Chronicle of Ages
Author: Traci Harding
Date: 2008-03-29 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Time Travel; Science Fiction; Magic; Fiction; Science Fiction Fantasy; Historical Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: Traci Harding returns to The Ancient Future Trilogy which ended with the ࢨosen leaving Earth for the further reaches of space. Earth must follow its own path for a time while the gods battle elsewhere. Noah, storyteller and chronicler, tutors the children born after colonisation and must explore the past to fill in the gaps in his written histories. Tory, Maelgwn and Rhun recall their life and times in ancient Britain when Maelgwn reigned as High King of the Britons and Tory was a student of time travel and immortality under Taliesin. Rhun became King of Gwynned after Maelgwn. When Vortipor, H
Publisher: Voyager
Rights: copyright © Traci Harding 2000

Dedication

For the kindred who shaped my past.

To my loving parents, Terry and Toni
Ludgate, for their encouragement and
patience when raising me.

And to my brothers, Steven and Kyle,
with whom I shared the most excellent
adventure of youth.

Thanks for the countless happy
memories.

Contents

Cover

Dedication

Prologue: The Narrator’s Tale

PART 1: Tales from the Dark Age

Map of Prydyn 529 AD

Character List

1. The One Begotten Son

2. Fort of Fairies

3. Whisked Away

4. The Mists of Gwyn ap Nudd

5. When All is Said and Done

6. Shortcomings

7. The Siren Song

8. Elementary

PART 2: A Tale from the Space Age

Character List

9. Close Encounters

10. Absent Friends

11. Mission Control

12. Object of Desire

13. The Flight of the City

14. Real Lies

15. The She Devil

16. Brotherly Love

17. Altered Impressions

PART 3: The Age’s Darkest Tale

Map of Britain 549 AD

Character List

18. Fondest Enemies

19. Diversions

20. Choice of Kings

21. The Penitent Man

22. Cloaking the Mirror

23. Walls

24. The Darkest Hour

25. Killing the Past

26. The Kiss

Bibliography

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other Books by Traci Harding

Copyright

Prologue

The Narrator’s Tale

The university in Chailida has grown into a centre of learning to rival those once found in the ancient City of the Golden Gates. Chailida was named in fond remembrance of the capital city of Atlantis in the hope that one day our capital would embody the famed harmonious lifestyle of the Old Land.

The layout of Chailida is based on the same circular design as Chailidocean, but there are no gates separating one island ring from another and all residents are free to roam where they please. The inner island of our fair city is host to the buildings and dwellings of the government officials and their families. The local residents and tourists have access to the central island, except in the event of a crisis — although Chailida is yet to know one.

There wasn’t a trace of civilisation on this divine planet when the Serpent’s clan arrived here fifty years ago, and now Chailida is a thriving metropolis. The big difference between Kila and Gaia is that outside Chailida the rest of the planet remains untouched. All of the Serpent’s clans — red, yellow, black and white — reside in Chailida. We live as one people, work and develop as one race, for we are the Chosen Ones — the immortal sons and daughters of the Nefilim Lord Marduk. Our unity ensures the best world management for Kila, as we consider ourselves guardians of the planet, rather than owners. Here, all the species of flora and fauna that have been lost to mankind’s greed on Gaia thrive. All of our city’s needs are imported from the neighbouring star systems.

We, the Chosen, need only one export to sustain our colony, and that export is ourselves, for there are no finer warriors in the known universe. We are a nation of psychically and physically powerful beings, admired and feared by most in the galaxy. The philosophers, seers, healers, astronomers and scholars amongst us are also renowned, which makes for a thriving tourist trade. Kila is fast becoming the most sought-out destination for all the human breeds residing in this quadrant of the galaxy, which was named by the Nefilim, AN-TU-IM — Heaven of Storms.

Antuim is plagued by meteor showers. This is why such a prize planet as Kila remained undiscovered and undisturbed for so long. The star system of which Kila is a part is surrounded by systems filled with space debris, though due to our star system’s differing rotation to those surrounding, it manages to repel most of the troublesome refuse. Thus, Kila’s system has been aptly named ESH-MAH — the divine inside place — as it is indeed a peaceful haven in a galaxy of chaos.

I must say that I, for one, simply adore everything about living on Kila. Not a day passes that I don’t bless the day that I stumbled into the path of Tory Alexander.

If there is a Chosen ‘one’ amidst the ranks of the Chosen then Tory Alexander is that singular exceptional soul. For it was she who struck the deal with the Nefilim that landed the Chosen Ones on this thriving virgin planet. The mighty Nefilim are the intergalactic rulers of the known universe and did not grant the Serpent’s clan this beautiful, brave new world out of the kindness of their hearts. It is an experiment, as is the case with nearly all Nefilim endeavours.

Tory’s winning argument was that the Nefilim, during their various comings and goings from Gaia, confused humankind’s beliefs and had nurtured humans in the art of destruction since infancy. Now that some of humankind had reached a certain physical, mental and spiritual maturity, Tory felt that we, the Chosen Ones, could prove that humankind no longer needed the Nefilim’s form of higher supervision. Since Tory and her husband, King Maelgwn of Gwynedd — otherwise known as ‘the Dragon’ — had resolved an age-old Nefilim dispute and done the Pantheon of Twelve a great service in the process, the Nefilim Lord Nergal, head of the great Pantheon, decided to allow Tory the chance to make good her claim. The Nefilim had been consuming Gaia’s natural resources for approximately four hundred and fifty thousand years before they finally left humankind to finish her off; thus Nergal granted the Chosen the same amount of years to inhabit Kila.

Now, only time shall tell if Kila will be in better shape than Gaia after the same amount of civilised occupation. If the Chosen can maintain the health and beauty of this planet, then we shall inherit Kila for all time.

‘Only four hundred and forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and fifty years till judgment day,’ I sat thinking, my eyes upturned to the brilliant blue-green sky above.

Some of the native plant life on Kila emit a green gaseous vapour that is perfectly harmless to breathe, but it colours the sky an almost fluorescent shade of aquamarine.

I had no lectures on my agenda this particular morning, so I was using the free time to update my chronicles. On the stairs of the Purcell Institute of Immortal History I reclined comfortably, absorbing the morning sunshine.

The building at my back was dedicated to me, Noah Purcell, by my fellow Chosen, in recognition of the extensive work that I have done in recording a history of our kind. On this very spot, forty years ago, I began tutoring the children of the Chosen in the origins of their kindred.

It was back on Gaia that I penned the first story relating to the Dragon’s line of the Serpent’s Clan, but since landing on Kila I have dedicated myself to compiling a complete history of every branch of the Serpent’s family tree. I am proud to say that my Chronicle of Ages is considered the definitive historical reference text here on Kila as it gives a full account of the life and times of all Chosen Ones — or so I believed.

‘En Noah, might we have a word?’ ‘En’ was an old Atlantean term that referred to anyone in a position of authority.

When I looked up to find two of Tory Alexander’s grandchildren, Ragan and Asher, bounding up the stairs towards me, I felt all hope of getting any serious work done depart abruptly.

The daughter of Tory’s daughter Rhiannon, was one feisty young miss named Ragan, whose intellect and curiosity far exceeded a girl of fifteen years of age. Rai took after the dark side of her family, as her mother did. Ebony eyes and near-black hair, Ragan had inherited her father’s curls. Her skin was fair, akin to the rest of her clan, as was her slender but rugged build.

Asher, Rhun of Gwynedd’s first-born son on Kila, who trailed Rai up the Institute stairs, had the fair blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes that also popped up in the Dragon’s family line from time to time. A bright young lad, Asher was a year younger than the girl he followed everywhere.

‘I am at your complete disposal, Ragan,’ said I, having no idea what I was letting myself in for. ‘What can I do for you?’ I motioned both of my students to be seated.

‘I have read your chronicles, En Noah, several times over,’ Rai began politely, after seating herself at my feet.

‘And,’ Asher cut in, ‘we were wondering —’

As Rai reached up and grabbed hold of Asher’s shirt, pulling him down to a seat beside her, the lad fell silent.

Asher realised that he had spoken out of turn and meekly gestured for Rai to go ahead and convey their query.

Appeased, Rai turned back to me. ‘Meaning no disrespect to your magnificent work, En Noah, we have noted that a few key eras from our family history seem to have been omitted.’

‘What?’ A note of offence snuck into my tone, for the child’s statement took me completely off guard.

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t have mentioned it,’ Rai suggested, in an attempt at being humble.

‘No, no.’ I cleared my throat to dismiss the insulted tone that was still underlying my responses. ‘If I have overlooked an important period, naturally I want to know about it.’

‘Actually, from what I can tell,’ Rai ventured, ‘there are several periods void.’

‘Several!’ Again I was forced to clear my throat of its agitated strain. ‘Several?’ I repeated my query, managing to sound genuinely interested this time.

Asher nodded along with Rai to confirm this, although he dared not steal her thunder.

‘Yes,’ Rai pulled out her psycho-kinetic memory enhancer that was a standard issue study tool here on Kila.

This hand-held chrome orb performed the same function as a PC back on Gaia, but the PME absorbed information directly from the user’s mind and stored it for reference.

Rai was silent a moment as she consulted her notes. ‘In the last lesson, at the conclusion of volume one, Grandmother had defeated the witch Mahaud at Aberffraw in the year nineteen hundred and ninety four — Gaia time. She then safely returned the infant, Rhun —’

‘Father,’ Asher added, dying to speed up the question.

Rai gave him a glance of disdain, before continuing. ‘Back to Gwynedd, to the year five hundred and twenty. Gaia time.’

‘That is correct,’ I nodded, as eager as Asher for Rai to get to the point.

‘Then, in the first lesson of volume two, we skip straight to the destruction of Aberffraw and the second great battle for Arwystli, which didn’t take place until the year five hundred and forty — Gaia time. So —’

‘We want to know what happened in the twenty years in between that caused Grandfather to be appointed High King of the Britons?’ Asher blurted out the punch line.

I was shocked to say the very least. Due to all the time-jumps the Dragon’s clan had done, it was possible that I had overlooked such an important era of Maelgwn’s reign.

‘At the end of volume one there was no such title as High King of the Britons,’ Rai explained the reason for their curiosity. ‘So what occurred during that time to make such an appointment necessary?’

At this point in the conversation I became aware that my jaw was dropping and so closed my mouth. ‘A very intriguing question.’ A question to which I had no answer, for I had not explored this period in ancient Briton.

‘Furthermore,’ Rai moved on, ‘nothing is said of Grandfather’s time in the service of the Lord Marduk, following his abduction from Gaia in the year five hundred and forty.’

Now I was frowning, she was right again.

‘And what of my father’s rule in Gwynedd, and his time as High King of Briton?’ Asher questioned further, to my great bewilderment.

‘How he came by the crown of Gwynedd has been documented,’ Asher informed, ‘but no account has been made of his rise to High King?’

I was a little surprised by this query.

‘Has your father not spoken with you about that period of his life?’ I asked.

‘Bits and pieces,’ Asher shrugged, ‘but he’s never on the planet long enough to go into it with me in any great depth.’

‘I see.’ I inhaled deeply. ‘So, is that all the oversights you found, or should I brace myself for more?’

‘That is all.’ Rai smiled at me reassuringly, as she and Asher stood up to go to their class.

‘Well then, rest assured that I shall endeavour to correct these oversights,’ I told them, still stunned that the oversights existed. ‘I thank you for drawing my attention to them.’

‘You’re most welcome, En Noah.’ Rai beamed with pride. ‘I’ll let you know if we find any more.’

Heaven forbid, I thought, as I watched the pair bound off to their next conquest.

Just when I thought I had finally got all the chronicles up to date, another year’s work had suddenly manifested.

No rest for the insane, I told myself, having freely chosen the task of compiling these records.

A little overawed by the amount of work ahead, I found myself smiling all the same, for the ghosts of ages past were again beckoning me forth to the untold adventures within the Dragon’s fold.

That evening I set about acquiring the first-hand accounts I would require to document those periods previously neglected in my chronicles.

Those who had witnessed the events of the missing eras were all key figures in Kila’s governmental hierarchy and thus would have precious little time to spare on recording their memoirs for moi. If I wished to obtain the information I sought this side of Judgment Day, I needed to make fulfilling my request as simple as possible.

I dispatched three PME orbs with a mental note to each of the recipients. These outlined my request and the reason behind it.

The first orb I teleported to the attention of the reigning Governor of Kila, the Dragon himself, Maelgwn Gwynedd. For only he could give me a complete account of the time immediately following his abduction from sixth century Gwynedd. I confess that I did not expect to see this thought-recorder again in a hurry as our Governor was currently on a public relations tour of the galaxy with several members of the great Pantheon.

As I realised Maelgwn would have his hands full satisfying my request, I sent the second orb to our Governess, Tory Alexander. With Maelgwn away Tory also had a full agenda seeing to the day-to-day running of Kila. She had many a wise advisor and assistant to aid her in her high appointment, but still her time was precious these days. I felt that even such a dear friend as I would probably be stretching the friendship by adding to her already overwhelming workload. Still, besides Maelgwn, Tory was my only hope of gaining a full account of the Dragon’s rise in status to High King of the Britons. In my note to her, I humbly suggested that she only comply with my request if she ever did find herself at leisure — it wasn’t like any of us were going anywhere in a hurry. If I didn’t get to amend my chronicles as soon as I would like, it mattered not, for I had the whole of eternity at my disposal, as did all the Chosen.

The third orb I had no choice but to send to Rhun of Gwynedd, even though I fully expected that it would never return to me. It wasn’t that Rhun’s appointment as head of Deep Space Exploration kept him so incredibly busy. It was more that he was so completely obsessed with his work that his focus could rarely be distracted from it. I hoped that, as I was enquiring on his son’s behalf, Rhun would be encouraged to make the effort.

When and if the orbs were returned to me, there would be much work to do before the accounts they contained could be presented to my two inquisitive scholars and, indeed, the rest of my pupils.

The statements the thought recorders contained would have to be censored to suit the range of ages amongst the students who attend the Purcell Institute. A good part of my chronicles is stored on a psycho-kinetic retrieval system, so that as the students age and mature, new chapters of the age-old legends become available for reference. Even so, there are still some periods of human history considered too detrimental to be experienced psychically, and so they are recorded in text only.

Two days later I was summoned to Government House to have morning tea with our Governess, the Honourable Tory Alexander.

Sibyl, Rhun’s better half, showed me through Tory’s office to a balcony that overlooked the lovely parks of the inner island.

‘Our Governess will join you presently,’ she informed politely, motioning me to be seated.

Sibyl was numbered among our best Seers, and had become one of Tory’s chief advisors. With Rhun and Maelgwn absent from the planet a good deal of the time, the two women had also become close companions.

‘Do you know why Tory has summoned me here?’ I probed before Sibyl managed to escape back indoors.

She smiled an awkward smile, knowing I already knew that she was aware of the reason. ‘She’s not annoyed at you, Noah.’ Sibyl addressed my most pressing fear. ‘Tory is very much looking forward to seeing you. So please sit and help yourself to some refreshments.’

The instruction was pleasant enough to carry out, yet I couldn’t relax. I was excited by the prospect of spending a little time in Tory’s company. I missed the days of working alongside her on a daily basis as I had back on Gaia. Her confidence, enthusiasm and determination were an inspiration to all who encountered her, and I was no exception.

As I had made Tory infinite cups of tea in the past, I did the honours while I awaited her.

‘Hello, stranger.’

I didn’t have to look up to know it was Tory. Her voice was unmistakable. ‘Perfect timing,’ I announced as I finished stirring her cup and stood in greeting.

For a woman in a high pressure job, Tory looked fabulous. The plain tailored pants-suit of deep purple that she wore was made of a very soft fibre that flowed around her athletic form as she walked. Most in Chailida wore loose, comfortable, hooded clothing as the climate in this part of Kila was quite warm all year round. Her long golden hair was twirled up into a bun and only short wisps that escaped her hairdo danced around her face.

‘Don’t you dare get formal with me, Noah Purcell.’

She motioned me back to my seat, but I remained upstanding. ‘Actually, I thought I’d have a better chance of scoring a hug.’

Tory’s smile overwhelmed me, as did the tears in her eyes as she approached and gave me a long squeeze. ‘You always score a hug.’ She stepped back and handed me the orb I’d sent her. ‘All that I remember of Maelgwn’s appointment to High King of Briton is on there, along with some additional accounts from others to fill in some of the blanks that elude me.’

Her prompt response to my request overwhelmed me, I couldn’t think what to say. ‘I didn’t mean to put you to any bother.’

‘It was no bother.’ Tory seated herself and took her tea in hand. ‘In fact, it was a rather intriguing exercise.’

As Tory sipped the tea I had prepared in advance, I backed up to take my seat. She gave a deep sigh of satisfaction to let me know the brew was to her liking.

‘You still haven’t lost your touch,’ she assured me.

‘I forget nothing of our time together,’ I told her, realising I was flirting. I could tell by the amused look on her face that Tory knew it too.

‘In your present reincarnation, you mean?’ she added.

‘Why, yes.’ Her response puzzled me slightly and my eyes narrowed. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

Tory’s expression became more serious and she placed her teacup aside. ‘When Rhun and I first began working on your past-life memory with you, there were several periods of your incarnation as the sixth century bard, Selwyn, that you’d blocked out completely.’

‘Were there?’ I was intrigued to learn this. ‘I don’t recall you mentioning —’

‘That’s because we were afraid of making the blockages worse. We knew then was not the right time for you to confront these memories, and we didn’t wish to instil a conscious fear of facing the past once it did come calling to set you right.’ Tory smiled and casually offered me a biscuit, but those deep violet eyes of hers betrayed the sympathy she felt.

Deep inside, panic gripped my being. ‘So, you’re implying that you think I am at odds with myself?’

‘What I’m saying is that there are things about the period of time contained in that orb that you may not want to face. Unfortunately, there are parts of the tale that only Selwyn knows, and those facts are locked in some dark recess of your memory.’

I sat stupefied a second. Was that why I hadn’t researched this period of history: it wasn’t that I had overlooked it, so much as unconsciously ignored it.

‘I would be happy to help you work through the events,’ Tory offered. ‘Other than that, you might try to seek the counsel of Taliesin … he might even respond to a summons from you.’ Her tone became rather indignant; hence I gathered she’d had problems contacting the ascended Master.

The foreboding in my gut was growing. ‘Do you know what it is I refuse to remember?’

My question made Tory frown. ‘I could only guess, I’m afraid, and I could be wrong. Selwyn never divulged his secret to me, or anyone, as far as I know. Better that you face your demons, Noah, and discover the answers for yourself.’ Tory shrugged apologetically, and finished her tea.

‘Secret, you say?’ I fished for information.

Tory nodded. ‘The young bard pulled off an extraordinary coup, you see, that saved the day. But, by whatever means he achieved what he did, it saddened Selwyn greatly and drove him to the life of a hermit for many years following Maelgwn’s appointment to High King of Briton.’

As I sat dwelling on the discoveries that lay ahead, I must have drained of colour.

‘Look at it this way.’ Tory sought to pep me up. ‘You ask others to relive the harrowing experiences of their past for the sake of posterity. Now here’s your chance to make a contribution.’

I forced a smile in response.

‘Oh, come on, where’s your sense of adventure?’ She encouraged me with a nudge to the shoulder. ‘After all, you asked for it.’

Back in my study at the Institute, the thought-recorder Tory had returned to me sat idle on my desk. The orb seemed to be taunting me as I pondered what could have driven Selwyn into isolation.

Years ago, back on Gaia, I was contacted by the part of my higher self that was once Selwyn. The great Druid told me he had left all of his precious histories in the safe keeping of Taliesin — High Druid of Briton — to give to me, Selwyn’s Chosen incarnation. Not one of the documents had mentioned Selwyn’s time spent in isolation, nor what had driven him to it. And where other periods of Maelgwn’s reign were heavily documented, his rise to High King status was not even given a mention. Whatever it was that happened during this time, Selwyn sure didn’t want it remembered — perhaps by me least of all.

‘So …’ I reached out and took the thought-recorder in hand. ‘I have been blocking out these recollections since the Dark Ages, hey?’ I sat back in my seat and made myself comfortable. ‘Sorry, Selwyn, it has to be done.’ I activated the play function and opened my mind to its data.

The recording commenced with an … oratory from Tory that overlaid a visual of a memory of presiding over a general meeting of the allied kingdoms of Briton. The leaders of Gwynedd, Powys, Gwent, Dumnonia, Dalriada and Dyfed were present — all of whom appeared a mite concerned about something.

‘The rise of Maelgwn to the status of High King of Briton began during the tenth year of his reign as King of Gwynedd, 529 AD Gaia Time. Aurelius Conan, son of Aurelius Caninus, King of Gwent Is Coed, returned from studying in Italy the same year to assume the crown of Gwent Is Coed.

That year the Beltaine festival was hosted at Castle Dwyran in Dyfed. All the leaders from the surrounding kingdoms descended upon Vortipor, the Protector of Dyfed, and his lovely wife, the Lady Cara, to partake of their hospitality for the duration of the festival that would continue for several days …

PART 1

Tales from the Dark Age

Map of Prydyn 529 AD

Character List

KILA

Author of the Chronicles

Noah Purcell

Governess

Tory Alexander

Tory’s Head Seer

Sibyl

Ascendant Master

Taliesin

Rhun’s son

Asher

Rhiannon’s daughter

Ragan (Rai)

GWYNEDD

Queen of Gwynedd

Tory Alexander

King of Gwynedd

Maelgwn Gwynedd

Prince of Gwynedd

Rhun

High Merlin of Briton

Taliesin

Merlin of Powys

Selwyn

King of Dumnonia

Catulus

Protector of Dyfed

Vortipor

Vortipor’s wife

Cara

Vortipor’s daughter

Bridgit

King of Gwent Is Coed

Aurelius Caninus

Prince of Gwent Is Coed

Aurelius Conan

Ruler of Dalriada

Fergus MacErc

King of Powys

Calin Brockwell

Queen of Powys

Katren

Prince of Powys

Bryce

Aurelius’ champion

Leoline

Vortipor’s champion

Queron

King Brockwell’s advisor

Lamorak

Lord Bishop of Glamorgan

Samson

Brockwell’s scout

Trwst

King of the Tylwyth Teg

Gwyn ap Nudd

Siren

Amabel

Folk of the Otherworld

Tylwyth Teg

Tory’s champion

Ione

Midwife

Old Hetty

1

The One Begotten Son

This was to be the last festival that Aurelius Caninus would attend, as his old bones were getting beyond journeying. To the next great meeting of the alliance Aurelius would send his son, Conan. The old ruler expected his boy to return home from Ravenna, the capital of Justinian’s empire in the north of Italy, any day now. Despite Aurelius’ assurances that his son would not fall short of the allied kingdoms expectations, it worried Aurelius’ fellow leaders that Conan was not of the native faith.

‘Once he hast witnessed all the wonders I have seen since meeting thee, Dragon, Conan too shall be inspired to the cause of the Goddess,’ Aurelius Caninus assured his allies at the pre-festival conference. ‘How could he not, when our pact has brought my kingdom ten years of peace and prosperity?’ The old ruler became short of breath and broke into a coughing fit.

Tory, who was the only woman present, rose to pour him a fresh glass of water and then aided him to drink it.

‘We all greatly look forward to meeting him,’ she told Aurelius, although glancing around at the other leaders assembled, Tory could tell they did not share her sentiments.

Aurelius was thankful for the water, but knowing his limits, decided to retire and leave the younger rulers to their agenda.

As King of Gwent Is Coed, Aurelius Caninus had maintained a good trade between his kingdom and Italy in the wake of the Roman retreat from Briton. Aurelius was particularly fond of their wine. At the time Conan had been born, Aurelius had yet to be acquainted with most of the rulers of his neighbouring kingdoms, with whom he was now allied. Thus, at that time, Aurelius had accepted the advice of his religious advisors to have Conan raised in the Roman faith, as he himself had been. It was arranged that Conan be taken to Ravenna to learn all that a great ruler should.

Twenty years later, Aurelius realised in retrospect that his son would have been better tutored by the Bards who taught the children of the royal families of Prydyn. Aurelius, raised in the Holy Roman faith, had only re-embraced the Old Ways of his people since meeting and joining forces with Maelgwn Gwynedd. Yet, in converting back to the way of the Goddess, Aurelius had not ostracised those of his kingdom who wished to maintain their Christian beliefs and allowed the Bishops and monasteries to continue to flourish in his kingdom — much as Catulus of Dumnonia had.

‘The lad shall be a cocky young upstart disposed toward the Roman faith and their way of doing things,’ King Brockwell of Powys grumbled, as soon as Aurelius had left the room.

‘Sounds rather like someone else I met once.’ King Catulus of Dumnonia turned his eyes Maelgwn’s way. ‘Hey, Dragon? Sounds like thee and Aurelius Conan could have a thing or two in common.’

‘We were all young and deluded once, Catulus,’ Maelgwn conceded with a smile.

‘Conan wast a good lad before he departed for Ravenna.’ Vortipor vouched for Aurelius’ word. ‘Perhaps our fears art in vain.’

‘Of course they art,’ Tory emphasised. ‘I feel sure that Aurelius Conan will want the best for his kingdom, as do we all.’

‘Aye, but will he recognise what be in the best interests of Gwent?’ Fergus MacErc, the Scot of Dalriada, folded his arms, clearly ill-at-ease.

‘I say we drag young Conan up to Llyn Cerrig Bach for an inauguration.’ Brockwell grinned, revealing the dimple on his chin. ‘Let the Goddess decide if he is worthy.’ He raised his brow, his blue eyes sparkling as he relished the thought.

Ten years a king, and Calin Brockwell was still as mischievous and audacious as ever.

‘Calin!’ Tory wasn’t surprised at him, but she made it sound as if she was. ‘Hopefully that will be the last step of the many it will take to right this situation.’

‘Ahh.’ Brockwell detected her doubtfulness and sought to exploit it. ‘So even thou dost concede that young Conan could be a threat to the alliance?’

Tory avoided Brockwell’s vexing question, suspecting that he had an ego-based motive for disliking the soon-to-be king. ‘Why doth thee persist in calling him young Conan, when the man be only a few years thy junior?’

The question shut Brockwell up, and gave the older members of the council something to chuckle about.

‘Thee should praise the Goddess, my friend.’ Catulus, the oldest of the rulers remaining in the room, slapped Brockwell’s back. ‘It will give the rest of us someone new to pick on.’ He ruffled Brockwell’s mass of dark unruly curls, until the warrior cast him off.

‘Laugh if thee will.’ Calin was well accustomed to not being taken seriously; he’d been the youngest member of the alliance for ten years. ‘But this kid will be trouble. I smell a battle brewing.’

The frowns on the faces of his fellow rulers told Tory that most of them agreed with Brockwell’s premonition. Only Vortipor chose to laugh off the comment.

‘Stop it, Calin, thou art scaring me,’ their burly host teased, cowering to play scared. ‘Well, I smell a celebration brewing!’ He stood, dispersing the doom and gloom from the room. ‘And if ye girls have quite finished imagining our fate, I would like to get festive.’

‘I second that motion.’ Maelgwn slammed his hands down on the table, bringing their meeting to a close.

Under the guise of an advisor to Aurelius, Conan moved through the banquet room, observing the rowdy pagans that his father had fallen in with.

He could hardly compare this raucous feast with the Roman banquets he was used to. The music and drunken laughter made any civilized conversation impossible. The orgy of sexual intercourse that would take place all over the countryside tonight seemed to be getting off to a fine start over dinner. And it wasn’t just the commoners who were submitting to their desires in public; the chieftains were openly flaunting their affections also.

Backward heathens, one and all, thought Conan, seating himself at one of the many long tables laden with food.

‘Some mead, sir?’

Conan turned to find a tall, slender maiden awaiting his word with a large jug of mead in hand. Her smile, so welcoming, took his breath away as he momentarily mistook her for a lady he had known in Ravenna. ‘Please,’ he said finally. The woman looked fragile, yet she had no problem handling the heavy jug and managed to fill his goblet without spilling a drop. ‘Thou dost serve thy mistress well.’ He acknowledged her servant’s skill.

Although Cara bowed to accept his intended compliment, she couldn’t help but giggle at his misconception. ‘I am the mistress of this house.’ Again she was amused by the bewildered look on the man’s face.

‘The hostess serving mead —’ Conan near choked with shock.

‘There be no better way to meet all my guests,’ she explained with glee. ‘I am the Lady Cara, and thou art …?’

‘An advisor to Aurelius Caninus.’ Conan stalled as he thought up a name for himself. ‘Sir Eldred.’ He borrowed a deceased uncle’s name.

‘I am pleased to meet thee, Sir Eldred.’ Cara gave a slight curtsy, although her social standing meant she was not bound to do so. ‘As an advisor to Aurelius, hast thou met his allies?’ Cara motioned to the main table where her honoured guests were seated.

Conan glanced at the main table in the grip of Beltaine revelry. ‘They appear to have their hands full at present.’ His attention returned to Cara.

Conan remembered Vortipor from childhood. The Protector of Dyfed had done well for himself. The Lady Cara was a vision of loveliness. Dark copper brown curls fell over the milky white skin of her shoulders and down her back in large orderly ringlets. Her eyes of hazel sparkled, full of life, and the luscious lips of her tiny mouth seemed, in Conan’s opinion, perfectly crafted for kissing.

‘Hast thou not got better things to do, woman?’ Vortipor grabbed up his wife from behind and hauled her away, squealing and giggling.

Conan stood, concerned by how the Lady was being manhandled. He watched as Vortipor relieved her of her pitcher and backing her up to the main table, proceeded to seduce her on it.

‘Take it outside, Vortipor,’ Tory whacked his shoulder to get his attention, and then referred him to her son. Rhun was eleven years of age and watching Vortipor’s seduction technique with great interest.

‘Little dragon, why art thou not in thy bed?’ Vortipor let his wife up from the table.

‘I have a headache,’ he announced, and as soon as his mother’s attention was diverted, Rhun grinned broadly.

‘Thou art a headache,’ Vortipor grumbled as he watched his wife return to their guests.

‘Rhun.’ Maelgwn called for his son’s attention and waved him in close. ‘See that man over there, sitting on his own?’ Rhun nodded in accord. ‘I do not recall ever seeing him before.’

‘Shall I find out his identity for thee, father?’ Rhun offered enthusiastically.

‘Do that.’ Maelgwn whacked his boy’s behind and sent him on his way.

‘Maelgwn!’ Tory caught onto their game. ‘What art thou asking him to do now?’

‘Nothing,’ Maelgwn lied, knowing his wife didn’t like him exploiting their son’s talents in such ways.

Tory watched Rhun like a hawk as he wandered up to the stranger across the room and struck up a conversation. Conan wasn’t very interested in talking to the lad, but that was no matter. Rhun was more interested in what the man was not saying and he only needed to be touching his victim to find out.

After Rhun had annoyed him with a few unimportant questions, the stranger up and left the room, so the young Prince of Gwynedd returned to his father to report.

‘He claims to be an advisor to Aurelius, one Sir Eldred,’ Rhun informed his father, but Vortipor and Brockwell took an interest in the boy’s truthsaying as well. ‘He lies,’ Rhun announced. ‘He is really the son of Aurelius, Conan, here to assess us.’

Brockwell smiled upon learning of Conan’s deception. ‘I would say we art doing a better job of assessing him.’ Brockwell ruffled Rhun’s hair, well proud of him. ‘Thou art an excellent spy.’

‘One more thing,’ Rhun addressed Vortipor. ‘He hast taken an interest in thy wife.’

‘What! How dare he …’ The information near sent the Protector into a drunken rage.

‘Vortipor!’ Maelgwn stood and grabbed hold of both Vortipor’s shoulders to get his full attention. ‘He has done naught but think thy wife attractive, which I am sure many men have done.’

Vortipor saw reason and settled.

‘Well, actually father, he thought —’

Maelgwn clamped a hand over Rhun’s mouth to silence the lad and prevent an incident.

‘See why I tell thee not to put him up to these things?’ Tory scolded her husband ever so slightly, and Maelgwn nodded to concede that he was in the wrong.

‘Let the boy speak,’ Vortipor insisted, until Tory stood to end the subject.

‘The boy,’ she stressed, glaring her son down, ‘be going to bed, before he starts a war.’ She motioned with her eyes for Rhun to take his leave, and he did so without further argument.

‘Well now.’ Brockwell slapped his hands together resolutely. ‘I think I will go find our dear Sir Eldred.’

‘I shall join thee.’ Vortipor moved to accompany his ally.

‘Oh no.’ Tory blocked the departure of the two stocky warriors. ‘I shall go.’

‘Aw, Tory, thou dost spoil all our fun,’ Calin whined.

‘I wast under the impression ye both had better things to do this evening?’ Vortipor and Calin couldn’t argue with that.

‘I wast under the impression that so did we?’ Maelgwn contested her ruling instead.

‘I shan’t be long,’ she advised them all, turning and fleeing before any could protest.

Tory found Conan cringing in disgust at the cavorting masses that were gathered around the Beltaine fires of the outer bailey.

People were dancing and chanting praises to Beli, the Lord of the harvest. Offerings were tossed to the flames in his honour as prime cattle were driven between the fires for purification and fertility.

‘Sir Eldred, I presume.’ Tory greeted him warmly, and was surprised when he backed up a few paces, wary of her.

This woman Conan had heard much about. If even half of what his father had told him of the Dragon’s queen was true, it was dangerous to be anywhere near her. For it was said that Tory Alexander was the instrument of a Goddess who channelled supernatural power through her. She was also the trainer of a handful of key warriors in Briton who had become known as the twelve Masters of the Goddess, or the Dragon’s circle. Their combined feats over the past ten years and their prowess in battle had become so legendary that even in Ravenna he’d heard the reports.

‘I did not mean to startle thee.’ Tory took a step toward Conan, and he again stepped away.

‘Thee did not.’ Conan informed, and bowed as an afterthought. ‘Majesty.’

As much as Tory didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, she didn’t like this man. He had the look of an elitist snob about him. His fair hair, skin and pale blue eyes would have made him rather attractive had he not been sporting such a sour expression. Tory suspected that his face might crack if he smiled.

‘Can I assist thee in some way?’ Conan inquired, maintaining his distance.

‘Perhaps.’ Tory considered how best to phrase her question. ‘The alliance was informed today that Aurelius Caninus will soon be handing over the rulership of Gwent to his son, Conan. And as an advisor to Aurelius, I thought that perhaps thee might be able to tell us something of our new ally’s character?’

A slight smirk crossed Conan’s face, believing as he did that the great messenger of a supposed Goddess was fooled. So much for otherworldly powers, he thought, looking back to the goings on around the fires. ‘Aurelius Conan will not look kindly upon thy pagan ways, Majesty, that much I can tell thee.’

‘Really?’ Tory folded her arms, immediately irked by the tone of his response. ‘And why might that be? Hast he no respect for the beliefs of others?’ Tory sensed the anger building within him, and suddenly regretted that she’d chosen to wear a dress this evening.

‘What could such an orgy have to do with the pursuit of spiritual perfection and oneness with the Almighty?’ As soon as the statement left his lips, Conan knew that he betrayed the Briton identity that he had assumed; he must divert the Queen’s attention before she questioned him about his religious preferences, for he remembered little of the native beliefs. ‘Look.’ He pointed to a young lad who was vanquishing a woman at least ten years his senior. ‘The corruption of young boys! Why, that lad couldn’t be more than fourteen years on this earth.’

Tory looked twice, realising she knew the lad in question. He was Calin Brockwell’s eldest son. ‘Please excuse me a moment, Sir Eldred.’ Tory headed down to reprimand the Prince. ‘Bryce!’

Bryce cringed as the sound of his Sensei’s voice registered in his brain. He let go of the willing maiden that he’d spent half the night wooing, and resigned himself to the fact that he’d blown it. He should have lured her into the darkness of the fields sooner. As he watched the Queen of Gwynedd stride down towards him, Bryce admired her beauty — what a shame that she wasn’t the woman accompanying him into the fields this night.

‘Doth thy parents know thou art out here?’ she quizzed him.

‘Father dost,’ Bryce was pleased to inform.

‘But not thy mother,’ Tory clarified.

‘Hardly,’ Bryce grumbled. ‘She still believes me a virgin.’

The lad’s statement shocked Tory a little and this must have reflected in her face.

‘Ha, ha,’ Bryce chuckled breaking into a huge smile, ‘I made thee think, Sensei, did I not?’ He winked at her.

Bryce’s gall never ceased to amaze Tory, for he made no secret of the fact that he adored her, and had even informed Maelgwn that he planned to marry her as soon as the Dragon departed this earth.

‘Let the lad be.’

Tory was surprised by the instruction as Taliesin suddenly manifested beside her.

‘All due respect, High Merlin, I shall not let the lad be.’ She took Bryce by the arm, whereby he twisted his hand down to take hold of hers.

‘It be his time.’ Taliesin gently pried their hands apart, receiving more resistance from Bryce than Tory.

The tone of the Merlin’s voice let Tory know that he knew something that she did not, and so Tory complied with his wish.

‘Off with thee, boy.’ The Merlin repressed a smile as the lad could obviously not believe his luck.

‘I shall not forget this, High Merlin,’ Bryce grinned, taking hold of the maiden’s hand and making off with her.

‘Aye, that be true enough,’ he chuckled, looking back to Tory.

‘Alright, Taliesin, out with it.’ Now that they were alone, Tory’s address became less formal.

Taliesin held up a finger, putting her off a moment, and he turned to observe Aurelius Conan who had been watching Tory intently. As Taliesin took a few steps in Conan’s direction, the soon-to-be chieftain backed up and made haste back into the crowds in the inner bailey. ‘He exhibits all the fear of a pawn of Rome.’

‘Well, what dost thou expect? Thee did not have to miraculously manifest beside me,’ Tory scolded, not happy that Taliesin had fed Conan’s fear. ‘Could thee not have walked, like any normal person?’

‘The more fear of the Goddess and her people that we instil in that one, the better,’ the Merlin stated, appearing to have a bad taste in his mouth.

‘Tell me what you know,’ Tory demanded, completely unaware that Maelgwn was creeping up behind her. She gasped as her eyes were suddenly covered by his hands.

‘I have come to claim my due bounty,’ he whispered.

‘Maelgwn, please, I was just —’

‘Saying goodbye.’ Maelgwn finished the sentence for her, turning her around and bundling her onto his shoulder.

Tory realised a struggle might dampen Maelgwn’s enthusiasm, and having no desire to do that, she looked back to the Merlin to announce, ‘I want to see thee first thing on the morrow.’

‘Maybe second thing.’ Maelgwn turned back to advise the Merlin.

‘We shall see what eventuates,’ Taliesin said to himself.

In an attempt to avoid witnessing any more of the Briton’s unnatural activities, Conan shied away from the main guest area and crept back into the castle via the kitchen entrance.

‘Sir Eldred?’ Cara spied him creeping through her food preparation area, and moved to inquire as to what was amiss with him. ‘Can I fetch thee something?’

His eyes closed at the sound of her voice, for it had a warmth and joyous tone that reminded him so much of another he had loved. ‘Nothing for me.’ Conan turned to behold the Lady Cara and in the brightly-lit kitchens she appeared even more like the lovely maiden, Olivia, whose affections he had pursued in Ravenna.

Olivia, the daughter of a wealthy Roman senior, had rejected Conan’s advances because of his breeding. But here she was again, transformed into a Briton.

The Lady smelt like a field of spring flowers, and just as all his being had craved Olivia, Conan found his unsatisfied senses of touch and taste wanting to experience this woman more intimately.

‘Art thou sure … a drink perhaps.’ Cara began pouring the mead from a barrel before Conan could decline.

‘Thy smile be the greatest feast in this fortress,’ Conan wooed her, to see what kind of reaction he’d get. ‘I retire to my bed a content and happy man.’ He bowed and made to leave.

‘What a lovely thing to say.’ Cara was flattered. After ten years of marriage such comments from her husband were rare. Vortipor went on the theory that actions spoke louder than words.

‘Surely thou hast heard every praise to beauty that ever there was, a thousand times over?’ Conan turned to face her and slowly backed up a few steps. Would she pursue him?

‘Not a thousand times.’ She forced a smile and looked back to her preparations.

As she didn’t really seem all that enthusiastic about going back to work, Conan suggested, ‘Hast thou seen the fires, Lady?’

Cara shook her head. ‘Too much to do.’

‘I think thou dost deserve a break.’ Conan offered her his arm to escort her down.

As charming as this young knight was, didn’t he realise that it would be highly inappropriate for her to attend the fires with anyone but Vortipor? ‘My husband shall come for me soon enough,’ she declined politely, moving back into the main kitchen where servants abounded.

He longed to ask Cara how such a flower as she had ended up married to a rogue ruler like Vortipor. She didn’t seem entirely happy in her role as the first lady of Dyfed and she certainly deserved better than to be ravaged so roughly in public.

Conan began to fancy that he could take the Lady Cara away from all this. He much preferred Ravenna anyway, and never had any intention of staying in this godforsaken part of the world. He would rule Gwent Is Coed; he just planned to do it from as far away as possible. A conquest or two before I go would be desirable, however … and to return to Ravenna victorious, with a beautiful heathen convert, would certainly impress.

‘The Dragon be watching thee.’

The caution started Conan and he turned to find the boy who’d been pestering him earlier.

‘Nothing escapes the Dragon’s eyes, Sir Eldred.’

The boy accentuated the name, as though he knew it was a falsehood. He had the look of the Dragon about him, dark hair, dark eyes, dark presence. It made Conan shudder to be near the child, and having seen all that he cared to, he made for his father’s chambers without further delay.

2

Fort of Fairies

Months passed before Tory saw a merlin again, and even then it wasn’t Taliesin.

‘Selwyn!’ Tory raced to embrace the wandering Druid, whom she had not seen for over a year. ‘What brings thee home to Gwynedd?’

‘Unfortunately, a concern, Majesty. I wish it could be otherwise.’ He humbled himself in the wake of her hug, thankful for the mothering comfort that only she gave him. ‘This man be from the camp of Aurelius Conan.’ He motioned to a soldier, quietly awaiting an audience by the door. ‘And what he hast to say will be of interest to thee.’

Maelgwn entered the west wing gallery and, upon sighting Selwyn, slapped his hands, overjoyed. ‘Praise the Goddess, a real harpist.’

Selwyn bowed deeply to his King, as did the soldier by the door.

‘Why all the long faces?’ Maelgwn’s good mood waned, along with his pace.

‘If I may, Majesties …’ The soldier came forward to tell his tale. ‘I am from the camp of Aurelius Conan, and although he shall rule Gwent Is Coed before long, I feel that my first allegiance be to the Goddess and her folk.’ He looked to Tory and bowed his head, reverently.

‘Thy devotion pleases the great mother,’ Tory assured him, urging him to continue.

‘My master plans to build a new stronghold in Gwent, but his choice of location be a puzzle. The selected site be a place known to the local folk as the Rock of Fortress, a sheer cliff face that rises steeply at the head of the Vale of Neath, Craig-y-Ddinas.’

‘What?’ Maelgwn, who was about to be seated, refrained. ‘But Craig-y-Ddinas borders Dyfed.’

‘My very thought, Majesty,’ the soldier confirmed. ‘Why build a stronghold on an ally’s border, unless —’

‘Unless thou art planning to have to defend thyself against that ally,’ Maelgwn summed up. ‘Hast the man taken leave of his senses! Conan must realise that he could never hope to win a war against the combined forces of four kingdoms.’

‘Conan could not have allies in Italy who would aid him in such a conquest,’ Tory informed, ‘as from what I remember of history, Justinian is currently planning the reconquest of the Roman Empire. All Roman forces shall be engaged in a war against the Goths until the final downfall of the Roman Empire about thirty years from now.’

The information made Maelgwn smile: there was a definite advantage in being married to a woman from the future. ‘But Conan doth not have access to thy sources, so he hast no idea that the Roman Empire be on the verge of a disaster.’

‘Begging your pardon, Majesties,’ the soldier spoke up. ‘I believe there be an even greater threat to Briton than my master’s plans.’

‘Go on.’ Maelgwn gave him leave to voice his concern.

‘Craig-y-Ddinas be a well known haunt of the Tylwyth Teg. Ever since construction started on the fortress, an unearthly mist hast descended on the site … tools, materials and men have gone missing. Aurelius Conan hast punished all those who speak about the strange occurrences at Craig-y-Ddinas, accusing them of trying to undermine his plans with superstitious nonsense.’ A look of utter bewilderment swept the soldier’s face. ‘My fellow kinsmen art trapped between the master’s wrath and that of the Tylwyth Teg, and quite frankly, I think I should rather face the might of Rome than the power of the dominion of nature.’

This was grave news. Maelgwn released a heavy sigh. The Tylwyth Teg had put him on the throne of Gwynedd, and could just as easily withdraw from his lands, whereby the prosperity of his kingdom would vanish along with them. ‘I wonder if Taliesin knows about this?’

‘I think he knew about it at Beltaine,’ commented Tory.

‘Damn it!’ Maelgwn cursed the High Merlin. ‘Why does he never say something before these disasters art upon us?’

‘Pardon me, Majesty.’ Selwyn cleared his throat before pointing out: ‘If Taliesin foresees a disaster, to forewarn of it be to feed the manifestation of it. Like everyone else he must wait for sure signs that the ill-event will come to pass before trying to avert it. For to try and avert a disaster that dost not exist would also be to acknowledge and permit the existence of it.’

The King could hardly believe that his one-time page was now tutoring him in the secret doctrine of the greater mysteries. ‘A fair point,’ Maelgwn conceded. ‘Still, whether or not Taliesin considers this situation volatile enough to take action, I do.’

‘I second thy view.’ Tory lent her support to any plan her husband might be hatching.

‘Alright.’ Maelgwn motioned them all in close. ‘Now, the way I see it, there art four courses of action that we must pursue at once …’

Selwyn, knowing more about the etheric world and its inhabitants than any in the room, was to go to Craig-y-Ddinas and try to seek an audience with the Tylwyth Teg.

The soldier would ride to Powys to inform King Brockwell of the recent developments in Gwent. Brockwell would then take word to Vortipor in Dyfed, along with additional forces to reinforce the eastern border of Vortipor’s kingdom.

Tory would attempt to seek Taliesin out, whilst Maelgwn went to Aurelius Caninus in Gwent to see what he could do about getting the construction on the fort halted.

‘I believe I can speed up the proceedings, Majesties.’ Selwyn bowed before gripping the hand of the soldier and assuring him, ‘I shall see thee swiftly to Powys.’ Looking back to Tory and Maelgwn, Selwyn grinned and vanished, the soldier with him.

‘Ahah!’ Tory cheered. ‘He mastered physical teleportation!’ She shook her head, amazed. ‘I do wish Taliesin would teach me that art … I may have learnt how to ride a horse, but I have yet to enjoy it.’ She sighed. Riding to Llyn Cerrig Bach was not really what she had planned for today.

‘Buck up.’ Maelgwn nudged her shoulder with his. ‘At least thou dost not have to ride to Gwent.’

Tory wasn’t entirely sure of that. ‘If I fail to find the High Merlin, I will.’

‘Thou shalt not fail.’ Maelgwn kissed her forehead. ‘Taliesin will always come to thy aid.’

We can only hope, she thought on the quiet. For if the High Merlin was of the mind to be elusive, Tory doubted the Goddess herself could find him.

Once he’d seen Tory, Selwyn and the soldier depart, Maelgwn went down onto the beach at Aberffraw, of the mind to seek the services of his dragon, Rufus. Besides one lone fisherman the beach was deserted, and even that soul was so far in the distance that he could barely be seen.

Usually when Maelgwn required the aid of his otherworldly affiliate he would have to enter the etheric realms to make contact with the creature. But today the King did not have the time to go seeking a doorway to the Otherworld, and the services of a merlin to oversee his journey into the ethers.

Maelgwn took a few moments to calm and focus his mind before summoning forth the dragon into the Middle Kingdoms of this physical plane of existence.

Rufus, old friend, I have great need of thee. Maelgwn projected his thoughts into the inner-space of his being. Once again the peace and prosperity of the Goddess’ lands art being threatened. I beg thee to speed me on my quest to avert this calamity, in the name of my forefathers and the great houses Don and Llyr!

At once a great mist began to rise off the water as the ocean itself appeared to billow and boil. From out of the waves, the great head of the creature emerged to address the King. The lone fisherman fled.

One does not usually do house calls, Dragon, Rufus bethought his tiny human charge.

‘I am most grateful for thy pains,’ Maelgwn assured. ‘I am in need of a flight of passage to Gwent Is Coed.’

Straight into a war zone. That figures, commented the dragon in a huff.

‘What dost thou know of it?’ Maelgwn quizzed.

Gwyn ap Nudd hast shrouded a large area of Gwent in mist, advised Rufus. Heaven help any human who wanders into his stronghold for they shall never find their way out.

‘It be Gwyn ap Nudd himself that we must appease?’ Maelgwn questioned, a little daunted by the notion.

Gwyn ap Nudd was the Lord of the dark hours, the King of the Tylwyth Teg, a formidable warrior and a stealthy hunter. It was said he had legions of deceased warlords at his disposal, an army of the very finest warriors to ever walk the face of Briton.

‘Wonderful,’ whined Maelgwn, as Rufus nodded to affirm his claim.

Maelgwn’s first concern was for Selwyn, who was probably already lost in the otherworldly mists. Still, the young Druid did amaze him every subsequent visit with his comprehension and practice of the sacred mysteries. Better that he had sent Selwyn than any of his subjects, as the young bard’s innocence and sense of childlike wonder would, without doubt, be the best defence when travelling through the regions of Gwyn ap Nudd.

So then, Dragon. What be one’s enticement to accompany thee on this fools crusade? Rufus cut straight through the small talk to get down to the serious negotiations.

Maelgwn scratched his head. ‘I had not given thy payment any thought.’

Never do, said the dragon.

‘Well, what would thee like?’ The King hoped the dragon had eaten already, as he had a taste for grievous human criminals and Gwynedd’s jails were not host to any at present.

O-oh … let one think. Rufus emerged from the water to lay on the sand and contemplate his price. What dost one desire most?

The dragon leant his head on his claw and tapped his talons against his hard scaly cheek as he was wafted away on a flight of fancy. Maelgwn began to lose patience. ‘I know where thou art from there be no such thing as time, but here it be rather a pressing concern. Could we possibly speed this along?’

Well, there art precious few things thee can give one that one cannot acquire on one’s own, the creature informed in a leading manner.

‘There must be something!’

The King was starting to get desperate and Rufus knew it. Well, there be one thing …

‘Then I implore thee to name it,’ Maelgwn urged.

The dragon fixed his eyes firmly on his charge. My freedom. Release me from my charge of thee, so that I am never again obliged to enter the Middle Kingdoms.

Maelgwn was taken aback and saddened by the dragon’s price. ‘But I would miss thee, Rufus.’

Then come visit one in the comfort of one’s etheric home. The King still seemed reluctant to part with the dragon’s services, which the creature had been ordered to provide his earthly charge by Keridwen. Rufus had got into the habit of bargaining with Maelgwn for his services, because the young King had once made the mistake of rewarding the dragon. On every escapade after that, Rufus expected an incentive. Maelgwn usually found it more convenient to bend to Rufus’ demands than to disturb the great Goddess. What’s more, the beast could make any quest as comfortable or treacherous as suited his whim — Maelgwn had found it paid to ensure the dragon was appeased. Rufus had finally found himself a way out of the punishment incurred by his terrorising the people of Dumnonia for a time.

One shall still watch over thee, Dragon, grant thee one’s virtues and award thee protection when travelling the ethers. Rufus crawled a little closer to Maelgwn, to get more intimate with him. One’s youth has fled, and exposure to the physical plane only speeds the ageing process and makes one’s aches and pains all the more obvious. Please, release one from this drudgery.

Maelgwn had to feel sorry for the beast, forever having to run to his rescue, and so agreed to Rufus’ price. ‘Take me to Gwent, Rufus, and I shall release thee from all thy physical plane obligations.’

One shall never ask for anything more. Rufus rose to take his last flight in the Middle Kingdoms of the physical world.

Tory arrived at Llyn Cerrig Bach to find Taliesin seated on the stairs of the temple ruins, which housed the gateway to his otherworldly abode.

His long, fine, silvery-white hair fell loose around his shoulders and sparkled in the dappled sunlight, as did the two long strands of his oriental-style moustache. A gentle smile graced the features of his youthful face; he appeared calm and contented, as always.

Annoyed, Tory dismounted from her horse. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Waiting for you,’ Taliesin replied in modern English, which he always employed when he and Tory were alone.

‘Well, you could have come to Aberffraw and saved me the ride.’ Tory came to stand before the Merlin, her hands perched on her hips.

‘I need your undivided attention, so it’s best that you are removed from the interruptions of your position.’

‘In that case, why didn’t you come get me?’ Tory seated herself beside him. ‘You know how I detest riding.’

‘Why didn’t you just will yourself here.’ Taliesin held up both hands in question. ‘You are perfectly able.’

Tory served the Merlin a sceptical look.

‘Have you ever seriously tried it?’ he challenged.

Tory couldn’t say that she had.

‘Unlike poor Selwyn, who has had to strive to refine and purify his spirit in order to achieve the feat of physical teleportation, the molecular structure of your body is entirely subject to your will, which is part and parcel of being one of the Chosen. The part of your being that is made up of etheric substance is now mature enough to understand and comply with your wishes. You already control your own molecules, to a degree, by projecting the outward illusion that you are aging, even though you are not. Teleportation is no harder to master, only harder in your mind. Just try it if you don’t believe me.’

