long and perfectly formed stalactite stretched down from the ceiling and almost
kissed the surface of this eternal pool, directly in the centre and it dripped
once then. Beautiful concentric rings flowed out from the centre of the sacred
pool from this single drip but vanished quickly, as if subdued somehow and
dragged under. It was clear this was a sacred place and the ancients had
obviously thought so too, as the walls and ceilings were covered in their
paintings and they were sharp and pristine, as though painted yesterday and
there were many mystical, unreadable symbols everywhere.
A
crude altar had been erected out of driftwood and this leaned against the far
wall, festooned with shrivelled offerings, amid the bones of all manner of
small creatures and a myriad small skulls. A few reeds from this horror was a
well-established fire, ringed with black glistening stones which looked wet in
the struggling torchlight. Between the two, was a tiny figure on the ground, on
his knees and folded forwards in prostration. Two thin and bony arms were flung
out ahead of him on the same ground, in abject submission. Slowly and carefully
the seven moved across the dark cave then, four going left around the pool led
by Gwerdded, whilst Cadwy and the other two moved to the right. The fire
crackled loudly and malevolently as they approached, but the creature didn’t
move from his submissive position. Suddenly the cave was plunged into utter
blackness, as the torches and the fire all died in a heartbeat and in that same
fearful heartbeat, the air was filled with flying demons.
They
threw their useless, sputtering torches to the ground and began slashing with
their daggers at these almost unseen things, which were like ghostly black wraiths.
These flying demons had some substance however diaphanous, as they brushed past
with a searing icy touch which left burning welts of pain behind them.
“Make
some sounds so we know where everyone is!” Hefin yelled from the blackness, and
a ghostly hair-raising moaning arose from these shadow-wraiths then as the
warriors furiously tried to cut them, but no edge touched anything of real
substance. They didn’t have to call to each other continually, as their yelps
of pain identified them in the blackness, also giving voice to the panic
beginning to well-up in these valiant warriors.
Abruptly
a lurid and piercing light shattered the stygian gloom like the sword of Bel,
but it had a strange pinkish hue and emanated strongly from a glass jar, held
aloft by the Dewin-Prince Gwerdded ap Nynniaw. His young but hard face looked
ghostly in its eerie glow, but he wielded it purposefully and its effect was
immediate. The shadow-wraiths were repelled with force from this dread light
and they departed with agonising shrieks, as these pink shafts of piercing pain
destroyed their grip on this world and the awful moaning departed with them.
The
ancient, toothless and withered head came up then, it too rendered horrific by
the sharp-edged shadows cast by the Dewin’s piercing pink glow, which seemed to
cause the wizard a deal of distress.
“Ahhh,
Gwerdded ap Nynniaw ap Beli ap Manogan ap Eneid ap Cerwyd ap Crydon, the latest
in the long bloodline and future PenDragon of your order! I felt your power
Lord.” The desiccated and wrinkled creature lisped eerily, as if a snake was
speaking from somewhere else in this cave, slithering around. It made the scalp
creep and raised gooseflesh on the arms. “You and your noble Brittans have defeated
me Lord but I am only a toothless old man from Auteini. Will you greet me son
of Nynniaw, grandson of great Beli Mawr himself? Speak my name Lord and I shall
honour you and depart!” The sibilant hiss
challenged Gwerdded from another dark corner, begging the question of him.
Gwerdded
turned to his comrades at these words, holding a finger to his lips in
reminder, as Cadwy and his cyfail nodded in wide-eyed thanks. The wizard
dropped his ugly head, as he had been foiled again and the snake cackled
bitterly from somewhere in the shadows.
The
staggered mutterings of the three girls grew from outside then, with a repeated
chant. “Torri Swyn! Torri Swyn! Torri
Swyn!” ‘Break the spell’, they demanded over and over and over 1, 2, 3 and
the wizaerd’s head came up again at this confusing, unending babble. There was
the most devilish look on his cruel face at that moment, as it seemed this smeared
chanting disturbed him immensely. Gwerdded took a careful step toward the
wizaerd and held the light closer to him and the crone began to groan then in
the pink glow, dropping his head and shaking it from side to side, as if
something or someone was trying to penetrate his mind.