Tory could see through his ploy. As usual, Taliesin was just trying to avoid the subject. ‘I want to know what Conan is up to in Gwent. Does he plan to attack Dyfed?’

‘He might,’ Taliesin shrugged, ‘if the mood takes him.’

Tory groaned, not prepared to match wits with the Merlin. ‘For heavens’ sake, Taliesin. For once, will you please just say what you mean!’

‘Conan is toying with us,’ he stated plainly, ‘and in more ways than even he realises.’

‘The contention he has caused with the Tylwyth Teg, you mean?’

Taliesin nodded. ‘The thing about the Tylwyth Teg is that they belong to an evolution quite distinct from our own. Their only connection with human beings is that we temporarily occupy the same planet. Usually the folk choose to ignore humankind altogether. The constant rush of astral currents set up by our restless and erratic desires disturb and annoy them. To establish any kind of a favourable acquaintance with the Tylwyth Teg, one must be free of the human practices they detest, like eating meat, taking intoxicating substances and general uncleanliness. The emotions of lust, anger, jealousy, greed and depression are also disagreeable to them, although some of the folk exhibit these traits themselves. Still, high and pure feelings that flow constant, without wild surges, create an atmosphere which will always attract the spirits of nature.’

‘So we did the right thing in sending Selwyn to make contact with them?’

‘Well, Selwyn should fare well with the folk, but unfortunately their leader, Gwyn ap Nudd, is not a nature spirit — he is one of the Goddess’ ilk. If he has felt compelled to punch a hole through the ethers into this physical plane in order to occupy and protect one of the sites sacred to the Tylwyth Teg, chances are that the Lord of the Night is not going to be in any mood to be reasonable.’

‘Is Selwyn in danger?’

Taliesin frowned. ‘The entities under Gwyn ap Nudd’s charge cannot dominate a human’s will, unless the subject is very weak-minded or fearful, yet they are capable of deceiving a human’s senses with their glamour.’

Tory didn’t really understand the term ‘glamour’. ‘Do you mean they can cause hallucinations?’

‘The often mischievous little creatures delight in deceiving all of man’s seven senses.’

In addition to taste, touch, smell, sight and hearing, the Briton’s considered speech and instinct to be senses also.

The Merlin cocked an eye to advise: ‘Those among the Tylwyth Teg that we might perceive as female are particularly good at it.’

Tory found herself grinning. ‘Surely Selwyn would not be susceptible to their charms?’

Now both Taliesin’s brows were raised. ‘Every man has his limits, Tory, and the folk’s telepathic skills ensure that they know what those limits are. If you think women of the physical plane are attractive, an etheric world beauty can appear ten times so.’

Tory’s grin broadened. ‘You have been seduced by such an entity,’ she more stated than asked.

A huge smile crossed Taliesin’s face, and he shrugged in a non-committal fashion. ‘That’s the other thing about wandering into the dominions of the Tylwyth Teg. One only remembers as much as they see fit … a fragment here, a moment there.’

The Merlin shrugged again and as he was obviously not going to comment further, Tory jumped back to the subject at hand. ‘What did you mean when you said Conan was toying with us?’

‘The man squanders Gwent’s resources as if he was only to be king for a day.’

Tory found this a rather intriguing observation. ‘So you think he’s planning to leave?’

‘The building of a fort on the border of an allied kingdom is an obvious distraction — the trouble is, Conan’s real motive eludes me.’

‘Well …’ Tory tossed a few possibilities around in her head. ‘If it’s not war for religion’s sake, as I first suspected … then it must be war for the sake of love.’ She looked to the Merlin, having found the answer that escaped him. ‘I’ll bet it’s Cara.’ Tory stood compelled by a memory. ‘Rhun perceived that Conan had taken an interest in her at the feast of Beltaine.’

Taliesin rolled his eyes, knowing the suggestion made sense. ‘I’d hate to think that all this turmoil is on account —’

From deep within the earth there was a great rumble. Both Tory and Taliesin ran clear of the temple ruins as small amounts of stone debris crumbled from what remained of the structure. The sky above clouded over and within moments the day had become as black as night.

‘What is it? An earthquake?’ Tory proffered.

Red mist began spewing forth from the centre of the temple ruins, and a pulsating light emanated from the altar stone in the heart of the sanctuary.

‘It’s an etheric quake,’ he uttered, before turning and grabbing Tory to guide her to her horse.

‘What are you doing?’ Tory resisted, trying to extract an explanation.

‘You have to leave.’ Taliesin glanced at the encroaching mist that would engulf them at any moment. ‘If I ever needed you to shut up and do as you’re told, it’s now! Go!’ He gave Tory a foot up onto her horse and then slapped the animal’s rear to get it moving.

Not so fast.

The warning resounded through Taliesin’s brain as the mist came over him. He turned back to behold a tall figure of a man silhouetted against the bright red mist at the temple entrance. The figure held out a hand towards the horse on which Tory fled, and the animal immediately reared up and threw her to the ground. She was knocked unconscious on impact.

Long time no see, Taliesin. The unearthly visitor descended the temple stairs. Still squandering thine energy on human beings, hey?

Taliesin didn’t rush to Tory’s aid, knowing she would not sustain any permanent injury; he stood his ground to confront the Lord of the Night. Thou dost exceed thy bounds, Gwyn. What dost thou want?

He asks, as if he did not know. The eight foot tall warrior emerged from the mists to stand over the Merlin. He was covered in green and red war paint which made his smile appear all the more devilish. Besides, my bounds art fast extending. He eyed the area now shrouded in mist. And it would be thy fault, Taliesin, for failing to protect the lands sacred to the Goddess’ folk from the ravages of thy precious human menace.

I wast in the process of addressing that problem. I am not permitted to interfere in the human disputes of the Middle Kingdoms, Gwyn, I can advise only. But I assure thee —

Not interested in hearing assurances. Gwyn ap Nudd held his palm out to cover the Merlin’s third eye and Taliesin froze.

Entities of hardened stone
claim this victim as thine own.

In accordance with thy Lord’s wish
trap him in an obelisk.

At the Night Hunter’s command liquid rock began to ooze from the earth at Taliesin’s feet and quickly encased his body from the feet up. Once the grey stone had covered him completely, it hardened into rock. Gwyn smiled as he admired the large obelisk that now stood in the Merlin’s place. Sorry Taliesin. Best that thee sit this dispute out. I do have the authority to take action and so I shall. The Lord’s attention turned to Tory. Bring forth my compensation, Gwyn commanded.

The mist gathered around Tory’s unconscious form, raising her clear off the ground to carry her forth to Gwyn ap Nudd.

Exceptional, for a human. He admired Tory’s aura. I am appeased, he decreed, turning and heading back to the otherworldly gateway he’d created in the centre of the temple. The mist followed its Lord back into the etheric realms, conveying Tory’s unconscious form along with it.

The dragon caused quite an uproar when it landed at Aurelius Caninus’ stronghold at Caerleon — the huge cobblestoned inner bailey served as a perfect landing pad for the creature.

Upon touchdown, Rufus released a loud screech and spewed flames into the sky high above the heads of the horrified locals.

‘Must thee, Rufus?’ Maelgwn knew he was just showing off.

If this be one’s last appearance, one wants it to be memorable, justified the beast, settling onto all fours and curling up so that Maelgwn could disembark.

The dragon’s display had sent everyone running for their lives, except old Aurelius’ first knight, Sir Leoline, who remained in attendance and hadn’t flinched an eyelid. ‘This be most unusual, Highness.’ He gave a slight bow to Maelgwn as he approached, and then eyed the dragon with distaste. ‘I trust thou hast fair cause for bringing such a beast into our kingdom?’

‘Aye, I have fair cause … a condition of the pact Aurelius signed with us hast been breached. I demand that the construction of the fort Conan builds at Craig-y-Ddinas be abandoned immediately.’

‘Why on earth should that concern the alliance, Majesty?’ Leoline wondered how Maelgwn even knew about Conan’s project.

‘The site he hast chosen be sacred to the Goddess’ folk —’ Maelgwn was interrupted when Sir Leoline burst into laughter.

‘Thou doth not heed the silly tales that the commoners spin?’ Leoline chuckled, until he noted how annoyed Maelgwn appeared.

‘I need to speak with Aurelius Caninus,’ the King demanded.

Leoline shook his head. ‘That would be quite impossible, as he hast taken ill.’

‘All the more reason that I should see him.’ Maelgwn sidestepped the older knight, and drew his sword as Leoline’s was heard to slip from its scabbard. The King turned to confront Aurelius’ champion. ‘I am here on behalf of the Goddess, friend. Do not bring her wrath upon thyself.’

Rufus, who had been lying quietly, gave a growl in support of his associate.

Leoline lowered his sword and shrugged. ‘Have it thy way, Dragon, but it shall prove a waste of time.’

Both men returned their swords to their scabbards, and Leoline led the way to his ailing leader.

As Maelgwn entered the bedchamber the familiar smell of death caught his attention right away.

Aurelius looked so small in his bed. In the two months since Beltaine, he had wasted away to nothing and his skin had turned so pale that Maelgwn feared he may have come too late. ‘How hast this happened?’ He turned to Leoline for an explanation.

‘We have tried everything, Majesty. He won’t eat,’ the knight stated in his defence.

Maelgwn gave Leoline the benefit of the doubt, as he had always served Maelgwn’s ally well. ‘Aurelius. Can thou speak with me?’

‘Dragon?’ The old man mumbled.

‘Aye, Aurelius, I am here.’ Maelgwn moved to kneel beside his old ally, so that he could view him without straining. Old wrinkled eyelids opened to reveal large bulging eyes, yet even this simple movement seemed to take a huge amount of effort on Aurelius’ behalf.

‘I knew thee would come, Dragon. I have failed the Great Goddess …’ he paused, short on breath. ‘The kingdom that I have ruled for sixty years I have allowed to fall into the hands of a marauder. Conan shall rape Gwent and abandon her … my family’s rule of this wondrous kingdom will end with me.’

Maelgwn looked to Leoline to catch his reaction.

Leoline shrugged, and whispered. ‘I fear his sensibilities art failing him, Majesty.’

As Aurelius kept mumbling, Maelgwn looked back to him.

‘I have been too ashamed to tell anyone that he hast raided the city treasury …’

‘Be this true?’ Maelgwn queried the first knight.

‘I shall check at once.’ Leoline hurried off to do so.

‘Dost thou know what Conan plans to do?’ Maelgwn beseeched his dying friend.

Aurelius gave a slight nod. ‘I am sorry, Dragon. The blessing be that he will not plague thee long.’ Then the old man attempted to reach out to Maelgwn, so the King took up his ally’s old, frail hand. ‘In his wake, promise me thou shalt claim Gwent and set her right.’

‘Thou hast my word,’ Maelgwn assured the old ruler calmly, although inside he grew increasingly alarmed. ‘Go to thy otherworldly abode at peace, Aurelius. Thou art a brave and righteous man. Thy vow to the Goddess be intact, for thee swore to honour her until thy dying day and that promise hast been kept.’

A tear of relief trickled from Aurelius’ eye. ‘Bless thee, Dragon.’ Aurelius Caninus smiled and breathed his last.

‘Goddess go with thee.’ Maelgwn eased the ruler’s weary old eyelids closed.

3

Whisked Away

Prince Bryce managed to persuade his father, King Brockwell, to let him accompany him on the Dragon’s errand to Dyfed. For the first time, the young Prince truly felt like a warrior, leading the great army from Powys across country to the aid of their ally.

Their party maintained a good steady pace during the daylight hours, but as night fell they were forced to slow to a walking pace.

With the gentle sway of the horse beneath him, and the night dulling all visual stimulation, Bryce began to doze on his mount.

‘Bryce?’ Brockwell noticed his boy collapsing forwards.

‘Aye, Father,’ Bryce snapped to attention.

‘Dost thou think we should rest?’ Brockwell questioned, seeking an honest reply. ‘Naturally, I would like to make Dyfed as soon as possible … but these troops will be of no use to Vortipor half dead.’

Bryce took a moment to consider his response. ‘As I am the youngest warrior here, I think that as long as I can keep going, so should our troops manage.’

‘But thou art on horseback and many of the men art on foot?’ Brockwell furthered the debate.

‘Then I shall walk.’ Bryce pulled up his horse and climbed off.

‘Good idea.’ Brockwell followed his son’s example. ‘It shall help keep us awake.’

With this, all of the nobles and knights of Powys who were on horseback climbed off their mounts. Bryce suggested that the foot soldiers could take turns to ride for a spell to help keep their force rested.

That was the thing about the young Prince; he was great for morale. The soldiers adored and respected him, as Bryce had helped train much of their force in the Goddess’ way of battle. He had begun his training with the Queen of Gwynedd at the age of five, making him her longest standing student outside her circle of twelve Masters. Bryce was tipped to become the next to join but, unfortunately, a position had to become vacant before Bryce could achieve his ultimate goal.

‘So …’ Brockwell strolled alongside his son. ‘What shall we talk about?’

‘Women?’ suggested Bryce.

Although Brockwell could not see the expression on Bryce’s face, he could hear a hesitancy in his voice. ‘One of my favourite subjects.’ Brockwell seconded the choice of topic. ‘Any particular facet?’

‘Actually, Father, I was wondering if thee might tell me what my mother wast like. Wast she beautiful?’

Bryce had not been born of Brockwell’s queen, Katren, but of a young and willing whore from Aberffraw. Brockwell had never really broached the subject of Bryce’s real mother with him, as in truth he remembered little of the girl.

I only ever saw her the once, in a blur of Beltaine revelry. It wast dark, I wast drunk. Brockwell rehearsed the true story in his mind, but that was not what his son needed to hear. ‘Aye, she wast a fair one, alright,’ he told him, ‘and innocent.’ Brockwell tried to sound ashamed about what he’d done. ‘If it wast not for the fact of thee, I would regret that I stole that innocence from her, for by so doing I sealed her fate.’

The latter part of his tale was true enough, for the girl had died giving birth to Bryce. But she was not so innocent, as it had been she who had seduced him. That much Brockwell did remember. Still, the King had a special place in his heart for the nameless, faceless girl who had died in giving him the most precious gift of his firstborn son.

‘Why did thee not marry her?’ Bryce startled his father with the question.

‘Well, eh?’ Brockwell prayed he’d find some diplomatic response. ‘I wast young, like thee. Would thee like to marry before thou hast experienced all that women have to offer?’

‘I would marry Tory Alexander,’ Bryce replied surely, to his father’s great amusement.

Brockwell had once had a crush on the Queen of Gwynedd before his good lady wife had stolen his heart. ‘I had the pleasure of partaking of our Sensei’s kiss once,’ Brockwell boasted, knowing the tale was sure to get them off the subject of Bryce’s mother.

‘Nay, I do not believe thee.’ Bryce jumped to the bait.

‘Understand, this wast before the Dragon claimed her for his queen …’ he began.

The King’s slightly exaggerated account of his brief encounter with Tory Alexander completely disrupted Bryce’s original train of thought. ‘If I had touched her breast, I would never have washed my hand again,’ Bryce proposed in the wake of his father’s confession.

‘Then thee would have had precious little chance of touching her breast again,’ Brockwell chuckled, as he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

The force from Powys rested once the moon had begun its descent towards morning. At dawn they resumed their march and reached Castle Dwyran before noon that day.

The foot soldiers dispersed to relax in the outer bailey grounds, whilst the nobles escorted their King and Prince to the inner bailey of Vortipor’s stronghold. Here, the Protector was waiting to greet them.

‘Hast a war erupted that I should know about?’ Vortipor made jest of his ally’s surprise visit.

‘Let us talk indoors.’ Brockwell dismounted, his expression conveying the gravity of his mission. ‘But why war with me?’ Vortipor posed, having been informed of Conan’s activities. ‘There be nothing I have that he could not obtain peacefully, via trade, just as his father hast always done.’

The question puzzled Vortipor and Brockwell a second, whereby they both recalled Rhun’s truthsaying during Beltaine.

‘Except —’ Brockwell began.

‘My wife.’ The Protector of Dyfed went white with shock and then red with rage.

‘Control,’ Brockwell urged his fellow ruler. ‘Where shall we find thy wife at present?’

‘Ah.’ In his agitated state, Vortipor’s mind went blank. ‘Oh Goddess!’ he cried as her whereabouts dawned on him. ‘She hast taken Bridgit on a picnic beyond the outer bailey. As a Master of the Goddess, Cara will not tolerate a guard —’

‘Do you know where she would go?’ Brockwell’s forthright manner stifled Vortipor’s panic.

As the Protector thought, his worry was momentarily overcome by sadness. For he realised it was so rare that he made the time to accompany his wife and daughter on a picnic, he had never learnt their favourite spots. At last, he could only shake his head in response to Brockwell’s query.

Bryce sat quietly in an out-of-the-way corner, so that he might not be sent from the room before learning all about the Dragon’s cause. Now that all had been said, however, the Prince felt it safe to make himself known. ‘Excuse I —’

The lad gave Vortipor and his father quite a start. Brockwell was immediately annoyed at himself for having forgotten to dismiss his son. ‘Thou art well aware that thee should not be in here.’

‘But —’ Bryce tried to speak up.

He knew where the Lady Cara might have taken Bridgit, as he had accompanied the children and the ladies of his kindred on a picnic the day before Beltaine.

The door to Vortipor’s Room of Court swung open and Sir Queron, Vortipor’s right-hand man, entered. ‘My Lord Protector,’ he bowed. ‘A war band hast been spotted near Dynevor.’

‘Dynevor be a stone’s throw away from Craig-y-Ddinas,’ Vortipor commented, concerned and a little confused — perhaps Conan was just out for territory and wasn’t after his wife after all?

As their situation was fast becoming a state of alert, Brockwell ushered his boy out of the room.

‘Father, please listen. I —’

‘Do not push me.’ Brockwell’s tone and mood were not to be reckoned with.

Next thing, Bryce found himself shut out of the meeting. ‘Oh well,’ he shrugged. He would just go fetch the Lady Cara back himself, and save his superiors the trouble.

The Dragon’s cause was a good excuse to ride his horse at breakneck speed. Bryce followed the road through the common as far as the open fields, where he took off across country towards the bank of the Du River. A little light forest lined the waters edge and provided many a lovely spot for feasting and relaxing. The track through the trees here was wide and well-worn; still, Bryce slowed his pace to search for the ladies, Cara and Bridgit.

As Cara had chosen the far side of a large oak tree between the track and the water’s edge to lay her picnic, the ladies spied the Prince as he passed them by.

‘Prince Bryce!’ Bridgit yelled after him, to alert him to their whereabouts.

Bryce turned round on his mount, to find the girl leaning over one of an oak tree’s large exposed roots.

‘Come join us,’ Bridgit beckoned. At eight years of age, she was most excited by the Prince’s surprise visit.

‘The Lady Cara be required back at court at once,’ he advised, dismounting.

‘Oh!’ Cara groaned, sitting up to view the young Prince over the oak root. ‘What brings thee back to Dyfed? Be it really so pressing that I must come at once? I just got comfortable.’

Bryce held out his reins to her. ‘Thee should ride. I shall assist the Lady Bridgit to pack up here and then escort her back on foot.’

Cara raised herself and wandered over to Bryce. ‘I am not sure that I would trust thee with my daughter after thy escapade the night of Beltaine.’

Bryce smiled broadly, a little embarrassed yet pleased that word of his conquest was getting around. ‘If thou dost not trust me, Lady Cara, then perhaps the Lady Bridgit should accompany thee back on my horse?’

‘Mother!’ Bridgit fretted, having much preferred Bryce’s plan.

‘I have a feeling she would rather accompany thee,’ Cara whispered as she took the horse’s reins from the handsome young lad.

‘I shall do my best to control myself.’ Bryce winked at Cara, as she got comfortable on her mount. ‘Make the greatest haste to thy husband, Lady. Do not stop for any reason.’ Bryce kept his tone light and easy for Bridgit’s benefit.

‘I understand,’ Cara frowned, wondering what grievous news awaited her at home. She dug her heels into the horse and took off to find out.

Bryce got the picnic packed up quickly and set off back down the track with Bridgit in tow. Whilst the girl babbled on about a dress that was being made for her, Bryce smiled politely not really listening. He was happily following the fresh hoof marks his horse had left in the dirt track as it carried the Lady Cara back to the safety of the stronghold. Then, like a nightmare, from each side of the forest track sprang other sets of fresh hoof marks.

‘Nay!’ Bryce cried, dropping everything to sprint into the open field up ahead.

‘Bryce?’ Bridgit ran after him and caught him up where he’d stopped in the field. ‘What hast happened?’ Her eyes caught sight of Bryce’s horse grazing nearby and she was immediately thrown into a state of panic. ‘What hast happened to Mother?’

The way Bryce saw it, he didn’t have any time to waste. ‘Bridgit.’ He grabbed the girl by both her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. ‘I need thee to be brave for me.’

Bridgit got her horror under control and then nodded to receive her instruction.

‘Tell thy father and mine that I am tracking the Lady Cara while the trail be fresh and the daylight good.’

Bridgit burst into tears, but nodded and moved off.

‘Tears will not save thy mother. Run girl!’ Bryce urged her, as he climbed upon his horse. ‘And don’t stop running until thou hast reached thy father.’

As Bridgit complied, Bryce spurred his horse on in the one direction the Lady Cara’s captors could have fled — downriver.

As consciousness returned, the first thing Tory became aware of was the sound of swarming insects. Still dozing, she swatted the air around her to discourage any bug that might have an interest in her and was surprised to hear a gaggle of muttered protests.

Upon opening her eyes, Tory was startled by the multitudes of tiny, brightly coloured lights that thronged around her body — they literally covered every inch of her from the neck down and filled all the air space within a two foot radius of her.

‘Shoo!’ she sat upright, brushing the glowing menace from herself. The lights shrank to a safe distance, revealing their work in progress — a gown entirely composed of flowers that had been intricately woven into a creation that hugged Tory’s body like a second skin. Even though Tory was not a very feminine kind of girl, she couldn’t help but admire the magnificent work of art she wore. ‘Dear Goddess …’ She climbed down off the flat mossy mound on which she sat and took a few steps, whereby she discovered a train of flowers flowing behind her. Strangely enough the dress felt as soft as the purest cotton to wear and just as light to carry. ‘This is amazing.’ She gasped in awe, running her fingers gently over the flowers on her belly and the aroma they gave off was heavenly.

‘Aw!’ All the tiny lights gave a cry of delight ahead of hurrying back to work.

Suddenly the dress felt alive, Tory could feel the little beings darting around in the fabric. ‘Stop it!’ She brushed them away, with little success this time. She tried to rip the dress off, whereby every fibre of it tightened around her body; as soon as she let go, the garment loosened once more. ‘Goddamn it! What is going on?’ For the first time, Tory stopped to take a good look around.

She was in a woodland, akin to only one place she’d seen before. Taliesin had an otherworldly garden that Maelgwn had taken her to once, and it had appeared like this wood did — so picture perfect and lush, it seemed as if it had manifested straight out of a fairytale. Everything around her radiated with such colour it seemed as if they were fed by an ultra-bright light that made them glow accordingly. Tory looked to the sky to find the sun’s golden hue was glowing ultra-blue. ‘Where the hell am I?’

One of the fairy lights floated up to Tory’s eye level and then began spewing forth a sparkling dust into her face.

The substance blinded Tory a moment, but as her tears cleared, Tory could see the winged being inside the tiny light.

‘Nearly done,’ it said. ‘Please bear with us.’

She couldn’t quite make out if the little being was a he or she, even though it was naked. ‘What is this in aid of?’

‘The Lord’s orders,’ it said.

‘The Lord?’ Tory queried further.

That would be me.

Every little spectre suddenly sprang from Tory’s dress and floated clear of her to assume a form the size of your average ten-year-old child, although their ages appeared to vary. All the winged beings fluttered, poised in midair, and Tory turned to observe the man they all revered.

Oh my! thought Tory, for their Lord was rather large. He stood about eight feet tall, and although he had the physique of a warrior, he controlled the movements of his muscle-bound body with all the grace of a dancer.

You are more than you seem, Tory, Queen of Gwynedd, he bethought as he circled her, admiring the handiwork of his folk. You are not of the time period I obtained you from, nor are you of the breed you reside with.

‘I could say the same of you,’ Tory replied, for if he spoke modern English then he’d obviously been hopping around time as Taliesin did. It was also plainly obvious that he was not of the same species as those folk he governed. He was one of the Goddess Keridwen’s ilk; his large almond-shaped eyes of deep sea green and his pixie-like features were a dead giveaway.

You, like Taliesin, are a halfling demi-god … a human-otherworld cross. The Lord observed her as if she were some exotic new breed of bug. I must say, I did not expect my compensation to be this perfect.

As Tory was still preoccupied with the first half of his statement, it took a moment for the second part to sink in. ‘Compensation! Compensation for what … Conan’s fort building?’

The Lord shook his head and made a slicing motion with his hand towards a nearby tree.

The trunk of the old tree parted to reveal a hollow in which sat Selwyn.

‘Selwyn!’ Tory made a move to help him from his timber prison, and discovered her beautiful attire had a dual purpose. From the long train of flowers at the back of her gown sprouted thick, ivy vines that ploughed deep into the earth, rooting Tory to the spot. ‘Let me out of this thing!’ she demanded.

This man has no woman, is that correct? the Lord questioned, motioning to Selwyn.

Tory frowned — was this a trick question? Selwyn’s expression was solemn and gave no indication as to the right response to give. As the Lord spoke to Tory in her own native modern English, instead of the ancient Brythanic tongue the Briton’s used, Selwyn couldn’t possibly have understood their dialogue anyway, so Tory told the truth. ‘That is correct.’

And this man answers to your husband, the Dragon of the Isle of Mon Anglesey?

Again Tory was confused, for although Selwyn had been born and raised in Gwynedd, he was Bard to the court of Powys these days. ‘Yes,’ she replied simply, wondering where this line of questioning was leading.

The Lord smiled, satisfied, and looked to Selwyn. Be this the woman who means more to thee than any other in thy world?

Tears fell from Selwyn’s eyes as he stared at Tory. ‘I have failed thee badly, Majesty.’

‘Nay.’ Tory couldn’t imagine Selwyn ever failing her. ‘There must be some misunderstanding —’

The Lord waved his hand and the neckline of Tory’s dress grew to cover her mouth and silence her.

If Tory tried to pull the gag down it tightened to crushing intensity until she let go.

Just answer my question, Bard! Gwyn roared. I know she be the one, I just want to hear thee declare it.

‘Aye,’ Selwyn conceded stubbornly. ‘This be the woman who means more to me than any other in existence.’ The Bard bowed his head, unable to look Tory in the face.

The Lord laughed with satisfaction. Enough, he decreed, holding a hand to Tory’s third eye, whereby she blacked out.

Upon receiving news of the Lady Cara’s disappearance, Vortipor and Brockwell were forced to part company.

Brockwell wished to pursue his son, but as it was Cara who was in the greatest danger, Vortipor convinced the King of Powys to lead a force to Dynevor to contend with the army of Conan. As Brockwell felt fairly confident that his son could take care of himself, he agreed to allow the Protector to Bryce.

Vortipor hoped Brockwell’s assessment of Bryce was accurate as some way downriver from Castle Dwyran the Protector and his hunting party found the Prince’s horse. After a quick search of the riverbank they found no evidence of a struggle nor any sign of Bryce’s body. Another two horses were tracked further downriver, where they were found grazing peacefully on the lush grasses by the water’s edge.

‘I am guessing that whomever hast abducted the Lady Cara made good their escape via boat,’ Sir Queron assessed.

Vortipor was most frustrated by the development. ‘We know who hast taken her! And the young Prince of Powys it would seem.’ The ruler calmed himself, not wanting to vent his frustrations on his most trusted advisor. ‘But surely, if Conan wast headed back to Gwent a ride across country would have been a faster route?’

‘Unless …’ Queron hesitated to even suggest it, ‘Conan be bound for another destination altogether?’

‘Armorica?’ Vortipor saw the possibilities that his champion’s reasoning presented.

Both Vortipor and Aurelius had strong ties to Armorica, the kingdom on the closest tip of Gaul below Briton. This part of the world was now more commonly known as Brittany, due to the large number of Britons who had fled there during the Saxon invasion the previous century. Both Dyfed and Gwent had many seafaring vessels which sailed to and from Brittany to do trade with the Bretons who in turn traded with the Roman and Frankish empires beyond. This trade was achieved via Christian channels mainly, as the Bretons who inhabited the southern part of Brittany were, in the main, of that faith, as were the Franks and their Roman neighbours. And although the Christian doctrines of these empires all varied, it still served them all to keep the trade routes open and prosperous.

‘If that be his mind, Lord Protector, we must pursue him by sea.’ Queron pushed for a decision, for it was several hours in the saddle to the bay at Aberdaugleddau that harboured Dyfed’s ships of trade.

Vortipor was hesitant to embark on such a mission, with his kingdom in peril. What was Conan playing at? Was Cara’s kidnapping the diversion for an invasion of Dyfed, or was Gwent’s invasion meant to distract him whilst Conan absconded with his wife?

‘I know my first duty be to my kingdom and allies,’ Vortipor deliberated, finding no peace in his reasoning. ‘But I must go after Cara. Go back to Castle Dwyran and maintain the chain of command.’ Vortipor mounted his horse. ‘Conan could not have brought a seagoing vessel upriver, so I shall take these men downriver and hopefully catch him up before he reaches his larger transport.’

Queron nodded. ‘Goddess go with thee, Lord.’

In his head Vortipor knew that he should be sending Queron after his wife, but his heart would not allow it. May the Goddess forgive me for abandoning my duty to pursue my own selfish ends, he prayed. The Protector looked to his champion, his expression grave. ‘In the event that I should not return, Queron, my daughter —’

‘Have no worry on that count,’ the middle-aged knight assured him.

Vortipor was pleased to be spared from having to fully consider the consequences of his decision. ‘Follow me.’ He waved the rest of the search party on to assist in the recovery of his wife.

Rufus was kind enough to extend his services on this last mission to include a flight to Craig-y-Ddinas. When Sir Leoline had found the city coffers pilfered, Maelgwn thought it high time he visited Craig-y-Ddinas to assess the situation there for himself.

The King of Gwynedd was by his dragon in the courtyard, bidding Leoline farewell, when he spotted a man in monk’s attire heading into the back of the castle via the servant’s entrance.

‘It wast my king’s wish to receive the burial rights of both the native and Christian faiths,’ Leoline explained, as he followed Maelgwn in his pursuit of the holy man.

‘Samson?’ Maelgwn called after the monk, who stopped and turned around upon hearing his name called.

It took a moment for Samson to put a name to the face of the warrior before him, although it registered immediately that he had known him well. The monk smiled as it finally dawned on him. ‘Maelgwn Gwynedd … King!’ He bowed upon realising how far the man had come since they had studied together under the Roman priests of Dumnonia.

Maelgwn waved off the formalities and strode forth to embrace the man who had once been a close and trusted friend. ‘What art thou doing here in Gwent?’

Leoline backed off a little when he realised the men knew each other.

‘I reside at the monastery in Glamorgan these days,’ Samson returned the King’s fond sentiments. Maelgwn stepped away to observe him and Samson saw the added surprise on the King’s face.

‘Father?’ Maelgwn noted from the attire that Samson was more than just a student of the Roman priests; he had taken up their cause.

The priest gave a nod of confirmation. ‘Lord Bishop, in fact.’ Samson smiled at Maelgwn’s shock. ‘For two lads who were once so alike, we certainly grew into very different men.’

‘Not so different, I think.’ Maelgwn always knew a kindred spirit and he felt sure the years had not changed this man that much.

‘What a shame that my king hast urgent need of —’

The bells of the city tolled to announce the King’s death.

Dread filled Samson’s face as he looked to Leoline for confirmation.

The knight nodded, solemnly.

‘I wast with him,’ Maelgwn informed, placing a hand on the Bishop’s shoulder for reassurance. ‘He went to the Goddess in peace.’

Samson’s attitude towards Maelgwn took a sudden swing towards annoyance, and he shrank from the King’s touch. ‘He went to God,’ he corrected, ‘the one Almighty God.’

‘But there be more to the one Almighty God and his dominions than Christianity be willing to accept,’ argued Maelgwn. ‘I have read the Scriptures, Samson, which art seriously misleading and contrived.’

‘Seriously misleading and contrived!’ The Bishop could hardly contain his disdain. ‘Thy wife be a warrioress from the future who hast been given supernatural powers by a trine goddess. Thou dost consort with Gods and wizards in otherworldly realms, summon dragons from the ethers, invoke the elements, fight with witches, and almost single-handedly take over entire kingdoms!’

Maelgwn nodded in accord with everything Samson had said. ‘Thee left out that we drove back the Saxons and allied six kingdoms.’

‘With a fanciful lie!’ Samson snapped.

The King’s tale spinning had cost the local monasteries dearly, as the people of Gwent Is Coed had flocked back to the far more festive ways of the native faith.

‘Aurelius Conan will expel thy nonsense from this kingdom,’ Samson stated with great conviction, but he refrained from further comment as Leoline shook his head to the negative and informed him:

‘There have been developments that seem to indicate that Conan hast fled the kingdom.’

‘Nay, surely not … Conan hast spent so many years preparing for this appointment.’ Samson was devastated by the news.

As there was no condolence that Maelgwn could conceive of that might ease the Bishop’s disappointment, he backed up. ‘Well, I must away. I shall keep ye informed of my findings.’

Samson watched Maelgwn leave, then wandered into the courtyard outside the kitchens to sit for a spell and recover from the unexpected news. A large object passing overhead cast its shadow over the Bishop. He looked up and, for a moment, he thought he saw a large winged beast ascending towards the clouds overhead. ‘Dear God!’ Samson stood, shading his eyes to get a better look, but the creature had gone. I wast told the Dragon’s madness was infectious. Samson worried about his own soundness of mind, then resolved that he would not be fooled as others had.

Even before Samson had met him, Maelgwn had been credited with feats of otherworldly magic, which as a Prince he had never confirmed or denied, nor even mentioned.

Because he wast in God’s fold, and thus could not spin the lies he dost now, Samson reasoned.

‘Lord Bishop.’ Leoline handed him a goblet of water. ‘It be a great shock, I realise.’

Samson wasn’t sure if Leoline referred to the death of the King, the disappearance of the Prince, or the apparition of a dragon in the sky. Still, he accepted the drink. ‘Where wast the Dragon headed?’

‘To Craig-y-Ddinas,’ Leoline explained, hesitant to say more.

‘But Craig-y-Ddinas be in the heart of a wilderness?’ Samson frowned, inviting the knight to fill him in.

‘Conan began the construction of a fort there,’ Leoline began, ‘and since then there have been reports that the Otherworld hast broken loose in defiance.’

Samson had never heard such rubbish. ‘Sir Leoline!’ He was surprised that the knight would give such stories any credence, for he was supposedly a supporter of Christianity in Gwent Is Coed. ‘Thou art not aiding God’s cause by —’

‘I am only telling thee what hast been reported, my Lord Bishop.’ Leoline had predicted the holy man’s reaction.

‘Who hast reported thus? Maelgwn Gwynedd?’ he queried, as if it was a foregone conclusion.

Leoline shook his head. ‘My own men,’ he said bitterly, as some of his soldiers had gone missing. ‘Best that thou dost leave to the crown what be the crown’s business, and see to thy charge before the druids arrive to administer their rites.’

Samson withheld his protest on that count, knowing it would be a waste of breath. The only way he would succeed in returning his lost brethren to the ways of Christianity was to expose the Dragon’s hoax. After he had attended to the King, that was exactly what Samson intended to do.

The rocking motion of her head brought Cara to consciousness. Her body felt stiff, so she attempted to reposition herself only to realise that her hands were shackled to something. Her head felt heavy to lift, but as her legs were free, she wriggled herself into a seated position.

She was chained to a small, forged iron bunk bed in the cargo hold of a boat. Cara knew this as the swaying room reeked of rotten food, fish, animal waste and old wine. ‘Dear Goddess,’ she uttered. ‘How have I come to be here?’

The last thing she recalled was leaving Prince Bryce with her daughter.

Please Goddess, let her be alright.

Bryce was a cunning warrior for one so young, who would die defending one of his kinswomen if it came to that. Bridgit was in good hands and Cara sensed in her heart that her child was safe.

She was not as sure about her own wellbeing however. Why on earth would anyone want to abduct her? The throbbing at the back of her head had a large lump accompanying it that was rather tender to the touch. She had obviously been walloped with a heavy object and could only guess at how long her concussion had lasted.

The hatch door above the ladder that led to the upper deck opened. As he was silhouetted against the glare of the sky above, Cara could only make out the vague form of the man who descended before he closed the hatch door behind himself. Due to the burst of daylight, Cara was blinded until her eyes readjusted to the dim light of the cargo hold. ‘Who art thou? What does thou want with me?’ she questioned the shadow behind the inky blackness that shrouded her sight.

‘Fear not, Lady Cara, I am thy saviour, sent from God.’ He stepped into a ray of light that filtered through the wooden boards of the deck above.

‘Sir Eldred!’ she gasped.

‘Otherwise known as Aurelius Conan.’ This time it was Conan who smiled at Cara’s misconception; those native halfwits still hadn’t worked out who he was.

‘Thou art the son of Aurelius Caninus?’ She gasped again.

‘Soon to be King of Gwent Is Coed.’ He sat on the bunk, placing a tray of food between them. ‘And I am at thy service, Lady. Please eat.’

Cara frowned. If he was at her service than why was she chained up? ‘Art thou going to remove my shackles?’ she questioned, trying not to sound too hopeful — with any luck he wasn’t aware that she was one of the Twelve Masters of the Goddess.

‘Soon,’ he assured.

Cara’s immediate reaction was to be enraged, but she realised that from the way Conan was observing her a more subtle form of persuasion might serve her better. ‘So what dost thou intend to do with me?’ The Lady turned on the defenceless female charm.

‘That really depends on thee.’ He poured her a glass of mead and handed it to her.

Conan described the amazing world beyond these primitive shores and of his plans to return there. He showed Cara the chests full of riches that he had appropriated from the city treasuries at Caerleon and Caerwent.

‘I want thee to come with me, Cara … I am offering thee a chance at a better life.’

Cara sat listening with horror at his intent, although her contempt did not reflect in her face; her outward expression was one of serious consideration.

The hatch door opened and a crew member yelled down to advise the Prince that a heavy mist was descending, thus they would have to anchor ship until it lifted.

Conan wasn’t too worried by the delay; if they couldn’t see their way out of this bay, his pursuers couldn’t possibly see his ship. And even if they did spot it, it was a fair ride from here to reach any of Dyfed’s seagoing vessels.

Cara was relieved by the information. It bought her a bit of time to escape Conan’s clutches before they headed for open sea. She needed to persuade him to remove her shackles.

‘It looks as if we shall be stuck here awhile … art these really necessary?’ Cara held the heavy iron bands out towards him, making it appear a great effort for her to do so.

‘Dost thou accept my proposal?’

It was clear to Cara that Conan wanted her, and so wanted to free her. ‘When it comes to men,’ she advised in an amiable fashion, ‘I like to try before I buy. I understand, however, that thou art compelled by thy faith to refrain from such indulgences?’

‘Not at all,’ the Prince grinned, searching his person for the key to her restraints. ‘For God in his wisdom created Confession.’

Cara giggled at this, faking amusement when in reality she was hysterical. Conan would not be an easy man to overpower. As he unlocked her bonds, Cara ran through in her mind all the vital points of the body that could kill or cause loss of consciousness — to merely paralyse her opponent would not suffice in this instance. The adrenalin pumped through her being as her chains fell away. She reached out to touch the warrior’s face with both her hands, her fingers trailing over his jaw and down his neck towards the vital points located there.

Conan closed his eyes to fully experience her touch, and awaited the taste of her lips with growing anticipation.

This was her cue — having located the pressure points, Cara dug her fingers into his neck and paralysed the huge warrior. His eyes burst open and she saw the realisation of her betrayal in them. She shut her eyes to summon forth her courage and focus all her striking power to the first joint of the middle finger of her right fist. The smaller the striking surface of her blow, the greater the force of penetration would be. Drawing back her right arm, Cara smashed the chosen body part deep into Conan’s third eye. She had never before had to use this strike and was rather stunned when the huge warrior dropped like a stone. ‘Oh Goddess!’ Cara uttered aghast. Her mind was a blank as to her next move; she hadn’t really expected to be still living after her retaliation attempt. She thought to shackle the warrior, but as he still held the key clenched in his hand, Cara figured why waste the time or risk waking him up? She headed straight for the ladder and having scaled it, raised the hatch door only enough to peek above deck.

A light mist swept over the vessel but it was not yet dense enough to cover her escape to the side of the boat. She could still see the vague outline of land in the distance and noting its direction decided that she should take her chances regardless.

Fortunately most of the oarsmen were facing away from her, but as the boat was going nowhere, they were at leisure and more likely to glance her way. Still, the rest of the crew were all around the helm, at the stern of the boat.

Seize the moment. Cara roused the courage to make her sprint and flung the hatch door open, but she was suddenly yanked back into the cargo hold. Her head rebounded down the rungs of the ladder as she came crashing to the timber floor, and a warm fluid began to flow from her mouth and down her cheeks.

Conan came to stand over the top of her and crouching down, he grabbed hold of her face to direct her bleary eyes his way. ‘Thou shalt pay for that, my Lady.’ He grabbed hold of a clump of her hair, dragged her to her feet and flung her at the iron bunk bed. ‘Thou shalt pay for it dear.’

As Cara collided with the timber hull and slid down onto the bed, she was coherent enough to realise that her death was imminent. Never again would she make love to her husband, hold her child or laugh with her friends. Goddess make it swift, Cara prayed as Conan’s shadow fell over her.

4

The Mists of Gwyn ap Nudd

From up above the scattered cloud at Craig-y-Ddinas, Maelgwn was granted a greater insight into the developing situation in Gwent Is Coed and Dyfed. Waves of mist billowed forth across the landscape from the heart of their designated landing site. Through the dense, white, fluffy blanket below, belts of blue energy radiated out from the mist’s centre in circular, wave-like pulses every few moments.

‘Dear Goddess!’ cried Maelgwn, and bethought the dragon beneath him: What hast happened here? I have never seen anything like this.

Etheric world leakage, replied Rufus casually. Judging from here, one would guess Gwyn ap Nudd hast gained control of territory well into Dyfed. I wonder what he wants there?

Maelgwn considered the dragon’s question a very good one. Take me down.

It will be thy funeral. Rufus complied with the King’s wish.

On the ground the mist was so dense that Maelgwn couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. The blue pulses of energy were not at all apparent from down here, but the atmosphere had an eerie stillness about it that was very unsettling.

‘I cannot see a damn thing!’ Maelgwn grumbled, fearful of putting a foot wrong and stepping off a cliff.

Rufus inhaled a deep breath and then blew, creating a gale force wind that cleared the mist for some distance ahead.

It was hard to believe the scene the mist concealed. Hundreds of men lay mutilated around the construction site, all impaled on their own tools and materials.

‘Goddess forbid,’ Maelgwn uttered. Even the bloodiest battlefield he could recall did not compare to this slaughter. ‘Who hast done this?’

Rufus eyed the carnage, refraining from licking his lips. Looks like the handiwork of the Tylwyth Teg.

‘The folk?’ Maelgwn looked at the dragon in disbelief. ‘Nay, they do not maim like this.’

True, Rufus conceded, but they can drive a man to such distraction that he would mutilate himself in this manner. The Tylwyth Teg en masse would be capable of this and much more.

Maelgwn was momentarily stunned by the threat this posed to his kin. As he watched the misty veil descend once more to cover the holocaust around him, the King sensed a movement behind him and drew his sword. ‘Who goes there?’

Rufus exhaled in the direction that concerned Maelgwn, and the mists parted to disclose a lone figure. It was Selwyn.

Maelgwn strode towards the Druid, who was very obviously exhausted. ‘Selwyn. Praise be. Thou art alive!’

‘Put the sword away,’ Selwyn beseeched him, ‘and do not draw it again in this mist. It will kill thee.’

Maelgwn committed his sword to its scabbard at once. Was that why Selwyn was the only man living on the landscape, for as a Druid he carried no tools or weapons that could inflict mortal injury? Maelgwn was distracted from his thought as he noted the tears that were streaming down Selwyn’s face.

‘Hurry.’ Selwyn began to hobble back in the direction he had come.

‘Stop.’ Maelgwn caught the Druid up and pulled him to a standstill. ‘Tell me thy woes first.’

The Druid shook his head, his emotions bursting forth so that he could hardly speak. ‘How can I tell thee Gwyn ap Nudd hast stolen thy wife, and it wast on my account that he did so.’

It took a moment for the statement to really sink in, but when it had Maelgwn grabbed Selwyn up by his robes. ‘Gwyn ap Nudd hast Tory? Where?’

Selwyn pointed back into the mist and realised he couldn’t hope to retrace his steps back to her. ‘I know not.’ He bowed his head in defeat.

‘Try harder.’ Maelgwn turned Selwyn around and pushed him on ahead to lead the way.

The mist was closing in on them again, and it appeared to gobble Selwyn up as he trudged on ahead.

‘Hold up,’ Maelgwn called. ‘I have lost thee.’ He walked a little further but the Druid did not reappear nor answer. ‘Selwyn? Selwyn!’

To describe the way Brockwell felt as vexed was an understatement. He’d been leading his troops through the thick mist for most of the day. His son’s welfare weighed heavy on his mind, but he tried not to let it affect his attitude towards the mission at hand. The sun had set some time ago; thus Brockwell had ordered torches lit and kept the party moving. Many of these soldiers had not had a decent sleep since leaving Powys before sun-up the previous day, and the King knew he would not be able to push them for much longer. He had several scouts that were scouring the trails ahead of the main party, searching for familiar landmarks. It was slow going, which only added to his frustration — they would not make Dynevor this night, that much was certain.

‘Majesty.’ Sir Lamorak, Brockwell’s second-in-command on this mission, rode up alongside him as they entered a large clearing in the forest. ‘The men —’

‘No need to say it.’ Brockwell knew he should really have camped outside of the town at Carmarthen when they’d passed it at sundown. ‘Make camp.’

Lamorak smiled, gratified. He turned his horse around and rode back along the ranks to instruct the men to fall out and make camp.

Brockwell dismounted so that his horse could be attended to, but having no desire for sleep, he had someone chase up Lamorak for him.

‘Majesty.’ The knight reported to him as requested.

‘I have decided to go on ahead to assess our situation. Find me a scout who feels up to the challenge and a couple of fresh horses.’

Lamorak bowed to confirm the command and went about Brockwell’s bidding.

It was a young scout from Dyfed who came forward to accompany the King; he appeared not that much older than Bryce. ‘My name be Trwst, Majesty,’ he bowed. ‘I shall see thee through the night and then some,’ he boasted.

‘And thou doth know this area well?’ Brockwell had to wonder if the lad was seriously up to the task.

‘I could find Dynevor with my eyes closed.’ The lad grinned, confident. ‘We have only to follow the Tywi river.’

‘Then let us depart.’ Brockwell mounted his horse and was surprised when the lad grabbed a torch and ran off on foot. ‘Trwst, thy horse?’

‘I need no transport,’ the lad yelled back. ‘In mist I am faster on foot. Trust me, Majesty. I shall guide thee right.’

Brockwell looked to Lamorak, sceptical.

‘They say young Trwst be part hound, Majesty.’ Lamorak vouched for his choice.

‘I shall see thee at noon tomorrow then.’ Brockwell rode off in pursuit of the guiding light of his young scout.

Vortipor was experiencing the same problems finding his way through the heavy white veil that shrouded his path to Cara. ‘Lost in my own kingdom,’ he growled, driven to distraction by the slow pace they were forced to keep. ‘Conan shall be halfway to Brittany by this.’

‘This mist will be hindering the movements of all within its grasp, Lord Protector,’ his scout assured. ‘There be not one breath of wind —’

At that moment, all round them, the mist began to contort into forms, whereby Vortipor brought the party to a halt.

At first the men thought the occurrence was the wind playing tricks in the torchlight, but then the formations in the mist took on a glow all of their own, and a multitude of ghostly warriors manifested to challenge the men in battle.

Guard thyself for true.

The words thundered through every man’s mind.

‘What in the Underworld be this?’ Vortipor reached for his sword to find it mysteriously absent. Was it possible that in his hurry to pursue his wife’s abductors he had left his weapon behind? Vortipor felt for the sword again, it was not on his person.

The phantom warriors took to the air, wildly wielding their weaponry. Vortipor’s men drew their swords in response, and the airborne force began to dive.

Vortipor braced himself for the onslaught, but the spectral army passed over him as if oblivious to his presence. With mounting horror the Protector watched as the unearthly force descended on his men. As the fierce apparitions raced around and through the soldiers, the men became flustered and began butchering each other in their attempts to destroy the illusive menace that taunted them. Vortipor screamed orders for his men to cease their retaliation, but it was already too late — the last of his men dropped from his horse, dead.

The ghostly warriors laughed triumphantly. As they raced off past Vortipor their hard warlike forms transformed into beautiful winged women, who blew him kisses as they passed and vanished back into the mists.

Vortipor staggered off his horse, shocked to the core by what he’d witnessed. He retrieved a torch from the dismembered hand of its bearer to view the slaughter of man and beast. He realised why he’d been spared; his missing weapon had saved his life. ‘Am I to lose every soldier in my kingdom thus?’ he cried into the eerie silence of the dark, misty landscape. ‘Have I been cursed?’

Conan carries a sword. Vortipor entertained the thought, which eased his feeling of dread, momentarily. ‘So does Prince Bryce.’

This realisation found Vortipor back on his horse.

The Goddess has spared me once this night … I place my trust in her.

The warrior dug his heels into his trusty steed and crouching low to the horse’s body, blindly took off into the night.

When Bryce awoke to the tortured wails of a woman, he threw off the animal skin that concealed him in the end of the small rowboat. He’d managed to hide himself here when Cara’s abductors had been driving off their horses. They’d taken the rowboat down the Du river to the bay at Aberdaugleddau to rendezvous with a larger seagoing boat that was anchored there. The Prince had thought it best to wait until the cover of night before attempting to board the vessel and execute a rescue.

‘The damn swaying of this boat must have put me to sleep.’

Again the agonised cries of the woman rang out through the dark misty night.

‘Lady Cara!’ gasped Bryce, vaguely recognising the voice behind the contorted screams.

Without hesitation Bryce lowered himself into the water, keeping hold of the rope that tied the small rowboat to the larger vessel. He followed the slack of the towline to the stern of the large boat and then shimmied up the rope towards the deck. As the lad got a foothold, the tip of his scabbard caught on his knee and as it was dragged upside down his sword slipped out and fell with a splash down into the water below. ‘Idiot,’ Bryce cursed, crouching low on the outer rail of the boat in case anyone had heard his bungle.

The deck of the boat lit up suddenly, illuminated by a light far brighter than anything Bryce had ever known to shine at night.

Guard thyself for true.

The bethought challenge sent every man on the deck scampering for a weapon.

Bryce looked to the sky to see a celestial army taunting the sailors with war cries as they prepared to descend on the boat and engage in battle. All eyes were upturned to the pending menace above, so Bryce seized the opportunity to steal onto the deck. As the ghostly war band charged the rowdy sailors, Bryce took cover behind a couple of large barrels.

The manner in which the phantom warriors baited their foe was cruel and effective. By possessing the bodies of some of the crew, they fooled the men into warring with each other. In the confusion, who could tell who was possessed and who wasn’t?

Cara’s tortured wails told Bryce she was close at hand; beneath him, most likely. The light the celestial army was emitting lit up the deck and trapdoor that led to the cargo hold. Head down and on all fours, Bryce ventured through the mayhem. Upon making it to the hatch the Prince reached for the rope handle, whereby he found one of the ghostly warriors in his face.

Allow me.

The ugly war-ravaged warrior transfigured into the most beautiful woman Bryce had ever seen. She smiled at him, and lifted the hatch to allow him entry.

The Prince was stunned only for a moment, and would have mulled over why he had been looked upon so favourably if the Lady Cara’s safety had not had his mind fully preoccupied. He crept down into the dark, damp cargo hold and squatted behind a large chest to close his eyes a moment and regain his vision.

Cara’s screams had subsided into low, painful, rhythmic groans. Bryce’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach when he realised she was being raped.

Conan heard a board creak behind him, and didn’t bother looking up from his amusement to investigate. ‘I told thee I wast not to be disturbed.’

‘Dead men do not give orders.’

Conan raised his head to encounter Bryce’s boot straight between the eyes.

As Bryce dragged the much larger warrior off the battered and bruised Lady Cara, his senses were numbed by the hatred-induced adrenalin pumping through his veins. He vented his blind fury on Conan, and the outcome was beyond the lad’s control. For Bryce’s body was a finely-tuned weapon and the power it harnessed was astounding upon finally being unleashed. Bryce’s onslaught ceased when Conan’s skull caved in under his foot.

Blood-splattered and exhausted, Bryce stepped away from his slaughter, mortified by his own capacity to destroy. He turned back to Cara, who had struggled up to a seated position.

‘Dear Bryce,’ she burst into tears and waved her saviour closer.

The lad ran to Cara’s embrace, seeking the woman’s forgiveness for arriving too late to save her from the savage violation. He also sought a mother’s absolution for the grievous murder he’d just committed.

‘The Goddess knows thee had just cause,’ she told him as they held each other, seeking solace in each other’s strength. ‘I am only alive because of thy bravery.’

As Bryce’s horror subsided, the little boy inside him dissolved into a man. Due to his own recent sexual encounter, he was a little more emotionally equipped to cope with the lamentable situation. His thoughts turned to Cara’s welfare. ‘Can thee move?’

Cara nodded, pulling together the tattered remnants of her clothes.

Bryce looked about and spied a cape amidst pieces of Conan’s discarded clothing.

Cara shuddered as he went to place it around her. ‘I would walk to Castle Dwyran naked before I would wear anything of his.’

Bryce pulled off his own shirt. ‘It got a bit wet.’ He wrung it dry, shook it out and assisted Cara to put it on.

The concern and heartbreak on the young man’s face and the gentle way in which he aided her in dressing renewed Cara’s faith in humanity. ‘I bless the day the Goddess brought thee back to thy kin, Bryce, for thou art a truly extraordinary soul.’

Bryce’s throat ached from holding back the tears of admiration he felt for this woman, and the strain of his restraint caused his voice to waver as he spoke. ‘Thou art the extraordinary soul, Lady.’ As he felt the tears escaping his eyes, he placed an arm around Cara to help her to the ladder.

When Cara saw the slaughter by the dim torchlight on the deck above, she was awe-struck. ‘Bryce?’ She looked to the young Prince, unable to believe him capable of such butchery.

‘Nay, Lady.’ He flashed a grin at her misunderstanding. ‘This wast not my doing. An otherworldly army were the instigators … they cleared me a path straight to thee.’

Cara was enchanted by his words for she had thought, only moments ago, that the Goddess had abandoned her. Visions of Conan’s abuse brought her back to earth, however. Even if the Goddess had seen to her rescue, why did she not save her before the violation of her body, mind and spirit had taken place? Conan had copulated with her, more than once, and Cara shuddered at the thought that she may have conceived a child of his seed. Spare me this, great mother, and my faith in thee shall be renewed.

Apart from Brockwell’s concern for his boy, every other aspect of the remainder of the journey to Dynevor was enjoyable.

Trwst had set such an amazing pace on foot through the dark misty landscape that Brockwell had offered the lad a position as his personal scout. The lad had graciously declined the royal appointment on the grounds that his home was in Dyfed and that he aspired to be Vortipor’s head scout one day.

‘Then, when this crisis hast past, I shall make sure that thy aspirations be closer at hand, Trwst.’ Brockwell dismounted. Having nearly reached their destination, he wanted to stretch his legs.

‘I would be most indebted to you, Highness.’ Trwst smiled to show that he would accept the latter offer.

‘Hold up.’ Brockwell thought he spied something amidst the shadows of the forest. He swapped the reins of his horse for the torch his scout carried, and moved to take a closer took.

‘What hast thou found, Majesty,’ Trwst inquired, as he moved to follow.

‘Stay where thou art,’ Brockwell yelled back to the lad, for he could barely take a step without treading on a corpse or severed body part. The King could only assume this was the remains of Conan’s force, although he was hard-pressed to imagine what had happened to them.

Guard thyself for true.

The challenge resounded in Brockwell’s mind as a lone figure began to take form in the mist before him. The apparition was clearly hostile and bore all manner of frightening weapons.

In ten years as King and a Master of the Goddess, Brockwell had learnt a thing or two about otherworldly occurrences, and this certainly had all the telltale signs of one. An encounter with a griffin had taught him the first two rules when dealing with the Otherworld were to think only the purest of thoughts and do not draw a weapon.

‘Greetings friend.’ Brockwell stuck the long torch stick into the ground and unfastened his sword and scabbard.

When Trwst saw the bright illumination filtering through the mists and trees in the direction the King had gone, his curiosity got the better of him. From the safety of some bushes the lad beheld the landscape of corpses over which the glimmering, fierce warlord resided. The diminutive form of King Brockwell stood before the apparition in defiance, and Trwst could barely believe his eyes when the King discarded his weapons.

Dost thou have a death wish? The celestial warrior stared down upon the tiny King.

‘I want to live,’ Brockwell informed. ‘And I do so to serve the Goddess in all things.’

A claim worthy of debate. The ghostly challenger transformed into a ravishingly beautiful woman. Perhaps I could interest thee in a different form of conquest? As the celestial beauty floated down to stand before Brockwell her form shrank and manifested into a naked human female.

Brockwell was disturbed by this development, for as tempting as the offer was, he knew he must not accept it. ‘Thou art perfect in every way.’ Brockwell lingered on that thought, unable to prevent himself admiring the beauty of the body being offered him. ‘But my Katren be fairer still.’ He averted his eyes. ‘She would not hesitate to skin me alive for such a transgression either.’ He winced as he imagined the reprimand. ‘Thus … I am afraid I must decline.’

What if …? The woman touched Brockwell’s jaw and directed his attention back to herself as she transformed into the image of Tory Alexander.

‘Now thou art being nasty.’ Brockwell stepped away, seriously panicked about his capacity to retain control. ‘I know thou art not her.’

But look at me, Calin? She brushed the long, fair hair back to expose her fully naked form. Dost thou not want this body? She ran her hands down over her breasts and beyond, inviting him to reach out and touch her.

Brockwell was spellbound a moment as fantasies from his bachelorhood came back to haunt him.

When their war band had first encountered the great warrioress from the future, Calin had wanted nothing more than to see her dead. For, having been unfamiliar with the ways of the Otherworld at the time, such phenomenon had been his one and only fear. After being vanquished by Tory in hand-to-hand combat, a few days in her company found him more attracted to her than any woman who had gone before her. But then another woman had challenged him in single combat and won, this time with the hierarchy of four kingdoms looking on; his beloved Katren stole his heart that day and had held it from that day to this.

‘Nay,’ he withdrew from the vision. ‘Thou art a boyish fixation from my past and nothing more!’ he told the apparition firmly, whereby it vanished.

A mule was not the most comfortable or speedy transport for riding long distances, but in this mist Samson wouldn’t have made his destination any sooner by horse. The sunrise would be a welcome sight, the Bishop considered, for the woods in this area were rather creepy to travel through in these conditions. It was easy to see why the locals avoided these parts as a haunt of the Tylwyth Teg. The atmosphere of the place was really quite unsettling.

An area of mist out in front of Samson became illuminated, and he thought the sun must have started to rise, but a brief glance around him told the Bishop this was not the case.

Guard thyself for true.

Samson held both hands to his ears — the command had come from an internal source. He looked to the ever-growing spectral light in his path to perceive it take on a form.

‘My God,’ the Bishop concluded, falling off his mule and to his knees. ‘A visitation.’

The presence took the form of what Samson considered Jesus Christ would look like, and its hands were held out palms up to expose the wounds of the crucifixion. My son, the vision bethought the Bishop, thou art sorely mistaken.

‘In what way, my Lord?’ Samson wanted to know.

By allowing the contrived beliefs of mortal men to override thine own better judgment.

The Bishop was most confused by this. When had he allowed this to happen?

Art thou so arrogant as to assume that the beliefs of all the folk of thy native homeland be a falsehood, a connivance, and only thou dost have any knowledge of the divine and his dominions. Just because the religion thou hast chosen be more disciplined and organised, do not take this as verification of your presumption. It be only one of many narrow interpretations of the infinite power that mortal men have yet to comprehend … although some ancient cultures have come close. The true essence of divinity can only be discovered by the study of all beliefs, for the answers to the mysteries of the ages art to be found in every single factor of creation … it will take the combined efforts of every single incarnation of every being who has, does and will walk the earth to fathom it.

Samson rose from his knees. The wonderment had left his face and been replaced with a frown of caution. ‘Thou art the devil, sent to test my faith.’

Again, the contrived beliefs of mortal men override thy better judgment.

‘Show thyself for who thou art,’ Samson demanded.

It shall be a great disappointment to thee. The ghostly figure took on the physical presence of Gwyn ap Nudd.

‘Another deceit,’ accused Samson, having his own ideas on what a devil should look like. The being before him looked more like an angel minus the wings than a hideous demon.

True, my realms art of chaos, but that does not make the inhabitants evil. For we dwell in the great scheme of things a level closer to the divine than ye of the physical world.

‘Art thou implying that thou art an angel?’ scoffed Samson.

The Lord of the Night shook his head, amused. Here thou art, accusing Maelgwn Gwynedd of weaving falsehoods to suit his own ends, when in reality he hast a far greater idea of the universal picture than thou dost. But then, one only despises another for that which one despises about one’s self. Could it be perhaps that deep down thou dost envy the Dragon’s open mind and capacity to comprehend?

‘Nay!’ Samson blocked his ears in a fruitless attempt to block out the demon’s tutorial. Why was he listening at all? Why were the words ringing true for him and playing on the strings of his heart? This test of temptation was truly confusing.

Thou art being tested, Samson, but not how thy head would have thee believe. Ask thyself what thy heart holds to be true and just. Hast this been an eye opening experience … or a mind closing one? Gwen ap Nudd began to fade and the sun began to rise. The rest of thy life can be a wonder or a farce, Samson, the choice be thine.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the mist and onto his body, Samson stood dumbfounded. The Bishop found himself wondering why, if the apparition had been the devil, had he left him feeling so inspired and at peace?

As the night shadows faded and the morn brought some light to see by, Vortipor realised he had reached the bay at Aberdaugleddau. Even here, there was not a breath of wind and the heavy mist shrouded the waterway from his sight.

Hungry, tired and tormented Vortipor climbed from his horse to walk along the water’s edge. What was he to do now? To continue this pursuit would surely be a foolhardy indulgence with his kingdom in peril.

‘Nay, I must not believe that.’ He adjusted his attitude. ‘I have come this far in blind faith.’ The Goddess will provide. Vortipor began to look around for a means by which to continue his search when up ahead he spied a small rowboat that had been dragged up onto the bank.

‘Not exactly what I had in mind, but beggars cannot be choosers.’ The Protector tied his horse to a tree to graze, and made a move to drag the boat into the water. As he grabbed hold of the stern, he noticed a couple of bodies curled up together within. Tears filled his eyes when he realised it was Bryce and Cara.

‘Dear Goddess.’ He came around the boat to crouch down beside his sleeping wife. Her angelic face was so badly beaten that he began to openly weep. ‘What hast happened to thee?’ he muttered softly.

Bryce’s eyelids parted and upon spying Vortipor the Prince eased himself out from beside the Protector’s wife, holding a finger to his lips so as not to wake the ailing Lady. The lad climbed silently from the boat with the aid of the older man, and walked a little way with Vortipor to speak with him of the night’s ordeal.

The young Prince had never imagined he could ever see the great Vortipor so broken and consumed by grief as he was upon receiving the news Bryce bore.

‘Thou dost have my deepest gratitude until the day I die, Bryce. I shall not forget what thou hast withstood this night for the sake of my kin.’

Bryce backed up at this point, rejecting his gratitude. ‘I should have gotten to her sooner … I could have!’ he confessed, his face awash with the tears of his remorse. ‘The damn rocking of the boat put me to sleep —’

Vortipor grabbed hold of the Prince as the lad was going into shock. ‘If anyone be to blame, I am. I should have been with Cara and Bridgit, instead of —’

‘I am to blame.’ Cara spoke up. ‘Had I not fancied myself as infallible, I would have had a guard with me.’

‘Cara.’ Vortipor ran to support his wife’s trembling form and wrapped her up with him in his cape.

Bryce backed away quietly. His quest was over, but he felt none the better for his deeds. In fact he felt worse. He was no longer remorseful about the life he’d taken; what disturbed him was the lingering mind torture Lady Cara would have to endure for the rest of her days.

‘Violent acts against women and children will be abolished in this land,’ Bryce vowed to the Goddess there and then. ‘If I have to see to it personally.’

He considered that perhaps the reason the otherworldly spirits had seen him through the night’s peril was so that he would reach this resolve.

‘Aye.’ He decided it was. ‘Let every man think twice before contemplating such a woeful act for fear he shall fall victim to my sword,’ Bryce stated aloud with much conviction, reaching for his weapon to hold it high and seal his pledge, but it was rather anti-climactic when he recalled that it was missing in action. ‘Of course, I shall have to get a new sword first,’ Bryce explained to the Goddess behind the sunrise, only just noticing that he could now see it. The otherworldly mist was retreating.

A bright blue-white light flooded Bryce’s senses, blinding him momentarily without the slightest pain to his eyes. He felt liberated of all his woes as he bathed in the lustre of the phenomenon, not questioning its timeless essence but enjoying it to the full.

5

When All Is Said and Done

Let the events of this night be a lingering lesson to thee all. For it is only because the great Mother hast more compassion than I, that ye art awarded a second chance to appease her and her folk.

As Maelgwn and Tory emerged from their dreamlike state, they were standing before the great rise at Craig-y-Ddinas, listening to the lecturing of Gwyn ap Nudd who stood atop the rise with Selwyn at his side.

Brockwell awoke to the same tutorial. To one side of him stood Tory and Maelgwn, to the other side, Bryce. The King wanted to grab up his missing son and holler aloud his relief, but as the Night Hunter’s words demanded his attention, Brockwell simply placed an arm over Bryce’s shoulder and silently praised the Goddess for his son’s safe return.

Likewise, Vortipor became conscious of a change of location and then of Cara beside him. She stood by her own grace, her bruised face upturned to the otherworldly being addressing them. She was far braver than he, the Protector considered quietly, taking hold of her hand.

King Catulus of Dumnonia mysteriously found himself present at the otherworldly leader’s assembly at Craig-y-Ddinas, as did the ruler of Dalriada, Fergus MacErc. They looked to each other in wonderment a moment, but dared not speak and offend their huge and rather ominous-looking host.

The lives lost in the mists this night, by the grace of the elements shall be restored. This time. To ensure that the unity of the Council of the Goddess be maintained in future, I order thee of the council to honour the word of Maelgwn Gwynedd, whom I appoint High King of Briton for the remainder of his days.

No one was more astounded by Gwyn ap Nudd’s announcement than Maelgwn. What had he done to impress the Lord so much as to warrant such a high appointment of trust? He couldn’t recall ever meeting Gwyn ap Nudd, yet somehow he knew this was the said God addressing him and that they had met before this time.

When my appointed hast served his time, the Council shall appoint another who shall answer to me directly and also protect the best interests of the Tylwyth Teg. If such an appointed one be not to our liking I shall make ye aware of it, so choose thy High King wisely. Most of the events of this night will be a blur, for ye will maintain only that knowledge required to carry out the resolve we have reached this day. Except for thee, druid … Gwyn ap Nudd turned his attention to Selwyn. Thy memory remains intact, for it be thy penance to remember.

Selwyn bowed his head sorrowfully, accepting the Lord’s punishment.

The otherworldly warrior then rose up into the sky to supervise the retreat of his forces.

Upon finally reaching his destination, Samson beheld the bloody massacre at Craig-y-Ddinas. The rulers of five kingdoms, and a few of their kin, were the only people still alive at the site. They stood observing the same being who had addressed him just before sunrise.

The Lord of the Night began spinning as he rose, whereby he transformed into a glowing tornado of energy. This mass suddenly exploded and thousands of tiny lights were shot out in all directions. The tiny balls of energy raced out over the site and beyond, each in search of a corpse to alight upon. As a single tiny light made contact with a victim, the life of that body was restored.

‘Dear God!’ Samson was amazed beyond reason as severed limbs found their owners and healed without a trace. Weapons of impalement removed themselves from their victims and the dead and rotting construction workers arose to life.

One of the glistening elemental orbs alighted on Cara’s forehead and she closed her eyes as a wave of physical relief washed over her and all her injuries faded away.

Vortipor put an arm about her waist as she seemed to become a little light-headed. ‘How dost thou fare?’

Cara opened her eyes and smiled. ‘Wonderful.’ She looked to her husband as she scanned her memory for the emotional hurt she had sustained. ‘I know what I have been subject to this night, and yet the vivid recollection of the event completely escapes me.’ Cara was grateful for that. But had Conan’s seed been removed from her body during the healing process? Would a conception be considered a battle wound in her case?

Maelgwn surprised Tory with a long and meaningful hug, and she was happy to indulge his whim. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ She fished for information.

‘I have no idea,’ Maelgwn told her without letting up from the embrace. ‘I just have this need to hold thee.’

All Tory remembered was a dress of flowers and seeing Selwyn, but nothing beyond that. She was now dressed in the riding clothes she’d worn to Llyn Cerrig Bach.

‘So thou dost not remember last night either?’ Tory quizzed more directly.

‘Not a damn thing,’ Maelgwn confessed, pulling back to look at her.

‘Selwyn!’ both Tory and Maelgwn resolved at once.

By the time the High King and his Queen had scaled the steep rise to the plateau of ‘the Rock of Fortress’, there was no trace of the Druid.

‘Okay …’ Tory began to try and rationalise their situation. ‘Gwyn ap Nudd hast been appeased; we have no clue how, but …?’ She shrugged off that mystery for the moment. ‘Then what hast become of Conan?’

‘Excuse I, Highnesses.’ Brockwell stressed the formality of Maelgwn’s new appointment, as he beckoned them back down the steep incline. ‘Bryce hast had an interesting thought.’

As Tory and Maelgwn joined their allies down in the vale, Samson had made his way to the gathering of Kings also.

‘What devilish transaction hast transpired here today?’ The Bishop demanded an answer. ‘What have ye done with Prince Conan?’

Brockwell looked to the Bishop with contempt. ‘Whatever hast become of thy Prince this night would be of thy doing! He was a fine lad, by all accounts, before the likes of thee got hold of him.’

‘Brockwell!’ Maelgwn urged him to back away from the Lord Bishop. ‘There art good seeds and bad seeds of every faith, and although Conan was the latter, Samson hast done no ill. He loves our homeland as much as we.’

‘Then why dost he seek to divide us by crushing our heritage and beliefs with the fearful and naive doctrines of a foreign nation?’ Brockwell directed the question at Samson.

‘Each to his own,’ Maelgwn replied. ‘It be only human speculation, and who can say if any doctrine be closer to the truth than another? A wise man can only respect the beliefs of others, and draw from it that which rings true for himself.’

Samson and Brockwell both appeared profoundly stunned by the High King’s words.

‘Prince Bryce.’ Maelgwn looked to the lad, who was waiting patiently to speak his mind.

The lad bowed to his new High King and glanced around at those assembled. He felt a little awkward addressing all the great leaders at once, for he had dreamt of doing so often. ‘It occurred to me that, if all the carnage of this night hast been resurrected by the elements, then although I did slay Conan —’

‘Thee did slay Conan?’ Samson clarified.

As Cara caught on to Bryce’s meaning her jaw clenched. ‘Conan hast been resurrected!’

‘Resurrected!’ Samson echoed, horrified by their claims.

‘Aye. Conan lives, sure enough.’

The entire assembly turned to find Taliesin making his way down the steep incline.

‘As usual, my High Merlin arrives now that the crisis hast passed,’ Maelgwn jeered.

Could this be the mighty Taliesin? Samson backed up a little, having never truly believed that the sorcerer existed; the druid looked as old as time itself.

‘I have been trapped in an obelisk for thy information,’ Taliesin stated in a huff, whereby the Kings and their kin couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Conan be fast on his way to Armorica if anyone be of the mind to bring him to justice.’

The Merlin’s comment certainly served to sober the group abruptly.

‘What art the charges against my Prince?’ Samson confronted the Merlin, thinking him the mastermind behind Conan’s exile.

‘Abduction, rape, battery.’ Cara swung the Bishop around to enlighten him.

‘Of whom?’ Samson inquired further, for she looked in perfect health.

Cara began to shake, not with fear or remorse, but anger. ‘I wast healed along with these other confused folk you see around us —’

‘Add theft to Conan’s offences,’ Maelgwn cut in to prevent Cara from having to say more. ‘Thy Prince hast set sail with most of his father’s treasury, that I can prove.’

‘To protect it from being pillaged, I shall warrant.’ The Bishop jumped to the Prince’s defence.

‘He claimed differently.’ Cara scoffed at his naivety.

‘Conan knew that ye of the Goddess’ alliance would reject him and run him off.’ Samson voiced his objection.

‘My dear Samson.’ Maelgwn pinched the top of his nose, as he considered how to make the Bishop see reason. ‘In all the years we have ruled, has the Goddess’ council ever attempted to drive thee out of Briton because of thy faith?’

‘Nay,’ Samson answered honestly, ‘but I do not rule a kingdom.’

‘Forget the goddamned priest,’ Vortipor snarled. ‘How art we to catch Conan? From where we stand now, he hast gained a day’s head start on us. Even if we ride hard to Dynevor and take the river from there —’

Sounds like an awful waste of time. The dragon stuck his huge head over the rise above. Only Maelgwn and Taliesin heard the dragon’s words. Everyone else assembled was made aware of his presence by the sound of his roar.

The construction workers all started fleeing for their recently-restored lives.

‘Hell’s bells —’ Samson was set to fly into a fit, but Maelgwn gripped his shoulder to reassure him.

‘Fear not, he only eats criminals.’

The King’s playful air was so casual and familiar that Samson relaxed. Was the King attempting humour? He was not given a chance to ask, as Maelgwn had turned back to address the huge beast.

‘I felt sure thee would have fled back to thy etheric home long before this, Rufus.’

One decided to stick around so one could not be accused of abandoning thee, thus forfeiting my reward.

‘Thou hast earned thy reward twice over, my friend,’ Maelgwn assured, ‘but if thee would be so kind as to aid us now, I shall be forever in thy debt.’

All eyes looked to the dragon, for although none could hear his words, the differing tone of his roar conveyed his thoughts fairly clearly.

A battle at sea would be a grand final quest, Rufus conceded with a grunt.

‘A truly legendary deed,’ Maelgwn encouraged, giving the thumbs up to let the others know that the dragon had agreed to take them.

‘So what art we waiting for?’ Brockwell was raring to go.

Maelgwn ignored Brockwell’s eagerness and questioned Bryce further. ‘How many men did Conan have with him?’

Bryce dwelt on the question a moment. It had been dark and with the confusion on the deck it was hard to discern how many the sailors had numbered. ‘Perhaps thirty, maybe more.’

‘We number but eight.’ Vortipor did not count the priest or the Merlin.

‘Three and a half to one odds seems a bit unfair … on them,’ Tory commented, spurring them all to riot.

‘I love this plan,’ Brockwell cried out.

‘Cara.’ Tory noted that she seemed not as enthusiastic about the hunt, and could well understand why. ‘Thou art not obliged to come.’

‘I have anger to vent,’ the Lady advised, solemnly, ‘and that will be best expended on a just cause.’

‘Settled.’ Brockwell urged everyone to action. ‘Can we go?’

The warriors involved all scaled the rise to where Rufus awaited.

Only as Samson watched the dragon depart overhead did it come to his attention that he’d been left in Taliesin’s company.

‘So.’ Taliesin turned to the young Bishop. ‘I have a prophecy for thee.’

The Bishop looked to the druid, wary of what was forthcoming.

‘Thou dost not have to believe it,’ Taliesin pointed out. ‘But should the event come to pass, then thee shall know what to expect. Fair enough?’

The worry did not leave Samson’s face, but he nodded to give the High Merlin leave to voice his mind.

When Conan awoke it took him quite some time to regain his bearings. He recalled vanquishing a woman. ‘Cara!’ He sprang to his feet to look for her.

Dead men do not give orders.

Now he remembered — Conan hadn’t seen his assailant’s face, but his voice was committed to memory. He ran his hands over his own face and head in search of a sore spot, but he did not find one. As the treasure chests all still appeared in order, Conan moved above deck to exact a few explanations.

‘What the devil happened here!’ he roared upon finding his men all laying about as if they were half dead.

‘What the devil indeed,’ said the Captain, spooked. ‘We were attacked, Majesty, last night.’

‘Attacked by whom?’ Conan demanded more information, and the Captain seemed most reluctant to give it.

‘They were spirits, Majesty.’

‘Spirits!’ Conan was so enraged he punched the man. ‘That wast no spirit that attacked me.’

‘Then where art thy wounds?’ the Captain was quick to retort.

On that point Conan was stumped, which only made him all the more furious.

‘Dragon ahoy!’ cried the watchman in the hawk’s nest above.

Conan reached boiling point, believing his men were playing him for the fool. ‘One more report of mythological creatures and I shall personally run through the man who makes it!’

‘Then I would not look up, Majesty.’ The Captain watched the huge beast come to hover over their ship. ‘The Dragon himself hast come for thee,’ the Captain informed Conan with a grin — he’d not warmed to the Prince at all. ‘Defend thyself for true!’ The Captain yelled the warning to his crew as he made a dash for the side of the ship and jumped overboard.

Under the circumstances, the oarsmen and crew decided it best to follow their Captain into the water and make a swim for shore. By the time Maelgwn’s party slid down their ropes to land on the deck, Conan stood alone.

‘That was a bit anticlimactic,’ grumbled Brockwell. ‘I drew my sword for nothing! How about thee, Conan? Dost thou fancy a fight?’ he mocked the lone warrior, but Conan was not stupid enough to try to resist them.

‘Down Brockwell.’ Maelgwn approached Conan to take him into custody. ‘I feel sure he does not wish to die twice in one day.’

The Dragon’s comment was meant to taunt Conan, and it did. ‘I am not afraid of thee, Dragon.’

‘Thou hast no need to fear me,’ Maelgwn assured him light-heartedly, as he relieved Conan of his weapon. ‘It be the good Lord and Lady of Dyfed thou hast to fear.’ He raised both brows and stepped aside as it was up to Cara and Vortipor to decree Conan’s fate.

When Conan sighted Cara he was shocked to discover that she had been completely healed.

‘Surprise!’ she taunted.

Everyday horror and torment Conan could deal with, but this was supernatural and it defied all explanation, save one. ‘Thou art demons.’

‘Believe it!’ Cara hissed, as she unexpectedly kneed the Prince in the genitals. Every man present winced as Conan fell to the ground. ‘Be thankful to the Goddess that I leave thee in one piece.’ She glared down at him savouring the sight of Conan in agony. ‘Do with him what thee will.’ Cara left her husband to decide what would become of the prisoner.

Vortipor was so furious that a fate befitting this piece of vermin escaped him at present, but he would devise something suitably agonising once given a calm mind to reflect on it. ‘Let us get him back to Dyfed,’ he decreed.

‘I challenge thee to produce proof that I have committed a crime,’ Conan spluttered.

At which time, Fergus MacErc emerged from the cargo hold. ‘It looks as if the entire wealth of Gwent be down here,’ he advised Maelgwn, who in turn looked back to Conan.

‘I demand a proper trial.’

Bryce came to stand before the fallen warrior. ‘Dead men do not give orders.’

‘It wast thee!’ Conan struggled upright, recognising his assailant’s voice and he was aghast to behold a boy. ‘Thou art the one who knocked me out.’ He began to chuckle.

‘I shattered thy skull with my foot,’ Bryce informed Conan, ‘and I would do it again.’

But Conan only laughed harder.

‘I think he might be losing his grip on reality,’ Maelgwn commented sideways to Vortipor.

‘He will have, by the time I get finished with him,’ the Protector hissed.

Mission accomplished, Tory came forward to take her leave of Maelgwn. ‘There be nothing more I can do here,’ she told him, ‘so I think I should seek out Selwyn and see how he fares.’

‘Art thou planning to take the dragon?’ Maelgwn was amused by the notion.

‘Nay. Taliesin informs me that I have my own in-built transport, so I thought I might try it out.’ She set herself up for the challenge.

‘Ah, I see!’ Maelgwn stepped away to give her some room. ‘Well, will away then.’

‘Alright, here goes.’ She closed her eyes, and focusing on Selwyn, Tory willed herself to be with him.

The High King could barely believe his eyes when Tory began to fade from sight. He wanted to cry out his congratulations, but refrained from disturbing her concentration. Thou art a wonder, Tory Alexander, he thought, a proud tear forming in his eye.

The blue-white light of the ethers began to disperse, making visible the forest in which Tory now stood.

‘Wow, etheric-lag,’ she mumbled in jest, as the physical world re-manifested around her and she regained her equilibrium. ‘But what a way to fly!’ She wished Taliesin had informed her of this ability sooner.

Judging by the height and strength of the huge twisted oak trees surrounding her, this was a very old grove. The extended branches of the trees overhead created a canopy, which blocked out most of the sun and made for sparse vegetation on the forest floor.

Tory spotted the druid she sought close by, laying on his back in the centre of a ring of oak trees, staring up at the overhanging branches. As he seemed rather absorbed in meditation, Tory quietly approached and lay down on her back beside him.

‘Forgive me, Highness.’ Selwyn jumped to his feet and bowed his head low. ‘I did not know it wast thee.’

‘Thou art forgiven,’ Tory assured him, remaining seated.

‘I do not want to speak of it,’ he said. ‘Not now, or ever. Nor shall I write of it.’

This was not exactly what Tory had hoped to hear. ‘Whatever happened hast obviously greatly saddened thee, Selwyn. Would it not be better to release the experience and let it go —’

‘Nay!’ Selwyn began to fret. ‘I shall never let it go, never!’

‘Sorry, my mistake.’ Tory rose slowly, so as not to scare him off. ‘Can thee tell me what Maelgwn did to be chosen High King, at least?’

Selwyn’s eyes opened wide as he considered the question, looking anywhere but at Tory.

She was no psychologist, but Selwyn’s behaviour was bordering on madness. He was very obviously emotionally traumatised, but how was Tory to help him without any clue as to the cause?

At last, Selwyn shook his head. ‘Thy love for each other prevailed. That be all thee need know.’

‘And thee, Selwyn? What part did thee play?’ Tory coaxed, as he seemed to be having a sane moment.

‘The fool.’ he said without hesitation or emotion.

As neither of them knew what to say at this point, Selwyn retrieved his harp. He placed the strap of the skin case over one shoulder to sit across his body, and positioning the instrument so that it sat comfortably, he turned and walked beyond the circle of oaks.

‘Where art thou going?’ Tory felt sure he didn’t know.

‘Away.’

‘Why?’ Tory noted that he walked and did not vanish, so she presumed it was alright for her to follow. Selwyn stopped and turned back to her, whereby she halted also.

‘I want to be alone,’ he said, still avoiding eye contact with the High Queen.

A lump began to build in Tory’s throat. Selwyn had always confided in her. Why was he so distant? ‘Tell me honestly, Selwyn, have I done something to hurt thee?’

‘Nay!’ he was quick to respond. He even looked at her for a moment before lowering his sights once more. ‘Thou hast always been my saviour, and nothing hast changed. I am at fault. I failed.’

‘But where be the failure in saving the day?’ Tory beseeched him.

‘Here be the failure.’ Selwyn motioned to his heart. ‘For it was not I who saved the day.’

‘But —’

‘No more questions!’ he cried out, his emotions bursting forth. ‘Please Majesty, no more questions.’

His mumbled plea broke Tory’s heart; she was not handling this very well. ‘I swear by the Goddess I shall never ask about it again.’

Selwyn shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes, for he knew she meant what she said. ‘I endangered thee, and others dear to me. I am a threat, a liability! Please, Majesty, bid me go.’

Although Tory was shaking her head to disagree with everything he said, it was painfully obvious that she was not aiding his situation. Selwyn had appeared calm when she arrived and now he was completely distraught. ‘If it be thy wish to retreat from those who care about thee, I cannot stop thee. Just promise me one thing … let me know how thou art faring from time to time.’

Selwyn nodded as he turned and walked away. ‘But expend no energy on worry for me, Highness. That would be an undeserved waste of a precious resource.’ The Druid vanished into the forest.

This was the last time Tory saw Selwyn for many years, and in the ensuing ten years of their association they never again spoke of the night they spent in the fold of Gwyn ap Nudd.

The next time the leaders of the alliance were gathered together in one place was one month later at the festival of Lughnasa.

On the first night of the four day celebration, the Council of Kings had Prince Bryce rousted from his bed and brought down to the feast.

As the lad entered, the entire room was upstanding to cheer and applaud him. The Prince was driven forth by numerous pats on the back towards the main table where the leaders of the alliance awaited him. Bryce was surprised to discover all twelve Masters of the Goddess present also, which rarely happened due to security reasons. There must be something major happening, he thought, although he couldn’t imagine what it was.

‘Prince Bryce.’ Maelgwn held up a goblet to toast the lad. ‘For thy gallant deeds during the recent debacle, we of the council would like to honour thee. Fetch the man a drink.’ One of the maids was quick to oblige the High King’s command and Maelgwn handed the proceedings over to Tory, who held her goblet high.

‘To Prince “I shall be a brave knight” Bryce, for succeeding in his aspiration.’

‘To Prince Bryce.’ The room cheered, drank to his bravery and were again seated.

Bryce just stood there, stunned. He was so overwhelmed he didn’t know what to do. Luckily, his father was on hand to grab him in a headlock and ruffle his hair.

‘Thou art thy father’s son, alright.’

‘Not in every respect,’ Bryce grinned, as he cast his father off, ‘but I am working on it.’

‘If I might cut in.’ Vortipor drew a magnificent steel sword from its scabbard and waved it in front of the young Prince’s eyes. ‘I hear thine own weapon met with an unfortunate accident. Thus, please accept this meagre offering as a small token of my appreciation.’

‘Meagre offering!’ Bryce took hold of the sword reverently and moved to a space where he could wield it freely.

‘I think he likes it,’ Brockwell commented aside to Vortipor.

But this was not the greatest reward the council had planned for their teenage hero.

Bryce’s adopted mother, Queen Katren of Powys, rose from her seat at the main table to carry forth his prize. ‘Dear Bryce.’ She called for his attention.

Bryce gave his sword a rest. He noticed how quiet the room had gone suddenly as he looked to his mother. She walked toward him carrying the black training attire of a Master. The lad’s heart leapt into his throat. Could it be that his time had finally come?

‘Thy gallantry of late, my son, hast made me very proud. It hast also made me realise that there be another in Powys more deserving to be a Master than I, and therefore I stand down from my position in the twelve in favour of that brave soul who hast proven himself most worthy.’

Both mother and son were tearful as the young Prince accepted the uniform. He bowed to his mother, as they did in mastery classes.

‘On behalf of myself,’ Tory began in a formal tone, ‘and on behalf of Maelgwn, High King of Gwynedd; Vortipor, the Protector of Dyfed; the Lady Cara; Sir Rhys and Lady Jenovefa of Din Lligwy; Sir Angus and Lady Alma of Caernarvon; King Brockwell of Powys; Sir Tiernan, champion to the High King; and my champion the Lady Ione, I do welcome thee to our circle.’

Bryce stood at attention bursting with pride as he took in the words of his Sensei.

‘Thou art, from this day forth, a teacher, a protector and a representative of Briton, the Goddess and her mysteries. For this be the will and the way of the Goddess,’ Tory concluded

‘So be it,’ the assembly announced with great cheer.

As soon as the formalities were over, Katren hugged her boy.

‘Am I dreaming?’ he questioned.

His mother pulled back to hold him at arms length and shook her head. ‘Congratulations!’ She admired the fine young man she’d raised, and was urged to hug him again.

Tory was also bursting with pride. She had begun training Bryce in the martial arts at age five; now, at fifteen, he had become her youngest student to earn the title of Master and be initiated into the circle of twelve — a record that she imagined he would hold for many years to come.

The celebrations continued into the wee hours of the morning. Tory was just considering calling it a night when her champion, the Lady Ione, found her.

‘Majesty.’ She bowed her head slightly and leaned close to Tory. ‘A situation hast developed that requires thy attention. If thee would quietly follow me.’

The High Queen slipped out of the banquet room without even Maelgwn noticing. ‘Ione.’ Tory made haste to catch her champion up. ‘What hast happened?’

‘The Lady Cara asked my advice on a sensitive matter, but I suggested she speak to thee,’ Ione informed gravely.

This surprised Tory, as Cara and Ione had never been especially close and Ione was a ‘call in times of physical danger’ kind of girl. Why would Cara have turned to Ione in an emotional crisis? Because Ione hast also been raped, Tory theorised on the quiet.

Ione led her to a small sitting room at the other end of the castle, where Queen Katren of Powys was comforting a very distraught Lady Cara.

The Queen of Powys looked at her as Tory entered the room, her eyes filled with tears of empathy. ‘The High Queen be here, Cara.’ Katren encouraged her to sit upright and state her woes.

‘Cara?’ Tory knelt before her and took hold of both the lady’s hands. ‘What ails thee?’

‘I fear,’ she sobbed, ‘that the Goddess hast abandoned me … I am with child.’ Cara collapsed into uncontrollable weeping once more.

Obviously she feared that the child was Conan’s. ‘Cara, my sweet, I understand thy doubt,’ Tory began, ‘but be it not just as likely that the child in thy womb be of thy husband’s making?’

Cara had considered this, but her fear was too great to allow her to seriously entertain that happy notion. She stared at her Sensei, so wanting to believe it.

‘I put it to thee in this way. Conan had thee but one night of last month. How many times did Vortipor have thee?’ Tory had to smile as she asked the question, as Cara had often commented that Vortipor was far too devoted to that facet of husbandry.

As Cara thought seriously on the question, she too was forced to concede that the odds were tipped largely in her husband’s favour. ‘But will that be Vortipor’s reaction? He can never know for sure. Goddess forbid if I bore a son!’

‘Well, what choice dost thou have?’ Tory stood, angered by the realisation that Cara was hinting at aborting it.

‘I wast hoping thee might suggest some means to be rid of it.’ Cara was slowly choking on her remorse at suggesting it, but she did not retract her words.

Now Tory understood why she had confided in Ione. As Tory looked to her champion, Ione confessed: ‘If I had fallen with child from my rape at the hands of Prince Caradoc, I would have kept it.’ Tory was appeased by her champion’s resolve and had turned back to Cara to preach the child’s cause, when Ione added: ‘That child would now be of three and twenty years, and if male, I warrant he would be out to avenge his father’s death by the hand of thy husband, King Maelgwn, and to steal the throne of Gwynedd.’

That scenario served to enlighten Tory to the far-reaching implications of such a pregnancy. ‘Whoa!’ The High Queen’s mind boggled. This question was too complex for her to fathom the right thing to do. ‘I think we need to consult Taliesin on this one.’ She looked to Cara to get her okay.

‘Alright.’ Cara nodded. The advice of a High Merlin would certainly not go astray.

‘Take my hands.’ Tory took up Cara’s limp grip and pulled her to standing posture.

‘What art thou doing?’ Cara smiled through her tears.

‘Taking thee to see Taliesin,’ Tory announced in a playful fashion. ‘I have learnt a new trick.’

‘What —’

‘Just close thy eyes and do not let go of my hands,’ Tory instructed Cara, closing her own eyes to concentrate.

‘Goodness!’ Cara cried with delighted expectation as both she and Tory slowly vanished from sight.

Katren and Ione were completely thunderstruck.

‘Truly, the hand of the Goddess be upon her,’ uttered Katren, before clapping her hands delightedly. ‘Excellent! Tory shall be able to visit more often now.’

Maelgwn returned to the main table where he’d left Tory, of the mind to whisk her away to their chambers for a lustful encounter. He was highly disappointed to find her missing. ‘Oh damn,’ he mumbled. Tory always told him when she was retiring, so this meant she’d wandered off somewhere. The High King collapsed into his seat, too drunk to be bothered searching the castle for his wife. He held out a goblet towards Vortipor, who was refilling his own.

‘Hast thou any idea of my good queen’s whereabouts?’ asked Maelgwn, as his goblet was refilled.

‘Cara’s missing, too, and Queen Katren,’ Vortipor grumbled, ready for bed himself. ‘They’re probably all off together somewhere.’

So much for a lustful encounter, Maelgwn thought glumly. If the women had retreated to talk, that was the last he’d see of Tory tonight. Whilst he was dwelling on the subject of lust, Maelgwn thought to inquire of Vortipor’s decision regarding Conan. Still, this was a celebration — that topic would be best left until the meeting of the allies the following day.

Vortipor was considering that the women might be discussing Cara’s misadventure, for she had been reluctant to speak of it with him. She strove to be the same carefree, loving wife she’d always been, but when they made love now there was an element of constraint that had not been there prior to the sad incident. Vortipor expected that this would heal in time, and he was glad that Cara had close female friends who could aid her through her pain where he could not.

‘I had the bastard drawn and quartered,’ Vortipor advised the High King.

Maelgwn was startled, thinking Vortipor had read his mind. ‘I would have left him to rot in darkness a few years first,’ he commented, pleased that the episode was closed.

‘Cara could not abide the thought of him living in the same dwelling, so I wast forced to show mercy. I could have transferred him to a dungeon elsewhere, but why risk an escape?’ he reasoned and Maelgwn quite agreed.

‘I promised Aurelius Caninus that I would set Gwent Is Coed to rights in Conan’s wake, and I shall. Sir Leoline shall administer the Council’s rule of the kingdom for the time being, until a suitable heir to the throne can be found or appointed.’

‘But the old king had no living heirs or relatives, bar Conan.’ Vortipor pointed out.

Maelgwn shrugged. ‘When a throne be left vacant, it be amazing how many long-lost relatives crawl out of the woodwork.’

‘Oh, brother!’ Vortipor held his head with both hands. He had not yet considered the nightmarish chore of tracing the validity of claimants to the throne.

‘Fear not, old friend.’ Maelgwn slapped the Protector’s shoulder and encouraged him to drink. ‘We shall face that horror together, when and if we come to it.’

‘To keeping the horrors at bay,’ Vortipor proposed, clinking his goblet against Maelgwn’s.

‘Here, here.’ The High King drank to that.

Tory’s visualisation of the entrance foyer to Taliesin’s otherworldly labyrinth manifested around her, and she was not surprised to find the High Merlin waiting to greet them. She released herself from the grip Cara had on her. ‘Open thine eyes, Cara. We have arrived.’

When Cara beheld her grand and wondrous surroundings, she could not help but be enchanted. The art, decoration and architecture were unlike anything she’d ever imagined. That was when Cara realised that Tory had brought her into the realms of the Otherworld.

‘Splendid. I see thou art finally utilising another aspect of thy potential, Highness.’ Taliesin bowed to Tory and then to Cara. ‘My Lady. I have been expecting thee, please follow me.’ He turned to lead them out through the double doors located at one end of the large cathedral-like room.

As they followed, Cara gripped hold of Tory’s arm once more. ‘Stay with me,’ she pleaded, wary of the unknown.

‘I am with thee, all the way.’ Tory patted her hand in assurance.

The Merlin didn’t take them very far into his maze. Tory suspected that this was to avoid giving Cara sensory overload.

They entered a room that was candlelit and cosy and contained nothing that would have been unfamiliar to Cara. The lady relaxed upon entering, and Taliesin motioned both women to be seated on the large scatter cushions in front of the fireplace. Once all three of them were settled, Taliesin looked to Cara and said: ‘I know thy woes, Lady. I know thou art seeking answers to a question that, if only thee knew the full truth of it, thee could answer.’

‘Aye.’ Tears of hope filled Cara’s eyes.

‘I can tell thee the whole truth, and grant thee some insight into the future … if thou dost wish it?’ As Cara nodded in agreement without thought, the Merlin cautioned her. ‘I must confess that at this point I have only seen fragments of what may lay in store for thee. I need thy permission to see the complete picture. But I cannot guarantee thou shalt like what I have to say. Art thou prepared to face the worst?’

‘Better that I know, than spend a life in torture wondering,’ replied Cara, resolutely.

‘Then give me thy hand.’

Cara offered her right hand to the High Merlin, which he took hold of with his left. Taliesin then reached his right hand inside his robes to grip hold of something that hung on a chain about his neck. Although Tory wondered what that something might be, she maintained her silence so as not to disturb his truthsaying.

Taliesin closed his eyes and went very quiet for some time, which was agonising for Cara as the Merlin’s expression gave nothing away.

‘The Goddess hast not abandoned thee, Cara,’ he said finally, and the Lady was set to burst into tears of joy when he added. ‘Thou art to be tested, however.’

‘Nay.’ Her voice filled with dread.

‘Listen to me.’ Taliesin cautioned her to calm. ‘I know what lies in store for thee and the identity of this child’s true father, but thou dost not need to know. It be enough that I am aware.’

‘Nay.’ Cara regained her composure. ‘I want to know all that thou dost.’

‘Then I shall be frank with thee.’ The Merlin took hold of both her hands now. ‘Muster all thy strength, Cara, for what I have to tell thee will not be easy to hear. Bear in mind that thou art being tested, and so seek only the lesson and the good that will come of thy fate. For if thee can do this, all shall be well with thy soul, thy family and thy kingdom.’

Cara took three deep breaths and then nodded for Taliesin to continue.

‘The first thing thou must know be that this pregnancy will kill thee.’

Cara gasped with shock, but the Merlin continued regardless of her horror.

‘Try and abort this babe and thou shalt die in the attempt. See the pregnancy through to full term and the delivery shall kill thee.’

Tory rushed to place a comforting arm around Cara as she was now continually gasping for breath. ‘Taliesin!’ Tory was mortified that he could be so brutal in the delivery of such news.

‘The child will be male.’ The Merlin regained Cara’s full attention with this statement. ‘He will be the only living heir to the throne of Gwent Is Coed.’

‘Nay!!’ Cara collapsed into an hysterical fit of tears as all of her worst fears were realised.

‘How could thee?’ Tory demanded an explanation. It was not like Taliesin to be so callous.

‘She must come to terms with the harsh hand she hast been dealt, before we can draw the good from it.’

‘Good!’ Cara raised herself back off the floor to a seated position. ‘Conan’s bastard be killing me!’

Taliesin shook his head to enlighten her. ‘This child saved thee, Cara. Thee should have died by Conan’s hand, but the Goddess spared thee long enough for thee to save Gwent Is Coed from ruin.’

Cara was about to deny any concern for the future of Gwent Is Coed, when she was struck by the consequences the kingdom’s future would have on her own descendants.

‘This extra time the Goddess hast granted thee, thee can use to savour life and thy family here in this day and age, or thee can spend it bitter and tormented.’

Cara began to regain her perspective and her weeping suddenly subsided. She recalled when Conan had overpowered her and she had thought her moments among the living were numbered; to see her family and friends again had been her only desire. ‘The Goddess granted my dying wish,’ she realised.

Taliesin nodded. ‘The child in thy womb shall not grow to be the monster his father was. How could he, when he was conceived in the realms of the Otherworld? He will be known as Urien, and as sure as I am seated here, I can tell thee that in due course he will deliver the whole of Briton from the brink of crisis, Dyfed included.’

‘Why am I being tested in this way?’ Cara sniffled. ‘Have I offended the Goddess?’

‘Spiritually speaking, thou hast travelled in leaps and bounds in this incarnation, Lady. Thou hast all the great qualities of one of the Chosen, save one. Selflessness. This be the final test of thy soul-mind, Cara. If thee can endure this lesson, thy perfect reincarnation can finally be set apart as Chosen and thou shalt find life eternal upon thy death when thy spirit joins thy immortal self. If not, thou shall reincarnate again and again. For this lesson must be learnt before thee can join the ranks of the Chosen Ones and be freed of earthly karma to move on in the universal scheme of things.’

Taliesin made death sound more amazing than life, Cara thought. ‘What would thee do in my place?’ Cara looked to Tory for her opinion.

Tory exhaled heavily as she considered all the facts. ‘I would grant the Goddess her heir and take what time I could to enjoy my family to the fullest.’

Lady Cara bit her lip before posing her next question. ‘And remembering that thee could always tell thy husband that the child died in birthing, would thee make him aware the child was not his?’

Goddamn. Tory considered Cara’s plight. Cara had some monstrous decisions to make. ‘Although it might effect the time that was left to us, I would tell him. Considering the circumstances, I feel sure that Maelgwn would support and respect my decision.’

‘But thy husband be an emotionally mature soul, whereas Vortipor …’ she shook her head.

‘I would urge thee,’ Taliesin spoke up, ‘and thy husband, not to think of this child as the son of Aurelius Conan, but as the grandson of Aurelius Caninus, who hast been a dear and trusted ally to ye both for many, many years.’

Cara stared into the firelight. It was too much to take in all at once. ‘Who shall raise the babe upon my passing?’ she queried, her eyes entranced by the flames.

‘The young king shall have three guardians: myself, so he shall know the way of the Goddess; Sir Leoline, so he shall know the way of the warrior and the duties of state; and, thirdly, a Lord Bishop, who goes by the name of Samson —’

‘Nay,’ Cara insisted. ‘No priest.’

‘He must know and respect the two faiths of his people to rule more wisely than both of his predecessors.’ The Merlin spoke up over Cara’s protest. ‘This holy man studied with the High King for many years. King Maelgwn will vouch for his good character.’

There was still the look of distaste about Cara as she relented. ‘I want to meet with this bishop.’

‘Excellent,’ Taliesin conceded, calmly. ‘For he shall certainly wish to meet with thee.’

6

Shortcomings

In order to face her fears in their entirety, Cara told Vortipor the whole truth. By so doing she was granted an extraordinary insight into her husband.

Her confession prompted a giant outpouring of pent-up fears and emotions from both Vortipor and herself. Never before in their ten years of marriage had they sat up talking until the dawn about deep and meaningful issues. Together they had reached the decision to have the child, and hand him over into the safekeeping of Taliesin Pen Bierdd, as the Goddess would have it. Vortipor refused to believe that Cara would be dead by next Beltaine, but intended to make the most of every moment they had together, whether the prophecy came to pass or not.

The redeemed man, Vortipor, made his way down to the lowest levels of the dungeons at Castle Dwyran. It was rare that anyone committed a crime so grievous as to be condemned to rot in the dark, damp stench of this place. Most of the prisoners were kept on the upper prison levels where some light penetrated into the cells. These pits were reserved for the scum whose crimes were too horrendous to be atoned for by their death.

Vortipor came to stand over an iron grille in the floor. ‘Art thou enjoying thy accommodation here at Castle Dwyran, Highness?’

‘Thee cannot treat one of royal blood like this, Vortipor.’ Conan’s voice echoed up out of the dark pit. ‘My people —’

‘Bid thee good riddance,’ Vortipor cut in. ‘Everyone wast most relieved to hear that I had had thee drawn and quartered.’

‘What!’

‘Aye, Conan,’ Vortipor teased maliciously. ‘To all bar me, thou art dead and buried.’

‘Lying maggot!’

‘Well, we all have shortcomings, and thou art mine.’ The prisoner went quiet, no doubt wondering what his fate was to be. Vortipor decided to enlighten him. ‘Make thyself at home. I shall be back to see how thou art faring in a couple of seasons.’

‘Nay, Vortipor,’ Conan cried out in desperation. ‘If thou hast the slightest shred of mercy thou shalt kill me now.’

But the Protector had decided that only if Cara survived the birth of this child would he be merciful and kill Conan. If his wife died as Taliesin had predicted, then her murderer would be left to ponder the error of his ways and slowly decay in this godforsaken hole in the ground until natural causes took his life. ‘If thy misery be so great, then put an end to it thyself,’ the Protector suggested.

As his religious beliefs prevented him from taking such action, and Vortipor well knew it, Conan was infuriated. ‘Thou shalt rot in hell for this, Vortipor!’

‘Fortunately I do not believe in the existence of such a place,’ the Protector commented cheerfully. ‘Eternal torment be reserved for fearful, diseased minds the like of thine, which can conceive of a realm of such utter darkness and torture. Still, I suppose it doth give thee something to look forward to, beyond thy current abode.’

‘I can survive this place,’ Conan threatened. ‘Leave me alive and I shall come back to haunt thee.’

‘Only time will tell if thou art half the man thou dost claim to be,’ Vortipor decreed. ‘I am thy only friend now, Conan, and I shall talk to thee next spring. If thou art lucky, I shall kill thee then.’

The Protector left the fallen King of Gwent cussing and cursing, feeling no remorse or sympathy for him. It was up to the Goddess to decree his fate now.

The High Merlin, Sir Leoline and the Lord Bishop of Glamorgan in Gwent were led to Vortipor’s Room of Court at Castle Dwyran, where the Lady Cara was awaiting to grant them an audience.

Taliesin had the debatable honour of making the introductions, for Cara and the Lord Bishop regarded each other with suspicion.

‘I remember thee, priest,’ Cara stated, sourly. ‘Thee would not believe thy Prince’s abuse of me … well, now it hast manifested!’ She held her swollen belly. ‘Or dost thou believe this to be just a happy coincidence?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ Taliesin spoke up for the young Bishop, who was fearful of losing his head if he spoke his mind, ‘he doth have his doubts.’

Cara’s eyes narrowed as she seethed. ‘What have I to gain by such a lie? Why would I drag my loved ones through this trauma and thwart my husband’s desire for a male heir to his kingdom?’

‘Because this way the alliance be rid of a Christian King in Gwent and can replace him with one moulded in the native faith,’ the Bishop said boldly.

As Cara’s anger was robbing her of speech, Taliesin intervened. ‘If that were our intent, Lord Bishop, then why inform thee of the event?’

‘A crafty trick, I suspect,’ Samson told Taliesin plainly.

‘Or the simple truth.’ The Merlin shrugged.

Sir Leoline cleared his throat, and stepped forward to say his piece. ‘I have known Conan all his life and I am familiar with all the players in this sad affair. In my experience, the only person involved that I have ever known to lie be Conan. My Lord Bishop, High Merlin and Lady Cara, thou art all good and honest people. In that knowledge I must concede that the Lady Cara doth carry the grandchild of my late and beloved ruler. It shall be my duty and privilege to raise and honour the child as the rightful King of Gwent Is Coed.’ Sir Leoline turned to Samson. ‘The High Merlin and myself can do this without thee, and the king shall grow to be ignorant to the ways of the Christians in his kingdom as thou dost fear. Or thee can partake in the young king’s getting of wisdom, so that a division of faith will never again threaten to plunge our fair kingdom into a civil war.’