A
hand from Gwerdded stopped everyone in their tracks and they watched, as the
triplets battled the wizard from the other chamber. The atmosphere and the fire
crackled at this spiritual and psychological combat, which whirled around them and
a strange, hair-raising electricity crackled with it.
“Torri
Swyn! Torri Swyn! Torri Swyn!” Echoed its blurred way around this cave, howling
round and around 1, 2, 3 and as its volume rose alarmingly, it staggered the
senses. This struggle went on for seemingly interminable, endless minutes as if
time itself stood still, as the Gods wrestled with their consciences in the
Underworld. Nobody dared move, as things felt balanced on a razor’s edge and
Einion and Drem stood tall then and closed their eyes, holding hands and adding
their own powers to the struggle. Gwerdded nodded to Cadwy then and they began
to speak the words they had practiced.
“Arglwydd
Lug, Arglwydd Brigida and Arglwydd Sulis, we pray for the power of your holy
triad here and now!” They spoke in a nervous, broken manner.
“Arglwydd
Lug, Arglwydd Brigida and Arglwydd Sulis, we pray for the power of your holy
triad here and now!” They said more in unison and with more authority and
Gwerdded nodded his encouragement. They all stood tall then and repeated the
sacred entreaty loudly over and over, adding to the swirling maelstrom of sound
and smeared words from the girls, roaring around this cave and every person was
thus engaged and felt the subtle change. It was the merest shift in the
indefinable, invisible power-struggle taking place in this cavern but it was
felt by all and they were buoyed by the spiritual gain. The crone on the floor
began to shake and vibrate and he groaned even louder then and suddenly his
head shot up again. His red blazing eyes locked on the black exit and his foul
and ancient, toothless mouth hung slack and dribbling, as a triple-shout erupted
from the Uati girls.
“Ri-Draoîth
Bîr!” They exclaimed loudly, excitedly naming him once, “Ri-Draoîth Bîr!” They
named him twice, just as loudly. “Ri.…”
The
wizaerd then threw a handful of dust onto the embers of the fire and it
exploded with a loud BANG! It blazed
into a brilliant, blinding white nova and completely drowned out the final words
of power. This flash seared their eyeballs and floored them all with its
concussion, its boom echoing around the inner chamber, round and around, subduing
all other sound and spinning the senses. A huge billowing and animated cloud of
acrid white smoke filled this chamber, swirling around at great speed too, and
chasing the fading echoes as if it were alive and seeking an exhaust. As it
swirled around the chamber, one lick of it seemed to find the crevice and as if
it was sucked out by a gigantic and unseen mouth, this active smoke whooshed out
of the hole. As its belly swirled in tightening coils in the chamber and swept
toward the opening, Gwerdded suddenly lashed-out with his dagger and they all
heard a cry of pain from somewhere, but when they looked around, the smoke was
all gone and so was the wizard.
Coughing
and spluttering, these heroic warriors tumbled out of the outer cave and onto
the beach, falling to their knees gratefully in the soft sand. The triplets and
the Druids came out behind them into the sunshine and stood to one side
impassively. Cerwen, Corsen and Cragen looked pale and a little shaken but with
their hands enjoined, their sum was always greater than the individual and they
recovered quickly in this way.
“Did
you get him?” Cadwy croaked with his head swimming, as Lludd bent to help him.
“Get
who Prince Cadwy?” The silver-handed King asked him with a frown.
“Lug’s
hairy cnuching arse!” Bleddyn cursed loudly on his knees a few reeds away,
spitting the vomit from his mouth to the sand. “Don’t tell me you lot were all
asleep and missed the wrinkly old fart!” He cursed again and Cadwy shook his
head in despair at his tactless Pencampwr, especially considering the company
they were in, but the quality of these men was confirmed anew, as to a man they
all roared with laughter. Cadwy instantly wished he hadn’t shaken his head, as
it clunked painfully and he felt so
giddy he almost threw-up himself. Olwydd Hîr bent to help Bleddyn up with a
grin on his hard face, opposed by the screaming blue cat tattoo at his throat.
“I
can assure you my noble young Pencampwr nothing escaped that cave, apart from
an old crow a few minutes ago!” He growled, lifting him up and for once in his
life, Bleddyn realised his own brashness and the company he was in, and the
wind went out of him. Gŵyr Brith Fawr came to join them, dwarfing
him and making Bleddyn look and feel like a teenager again.
“Oh
my head is splitting!” He croaked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You must
have heard the tear-up in there?” He asked of his peers and they shook their
heads, shrugging. “Ankle-biting, three-foot cnuching green trolls, with sharp
teeth and a bloody great yellow one, who wrecked the place! You must have heard
that din?” He queried, convinced that nobody could have missed the obvious and furious
battle which had taken place in that cave.
“We
heard nothing my young champion and no person came from that cave.” Brith
growled like a bear, his eyes twinkling and Bleddyn bit his tongue and just
nodded up at the fearsome, flame-haired giant.
Lludd
cursed then from behind them, as he restored Cadwy to his feet.
“Damn
his eyes, I felt something at that crow’s passing! It was barely a tickle but now
I think about it, it was bloody obvious!” He glowered, clearly annoyed at
himself.
“Bîr,
the Iweriu King-Druid is a master at deception and subterfuge Lord Lludd, it is
a credit to your training that you detected anything at all.” Einion declared
seriously and his two colleagues nodded lugubriously beside him. “You may all
feel a little unwell for a short time, as we believe there were hallucogenic
fungus spores in the air but they will do you no lasting harm.” The Druid
informed them and Hefin confirmed their wisdom by being sick on the sand again,
and they all looked woozy and a little unsteady.
Lludd
shrugged, clearly not satisfied with his own performance and this trait is
common in all Brythons, as they are ever their own worst critics. An Essyllyr warrior proudly carrying his
Cymbric red dragon shield came trotting from the cave then, as he had been sent
in there on review. He looked at Lludd and shook his head, with a shrug of his
drooping moustache.
“Nothing
Lord, but a couple of dozen dead rats and a dead old bull, been there for some
weeks by the stink.” He declared, grimacing for effect and Lludd nodded, but
the man held out a finger. “Fresh blood, just a few drops Lord but a definite
trail leading out of the cave to the west.” The man added.
Lludd
raised the man’s hand to his face with his silver hand and sniffed the blood
carefully. He grimaced at the man and his eyes flew open in alarm.
“The
foul blood of a demon bird!” He declared with a scowl. “Quickly, go and wash
your finger in the ocean and scrub it with sand, hurry!” He said with a serious
urgency and the soldier dropped his shield and sword to the sand in panic and
tore toward the sea, terror clear on his face. Lludd grinned at his
unnecessarily panicked departure and chuckled darkly. The other soldiers laughed
too at their terrified combrogi, as up to his waist in cold seawater he
scrubbed his hand needlessly with a terrified look, as they knew their leader’s
sense of humour from old.
“Somebody
struck the wizard!” Lludd stated proudly, ignoring the frantically splashing
soldier and looking around at the exhausted holy warriors around him.
“That
was Gwerdded.” Hefin said, a touch of wonder in his young voice and the
applause and cheering began. Gwerdded looked completely non-plussed by this accolade
but bowed in return nonetheless, to them all. None of the five warriors
relished returning to the inner chamber to check this stunning report of rats
and a long-dead bull, as all were content to call an end to the mission and
return to the Cadlys whatever remained
in the cave, as they were suddenly very tired and ravenous.
“Shall
we return gentlemen and see if our efforts have achieved anything?” Gwerdded proposed and all noticed how grey and exhausted he looked then. They began
to appreciate his unperceived efforts in the battle and the ferocious toll it
had clearly taken on him. Cadwy stepped up and threw his arm around the Dewin’s
waist, who threw his own arm around his broad shoulders gratefully and they
stepped-off along the sand together.
“What
in Lug’s name is in that jar Gwerdded?” Cadwy asked him quietly. “It must be
incredibly powerful magic!” He added, his eyebrows raised and Gwerdded smiled
tiredly beside him.
“No
great magic Cadwy, just the freshly chopped-up flesh of a rare shellfish, found
about fifty miles south of here. They are iridescent in the dark and we crafty
Dewin have been using them for years to scare the ignorant werrin, but they
also come in useful against the Gwyllion
y Tywyll Hoer, as for some reason the marine flesh is repellent to them.”