Cara was moved to tears by the knight’s faith and conviction. ‘Urien will be lucky to have such a mentor as thee, Sir Leoline.’ She gave her blessing to the knight’s role as a guardian of her unborn child. ‘I shall not lie to thee, priest.’ The Lady Cara looked back to Samson. ‘I did not want any of thy faith influencing my son, but I see the wisdom of the High Merlin and Sir Leoline’s forecast … Urien must know and respect the beliefs of all those he means to rule, and unlike his father, he must be taught love and respect of his homeland. I have had thee investigated, Lord Bishop, and by all accounts, thou dost have a sound, questioning mind and a good heart. Therefore, I put it to thee … vow allegiance to my child’s cause or risk being driven from thy homeland by him.’

Samson didn’t trust the High Merlin, but he suspected that his wariness was due more to ignorance and superstition than instinct. The Lady Cara was renowned as being chaste and charitable, which knowledge cast a shadow of doubt on his suspicion that her claim was fraudulent. Sir Leoline’s word the Lord Bishop had come to trust implicitly. Deep down Samson knew that his hesitation to commit to this cause didn’t stem from not believing their tale. He didn’t want to concede that the teachings of his faith had bred such a contemptuous, treasonous and morally corrupt individual as Conan, when all in Gwent had held such high hopes for him.

Samson looked to Taliesin and then to Leoline, wondering what he was letting himself in for. ‘I do vow allegiance to thy child, Lady.’ He went down on one knee before her. ‘I deplore the circumstances of his conception and deeply regret that thy first encounter with one of my faith hast led us into disrepute in thine eyes. I vow that I shall do all within my power to ensure that the unborn king grows to be all that his father failed to be.’

Cara suddenly saw the High King in this man. He had Maelgwn’s same talent for diplomacy and reason. ‘So be it, then.’ Cara looked to each of the three men. ‘Remember my pains in delivery, gentlemen, and raise me a good, brave and wise son.’ As her emotions threatened to overwhelm her, Cara took her leave.

As the day of birthing was nigh, Tory went to stay with Cara at Castle Dwyran, and brought Old Hetty with her. Hetty was the most experienced midwife in Gwynedd, and the whole of Briton most likely. She had run a brothel for many years, hence her talent with birthing babies was a by-product of that enterprise.

Vortipor was alone with Cara when she went into labour. The contraction horrified the lady for, once again, she knew that death had come calling for her.

‘Do not weep, my love.’ Vortipor held her and rocked her gently. ‘I feel sure that the Goddess will spare thee —’

Cara placed her hand over her husband’s mouth and shook her head. She knew in her soul that her time was up. ‘I decided at the time Urien wast made known to me what I would do this day. The Goddess will have her heir, but I refuse to be tortured to my death.’ Vortipor nodded, not really understanding her intent. ‘So, my love …’ Cara held his face in both her hands to beseech him. ‘I must ask of thee a great favour.’

Make haste, the Lady Cara’s life be in great peril.

Tory awoke to Taliesin’s voice resounding through her brain. She responded quickly, throwing on her clothes as she raced to her friend’s aid.

‘What hast happened?’ Tory inquired of Vortipor, whom she encountered first.

‘Cara’s wrists have been cut.’ Taliesin approached to tell her.

Tory was deeply shocked by the news. ‘She took her own life?’

Taliesin looked at Vortipor, suspecting otherwise. ‘It would appear so,’ he advised. ‘The Lady died just a moment ago.’

Although Tory was deeply saddened by the news of Cara’s passing, her first concern was for the wellbeing of the child. ‘The babe will suffocate unless we cut him from her, and quick!’

‘Hetty prepares to do just that,’ Taliesin informed.

As the High Queen moved to join the commotion around the bed, Taliesin placed a hand on the Protector’s shoulder. ‘This be but a short separation, Vortipor. Ye have the whole of eternity to be together.’

The Protector looked to the High Merlin, his eyes dry, but swollen red from crying. ‘The second that child be born I want it gone from my kingdom.’

Taliesin nodded. He understood the man’s loss and torment and so said nothing more.

The Protector left the chaos of his chamber and was halfway down the stairwell when the cries of the newborn reached his ears and shattered his heart. That could have been the cry of his son; this could have been one of the happiest moments of his life! If not for Conan. This conclusion chilled the Protector to the bone.

As Vortipor came to stand on the iron grille atop the pit in his lower dungeon, his anger had a grip on every fibre of his being; he even found it difficult to speak. ‘Now thou art completely friendless, Conan.’

‘Vortipor?’ A voice croaked in the darkness, a voice far less self-righteous than that belonging to the prisoner he’d left there many months before. ‘I feared thou had forgotten me. Please say thou hast come to end this torment.’

‘Thy torment be just beginning, Conan,’ Vortipor advised, his voice gruff with restraint. ‘And with that made plain to thee, now I shall forget thee.’

‘Nay!’ Conan screamed. ‘Mercy, Vortipor … for pity’s sake, mercy.’

The pleas of the condemned man had trailed off into hopeless weeping when Vortipor reached the warden on duty, who awaited him by the stairs. ‘No one speaks with this prisoner lest his tongue be cut from his head. No one sees him and lives to tell of it. He receives food and water only.’

‘Aye, Lord.’ The warden bowed.

‘Thou shalt have twice thy pay for as long as thee can keep him alive and unbeknownst to any living soul.’

‘I understand, my Lord Protector.’ The warden bowed again. ‘Thou art most generous.’

As he departed from the foul recesses of his stronghold, Vortipor could only hope that Conan would survive to suffer as long as he would himself.

When the High Merlin of the Druids came knocking at the monastery gate in Glamorgan in the middle of the night, the monastic community there were concerned, to say the least.

‘Return to thy beds,’ Samson instructed his clergy. ‘I shall see to our caller.’

Once their audience had departed, Samson opened the gate and stepped outside to speak with his new acquaintance. ‘What be the meaning of this, High Merlin?’ The Bishop was about to launch into a spiel about appearances and rightful conduct when the Merlin suddenly produced a bundle from the folds of his cloak.

‘May I present Urien, King of Gwent Is Coed.’ He handed the tiny babe over to the mystified priest. ‘I wast just on my way to deliver him to Sir Leoline, who has nursemaids waiting to suckle the young king to good health, but I thought thee might like to baptise him first.’

Samson’s attention shifted abruptly from the newborn in his arms to the druid at his side, for such consideration overwhelmed him. ‘It will be my honour,’ he replied. ‘Do come in.’

The Bishop led the High Merlin in through the monastery gates, and side by side they admired the new King as they crossed the open ground to the chapel.

The PME orb I held in my hand shut off, catapulting me back through time to my room at the Purcell Institute of Chailida on Kila.

Given a moment to get my bearings and consider the episode that I had just relived, I became increasingly frustrated — Tory’s insight into the matter hadn’t satisfied my curiosity. It had only raised more questions. I was still no closer to discovering what had driven Selwyn to madness and isolation, nor had it been made clear to me what Maelgwn Gwynedd did to earn the title of High King. Why had Gwyn ap Nudd abducted Tory? What had Selwyn done to make the Lord of the Night seek revenge … and then how on earth had the young Druid appeased the God to save the day?

In addition, there was another point of interest that I had noted whilst viewing this orb. Among the additional accounts that Tory had collected to compile her reconstruction of the period, I had espied memory inserts from Brian, Cadwallon, Cadwell, Nerida and Maelgwn. But two players in this tale whom I did not recognise, Samson and Conan, had also made small contributions.

Fortunately, our good Governess had left an open window in her schedule that evening, fully expecting another visit from me.

We sat in the lounge of the Governor’s private abode. Tory was sitting down, quietly sipping a cool drink as I fired my questions at her.

‘Conan and Samson’s souls are among the Chosen now.’ Tory was able to answer one of my many queries, although the rest she was unable to help me with. ‘I warned you, Noah,’ she said. ‘I have made known to you everything that I can recall. Maelgwn remembers even less. You could seek out Gwyn ap Nudd, but I have a funny feeling you would not be very well received. So, that leaves only one option.’

I took a deep breath to overcome the butterflies that were fluttering around in my gut. It escaped my reasoning as to how I could so dread a recollection that I couldn’t recollect. ‘I’d like to think that I am as brave as the next member of the Chosen.’ I tried to express this mysterious reluctance to confront my questions on my own. ‘But I have to tell you, this business makes me very uneasy.’

Only a small part of thy psyche is ill at ease … the part of you that is Selwyn.

Both Tory and I were startled by Taliesin’s voice as his spirit form manifested in a blaze of etheric light.

Selwyn was not emotionally mature enough to handle the events of the time you seek to remember. You, as his Chosen incarnation, are emotionally equipped to cope with the memory now. If you are prepared to face the fear, then Selwyn’s trauma can finally be confronted and released, then you will both rest much easier.

As my eyes adjusted to the bright illumination Taliesin was exuding, I could make out the vague features of the once High Merlin’s form. ‘This is an honour.’ I avoided the issue at hand to express my heartfelt awe of the ascended Master’s presence.

‘Isn’t it just.’ Tory was obviously irked that after waiting so long to make contact, Taliesin hadn’t come to see her.

There is a keyword to unlocking the memories you seek. Taliesin’s attention didn’t waver.

I blocked my ears, not yet ready to commit either way. ‘Hold on a minute!’ I rose to pace out my indecision.

At your leave, Taliesin assured, granting me a moment to collect myself.

As Tory watched my frustrated movements, she calmly rose and brought me to a stop. ‘It is the past, Noah. The only way it can hurt you now is by holding it in. It is time to set all our minds at rest about what truly happened in the mists that night … let it be known, and let it go.’

Her plea boosted my courage, and thus I gave a determined nod. ‘Alright,’ I agreed, moving to fetch a thought-recorder from my bag.

I settled back down into my seat, and having activated the orb to record, I gave Taliesin the all-clear. ‘I am ready.’

Taliesin didn’t come out with the password until he had verbally guided me into a deep meditative state. When I was breathing easy, and relaxed, Taliesin instructed:

The memory Selwyn locked away,
bring forth to his Chosen this day.

Recall the night on which ye fell,
under the enchantment of ‘Amabel’.

‘Amabel,’ I felt disturbed upon uttering the name. My eyes remained firmly closed as if I were sedated. My head rocked from side to side on the headrest of the chair, although it was not by my will that it did so. ‘Amabel, Amabel …’ I mumbled over and over, as the past came rushing at me like a tidal wave, to sweep me up in its momentum and carry me back to the Dark Age.

7

The Siren Song

Work progressed slowly at Conan’s construction site at Craig-y-Ddinas. The tradesmen and soldiers went about their duties warily, hindered by the heavy mist.

All at the site were greatly relieved by the presence of a druid — someone experienced in otherworldly affairs the like of which they were experiencing. Selwyn felt rather overwhelmed by their confidence in him, for although he was a student of the greater mysteries, he had done far more theory than practical application where communication with other entities was concerned. When he had ventured into otherworldly realms in the past it had always been under Taliesin’s watchful eye; this time, however, he would go it alone. Not that Selwyn was too sure how he was going to seek out the Tylwyth Teg.

The white shroud hadn’t lifted from the work site, or even stirred since the first stake of the construction had been driven into the ground. At that fateful moment the mist had manifested out of nowhere and had been taunting all within it ever since.

‘By “torment” you mean the disappearance of thy colleagues?’ Selwyn questioned the stonemason who was filling him in on the situation.

‘Some of us have vanished,’ the man conceded, chipping away at his stone block. ‘But that hast not been our greatest worry. The mist knows our thoughts, and hast reacted to different men in different ways. It seems to mirror the spirit of the soul it confronts, and threatens or seduces it accordingly. I have never been so thankful to be a man of few desires and good character.’ The middle-aged mason gave half a chuckle. ‘Some men have been forced to flee their livelihood here for fear of themselves!’

‘The mist tests thee?’ Selwyn clarified.

‘Toys with thee, more like,’ the stonemason grunted in agreement with himself. ‘Every man here could tell thee a tale of a ghost, a fear or a desire he hast confronted in the past few months.’

‘Thou hast had such an experience, then?’ Selwyn wanted to find out as much as he could about the situation before he sought out the source.

‘Aye, many. I am becoming more used to life in the Otherworld than life in the real world,’ he joked, and then shrugged. ‘The key to lifting the spell cast by the mist seems to be in recognising the fantasy and willing it away.’

What the stonemason said was true enough. Will was the greatest form of expression in the etheric world. Selwyn also agreed with the mason’s point that Craig-y-Ddinas felt more as if it was a spirit realm than a physical one at present.

‘Then my will could be more effective here than under normal circumstances?’ Selwyn posed. It was just a theory, but anything was worth a try.

Physical teleportation had its limits. Usually you were required to picture a place or a person then will yourself there, which served to restrict the etheric traveller to destinations and people they were already familiar with. Selwyn had no idea what the Tylwyth Teg looked like and he certainly wasn’t familiar with any of their main abodes.

‘Not to worry,’ he told himself. He always had his faith. He closed his eyes to breathe in the unusual atmosphere that prevailed at Craig-y-Ddinas. Goddess aid me to aid thee … take me to the closest being belonging to the folk known as the Tylwyth Teg.

Upon parting his eyelids, Selwyn knew at once that he’d been teleported elsewhere, for there was no mist. Then the shocking realisation occurred that he was, in fact, in exactly the same place. This was Craig-y-Ddinas; the distinctive topographical features of the landscape were clearly identifiable. And yet, there was no construction or destruction of any sort here. The flora flourished like a well-tended garden, the explosive colours of which near bowled Selwyn over. There was a distant sun glowing in the sky, but it was not the golden orb he knew; this place was illuminated by a brilliant blue sphere. Every single object, from the leaves on the trees to the finest grain of dirt at his feet, gave off the most brilliant illumination as a result. Selwyn understood why everything here glowed, for the blue rays of this sun felt twice as invigorating as the sunlight he was more accustomed to. This was the ‘Land of the Dead’, the ‘Land of Eternal Youth’. Annwn — the Otherworld.

‘So where shall I find the being I wish to encounter?’ Selwyn asked out loud, speaking with the Goddess as if she were right beside him.

A gentle breeze brushed over the druid, carrying with it the sound of a distant song.

The harmonious melody was more lovely than any instrument or voice he’d heard before, and more masterfully handled than his fingers would ever be on the harp strings. The dulcet tones beckoned him to seek its source; being a musician himself, how could he not?

The druid wandered down the steep incline and through the vale to the confluence of two rivers. There, on a rock by the water’s edge, was a young woman. This was no human female, however, as she sported a beautiful pair of glistening wings that appeared so sheer they were almost transparent. Her additional appendages were not shaped like those of a bird, or dragon, being more akin to the wings of a butterfly. Her body, clothed in a dress of woven flowers, appeared as dense as Selwyn’s own, and he wondered if anything that appeared so real could be an apparition.

The song being sung had no words that he recognised, and yet Selwyn could tell from the melancholy vein of it that this being was at odds. As her back was to him, Selwyn cleared his throat to make himself known to her.

The being gasped, alarmed, and turning to spy the druid, she instantly vanished.

‘Nay, come back,’ Selwyn appealed to the empty space left in her wake. ‘I mean thee no harm.’

When the being did not return, Selwyn’s thoughts turned to the harp on his back, where it permanently resided when he was on the move. Although he couldn’t hope to match the talent of the being that he’d startled, perhaps he could set her at ease with a tune.

He removed the harp’s skin carry-case and found a fallen tree which provided a seat of good height. Upon resting the harp gently against his shoulder, Selwyn began to play what he recalled of the tune he’d just heard. He found the atmosphere of the wood around him most inspiring. He forgot about keeping an eye out for the being and closed his eyes, absorbed in playing.

A tiny voice came to resonate with his notes, and he opened his eyes to find her, only now the being was no bigger than his thumb and danced around upon the bridge of his harp. The strain of her tune was much more joyful now, thus Selwyn played on. After a little while the being doubled in size and wandered down onto his shoulder, singing all the while. Then Selwyn felt her snuggle up against his cheek. As he turned his head slightly, trying to glimpse her, the winged being took flight.

Her soaring, twirling movements were like a dance, which she performed all around him. Every now and then she would break from her movement to come up close to Selwyn, and by either kissing his cheek or snuggling against it, she expressed her complete rapture.

This went on for some time as Selwyn was afraid to stop playing for fear she would depart again.

Thou art not of Annwn. Art thou of Abred? she bethought him as she continued to sing her siren song. Selwyn nodded; Abred was the ancient term that referred to the physical realm or the middle kingdoms. ‘I am Selwyn,’ he said quietly, whereupon she alighted on the overturned tree beside him and in a burst of silvery light she increased her size to match his own proportions.

I am Amabel, she advised mentally, her beauteous tune building in intensity to match the size of the form she now entertained.

‘Art thou of the folk known as the Tylwyth Teg?’ Selwyn struggled to concentrate on his mission, and not how his heart was stirring in his chest, moved to bursting point by her haunting aria.

Amabel nodded to confirm. Thou art very beautiful for one of thy ilk, Selwyn. She referred more to his sparkling aura than his physical form.

Her thought came through to him in the form of a sultry whisper, and Selwyn felt himself blushing — the heat in his face overwhelmed him. The fluttering in his heart induced a stirring in his loins, the like of which he had never experienced in a conscious state. The unexpected stimulation caused his fingers to falter on the strings, and he noted how close to him the beautiful being was sitting. ‘I am pleased that thou dost not find me offensive,’ he replied with as steady a voice as he could maintain.

Dost thou find me offensive? Amabel’s wings suddenly retracted into her shoulders and vanished from view.

Selwyn could hardly believe the question. How could any being in creation not be completely overwhelmed by her beauty? It was not like him to notice the physical attributes of the opposite gender. No woman had ever come closer to perfection in his eyes than the Queen of Gwynedd, but Amabel’s loveliness even surpassed Tory’s.

Her hair hung in long snowy-white ringlets, and her eyes were a most unusual shade of pale blue-green. The waif-like body of a woman was enfolded in the milky white skin of a young girl, and Amabel’s telepathic voice was nearly as sweet as her melodious song.

‘Thou art a vision of perfection, Amabel,’ he told her, averting his eyes for fear of succumbing to the desire that was welling within him. Her song was driving him to distraction. Why was he here? What was it he was supposed to be doing?

Then why dost thee turn away? Amabel swung around in front of him, going down on one knee to look up into his face. Can thee not feel the energy that weaves around us, urging us to unite?

Selwyn closed his eyes. His tune and her song were racing towards a climax that he feared the consequences of, yet he could no sooner stop playing than hold back the tide. The desire he felt at this moment surpassed every meaningful emotion he had ever had all put together.

As her lips brushed gently against Selwyn’s neck, their duet reached its crescendo, igniting such passion as Selwyn had never conceived of. A moment later it was no longer the harp he gently caressed, but Amabel. His fingers trembled under the duress of his new-found emotion, and as he felt her body rise to press against his, her dress of flowers dissolved away.

Selwyn awoke to find himself laying naked in a field of flowers. His robes were draped over him and the beautiful creature asleep in his arms. It was a dream he imagined, for surely such bliss was not possible in the physical world. Thus Selwyn snuggled in to await his return to reality. This came sooner than expected.

The druid’s harp, which stood close by, began violently strumming of its own accord, as if trying to alert its player to a pending danger.

Selwyn was far too enchanted to heed it, however, although the harp did rouse Amabel from her slumber.

The nymph snuggled closer to her lover, kissing his chest and neck. I had never imagined a love so deep and tender as thou hast bestowed on me.

‘Nor I,’ Selwyn smiled, brushing her long, soft curls back off her face.

Overjoyed to hear this, Amabel repositioned herself on top of Selwyn to arouse his interest in more love play. Stay with me in Annwn and thou shalt know this bliss for all time.

As she said this, Selwyn’s mission came flooding back, bringing with it a wave of horror. He did not have time to voice his distress nor even sit upright, for the thundering voice of Gwyn ap Nudd resounded through his mind.

How dare thee abuse my hospitality thus!

Selwyn looked up to find the eight foot tall warrior standing over them.

Deceiving whore! He yanked Amabel from on top of Selwyn, and with a wave of the being’s hand she was clothed once more. After all I have done in pursuit of thy affection, how could thee betray my feelings in such a manner?

Thou hast no claim on me. Amabel’s song burst forth, conveying her anger with the booming strain of a tenor. I have told thee countless times, I do not love thee!

What could this fragile scrap of a human have that I do not? Gwyn adopted a more congenial tone to question.

Amabel rolled her eyes as if to say, everything, but she settled on one word. Sensitivity.

Thou dost think me insensitive!

Amabel placed her hands on her hips to inform the Lord: Not an opinion but a well-known fact.

At this stage, Selwyn wished that he possessed the talent to block out their thunderous argument or at least turn the volume down. His head was splitting.

Well, I would not want to damage my reputation. Gwyn reached down and hauled Selwyn up by the scruff of his neck. Fortunately, the druid had managed to throw on his robes during the argument. Let me see what my insensitive brain can come up with to crush and belittle the love of thy life.

Nay! Amabel’s tune changed abruptly. I beg thee, do not torment a spirit of such beauty.

Thou art the one tormenting, and well thee knows it. Begone from my sight, Amabel, before I have thee confined.

Amabel was obviously fearful of his threat, although she still hesitated to comply. Please —

As much as I adore thee, I strongly advise thou dost not test my love further than thou hast.

Amabel burst into tears as she savoured one last glance at Selwyn, and then vanished.

Right. Gwyn held Selwyn up by his robes to view him, and the young Druid hung like a rag doll in the God’s grasp. As thou hast partaken of the pleasures of my beloved, so shall I partake of the pleasures of thine.

‘Lord,’ Selwyn gasped, the neck of his robe choking him. ‘I have no beloved.’

In that case, thy Lord’s woman will suffice. Who dost thou answer to? Gwyn placed the palm of his free hand to Selwyn’s third eye to extract the information. As Selwyn was on a mission for the Dragon at present, this was who Gwyn perceived to be the Druid’s superior. As he glimpsed Maelgwn Gwynedd’s queen, the overwhelming admiration his prisoner had for her was made plain. Tory Alexander, Gwyn announced to the horror of his captive. Thou dost hold her very dear, I think.

‘Nay, Lord, I beseech thee, there must be some way I can pay for my own offence.’

Oh, thou shalt pay for it, druid, Gwyn assured. And thy beloved queen shall pay with thee.

Grief-stricken, Selwyn sat pondering his misdeed from within the darkness of a hollow tree trunk. This was serving as his prison cell whilst Gwyn fetched Tory to his trial. The Druid had tried willing himself out of his entrapment to no avail; Gwyn ap Nudd must have enchanted the tree somehow.

He worried for the King and Queen of Gwynedd, whose blissful married life was to be destroyed on his account. The Dragon had sent him to appease the Tylwyth Teg and Selwyn had only served to offend their Lord even more grievously than Conan had. He didn’t feel he could contest the charges, for in truth he could not say just who had seduced who. Still, had he known she was the object of the Lord of the Night’s affection, he would never have allowed the affair to take place — or so Selwyn would like to have thought.

The trunk of the old tree parted, allowing the light from outside to flood in and blind him momentarily.

‘Selwyn!’

His heart sank at the sound of Tory’s voice. Gwyn ap Nudd had succeeded in taking her prisoner. As his sight returned he came to focus on the Queen of Gwynedd, dressed in a beautiful gown of flowers that had her rooted to the spot.

‘Let me out of this thing!’ she demanded, as she pulled at the train.

Beyond his Queen was a small army of winged beings, amongst the ranks of which he spied Amabel. Gwyn ap Nudd was conversing with Tory in another language, so Selwyn failed to follow a single word that passed between them. His Queen appeared most confused, and kept looking to him for answers. Selwyn wished with all his being that he had some explanation, some comfort, or a means to rescue her from this unjust situation. Gwyn was appearing most pleased with himself as his attention turned to Selwyn.

Be this the woman who means more to thee than any other in thy world?

The way the God had phrased the question served to maximise Selwyn’s humiliation. The tears he’d struggled to contain, feeling he did not deserve such a release, overflowed to trickle down his cheeks. ‘I have failed thee, Majesty.’

‘Nay, there must be some misunderstanding.’ Tory jumped to his defence as she had always done, whereby Gwyn ap Nudd waved his hand and the neckline of the Queen’s dress grew to smother her to silence.

Just answer my question, Bard? Gwyn roared. I know she be the one. I just want to hear thee declare it.

Selwyn glanced quickly from Tory to Amabel, before lowering his sights, unable to look either woman in the face. ‘Aye,’ he conceded stubbornly. ‘This be the woman who means more to me than any other in existence.’

The Lord laughed with satisfaction. ‘Enough,’ he decreed, holding a hand to Tory’s third eye, whereupon she began to fade into a ghost that glowed a bright shade of violet.

‘Hey! Hello! Where did everybody go?’ Tory looked down at herself, and noting the colour change she looked up to the sun. ‘Ultra-violet light,’ she uttered with delight.

The Queen’s enchanted gown of flora allowed its restraint to lapse and she began to wander around aimlessly in search of the assembly, as if they had vanished instead of she.

‘What hast thou done to her?’

The Otherworld hast many subtle levels, druid. Gwyn replied. No need to worry for her safety.

As Tory wandered aimlessly into the woods and out of sight, Selwyn chanced a glance in Amabel’s direction. Her expression was nothing short of crushed in the wake of him professing his undying devotion for the Queen of Gwynedd.

‘Damn thee, Gwyn ap Nudd. I do not care if thou art a God, thou hast no right to toy with the emotions of others in this fashion.’

I did not do the toying, druid, I only exposed it. But I shall avenge thy deception after I see to the travesty that began at Craig-y-Ddinas. Denizens of the Otherworld prepare for battle. Gwyn excited the winged masses to riot, whereupon they cried out their acknowledgment and vanished, Amabel with them. Thy queen will be my victory dance, when I have taught thy kings a lesson in otherworldly relations. Gwyn brought his hands together, whereby the tree trunk enclosed Selwyn in his dark prison once more.

Alone in the silent darkness of the tree, Selwyn’s weeping seemed amplified, and despite his desire to calm and focus himself, the tears just wouldn’t stop. Everyone he’d ever cared about was in peril and he could do naught to aid them. I am a complete and utter failure. He bowed his head, defeated, when the ground suddenly dropped from beneath him and Selwyn found himself sliding at an amazing speed down into the underground.

The druid skidded to a stop in a dimly-lit subterranean cave. The light therein was provided by several large glowing fireflies that danced about Amabel’s glistening form.

My love, art thou alright. She flew to his side, her siren song conveying her deep concern.

‘I am not thy love!’ Selwyn pulled away from her and rose. ‘Why did thee not tell me about thy connection with Gwyn ap Nudd?’

I do not love him, and I have never done anything that would lead him to believe otherwise, I swear it.

‘I have failed in my mission here, betrayed my king and country, and offended the Gods because of thee!’ Selwyn accused, suddenly unburdening his anxieties. ‘I do not know much about thy kind, Amabel, but thou art able to perceive the thoughts of others. Thee must have known I had a greater purpose in Annwn. Why did thee cause me to forget it?’

The only answer Amabel had seemed very selfish in retrospect. She had not expected to fall so deeply in love with her patsy. ‘I shall help thee make amends,’ she proffered in her defence.

‘Thou hast helped enough,’ Selwyn declined coldly, closing his eyes to wish himself elsewhere. I must get back to Craig-y-Ddinas in Abred at once. As the ethers enfolded him, Amabel’s haunting song transformed into a wail of anguish. But Selwyn had shut his heart off to her influence. Thus her cry moved him not.

The mist over Craig-y-Ddinas was heavier than ever and an eerie silence now prevailed. All the sounds of men at labour were mysteriously absent.

The first thought that occurred to Selwyn was that he’d manifested at the wrong location.

‘Hello!’ The druid moved off, taking small, cautious steps. He shuffled along, avoiding obstacles that his feet encountered, when he heard a strange sound, like that of a large bird swooping in to land, heading in his general direction. Selwyn threw himself to the ground as a huge beast passed overhead, stirring up the mist in its wake.

Now the druid beheld the blanket of corpses on which he lay and screamed out his horror as he scrambled over the mass of body parts to a patch of unbloodied ground. As he paused to collect his shattered sensibilities, he began to tremble uncontrollably. ‘The Goddess hast abandoned us,’ he uttered, leaning down to inspect a couple of the corpses more closely. The body closest to him was that of the mason who had been so helpful earlier, and Selwyn was shocked to discover that he’d fallen victim to his own masonry tools.

‘The Tylwyth Teg art deceivers beyond compare,’ the druid decided as he rose and wandered in the direction the beast had been headed. If it wasn’t King Maelgwn, as he suspected, then perhaps the beast would eat him and put an end to his nightmare.

‘Who goes there?’

Selwyn halted upon hearing Maelgwn’s voice and turned to face the direction it had come from. A warm wind swept over him, clearing a path through the mist to the King of Gwynedd and his dragon.

‘Selwyn.’ Maelgwn neared, appearing relieved to see him. ‘Praise be. Thou art alive!’

Selwyn was horrified to see his King waving a sword about. ‘Put the sword away and do not draw it again in this mist. It will kill thee.’ When Maelgwn committed his sword to its scabbard, Selwyn breathed a little easier. Thank God he had found Maelgwn; if anyone could save Tory he could. ‘Hurry.’ He began to hobble back towards the steep incline that led to the vale.

‘Stop.’ Maelgwn pulled the Merlin to a standstill. ‘Tell me thy woes first.’

Selwyn started falling apart again, crying and shaking uncontrollably. ‘How can I tell thee Gwyn ap Nudd hast stolen thy wife, and it wast on my account that he did so.’

Maelgwn’s tune changed considerably and he grabbed Selwyn up by his robes. ‘Gwyn ap Nudd hast Tory? Where?’

Selwyn pointed back into the mist, but bowed his head as he recalled the wandering, ghostly state Tory had occupied when last he’d seen her. ‘I know not any more.’

‘Try harder.’ The King turned him around and urged him to get moving.

Selwyn was in a daze as the mist closed in on them again, but was startled back to his senses when the heavy white shroud took on the blue-white glow of the ethers.

The misty light cleared to reveal a beautiful garden, laden with ripe fruit trees and flowering plant life of every species and colour imaginable. In the midst of this paradise was the vague image of a bed. Its ghostly form glowed violet, as Tory had done, and was the only thing in the vicinity that appeared thus.

There thou art, druid. Gwyn ap Nudd clamped a hand down on Selwyn’s shoulder, appearing in fine spirits as he near startled his victim out of his wits. Time to receive thy punishment. The God forced Selwyn to a chair that was molded into a tree trunk.

The arms of the chair enfolded the Merlin’s body to entrap him in their hold. ‘Nay!’ Selwyn cried, as he tried to wriggle free.

Gwyn ignored the druid’s protest to look into the passage through the mist from which Selwyn had emerged. ‘And who has thee brought with thee?’ he inquired of his prisoner.

‘Maelgwn, King of Gwynedd,’ Selwyn informed as if it were a threat.

The husband? Splendid! The painted warrior slapped his hands together and rubbed them, delighted by the news. All the worse for thee.

As Tory’s ghostly form entered the garden, Gwyn ap Nudd waved to Selwyn and assumed the same transparent form he’d awarded Tory.

It dawned on Selwyn what the God had planned. ‘He be going to seduce Tory before our very eyes,’ he uttered in horror, as he heard Maelgwn approaching.

‘Selwyn!’

‘Here, Majesty,’ cried the young Merlin as he watched Tory observe the bed — obviously rather surprised to find it in the middle of a garden. As she approached to lay upon it, Selwyn yelled. ‘Nay, Majesty, thou dost not want to do that.’ But his warning fell on deaf ears.

‘What art thou babbling about now?’ Maelgwn came to stand over the druid. ‘And how on earth did thee get stuck in that stump?’

‘Gwyn ap Nudd put me here … to witness my punishment.’ He motioned Maelgwn to the glowing violet ghost of his wife, making herself comfortable on the spectral bed in the middle of the garden.

‘Tory?’ The King moved to admire his wife more closely — the amazing gown of flowers she wore was most becoming.

‘She cannot hear us, nor see us.’ Selwyn advised. ‘She dwells on a different level of Annwn to the one we now occupy.’

Maelgwn’s expression had turned stormy by the time he turned back to the Merlin. ‘I want to know the meaning of this … and why thou art accepting the blame?’

‘It would seem I chose the wrong etheric world entity to seduce, Majesty … she wast the intended of Gwyn ap Nudd.’ Selwyn lowered his eyes to deliver the rest of his explanation. ‘As I have no woman for him to vent his revenge on, the Lord of the Night hast taken my king’s woman instead.’

Maelgwn raised his brows, stunned by the nature of the indiscretion. He frowned, annoyed by Gwyn ap Nudd’s random method of retribution, and finally exhaled heavily, resigning himself to just deal with the situation and not waste time on laying blame. ‘Doth Tory know this?’

‘She knows she shall be Gwyn ap Nudd’s compensation for something I did, but —’

‘Shh!’ Maelgwn ushered him to silence, as he saw the ghostly form of a huge warrior approaching his wife. ‘Gwyn ap Nudd?’ he posed.

‘Aye,’ Selwyn confirmed.

Tory sat upright upon sighting the Lord of the Night, greeting him with a huge familiar smile. She rose and embraced the warrior, laughing with him as they spoke.

Selwyn could not see Maelgwn’s face, but his hands had clenched into fists. The King’s one flaw was that he was insanely jealous when it came to his wife. ‘It be not her choice, Majesty. She hast been enchanted.’

‘Rufus!’ Maelgwn turned away from the vexing situation.

With a snarl and great puff of smoke, Rufus stuck his upper body in through the misty porthole between realms.

‘Thee vowed to guide me through the otherworldly realms … can thou take me to my wife?’ Maelgwn asked and stood quietly, nodding as he received information from his affiliate, the King’s frown ever increasing. ‘So, dost that mean yea or nay, Rufus. I am running a little short on time here?’ Maelgwn glanced back to see Gwyn backing Tory onto the bed, and Tory was succumbing to his advances.

Rufus held out one of his talons, underside up, and with a grunt urged the King to stand upon it.

‘What about me?’ Selwyn wriggled in his seat.

Maelgwn bethought his affiliate for some advice, and then relayed the information back to Selwyn. ‘Rufus suggests willing thyself out of that illusionary constraint and coming with us. But if that will prove a problem, I shall send Rufus back for thee.’

Selwyn didn’t even have to push the restraints from his body, for upon accepting the possibility that his bonds were imaginary they simply resumed their true form as armrests for the chair. ‘Wow!’ Selwyn was amazed at the power awarded him by a simple swing of perception.

‘Any time thou art ready, merlin,’ Maelgwn urged from upon the dragon’s claw.

Their view of the garden changed in only two respects during their ride. The light from the sun above turned from blue to violet, at which time Tory, Gwyn ap Nudd, and his bed, took on a solid form.

‘Stay put and keep quiet,’ Maelgwn instructed.

I’ve done and said enough already. Selwyn finished the King’s thought for him, considering that Maelgwn was too polite at times.

Maelgwn cleared his throat as he approached the couple rolling around on the bed.

As Tory glanced over to see Maelgwn, she threw off the man on top of her and got to her knees to hold both men at bay. She looked from one man to the other, confused — on this level of Annwn, Gwyn ap Nudd appeared as Maelgwn’s mirror image. ‘Alright, what gives?’

‘I am thy husband, Tory,’ said Maelgwn. ‘Thou art being deceived by Gwyn ap Nudd.’

‘Really?’ Tory sounded surprised by the claim and looked to the accused. ‘Then everything thee told me about our victory wast a lie?’

‘Victory?’ Maelgwn echoed, with a good serve of sarcasm. ‘Craig-y-Ddinas looks like a cemetery.’

‘Nay, Tory, I have told thee the truth.’ Gwyn ap Nudd appealed. ‘Dost thou not know me?’

She turned back to the God, seeming more inclined to believe his plea.

‘Surely ’tis obvious …’ Maelgwn regained his wife’s attention, ‘that this set-up would not be of my doing?’ He referred to the bed on which she knelt, in the middle of the otherworldly garden.

‘Why?’ Tory appealed to him. ‘’Tis no more outrageous than some of thy past seductions?’ She looked back to Gwyn who nodded in agreement with her.

Maelgwn was opening his mouth to contest this, and realising he could not, expanded on the original question. ‘Then it be not something that I would conceive of in the middle of a crisis.’

‘But thee,’ Tory gazed into Gwyn ap Nudd’s eyes, ‘just told me the crisis had passed.’

‘’Tis true,’ Gwyn insisted, luring her to a kiss.

‘He lies!’ Maelgwn roared.

‘Hold on!’ Tory cried in truce, not prepared to lean either way. ‘There be a simple way to settle this.’ She climbed off the bed and headed towards Maelgwn. ‘Could I trouble thee for a kiss, sir?’

Maelgwn frowned and smiled at the same time wondering what his wife was playing at as she glanced back to catch his replica’s reaction. Gwyn ap Nudd stood back, confident that his victim would not be able to tell the difference between his kiss and that of her true husband. ‘A kiss for thee be no trouble at all.’ Maelgwn swooped Tory backwards to indulge her request to his utmost ability, and he took his time doing it.

Once the King stood her upright again, Tory announced, ‘My true husband!’ She motioned to the man at her side.

Gwyn contested her ruling. ‘Thou art being deceived!’

‘Nay, there be no deception here,’ stated Tory, as she placed her arms around the King’s neck and smiled up at him. ‘Maelgwn would never stand by and watch me kiss another man.’

Maelgwn grinned broadly at her resolve, before looking to their bewildered host. ‘True, I never would.’

Then how dost thou think I feel? Gwyn ap Nudd assumed his own huge form. Thy druid hast seduced my intended!

Tory looked to Selwyn, unable to keep the smile from her face. Selwyn, however, was not amused. Still, the Queen was not given a chance to comment as the vines again sprouted out from the trail of her dress. The strong thick stems extended towards the tree closest to Gwyn ap Nudd and winding themselves around the trunk, they reeled Tory in.

‘Not again!’ The Queen tried to resist their pull, whereupon she fell to the ground and was dragged towards the Lord. ‘When I get out of this thing, I am going to smash every bone in thy body, Gwyn —’ The neckline grew to smother the Queen’s threat.

‘Such an unbecoming tone in a female, dost thou not agree, Dragon?’ Gwyn looked to catch her husband’s reaction.

‘She be capable of much worse,’ Maelgwn warned, but refrained from retaliation. After all, it was only his wife’s pride that would be harmed by her bondage. ‘Selwyn informs me that at the time the alleged offence took place, he was unaware the nymph in question wast thy intended. So this would seem to indicate that thy lady wronged thee wilfully, my Lord.’

I did. Amabel spoke up for herself, enchanting those present with the dazzling beauty of her presence and her voice.

Maelgwn could only gape at her loveliness and uttered aside to his Merlin, ‘I can see thy attraction.’

‘Do not let her beauty fool thee, Majesty.’ Selwyn spoke up so that Amabel might hear him. ‘This nymph thinks only of herself and be damned with everybody else.’

Thou art exactly right. For once Gwyn ap Nudd agreed with the druid.

Amabel approached Gwyn ap Nudd, and fluttering down to a kneeling position, she bowed to the ground at his feet. On the advice of the Goddess, I have come to throw myself upon thy mercy, Lord. If my Lord will amend all the wrong that hast been done to Abred, Amabel raised her enchantress’ eyes to view him, I shall marry thee and honour thee only, as thou doth wish.

Nay, thou dost not love him. But Selwyn dared not voice his protest. His duty to his country began to pale in comparison to his concern for Amabel, and he immediately regretted every harsh word he’d said to her.

Although Gwyn didn’t seem that opposed to Amabel’s proposition, he played hard to get all the same. Wed thee? So thee may pass thy days as my wife, pining for the love of another?

Then confine me, punish me, in whatever way thou dost see fit! But do not blame those from Abred for my defiance … I wast solely to blame. She bowed her head and awaited his judgment.

Do not be a fool, Gwyn. Thou hast been pining after this nymph forever.

The voice of Keridwen penetrated Gwyn’s mind, and he turned to discover the Queen of Gwynedd had been freed from her dress of flowers and now wore the clothes he had found her in. In reality, she had worn this attire throughout this whole episode. Her restraints had been mind-induced. Thou hast unexpected depth of perception, Tory Alexander. He acknowledged her psychic skill.

‘I am onto thy game, Gwyn ap Nudd,’ Tory assured him as she stood, brushing herself off. ‘As thee cannot control the will of other intelligent entities, thou dost seek to break the will of thy opposition by testing it. For it was not the Goddess who aided Selwyn in finding his way into Annwn … so I am guessing it was in fact thee who showed him the way to Amabel.’

All eyes turned to Gwyn, who was unsure as to whether to deny the charge or not. He was certain he’d heard Keridwen’s voice just now and if she was advising the Queen of Gwynedd then she knew the truth already.

‘Thee knew,’ Tory continued, pushing Gwyn to comment, ‘that Selwyn, as a musician, would not be able to resist her siren song. So, thee led him into temptation and by so doing, have managed to get we of Abred right where thou dost want us.’

Amabel rose up into the air to view Gwyn at his level, the look on her face compelling the Lord to confess or deny the charge.

That wast not the way of it, he insisted, so thou art still in shame. He motioned Amabel back to her knees.

Art thou calling me a liar, Night Hunter? Keridwen’s pixie-like features suddenly burst forth on Tory’s face, and the Queen’s form levitated into the air.

The Lord of the Night humbled himself before the Goddess as did all those present.

Enough of the fun and games, Gwyn. Thou hast taught thy human foe their lesson and have thus fulfilled thy duty to me and my folk. By the grace of the elements, I want life restored to all those who perished during thy rampage of torment this night.

Begging thy pardon, great Lady. Gwyn stood tall to advise her. If I restore life to the workmen at Craig-y-Ddinas, the work on the fort will only resume.

The Dragon was just seeing to having the project stopped when he wast called from his duty to save his wife from being defiled! Her tone was cross and the Lord of the Night cowered before her once more. Need I remind thee, that thy duty to test the faithful doth not exist for thy personal gratification. I am watching thee, Gwyn ap Nudd. Misuse thy power again, and it shall be suspended.

I did not start all this, the lord defended. And this will not be the last time I will be forced to such extreme measures.

Form an alliance with the Dragon, Keridwen suggested. Make him thy High King, so that all who ally in my name art answerable to one man, and that one man will answer to thee.

Gwyn looked, for some reason, very much disposed towards the idea, which made Maelgwn uneasy.

To be truly confident about my appointed, naturally he would have to pass our initiation first. Gwyn made the reason for his amusement known.

Naturally, Keridwen granted, and the Lord was appeased. I feel sure the Dragon will be happy to oblige. The Goddess turned her large green-grey eyes to the King.

Even though Maelgwn was a little daunted by the prospect of being tested by the otherworldly God, it was not the first time he had undergone initiation for an appointment. ‘I shall undertake any task put to me, to prove my worth to the Tylwyth Teg and their Lord.’ Maelgwn bowed slightly to Gwyn in acceptance.

Amabel, the Goddess looked to the lovely nymph. Thou art well aware of my thoughts in regard to thy antics. I think it be high time thee committed to a partner for life.

Thank you, Lady, Gwyn spoke up, for ruining the best chance I have had of being that partner. I almost had her.

If thou dost win this nymph’s favour, Keridwen advised him in a lecturing tone, it shall be for thy merits, not for thy skills of deception … no marriage can be a happy one if one soul dost dominate the other. Ask the Dragon, he knows. The Goddess cunningly referred Gwyn to Maelgwn for advice. Perhaps if thee had wooed the waif as she ought to be wooed, thee would have settled this issue a long time ago.

Selwyn didn’t like the fact that the Goddess seemed to be encouraging Amabel towards giving Gwyn another chance. Now that he knew the whole truth of what had happened, the details mattered not. All Selwyn could remember was the intimate closeness that he’d only ever experienced with Amabel, and every fibre of his being craved to know her in such a way again.

Selwyn. Keridwen startled the druid from his thoughts. I would ask thee to supervise the Night Hunter’s initiation of our High King.

That hardly be necessary. Gwyn strongly opposed her implication that he might treat the initiate unfairly.

And thou art to bear this merlin no more illwill, Gwyn, the Goddess instructed, politely. He shall be treated as thy honoured guest, and in return, Selwyn, Keridwen looked to the druid, will conduct himself as such from now on.

Keridwen’s thoughts about his affair with Amabel were made fairly plain by her instruction. If Selwyn nodded to accept her advice, then that was his word to the Goddess that he would forget Amabel. The Merlin bowed. ‘It shall be my honour to assist the Lord of the Night with the initiation of our High King.’

Keridwen’s gaze lingered on Selwyn a moment, aware he was avoiding the issue of the nymph.

From where Selwyn stood, the look the Goddess gave him implied that his surrender to her will was inevitable and that he may as well not fight it.

I wish thee well, Maelgwn Gwynedd. Keridwen looked to her champion among kings. Our new appointment shall suit thee very well.

If he comes up to standard, Gwyn specified.

Maelgwn gave the God a sideways glance before bowing to the Goddess. ‘I shall serve thee to the best of my ability in this, great Lady, as I do in all things.’

Then I shall consider this matter resolved. Tory’s form lowered to the ground, and as her true features returned she blacked out and fell to the ground.

The King and Selwyn both rushed to her aid, but the Queen of Gwynedd was out cold.

I have plans for thee, Dragon, Gwyn advised. Leave thy queen on the bed to recover. Amabel will stay with her.

The King placed Tory comfortably on the bed. ‘Best that thou art dreaming through this,’ he uttered, and taking up her hands to draw upon her strength, he pressed her fingers to his lips.

Gwyn noticed Amabel become all teary-eyed as she observed how the King doted on his Queen. All right, break it up. Gwyn beckoned with a finger for Maelgwn to follow him.

As his King moved off, Selwyn chanced a glance at Amabel, who smiled back at him, teary-eyed. ‘I handled this situation very badly, Amabel. I had no right to judge thee,’ Selwyn said, near choking on the lump of remorse welling in his throat.

Thy judgment wast just, she admitted, making no move to approach him, nor to pursue the conversation further.

Selwyn shook his head. Amabel hovered but a few feet away, but the distance between them felt suddenly vast. What had the Goddess said to her that had caused Amabel to distance herself from him like this? Or had it been his own cutting words that had done it?

Coming, druid? Gwyn yelled back to Selwyn and he was forced to make a move.

‘Forgive me,’ Selwyn implored the nymph as he backed up to take his leave.

There be nothing to forgive, she wholeheartedly assured him. ’Twas my mistake.

Her words drove a stake through his heart, which Selwyn closed his eyes to endure. So that was the tack the Goddess had taken, that their love had been nothing but a sad misunderstanding. Surely the Goddess was right, and at some distant point in time, Selwyn would come to see that. But for the present, the event was still too fresh in his mind, and the only aspect of that memory that he found sad or regretful was that Amabel would never again sing her siren song with him.

8

Elementary

The Lord of the Night led the would-be High King and his Merlin to an extraordinary grove of old oak trees that stood like huge sentinels from the dawn of time. The moon glowed with a violet hue, and as the brightly-coloured terrain emitted its own glow, the night was near as bright as the day in Annwn.

Upon scaling a steep embankment, they came to a ring of oaks that encircled a large clearing of soft moss-like grass.

‘I imagined somewhere far more ominous,’ Maelgwn commented as he followed the Night Hunter into the clearing. ‘So what shall my test be? A quest? An errand?’

’Tis more a trial really … elementary. Gwyn ap Nudd came to stop in the centre of the clearing and conjured a magnificent chalice from the ethers, which he offered to his initiate. I know thou art valorous and diplomatic, Dragon. Thy past deeds are not unknown to me. But I am not interested in the king of legend, the Maelgwn Gwynedd everybody sees at present … I wish to discover the essence of the man known only to thy higher self.

The King removed his weapons and excess clothing and walked over to accept the chalice from his host. ‘Then I have nothing to fear.’

Gwyn ap Nudd smiled, admiring the Dragon’s fortitude. Our test be one of observation, the Lord advised, so just relax and enjoy the ride … I shall be with thee all the way.

‘Just a moment.’ Selwyn stopped the King from drinking the brew, as he wasn’t sure he understood the proceedings. ‘What exactly art thou planning to subject my king to? And what,’ the Druid gazed into the chalice filled with glowing ultra-violet fluid, ‘purpose will this serve?’

The elixir will aid the separation from his physical form, whereby his inner sight will allow thy king to proceed to trial and see his jurors, Gwyn advised, bracing the druid’s shoulders in both his hands and pushing him back to a seat out of the way. His physical body shall keep thee informed of his progress and mental state of health.

‘As he did at inauguration?’ Selwyn clarified.

Just. Gwyn backed up to join Maelgwn as the King downed the glowing brew. So kindly keep quiet and enjoy the show. The Lord raised his brows a couple of times to heighten the druid’s anticipation and then turned to his initiate to suggest, Thou had best sit down.

‘Whoa!’ Maelgwn held his head and staggered back a few paces before finally stumbling to a seat. ‘Everything’s gone white!’ The King dropped the chalice and used both hands to steady himself.

Be still Dragon, Gwyn advised calmly. Thou shalt see soon enough.

‘My sight hast returned!’ Maelgwn announced as he went very still. What Selwyn thought peculiar was that the King’s eyes were closed.

‘I am floating high above myself,’ said Maelgwn.

Selwyn looked up above the King, but saw nothing.

‘Higher,’ Maelgwn advised the Merlin.

Selwyn raised his sights, and gasped upon sighting a floating spectral form, which was not really recognisable as his King. He maintained his vow of silence, however, as the Night Hunter raised his hands into the air to announce:

The north wind blows across the earth
carrying the secrets of past and future.

With the Lord’s words Selwyn felt a stirring movement in the breeze. A glowing green mass of vapours was seen to rise out of the forest floor to the north of the clearing and it began to weave its way towards them through the trees.

‘There are masses of lights rising out of the forest,’ Maelgwn’s physical form stated. ‘Green lights, very bright … they art singing so beautifully,’ the King informed, sounding quite enchanted by what he was hearing.

Selwyn, however, heard no such song nor did he see the green lights. Perhaps the green vapour he observed was some by-product of what the King was seeing?

As the glowing green mass entered the clearing, it rose high above the King and encircled the spectral being that hovered above him.

‘They art little beings! Every one of them,’ Maelgwn enlightened Selwyn, sounding most enchanted. ‘They art taking me somewhere … it be the room of court at Degannwy.’

Selwyn settled in to commit to memory all the information that the King conveyed during his out-of-body episode. Gwyn ap Nudd stood, eyes closed, telepathically following every thought and emotion the King experienced — Selwyn assumed this as the Night Hunter mimicked Maelgwn’s reactions to the letter.

‘I am seeing through a looking glass,’ Maelgwn continued, raising a hand as if holding up the item — as did Gwyn who was standing behind him. ‘I see Taliesin appearing as young as myself. He comforts my queen, and I am angered as I watch them together.’

Why am I not surprised, Selwyn thought to himself, yet he was intrigued by what the King said next.

‘My jealousy sickens me. I am wrong to mistrust her, despite the secret she withholds from me.’ Then, even though Maelgwn’s eyes were still firmly closed, he raised both hands as if to shield his sight from a bright light. ‘Ah!’ he cried, pained briefly. ‘I am somewhere else now, looking down a stream of light. Beneath me I see Tory, lit up like an angel. She cries for me. Nay! I am not ready to leave her.’ Maelgwn’s hands dropped into his lap as he began to weep. ‘Twenty years, ’tis not enough.’

Gwyn ap Nudd waved a hand over Maelgwn’s head whereby the King calmed immediately. The Lord of the Night took longer to recover from the overwhelming emotions the Dragon was experiencing.

The west wind brings the mist,
inspiration of water and light.

Selwyn looked to the west where a great blue mist came crashing down a gully like a huge ocean wave. Upon reaching the ring of oaks the torrid mist fused into a steady stream of swirling light matter that wound itself up and around the blanket of green haze that harboured his King’s soul.

‘Water,’ said Maelgwn. ‘Oceans of water. I am swimming in a beautiful blue ocean. A blue lady swims with me. I am stunned at the ease with which she moves through the water. My love for this woman overwhelms me. How can it be wrong?’ Maelgwn appealed, becoming upset once more.

Selwyn had lost the King now. He had no idea what he was talking about. But he committed each word to memory as was his task; maybe some day it would all make sense.

Again Gwyn ap Nudd quieted his initiate before continuing.

The east wind be of the air,
travelling at the speed of thought.

‘Uh-oh,’ Selwyn uttered as he was seated to the east. The druid threw himself to the ground and barely managed to duck below the golden streak of wind that whipped over him and spun itself around the hovering blue ball of watery mist.

Maelgwn gripped his knees, as if holding on for dear life. ‘I am in some manner of transport being propelled through the heavens at an amazing speed.’ The King seemed to be finding it difficult to squeeze his words out. ‘I cannot explain the feeling … better than sex.’ Maelgwn smiled in conclusion, as did Gwyn ap Nudd. The Lord set the King at ease before calling in the last of the four elemental winds.

The south wind of primordial fire,
blows forth from the dawn of life.

The Lord of the Night pronounced this, and Selwyn looked to the south, considering that this wind sounded more ominous than those that had been summoned before it.

It took the form of a ball of glowing orange fire that came charging out of the forest to collide with the golden whirling body of energy above Maelgwn’s head. The mass exploded into flame.

The King’s physical body rebounded with the impact of the flaming orb on his psyche, and yet he drew a deep and satisfied breath. ‘I behold an amazing city in the middle of a paradise. A bright blue-green planet, the colour of which be beyond my meagre powers of description. I love this place.’ Maelgwn suddenly stiffened. ‘I am travelling away from the planet now, far away.’ The King then relaxed again, his tone becoming very calm. ‘I float among the stars and before me I see a great whirling, spiralling vortex of glowing mist-like matter. I am at one with her now.’ A tear trickled down Maelgwn’s face as he said this. ‘I am at peace.’

This soul hast won our blessing,
let him reign as our High King.

A curse on all who would oppose him,
for the elemental winds have spoken.

As Gwyn decreed this, the flaming ball of energy exploded in a shower of orange sparks, then a shower of gold sparks, blue sparks and finally green. Each wind dispersed in the direction and manner from which it had come. The glowing spectral form of Maelgwn’s soul-mind descended back to earth to join with his physical form, whereby the King collapsed unconscious upon union.

Gwyn looked down upon the human warrior, staggered by his capacity to grasp, accept and deal with a destiny that was far beyond his current comprehension. Our High King be a truly extraordinary individual, druid … although he be totally clueless to the fact. The Lord found this point amusing. I shall keep it that way for now. Only thee and I shall recall thy king’s wee exploration into his future. Gwyn held his palm to the druid’s forehead but Selwyn was quick to step away. I have need to speak with our High King on a certain matter that thee would not care to know about. Gwyn explained his reasons for wanting to place the druid in a dream state.

‘Amabel,’ Selwyn concluded, but the momentary distraction of her image proved fatal. Gwyn reached out and made contact with Selwyn’s forehead.

Sleep, druid.

… how dost one win the heart of someone whose sole purpose in life be to make mischief?

Selwyn woke to the sound of Gwyn ap Nudd’s voice.

‘I know what thou doth mean,’ Maelgwn was heard to reply. ‘Tory be exactly the same. Still, most of her mischief usually proves justified in the end.’

Not the case with Amabel, said Gwyn. There be no end to her torment. Thy druid will not be the last on her long list of broken hearts … someone must make an honest nymph of her.

‘I believe,’ Maelgwn placed a hand on Gwyn’s shoulder to assure him, ‘thou art the man for the mission.’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ Selwyn stood, outraged by the lies the God was feeding his King.

Thou art way out of thy depth, druid. Best get out of the water before thou art drowned, Gwyn suggested.

‘I would gladly drown,’ Selwyn admitted, ‘if it meant Amabel wast not forced to marry someone she doth not love.’

‘Selwyn.’ Maelgwn’s tone urged him to proceed cautiously.

Nay. Gwyn prevented the King from intervening, and calmly looked to Selwyn to enlighten him with a few home truths about the female he was prepared to give his all for. Amabel wast born of the branch of the Tylwyth Teg that art akin to the elementals of the air. Hence, I can assure thee, the nymph in question loves no one. Amabel hast yet to understand love as thou dost understand it. Which be why she hast taken to dwelling near the water lately. She longs to know the depths of emotion. She appears to be emotional, only because she reads thy mind and knows what thou dost want to see … to her, love be a momentary thing, like the twinkle of moonlight on water, or a pretty tune well played.

‘I think thou art the one who hast no idea about Amabel, Lord —’ Selwyn knew different. Why would she have freed him from the tree and tried to help him, if she did not truly care?

Believe what thee will, druid. Only time will teach thee. It be not my place. Gwyn waved off the argument.

‘I want to see her,’ Selwyn demanded.

If Amabel wishes to seek thee out in Abred, she may do so. But right now it be time to fulfil the will of the Goddess. The game be over and I have won, Gwyn looked back to Maelgwn, a new and powerful ally.

Selwyn’s memory went a bit hazy at this point, but when his senses returned to him, he found himself standing atop the rise at Craig-y-Ddinas. The Lord of the Night was at his side, addressing the leaders of allied Briton.

Most of the events of this night will be a blur, for ye will maintain only that knowledge required to carry out the resolve we have reached this day. Except thee, druid. Gwyn ap Nudd turned his attention to Selwyn. Thy memory remains intact, for it be thy penance to remember. Then Gwyn willed that the druid alone hear his final words. Thou shalt be haunted by Amabel for as long as it pleases thee, Selwyn.

As Selwyn bowed his head to accept the Lord’s punishment, he had already made up his mind to find Amabel.

As Gwyn ap Nudd ascended into the air the mist lifted from the construction site exposing the full extent of the bloodbath there. The dawn light began to stream through the departing cloud cover as the Night Hunter unleashed the elemental dominions to resurrect the bodies of the butchered.

Down in the vale, Selwyn observed the leaders of the alliance, confused by their lack of recall of the previous night. The last thing Selwyn wanted was to answer their questions, at least until he’d had time to think the night through himself. He needed to be elsewhere and so willed himself to the first place that came to mind.

The grove was nowhere near as beautiful here in the cold, harsh reality of Abred and for the first time ever, the golden sun above seemed an inferior energy source. The lush, mossy grass was just a patch of dirt and the oak trees themselves seemed miniature in comparison to their etheric world counterparts.

Alone with himself, Selwyn could finally begin to sort out the matted web of emotions that had taken over his heart in the matter of a day. Now he wanted to cry, the tears wouldn’t come, just flashes of Amabel’s tenderness that teased his joy a moment, before paining him to the core.

Put Amabel from thy mind, Selwyn.

It was the voice of Keridwen that disturbed his self torture, and it angered Selwyn that he could not even savour this small fragment of Amabel without a reprimand.

‘Why art thou so opposed to the idea of us?’ he cried out at the top of his lungs, demanding an explanation as he had never done before.

Amabel’s destiny and thine lie in different worlds, Selwyn. Thou shalt find —

‘Please do not speak of me falling in love with another.’ Selwyn began pacing around furiously. ‘In all of Abred there be none to compare with Amabel.’

If thou dost feel so much for this nymph who was merely a lustful whim for thee, just imagine how extraordinary thy true love shall be?

Selwyn didn’t want to accept his disassociation from Amabel as part of his destiny. ‘I refuse to forget her,’ he swore in defiance, collapsing onto the ground to lie on his back and embrace everything he was feeling.

Thou hast a great life ahead of thee, Selwyn … if thee would neglect thy destiny to pine after this waif, that be thy choice. But destiny waits for no man and will move on to a more willing and receptive partner if kept waiting too long.

The druid felt the Goddess depart his company, and the atmosphere within the circle of trees became notably bleaker to his senses. ‘Amabel!’ he yelled as loud as he was able, knowing Gwyn ap Nudd would not allow her to come to him as vowed.

The strum of his harp prevented Selwyn wallowing further into a state of depression. He sat up to find the instrument with its skin laying on the ground alongside it.

‘Amabel?’ Selwyn lowered his voice now, not wanting to scare the nymph off if she was looming about.

A gentle breeze stirred in the wake of the question.

Selwyn rose and walked to the harp. If anything would draw Amabel out, it would be their tune. As there was no suitable seating arrangement within the circle of oaks, Selwyn knelt down beside his instrument and leant it against his shoulder to play. Their tune came to him at once and he played it over and over, solo.

When finally the druid stopped strumming, he returned his harp to its skin. He had never before felt lonely and now his loneliness was all consuming.

Jolly good show, hey what?

Selwyn didn’t recognise the pompous tone of this voice. ‘Who said that?’

Aye, rather good, said a second voice, that was rather old and croaky. He could use a larger repertoire, perhaps?

Selwyn stood to have a better look around the clearing. ‘Will ye not show thyselves?’

We art standing in plain view of thee, informed the pompous voice, with a chuckle.

Selwyn frowned, not in any mood to be toyed with. ‘Art thou very small, then?’

Nay, lad, thundered a third voice, we art very tall.

As the sound of laughter came at the Merlin from all sides, setting him in a spin, the source suddenly dawned on him. ‘The trees,’ he said, falling onto his back in the dirt once more.

The overhanging branches of the huge oaks made it seem as if they were leaning over to see how he fared.

‘So, ’tis true then. Trees do have a consciousness,’ Selwyn mumbled, thinking back to the great Merlin, Myrddin, and his teachings about the wisdom of trees.

Well, if trees have a presence in Annwn, does it not stand to reason that they have souls, too? the pompous-sounding tree put forward.

The druid gave a vague nod, considering that perhaps he’d just found himself a new course of study. A spell in the wilderness would get him away from all those who would wish to question him about his night in Annwn and keep him close to nature should Amabel find an opportunity to seek him out.

The Merlin’s train of thought was broken as he sensed someone looming at close quarters. When Selwyn realised it was the Queen of Gwynedd, he scurried to his feet and bowed his head low. ‘Forgive me, Highness, I did not know it wast thee.’

‘Thou art forgiven,’ she assured him, remaining seated.

How could she be so calm with him after all the trouble he’d caused her? Then it occurred to Selwyn that she didn’t remember, that’s why she was here. ‘I do not want to speak of it,’ he said, ‘not now, or ever. Nor shall I write of it …’

I allowed the PME orb to drop into my lap, but I remained as I was a moment — seated still, eyes closed in deep repose.

‘Are you alright, Noah?’ Tory inquired.

I parted my eyelids to view her and smiled triumphant, even though that was not how I felt.

‘You remembered?’ Tory questioned with much excitement, and I nodded. ‘All of it?’ she ventured, having wondered about the night in question for eighty years.

I shrugged and nodded again. ‘I believe so … pretty much, anyway.’

‘May I?’

Tory referred to the orb, and I was almost of the mind to allow her to view the experience, until I remembered Maelgwn speaking about a blue lady he would one day hold strong feelings for. ‘I would like to run through it again myself first.’ I snatched up the orb and placed it in my bag. ‘I’ll get a completed copy to you asap, I promise.’

Tory looked a little wary about my reluctance to hand over the thought-recorder, but Taliesin spoke up to prevent her questioning me further.

So, let me ask you, Noah. In retrospect, who would you say was right about the true nature of Amabel? Gwyn ap Nudd or Selwyn?

I found Taliesin’s question a perplexing one and as I honestly couldn’t discern the answer, I went with what I wanted to believe. ‘Selwyn.’

Then answer me this. Why would Gwyn ap Nudd have lied to Maelgwn about the true nature of Amabel, when the king’s memory of that conversation was soon after completely erased?

It was a very good question that there was only one answer for. ‘He sought Maelgwn’s honest advice … Gwyn ap Nudd was telling the truth about her!’ I was infuriated as I suddenly realised Selwyn had spent ten years searching for a nymph to whom he meant little, if anything at all.

Taliesin appeared sorry to have to confirm my horror. I too fell victim to her siren song once, and would have gladly given up my life’s work to stay with her in Annwn.

‘I knew you remembered more of your siren lover than you let on,’ Tory cut in, intrigued to be back in a conversation that she and Taliesin had started in the Dark Ages. ‘What saved you from her?’

Not what, but who, Taliesin replied. Gwyn ap Nudd got me out.

My heart jumped into my throat as he said this, although I felt it was more Selwyn’s shock I was experiencing than my own. ‘Just as he got me out,’ I mumbled, hardly realising that I had. ‘Still, he did lead me to her in the first place.’

You can lead a horse to water, Noah, but you can’t make it drink, advised the ascended Master. We were a couple of the lucky ones. Other men have disappeared into Annwn following the siren song, and never been seen again.

‘So, it was all just a test,’ I decided. ‘A test of resolve, a test of character.’

As are all of life’s hardships and disappointments. Elementary, my good man, Taliesin concluded. So, that would be all of your questions answered in regard to this matter, yes?

Upon brief contemplation, I was now satisfied with the material I had for my chronicle. ‘Thank you, High Merlin, for making it all clear. I feel Selwyn is most grateful.’

Taliesin waved off the thanks. Selwyn made good of his life in any event. It pleases me that the truth was finally brought to light. The Kings of allied Briton outshone themselves the night Gwyn ap Nudd’s mist besieged Gwent Is Coed and Dyfed. The event has been too long absent from the pages of history. Let it now be told for all the children of the Chosen to learn from.

‘I shall see to it, personally.’ I smiled, feeling that I had been lightened of a great load.

A few days ago I hadn’t even realised the amount of emotional baggage I carted around with me, and only God knew how much more suppressed rubbish I still had squashed away in the dark recesses of my psyche. But for the moment, gravity seemed to be working with me and I was happy to have all the information I needed for the first of my three new chronicles. Life was good.

PART 2

A Tale from the Space Age

Character List

CHAILIDA — KILA

Author of the Chronicles

Noah Purcell

Governor

Maelgwn Gwynedd

Governess

Tory Alexander

THE ATEN

City Ruler

Marduk

Dragon Commander

Maelgwn Gwynedd

Technical Officer

Cadwallon

Co-pilot/Navigator

Cadwell

Pilot

Robin

Dragon Squad 2IC

Candace

Communications

Boadicea

Munitions

Talynn

ET Communications

Vanora

Tracking Systems Analyst

Rebecca

Seer

Sybil

Personal Assistant to Marduk

Dylan

Scribe to Marduk

Seshut

THE MAZUA — LURA

City Ruler

Gibal

Personal Assistant to Gibal

Cornelin

Personal Assistant to Cornelin

Uriah

Lab Assistant to Gibal

Aquilla

Head of Security

Zerrah

Male Leonine official

Barnabus

Female Leonine official

Serena

ELIMA — LAARSA

City Ruler

Inanna

Inanna’s Brother

Shamesh

9

Close Encounters

A couple of days after my trek back into the Dark Age, I was still procrastinating over how much of Selwyn’s otherworldly experience I should make our Governess privy to. Tory would be wondering, by now, where the copy of the thought-recording I promised her was.

I had sent a couple of urgent messages to the Governor, asking him to contact me as soon as possible. Tory may have already been aware of Maelgwn’s ‘blue lady’. I had no way of knowing if she was in our Governor’s past or future at this point in time. I could never imagine the Dragon seeking the love of any woman but his wife, but I thought I should discuss the matter with him before it went any further.

It had occurred to me to just erase this piece of information from the chronicle, but it would leave a very obvious void in the tale, something Tory would pick up on at once.

Hence, I was stuck in this very sticky situation of having to avoid our Governess until Maelgwn made contact. And, as feared, our Governess was not to be eluded easily.

Tory attended my modern history lecture, which that afternoon was on the topic of the founding of our great city. The Governess’ presence was of such delight and intrigue to my students that the lesson wound up being a forum on the Dark Ages — for that was, without doubt, the most popular period of history with all who studied at the Purcell Institute.

‘Thanks for taking my class this afternoon,’ I joked with Tory, once the students had been dismissed.

She sighed, waving to the last of the pupils who was on his way out the door. ‘I enjoy going back to the Dark Ages also.’

Was that a hint? ‘I suppose you’re here for the chronicle I promised.’ I tried to act casual and stalled by moving to get my bag.

‘If it’s ready,’ Tory hinted, as if this wasn’t the real reason she’d come to see me, but that as she was here she may as well pick up the orb.

‘Well, actually.’ I grabbed the opportunity to make an excuse. ‘I have to apologise for my tardiness, but I haven’t had the chance to get to it yet.’ The look of disappointment on her face urged me to offer. ‘But if you’d like to accompany me back to my chambers here, I could do it for you now … it won’t take long.’

‘Would you?’ she accepted, with a smile.

‘Of course,’ I conceded, considering I would give her the edited version of the tale, and worry about how I was going to avoid Tory’s inquiries into the omitted data later.

Whilst my undergraduate distracted the Governess with tea in my main chamber, I did my best to edit the recording. I rearranged a little bit of data so that the omission was not as obvious as it might have otherwise been. At least I had something to give Tory; if I appeared too elusive about what I had learned, I would only draw attention to that which I endeavoured to keep secret.

As I returned to my main chamber bearing the orb, my novice quietly left us. ‘And there you have it.’ I handed it over to the recipient.

Tory accepted the orb as if it were a jewel. ‘Thanks for this, Noah. You can’t know what it means to finally discover what drove Selwyn away for so long … although I had guessed the cause had most likely been female.’

‘So sorry to disturb, En Noah.’ My novice re-entered the room looking somewhat overawed. ‘It’s the Governor,’ he explained simply, moving aside so that our head of state could enter.

‘Maelgwn!’ Tory cried with glee, assuming her husband was here seeking her.

‘Tory!’ The Governor sounded a little stunned, but he was quick to hide the reaction. ‘Here you are,’ he added, chancing a quick glance in my direction.

He was here to see me, I realised.

‘What a delightfully unexpected surprise.’ Tory placed the orb into the pocket of her trousers and hurried to greet her husband.

Despite his motives for returning from his public relations tour, Maelgwn was glad to see Tory. I stood idly by as they whispered their fond hellos, amid kisses and hugs.

‘How long are you here?’ Tory took a step away from Maelgwn, having contained her excitement for the moment.

‘Only a day or so,’ Maelgwn informed her regretfully.

But Tory grinned all the same. ‘But you must have traveled days to get here? What could have inspired you to come so far off the beaten track, as it were?’

‘I got homesick,’ he explained in all honesty, and as Maelgwn kissed his wife again, I thought about moving into another room and leaving them alone for a bit.

‘Ah Noah,’ the Governor called me back. ‘Could you spare me a moment of your time?’

‘Surely,’ I replied, pausing from my retreat as Maelgwn looked back at Tory to explain.

‘I shall meet you back at the house. I have a few things to discuss with Noah, and seeing as I’m here …’ He shrugged.

Tory took a few steps back, looking from Maelgwn to me and back again. She knew we were hiding something, although she chose not to verbally air her suspicions. ‘Well then, I guess I should get on.’ The Governess immediately made for the door and departed. Her aloof manner said it all really.

‘I am sorry, Governor, to cause you grief over these chronicles. They’ve never caused this kind of trouble before.’

Maelgwn removed his coat and was seated on the lounge. ‘Whatever grief your chronicles cause, En Noah, I feel quite sure you are not responsible.’ From his coat pocket, Maelgwn pulled the orb I sent him and placed it on my coffee table. ‘There is a bit of controversy that comes with this … one of those things I’ve been meaning to tell Tory about for ages.’

‘You refer to a blue lady?’ I aided his confession.

‘Aquilla,’ the Governor named her. ‘How do you know of her? Did Rebecca tell you?’

‘My wife knows about her?’ I was surprised by his query, but it did seem to confirm that the blue woman was in Maelgwn’s past.

‘Then, how could you know?’

As Maelgwn seemed a little anxious, I told him of my own recent delving into the past. I spoke of his inauguration to High King of Britain, which he knew nothing about and of the trip into his future that Gwyn ap Nudd had taken him on.

‘That was when your blue lady cropped up. “I am swimming in a beautiful blue ocean,” you said. “A blue lady swims with me, and I am stunned at the ease with which she moves through the water. My love for this woman overwhelms me, how can it be wrong?”’

Maelgwn closed his eyes as if enduring the meaning behind those words, then looked to me, a little worried. ‘Is that what was on the thought recorder Tory slipped into her pocket as I entered?’

I shook my head; the Dragon never missed a thing. ‘I cut that part. Everything else that happened that night worked very much to your favour,’ I assured, realising what I had implied. ‘Not that I am saying that your relationship with this woman was in any way —’

‘It’s alright, Noah.’ Maelgwn waved at me to calm down. ‘I knew what you meant, and I thank you for your discretion. May I view the chronicle in question?’

‘Yes, of course.’ I fetched my orb for him, and sat quietly by for half an hour as the Governor viewed the highlights of the night that had long since been snatched from his memory.

When the orb shut down Maelgwn was quiet for a time, before looking to me. ‘I am sorry for your pains.’

‘Ah …’ I shrugged it off. ‘I have since discovered Gwyn ap Nudd was right about Amabel and so all is right with the world. My world anyway —’ I clarified, without thinking. ‘Not that I am saying —’

‘Noah, please!’ Maelgwn prevented me ramming my foot any further into my mouth.

My admiration for this man never failed to reduce me — author, lecturer, historian — into a blubbering idiot. But then, having been in Selwyn’s skin for a while, I realised this was karmic behaviour. The Dragon had always had this effect on me, as did his wife most of the time.

‘So, how would you like me to proceed?’ I attempted to sound semi-professional.

Maelgwn appeared unsure himself. ‘I’d like you to view the information I stored for your chronicle, and give me your opinion on how much of it is appropriate for the record.’

I must say I nearly fell over backwards. The Dragon was asking me for advice! ‘If that is what you wish. Would you like me to do it tonight?’

Maelgwn nodded. ‘I’ll come see you tomorrow before I depart.’ He arose, sounding very resolute about the plan. ‘I had Brian do a little past-life regression work to fill in a few blank spots in my story, and the Lord Marduk even made a contribution, so I think it is fairly well complete now.’

Brian was Tory Alexander’s brother, who accompanied Maelgwn almost everywhere he went these days as his chief advisor.

‘Was she a Delphinus, your blue lady?’ I had to ask.

The Homo Delphinus was a human tribe evolved from a Nefilim-dolphin gene pool mix, as Homo sapiens had evolved from apes.

‘She was,’ said Maelgwn astutely.

‘You didn’t —’

‘It’s all on the orb, Purcell, just view it and make a ruling. Remember this all took place before we had written agreements with the Nefilim to honour. Until tomorrow.’ Maelgwn bid farewell and vanished from my midst.

The thing was that sexual interaction with the other human breeds was forbidden to the Chosen, for we alone had achieved immortality and the Nefilim wanted to keep it that way.

‘This could be a lot more controversial than I thought.’ I reached for the orb, thinking it was fortunate that my wife was away at present, as she would surely be getting annoyed with all the late nights I’d been putting in on my chronicles recently.

As part of the environmental task force known as KEPA (Kila Environmental Protection Agency), Rebecca was off on assignment elsewhere on the planet a good deal of the time. She heads the Animal Defensive and her task force guards our native wildlife population against poachers. As Kila becomes better known throughout the star systems, poachers belonging to the other human breeds are forever landing and hunting illegally here. Thus, Rebecca’s job is increasingly difficult and keeps her away from Chailida for longer and longer periods of time.

Although her long absences are conducive to my work, I would gladly fall behind in my literary endeavours for a little more time in her company. Still, with any luck I would get to glimpse my wife in the tale I would view this evening.

The Dragon’s thought recordings were always intense, for he didn’t fear re-experiencing the emotions of any given event. I usually had lots of fiddling with the differing sensory perceptions of his memories before they were suitable for my students to view. Still, the pre-medieval King’s recollections were the ones most sought after by the pupils. Perhaps this was because Maelgwn’s accounts were so brutally honest and passionate, much like the Dragon himself.

I had a good bottle of port at the ready when I sat down with Maelgwn’s orb that evening.

I found myself reminiscing on my twentieth century youth back on Gaia — for it felt rather like I had just hired an excellent video that I’d been dying to see. I was off to join a rebel band of star warriors and discover a forbidden love, not to mention defeat a few bad guys. Maelgwn’s recollections never differed in that regard either.

After a glass or two of port, I’d had enough of winding myself up. I settled back in my chair preparing to be catapulted into deep space as I activated the orb to transmit.

At first there was no visual, only audio. Women speaking in different tongues could be heard, and in his mind Maelgwn translated the foreign dialects, understanding them perfectly; these voices belonged to women he’d known in the past.

‘Shar Turan is very handsome, don’t you think?’

‘You just see his son in him, Sibyl. And the name of his Chosen incarnation is Maelgwn of Gwynedd.’

Ione? Maelgwn recognised this voice distinctly and wanted to stir from his coma, but his body was just so heavy.

‘Leave him rest,’ said a third woman.

‘Katren?’ Maelgwn managed to mumble aloud.

‘He must have recognised your voice, Candace. Maybe he is coming around?’

‘I wouldn’t think so. Why don’t you two go check on his grandson and great-great-grandson … see how they’re doing?’

My grandson! My great-great-grandson! Maelgwn overcame his lethargy to stir himself.

‘It’s alright. Easy now.’

‘Katren?’ As Maelgwn parted his eyelids to a squint and strained to focus, the visual transmission of the orb commenced.

‘Yes, Maelgwn, it is I, although my chosen incarnation is known as Candace. I am here to help you emerge from your recuperation, so let’s take it slow and easy.’

‘Alright,’ he mumbled as she came into focus. But when he attempted to sit up, all his nerves went to jelly and he started to tremble. ‘What’s wrong with me?’

‘Nothing that won’t fix itself in a couple of minutes. Your body is in shock, that’s all. Lie still a moment, and let it adjust to its new environment.’

‘New environment?’ Maelgwn had no choice but to recline. It set his head spinning to try and resist. What has happened? Where am I?

He closed his eyes to search for his last recollection; it was of Tory. She was bathed in a bright light which lit up her eyes that were the most beautiful shade of violet. Maelgwn thought this rather odd as his wife’s eyes were green, and yet the memory was very distinct.

‘We shall meet again,’ he’d said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

‘I know it,’ Tory had assured him, stealing one last fleeting kiss.

‘Nay!’ Maelgwn was outraged when he realised what had happened.

The Gods had come for him on his deathbed as foretold, and Tory was as distanced from him as she would have been if his body had been fed to the flame.

‘I am not ready to leave her,’ he cried in anguish. ‘Twenty years, ’tis not enough.’

‘Right.’ Candace injected Maelgwn before he even knew what had happened.

‘What was that?’ The aftershock of the injection snatched Maelgwn from his grieving.

‘Just a little something for your nerves,’ Candace explained with a smile. ‘You’ll feel its effect any second now.’

As every muscle in Maelgwn’s body suddenly relaxed, he sank into the bed feeling calm and at peace. ‘Wow, instant bliss,’ he mumbled.

‘Now that you’re more at ease, allow me to introduce everyone. I am Candace of Shamar.’ Candace then motioned to the woman Maelgwn recognised as Ione. ‘This is Boadicea of the Iceni.’

Now that was a name Maelgwn recognised. ‘The great warrioress who rebelled against Rome by burning Londinium and St Albans?’

Boadicea winked to confirm this.

‘And this is Sibyl.’ Candace moved on, motioning to a beautiful young woman with eyes of amber that matched her long light-brown locks, which were tinged with the same flaming colour. ‘She is from Chailidocean and was a seer of the Highest Order there.’

In the age Maelgwn had just been snatched from, this young woman had taken the fancy of his son, Rhun. She was Bridgit, daughter of Vortipor the Protector of Dyfed.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you at last … I have seen great things around you,’ she told him.

Maelgwn noted that this woman used telepathy to communicate as the Gods did.

‘I have had the pleasure of meeting your —’

Candace nudged Sibyl to prevent her from disclosing her association with Maelgwn’s wife, as they were supposed to be trying to get his mind off his recent loss. ‘We are all members of your squadron. There are ten of us in all, including yourself, most of whom you will recognise. We have been selected from every clan that ever inhabited the four corners of the planet we once called home, from the beginning of humankind’s cultured history there to the time of the great Gathering. For we, like you, are the Chosen Ones. All descended of the one God, the Lord Marduk.’

Maelgwn boggled at her words. Finally, some decent answers regarding the true meaning of what it was to be one of the Chosen, for Taliesin had always been rather vague when it came to the subject. ‘How many do the Chosen number in all?’

‘Thousands,’ she informed frankly. ‘And our number will double come the time of the Gathering.’

‘When I shall be reunited with Tory once more,’ Maelgwn concluded, falling into a deep melancholy.

‘Nice going, Candace,’ Boadicea jeered her.

‘Well, I thought I was avoiding the subject.’ Candace shrugged.

‘Hey, Dragon,’ Boadicea whistled to gain his attention. ‘Don’t be down about it. We are all in the same boat. Let me ask you something —’

‘No, Bo,’ Sibyl urged, knowing Boadicea could be a bit blunt and callous.

‘Chill, sister.’ The warrioress assured Sibyl that she had everything under control before returning her focus to the patient. ‘Besides Tory Alexander —’

The other two women groaned when Boadicea mentioned his wife’s name straight off.

‘Oh, come on, he’s a big boy,’ she justified. ‘He can handle it!’

‘I am fine.’ Maelgwn cut in, wishing his hosts had sent one female instead of three to sort him out. ‘Besides Tory …?’ he prompted Boadicea to ask her question.

‘What is the next most enjoyable thing in life for you?’

‘Um …’ Maelgwn frowned, groggy from his sedation. ‘Exploration,’ he raised both brows to suppose, ‘and study.’

‘Well, then … welcome to paradise,’ Boadicea announced with glee, turning to Candace to instruct. ‘Hit him with an upper.’

Candace was hesitant to comply. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to mix his medications like that.’

‘Rubbish. We need to get him mobile.’ The warrioress picked up a tiny cylindrical object, which was the same manner of device as Candace had used to administer Maelgwn’s sedative. ‘Besides, the Dragon is immortal now, so it’s hardly going to cause him any permanent damage.’

As soon as Boadicea shot him with the second injection Maelgwn sat upright. His body tingled all over, as if every little molecule was suddenly bursting with energy, and yet he maintained the comforting warm fuzzy feeling the first injection had induced. Maelgwn couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good. ‘I’m immortal now?’ He smiled gleefully.

‘Well, how do you think you understand us all, when we are of different tribes, languages and periods of history?’ Candace posed. ‘Or explain the complete remission of the disease that plagued your body? Or the disappearance of your battle scars?’

Maelgwn whipped off his shirt and looked down over his body to find that, not only had the scars gone, but his physique had resumed the warrior form of his prime.

Boadicea held up a mirror in front of Maelgwn and he observed the Prince who had wed Tory Alexander. ‘I am young again,’ he uttered, pleased and stunned by the fact.

‘And looking good.’ Boadicea raised both brows as she eyed over the muscles of his upper body.

Maelgwn pulled his shirt back on, a little disconcerted by Boadicea’s comment. ‘Why are my telepathic communication skills already functioning. That kind of ability needs to be mastered, does it not?’

Candace cocked an eye — this man was on the ball. ‘Here on the Aten we have the genetic know-how to activate that function in your brain. You have also had massive amounts of other data fed into your mind as you slept, which will present itself as required. This saves wasting time and resources on training … everything you’ll ever need to know about survival in space has already been committed to your memory.’

‘Space?’ Maelgwn rose to look for a window, but could not locate one. Then it occurred to him that everything here was psychokinetically operated. With this knowledge he willed the shields of a large, circular feature in the wall to part and expose the cosmos beyond. ‘I’m in space,’ he muttered, wandering to the porthole to gaze out on the distant sun — very distant, in fact. ‘Where are we going?’

All three woman shrugged.

‘We’re fleeing!’ Candace advised. ‘What else can outlaws do?’

‘Outlaws!’ Maelgwn didn’t like the sound of that at all.

‘Perhaps, um, rebels is a better description,’ Boadicea posed.

The one door to the small, sterile-looking recovery room vanished, and in walked Vortipor of Dyfed, Prince Bryce and Lady Alma.

Maelgwn had seen Alma perish in the recent demolition of his stronghold at Aberffraw. It was amazing to see her striding around, living and breathing. Like the other three women present, she was dressed in some manner of tight body-hugging armour. It had a dull shine, like tarnished metal, but it was completely black. All-terrain, living, organic fibre suits, his memory informed. More so than the other women, Alma sported all manner of devices that were strapped to a belt slung around her waist.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t stop him.’ Alma motioned to Vortipor. ‘When he heard the Dragon was here,’ she shrugged in conclusion.

‘Vortipor?’ Maelgwn held back his emotion, overwhelmed with joy to see his old friend and colleague.

The young man shook his head. ‘Vortipor was my grandfather, as you were my grandfather. I am Cadwell, son of Rhun, born the year after your disappearance. And yet, I learn, we have arrived at our destination at the same time!’ Cadwell approached to shake his grandfather’s hand. ‘Taliesin told me we would meet one day, but I did scarce believe him. I know thy legend backward, forward and sideways, Grandfather. It is an honour and a privilege to make your acquaintance.’

These words of admiration pouring out of this young replica of Vortipor just seemed too strange. Maelgwn didn’t know how to react. ‘The pleasure is all mine, Cadwell.’ He embraced his grandson — which might not have been his first reaction had he not been so high.

Cadwell returned the sentiment, slapping Maelgwn’s back a few times in the process. ‘I cannot believe I shall finally get to fight alongside the Dragon!’

‘I was kind of hoping that fighting might be a thing of the past,’ Maelgwn commented, whereby the four women present shied from his forlorn hope by coughing, whistling, or averting their eyes.

‘You always were too optimistic, they say.’ Cadwell turned to introduce his grandson. ‘You might mistake this fellow for Prince Bryce. I did … but he is in fact, my grandson, Cadwallon.’

Cadwallon stepped forward and bowed to Maelgwn as his Masters once had. ‘I remember much of the life I spent in your service, Dragon, thanks to Taliesin. I have greatly looked forward to our reunion, although, like Cadwell, I never truly imagined it would happen.’

Maelgwn took Cadwallon in a headlock and ruffled his hair, an action of endearment that Prince Bryce was subjected to for most of his life. ‘That makes three of us.’

‘Four,’ said Candace.

‘Five,’ Boadicea added.

Six, Sibyl kept the round going.

‘Seven!’ Talynn cheered in conclusion, as all present gave a mighty yahoo!

‘So, who are the other three members of our force?’ Maelgwn questioned, and the ladies all smiled in response.

‘They are still recovering,’ Boadicea informed. ‘For they were picked up from later periods in history than ourselves.’

‘But who are they?’ Maelgwn stressed the question, so that it could not be avoided a second time.

‘Why don’t we concentrate on getting you lot settled in first,’ Candace advised. ‘Our missing team members shall join us presently.’

Candace took Maelgwn and his kin on a sightseeing tour of the Aten, to get them familiar with their surroundings. The memory implants would aid the recruits to settle in, but it usually took a little time to process all the information.

The first stop was the suiting station. It was time to rid the lads from Gwynedd of their outdated attire and suit them up for the space age.

This room was more futuristic in appearance than anything Taliesin had ever exposed the once-Kings to. Full suits the like of the ones the females wore were suspended in individual allotments around the large circular quarters. A central domed area in the ceiling shed a subtle mauve light over a large round lounge, which gave the room a very calm and inviting atmosphere.

‘Suit up, fellows.’ Candace stayed in the corridor as the men entered the suiting room. ‘I’ll be back presently,’ she informed them, whereby the door reappeared and sealed the new recruits inside.

‘Hey, check this out.’ Cadwell called for the attention of his team-mates as he pulled a dagger from a scabbard at his waist.

As his grandson raised the dagger to the body of his new attire, Maelgwn thought he should discourage whatever it was he had in mind. ‘Not advisable —’

Cadwell slashed all the way through the spacesuit, whereby it instantly repaired itself. ‘Immortal suits!’ he concluded with a chuckle.

Maelgwn had to enjoy Cadwell’s sick sense of humour. He truly was Vortipor incarnate.

The thick, smooth living-organic fibre moulded itself to fit the body of the wearer, so one size fitted all. It hugged and moved with the body like an additional layer of skin. This amazingly durable material allowed the body to breathe whilst keeping it just warm enough, and adjusted to be comfortable in any environment.

‘The mark of Marduk.’ Cadwallon pointed to the left-hand shoulder of the suit he now wore where there was a golden motif of a serpent sliding over a large circle, inside which was a large eye.

‘Cool. Did I get one?’ Cadwell looked his suit over and was most gratified when he found that all the suits had them.

There were all manner of strange devices stored in the lockers, along with a belt to clamp them on. There was also a set of metallic bands and a handheld weapon that rested in a thigh holster. These items were all attached to the back wall of the lockers, seemingly by nothing, and yet all three men failed to be able to retrieve any of them.

‘I thought we knew everything we needed to know,’ Cadwell grumbled, ‘so why do I not know how to retrieve this stuff?’

‘You’re asking the wrong question,’ said Cadwallon, who’d given up toying with the weaponry upon his first failed attempt to retrieve it. ‘The question is not how, but when? It’s all magnetically sealed to the wall and only released —’

‘Under mission conditions.’ Cadwell ended the sentence for Cadwallon, having recalled the information himself.

Maelgwn pulled on his shin-high boots, crafted from the same strange black metal as most of their transport. This substance was known as charichalum.

Charichalum was stronger and more abundant than the orichalchum once mined and used by the ancient Atlanteans of Gaia. The lightweight, black metal was mined by the Nefilim on one of the outermost planets of the Sirius system, known as Numun, meaning ‘dark land’.

Maelgwn was surprised to find the footwear was basically weightless. He jumped up to standing position, and began pacing around. The boots were lined and padded with the same self-perpetuating, conforming fibre as his suit, and Maelgwn wallowed in the comfort. ‘These are, without doubt, the best set of boots I’ve ever had.’ The warrior jumped up and down, squatted, then stood up again. ‘Fantastic,’ he concluded, well pleased.

The entry door vanished to reveal Candace, waiting to escort the men on the rest of their tour. ‘Now that’s more like it.’ She admired the three handsome males a moment, then, with a flick of her head, encouraged them to follow her.

‘Shall we go, girls.’ Cadwell fastened his second boot and stood to motion his kinsmen out the door ahead of him. ‘No dawdlers, please.’ He ushered them along.

‘He really loves the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?’ Maelgwn muttered in an aside to Cadwallon, who raised both brows and gave a slight nod.

‘Not as much as he enjoys the glimmer of his own limelight,’ he advised.

‘What do you mean?’ Cadwell defended, placing one arm over Maelgwn’s shoulder and the other over Cadwallon’s. ‘Can I help being born so wonderfully perfect?’

‘Unbelievable.’ Maelgwn placed a hand on his grandson’s face and shoved him backwards. ‘And I thought his father was conceited.’

Cadwallon was amused by the comment and pleased that he and the legendary Dragon were getting along so well. ‘My father, Cadfan, was just the opposite,’ he informed.

‘You must tell me about him.’ Maelgwn expressed his deep interest in learning more about the generations that proceeded him.

‘My boy was a witch, not a warrior … had a thing for flowers and herbs.’ Cadwell screwed up his nose, disgusted.

His view was much to Cadwallon’s annoyance. ‘My father cured the sick and raised the dead, which is far more than you —’

‘Truce, lads,’ Maelgwn cut in between the two men to prevent an incident. ‘We’ve all got a load of drugs running rampant through our bodies at present, so let’s not lose our heads.’

‘Hah! Just kidding,’ resolved Cadwell. ‘Of course Cadfan was a great and righteous King. He took after his father.’ He smiled in conclusion, whereby Maelgwn and Cadwallon rolled their eyes and moved to catch Candace up.

The wide, arched corridor of the maintenance level of the Aten was moulded from charichalum. There were long, clear insets along the walls, ceiling and floor that allowed a subtle light to illuminate the infrastructure.

Candace came to a stop on a large, glowing section of floor off to one side of the walkway, and the men followed her onto it. ‘Main observation bridge level,’ she requested, and in a flash of light they were there.

Aten meant ‘imperishable star’, according to the data Maelgwn had stored in his head. And, as its mass would cover one-third of the earth’s moon, he considered this a fairly apt name for the vessel. From one of the observation walkways that connected the eight outer modules to the inner parent module of their transport, it was easy to get a good idea of what the exterior of the huge space-going city looked like.

The Aten was crafted from charichalum, which had such a gloss to it that, with the reflection of all the interior lights, the vessel appeared more a blue-grey colour than black.

Through the long transparent sections in the domed ceiling of the observation bridge, Maelgwn and company were awarded a magnificent view of the Aten’s huge central structure; it was the biggest and most complex construction Maelgwn had ever seen.

‘Great mother,’ uttered Cadwell as he eyeballed the massive dwelling. ‘It is bigger than the highest mountain in the Snowdon.’

‘Indeed,’ agreed Cadwallon. ‘Thank the Goddess we don’t have to climb it.’

All three men found this comment amusing, having all had cause to trek the Snowdon range at some time in their past lives.

On either side of the observation bridge they occupied were other separate observation thoroughfares that extended out to long, egg-shaped modules, all much the same as the one they’d just exited. All eight of the outer modules were spaced forty-five degrees apart from each other around the central structure.

Maelgwn imagined that from above, the Aten would appear like an enormous, perfectly-rounded metal spider. He noted how much busier the other walkways appeared. ‘Why is our module so deserted?’ He put the question to Candace.

‘This section of the Aten is reserved for the new recruits,’ she explained. ‘Once you are comfortable with everything here, then you shall be admitted into the mainstream society of the Aten.’

‘There appear to be some pretty extraordinary looking people over there.’ Cadwell sounded kind of concerned about it.

‘The other human breeds?’ Cadwallon strained his eyes to get a better look at some of them, but the thoroughfares were just a little too distant to get a good look at the exotic locals.

‘All in good time.’ Candace placed a hand on Cadwallon’s shoulder to reassure him. ‘That’s the other reason we keep the new recruits separate … quarantine. For although disease and bacteria cannot harm any of the Chosen, the other human tribes are not immortal and therefore susceptible.’

As they began their stroll back towards their module, Maelgwn got curious about Candace. ‘So, how long have you been here?’

‘I was part of the ninth wave of Chosen Ones, recruited from the last Taurean Age on Gaia, which encompassed the years four thousand to two thousand BC. Gaia time,’ she explained. ‘You have all arrived with the twelfth and final wave of Chosen Ones to be collected, being from the Piscean Age of sixty BC to two thousand AD.’

‘Holy moley.’ Cadwell was astounded by her words. ‘You’re ancient then? No offence.’

‘Oh, I am not the oldest in our team.’ Candace smiled. ‘Sibyl was recruited from the fifth wave of Chosen Ones collected from the Virgoean age, twelve thousand to ten thousand BC. Talynn is the second oldest. She arrived here from ancient Gaul as part of the eighth wave — the Geminian Age, six thousand to four thousand BC.’

‘So how long have you been in space?’ Maelgwn wondered how time was measured here, as no information on the subject presented itself from his memory banks. After all, there was no day and night in space, no seasons to define the year.

Candace only laughed at the question. ‘Wait until you’ve been immortal for awhile … time has no meaning for me any more. It has no purpose! Space is the perfect place for immortals, for we don’t need to sleep, so night is redundant. You are either on shift or not. Your work time and leisure time is of equal length. This band,’ she pointed to a band that ran around the left elbow of her suit, ‘lets you know when your shift is. At the beginning of each shift the band turns white. If you are to be on duty then a small strip of red will present itself and work its way around your arm. See how my red band has nearly joined up? That means my work shift is nearly over. When it is, the band will turn white and a small strip of blue will appear, marking the beginning of my leisure time. Our rotating roster is roughly the equivalent to eight hours back on Gaia, which you might better identify with the length of the daylight hours of a midwinter day in Gwynedd. You’ll get used to it,’ she assured.

But Maelgwn was still frowning. ‘But how am I to know when the Gathering is nigh?’ The question served to dampen everybody’s spirits.

‘Here, in space, there is no past, there is no future, only now. Accept that, and you will be very happy here,’ Candace suggested rather adamantly, then softened her tone to try and appease the loss all three men quite obviously felt. ‘To torture yourselves pining after another outcome will only squander your energy. Know only that the Gathering will come, and save your willpower for creating a better present. Then our future will be as wonderful as we can possibly make it.’

‘I know wisdom when I hear it,’ Cadwell announced, resolving to follow her advice.

Cadwallon smiled at the woman who had been his adopted mother during Maelgwn’s rule of Gwynedd. ‘You always did have a lovely way of putting things.’

Candace brushed off their praise with a shake of her head. ‘That was Sibyl’s advice to me upon my arrival here, and it is a creed that I swear by.’

‘Then it shall be my creed,’ Maelgwn decided. ‘To hell with time.’

‘To hell with time!’ Cadwallon and Cadwell resounded in accord, when a great rumble was heard to pass underneath them.

‘Whoa. What was that?’ Cadwell looked to the floor beneath his feet, as did Cadwallon and Maelgwn.

‘Scouts returning, most likely,’ Candace replied casually, just knowing there was going to be a big reaction to the news.

The lads from Gwynedd all smiled broadly.

‘Spacecraft!’ Cadwell announced, rubbing his hands together delighted. ‘Can we go see? Can we? Please!’ He placed his head on Candace’s shoulder and raised his big, pale brown eyes to her to plead his cause.

‘I suppose that would be a nice high note to end today’s tour on,’ Candace conceded, having fully intended to take them to the spacecraft docking bay anyway. Her fully-grown male recruits all started bouncing around with excitement like a bunch of boys.

I knew we shouldn’t have mixed their medications.

10

Absent Friends

When Maelgwn considered how he had felt when he regained consciousness earlier this day, his situation turned out to be rather better than he would have expected.

Besides meeting Cadwell and Cadwallon, both of whom he treasured already, he’d met other old friends, toured part of a space station, seen a convertible space racer, and been for a test drive on a very realistic simulator.

At present he stood in his own private accommodation here on the Aten that, although it was not a castle, would certainly make for a very comfortable living arrangement for one person.

‘These will not be your permanent quarters, but they are very similar,’ Candace informed as she entered to make sure Maelgwn didn’t require any further assistance settling in.

‘They are beyond all expectation,’ Maelgwn assured, testing out the stability of a floating seat by pushing down on it with both his hands.

This amused Candace. ‘Everything here is suspended by a process known as magnetic threading.’

Maelgwn nodded as his brain expounded the data. An object was balanced in between several sets of magnets attracting and repelling it, which kept the article positioned at the desired height. This process allowed for the furniture to adjust to the subtle tilts of the Aten, but had only proven effective with the lightweight, heavy-duty metal, charichalum.

‘Have you ever had your own apartment?’ Candace queried, as she watched Maelgwn get comfortable in the seat.

‘No, not in this lifetime.’ He discovered the chair beneath him reclined and swiveled, so he swung around in circles a few times. ‘But I feel sure I shall greatly enjoy it.’

‘It’s the best!’ Candace voiced her view, retreating to the door to leave him to his thoughts for a bit. ‘Feel free to poke about, get comfortable, cleaned up and so on. Your recreation time starts now, and by the time your work shift starts, we should have a full team.’

Candace was gone before Maelgwn had a chance to raise himself to say goodbye; thus he remained reclined in his comfortable suspended chair attempting to comprehend his new reality.

He wondered about the undisclosed members of the team. The process of elimination told him that if Candace was here in space, then the Chosen incarnation of her male half, the soul he knew as Brockwell, must still be back on earth. Sir Tiernan, as Boadicea’s other half, must also be back there. The same went for Sir Angus, Talynn’s other half and Rhun, Sibyl’s other half. So who did that leave?

‘Rhys!’ Maelgwn was excited by the notion of seeing his life-long friend and advisor again, although he had to concede that it might be Rhys’ wife, Jenovefa, who had been chosen for the space side of the Chosen’s task. ‘Selwyn?’ he raised both brows to suppose. ‘Ah, just wait and see.’ Maelgwn decided that there was little point in wasting time and energy on wondering, when he’d know for certain before too long.

His focus turned to his new space quarters, and as he gazed about at the alien technology therein, he began processing information about the different functions of the contents. When the dark floor-to-ceiling tube across the room registered in his brain as a cleansing tube, Maelgwn knew he must investigate at once and began stripping off his bodysuit.

This tube was not just designed to cater for the cleansing of the physical body, but for the mental and spiritual bodies as well. Once sealed inside the tube, which was over ten feet in diameter, Maelgwn was gently sprayed with warm to hot scented water and dried by gentle streams of warm air. The lighting inside the tube dimmed as his body was liberated from all its weight and he found himself floating. Maelgwn’s nerves were soothed by aromatic air, his mind and spirit liberated by melodious ambient music.

The inside metal wall of the tube retracted into the floor to reveal a wall composed of thousands of tiny crystals. The healing stones glowed brightly behind a clear shield that encompassed the inner-side of the tube, and were inset in bands that ran round the tube from top to bottom according to the parts of the subtle body they corresponded with. Clear quartz crystals monopolised the area closest to the ceiling — this stone related to the crown chakra, the seat of divine force and strength. Below the band of gleaming white, the deep violet stone of amethyst began to intermingle with the quartz, until a solid band of purple predominated. Amethyst related to the third eye area. Its cleansing powers helped aid spiritual evolution by promoting oneness and inspirational thought. Lapis lazuli was the stone that featured below this, its deep blue colour relating to the throat chakra and one’s power of communication. The middle band of stones was rose quartz, which healed the heart centre, the seat of the soul-mind’s compassion and intelligent love. The pink stone faded into a band of yellow topaz, for the cleansing of the solar plexus, the source of gut instinct, located behind the stomach of the physical body. A band of red jasper cleansed the spleen chakra, the centre of sexuality, creativity and passion. Black onyx then became the dominate stone towards the floor. This was to cleanse the root chakra located at the base of the spine, the centre of fear in the subtle body, of grounding and one’s will to take action.

By the time Maelgwn staggered out of the tube, he could do little more than lay on his bed in a near comatose state. He noted a large inset in the wall behind his bed that curved over into the domed roof.

‘Open shields,’ he thought, and the shields parted to expose a panoramic view of the astounding cosmos outside.

His new surroundings were as magnificent as they were luxurious, and yet Maelgwn had to wonder if he would ever really feel contented here. For twenty years Tory had been his home, and his homesickness consumed him. Remorse over his treatment of his wife just prior to his retrieval from sixth-century Gwynedd was also a nagging emotion at present. He regretted mistrusting her and allowing his accursed jealous streak to get the upper hand.

‘It’s just an after-effect of the cleaning tube, it always brings stored ill will to the surface. You must forgive yourself, Maelgwn. After all, you were only human.’

Maelgwn looked to find the free-floating form of a young man by his bed, which it took him a moment to recognise. ‘Taliesin?’ He managed to raise his lazy carcass to a seated position.

Taliesin appeared puzzled by Maelgwn’s failure to recognise him readily. ‘Ah, that’s right.’ He realised his error and immediately aged into an old and twisted man. ‘Better?’

Maelgwn smiled, well pleased to see him. ‘You have no need to keep up that disguise any more, High Merlin. Please feel free to appear as you truly are.’

‘That could be a little embarrassing in your present state.’ Taliesin referred to Maelgwn’s nakedness.

Maelgwn found the answer curious, and pulled the bedclothes around himself. ‘Why … thou hast seen me naked before?’

‘That is true … to a point.’

Taliesin’s behaviour was very odd indeed and Maelgwn cocked an eye as he detected a deception. ‘You’re not Taliesin, are you?’

‘In so far as his higher self is linked with mine, I am Taliesin,’ he explained, warily.

‘You must be the High Merlin’s chosen female other!’ Maelgwn exclaimed, having worked out the conundrum.

‘I am,’ Taliesin granted with a smile. ‘But I thought you might feel more comfortable dealing with a male persona.’

Maelgwn declined her kind thought with a shake of his head. ‘I’d feel more comfortable dealing with the true persona of the individual I am dealing with. Taliesin deceived me my whole life thus, and rightly so. I was impossible. But I’m a big boy now, so I would rather not be shielded from the whole truth any more, if it’s all the same to you?’

‘As you wish.’ Taliesin transformed into a beautiful dark-skinned maiden, with hair darker than Maelgwn’s own and eyes of lilac that shone with the glow of an enlightened being. ‘I am Seshut, scribe and advisor to the Lord Marduk.’ She bowed her head in greeting. ‘My Lord has sent me to make myself known to you as a spiritual advisor here on the Aten. Please feel free to call on me, as you would have called on Taliesin back on Gaia.’

Maelgwn suddenly felt very foolish, for so many reasons he couldn’t count them. Primarily, the thought that he’d accused Taliesin of having designs on Tory, when he obviously had this wonderfully radiant higher love of his own, made Maelgwn want to hit himself. ‘I have been such an idiot, Seshut,’ he whined, as he bundled the bedclothes around himself and moved to find some more suitable attire. ‘I have hurt every soul dear to me, and if I live to be as old as the cosmos itself, I shall never make it up.’

‘Oh yes, you will,’ she told him surely, pointing in the direction of his dressing module as Maelgwn seemed to be having trouble finding it.

‘I knew that,’ he told her, dragging his bedding into the tiny module with him. ‘Sorry about this.’ He had a little trouble closing the door.

Seshut shook her head, amused by her error. He would have been more comfortable dealing with a male, she realised.

Maelgwn returned a moment later, having found himself a pair of comfortable trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. ‘Taliesin is linked to you psychically, you said?’

Seshut smiled warmly at this, and foreseeing where he was heading with the question, she assumed a physical form and floated down to stand on the floor. ‘That is why I feel I know you so well, Dragon … we are more proud of you than any we have tutored in our entire lives.’

Maelgwn shook his head, feeling most unworthy. ‘How can you say that after I unjustly accused you and banished you from Gwynedd?’ Maelgwn really wanted to die as he recalled the incident, he was so angry with himself.

‘Maelgwn, listen to me.’ Seshut calmly called for his attention. ‘It is not within our nature to truly bear you ill will. It never was. Not even when you left to study with the priests.’ She reached out and held the palm of her hand to his cheek. ‘Your absence left a gaping void in our life, that is true … but how we rejoiced upon your return. One of the reasons that we love Tory so well is that she brought our prodigy back to us.’

Tears welled in Maelgwn’s eyes — he couldn’t stop them. ‘There are no words to describe my remorse.’

Seshut shook her head slowly to assure him it was unnecessary. ‘We’d much rather have your love than your remorse, if it’s all the same to you?’