He said casually and Cadwy nodded sagely, as if he knew exactly what the Prince
was talking-about, hearing about the ‘Cold Wraiths of Darkness’ for the first
time ever. They returned to their allied Cadlys in the same formation they
departed in but slowly, as the sacred core of this troop were exhausted, as
they’d never been before.
Meleri
was sitting comfortably in a leather armchair by a roaring hearth-fire and
sipping the very finest warm, herb-infused mead, when they were ushered in to
see her. She looked pale and exhausted still, but much recovered. Meleri wore a
fantastic wide collar of beautifully turned and strung, Jet beads of a glossy
black over her long white robe. The Brif-Druiden smiled at them from the chair,
waving them to the couches about this comfortable tent with its sheepskin rugs
and soft pillows. Her courage at returning to Prydein after what had taken
place over the channel was commendable, but the toll it had taken on the lady
was evident on her face.
“I
am in your debt gentlemen and that is no mean reward.” She said in a level
voice and she waved them to silence as they demurred. “I know what you endured
and what you achieved as one sacred body, and I thank and applaud you.” She
said gravely. “I knew you would not capture him, nor hope to kill him as there
was only one on this earth capable of that…” Her voice trailed off and all
these men bowed their heads, knowing fine well who she meant. “If I had not
been otherwise engaged, I may have…..well anyway.” Meleri continued bitterly. “Ri-Draoîth
Bîr has not lived these four hundred and twenty-four years by chance alone and
he has in that time, accumulated a staggering amount of power, and yet what you
did was enough. You dislodged him before his evil rituals could reach their
culmination and forcing the powerful Draoîth to flee was a huge achievement on
your part, one Lady Karych and my Arch-Druids thought impossible. However, I
knew differently and had the utmost faith in my eleven holy warriors.” Meleri
smiled her unfathomable smile at them then and bowed her head in thanks. “As
for actually wounding the old crone, well that was instinctual and intuitive
action of the very highest order.” She said, nodding to Gwerdded, who returned
the bow with due deference.
Meleri
rang a small hand-bell next to her then and Arch-Druid Einion and three burly
stewards entered the pavilion, the lead steward carrying a large wooden tray.
Einion bowed to Meleri, who nodded in return and Einion turned to the visitors
with a smile.
These
five valiant men stood then, looking slightly embarrassed as Einion took a
heavy gold acorn ring from this beautiful wooden box, etched with some ancient
looking designs and marks, and the Arch-Druid handed one to each man, with a
bow. Strangely, each one fitted as though custom-made and once on, was
reluctant to come off. Once all five rings were worn, the five men felt a
frisson of energy course through them.
“These
rings have much power on their own and will protect you but when you come
together, the power these rings give you will be amplified and in this way, you
will always be protected from the vilest curses and the most powerful of
magic.” Meleri told them seriously and each man looked anew at his golden gift
which shimmered on his finger, before looking agog at the others. Now this
little ceremony was over, Einion and his stewards withdrew and they were left
with the Brif-Druiden once more.
“Go
now and enjoy yourselves, recover from your valiant efforts and enjoy too all the
praises of your people. Never shy from their praises with false modesty as your
Bri is all.” She told them wisely,
taking a long draught of the mead before looking at them again. “Life gentlemen
for all its pain, anguish and suffering is ours to hold, to keep and to enjoy.
Never forget that and take the rewards that come to you in your lives, with
pleasure and pride. Those rings you have earned are cut with powerful runes,
which guarantee their authenticity and will gain you much assistance from our
order when shown, almost anywhere in the known world. More advice, support and
assistance than any of you can yet appreciate but I hope you will in time. I
hope too that you come to know the value of our appreciation.” She told them
seriously, draining her silver goblet. “We are on the very precipice gentlemen
and tomorrow we will all I’m sure, be at war with the Roman invaders. You will
need as much unity and cooperation as humanly possible in the forthcoming days,
so do your duty to Prydein and repel these verminous Gelyn!” She demanded of
them, the fire blazing in her hard eyes.
The
Druiden sighed then, revealing her exhaustion and the wrinkles in her face
deepened. “Leave me now, I tire.” She grumbled, her head nodding and they all
stood and filed out, into the cool evening air and the awaiting celebrations in
their honour.
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