She made him smile, and he gave a great sigh. ‘You surely have that, merlin, and always have. Any hate I might have expressed was in fever, and not truly me.’

‘Then don’t blame yourself.’ She whipped a handkerchief out of thin air and handed it to him.

Maelgwn found it difficult to let the guilt go; it clung to his heart insisting more punishment was necessary. He wasn’t used to being this emotional either — he was worse than a pregnant woman.

Seshut was tickled by his thought.

‘What’s so amusing?’ Maelgwn wasn’t sure how to react to her sudden attack of the giggles.

‘You are going out in sympathy with Tory,’ Seshut informed him with delight.

‘Pardon?’ Maelgwn invited her to expound on the information. It had escaped his attention that if Taliesin and Seshut were in contact with each other, she could give him word of Tory.

‘Tory is with child, Maelgwn. She carries the daughter of your twentieth century incarnation, Miles Thurlow.’

Maelgwn just stood there a moment, with a blank look on his face. ‘I’m not too sure how I feel about that.’

‘She is your daughter, Maelgwn.’ Seshut sounded surprised at him. ‘If you are annoyed you missed the conception, a little past-life recall should bring you up to speed on it.’

Now Maelgwn was stunned; Seshut was to the point. ‘I just might do that.’ He broke into a huge smile. ‘I’m going to have a daughter.’ He was rather dazed by the unexpected high the notion brought with it.

‘Her name shall be Rhiannon, and she’s going to be something extraordinary,’ Seshut assured him with a hug of congratulations.

‘Thank you.’ Maelgwn felt renewed as he parted from Seshut’s embrace. ‘Forgiveness may have been years in coming if not for your mercy.’

‘It is your own understanding that sets you free, Maelgwn,’ said Seshut, ‘but you are welcome all the same.’

As the band on the arm of his suit turned white, Maelgwn headed out into the corridor beyond his quarters to find Cadwell just as impatient to get on with his new life.

‘Mighty hospitable conditions we’ve got here, wouldn’t you say, Grandpa?’ Cadwell pushed off the wall to stand on his own two feet now that company had arrived.

Maelgwn didn’t know how he felt about Cadwell’s nickname for him, but he nodded to agree with his comment. ‘And I have just learned that we are expecting your aunt.’

‘Rhiannon? Yes, of course, you must be delighted.’ Cadwell smiled, happy for him. ‘Congratulations!’ He shook his grandfather’s hand. ‘She was born just before I was,’ Cadwell explained, as Maelgwn was looking a little perturbed.

‘Hey, Dragon,’ Cadwallon called as he stepped out of his abode into the corridor. ‘I have news for you. Your queen is with child.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Maelgwn was again stunned. Was there no one he could surprise with his announcement? ‘The question is how do you know?’

‘Did you get a chance to experiment with the meditation chamber in your quarters?’ Cadwallon questioned, as he came to stand by his kinsmen, who both shook their heads. ‘Well, I did. There’s one program there designed to enhance past-life regression … and I got to wondering about my Chosen other. Thus, I’ve just spent most of my recreation time learning all about her, through the eyes of my twentieth century incarnation.’

‘So, who is she?’ The story, and the fact that they had access to such data, intrigued Cadwell.

‘The wonderful woman in question is …’ Cadwallon looked to Maelgwn with a cheeky grin on his face. ‘Your daughter.’

‘But —’ Maelgwn was flabbergasted by the claim. ‘She hasn’t even been born yet!’

‘In your reality, Dragon,’ Cadwallon pointed out, as he took up Maelgwn’s hand and shook it. ‘Congratulations, by the way, she is magnificent!’

‘Magnificent. In what regard?’ Maelgwn was put off by Cadwallon’s intonation.

‘In every regard,’ Cadwallon vexed the expectant father whereupon he found himself in a headlock.

‘I just get over having to ward you off my wife, and now I have to ward you off my daughter?’ Maelgwn tightened his grip on Cadwallon. ‘Please don’t refer to my baby girl in a sexual context. Allow me to get used to having a daughter before I have to start morally defending her from the likes of you.’

‘My apologies, Dragon, but I couldn’t resist,’ Cadwallon squeezed out.

Maelgwn let his captive go and Cadwallon bounced away a few paces, still smiling broadly. ‘I don’t suppose I should tell you that my twentieth century incarnation also had his eye on your wife then?’

‘I don’t believe you!’ Maelgwn moved to pursue Cadwallon, who had already taken off up the corridor, when Boadicea’s whistle brought their antics to a grinding halt.

‘Come, children.’ She beckoned them to follow. ‘Chow’s up.’

On the same level as their quarters, down the end of the corridor, was what Boadicea described as a canteen and recreation room, but the lads from the Dark Age considered it looked more like a banquet room.

From the door, the food was laid out on a long table that ran all the way down to the far wall. Some of the cuisine they recognised, but much of the food on offer they had never seen before. This feast was tended by some mighty savoury looking females.

‘Take a plate,’ invited one of the women from behind the food service counter. ‘Help yourselves to whatever takes your fancy.’

Cadwell decided he detected an invitation to sample more than just the exotic food. ‘Paradise.’ Cadwell rubbed his hands together, gleefully, of the mind to take the lovely lady up on her kind offer.

‘Watch yourselves,’ Boadicea warned them all. ‘These women are of the Leonine breed, and the Chosen are forbidden to mate with any of the other human breeds.’

‘What a crying shame,’ Cadwell considered, as he gazed at the lovely lioness who had the most amazing mass of long auburn hair he’d even seen.

‘The Leonine women in particular can be very persuasive.’ Boadicea expanded on her caution. ‘What they wouldn’t do to have the child of a demi-god to lead their race to greatness over their Nefilim creators.’

The woman Cadwell had been admiring hissed at Boadicea as she overheard her advice to the menfolk and made a slashing motion with her long fingernails before walking away.

When the political implications of such a seduction hit home, the idea tended to lose its appeal. ‘Well, the food looks good anyway,’ Cadwell resolved.

‘Good lad.’ Boadicea gave him a slap on the back that almost winded him.

‘You’re very strong,’ Cadwell gasped out as he accompanied the warrioress to the food service area.

‘Sir Rhys reporting for duty, your Majesty.’

Maelgwn’s heart leapt into his throat as he turned to take the hand of his long-time friend and shake it firmly. ‘I knew you’d get here.’

The knight nodded his head. ‘I only had to spend one half my life fighting crusades and other half leading an uprising against the sheriffs and the prelates of the Church to get here.’

‘Sounds pretty familiar.’ Maelgwn nodded in accord. ‘And by what name are you known these days?’

‘Robin of Loxley … in my era, you were known as Little John,’ he informed Maelgwn. ‘Due to your huge stature … you haven’t changed much, I see.’ He slapped one of the warrior’s broad shoulders.

It wasn’t that Maelgwn was much taller than Robin, just that he was more muscular than most, present company included.

‘This lad here was my cousin, Will Scarlet.’ Robin referred to Cadwallon, who shook Robin’s hand in greeting. ‘And the fellow down yonder, stuffing his face, was known as Much.’ He looked to Cadwell, delighted to see him. ‘My three dearest and most trusted companions are all here. I can hardly believe it.’

‘What kind of a name is Much?’ Cadwell wandered back to query the newcomer.

Cadwallon had to take advantage of that question and answered in Robin’s stead. ‘As in, he doesn’t love himself … Much.’

All present got a laugh out of the comment, although Cadwell wasn’t amused.

‘How did you know?’ Robin questioned Cadwallon as he laughed along with him.

‘Yeah, well, in my time, you,’ Cadwell pointed to Robin, ‘were the bastard son of Sir Gawain and some whore from Degannwy.’ Cadwell wandered back to the food.

Robin looked rather perturbed about the news a moment.

‘Don’t feel bad,’ Cadwallon appealed, as he made a move to get something to eat. ‘I was the bastard son of King Brockwell and some whore from Aberffraw in Maelgwn’s era.’

Robin stood in a daze a moment, wearing a silly smirk on his face. ‘Damn, it’s good to see you all.’

‘The feeling is mutual,’ Maelgwn assured him.

The rest of their squadron was seated around one of the huge tables in the rec-room, which was otherwise devoid of people.

‘Are we the only newcomers?’ questioned Cadwell, as he seated himself.

Candace shook her head. ‘There are many accommodation decks in this module, so we keep the new arrivals of different squads separated until they are familiar with the people in their own crew. So, I suggest we all sit down and get reacquainted.’ She waved Maelgwn and Robin to comply, as they were dragging the chain.

Maelgwn sat down in the closest available seat and, as he was still lost in conversation with Robin, he didn’t notice whom he was planting himself next to.

‘Long time no see, Dragon.’

The hairs on the back of Maelgwn’s neck stood on end as he recognised Vanora’s voice, and he turned round to confirm his horror. ‘What is she doing here?’ He rose right out of his seat upon sighting her. ‘She destroyed my marriage, half my kingdom and more!’

‘I told you he’d still hold a grudge,’ she commented to Candace, before looking back to Maelgwn. ‘We’ve all done things under Mahaud’s influence that we regret, haven’t we? I did amend my wrongdoing in the end.’

‘Tis true,’ Cadwell backed her up. ‘Vanora wed Eormenric of Saxony, and did much to aid the peace between our kingdoms in my lifetime.’

Maelgwn realised that, by the very fact of her presence here, she must have done something to prove her worth. ‘You’ll have to grant me a little time to adjust my perspective.’ He was again seated beside her, although he still didn’t feel comfortable about the arrangement.

‘Okay.’ Candace slapped her hands together and stood. ‘I believe you’re all familiar with myself. I am Candace of Shamar and by my Lord Marduk’s appointment, I am to be the second in command of this rowdy rabble of a squadron.’

‘Second in command to whom?’ Robin queried, whereby all the older recruits looked to Maelgwn.

‘Me?’ Maelgwn was stunned, considering the present company. ‘Why me?’

‘Yeah, why him?’ Cadwell was also curious to know.

‘Because he is the most spiritually advanced soul-mind among us,’ Candace stated plainly, raising her brows to invite an argument from anyone on that point. ‘Thus our squadron has been dubbed Dragon Squad.’

‘I love it!’ Cadwell exclaimed.

Although his team-mates seemed pleased with their code name, Maelgwn slouched in his seat, appearing none too thrilled by the news. ‘Why is it always me who gets placed in a position of authority? Why can’t I just be one of the foot soldiers for a change?’

‘That’s strange,’ Candace frowned. ‘I was of the impression that you liked to be well informed?’

‘Well … there is that,’ Maelgwn conceded, raising both brows.

But before Candace could inform anyone else of their squadron positions, she introduced the last member of their team, whom few of the people present readily recognised. ‘This is Pocahontas of the Powhatans tribe,’ Candace announced, ‘but her Chosen name is Rebecca.’

She was a red-skinned warrioress, who was rather diminutive in size. Her long black hair was separated into many braids, that were all pulled back into one neat ponytail.

‘Most of you will be wondering why I am here,’ Rebecca began.

‘I know you.’ Cadwell gave her a wink. ‘You’re Selwyn’s other half.’

Maelgwn was delighted to learn that his bard had found his significant other. ‘This must have happened after my departure from Gwynedd?’

‘Indeed,’ Rebecca confirmed. ‘Although I must confess I have only just started exploring my past lives, so I still remember little of my lifetime in the Dark Ages.’

‘Not to worry, Rebecca, you are most welcome among our ranks,’ Maelgwn assured her, and those present seconded the sentiment.

Once the introductions were over, Candace informed those present that everyone within Dragon Squad had been pre-selected and pre-programmed to perform a specialised function within the team in accordance with their outstanding callings or failings in past and present lives.

Cadwallon, having proven to be technically minded in past lives, was the on-board systems analyst. Rebecca, who was an excellent scout, would adapt her talents to specialise in vehicle tracking systems. Cadwell had been none too happy when he’d discovered he’d been cheated out of the pilot’s position by Robin. Cadwell was to be navigator and co-pilot, which required him to think harder than he cared to most of the time, which was exactly why the responsibility had been assigned to him. Ione, who had always been one to strike first and talk later, was the visual and audio correspondent, so that she might refine her observation and verbal communication skills. Vanora, having had much experience with protocol and otherworldly communications of the positive and negative varieties, was to be the ET communication advisor. Talynn was already specialising in munitions, and Sibyl was the squadron seer and healer.

On the whole there were no arguments from the squadron in regard to particular assignments within a team framework, for none could dispute that the tasks were well suited to their capabilities.

By the end of the meal, those present were all reasonably well acquainted with the others of the squadron, and now that they were all finally assembled in the same place and moment, it was time for their first induction lecture.

Candace led the excited recruits to the large greenhouse room on the same level of the Aten — there was one natural reserve on each floor of the new recruits’ module. Inside this huge nature sanctuary, large shield windows awarded beautiful views of deep space, and amid all the gardens there was a small grassy amphitheatre, where the whole squad was asked to be seated.

‘So!’ Robin lay back on the grass to support himself on his elbows. ‘What’s this induction all about?’ He aimed his question at Candace, as she seemed to be more in the know than anyone.

Candace shrugged in response. ‘You know as much as I do,’ she advised. ‘As this is the first time our squad has been assembled in its entirety, this is the first induction lecture I have attended.’

‘Might we receive a mission?’ Cadwell rubbed his hands together with great anticipation.

Talynn found this premise rather amusing, considering their new recruits lacked training. ‘I hardly think so.’

Cadwell was both curious and offended by her reaction. ‘Why not?’

As Talynn opened her mouth to explain, the artificial lighting in the greenhouse dimmed and everyone fell silent as Seshut manifested in the middle of the little amphitheatre’s lecture area.

‘Welcome, Dragon Squad, to this your first induction lecture.’

Seshut began by introducing herself as she had to Maelgwn earlier, and enlightened those not already aware that she was to be their spiritual advisor here on the Aten.

‘Each one of you has proven yourself a prodigy of your race,’ Seshut continued. ‘You have advanced physically, mentally and spiritually beyond the realms of normal human understanding and thus you have been chosen to lead the way to the next stage of Homo sapiens’ evolution. Through your striving you have raised the consciousness of your individual soul-minds to a level where you have established your first direct unity with the Logos of your solar system, from which you were all originally projected forth into existence.’

At this point Cadwell raised his hand to question with a frown. ‘The Logos?’

Seshut smiled, understanding his confusion. ‘Every solar system in the universe has a Logos or guardian spirit who presides over its evolution and involution from higher states of awareness down through a physical manifestation and back to archetypal consciousness once more. This cycle takes seven rounds of evolution to complete, each evolution taking place on a different planet within that same solar system, although these planets are not all present on the physical plane. The evolution you have known has come during the fourth round of development of this system’s Logos, where matter and spirit have been interwoven to form countless relations. This is the turning point where the involution of this system’s Logos, Apsu, begins the ascent back upward through the planes towards higher consciousness and understanding. And the Chosen Ones, as his prize students, will take the journey back to divinity with him … some of you are destined to become the Planetary Logos of the future.’

This suggestion certainly served to make Seshut’s breathless audience gasp with awe.

‘And thus the universe will continue to expand and host new life,’ Seshut concluded.

‘What will become of the rest of humankind?’ Cadwallon wondered.

‘Many more will join the ranks of the Chosen just prior to the Gathering, and more will be enlightened thereafter with the help of the Chosen Ones,’ Seshut advised. ‘But those soul-minds who have fallen behind in their spiritual lessons will be put into a sleep state at the end of Gaia’s round of existence, until a future round of physical existence provides them with a suitable opportunity to continue their evolution at their own pace. These held-over souls will then aid the young souls of that future time who have not previously had the same benefit from past-life experience. And, as much you now excel among those of your current species, so shall they have the opportunity to excel among the like-minded souls of their new evolution.’

‘So,’ Cadwallon posed. ‘We could have been the spiritual laggards of the last human evolution in this system?’

‘Correct,’ Seshut commended, delighted that he and his fellow squad members were grasping her tutorial. ‘But that was not the case, however.’

Maelgwn raised his hand, curious about the origins of the God whose service they were in. ‘Did the Nefilim evolve in this system?’

Seshut cocked an eye, finding his question an interesting one. ‘No. The Nefilim were brought here from another system to help settle Homo sapiens life on this planet. None of the previous souls in this planetary chain had proven sufficiently emotionally adjusted to the physical plane to perform the task. And,’ she raised both brows, now that she came to consider it, ‘some of the Nefilim proved not quite so capable of coping with the temptations of the physical realms as hoped. But their evolution belongs to an entirely different system to your own — that of the Logos, Anu.’

‘But did we not inherit some of their evolution via the immortal gene of our mutual forefather, Marduk, and his forefather, Bedi?’ Maelgwn pursued his line of questioning, and he wondered at the broad endearing smile that Seshut awarded him.

‘What humankind inherited from the Nefilim’s involvement in your creation was more a karmic debt, which shall be worked out with their Logos, Anu, before the end of Gaia’s round of existence.’

‘So, we,’ Maelgwn referred to the Chosen Ones around him, ‘shall have something to do with repaying that karmic debt?’

‘Every individual soul-mind has a quest.’ Seshut neatly avoided the question. ‘It is not for me to say what that is, but, when the time is right, your involvement, if any, will be made known to you.’

‘What about the other human breeds.’ Rebecca changed the subject to one that interested her more. ‘Did they evolve in our system?’

‘The other human breeds have been developed in other star systems more suited to their evolution, but their development is running in conjunction with yours.’ Seshut paused a moment to think how to best explain the situation. ‘The Logos of each planetary chain that was to host human life formed an alliance. And as much as allied Kings shuffle their best troops to suit the best advantage — to hold a fort or train their reinforcements — so too do these Logos distribute their star souls to periods of crisis within the different eras of evolution in their systems.’

‘Are you saying I might have been a Leonine once, or a Delphinus?’ Robin was amazed by the suggestion, having only just been made aware that there were other human breeds.

‘I am saying,’ Seshut clarified, ‘that you would have had to have had at least one incarnation in each human breed to have arrived at this point. You have been created by the allied Logoi to guide and protect all the human breeds of the systems that have helped bring you into being, without bias.’

‘Which brings us back to our karmic debt,’ Maelgwn concluded.

‘Indeed,’ Seshut granted with a smile.

‘Are we allowed to explore those lives spent among the other human breeds?’ Candace was obviously keen to do so.

‘Please do. We want you to be aware of their plight,’ Seshut urged. Then her expression turned grave. ‘But I must warn you, some of these past-life experiences are very painful, and it is best to use a meditation chamber, set to the observe mode, when recalling them. Full sensory perception is not recommended, as it will damage your auric field.’

As Maelgwn was about to jump in with a question about the living conditions of the other human breeds, Seshut decided to end the tutorial for the day.

‘We shall have many more forums such as this over the course of your stay here on the Aten. But I hand you over to your deep-space combat instructors with this thought. The sun of any given system is the physical manifestation of the heart chakra of the Logos that abides over it. So, when given the chance, feel the sun on your face, for with its healing rays you absorb the love of the life force of the entire system and beyond. May the light of Apsu shine through you all.’ She faded from their midst.

Their first induction lecture had given the squadron much food for thought, and Maelgwn was rather disappointed to have been called away from his team-mates in mid-discussion. Whilst the rest of the new recruits got to go on a routine scouting patrol with Boadicea, Maelgwn and Candace had been summoned to an audience with the Lord Marduk. Interested as he was to meet the presiding Lord of the Aten, Maelgwn was a bit perturbed at having to miss out on the squad’s first flight in space.

Maelgwn accompanied Candace to the long observation bridge that connected their module to the main body of the Aten. He came to a halt as they began walking across the bridge, curious as to their intent. ‘Are you taking me into the heart of the Aten?’ Maelgwn’s grin broadened at the thought.

‘Well, that’s where Marduk resides,’ Candace replied, pointing to the upper part of the huge structure before them. ‘I could have just transported us there, but,’ she shrugged, ‘I thought you’d find this route more interesting.’

‘You thought right.’ Maelgwn no longer regretted missing a joyride in a space racer, and resumed their course with renewed enthusiasm. ‘Head of command is looking better all the time.’

At the end of the empty thoroughfare they came to a large, arched inset in the wall.

‘Are you ready for this?’ Candace attempted to keep her commander in suspense a moment.

Open shield doors. Maelgwn cut to the chase.

‘Aw!’ Candace whined as he spoilt her fun.

The doors parted and they entered a large enclosed observation deck, which awarded a rather spectacular view of the city beneath, above and before them.

‘Great Mother of creation … it’s huge!’ Maelgwn laughed, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the civilisation he beheld. ‘Not even in the twentieth century did I see a construction of these proportions.’

‘You obviously never made it to New York,’ Candace commented, relating to his awe. She’d been here for what seemed like forever and the sight of the city still held her spellbound.

Even here, there was not a soul to be seen, yet beyond the observation deck windows, thousands upon thousands of transports were buzzing about their merry way above and below them. A long walkway headed off in both directions around the inner wall of the Aten, and there was a transporter plate in the observation lounge also.

‘So, do you want to beam, walk or call for a ride?’ Candace outlined their options.

Maelgwn wandered right into the arc of the semi-circular observation area and pointed out beyond the huge floor to ceiling windows. ‘I want to go out there.’

‘In that case, I’ll hail a transport.’ Candace walked over to a metal plate on the wall, and placing her hand upon it, she recorded her request. ‘Won’t be long.’ She took a seat by the vehicle docking area to keep an eye out for their ride.

‘Have you managed to explore it all?’ Maelgwn asked Candace, his eyes remaining fixed on the neon metropolis outside.

‘Not even close,’ she overstated, ‘and I’ve been trying!’

As Maelgwn stared down at his future, a huge gaping void opened in his heart. How he wished Tory could see this. ‘Why did Marduk separate us from our Chosen other?’

The look Candace gave him implied that the answer was obvious. ‘You can ask him yourself.’ She stood as an inset in the ceiling vanished and a pod-like vehicle came to hover in the centre of the observation lounge. ‘Your chariot, Commander.’ Candace climbed into the pod as a part of the side disappeared to grant entry.

Maelgwn was surprised to find there was only seating for two within the hovering vehicle.

‘Please enter destination,’ instructed the pod, in a very sultry female voice.

‘Where’s the driver?’ Maelgwn looked about him.

‘No driver required.’ Candace placed her hand on a silver plate located between their seats.

‘To the Star Chamber.’ Candace answered their transport’s request. ‘You’d better fasten that seatbelt.’ Candace moved to show him how, but Maelgwn complied without aid. ‘Nothing wrong with your memory implant,’ she commented as the pod rose up out of the observation centre and went soaring up through the moving traffic overhead. ‘This pod is connected via a network to every other transport pod in the city,’ Candace explained calmly, as their vehicle took them on a roller-coaster ride to the heavens. ‘It has plotted a course to our destination around the current flight path of every other vehicle. So rest assured … we’ve never once had a collision here in the Aten.’

‘Surprising.’ Maelgwn forced a smile, gripping the armrest of his seat. He had thought he would enjoy the ride but, truth be known, it just gave him motion sickness.

High up in the Aten the chaotic traffic conditions thinned out and the vehicle ceased to duck and weave. ‘Praise the Goddess.’ Maelgwn breathed a sigh of relief as the ride smoothed to a cruise. ‘I think I left my stomach back down there somewhere.’

Candace was amused, having felt the same way when she had first sampled the Aten’s transportation system.

Their pod came to hover underneath the huge construction that encompassed the entire central ceiling of the Aten.

‘The Star Chamber requests identification and appointment code,’ the pod advised.

Candace placed her hand on the metal plate between their seat. ‘Candace of Shamar. Appointment code, Dragon command.’

‘Admittance granted,’ the pod confirmed. ‘Proceed to docking bay area.’

Candace looked to Maelgwn, raising both brows, impressed. ‘That’s the quickest clearance I’ve ever received here. Marduk must be eager to meet you.’

As their transport rose into the docking bay of the massive structure, the lighting therein stunned Maelgwn with its glare, for the main body of the Aten was, comparatively, much darker. Once the pod had cleared the shield doors it hovered slowly in to alight in the dock, whereupon the sides of their transport vanished and Candace and Maelgwn disembarked.

A young man strode forth to greet them; he was not one of the Chosen, however. His skin was very smooth and appeared so white it was blue. His crown was shaved entirely bald to expose a blowhole on the top of his head, which those of his breed, Homo Delphinus, used for breathing underwater. The rest of the lad’s long, silvery-grey hair was pulled back into a neat braid. From the way he held his hands, Maelgwn couldn’t see the webbing between the being’s fingers, but it was one of the defining features of his species — their feet were also webbed. According to Maelgwn’s information, the Delphinus were extremely good-natured and telepathic, so the lad was no doubt following his every thought.

‘Greetings, Dylan.’ Candace gave a slight bow out of courtesy, and Dylan returned the gesture. ‘Maelgwn. I’d like you to meet Dylan, personal assistant to the Lord Marduk.’

Maelgwn gave a slight bow as Candace had.

‘Dylan, this is Maelgwn Gwynedd.’

‘I know,’ said Dylan, holding up his hand so that Maelgwn might see the webbing between his fingers. ‘If only Homo sapiens were so well equipped, Atlantis would not have been such a disaster, hey?’ he joked, so that Maelgwn wasn’t led to think that he was in any way offended by his curious thoughts about the Delphinus breed.

‘How right you are,’ Maelgwn conceded, taking a liking to Dylan at once.

‘I find you most agreeable also,’ Dylan advised. ‘Out of all of the Chosen Ones, we have enjoyed following your progress most of all.’

‘Following my progress?’ Maelgwn queried, the good humour leaving his face.

‘We didn’t arrange all this by chance, you realise. The whole exercise of creating a race of Chosen Ones had to be intricately planned and executed.’ Dylan began to walk to the teleporter as he spoke. ‘We follow the lives of the descendants of the Lord Marduk via our representatives on earth.’

‘Representatives?’ Maelgwn echoed, as he strolled along beside Dylan, Candace following behind them.

‘Guardians might be a better job description,’ Dylan hinted, and Maelgwn knew at once to whom he referred.

‘Taliesin.’

‘That is one of his many names throughout the ages,’ Dylan granted. ‘See, Taliesin is a soul-mind so spiritually advanced that his higher subtle bodies have already begun to unite with those of his soulmate. This higher form of communication allows us to monitor the Chosen Ones that Taliesin is safeguarding on Gaia, via Seshut. Their soul-quest shall finally be completed come the Gathering. Hence, Taliesin and Seshut and others of their ilk, shall be reunited all the way down through the etheric planes of existence to their austral selves. At this time their individual physical manifestations will cease to exist. If our endeavour proves successful, these soul-minds can evolve to a higher consciousness knowing they have left behind them the means to achieve a better first-plane universal order.’

The idea of one day being joined with Tory for all time was a very comforting notion. Maelgwn felt quite sure he would never see Taliesin in quite the same light again and was so completely enchanted by Dylan’s words, he just wanted him to keep talking. ‘Does this union happen to all twin souls?’

‘It will happen to you, Dragon,’ Dylan smiled. ‘But there is much work in earning such spiritual advancement.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Maelgwn stepped onto the transporter plate beside his guide, unable to keep the smile from his face.

As Candace joined them, Maelgwn noticed two people manifesting on the plate alongside theirs. The being closest to Maelgwn was a middle-aged Delphinus male. As the pair walked towards a large space-going vessel, he discovered the other person was a slender, fit, female Delphinus in her prime. The transporter plate beneath Maelgwn’s feet lit up and the woman glanced back towards him. In the split second Maelgwn was granted to focus on her face, he could have sworn he saw Tory.

‘No wait!’ He was not fast enough to jump clear of the transporter, and found himself jumping off at his destination. He halted from his sprint when he realised that he was standing in a huge room filled with stars.

The floor and walls of the huge round chamber were made from polished charichalum and thus reflected the stars that shone through the massive, transparent domed ceiling. This design gave the illusion of walking in space, which was a very cosmic experience indeed. In the centre of the star chamber, atop a circular, staired platform, a large throne of quartz crystal rotated one hundred and eighty degrees so that his host might look down upon him.

Where are you off to in such a hurry, Dragon?

In the sombre light of the room, this being gave off his own illumination. One good look told Maelgwn that this was the Lord Marduk, but he also had some deeper recognition of the Nefilim God that must have been implanted upon his arrival. Not that Marduk could be identified by facial features, for an ornate falcon mask encompassed his entire head. A three-tiered neck band of gold hung around his neck and shoulders, its central feature akin to the symbol on the shoulder of Maelgwn’s uniform.

The quiet type, hey? commented Marduk, upon Maelgwn’s failure to respond.

‘Sorry, my Lord,’ Maelgwn bowed. ‘I am overawed by your presence … but honoured to make your acquaintance, I assure you.’

The God stood up to descend the stairs, and it became apparent that Marduk stood a good foot taller than Maelgwn; his warrior form made Maelgwn look like a lightweight. I am sorry to drag you away from your squadron so soon, Dragon, but I have a special assignment for you.

‘I am at your service,’ Maelgwn granted, ‘but wouldn’t you prefer someone more experienced? I —’

This mission is nothing that a diplomatic, open-minded and forthright warrior like yourself can’t handle, he explained. I feel confident sending you.

‘Sending me where?’ Maelgwn wondered out loud, whereby Marduk looked to Candace and Dylan.

Thank you both for delivering the Dragon. You may leave us now, he instructed, whereupon both parties bowed and returned to the transporter plate.

Once they were alone Marduk looked to Maelgwn, and the warrior knew the God was assessing him. You’re really not too sure about any of this, are you, Dragon? And fair enough, too. What man in his right mind would sign up for service with an outlaw?

Maelgwn nodded, although it was not to agree with Marduk. ‘Unless of course, you were part of the reason he was outlawed in the first place and were, therefore, in his debt.’

Marduk raised a finger to indicate he considered this a fair point. Creating a race of immortal humans was something I did as a result of my banishment, although if the Pantheon of Twelve ever find out about the Chosen, I dare say they will hunt me down, have me dismembered and sent to the four corners of the known universe.

‘Then why were you banished?’ Maelgwn probed, hoping the God didn’t mind. It was difficult to judge his mood without facial expression as an indication.

I was convicted of a murder I did not commit. My youngest brother, Dumuzi, vanished on Gaia under mysterious circumstances. His wife, Inanna, and her long-time lover-brother, Shamash, framed me for their crime.

‘Can you prove it?’

Maelgwn made the God laugh with the question, for it was so direct. Not yet. But with your aid, Dragon, it has been foreseen that I shall. Marduk motioned Maelgwn to take a seat where a moment ago there had been none.

‘So why did you create the Chosen Ones?’ Maelgwn complied with the Lord’s wish and sat down. ‘Aren’t you afraid that we may one day threaten the Nefilim’s interstellar rule?’

That is my greatest wish, Marduk announced as he seated himself also. Or at least that the Chosen will have a profound effect on the way the Pantheon rule. Of all the human races, Homo sapiens spiritually, mentally and emotionally developed the fastest. At such an amazing rate, in fact, that you were abandoned in infancy by my kin to be wiped out by the great deluge. The Nefilim feared your ability to comprehend, procreate and love. Love most of all, because we Nefilim don’t understand or feel emotion as deeply as is humanly possible. I only came to realise this when I fell in love with a mortal woman of your breed. The ultimate crime, Marduk emphasised with grim humour. And thanks to my telepathic skills, via her experience of loving me, I learned to love her in return. The God’s mood became more sombre now, as he continued to reminisce. After the Pantheon disposed of her and our unborn child, the seed of the Chosen Ones was planted. My father, Enki, was as spiritually evolved then as Taliesin is now. He’d discovered how to access history via the timeless fourth dimension and after the Dumuzi affair and my banishment, I became his willing means to ensure the survival of his most precious creation.

‘Did you go back and save your lover?’ Maelgwn asked, as this was the first thing he would have seen to.

In our grand scheme of things, I arranged for her escape, Marduk advised. Taliesin smuggled her out of Atlantis into the Dark Ages, with a bit of help from your wife, Dragon.

‘Tory?’ Maelgwn’s heart started racing upon the mention of her.

See, Marduk laughed, highly emotional creatures.

‘What in the name of the Goddess was Tory doing in Atlantis?’ Maelgwn sat forward in his seat, intrigued.

Do a little bit of past-life regression around your lifetime there, Dragon, and all shall be made clear, Marduk advised. Ah! That reminds me, I have a gift for you. He passed Maelgwn a sleek, metallic headband. Just place it on your temples and it operates automatically.

Maelgwn recognised the object as a thought recorder. ‘What data is on this?’

It’s a copy of all the telepathic communications we’ve had from Taliesin that you might be interested in. Your son’s wedding, the birth of your daughter, the birth of your grandson … I think you’ll enjoy it.

From holding the item at bay, Maelgwn suddenly clutched the band like the great treasure it was. ‘Thank you very much.’ He was touched by the sentiment; it seemed that at least this Nefilim ruler knew what it was to love and it made Maelgwn wonder. ‘Why did you separate each of the Chosen from their other?’ Marduk cocked his head at the question and Maelgwn guessed that if he could have seen the Lord’s expression, it would have been much the same as Candace’s when he’d put the same question to her earlier.

Answer me this. Before you met Tory Alexander, would you ever have considered taking your lover with you on a crusade?

Maelgwn knew where the Lord was heading with this line of questioning, and gave him a look that implied as much.

And why not? The Lord drew his conclusion all the same. Because a lover at the front line is a distraction. This way, your distraction becomes your motivation, and if it makes you feel any better, the Chosen incarnation of the woman I love is still back on earth along with yours.

Maelgwn was surprised to learn this — as the instigator of this project, Marduk could have easily arranged to have her close.

I wouldn’t ask you or any of the Chosen to suffer anything I am not prepared to endure myself, Marduk stated honestly. Besides, I feel safer keeping her hidden; even she is not entirely aware of her true destiny.

‘She is the mother of all the Chosen Ones?’ Maelgwn gathered from the way Marduk spoke of her that he would settle for no other mate.

From one end of Homo sapiens history to the other, I sought her. I very much enjoyed that part of my father’s scheme, jumping from one love affair with her to another. Our time together was always magical, but the consequences of being the mother of the Chosen made for one tough life after another for Bau.

‘Was that her name?’

In the first instance. Marduk’s focus now seemed miles away. Bau means ‘she who brings the dead to life’ and that’s exactly what she did, much to her own detriment.

‘So Bau was aware of what she was doing in bearing you children?’

Marduk nodded. In those incarnations where she was to conceive of the first of a line of Chosen children, it was imperative that she was aware.

‘But I was advised, only this morning, that the Nefilim evolution and human evolution are entirely separate.’ Maelgwn hoped his curiosity would not offend. ‘So how then can you and Bau ever hope to be joined as one?’

My particular soul-mind is only on loan to the Nefilim’s evolutionary chain, so that I could father the Chosen. Once my role in this affair is over, I shall ascend back to a celestial form, and my soul-mind will be reborn into the evolution of the Chosen.

His better judgment was telling Maelgwn that he’d fallen into good hands. He obviously owed this being much for his pains and was eager to start repaying that debt. ‘Well, my Lord, you have certainly succeeded in setting my mind at ease about a great many things, but we have yet to discuss my mission?’

That requires a little more privacy. Marduk stood and Maelgwn stood along with him, whereby their seats vanished.

11

Mission Control

The whooshing sound associated with a mobile vehicle here on the Aten was heard in the distance and from out of the deep, dark recesses of the huge star chamber a sleek, black two-man racer zoomed to a stop beside them.

Step into my office, Marduk invited as the doors disappeared. I’ll take you for a spin.

As he’d already left his stomach in the pod on the way here, Maelgwn figured he had nothing to lose. ‘If we must.’ He lowered himself into the passenger seat, whereupon his seatbelt startled him as it fastened itself.

Relax, Dragon. Marduk placed his hand on the metal control plate. The doors rematerialised and the racer moved off to run a circuit around the inside boundaries of the circular Star Chamber. I am a very cautious fellow, which is why I am yet to be found out by my peers.

Although it felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace, they were in fact zooming around the chamber at incredible speed. Maelgwn found that focusing on the interior of the racer was very beneficial.

Although I am outlawed, Marduk began, I am still in contact with one of my brothers, Gibal … which is highly illegal you understand. Maelgwn nodded to confirm that he did. He is the only other Nefilim who knows about the Chosen. He is a technologist you see, and he has been developing a couple of devices for my cause.

‘Such as?’ Maelgwn invited some more information.

As the creator of the Chosen, I must be prepared to take responsibility for them, and although I like to think that the Chosen are perfect in every way, I must allow for the possibility that some may fall from grace.

‘Are you talking about a form of punishment?’ Maelgwn was very glad when Marduk shook his head.

A means by which to rehabilitate, he clarified. Gibal is designing a device that will pierce through a being’s electromagnetic field and temporarily drain them of all PSI ability.

‘What?’ Maelgwn freaked. ‘And you would decide when such rehabilitation was necessary?’

I plan to form a court of justice which would pass judgment on my recommendation. The NERGUZ module can only be removed by the one person who attached it. They will be mentally linked with the offender until all undesirable thought patterns are reversed.

Maelgwn understood NERGUZ to mean ‘reversing weapon’. ‘It’s a wonderful idea in the hands of a just person, but if it were to fall into the wrong hands, no one would be safe, your kind included!’

That’s why I’m sending you, Marduk nudged Maelgwn’s shoulder, to ensure that doesn’t happen.

‘Has there been some threat to the project?’

Let’s just say that Inanna and Shamash have taken a personal interest in Gibal’s work of late. My brother has been so consumed with my projects that he has failed to invent any new toys for the members of the Pantheon to play with, so they’re starting to get suspicious. Gibal refuses to leave his laboratory on Lura, but has agreed to have one of the Chosen on hand to protect his research should trouble erupt. Lura is an ocean planet in the Deneb system.

It was on Lura that the dolphin breed had originally been created to help explore and develop it. Knowing it to be one hundred and fifty light-years from Gaia’s system, Maelgwn wondered how he was to get there.

There is a vessel in my docking bay waiting to take you to the next system.

Sirius. Maelgwn made a mental note.

There is a wormhole through to the Deneb system there. Talynn will make sure you are properly equipped for the mission whenever you are ready to leave.

Maelgwn was more than ready to get out of Marduk’s mobile office, that much was for sure. ‘Then there is no need for any further delay,’ Maelgwn confirmed, and was gratified when Marduk brought the racer to a stop.

But before the doors dispersed, Marduk added, Your immortality must remain hidden at all costs. There are Homo sapiens out here in space, but they are few and far between … which is why you’ll be less conspicuous on your own. Those of your breed that are here are abduction cases mainly, so, if anybody asks, take that angle.

‘Would I be lying?’ Maelgwn posed, amused.

Gibal knows your situation and will ensure none of his staff give you any trouble.

‘Ah … correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Gibal surrounded by the Delphinus, who are all telepathic?’

That problem we have already solved. Talynn will fix you up, the God informed, as Maelgwn stepped out of the racer and into the transporter beam. Goddess speed, Commander. If you can talk Gibal into moving his lab to the Aten, all the better.

‘I understand.’ Maelgwn bowed as the transporter claimed him and sped him to his next destination.

Talynn was awaiting Maelgwn when he arrived in the docking bay. ‘Munitions detail reporting for duty, Commander.’ She smiled, holding out a new suit jacket and wiggling it about in a fashion that implied he should put it on.

As he replaced the jacket he wore, Maelgwn noted his new attire lacked the symbol of Marduk and thus was completely black. He was a bit disconcerted when Talynn started fiddling with his upper leg, and he looked down to find her strapping a weapon holster to it.

As Talynn stood she pulled the handgun from its holder. ‘This is a PKA sonic pulse blaster … psychokinetically activated,’ she explained. ‘It will do pretty much whatever you tell it to: stun, destroy, paralyse, burn.’ Talynn turned to give him a quick demonstration, taking aim at a dock worker of the Leonine breed. ‘Stun,’ she instructed, whereupon a laser pulse bullet shot forth into the subject and he froze. ‘In accordance with Pantheon regulations, it won’t do anything too terrible to living matter.’ Talynn stepped back and turned her aim on Maelgwn.

‘Hey!’ he appealed, stepping away, which only served to give her a better line of fire.

‘Paralyse right leg.’

The bullet hit Maelgwn’s upper body yet it was only his right leg that went dead. ‘Thanks, Talynn, I get the picture.’ He hobbled on his one good leg, trying to keep his balance.

But Talynn maintained her aim. ‘Destroy,’ she instructed. Maelgwn nearly had heart failure. ‘See,’ she said when nothing happened. ‘The blaster’s more powerful functions are reserved for non-living matter only. Sorry about the leg — the effect will wear off in a second. These weapons don’t really have any long-lasting effects on our kind.’ She placed the gun back in his holster, and pulled a metallic band from one of the two belts slung around her waist, both of them loaded with the tools of her profession. ‘Thought wave neutraliser.’ She clamped the band around his right wrist and locked it on. ‘As long as you are wearing this, your thoughts are your own. It allows for telepathic communication, but prevents your mind from being probed. Unfortunately, it also hinders you from delving into the minds of those around you.’

‘You really enjoy your work, don’t you?’ Maelgwn commented as Talynn clamped an entirely different device onto his left wrist.

‘Hey, every man likes a woman who’s well equipped,’ she joked with a wink. ‘This is your voice-activated fighter module, and you can call up a craft of a particular form, depending upon the conditions you will be dealing with. Just advise the destination, mode of transport desired, and then initiate. Like this.’ She aimed the band clamped to her right wrist out before her. ‘AM-ME-KI-DU’.

The voice command was in the Nefilim’s tongue, and Maelgwn understood the instruction to mean: heavens — flying ship — initiate.

A blue beam shot forth from the module and coalesced into a bright ball of light several feet away. The ball of light expanded and began to assume the physical form of a large disk-shaped vehicle made of charichalum. The two opposing sides of the craft curved down and under and it hovered about two feet off the ground.

‘Simple particle manipulation,’ she explained. ‘GUR-DU.’ Upon her second instruction the vehicle decomposed into light matter once more and retracted back into her control module. ‘You handled the simulator well enough, so you shouldn’t have any problems with the operation.’

‘Let’s hope not.’ As the feeling was coming back into Maelgwn’s leg, he stomped his foot a few times to help the circulation along.

Finally Talynn removed one of the belts from around her waist and strapped it around Maelgwn’s. She noted Gibal’s Delphinus representative pacing around by the craft that was to take Maelgwn to Lura. ‘We haven’t got time for a demonstration of this lot, but you do have knowledge of every device in our arsenal. You’ll just have to familiarise yourself with their different functions on the way. Your mission directives and parameters are in force now. Good luck, Commander.’

Maelgwn dipped his head to her, much obliged for her briefing. ‘Thank you, Talynn, I feel more than adequately equipped.’

Talynn gave a firm nod to confirm that he was, and then led off to introduce him to his escort. ‘Dragon, this is Cornelin, chief advisor to the Lord Gibal.’

This was the middle-aged Delphinus male that he’d seen accompanying Tory earlier today. Maelgwn curbed his excitement to bow his head and make his escort’s acquaintance. ‘Greetings, Cornelin.’

Gibal’s representative appeared rather stunned upon viewing his charge. ‘This is most unexpected.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Maelgwn wondered at his escort’s perplexed expression. ‘I was under the impression you were my guide to Gibal?’

‘Yes, I am,’ Cornelin explained, snapping out of his curious mood. ‘Of course I am. Do come aboard, Dragon. We should get moving as quickly as possible.’

Cornelin nodded to Talynn to relieve her of her charge.

Maelgwn scaled the gangway of the vessel to discover he was in for a luxurious voyage. ‘You know how to travel in style, Cornelin.’

‘This is one of my Lord Gibal’s private craft,’ Cornelin explained, as he joined Maelgwn in the main body of the vessel.

The gangway rose to close behind him and vanish into the infrastructure.

‘Thankfully my Lord values my services enough to award me such comfort when I am about his errands. Please make yourself at home whilst I have a word with our pilot.’

‘I saw you in the dock earlier, on my way to Marduk,’ Maelgwn stated as he took a seat, delaying his escort’s departure. ‘There was a woman with you?’

‘A woman!’ Cornelin echoed, sounding horrified by the notion. ‘No … you were mistaken,’ he assured Maelgwn. ‘And you really must excuse me.’ Cornelin backed up, bowing politely before scurrying off towards the rear of the ship where he disappeared into a cabin.

‘How curious?’ Maelgwn considered in the wake of his guide’s departure. Was he missing Tory so much that he had simply imagined her?

‘We’ve arrived, Dragon.’ Cornelin advised, and Maelgwn awoke to find his escort staring down at him, smiling broadly.

‘What happened?’ Maelgwn mumbled, as his mouth didn’t seem to be connecting with his brain. He felt groggy and disorientated.

‘You’ll probably feel a bit groggy and disorientated,’ Cornelin advised. ‘That’s perfectly normal.’

‘Perfectly normal for what, Cornelin?’ Maelgwn attempted to raise himself from the lounge with little success. ‘What did you do to me?’

‘We put you into a state of stasis. Don’t you remember?’

Maelgwn dwelt on the query a moment, becoming ever more irritated. ‘No … I don’t!’

Cornelin rolled his eyes as if put out at having to refresh his memory. ‘When I came back from visiting the captain, I advised you that, as only the Nefilim could travel the wormhole out of stasis, we had to put you under and you agreed.’

‘Why only the Nefilim, because they are immortal?’ Maelgwn queried.

‘That does seem to be their defining feature.’ His escort raised both brows, appearing a little concerned. ‘I had wondered what effect stasis would have on a Homo sapiens,’ Cornelin said with more interest. ‘Now I guess we know.’ He attempted to lighten the heavy air of mistrust that had descended with a smile. ‘We don’t get many like you, you see. Where could Marduk possibly have dug you up from?’

A curious question, thought Maelgwn. ‘Unfortunately, my memory has been erased in my travels.’ He pleaded dumb.

‘So you were abducted from your home planet then?’ Cornelin supposed.

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Maelgwn. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘How awful,’ Cornelin sympathised, and Maelgwn really couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not.

‘Well, you should be feeling a bit more yourself now.’ His guide slapped his hands together to get them mobile. ‘My Lord Gibal awaits thee.’

As Maelgwn moved to raise himself, his thought wave neutraliser fell open on his wrist, and that disturbed him. He locked the wristband closed and looked to Cornelin, who stared at him blankly.

‘Is something amiss?’ he queried.

If Cornelin had read his thoughts as he slept, then why was he asking so many curious questions? ‘Nothing amiss,’ Maelgwn resolved. ‘Just getting my bearings.’

‘I am at your leisure, Dragon.’ The dignitary looked about the cabin, seeming bored with hanging about.

‘Alright Cornelin.’ Maelgwn stood up and motioned his guide to carry out his duty. ‘Lead away.’

Maelgwn exited the craft behind Cornelin to behold the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. The sky above was water. Beautiful aqua ripples lapped at an enormous dome that Maelgwn guessed encompassed an entire city. Large sea creatures and schools of fish swam overhead.

‘It’s not much,’ commented Cornelin when he noted Maelgwn’s wonder, ‘but it’s home.’ He smiled with satisfaction. ‘The seaside here is a truly amazing place.’

‘I can’t imagine,’ Maelgwn confessed honestly, his eyes still upturned to the wonder overhead. ‘I hope I shall get to see it.’

‘I shall arrange it myself,’ assured Cornelin, getting them moving once more.

Indoors was a loading bay where a transporter beam took them straight to the Lord Gibal’s chambers.

The room where they alighted was by all appearances an audience chamber. Fish tanks of all shapes and sizes were built into the architecture, and here and there lounges and tables were suspended around the chamber.

A large arched inset in the farthest wall vanished to reveal Gibal wiping his hands with a grimy cloth. This Lord was not a warrior figure like his older brother Marduk — Gibal was as tall, but of a much slighter form. In his long, dark robes he appeared rather like a monk as he descended a few stairs to join them in the lounge. The technologist had a hardened look about him, although the features of his face were pixie-like, similar to Keridwen’s. His cropped brown hair and dark steely eyes added to his sour appearance. Still, Gibal gave off his own illumination as did the rest of his kin, and the whites of his eyes had a mesmerising glow. Thank you, Cornelin. He dismissed his advisor to speak with his new bodyguard alone.

As Cornelin stepped onto the transporter plate, he looked to his Lord to plead: ‘You wouldn’t —’

Leave the matter with me, Gibal advised firmly, whereby his servant made himself absent.

So, Dragon. My brother has awarded you the daunting task of protecting my research? He looked back to Maelgwn and eyed him keenly.

‘More specifically,’ Maelgwn corrected, ‘he has sent me to urge you to move your laboratory to where it shall be safest and remove the risk factor altogether.’

Gibal roused half a smile and then shrugged. The Pantheon would only come looking for me … whereupon the Nefilim would be plunged back into an age-old blood feud. It has been peaceful lately. I just want to savour that harmony a little longer.

Maelgwn, having ruled a kingdom for twenty years, could relate to the Lord’s reasoning.

Your kind is going to create an uproar, that’s for sure. Gibal shook his head, impressed, as he viewed one of his brother’s Chosen.

Maelgwn looked back to the vacated transporter plate and changed the subject. ‘How long has Cornelin been in your service?’

You suspect him of treachery, already! Gibal sounded rather sceptical. Because Cornelin knocked you out for the flight here without your consent?

‘Yes.’ Maelgwn was curious to know how Gibal knew about it.

He confessed as much to me before we brought you round.

‘And did he give an explanation as to why he did this?’

Cornelin seems to have this fanciful notion that you would have some interest in his niece, or rather she in you. Thus, Cornelin put you in stasis to prevent her from making your acquaintance.

‘There was a woman with him,’ Maelgwn uttered under his breath, he knew he hadn’t imagined it.

I have told Cornelin, however, that as his niece is my personal assistant and you are now my personal bodyguard, it shall be impossible for you and Aquilla not to associate. I am sure we both realise why there couldn’t possibly be any personal issue between yourself and one of the local breed … thus, I am assuring Cornelin he need have no fear in that regard.

‘But why should Cornelin even suspect such a thing, when I have never even met his niece?’ Maelgwn probed, avoiding Gibal’s supposition.

Apparently, you are the very image of her mate who was killed tragically some time ago.

She is Tory. Maelgwn’s excitement was momentary and quickly overrun by dread.

But, be that as it may, I expect you shall handle any confusion Aquilla may experience upon meeting you in a kind but professional manner. Gibal expression was solemn and demanded a response.

‘Of course,’ Maelgwn replied, as the situation set his mind off in a whirl of speculation.

Good, Gibal was satisfied. Aquilla is very dear to me, so the last thing I need is for her to fall from grace in the eyes of the Pantheon.

‘I understand.’ Maelgwn bowed his head, praying to the Goddess that he could keep the vow he was making.

Once this mutual agreement was reached, Gibal summoned a young Delphinus male named Uriah. To do this the Lord simply placed one hand over a brooch that was pinned to the front-left shoulder of his robes, and silently issued his command. The Lord explained to Maelgwn that Uriah would act as his squire and guide during his stay on Lura.

Whilst they awaited the lad’s arrival, Gibal outlined the way things were going to operate. One of his first conditions was that no one but himself and Aquilla entered his lab.

‘And now me,’ Maelgwn insisted.

I assure you, Dragon, my lab is impenetrable. Guarding me whilst I am at work is a complete waste of time.

‘If that were the case, my Lord Gibal,’ Maelgwn cut in, ‘and as you do spend a good deal of your time in the lab, I doubt my Lord would have gone to the trouble of sending me.’

Dragon, please, Gibal insisted, becoming somewhat annoyed. If you are privy to my work, you also become subject to being probed for information about it.

‘I do not fear death, Gibal, you know that.’

There are worse fates than death, Dragon, and my relatives are familiar with every one of them. If any of my kin discover the extent of your resilience, I dare say we’ll be in more trouble than we are at present.

‘I assure you, my Lord, I shall not award our enemy that opportunity.’

Gibal raised both brows at the warrior’s undaunted manner. Against my kindred, confidence in your own ability is not enough.

‘My Lord.’ Maelgwn decided to cut through the small-talk and get to the heart of the matter. ‘Should the worst happen, I shall be tortured in order to establish how much I know. Whether I have access to the lab will be irrelevant; the truth about me shall be known. I understand that the last thing you want is someone watching over your shoulder while you work, and I can allow for that, but I must insist on having access to you all day, every day.’ The Lord still appeared hesitant, and there was only one reason why that Maelgwn could conceive of. ‘I would rot for all eternity in darkness before I would betray my kind, Gibal … I will protect my lover and my children no matter what the cost to myself.’ Maelgwn removed the thought wave neutraliser from his wrist and held out a hand to Gibal. ‘If you doubt my conviction to the cause, my Lord, please check for yourself.’

Upon sparing a thought for his other fears regarding Cornelin’s niece, Maelgwn regretted making the offer, but did not retract it. Gibal stared at him for some time. Perhaps the Lord was as psychically advanced as Taliesin and could read the thoughts of others from a distance; Maelgwn hoped not.

I believe you, Gibal conceded, although he still did not seem entirely set at ease.

‘There is some other concern then?’ Maelgwn appealed, wanting the Lord to be completely comfortable with their arrangement.

My concern is not your fault, Dragon, the technologist raised a smile to assure him. I know you are courageous, loyal and wise … but you are also ignorant of the ways and means of the Nefilim.

This reason came as a relief to Maelgwn, for this matter could be remedied. ‘Then I trust my Lord will educate me,’ he clipped the thought wave neutraliser back onto his wrist. ‘For, in all honesty, what better tutor could I have than the head of technology?’

Gibal was flattered, but still maintained a wary mood. Shamash and Inanna have their own technologists specialising in primitive means of torture, the like of which obviously doesn’t interest me. Still, all our higher technology stems from yours truly, and I have other devices in development that even your Lord doesn’t know about.

Maelgwn understood by this confession that Gibal was taking him into his confidence. ‘I was assigned to protect your research, my Lord Gibal. To disclose information to anyone would be contrary to my mission directive, would it not?’

For the first time since they’d met, Gibal smiled sincerely. Perhaps we can really make something of our association after all, Dragon.

‘That is my wish,’ Maelgwn bowed slightly to assure him. Gibal produced a hand-held device from the folds of his robes.

This is a PKA locator. He handed the device to Maelgwn. It is a prototype and is the only one in existence, so guard it well. Used in concert with your physical teleportation ability, this will enable you to locate me without fail.

‘But my ability alone allows me to do that?’ Maelgwn frowned with curiosity as he checked out the tracking device.

The device you were sent here to keep secure casts a protective shield over the subject so that he cannot be sought via PK ability alone. Such a shield also protects my lab. There are numerous other nasty scenarios whereby an added tracking device could come in useful and I feel safer knowing you have possession of such a safeguard.

‘So by what means does this locate its subject?’

I don’t mean to seem distrusting, Gibal advised, but it is better you know only that it will serve you if required.

Maelgwn accepted this and as he committed the device to a spare pocket on his belt, he noted the transporter plate had lit up to deliver his squire.

As the lad materialised, Maelgwn could hardly believe his eyes. In the blue-skinned, silver-haired lad before him he saw his squire of old, Selwyn.

‘I apologise for taking so long, Lord, I was just —’

Spare us, Uriah, Gibal interrupted, whereby the squire humbled himself. Your timing is perfect. Please show the Dragon to his quarters here. He might also desire a bit of a tour of our establishment.

‘I trust my accommodation is close to yours?’ Maelgwn asked Gibal, who nodded to confirm this.

The technologist then stepped forward and attached a brooch to the front-left shoulder of Maelgwn’s suit. Should I require your services, Dragon, this will let you know.

‘You shall see me as soon as I familiarise myself with the premises.’ Maelgwn made it clear that Gibal was not going to shake his surveillance that easily.

‘Welcome to the team, Dragon,’ said Gibal as his new bodyguard followed Uriah onto the transporter plate.

‘Your quarters, En Dragon,’ Uriah announced, motioning to an open, arched doorway across the hall from the transporter plate where they’d manifested.

Maelgwn was turning in circles, viewing the hallway architecture. The white walls rounded into an arched roof, which had skylights all the way along the curving corridor. This made the most of what natural light there was filtering down from the watery dome above. ‘Fantastic,’ he uttered, staring up through one of the elongated transparent features overhead.

Uriah seemed to find Maelgwn’s obvious wonder amusing, and waited patiently by the door for him to get over it. ‘Here on Lura every room has an ocean view.’

‘I’ve always loved the ocean,’ Maelgwn followed the lad into the chamber, ‘and this place certainly allows a rare perspective of it.’

‘I find the sky far more amazing, myself,’ commented Uriah.

‘I wouldn’t think you’d get to see much of that here.’ Maelgwn gazed around at his new abode, finding it warm and welcoming.

As with all Nefilim construction, everything about the room was curved and rounded off — no sharp edges, no straight lines.

‘Actually, we do get to study the sky here,’ Uriah enlightened his charge, as he passed through an arch onto the balcony. ‘At low tide the water level drops below the top of the dome exposing our city to the wide open spaces above. This occurrence awards us spectacular views of both the day and night sky here on Lura. We even see rain sometimes.’

‘Wow,’ said Maelgwn in response to the information, trying to sound as thrilled about it as his squire obviously was. After fifty years of life in Gwynedd, Maelgwn would have been quite happy never to see rain again.

The balcony hosted a view across the city and the outlying mountains, parks and sand dunes to where the invisible dome that surrounded the city met the water and held it at bay. In the middle of the city stood a huge pyramid, the walls of which were entirely transparent. Steps on all four sides of the structure led to a plateau.

‘Is that a place of worship?’ Maelgwn pointed to the central city feature.

‘In a way,’ Uriah smiled. ‘That is what we call the Stargaze temple. At low tide that is where the best view of the sky is to be had. People picnic on the large plateau atop the pyramid, and the stairways that ascend up all four sides of the structure. Inside the pyramid is a marketplace, where there are also several nice places to sit and observe.’

‘I very much look forward to witnessing all the activity,’ Maelgwn assured Uriah as they moved back indoors.

Laid out on a table in the main living area was a platter of seafood garnished with fruit. ‘Will you join me for something to eat?’ Maelgwn took a seat in front of the feast.

‘I have already eaten.’ Uriah declined politely. ‘But as you have had such a long flight, I expected that you would be starving by now.’

That was the funny thing. Maelgwn hadn’t even thought about food — perhaps his immortal state of being made it non-essential.

‘I shall leave you to recuperate.’ As Maelgwn was about to protest, his squire was quick to add: ‘Just touch your communicator and think of me as soon as you are ready for a tour of the complex.’

After Uriah had gone, Maelgwn considered that the lad was far more confident and outgoing than Selwyn had been at the same age. Perhaps the Delphinus matured more quickly than Homo sapiens, or had a different ageing process? His memory implant told Maelgwn that he was right on both counts. Due to their telepathic ability, Delphinus children matured far more quickly than Homo sapiens offspring. Their lifespan was usually longer than the Homo sapiens of Maelgwn’s day and age, thanks to a better diet and their aquatic lifestyle.

Maelgwn had consumed a good part of the seafood and fruit platter and he was of a mind to call his squire back when he recalled the memory recorder pertaining to Taliesin’s reports on his kin back in Gwynedd that the Lord Marduk had given him. He knew before he even put the thought-band on that the accounts it contained were going to make him homesick. Still, as it was hard to foresee when he might have a quiet moment to himself again, it seemed to be a case of now or never.

As well as Rhun’s wedding, and the births of Maelgwn’s daughter, Rhiannon, and grandson, Cadwell, the thought recorder also contained footage of Maelgwn’s funeral, Rhun’s inauguration, and his son’s account of his quest into the Otherworld.

Rhun advised the men gathered at his initiation ceremony at Llyn Cerrig Bach that his father, meaning Maelgwn, had come forward to lead him to his otherworldly meeting with the Goddess. Maelgwn knew that this had not been the case. His inner knowing told him that it had been Gwyn ap Nudd in the guise of Rhun’s father who had led the young Prince to the Otherworld to receive right of passage. Hence, Maelgwn had to figure that it had not been his deceased mother, Sorcha, who had led him to the Goddess during his own inauguration ceremony, but the Night Hunter disguised as the person Maelgwn trusted most.

When the thought recorder abruptly switched off Maelgwn found himself in a highly agitated state, having just experienced every uplifting emotion known to man. His return to reality was a rude awakening; his wondrous surroundings felt foreign now, and Maelgwn had not felt this alone and alienated since before he’d met the love of his life.

Only creation knows how I miss her. He clung to his sadness a moment, before releasing it back to the universe with love via three deep breaths.

Maelgwn paged his squire to prevent himself stewing over the past, but his lover’s memory lingered as he awaited his tour guide. He had so many happy memories of Tory to choose from, and his heart soured as he suddenly recalled Marduk saying that he could experience Tory anew via at least two other incarnations he’d had. But such leisure activities would have to be reserved for when he finally enticed Gibal back to the Aten. Maelgwn needed to focus on the mission at hand and could not allow his pursuit of Tory to become a distraction which, judging from the band he held in his hand, could become more like an obsession if he allowed it. He suspected this was the reason Marduk had supplied him with the band in the first place. More than a gift, Maelgwn suspected it was a test.

‘I am in control,’ Maelgwn assured himself, folding the band away and attaching it to his belt along with all his other apparatus — half of which he still hadn’t familiarised himself with, thanks to being knocked unconscious for the flight here. The reason Cornelin had given for his actions on that count led Maelgwn to wonder about the female they called Aquilla.

‘Aquilla,’ he uttered the name, finding it pleasing. ‘No. Don’t go there.’ Maelgwn snapped himself out of his Tory-induced delirium and stood to discipline himself. ‘I will maintain control, and I will not wonder about her. For she is no concern of mine …’

The brief glimpse he’d been allowed of the woman in question came back to haunt him.

‘… and can never be,’ Maelgwn concluded with regret.

12

Object of Desire

Gibal’s Technological Advancement complex was an expansive and amazing building; there were many different projects being developed therein by Delphinus scholars, the progress of which was constantly monitored by their Lord and instructor.

The Operations Centre of the city was also housed in this complex. The dome, oxygen levels, climate, security, power and all other communications for the city were monitored and attended to by different departments within Gibal’s headquarters.

‘So tell me, Uriah. What do you do here?’ Maelgwn wondered what kept his squire amused when he wasn’t running around after him.

‘Pretty much what am I doing right now … protocol. I assist Cornelin. My calling is not so dissimilar from yours, En Dragon,’ he supposed, ‘except that I am not required to have heroic tendencies.’

‘What makes you think I have heroic tendencies?’ Maelgwn mocked the lad’s observation.

Uriah stepped away from his charge and eyed him with a vague look on his face. ‘It’s hard to say, but … I think all that hardware you carry might have something to do with it.’

‘You think it’s a bit excessive?’ Maelgwn threw his arms wide as he stepped backwards and was startled when he collided with someone.

‘Watch out!’ Aquilla turned to reprimand the clumsy fool who’d nearly caused her to drop her precious cargo. ‘This is a very … rare … stone …’ Her anger faded along with her ability to speak, as she registered the face of her deceased lover. Of course, she knew immediately that this could not be him — the man before her was very obviously Homo sapiens — but the resemblance made her jaw drop.

‘My sincerest apologies.’ Maelgwn backed away to collide with another passerby. He apologised again and kept moving.

Uriah was breathing a quiet sigh of relief in the wake of the near miss, as he had told Cornelin that he would do his best to make sure the Dragon and Aquilla did not meet.

‘Uriah.’ Aquilla postponed his escape. ‘Who was that?’

‘Ask your uncle, or the Lord Gibal,’ he suggested, ducking away before he caused himself any grief.

‘I was asking you!’ she called after him, sounding a little annoyed.

Uriah ignored Aquilla to catch up to his charge. ‘I know it’s not my place to lecture you on diplomacy, En Dragon, but that was a little bit rude, don’t you think?’

That was the trouble, Maelgwn wasn’t thinking; the sudden chance meeting had thrown him completely. He needed more time to build up his defences, that much was obvious, for a clear image of Aquilla’s face had formed in his mind and was already urging him toward further investigation.

‘Desperate circumstances call for desperate measures,’ Maelgwn advised.

Uriah didn’t understand the Dragon’s reasons, but he agreed wholeheartedly nonetheless.

‘You must keep me away from that woman at all costs.’ Maelgwn made Uriah swear he would do his best.

‘If that is your wish.’ Uriah couldn’t believe his luck. With the Dragon’s cooperation his vow to Cornelin would be much easier to keep.

The only approach to Gibal’s lab was down a long corridor, with guarded doors at each end. There was no transporter plate inside this top security area, nor, as Gibal had explained earlier, was there any PK teleportation access.

Uriah was permitted to escort his charge to the inner doors, where a short muscle-bound guard stood at his post.

As Maelgwn looked over the first Delphinus warrior he had encountered, he noted there was something very familiar about the stance of this fellow. ‘Oh no!’ Maelgwn smiled as he drew nearer the guard, for the soul before him was none other than Calin Brockwell. His silvery-white hair made him appear more like Brian Alexander, who was Calin’s twentieth century incarnation and Tory’s brother. ‘Let me guess,’ he put to Uriah. ‘Aquilla’s brother.’

Uriah winked as he gave a nod. ‘The bravest warrior on the planet, and another very good reason to steer clear of Aquilla. Zerrah!’ Uriah called the guard by name and waved to him as they approached.

‘This is highly unusual, Uriah.’ Zerrah moved to confront the intruders. He ignored Maelgwn completely and directed his queries to the soul more familiar to him.

‘I am delivering the Dragon to the Lord Gibal, as requested,’ Uriah advised.

‘So … you are the one the Lord Gibal feels can protect him better than I?’ Zerrah was most perturbed until he raised his eyes to look Maelgwn in the face. ‘Durak,’ he gasped, stunned into backing up a few paces, whereupon he shook his head to get a grip on the situation. ‘But of course that can’t be?’

Maelgwn maintained the same delighted smile. ‘I assure you, Zerrah, you are also very familiar to me.’

Zerrah gave a vague nod, obviously disturbed by this unexpected development. He looked back to Uriah, feeling more comfortable conversing with him. ‘Has my sister met —’ He pointed to the Homo sapiens.

‘You could say they’ve bumped into each other,’ Uriah explained. ‘We were in a bit of rush, unfortunately, so I didn’t really get the chance to introduce them.’

‘That’s good.’ Zerrah patted the younger man on the shoulder before turning to the Dragon to explain himself. ‘What I mean to say is, I don’t think my sister would take to you very kindly.’

‘Why so?’ Maelgwn couldn’t resist exposing the warrior’s lie. ‘Wasn’t your sister married to this Durak fellow?’

Zerrah nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘Absolutely not! Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘Yes.’ Uriah was just as shocked by the Dragon’s statement. ‘What indeed?’

Maelgwn raised both brows to call Zerrah’s bluff. ‘That is what the Lord Gibal told me.’

‘Oh.’ Zerrah didn’t feel he could really contest his Lord’s word. Still, if he couldn’t trick the Dragon into steering clear of his sister, he’d just intimidate him into it. ‘Well then, monkey man, let me put it this way … go anywhere near my sister and I shall not take to you very kindly. As head of security here, I have eyes and ears everywhere —’

‘Zerrah, it is the Dragon’s wish to avoid Aquilla,’ Uriah advised so that Zerrah might dispense with the unpleasantness, but instead Zerrah took offence.

‘And why is that?’ He confronted Maelgwn again. ‘She is the most sought-after woman in the city!’

Maelgwn just couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. Zerrah was so like Brockwell that he couldn’t help but be pleased to see him again. ‘It is because she is the most beautiful woman in the city that I wish to keep my distance,’ Maelgwn appeased the proud brother, ‘for I am a happily married man.’

‘Excellent!’ Zerrah backed off at once and motioned the Dragon to proceed. ‘Then I shall not detain you any longer.’

‘Most appreciated.’ Maelgwn turned to his squire to bid him good day. ‘I could be here awhile, so feel free to be about whatever it is you normally do.’

‘That would be nothing,’ Zerrah scoffed, as he returned to his post.

‘That I shall.’ Uriah ignored the guard. ‘If you require me for any reason —’

‘I’ll holler.’ Maelgwn gave him a final wave. ‘Many thanks for the tour.’

The large dark door at the end of the hallway vanished upon Maelgwn’s approach, granting him entry into the most restricted area in the city.

Gibal’s laboratory was the biggest single room Maelgwn had ever seen, even larger than Marduk’s Star Chamber. In fact, it appeared so immense that Maelgwn could only assume that he was beneath the city. The location of the Lord’s lab was something Uriah had failed to comment on and, as they taken the teleporter here, Maelgwn realised he was still oblivious as to where it was located in the technological complex.

Where Maelgwn entered there was row upon row of identical, tall, rectangular-shaped machines — although the machines on his left differed slightly in appearance to those on his right. Maelgwn’s implanted data advised that the machines that towered over him to the left were generators, which were powering the equally tall processors to his right.

Where the rows of machinery came to an end there was a huge area that was rather reminiscent of an amphitheatre. Inside this great space many different inventions were in progress and these were being tended to by numerous artificial arms that sprouted from several small airborne platforms — each of the artificial arms ended in a different tool in place of a hand. Gibal hovered high above all this activity on his own floating platform, controlling all that took place below.

As the Lord appeared rather tied up at present, Maelgwn decided to wait until Gibal addressed him. Gibal was obviously aware that he had company; it could only have been he who had admitted Maelgwn.

Beyond Gibal’s enormous work space, up near the ceiling at the far end of the lab, was what appeared to be another operations room. Maelgwn failed to see what this large observation chamber would be used for and headed around all the works in progress to investigate.

Uriah made a move to return to his duties, when the first set of entrance doors at the far end of the passage opened and Aquilla entered the long corridor.

Upon spying Uriah, Aquilla briskly made her way down to the main lab door to question the young official about this morning’s chance encounter.

‘O-oh.’ Uriah did an about-face and headed back to Zerrah, seeking protection. ‘She’s going to question me about the Dragon,’ he advised in a panic.

‘I shall handle my sister,’ Zerrah informed. ‘When she reaches us, take your leave.’

‘Good plan,’ Uriah agreed, most relieved.

‘Just the man I want to see,’ Aquilla stated upon approach.

‘Uriah was just leaving …’ Zerrah cued him, whereby Uriah gave a slight bow to them both and headed back down the corridor as fast as his legs could walk.

‘Now hold on!’ Aquilla moved to go after her uncle’s assistant.

‘The man you seek is inside the lab with the Lord Gibal.’ Zerrah regained his sister’s full attention with the comment. ‘He is known only as the Dragon, and is to be Gibal’s constant bodyguard.’

‘Gibal has admitted him into the lab?’ Aquilla could not help but grin — the Dragon would be forced to keep her company a good deal of the time.

‘I know what you are thinking, Aquilla,’ Zerrah cautioned her.

‘I seriously doubt that,’ she advised.

‘This monkey man is not Durak.’ Zerrah voiced his belief.

Aquilla shrugged this off as an insignificant detail.

‘The Dragon is also a happily married man,’ Zerrah added.

‘How do you know?’ Aquilla’s good mood departed abruptly.

Zerrah smiled, having thwarted any seduction plans that his sister may have been hatching. ‘Because he told me so.’

Aquilla was furious, as she smelt a conspiracy. She would have placed both her hands on her hips, but one was still nursing her precious stone. ‘And how, may I ask, did you get onto the subject of his marital status?’

‘Just polite conversation,’ Zerrah advised in a smug fashion.

‘You had a polite conversation with the man who just walked into the position of trust with Lord Gibal that you’ve always aspired to?’ Aquilla made it plain she didn’t buy his story. ‘Thanks for nothing.’

Aquilla had a particular hurt tone to her voice, one that never failed to make Zerrah feel he was letting her down. But as he knew he was acting in his sister’s best interests, he refrained from apologising. ‘You’re welcome,’ he told her outright, before mumbling to himself: ‘The very idea is completely disgusting.’

‘Racist!’ Aquilla accused, having caught the comment.

‘I wasn’t referring to sexual relations with another human breed so much as the horrendous consequences it can have on any offspring that might be produced as a result,’ Zerrah informed her harshly, for he knew Aquilla couldn’t be thinking straight if she was already entertaining the idea of an affair with the familiar-looking foreigner.

Aquilla was quite affronted by his argument. ‘That is hardly an issue that concerns me.’ She backed up and turned abruptly to head into the lab.

‘I’m sorry, that was a thoughtless remark, Aquilla,’ Zerrah said before she entered. ‘I know this could be tough on you, so if you need me —’

As the door vanished Aquilla stepped beyond it. ‘You said it yourself, Zerrah, he is not Durak. End of story.’

The metal barricade reappeared, closing her off from Zerrah and any further comment he may have had.

Halfway around the lab amphitheatre Maelgwn was confronted by a huge device that looked rather like some sort of gigantic gun. It was mounted on a huge rotating platform, and unlike the other inventions in progress, Gibal did not have any automated hands working on this one.

That is one of Aquilla’s projects. Gibal startled Maelgwn with the information, having descended in his control chair to take up a position right behind him.

‘It looks very impressive,’ Maelgwn replied. ‘Can I ask what it is?’

‘It’s a wormhole stabiliser,’ Aquilla advised. ‘Or at least, it will be, if I ever get it working.’

As Maelgwn turned to view her properly for the first time, Aquilla took his breath away.

Besides having the distinguishing features of her race, this woman was Tory, although she was of slighter build. Her long, straight hair was even fairer than his wife’s had been and Aquilla wore her great mass of hair piled up in a ponytail that sprouted from just behind the blowhole in her crown. As with her brother, Aquilla’s head was shaved smooth from each temple into a V-shape at her crown. She was attired in the same kind of suit as Maelgwn, only Aquilla’s attire was the same pale blue colour as her eyes.

‘Is that what your precious stone is for?’ Maelgwn decided to sidestep discussing their embarrassing collision this morning.

Aquilla shook her head as she approached to show him the jewel he had nearly destroyed. ‘I am hoping that the chaotic symmetry of this crystal will help me with a little energy problem I’ve been having with one of my other projects. The atoms of this crystalline substance violate a fundamental theorem of crystallography, as they have an impossible five-fold symmetry.’

Upon viewing the pentagonal stone, Maelgwn was struck by an extraordinary feeling of recognition. A memory of Tory that was not from his lifetime in Gwynedd presented itself in his mind, and the image was so strong that it blurred his sight for a moment.

You got it working, she said, gazing proudly at him. You solved the power problem, didn’t you?

Maelgwn wasn’t too sure what the memory represented as it faded and he was left standing in the present. ‘Quasi-crystal,’ he mumbled, before he even realised that he had.

‘Yes, that’s right.’ Aquilla was stunned. ‘How did you know?’

Maelgwn only shrugged in response, for in truth he wasn’t too sure himself.

‘The problem I am having with the negative quantum field of the stabiliser is another story.’ Aquilla referred Maelgwn back to the huge gun-like invention. ‘But if I can solve the conundrum it would enable us to create our own wormholes to whatever destination in the universe we choose.’

Maelgwn seemed confused by her words. ‘But didn’t I travel through a wormhole to get here?’

That wormhole has existed for eons, Gibal intervened to explain. Aquilla is talking about creating temporary wormholes so that we are no longer limited to only travelling to star systems that enter and exit at existing wormholes.

As Maelgwn nodded his understanding, Aquilla continued the discussion. ‘At the moment, I can’t get the anti-gravity field intense enough to stop the throat of the wormhole collapsing.’ She appeared baffled but unfazed.

‘Well,’ Maelgwn wound up their conversation, as the Lord Gibal was watching him very closely, ‘I wish you every success.’

‘Aquilla.’ She introduced herself as it was apparent that nobody else was going to do it.

‘Forgive me.’ Maelgwn realised he was being rude, again.

This is the Dragon, Gibal cut in, and he will be guarding me until such time as a certain commission has been completed.

‘If this your first visit to Mazua, you must allow me to show you some of the sights.’

Mazua meant ‘deep-water vessel’ and was the name of Gibal’s underwater city here on Lura.

Maelgwn wasn’t too sure how to respond to Aquilla’s kind invitation, but Gibal spoke up before he was given the chance to accept or decline.

Uriah will take care of any inquiries the Dragon may have, and he shall have very little recreation time while he is here.

As Aquilla appeared rather disappointed by the information, Maelgwn added, ‘It was very nice of you to offer in any case.’

Now, Dragon … Gibal demanded his bodyguard’s attention. You were interested in my control deck. He motioned to the large observation chamber near the ceiling at the far end of the lab, and steered his floating operations chair in that direction to lead the Dragon away from his assistant.

‘I was wondering after its purpose.’ Maelgwn followed Gibal to the stairway that led up to the control deck, and gave Aquilla a wave as he left her work area.

‘I’ll be seeing you.’ Aquilla called, and turned her attention to her project.

In Maelgwn’s view, Aquilla didn’t seem half as bemused by his presence as everyone who knew her had expected her to be. Maybe this assignment wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d first imagined.

‘You referred to this chamber as a control deck,’ Maelgwn said as he scaled the stairs. ‘But a control deck to what?’

Gibal’s seat floated right beside the Dragon as he answered his queries. Why, to this ship, of course.

The claim stopped Maelgwn in his tracks. ‘Are you saying the whole of Mazua is a transporter?’ Well, that certainly explained the significance of the city’s name.

I am, Gibal confirmed with a grin, amused by Maelgwn’s astonishment. But, as the control centre is not in use at present, I thought it might serve as a good office for you.

As the arched inset in the wall at the top of the stairs vanished to grant them entry, the Lord Gibal manoeuvred his hovering seat to follow the Dragon inside.

The control centre was massive, although Gibal assured him that only one particular section would be of interest to the Dragon at this stage, and that was the surveillance desk. The screens here permitted views of the docking bay and entrance doors to Gibal’s area, as well as of the operations centres for the dome, climate, security, power and communications for Mazua. The surveillance desk was positioned in front of the huge windows that overlooked Gibal’s lab.

‘This set-up should suit my purposes very well,’ Maelgwn agreed.

Then I shall return to my duties, and allow you to get on with yours, Gibal said, turning his seat around and taking his leave.

As Maelgwn got comfortable in the surveillance hot seat, he couldn’t help but note the view of Aquilla’s work area. ‘What a wonderful aspect, indeed.’

One full day and night on Lura was the equivalent of 28 hours on Gaia, but the daylight hours far exceeded the night at this time of year. As King of Gwynedd, Maelgwn had always said there were never enough hours in the day, but here on Lura that was not a problem. Everyone worked longer hours, but they also had more leisure time too.

As promised, Gibal awarded Maelgwn a good insight into his family whilst he worked. And when Aquilla was absent from the lab the Lord took advantage of having another immortal present and began testing the capabilities of his NERGUZ prototype. Maelgwn didn’t mind being Gibal’s test subject as it gave him something interesting and beneficial to do. Still, having experienced being controlled by another and having learned a little about the nature of some of Gibal’s kin, Maelgwn didn’t fancy the idea of what might happen if this weapon was to fall into the hands of tyrants. Yet, in the hands of a good man, the NERGUZ could be a wonderful healing tool — much like hypnosis could be to a mortal man.

For the first week of his mission, Maelgwn watched Gibal like a hawk. Even when the Lord rested, Maelgwn would take up station in the adjoining room and wait for Gibal to emerge the next day. After a week of constant surveillance, the Lord had had about as much as he could stand.

Dragon, isn’t it time you took a break? Gibal broached the subject over dinner one evening. It’s not that I don’t cherish your company and protection, but you are here to guard my work, not my person.

‘Thank you for the concern,’ Maelgwn refused to take the hint, ‘but I am fine.’

No, you’re not fine, Gibal stressed, ever so slightly. And what’s more, I am not fine. I am in no danger and, therefore, when I am not working, and you can find me with a thought, there is really no reason to be so vigilant.

‘If my Lord is not happy with our arrangement,’ Maelgwn sat forward in his seat to suggest, ‘perhaps you should take up the subject with mission control.’

I have already done so, and it was agreed that when I am at liberty, so should you be, Gibal advised.

Maelgwn didn’t like to question the Lord’s word but how could he be sure that this wasn’t just a convenient lie? ‘And I have your word that this directive is as you say?’

You do, Gibal answered surely, before raising both brows to suggest, Believe it or not Dragon, I have been taking care of myself since before you were born, in any lifetime.

Gibal succeeded in making Maelgwn feel like the young pup he was.

So, after dinner you shall go see the city sights, relax in your own quarters, or whatever it is you see fit to do. Gibal wiped his mouth with a napkin, then placed it aside. Every living being needs its own space, including you and I.

Maelgwn raised himself from Gibal’s table, feeling that he had little choice but to agree. ‘As you wish, my Lord. But at the first sign of anything unusual —’

Dragon. Gibal cut him short, smiling with amusement. The whole point of this exercise is for you to relax.

‘In truth, my Lord, I feel far more at ease with you in my sight,’ Maelgwn informed.

Well, I don’t. Gibal accompanied his words with a convincing expression that implied there was to be no more argument. Thus, I am ordering you to enjoy yourself. And when I see you on the morrow I shall expect a full report.

Maelgwn’s concerned expression did not lift. ‘I shall do my best, my Lord.’ He bowed to his charge before departing.

In his own chambers Maelgwn meditated, and took some time to practice and hone his fighting skills and physical teleportation ability.

During his surveillance of Gibal, Maelgwn had found ample time to familiarise himself with his equipment, specifically his firearms. A swordsman of considerable experience, Maelgwn did not feel as comfortable with the PKA sonic pulse blaster as he did with the EMS Wand, which was the modern Nefilim equivalent of a baton cum sword. He’d seen a more primitive version of this weapon back in Gwynedd — one of the thirteen treasures of Britain that Taliesin guarded, the sword of Rhydderch, appeared to burst into flame when drawn for battle.

In retrospect, Maelgwn knew the sword’s fiery blade to be a laser beam. This weapon operated within an electromagnetic spectrum, meaning that the weapon’s density function was controlled by the wave length and frequency, or more obviously, the colour, of the laser. On a low wave frequency the laser assumed a deep red colour that was equivalent in density to a club or baton. Set at the highest frequency of the light spectrum, ultra-violet, the weapon’s edge would cut through most metal with as much ease as a knife through cheese. Around the middle of the light spectrum, when the laser glowed green, the cutting edge was equal to that of the steel sword Maelgwn had wielded in the Dark Ages. Zerrah had proven to be a willing sparring partner and had even warmed to Maelgwn a little during their duels, for the Delphinus warrior had discovered he could hold his own against Gibal’s new bodyguard and had even managed to disarm the Dragon a couple of times. Not that this had come as any surprise to Maelgwn. Zerrah had proven himself a superior fighter in every lifetime that Maelgwn had encountered him in, and thus he was not surprised to discover that this incarnation was no exception.

Once he’d completed all the training he cared to, Maelgwn retired onto the balcony. It would be low tide soon, when the ocean’s surface would drop below the top of the city’s watery dome and expose the sky beyond — an event that he was quite looking forward to beholding.

‘Hello there.’

Aquilla startled Maelgwn as she stepped out onto his balcony to join him.

‘I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I did buzz, but there was no answer.’

‘No, not at all.’ He stood, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’ Maelgwn despised how official he sounded.

Aquilla smiled at his formal tone, and maintained her relaxed informal one. ‘It’s more what I can do for you really.’ She looked out over Mazua, towards the Stargaze Temple. ‘My uncle thought you might like to see some of the sights, and as it is Uriah’s night off, he sent me instead.’

Surely Cornelin would not have sent Aquilla to him, after going to such pains to keep Maelgwn away from her? Still, he was not about to accuse the woman of lying. ‘Nothing would please me more,’ he told her truthfully, whereby Aquilla turned back to him, well pleased. But the serious expression on his face caused the smile to slip from hers. ‘But I don’t think that our association would be very appropriate on a social level.’

‘Because of racial and gender differences or my deceased husband?’ Aquilla brought the whole mess out in the open.

‘Well,’ Maelgwn shrugged, ‘all of the above … and your overly protective brother, uncle and employer.’

Aquilla’s smile returned. ‘Their efforts are quite unnecessary. I do realise that you are not my husband, and I also understand you are married yourself. Nevertheless, I intend to prove to you, and indeed to everyone else who feels it is their business, that there is no need for you to avoid me like some sort of plague. I am really quite harmless and nice to know.’

Aquilla seemed sincerely friendly in her intent, just as Tory had in the beginning. ‘Aquilla, I am sure you are a wonderful person to know and as much as I would love to —’

‘You’re going to politely decline, aren’t you?’

Aquilla seemed as if she was going to let him off the hook and so Maelgwn nodded to take the easiest way out for all involved.

‘Oh, come on, Dragon, just this once.’ She changed her tack, her big blue eyes doing their best to sway him.

Maelgwn should have realised the universe would not allow his escape to be so simple. ‘But why, Aquilla? If you have no true interest in me, then —’

‘Now, I didn’t say that,’ she corrected, playfully. ‘My interest is intellectual.’

‘But I am not permitted to discuss anything about myself,’ he objected, inwardly tickled by her persistence.

‘I realise that,’ she stressed, grinning broadly at the obvious. ‘But we don’t have to talk about you … you could give me your first impressions of our city, as you’ve seen precious little of it yet.’

Maelgwn frowned, torn by her sweet pleas.

‘I could take you to the seaside, Cornelin mentioned you were interested in seeing it. It will be fun … you do know what fun is?’

‘Alright.’ He folded, feeling there could be little harm in it. Gibal did order him to enjoy himself and this way he would have something to report.

Aquilla slapped her hands together, delighted. ‘You won’t be sorry,’ she assured him, backing indoors to lead him towards the front door before he changed his mind.

‘Did Cornelin really send you?’ Maelgwn queried as he pursued her into the corridor.

‘He knows I am here.’ Aquilla turned to look Maelgwn in the eye. ‘I gave him a piece of my mind in regard to meddling in my private affairs and Cornelin now realises the error of his ways.’ Aquilla resumed her course to the transporter plate. ‘I know everybody means well … since Durak’s death my kin have tended to be very protective. But that was years ago now and it’s time they got over it. I have.’ As she said this, her voice went hoarse, whereupon Aquilla cleared her throat.

It was obvious to Maelgwn that the woman was lying through her teeth, and he began having second thoughts about letting himself be talked into this outing. ‘I don’t suppose you want to talk about it?’ He was dying to know what had happened to Durak, or at least what his interests were.

‘Talk won’t bring him back.’ Aquilla managed a smile. ‘And if it could, I’d be with him right now.’ She looked up into Maelgwn’s face and began to laugh.

‘What is it?’ He grinned, guessing it was his resemblance to Durak that had set her off.

‘Forgive me,’ she calmed herself. ‘But the likeness is just incredible. Do you believe in reincarnation, Dragon?’ she questioned as Maelgwn stepped onto the transporter plate beside her.

‘Most definitely,’ he assured her before they were sped to their seaside destination.

Maelgwn found himself at a deserted fringe of Mazua where the sand dunes led to the dome’s watery periphery.

‘Perfect time to visit, coming onto low tide,’ commented Aquilla, as she removed her boots and headed off across the sand. ‘Almost everyone will be preparing to head to the Stargazer.’

Perhaps I should have opted to go there, he thought, daunted by the idea of being on the deserted beach with this woman. ‘I’m not sure if this is such a good idea.’ Maelgwn glanced back towards the city centre where the dome was beginning to open to expose the clear mauve sky of late afternoon.

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, there’s nothing to fear.’ She swung around and walked backwards for a way. ‘Just watch out for sea-snakes as they’re a bit deadly.’

‘Sea-snakes?’ Maelgwn began unclipping his boots, figuring snakes were the least of his worries.

‘For some reason the dome doesn’t repel them like it does other sea creatures. We think it’s because the snakes are ground dwellers.’ Aquilla came to a standstill and waited for the Dragon to catch her up. ‘Still, I shouldn’t worry, as they rarely come into the dome this late in the evening. They like it in the morning hours when they can sun themselves on the rocks.’

Maelgwn accompanied Aquilla to the watery perimeter, where she dumped her boots and dispensed with all her little gadgets. ‘You might want to get rid of some of that hardware you carry. Your thought wave neutraliser is waterproof, as is your fighter module,’ she advised as she unzipped her jacket.

Maelgwn nearly had a stroke, until he realised she wore a full-body sleeveless swimsuit underneath her other attire.

The shock must have been apparent on his face, as Aquilla found it most amusing. ‘I find these suits too restrictive for leisure swimming and we Delphinus are always ready to take the plunge, so to speak.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Maelgwn snapped out of his stunned dilemma to remove his jacket, belt, and the firearm strapped to his thigh.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ she implored him, ‘just relax and be yourself … I promise I’m not going to jump you.’ She slapped his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Now, are you a strong swimmer?’ she asked before proceeding into the water.

He nodded. ‘I was raised by the sea, and can hold my breath for several minutes.’ The second half of the statement was a lie — as an immortal, he need not breathe at all.

‘Okay, that’s … good.’ She seemed surprised to learn that a couple of minutes of breath was all a Homo sapiens could manage to store, but did her best not to sound patronising. ‘The first thing I should instruct you on is re-entry.’

‘Good call.’ Maelgwn had to smile at the concerned expression on Aquilla’s face; it was much like a first time mother teaching a newborn to swim.

Aquilla walked up to confront the great wall of water. ‘Although the dome poses no physical barrier to humans, it does maintain a certain pressure build-up from the water it withholds.’ She placed her hands on the water wall. ‘Therefore, it just takes a little pressure to penetrate it.’ As she pushed harder, her hands and arms entered the water.

Captivated by her tutelage, Maelgwn wandered over to experience the sensation for himself.

‘You see?’ she questioned, as his upper limbs disappeared into the water up to his elbow.

‘Amazing,’ he uttered, feeling the pressure of the dome ease up around where his fingertips reached, and the drop in water temperature of a couple of degrees.

‘But once you’re in the water, your momentum needs to be stronger to penetrate back in. Watch me.’

Aquilla launched herself through the rippling wave barrier and into the open ocean beyond. She glided up and around in the crystal clear waters, before swimming back down to the ocean floor, and with a great thrust forward emerged from the watery wall to stand beside him.

‘Get my drift?’ She shook herself off, spraying Maelgwn with water in the process.

‘Hey!’ He jumped backwards, scooping a handful of water from the sea wall and casting it at Aquilla in retaliation. But before she could return his fire, Maelgwn dived through the water barrier and into the ocean beyond.

Aquilla followed him in, swimming circles around his clumsy movements. She was the very image of a sea nymph. Her ease and grace in the water would give any permanent sea dweller a good run for their money. Perhaps the mermaids of ancient legend had been the ancestor’s of Aquilla’s kind.

It was difficult not to become so captivated with this underwater experience as to forget he was supposed to be mortal and return to the dome to take a breath. Time drifted by as Maelgwn experimented, doing backflips and somersaults in and out of the dome with childlike enthusiasm and enjoyment. The sun was beginning to set now and the view of Mazua was magic from the water. Maelgwn was starting to really feel confident with this new experience of the ocean, when a huge shark came out of the darkening depths to swim by him at close quarters. The occurrence sent the warrior diving for the shelter of the dome. From the safety of the sand, Maelgwn looked back to see how Aquilla fared and found her riding around on the huge sea creature.

‘Now I’ve seen everything!’ he announced as she emerged from the water, laughing at his mystified expression.

‘Sharks are our friends,’ she informed, ‘and are especially playful on a full belly.’

‘But how do you know when they’ve already eaten?’ Maelgwn quizzed.

Aquilla pointed to her third eye, implying she obtained the information telepathically. ‘How about you?’ she queried, and slapped his belly lightly — a subtle dig at the fact that he was wearing a thought wave neutraliser, which prevented her from reading him as easily. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Sure.’ Maelgwn watched Aquilla wring the water from her white ponytail and considered that it might be wise to get in amongst a crowd.

‘Great! We can grab a shower at my place and go to the Stargazer from there.’ Aquilla collected her belongings and turned back to clarify. ‘I meant separate showers, you understand.’

‘Of course,’ said Maelgwn, although he considered the misconception to be far more appealing. ‘And you have no need to clarify yourself. I am feeling far more secure now,’ he assured her.

They made polite conversation as they trekked back over the dunes, towards the beach-front transporter plate. Just a few feet short of their destination, however, the sand moved beneath Maelgwn’s left foot and he realised he’d stumbled onto one of Aquilla’s deadly snakes. He looked down in time to see it sink its fangs into his outer ankle and, unfortunately, Aquilla saw it too.

Maelgwn cried out in pain and, raising his injured limb, with the snake still attached, drew his EMS Wand to slice the reptile in two.

‘Sit down. Keep still,’ Aquilla urged him, pulling a small device from one of her jacket pockets. ‘If we don’t remove that poison right now, it will kill you in a matter of minutes.’

Maelgwn took a peek at his ankle to find the bite was almost completely healed over. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Don’t be alarmed!’ Aquilla squatted in front of him to take charge of the situation. ‘This won’t hurt a bit.’ She grabbed his hand away and gasped when she saw the wound vanish. ‘You’re not Homo sapiens at all,’ she backed away. ‘You’re one of the Nefilim.’

The look on her face was one of horror, and yet she served a Nefilim master. As Maelgwn stood to explain, Aquilla backed up further still. ‘I am Homo sapiens … a high bred.’ Aquilla’s eyes opened wide as he said this, but not in wonder — in fear. Obviously she realised how much trouble such knowledge could bring her. ‘It was part of my mission directive to make sure that no one discovered my secret, meaning that, by rights, I should kill you,’ he announced calmly, although his heart was almost punching a hole in his chest.

‘Who can I tell?’ Aquilla implored him to reconsider, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Your secret is safe with me … I swear it!’

‘Much depends on this information remaining a secret, Aquilla. You could not imagine how many lives are at stake,’ Maelgwn stressed, closing the distance between them. He gripped hold of both Aquilla’s wrists, for he was still undecided as to what her fate should be. Now that she knew, there was a risk that other Delphinus could obtain the information from her thoughts.

‘Please, Dragon. There is a way to erase the knowledge from my memory if you’d just accompany me to Gibal’s lab.’ She made her final appeal: ‘I can mentally block anyone we meet along the way, and if you don’t trust me then give me your thought wave neutraliser.’

‘Then what shall stop your kind reading my thoughts?’ Maelgwn posed. Aquilla was openly sobbing now and having seen the concern on her face when she thought him poisoned, he could hardly take her life for trying to save his.

‘I am very good at mind control,’ she blubbered through her tears, ‘please, please, believe me.’

‘Damn it!’ He let her go, startling his captive with his outburst. Maelgwn knew in his soul that to leave her alive would be a fatal error on his part. It boiled down to a question of Tory and his children, or Aquilla? What kind of a ludicrous scenario is this? Maelgwn began to pace in an attempt to ignore his own better judgment.

‘Dragon.’ Aquilla timidly called for his attention, and he stopped still to hear what she had to say. ‘Although you are not Durak, I know that somehow his soul is kindred to yours. I loved my husband above all others and still do! There is nothing I would not have done for him. If you can believe that, then surely you realise I won’t betray you.’

Dragon, this is Gibal. The lord’s voice came through the communicator pinned to the chest of Maelgwn’s suit jacket. My lab, immediately.

‘Perfect!’ He grabbed hold of Aquilla’s arm and made for the teleporter plate. ‘I’m taking one hell of a risk.’ He held her firm as he waited to be transferred to the outer exit doors of Gibal’s lab.

‘I know it.’ She looked at him, appearing most grateful for his trust.

There was a great gaggle of guards outside the outer entrance and down the long corridor that led to the inner door to Gibal’s lab.

As Zerrah was not amongst the men present, Maelgwn charged straight through the armed forces to the lab entrance, dragging Aquilla along behind him.

Inside, as expected, Maelgwn found Gibal alone. ‘What has happened?’ He demanded to know the Lord’s grievances at once.

The NERGUZ prototype has been stolen, Gibal informed, frowning when he noted the tight grip the Dragon had on Aquilla. Would you kindly unhand my assistant.

The Lord seemed more annoyed by Aquilla’s predicament than the theft. ‘No, I will not … she has learned of my true nature and until that information has been erased from her memory, she stays with me. I could use a thought wave neutraliser, however, if you have one handy.’

How did that happen? The Lord became infuriated.

‘I think how the NERGUZ was stolen is a more pressing concern at present,’ Maelgwn snapped, annoyed by his own neglect of duty.

As the device had been developed and stored inside a force field that only Gibal knew the code to, this theft was most perplexing indeed.

Maelgwn moved closer to the hovering platform on which Gibal resided. ‘I want every launch bay pad in the city shut down.’

That has already been seen to. The Lord conjured a thought wave neutraliser from the ethers and tossed it to the Dragon. And I regret to advise that Cornelin has been murdered. Gibal looked to Aquilla, sorry to be the one to tell her, then looked back to Maelgwn. The stolen item was not on him.

‘No!’ Aquilla cried and pulled herself free from Maelgwn’s grasp as soon as the thought band was secured to her wrist. ‘Who could do such a thing?’

‘Who indeed?’ Maelgwn pondered the possibilities, which were few.

Aquilla looked to the Dragon, horrified by his intonation. ‘Surely you don’t think he was involved in the theft of this … whatever it is that’s been stolen? If I do not know what this —’ she paused to recall what Gibal had called it, ‘NERGUZ is … then I assure you that Cornelin could not have known about it.’

Maelgwn cocked an eye, considering this was not entirely true, for if Cornelin had removed his thought wave neutraliser during their flight to Lura, then he could have acquired the information then.

Aquilla decided not to waste her breath trying to convince him, and curbed her annoyance as she turned to address her Lord. ‘Where is Cornelin’s body now?’

Where we found him, in the inner launch bay area. Zerrah is at the scene and will answer any questions you may have, advised Gibal.

Aquilla looked to Maelgwn, and he agreed with a nod. ‘Let’s go.’

The scene of the crime was being guarded by Zerrah’s men. Only their captain and Uriah had been permitted anywhere near the murder site.

‘Let them through,’ Zerrah instructed, noticing the Dragon and his sister being detained by his guards.

Aquilla ran straight to where her uncle lay sprawled on the ground and crouched to look over his body for the cause of death. This information was not readily discernible, although the look on the man’s face was one of great agony. ‘Dear Cornelin. What could you have done to deserve this?’ As Aquilla mumbled the question, something twigged in her mind and she turned back to view the Dragon with a look of accusation on her face.

Maelgwn knew what Aquilla was thinking despite the thought wave neutraliser she wore. If he’d been prepared to kill her for what she’d discovered about his breeding, then he would certainly not hesitate to kill Cornelin. This led him to wonder how much Aquilla knew about her uncle’s deception of him during their trip from the Aten to Lura?

‘Do we know the cause of death?’ Maelgwn ignored Aquilla’s cool glare and addressed her brother.

Zerrah shook his head. ‘The inner lining of his throat appears to be inflamed, so some kind of poison is looking most likely. We’ll know more after the autopsy.’

Aquilla looked back to her murdered kinsman and placed a hand gently on his chest as she leaned close to him. ‘I regret that my last words to you were spent in anger. Forgive me, Cornelin, I should have listened to your advice, I fear.’

She turned her icy glare back to the Dragon as she rose, and Zerrah noted an irregularity with his sister. ‘Why are you wearing a thought wave neutraliser?’ he asked with a suspicious tone in his voice.

‘Dragon’s orders,’ she explained simply, referring the question to Maelgwn to answer.

Zerrah looked to Maelgwn for an explanation.

‘My reasons have no bearing on this case, and that’s all I am permitted to tell you,’ he informed matter of factly.

‘Or he could tell you,’ Aquilla added in a smug, annoyed fashion. ‘But then he’d have to kill you.’

Zerrah caught Aquilla’s drift and raised his firearm to defend his sister’s life. ‘Well, I don’t really care about your mission, Dragon, but I am quite fond of my sister.’

Aquilla walked around behind her brother, thankful for his concern.

‘To defy the Dragon is to defy the Lord Gibal himself,’ Uriah pointed out. ‘Lower that weapon or I shall have you arrested, Zerrah.’

‘Do we really have time for this?’ Maelgwn intervened. ‘Our murderous thief is escaping whilst we argue.’

‘Unless we already have him,’ Aquilla added, to keep her brother from lowering his defences.

‘I have been with you all evening,’ Maelgwn pointed out.

‘How long has Cornelin been dead?’ Aquilla queried her brother sideways.

‘It would have happened about three hours before low tide,’ informed Zerrah.

‘That’s before I sought you out.’ Aquilla folded her arms, even more convinced of the Dragon’s guilt. ‘So where were you then?’

‘After I left Gibal I went to my quarters and was alone until you found me,’ Maelgwn explained.

‘In other words, you have no alibi.’ Zerrah was sounding more convinced of the Dragon’s involvement.

‘That is correct.’ Maelgwn decided to cut through all the speculation. ‘But I suspect your uncle’s death is connected to another crime that I have no motive for committing. Can you say the same?’ He looked to Aquilla, raising both brows to await her response.

Obviously Aquilla had no alibi either and was enraged by his implication. ‘I did not murder my uncle,’ she stated indignantly.

‘Neither did I,’ Maelgwn advised. ‘And as none of us are going to be able to trust one another until we find the guilty party, I suggest we get on with it. If we can take this inquisition to the Lord Gibal, I feel sure he will vouch for my innocence in this affair.’

‘I feel sure he will too,’ Aquilla scoffed.

Maelgwn ignored her spiteful mood and got back to finding out the facts. ‘Have any vessels left Mazua since the time of Cornelin’s death?’

‘No,’ Zerrah replied, still unsure as to whether to trust the Dragon or not.

‘Therefore, the perpetrator is still amongst us.’ Maelgwn’s thoughts turned to who it might be. ‘Do Inanna or Shamash have any officials in the city at present?’

‘More than likely,’ Zerrah granted. ‘And Cornelin would have had dealings with them.’ He saw the Dragon’s reasoning and, disposed towards it, he lowered his weapon.

‘There are a couple of Leonine dignitaries enjoying our hospitality whilst they await word on a commission Inanna has with the Lord Gibal,’ Uriah advised.

Maelgwn’s calm demeanour turned stormy. ‘Why was I not informed of this before?’ As Uriah opened his mouth to retort, Maelgwn forewarned him, ‘And do not tell me it was because I never asked.’

Uriah closed his mouth with a look of desperation on his face.

Maelgwn took a deep breath to regain his patience. ‘Do you know anything about this commission?’

Uriah shook his head, his sights drifting towards Aquilla.

‘The commission was referred to me.’ Aquilla offered up the information, horrified to think that her work might have had anything to do with her uncle’s death.

Maelgwn immediately turned to Zerrah to instruct. ‘Arrange a meeting with the Lord Gibal at once. We shall meet you in his audience chamber presently.’ Maelgwn grabbed hold of Aquilla’s arm. ‘Show me the commission.’

The project was being stored in one of the lower security labs, so that Inanna and her dignitaries could keep an eye on its progress.

Aquilla led him into the work space and Maelgwn experienced an all-consuming past-life deja vu again as he observed the strange, silver, disc-shaped ship that Aquilla had constructed.

In his vision, Tory stood admiring the same futuristic chariot. ‘Oh my God!’ she slapped her hands together, delighted. ‘You’re building the chariot of Arianrod! That’s what they called it back where I come from.’ She circled the chariot, smiling broadly. ‘It takes one quickly to the place of one’s desire.’ Tory looked at him as her image began to fade. ‘Don’t you get it! I’ve used this to move through time already … hence, I know you make it work.’

‘Dragon?’ Aquilla clicked her fingers in front of his eyes, as he’d obviously drifted off somewhere else.

‘This is what the quasi-crystal was for,’ he stated surely, moving to inspect the chariot more closely. He wondered about the purpose of his vision, as he already recognised the time shifting chariot as one of Taliesin and Myrddin’s favorite toys. How he knew it was powered by the quasi-crystal was a bit of a mystery, but he strongly suspected he’d find the answer back in his past life in Atlantis.

Aquilla frowned at the Dragon’s certainty, for he seemed familiar with this type of transport. ‘You couldn’t possibly have seen this before. I only just completed it!’

‘It’s working?’ Maelgwn’s sights darted back in Aquilla’s direction.

‘Well, I haven’t tested it, as I was specifically instructed not to,’ Aquilla advised. ‘But I have followed the blueprints to the letter, and by all appearances, it’s in perfect working order,’ she announced, seeming rather pleased with herself.

‘Then under no circumstances is this transport to be handed over to Inanna.’

‘But the design blueprints came from her, therefore the chariot is not mine to withhold,’ Aquilla reasoned. ‘That’s how wars get started.’

‘I don’t know how Inanna got her hands on the chariot’s design blueprints, but I am fairly certain that the credit for its invention is not hers.’ When Maelgwn found five spare minutes he would do some past-life regression and confirm this hunch. He squatted beside the chariot and opening up a panel at the front he exposed the drive system, which was ignited by the strange chaotic crystal. Maelgwn reached inside and retrieved the stone, whereby the drive system ceased to function and fell into darkness.

‘Hey, you can’t do that!’ Aquilla tried to prevent him from concealing the precious crystal in one of his belt compartments. ‘Give that back!’ she demanded, when she failed to retrieve the stone.

‘Give me any more grief and I shall smash it,’ Maelgwn warned.

‘Me give you grief!’ Aquilla didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. ‘All I wanted was to show you a good time and this is the thanks I get!’ She shoved him away as hard as she was able. When he didn’t budge in his stance, Aquilla was only frustrated all the more. ‘I was wrong about you and Durak. You are nothing like him!’ She backed up to create a bit of distance between them.

‘No,’ Maelgwn confessed to calm her down, ‘you were right about us.’

‘Explain.’ Aquilla challenged him to convince her.

Maelgwn frowned with regret. ‘Alas, I am not permitted.’

Aquilla rolled her eyes, having predicted this response. She held her head in her hands to contain the wild assortment of negative emotions that were fighting for precedence in her. In the end, her sorrow won out and she collapsed into a chair to weep. ‘I hate this,’ she mumbled, raising her teary sights to look Maelgwn in the face. ‘Do you have any idea what the paradox of you is doing to me? What I am supposed to think, Dragon? How am I supposed to feel? Act?’

Maelgwn suddenly realised that he was being a bit harsher on Aquilla than he might have been were she not the very image of his lover. He figured this was his way of guarding against getting too close to her; this method may have been effective, but it certainly wasn’t fair. ‘Ever since I met you, I have been asking myself the same questions,’ he quietly confessed. ‘For my beloved’s soul is akin to yours … as you see Durak in me, so do I see my wife in you.’

With a gasp of astonishment, Aquilla’s tears ceased to flow. She raised herself and slowly neared Maelgwn, her expression reflecting her intrigue. ‘So … it would not really be any great threat to your marriage vow if I were to —’

Her kiss did not take Maelgwn by surprise and he allowed it to happen, savouring every second that the indulgence lasted. Her kiss was Tory’s kiss and the temptation of having her in his arms was too all-consuming for his senses to reject.

When the rush of passion was over, they stood staring at each other, their faces acknowledging how much trouble they were in.

‘I never imagined I would feel this way again,’ she broke the deathly silence.

‘Your feelings are wasted on me, Aquilla,’ Maelgwn was sad to concede. ‘I can never fulfil your expectations. I am not permitted.’

Aquilla backed up abruptly, clearly hurt by his words. ‘I have never met a creature so cruel as you. Why did you submit just now?’

‘Because I am weak,’ he snapped, unsure if it was the situation or his own lack of discipline that frustrated him more. ‘But, because I love you, I must keep my distance. If the situation were otherwise I would have —’ He broke off mid-sentence, thinking there was little point going into ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’.

‘You would have what, Dragon?’ Aquilla hounded.

Maelgwn moved to walk away, but stopped when he realised he was defending himself by giving her the cold shoulder again. He turned back to the distraught female and held out his palm to rest against her cheek. ‘I would have fallen in love with you all over again.’ His words were so welcome that Aquilla’s tears began to flow once more and he pulled her close and held her, until her burst of anxiety waned. ‘I never meant to cause you any pain, for you have only ever brought me joy.’

‘You have not,’ she sniffled as she let him go. ‘I can accept that we cannot be together. But I couldn’t stand the thought that you didn’t see me … that you didn’t feel as I do.’

‘I see only you,’ he assured.

‘Well … that’s alright then.’ Aquilla attempted to make light of their tragedy, forcing a smile to assure him all was well with her.

Dragon. Gibal’s voice resounded out from the communicator Maelgwn wore. I trust you have a good reason for keeping me waiting.

13

The Flight of the City

Have you completed your assessment of the situation? Gibal questioned as soon as Maelgwn entered the audience chamber where they had first been introduced.

Aquilla’s highly emotional state upon arrival passed unnoticed, as all assumed her uncle’s death was the cause of her dismay.

‘I have,’ Maelgwn confirmed. ‘And it is my recommendation that we dock this ship at the Aten and allow my Lord to conduct a full investigation.’

This suggestion met with a mixed reaction from those present. Uriah’s face lit up at the very suggestion of space travel. Aquilla appeared somewhere between stunned and horrified. Gibal seemed to be contemplating the idea. It was only Zerrah who verbally opposed it.

‘Do you not feel me capable of handling a simple investigation, Dragon?’

‘How can you find that which you are not permitted to know about, Zerrah?’ Maelgwn outlined the snag. ‘Investigate Cornelin’s death by all means, but there is much more at stake here and your Lord well knows it.’

Gibal had been putting off the move for some time now, but the situation was volatile. If he left it too long to take a side in this dispute between Inanna and his brother, he would lose Marduk’s protection and could well find Inanna’s wrath unleashed upon himself. None of the other Nefilim knew of Marduk’s cause. Only Gibal could, or would, aid his brother in fulfilling the development of his race of Chosen Ones and establishing Marduk’s innocence in the Dumuzi affair.

Agreed, Gibal conceded finally.

‘Good.’ Maelgwn was most relieved by his resolve. ‘We can start questioning people on the way to the Aten, starting with Inanna’s officials.’

‘But everyone in the city shall have to be put into stasis for the journey.’ Zerrah’s mind boggled at the task, as they had not had cause to uproot Mazua in his lifetime.

‘Even better,’ Maelgwn granted. ‘Get on it at once, starting with —’

‘Inanna’s officials,’ Zerrah concluded with him.

Zerrah left with Uriah to see the city occupants through the evacuation procedure, which had only ever been a drill before this day.

Maelgwn stayed in the audience chamber to question the Lord Gibal about his commission for Inanna and his failure to mention it to him earlier.

I have many confidences, Dragon. The reason I have managed to stay out of the family feud is only because I keep my word to all and share my expertise.

‘If you are developing hardware for both sides of your kindred’s war, then you are the one fuelling the dispute!’ Maelgwn was appalled. ‘I must therefore ask you to choose a side as I cannot allow that chariot to be given over to Inanna. I know of its capabilities and will use all means at my disposal to prevent her taking possession.’

Don’t you think I chose allegiance when I gave the go-ahead to move my city, Dragon? Gibal was momentarily annoyed at being lectured by a Homo sapiens, yet he swallowed his pride to speak in a more obliging tone of voice. You may proceed with your mission as you see fit and I shall abide by your judgment. I should not have relieved you of your duty. I have brought this disaster upon myself, but pray that you can aid me in righting it.

Maelgwn derived more than he cared to from the Lord’s confession. ‘You didn’t ask mission control about me being at leisure when you are, did you?’ When Gibal shook his head, Maelgwn wanted to hit something. ‘Blast my diplomacy,’ he snarled. ‘I knew it!’

Please maintain your focus, Dragon. I shall explain all to my brother when we arrive at the Aten.

Gibal’s vow didn’t relieve Maelgwn of feeling like an idiot. He turned to Aquilla, who was quietly sitting in a corner nursing her overactive emotions. ‘Did Gibal send you to me, to keep me entertained?’

‘No,’ Aquilla vowed, standing to reinforce her claim before the Dragon got himself in more trouble.

What is going on here? The Lord noted that his bodyguard’s relationship with his assistant seemed to have taken on a more personal dimension. Perhaps it is time you did a little confessing of your own, Dragon. How exactly did Aquilla discover that which she is not supposed to know about you?

‘It was my fault.’ Aquilla stepped forward to assume responsibility. ‘I prevailed upon the Dragon to accompany me to the seaside, where he chanced upon a sand python and his wound,’ she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘or lack thereof,’ Aquilla resumed her normal tone, ‘gave his secret away.’

Gibal looked to Maelgwn, who was sure he looked as guilty as he felt. ‘The fault was mine, we all know that. But shouldn’t we be doing something about correcting this error and that will be one of our worries solved?’

As we have much preparation to get my city space bound, I suggest we see to that problem once we reach the Sirius side of the wormhole.

Maelgwn wasn’t too comfortable with the suggestion, so Gibal reasoned further: You can accompany Aquilla to stasis immediately … she cannot do your mission any harm in that state. As soon as we revive her at the other end, we shall see to erasing the renegade information from her memory.

‘Fair enough.’ Maelgwn could see the logic, and the Lord’s suggestion gave him an idea that would tidy up their investigation somewhat.

He would leave all the citizens of Mazua in stasis and awake them one by one, once they’d reached the Aten. If questioned as soon as they awoke, no one could escape their investigation or be overlooked.

As Maelgwn accompanied Aquilla to the stasis chamber in her quarters, he thought to ask her about her last journey through space. ‘How much do you remember about the trip from the Aten to here?’ Maelgwn came to a standstill. ‘And now that I mention it, what were you doing on the Aten in the first place?’

‘Cornelin was sent to fetch you here. I tagged along, having heard I might be able to acquire a quasi-crystal from a black marketeer on the Aten … which, of course, I did.’ Aquilla frowned. ‘It cost me an arm and a leg too. It’s a good thing I wasn’t spending my own wealth.’

‘Did you know whose space base you were visiting?’ Maelgwn probed further.

Aquilla shook her head. ‘No. But if the scum of the space city are anything to go by, I feel sure the proprietor must be an outlaw.’ Then Aquilla made a connection. ‘Is that who you serve?’

Maelgwn only laughed. ‘At least now I know what you really think of me.’

‘I wasn’t meaning to say that you are scum.’ She was amused by the misunderstanding.

‘Can you remember if Cornelin was acting strangely on the return flight to Lura?’

Aquilla smiled when she thought about that day in retrospect. ‘He was in an awful hurry to get me into stasis, but besides that, no, he seemed fine to me. Mind you, I was so high from acquiring that rock that I probably wouldn’t have noticed even if he was acting a little weird.’

Once they reached Aquilla’s quarters, she stripped down to the bodysuit she wore under her everyday attire, and programmed her stasis module. It could only be opened again by the city central control system.

‘Well, I guess I’ll see you on the other side.’ Aquilla laid back in the module and got herself comfortable. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like to join me? Could be a real cosy flight,’ She teased.

‘Please, Aquilla,’ he smiled, finding the idea far too agreeable. ‘I am trying so hard to stay focused.’

‘Good luck.’ She arched her back a little, pretending to reposition herself. ‘Don’t give me a second thought.’ Aquilla winked as she passed her hand over the activation plate and was concealed in a tube of charichalum.

Maelgwn breathed a sigh of relief, but his reason for restraint angered him. ‘Curse the Nefilim and their enforced monopoly on immortality. What gave them the right to dictate the course of universal order?’

Suddenly it occurred to Maelgwn that Marduk was expecting him to abide by a law that the Lord himself had proven unable to keep.

He looked back to the black tube that housed Aquilla’s body for the trip. ‘Why did I not have these thoughts before she was encased in the toughest metal known to humankind?’

Was the universe trying to tell him something, or was it just being trying?

Zerrah and Uriah were the last to be put into stasis and Maelgwn had personally seen these two residents locked into suspended animation.

It was on his return route to Gibal that Maelgwn’s eyes beheld an event so wondrous that he was compelled to come to a standstill to witness it.

Beyond the windows and skylights of the top floor corridor down which he proceeded, the peripheral city dome began to harden in preparation for its deep-space flight. None of the transparency of the spherical force-field was lost in the process, but the lapping water of the surrounding ocean just ceased to permeate its surface area.

‘The power to create is an amazing thing.’ Maelgwn shook his head as he resumed his course; such things were never even conceived of in his time.

The city foundations suddenly began to rumble beneath his feet, compelling Maelgwn to make a dash for the closest transporter. Yet instead of making for Gibal, the Dragon willed himself to the rooftop.

Maelgwn stepped off the transporter plate, his eyes upturned to view the centre of the dome. The water level had begun to drop down the sides of the invisible force-field, gurgling with agitation as Mazua arose from the depths of the ocean. A clear dawn prevailed on Lura this day and hence surface conditions were calm and still. In short, perfect for take off. In the distance sheer, jagged landforms rose from the water — the steep, rocky terrain had obviously proven useless for human habitation. The journey off the watery terrain of Lura served to make the city’s ascent into space even more spectacular, for, as Mazua rose high into the air, Maelgwn observed that the treacherous landforms extended far into the distance.

As the space vessel reached further out into the atmosphere of the planet, waves of coloured light rushed over the transparent field protecting Mazua. At first the wave was red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, ultra-violet and with a great rush of white light, Maelgwn found himself looking out into deep space toward the illuminated entrance of the wormhole.

We are approaching the wormhole, Dragon, Gibal advised via Maelgwn’s communicator.

So I see. Maelgwn placed a hand over the device he wore to mentally respond. Should I come below?

Your location within the city will not change the wormhole’s effect on you, for it passes through fourth dimensional space, although sometimes there is etheric leakage into the passage. If we pass through a leakage reality can appear to get rather chaotic, for that is the nature of the fourth dimension. Just observe any strange occurrences and don’t react to them as the disturbances will right themselves by the time we reach the Sirius system. This passage may seem instantaneous or seem to take forever, but do not panic as time is an illusion after all.

Thanks for the advice. I shall bear it in mind. Maelgwn let go of the communicator and collapsed onto a floating outdoor lounge to endure what promised to be a truly cosmic episode.

As the huge mouth of the time-space tunnel drew closer, it proved impossible to maintain a reclined position. The bright swirling matter that lined the tubular passageway was mesmerising and Maelgwn’s fixation with the glowing, brightly-coloured substance found him seated forward on the lounge, staring hard at it. The wormhole almost seemed to be drawing them in, accelerating them ever faster into its grasp, until suddenly their transport was shot forth at incredible speed. At this point, everything around Maelgwn became blurred. It appeared that every atom that comprised each individual component of the immense city was racing to keep up with the matter to which it was normally bound.

‘Bizarre,’ commented Maelgwn, but his voice came out sounding deep and warped to the ear. This amused him greatly, and his laughter sounded as bent as his speech.

A barrier of blue-white light, the like of which Maelgwn had always associated with etheric world occurrence, passed over Mazua, and an eerie, sweet-smelling mist descended.

‘O … h … n … o …!’ Maelgwn braced himself for events unpredictable.

A glistening lightform came floating down through Maelgwn’s distorted, misty surrounds, and although it had no definable form, its molecular structure appeared completely intact. Until the glowing mass divided into twelve equal parts that circled down to surround the lone warrior.

Just observe. Maelgwn refrained from voicing his questions and watched intently as each of the twelve portions of etheric light matter assumed a different image of himself. The event answered most of Maelgwn’s unasked questions, for he realised that around him stood the constituents, or human incarnations, that comprised his higher self.

Greetings, Chosen One. The thought-form that exhibited all the physical traits of the Delphinus broke formation with the circle and moved forward to address him.

Durak? wondered Maelgwn.

His Delphinus counterpart nodded. You recognise us for who we are, but if you were more intimately familiar with us, our combined knowledge would enlighten your current situation much. For, at the point in time and space where you stand, I still dwell amongst the living.

This information came as quite a rude shock to Maelgwn. If you are not dead then where are you?

Now you are aware of my status, I trust you shall be able to deduce that yourself, Durak, replied as he floated back to his place within the circular formation.

Although Maelgwn had thought to explore his twentieth century and Atlantean incarnations, it had not occurred to him to investigate his past life as Durak.

Open your inner eye, another of his selves, who was tall, lean and attired in long white robes, advised. And you might, for example, learn that the credit for the creation of the chariot is ours.

I knew it, Maelgwn conceded.

Only because we blinded you with hints, Maelgwn’s tall counterpart said. Your apathy is unacceptable.

Apathy! With all that the universe had put him through since stealing him from his home and loved ones, it dared accuse him of being apathetic?

Yes, we accuse you!

Maelgwn stood and turned to confront the most primordial-looking incarnation of all his Homo sapiens selves. In a mental, spiritual and physical sense you must find wholeness within yourself, Maelgwn. That is what the current plight of the Chosen is all about. He frowned and smiled at once as he posed the suggestion: Two strong pillars, side by side, does a strong basis for a doorway make.

Maelgwn considered the saying to be rather beautiful, knowing the entity referred to the doorway to the next level of consciousness, and he nodded to concede he could relate to what he was being told. Still, Maelgwn failed to see where their advice was leading.

The Nefilim evolved along a path completely distinct from humanity, and were not meant to reside in the physical plane of existence for as long as they have. By continuing to lust after the desires of physical existence, the Nefilim who remain in the Middle Kingdoms are exceeding their Logos’ threshold for endurance. With physical existence came mental, emotional and physical duress, the pleasure of reproduction and its associated desires, as well as Nefilim offspring that proved beyond their forefather’s control. Much damage has been done to and by the soul-minds of the Nefilim breed who ventured into a physical state to aid with the evolution of the human breeds; damage that has to be repaired on a physical level.

The Chosen’s karmic debt to the Nefilim? Maelgwn expressed his belief.

His primitive self nodded in response. A Karmic deal was struck between the Nefilim Logos, Anu, and the members of the allied Logi systems, including your own Apsu. For if Anu’s Nefilim race were to brave the physical realms to contribute to the development of the human and superhuman breeds of the Allied Systems, then the Nefilim had to be compensated for the hardships and confusion they would ultimately endure there … lacking emotional understanding as they did. They did not evolve on the physical plane as we did, but on the mental or third plane of existence. However, the know-how and vision of their kind made the Nefilim the perfect candidates for the job. And for a long time they lived up to the expectation of the Allied Logoi. But, as was inevitable, those Nefilim who decided to stick it out in the physical plane for as long as possible, instead of ascending back towards their Logos once their work in the Middle Kingdoms was complete, lost the plot completely.

Enter the Chosen Ones, Maelgwn put forward.

It was decided that the dormant immortal gene in those Homo sapiens set apart as Chosen would be activated … so that, equal in capability and with superior emotional understanding, the Chosen Ones could guide their fallen carers back to their soul source. It is the destiny of the Chosen to challenge the Nefilim’s interstellar rule on this plane of existence, and you, Dragon, are destined to prepare the way for that rebellion.

Maelgwn was overwhelmed a moment, as the directive was clearly seditious. You seem very knowledgeable about the Chosen Ones?

I was the personal assistant to the Nefilim Master, prophet and scientist known as Enki … or Bedi, as your tribe knew him, he explained. Homo sapiens were his brainchild, but our perfection was not reached overnight. I was the first Homo sapiens to be born in the likeness of the Gods in that I was free of body hair when I was born. My birthplace was the genetic labs of Ninharsag, or Keridwen, as you know her. The Lord Enki was so pleased with the child that had been born of his genes that he adopted me as a son. Adama, he called me, meaning the model man of Ninharsag.

As in the Adam from Christian religious texts, who ate of the forbidden fruit? With this announcement, Maelgwn sank into his seat, too stunned for words.

All of our species who were created before me were but slaves to the Nefilim and laborers in the fields of Eden. These souls had a certain amount of intelligence and cleverness to be of good service to their Lords, but I showed extraordinary skills of comprehension and Enki, as a scientist, couldn’t help but develop these. His brother, Enlil, took the view that Homo sapiens were not yet ready to evolve to the level of learning that Enki was subjecting me to, and maintained that my education would only come to grief. But, unbeknownst to Enlil, Enki was also instructing me in a secret doctrine that had been revealed to him by his Logos, Anu. This doctrine related to the nature of the cosmos and advised of the true role of the Nefilim as our minders not our Masters. Once I had obtained this knowledge, the plight of my fellow Homo sapiens became unacceptable, and I set about tutoring those of my kind, born after me, about our true destiny. My first prize pupil being a maidservant of my father’s house whom I had become rather fond of.

Eve, Maelgwn assumed.

Adama nodded. The soul you now know as —

Tory, Maelgwn concluded surely.

Together we began a revolution that got many of our kind booted out of Eden, into the harsh wilderness. Still, we did not perish as expected, but flourished and prospered.

Maelgwn’s head was spinning and he felt as if he might throw up.

We have led humankind to greatness before, Dragon, and now you must do it again … only this time you are fully equipped to finish the job.

But I am a mere novice in the interstellar world … I wouldn’t know where to start. Maelgwn’s first reaction was to reject the responsibility.

You will know, and you will have aid. Adama assured. There is a short period of darkness ahead of you, but take heart, for unseen forces will be at work with you. What seems to you unfortunate shall, in the end, be to our favour. From injustice, justice will be done. Endure and overcome, Dragon, then you shall find the paradise you seek.

In a flash of etheric light Maelgwn found himself kneeling on the rooftop. His world had stabilised, and up ahead the wormhole parted to reveal the darkened, star-sprinkled depths of deep space.

In the central control chamber above his lab Gibal hovered about on his throne, which psychokinetically connected him with all the command systems of the massive ship.

Ah, Dragon, there you are, the Lord commented without looking at Maelgwn as he entered. You weren’t too badly affected by our passage, I trust.

‘No, no,’ Maelgwn commented casually. ‘It was rather enlightening really.’

Very good. The Lord lowered his control seat to the ground and disembarked. I am tracking the Aten at present, but as it will be some time before we catch up, I am going to my quarters to refresh myself before our arrival.

Before he went, Gibal showed Maelgwn the device to alter Aquilla’s memory. The Lord was about to instruct the Dragon on the operational procedure, when Maelgwn realised that he was already familiar with the memory modification function of the apparatus.

Excellent. My brother has prepared you well, Gibal appeared pleased to concede, for the mental effort of moving Mazua had obviously exhausted him and he needed to rest and regenerate. I have set Aquilla’s stasis to end presently, but I have left you ample time to make your way to her chamber before she awakens. I shall revive the remaining city occupants upon your instruction.

Maelgwn nodded in appreciation, and although he hated to detain the Lord from his much needed rest, he had to inquire. ‘Before you go, could you tell me how Aquilla’s husband died?’

The Lord frowned, concerned as to why the Dragon should be interested in Aquilla’s private affairs.

‘I believe it may have some bearing on this case,’ Maelgwn clarified his reasons for asking.

I don’t see how … Durak died shortly after Aquilla and I became associated, many years ago now. Gibal raised both brows — although none of the Nefilim had any facial hair that defined the exact line of their eyebrows. However, I believe he died when an underwater archaeological site collapsed … he was an archaeologist, you see.

‘And they found his body?’ Maelgwn queried him further.

A mountain collapsed on the man, Dragon, so there was precious little point.

‘Are you aware of what Durak’s archaeological interest in the site was?’ Maelgwn questioned as an afterthought.

I have no idea. Gibal tired of the subject. Why don’t you ask Aquilla?

‘I shall,’ Maelgwn granted, thankful for his patience.

Maelgwn accompanied Gibal to the outer security doors of the lab, where they parted ways. The Lord went to his rest and Maelgwn to Aquilla.

The chamber door departed in time for Maelgwn to observe the charichalum tube open and expose the sleeping beauty it harboured within.

The sight of Aquilla captivated Maelgwn as he waited for her to emerge from her slumber. He thought it interesting that his higher self had not warned him away from this woman as everybody else had. Or had Adama’s spiel about finding wholeness within himself been intended to set his mind at rest on the issue? The thing was, his mind was already committed to the fact that any intimate association with her would be deemed unlawful. It was his body and his spirit that craved her and his obsession was beginning to exceed his desire to maintain his good reputation or his loyalty to his Nefilim Lords — at least those Nefilim still residing in the physical plane of existence. What was worse, his preoccupation with Aquilla was preventing him from fully concentrating on his mission here on Lura. But if Adama’s directive, that the Chosen were to challenge the Nefilim’s interstellar rule and persuade them to return to the etheric realms, was Maelgwn’s true life quest, then should he be adhering to the word of the Nefilim’s fallen souls? Deep inside he suspected that he was just looking for an excuse to pursue his desire. If his union with Aquilla was meant to be, then why would his higher self have enlightened him with the knowledge that Durak was still living and breathing? Still, Tory was presently having Maelgwn’s child via the relationship she’d had with his twentieth century incarnation. Why then should Maelgwn feel that this situation was any different — because Aquilla was of a different human tribe to himself?

Great Goddess, advise me, for I have never been so confused. His instinct was so clouded by desire, fear and guilt it was hard to cut through the thoughts that others had impressed on him to perceive his own true feelings on the matter.

As the sleeper began to awaken, Maelgwn ceased to stare and moved to the window in the hope of quelling his desire. There was still some inner force compelling him to abstain, but this instinctual hesitation could have been part of his pre-programming, which was yet another reason why he hesitated to trust his own instincts.

Aquilla’s eyes parted and on sighting the Dragon beside the window, she breathed deeply and had a stretch.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Maelgwn asked, without looking to her.

‘Mmm …’ she moaned with satisfaction, ‘erotic dreams.’

This comment served to get Maelgwn’s attention instantly.

‘Oh, don’t worry.’ She raised herself to a seated position. ‘They were about you.’

When Maelgwn realised that she’d said ‘were’ instead of ‘weren’t’ as expected, he couldn’t contain his smile.

‘I saw that,’ she teased, as he quickly suppressed his delight.

As Maelgwn broke into a huge smile again, he wondered why he even bothered trying to deny how he felt, as Aquilla obviously wasn’t being fooled. ‘You are making my life impossible,’ he confessed.

‘Good.’ She climbed from the stasis tube and began to dress. ‘So long as I make an impression.’

He nodded to assure her that she did.

Back in the city’s central control chamber, Maelgwn fed the information that needed to be wiped from Aquilla’s memory into the modification system. Once this was done, he removed the headset recorder and handed it to Aquilla, but she refrained from setting it in place on her head.

‘You didn’t cut out any of the warm, fuzzy bits, did you?’

Maelgwn understood that she referred to their kiss. ‘I thought about it,’ he admitted, ‘but no, I did not.’

Aquilla bit her lip and appeared to be gathering her courage. ‘Look, I have to have this out with you now, while I still remember everything. Not that I don’t trust you,’ she clarified, and took a deep breath, whilst she figured out how to proceed. ‘Our feelings for each other are fairly plain and so I was wondering what it is that is not permitted about us? Is it our racial differences or our life expectancy differences?’

‘A little of both, I’m afraid.’ Maelgwn was more than happy to be frank, having wanted to explain his reluctance anyway.

‘Therefore, am I right to assume that the event of offspring is what is forbidden rather than the actual relationship itself?’

When Maelgwn nodded to concede that her statement was true enough, he noticed Aquilla’s pale blue skin flush to a deeper shade of blue as she smiled mischievously.

‘Well, that being the case …’ she dragged out her confession in a coy manner, ‘I’d just like you to know, for the record, that I have been medically deemed infertile. Check my files if you don’t believe me.’ She placed the memory modification device on her head and closed her eyes, sedated by the procedure she was undergoing.

Maelgwn was stunned by the announcement, as it seemed too good to be true. Was this the sign from the Goddess he had requested only a short time ago?

He rushed to Gibal’s control chair which was just hovering at present, and planted himself in the hot seat. Maelgwn placed his hands on the psychokinetic control plates and called up Aquilla’s medical records.

Although medical records were private and confidential, they were not top security and therefore accessible to anyone with security clearance.

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ As the requested information filled an invisible screen that was positioned a few feet in front of him, Maelgwn’s days of defiance and disobedience as a youth came flooding back. His mischief felt good as he perused Aquilla’s personal medical files for the applicable entry. ‘Divine Goddess,’ he uttered as he found the confirmation he sought.

Maelgwn abandoned the control chair before Aquilla’s memory modification was complete. By the time she opened her eyes and removed the headset, he was back by her side.

‘All done.’ She raised herself from her seat to confront Maelgwn in a playful manner. ‘Would you care to question the witness?’

After a thought, he concocted a suitable test query. ‘Why is it that we never made it to the Stargaze temple the other night?’

Aquilla frowned, thinking him a fraction callous for bringing the topic up. ‘Because we got sidetracked by my uncle’s murder. Remember that?’

‘Oh yes,’ Maelgwn corroborated, relieved to have one of his problems solved.

‘So.’ Aquilla glanced at the control systems panel that advised of the time until contact with the Aten. ‘What shall we do … all alone on this huge ship with so much time to kill?’

As Aquilla approached and held him, Maelgwn wondered about Durak’s whereabouts. Why would he leave his lover lonely and believing him dead? Her kiss convinced him that if it was within Durak’s power to be with this woman, he would be. Thus Maelgwn had to conclude that something, or someone, must have been detaining the missing archaeologist. Maelgwn had always been perfectly honest with Tory and, therefore, felt he should award Aquilla the same courtesy. He gently put a stop to their passionate encounter before it got beyond his control.

‘Something else has come to light that I think you should know about.’ Maelgwn removed Aquilla’s arms from around his body and held her hands in his instead.

‘I am listening,’ she confirmed, in a mildly anxious fashion.

‘I have reason to believe that Durak may still be alive.’ Upon seeing Aquilla’s bemused expression, Maelgwn considered that he might have been a little subtler in his delivery.

‘You are unbelievable.’ Aquilla backed up and folded her arms, annoyed. ‘If you’re not interested, Dragon, just say so. I shall not be offended. But to concoct —’

‘I am not making this up!’ Maelgwn stressed, insulted, but with his next thought came the conundrum of how to explain. ‘You were right when you said Durak’s spirit was akin to mine —’

‘When did I say so?’ Aquilla challenged, whereby Maelgwn recalled that the statement had been deleted from her memory along with the instance that had brought it into being.

‘Oh damn,’ he uttered, scratching his head, whilst Aquilla sank further into a state of rejection.

‘I was in communication with my husband from on board the support vessel when the site collapsed,’ she informed Maelgwn, tears spurting from her eyes. ‘There was no time to escape! There were no survivors! Understand?’

As Aquilla made for the control deck exit door, Maelgwn went after her. ‘Aquilla, I didn’t know that.’ He pulled her up and spun her around to face him. ‘Obviously my psychic informants are not to be trusted. Please believe, I am so very sorry to have brought it up.’

With a deep breath, Aquilla calmed and gave a sigh. ‘Well, at least it’s all out in the open now.’

She raised her pale blue eyes to stare into Maelgwn’s own, as she awaited his resolve.

‘He still loves you, Aquilla,’ Maelgwn confessed, moved to the point of tears himself as all his repressed feelings began to surface.

‘Then, what is he afraid of?’ Aquilla reasoned, with a look of complete empathy on her face.

For the first time since they’d met, Maelgwn initiated the seduction, and Aquilla submitted herself completely to their forbidden love. She was no longer even aware of why this affair was unlawful — they were both beyond caring any more.

14

Real Lies

Zerrah and Uriah were the only other residents of Mazua who were revived before the city reached their rendezvous with the Aten.

Maelgwn had gone to await Uriah’s return to consciousness. Zerrah was greeted upon awakening by his sister.

‘Hi there.’ Aquilla smiled broadly at Zerrah, as he raised his stiff carcass off the stasis bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like one of the living dead,’ Zerrah grumbled, releasing a moan as he rubbed his stiff neck. He looked to Aquilla, noticing that she appeared particularly radiant after her time in hibernation. ‘Stasis certainly appears to agree with you.’ His observation had a tinge of suspicion about it.

Aquilla nodded. ‘It’s the first time in ages that I recall having had pleasant dreams.’

Zerrah’s expression turned dark as he moved to put on his outer layer of clothes. ‘It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who you were dreaming about.’ Zerrah was so disgruntled as he pulled on his attire that he tore through the organic fibre in a couple of places. His little fit of pique was no matter in the end, as the suit quickly repaired itself and Aquilla wasn’t paying his foul mood any heed.

‘Oh Zerrah, it was just a harmless dream,’ she put forward.

‘Maybe.’ Zerrah strapped on his weapons belt. ‘But if you ever attempt to fulfil any of your little fantasies about the Dragon, I shall personally see him dead first.’

Aquilla lost a little of her cheer at this point. ‘Over my dead body.’

Her expression turned just as stormy, and Zerrah stared her back in silent challenge for some time. ‘Don’t place me in that position, Aquilla.’ He calmed a little, as his sister appeared to get the message. ‘Meantime, I think it’s time I got on with my investigation.’ Zerrah noted Aquilla still wore her thought wave neutraliser. ‘And it is going to prove a little difficult to question you with that on.’

‘The Dragon has already fully interrogated me and cleared me of suspicion,’ Aquilla informed, sounding deeply hurt that her brother would even consider her a suspect.

‘That is unacceptable,’ Zerrah advised, harshly. ‘You and the Dragon are the only ones with lab clearance. How do I know this is not a conspiracy?’

Actually, he suspected his sister may have been intimate with her dream lover already, which could explain why the Dragon insisted she wear the thought neutraliser.

‘Zerrah.’ Aquilla was shocked. ‘Listen to what you are saying? You seriously think I could kill someone? Let alone someone I was as close to as Cornelin?’

‘No,’ Zerrah said surely. ‘But the Dragon certainly could have done it.’

‘To what end?’ Aquilla challenged.

‘To protect his mission, as you yourself suggested at the time we found Cornelin.’

Aquilla gasped, shaking her head to express the extent of her mistake.

‘Yes.’ Zerrah pressed on with his speculation. ‘I know whatever it is that was stolen was taken from the lab, and you left after Gibal on the day in question. If this theft is connected with Cornelin’s death, that doesn’t leave a whole load of suspects to question, now does it?’

Aquilla shook her head again, seeing his point.

‘Where is the Dragon now?’

‘On his way here with Uriah, I suspect,’ she replied.

‘Good.’ Zerrah slapped his hands together. ‘With any luck, we shall have this mystery solved before we even reach our destination.’

As soon as Maelgwn walked in the door he was confronted by Zerrah protesting at the Dragon’s prior questioning and acquittal of his sister.

Maelgwn had not excused Aquilla from Zerrah’s investigation as she claimed, and so frowned as he looked to Aquilla for some explanation. The plea on her face urged him to trust her and back her up.

‘Could I just have a quiet word.’ Maelgwn motioned Aquilla to follow him, but Zerrah protested.

‘A simple yes or no answer would suffice.’ Zerrah folded his arms. ‘Or do you need more time to plot around me?’

‘Hey,’ Maelgwn barked, ‘I am above suspicion in this matter, as your Lord has already advised you.’

‘No one is above suspicion, Dragon,’ Zerrah was quick to retort.

‘Correct me if I am wrong, Captain,’ Maelgwn challenged the young warrior again, ‘but I still have authority over you in this affair and will therefore do exactly as I see fit, is that understood?’

Zerrah backed down and with a reluctant wave of his hand, gave them leave to converse in private. ‘Sure thing, Commander. Feel free to plot away.’

Once they were out of Zerrah’s quarters and earshot, Maelgwn asked Aquilla to explain herself.

‘The thought should have occurred to me before now,’ she cursed herself under her breath, before continuing, ‘but if Zerrah does a telepathic investigation on me, he will find out about us and he has threatened to kill you.’

Maelgwn smiled, knowing this posed no real threat, even though Aquilla was no longer aware of that fact. Still, before he could open his mouth to reassure her, she went on to advise that Zerrah had also threatened to make public their love affair if he discovered any evidence that confirmed it. This was more of a worry, and Maelgwn frowned, feeling himself being snared in a trap that he was helpless to escape.

‘Deep down you know I had nothing to do with the foul play that has taken place here in recent days,’ Aquilla appealed. ‘But if you feel I am suspect, then please feel free to telepathically examine me yourself.’

To telepathically examine her, however, meant that Maelgwn’s mind would be exposed to her scrutiny also. ‘You must realise I can’t do that, Aquilla.’

‘Then let us find a third party who is not my brother, who might not suspect our secret, and would not expose it if he did uncover it.’

Aquilla was referring to Uriah, and Maelgwn conceded this solution to be a good one. With a decisive nod, he breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You’re starting to regret us already, aren’t you?’ Aquilla could see the remorse on his face.

‘No,’ he was quick to assure her. ‘If I were quartered and sent to the four farthest corners of the universe because of us, I would still not regret it.’

The reassurance brought her beaming smile back. ‘I have missed you.’

‘Dear Goddess, haven’t you two found the plot yet?’ Zerrah leaned out of his quarters to yell down the deserted corridor at them.

‘Leave Uriah here to question your sister,’ Maelgwn instructed.

‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ Zerrah was almost forced to laugh.

‘Because I need you to assist me with an autopsy. I think it’s about time we found out exactly how Cornelin died, don’t you?’

Zerrah didn’t want to be seen to agree, although it was obvious that he did. ‘Such a tempting invitation.’ His tone indicated a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the idea. ‘How could I possibly refuse?’

No surgery was required to complete an autopsy here in Mazua. The corpse was scanned, the data analysed and the cause of death determined by the one amazing machine.

‘Jumping jellyfish!’ Zerrah’s jaw began to fall as he read the report the machine spat out at him.

‘What does it say?’ Maelgwn urged him to impart the news.

Zerrah looked to him, still stunned by the conclusion reached. ‘Asphyxiation, caused by exposure to massive amounts of concentrated microwave radiation,’ he informed, passing the print-out to Maelgwn so that he might read it himself. ‘Someone fried Cornelin from the inside out.’

What was perplexing about this news was that Maelgwn’s memory did not deliver up any additional information. ‘I have no knowledge of a weapon with this kind of capability.’

‘That’s because there is none.’ Zerrah appeared very perturbed about the fact. ‘Such a weapon would never get Pantheon clearance.’

This seemed to implicate Inanna and Shamash all the more, in Maelgwn’s view, knowing that they had the resources and cause to create such a weapon.

‘Where are the quarters Inanna’s representatives are occupying at present?’ Maelgwn queried.

‘Why?’ Zerrah couldn’t keep the smile from his face, having guessed what the Dragon was going to suggest.

‘So we can search them, of course.’

Their unique situation did seem to be begging to be taken advantage of. ‘That is highly illegal, you realise.’ Zerrah felt it his duty to point this out.

‘So is roasting your uncle,’ Maelgwn justified.

‘You twisted my arm. Follow me.’

Because Zerrah was head of security, his palm print gained him access to everywhere in Mazua, bar the lab. As the Delphinus warrior placed his hand on the security plate that unlocked the door of Inanna’s representatives’ room, he commented sideways to Maelgwn, ‘This doesn’t mean to say that I don’t still suspect your involvement in this affair.’

‘Same here,’ Maelgwn concurred, as the door departed to grant them entry.

‘How could I have possibly stolen an item that I know nothing about?’ Zerrah challenged as they moved inside the luxurious guest quarters.

‘You may have had an accomplice,’ suggested Maelgwn, as he began to search through the luggage laying about. ‘After all, you were the guard on duty at the time of the robbery. Whoever stole the item would have had to get past you first.’ He didn’t really suspect Zerrah, he just thought he’d give him a taste of his own medicine.

‘No one entered,’ Zerrah defended. ‘And only Aquilla exited after Gibal’s departure, and she was empty-handed.’

‘So you say,’ Maelgwn vexed him further.

‘Aw!’ Zerrah dismissed his view with a wave. ‘Think what you like, Dragon, but you’re skirting around the wrong reef.’ The young warrior got to sifting through the personal effects of the occupants, whereby he uncovered a wrist brace with an unusual metal tube attached. ‘Hey-ho, what have we here?’ Zerrah pulled a set of large tweezers from his weapons belt to lift the unusual device up so that he and Maelgwn could view it more clearly.

‘I’d say you may have found the murder weapon,’ Maelgwn commented, as they both observed it.

A disturbance behind them distracted Maelgwn and Zerrah from their speculation. They both turned to view the only point of entry to the quarters, but were not fast enough to spy the cause of the noise. The sound of someone running down the interior corridor beyond the guest chamber spurred both warriors into a chase.

They found the transporter plate, not too far down the interior walkway, alight.

‘Damn it!’ Maelgwn grumbled, coming to a standstill, as their mysterious suspect was spirited to another part of the city.

‘I can trace the destination from the central security quarters,’ Zerrah offered, also annoyed to have lost the displaced person.’

‘They’ll be long gone by the time we get the information.’

‘If we’re real lucky, one of the surveillance cameras might be in this sector,’ suggested Zerrah.

‘Check it out when you get the chance.’ Maelgwn headed towards the now inactive transporter plate. ‘It could only have been one of three people … unless?’

‘Unless what?’ Zerrah had to wonder what he was implying. Only an immortal could have survived the wormhole out of stasis, and Gibal was the only Nefilim on Mazua at present. Maelgwn knew, that to the best of Zerrah’s knowledge, he was telling the truth, but that didn’t mean to say that one of Gibal’s kin hadn’t snuck into the city somehow. ‘Finish your search.’ Maelgwn stepped onto the transporter. ‘I’m just going to check on Aquilla and Uriah.’

Maelgwn found the pair still interrogating each other in Zerrah’s quarters, where they’d been left. Both vouched for the other’s presence the entire time the Dragon had been gone.

‘Why do you ask?’ Aquilla frowned curiously, but Maelgwn declined to comment.

‘Well, it is my conclusion,’ Uriah rose from his seat to explain, his eyebrows raised in suggestion, ‘that Aquilla is blameless in regard to her uncle’s death and your mysterious theft.’

Maelgwn was most pleased to learn this, although he’d never truly suspected her.

‘I can confirm that Uriah was not involved either.’ Aquilla sat back in her chair. ‘So where does that leave us?’

‘In the dark, as per usual,’ Maelgwn commented dryly. ‘Remain here,’ he instructed. ‘I shall be back with Zerrah, presently. I’ll need you,’ he looked to Uriah, ‘to interrogate Zerrah and clear him.’

Aquilla seemed really surprised by his suspicion. ‘Surely you don’t think —’

‘It’s just a precaution,’ Maelgwn cut in. ‘As Zerrah said, no one is above suspicion.’

‘But I have already checked with surveillance, who have assured me that Zerrah was at his post the entire time.’ Uriah spoke up for the captain of the guard. ‘And as Zerrah wears no thought wave neutraliser,’ Uriah’s eyes skipped to the one Maelgwn wore, ‘his thoughts are open to all. I would have detected his involvement long before this … he is clean, I assure you.’

‘Surveillance, hey?’ The notion reminded Maelgwn that although the mobile microscopic surveillance cameras that were used to patrol the city did not enter the lab, there was a surveillance camera that was part of the NERGUZ security system. Maelgwn felt sure Gibal would have checked this footage immediately upon discovering the device missing and reported any findings, but just in case it had been overlooked, he decided to check it en route back to Zerrah.

When Maelgwn called up and viewed the footage of the day in question, the theft of the NERGUZ was shielded by a great flash of light — one minute the device was under its protective force field, then a flare of light and it was gone. As the exterior security of the lab was so tight, there had been no need for massive amounts of surveillance, so this footage was all Maelgwn had to work with.

‘Very helpful,’ Maelgwn commented sarcastically — although the footage did indicate that some sort of technology had been used to retrieve the band from its housing. The security systems appeared to have remained in place and active the entire time — a fact that Maelgwn double-checked with the city’s central intelligence computer.

After Maelgwn had reported his findings to Zerrah, he quizzed him as to what means may have been used to commit such a theft.

Zerrah produced what appeared to be a tiny hand gun, which was small enough to be easily concealed. ‘Something like this, I’d say.’ He aimed it at a vase and fired, whereby the vase disintegrated into light wave matter and was sucked into the weapon. ‘It’s a particle converter, which works on much the same principle as your fighter module.’

Zerrah reversed the function of the weapon, whereby it shot forth the light matter once more and it reformed into the vase. ‘I’ve already scanned it for prints.’ He then shrugged. ‘Either it’s been wiped clean or our thief was wearing gloves.’ Zerrah placed the particle converter aside.

‘But the missing item was guarded by an alarmed force field,’ Maelgwn posed. ‘Surely the beam from the converter should have set it off?’

Zerrah nodded to agree. ‘Unless it was specifically designed to avoid triggering the alarm system. It’s been done before. No sooner have we devised a new defense system than some industrial thief has figured out a way to work around it.’

‘In fact, it’s looking like all the hardware used to commit this theft was specifically designed for the job. While you were gone I ran a metal detector over the room.’ He led Maelgwn to his next finding. ‘And came up with this.’

It was a small box-like object that was open front and back, so that you could see straight through the middle.

Maelgwn’s information stores didn’t recognise the device. ‘What is it?’

‘It took me a moment to work it out as well.’ Zerrah grinned as he picked up a little bottle that was on a nearby bench. He placed it inside the device and the bottle vanished. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s a mini-transporter plate.’

‘Curse it!’ Maelgwn feared the device may have been used to get the NERGUZ out of Mazua already.

‘Now don’t wet yourself,’ Zerrah urged. ‘If Gibal is yet to invent a transporter with a range that goes beyond the radius of a city, I very much doubt anyone else has.’

Maelgwn’s instincts disagreed. ‘I’ll bet my life Inanna has the item in question already.’ If the size of the mini-transporter was anything to go by, it looked as if Zerrah’s assumption was correct — it had been specifically designed to cater for the NERGUZ. That was not to say that Inanna’s officials had committed the crime. Whomever it was who’d been sneaking around in these quarters may have planted the evidence now laid out before him. The mysterious stalker may also have been looking for the stolen item, and this tiny transporter could be just a decoy.

‘Is there some way to trace the destination of this mini-transporter?

Zerrah shrugged. ‘There is one on my security team who might be able to hook it up to the central security system and extract the information. But only he could tell you if the components of this mini system are compatible with ours.’

‘Then you have my clearance to revive that person,’ Maelgwn granted, ahead of pointing to the charichalum tubes that contained Inanna’s officials. ‘These two will be the first to be questioned once we dock with the Aten.’

‘Agreed,’ Zerrah nodded, rather interested to find out just how much the two Leonines knew.

As the time of contact with the Aten was fast approaching and Gibal had yet to make an appearance on the control deck, Maelgwn decided he’d best chase the Lord up.

But Gibal was not encountered en route, nor was he to be found in his quarters.

Maelgwn tried to reach Gibal via his communicator, but there was no response. Before panicking, Maelgwn reached for the secret PKA locator that Gibal had insisted he carry in case of an emergency. Unfortunately, he discovered that the pouch in his belt that had contained the device was now empty.

‘That’s impossible!’ he cried, beginning to wonder if he was capable of keeping track of anything?

‘Wait a moment …’ Maelgwn focused on Gibal to teleport himself to his side, but again had no success.

Either he’d missed Gibal somewhere along the way and the Lord was now in the lab, or, whomever was in possession of the stolen NERGUZ was using it on Gibal to prevent him from being found via thought projection.

Maelgwn gripped hold of his communicator. Zerrah.

I read you Dragon, Zerrah confirmed. Is there a problem?

Revive your entire security team. Gibal may be missing.

What?

Maelgwn was sprinting towards a transporter when he realised there was an easier way. With no one around to witness the event, he envisioned the inner security doors to the lab and in an etheric instant, found himself there.

What do you mean, may be? Either he is missing or he isn’t! Zerrah demanded answers.

Maelgwn held his palm up to the security plate outside the inner doors to the lab. Once inside the top security area, Maelgwn willed himself to the control deck.

On the other end of the communications link, Zerrah had began to panic. Dragon, answer me!

When Gibal was nowhere within the control deck either, Maelgwn breathed a heavy sigh of remorse for his negligence. Confirm, Gibal is missing.

Just wonderful … this is a flipping nightmare! Zerrah cursed, and then went quiet a moment. So, who is going to dock Mazua?

I shall see to it, Maelgwn advised.

Like you were seeing to Gibal’s safety? Zerrah mocked to make a point. This isn’t just some minuscule fighter craft, you know? Just how much flight experience have you got?

Maelgwn was hardly going to admit to having but a few hours of simulated pilot training. You just concentrate on finding Gibal. Let me worry about the Aten.

You had better be true to your word this time, Dragon. My kin, associates and dearest friends are in your hands. Zerrah signed off.

Maelgwn let go of the communicator. He had no wish to endanger these people, but, as advised by mission control, he had to trust that his mind had been programmed to deal with such situations.

Thus, in blind faith, Maelgwn assumed the hot seat and placed his hands on the PK control plates that were on the end of both the armrests of Gibal’s chair. Although Maelgwn had perused the ship’s instrument boards many times before this, only upon this viewing did he come to understand all the different functions. Now he could make use of the data each readout disclosed. He was concerned to discover, however, that according to this ship’s tracking device, the Aten should have been within sight and yet the huge spacecraft was not registering on any of the other instrumentation. Upon requesting an exterior visual, the visible monitor came to hover before him. On the screen all Maelgwn could see was light-years of deep space and the distant twin suns of the Sirius system.

‘Please Goddess,’ he mumbled to himself as he lowered the headset that would allow him to communicate with craft outside of Mazua. ‘Surely I can’t lose a space station of that size.’ Maelgwn was about to attempt to raise a response from mission control on the Aten, when an exterior craft advised: ‘This is Aten patrol requesting identification of approaching craft. Respond or you will be considered hostile.’

Maelgwn breathed a sigh of relief as he saw two of the Aten’s patrol craft shoot past over the city. ‘Aten patrol. This is Mazua control requesting top security clearance to dock.’

‘Grandpa, is that you?’

Maelgwn grinned broadly as he recognised his grandson’s voice. ‘Confirm that.’

‘Well, holy subspace, Dragon, you do like to make an entrance.’ Cadwell laughed. ‘Hang about, we should have clearance for docking presently.’

‘I’m hanging,’ Maelgwn confirmed. ‘I also request an immediate audience with mission control.’

‘Passing on that request.’

All went silent in Maelgwn’s headset a moment.

‘Dragon command,’ Cadwell responded, finally, ‘mission control wish to know if you have achieved your directive.’

‘I have.’ I hope, Maelgwn thought on the quiet. ‘I must advise, however, that I have a highly volatile situation on board. Until I have briefed mission control, I suggest this ship is kept isolated … no one departs, no one boards, except me.’

After another long silence Cadwell advised. ‘Mission control confirms your requests, Dragon. We are guiding you in.’

‘Much obliged, she’s all yours.’ Maelgwn’s headset retracted and he sank into his seat, relieved to no longer be acting alone.

On the invisible screen before him, he witnessed the fabric of space rip open to reveal the Aten nestled in its fold. With the parting of the cloaking shield, all the instrumentation began registering the larger craft it approached. The Aten was guiding the Mazua down beneath itself, where a special docking bay awaited designed specifically to accommodate the mobile city. The pinnacle that rose from Gibal’s central operations building was the point of contact that housed the only corresponding hatchway through to the Aten.

As Maelgwn raised himself from the pilot’s seat to make his way to the top level of the building, Aquilla entered the control deck. ‘I thought I told you to stay with Uriah.’ He was angered by her defiance; with persons unknown loose in the city it wasn’t safe for her to be wandering around on her own.

‘Zerrah said the Lord Gibal has gone missing.’ Aquilla ignored his protest. ‘And as everyone else is in stasis and we are all accounted for at the time of his disappearance, that would seem to imply there is another player in this mystery, someone of the Nefilim persuasion most likely.’

‘Which is exactly why I asked you to stay with Uriah.’ Maelgwn grabbed her by the arm on the way to the exit door. He didn’t have time for this conversation.

‘Just listen to me!’ Aquilla demanded, breaking free. ‘You could be blowing our only chance to catch the guilty party.’

With a heavy sigh, Maelgwn gave her leave to explain. ‘Talk en route.’ He motioned her to walk with him.

‘If you still suspect that Inanna is behind all this, then I don’t think you should question her representatives.’

‘What?’ Maelgwn failed to follow her reasoning.

‘They are here to take delivery of the chariot for Inanna,’ she reminded him.

‘Which they are not going to do,’ he stressed.

‘But don’t you see, it is the perfect plan B … for if we fail to turn up the missing item, the missing Lord, and our mysterious player, we can use the chariot as a cover to sneak into Inanna’s stronghold. And,’ she spoke up as the Dragon opened his mouth to protest, ‘no one said the chariot has to be in working order when we deliver it. If this unknown person is working with Inanna’s representatives, then we want he or she to feel free to catch a ride back to her base with them. It will be considerably easier to search their transport than it will be to search this city.’

Maelgwn raised both brows, intrigued by the idea, as he could stow away on Inanna’s vessel, wait until everyone on board was in stasis and then search the ship unhindered.

‘Fair foresight, huh?’ Aquilla fished for a pat on the back.

‘Indeed,’ Maelgwn smiled. ‘I may just do as you advise.’

‘You mean we,’ Aquilla corrected, as she pulled Maelgwn to a stop. ‘I go with my machinery. Inanna will expect me to deliver the chariot and her blueprints to her.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he advised as he resumed his course to the appointment. Unlike Tory, Aquilla was not an immortal warrior. Hence, there was no way he would allow her to accompany him on such a mission.

‘I want your word on it.’ Aquilla seemed to sense his true intent, even without telepathic access to his thoughts.

Maelgwn stepped onto the closest transporter plate and took his leave without further comment. Truth be known, he had a plan of his own, that he dared not discuss with anyone before he had the Lord Marduk’s consent to give it a try.

On the rooftop Maelgwn found the door to the tall tower that rose beyond Mazua’s transparent domed force field, to connect with the massive underbelly of the central module of the Aten. The exterior security plate scanned his hand and granted him entry. Through the door was a platform that, as soon as it was occupied, rose to the top of the tower. As Maelgwn sped towards the hatch door above, he became a little anxious that perhaps the platform was not going to stop short of squashing him like a pancake. At the last moment, the hatchway vanished, and Maelgwn was elevated all the way into the Aten where he was met by two security guards.

‘Welcome back, Dragon.’ Cadwallon greeted Maelgwn as he stepped off the platform into the small, enclosed security chamber.

‘We’ve missed you,’ Candace added with a smile.

‘Not as much as I’ve missed you,’ Maelgwn assured them both.

‘The Lord Marduk awaits you in the next chamber,’ Candace advised.

‘We’ll guard the hatch,’ Cadwallon added.

Maelgwn nodded in gratitude and made straight for his audience. He hoped the Lord would not ask him to remove the thought wave neutraliser he wore and pulled the sleeve of his suit down to conceal it from view.

Zerrah had teams of guards combing the city for the missing Lord, and was coordinating the search from the security quarters inside Gibal’s central building. The man Zerrah had put on the job of attempting to trace the destination of the mini-transporter was the only other person present.

‘Captain,’ he called for Zerrah’s attention. ‘I know why I can’t get a trace on this thing … it’s not a transporter at all. It’s a particle converter with no reverse function.’

‘What?’ Zerrah frowned. ‘But what good is that?’

‘That’s what I mean … either this is the smallest garbage disposal unit ever made, or it has been invented purely as a decoy.’

‘So the stolen item is still here,’ uttered Zerrah in conclusion, as he didn’t think it likely that someone would go to all the trouble of stealing this mysterious item, only to destroy it. That ought to put a smile on the Dragon’s face. He glanced back at a wall of invisible screens in the centre of the security quarters.

Each of these screens was allocated to each of the microscopic, mobile cameras that patrolled Mazua, and on the screen that supplied visual of this building’s docking bay, Zerrah spied his sister. What on earth is she up to? ‘Take over here, will you?’ he commented to the sole officer remaining as he went to investigate what Aquilla was doing in the main docking area.

Zerrah approached quietly, for his instinct told him to be cautious. It was not that he distrusted his sister, but there seemed to be an element of tension about her movements as she locked up a large case. The case was positioned close by the transport belonging to Inanna’s officials, and as the loading ramp to the cargo hold was down, it appeared as if the case was to be loaded on board.

When the case was secured Aquilla turned to spy her brother looming by one of the other transports in the dock. ‘Zerrah!’ Although she seemed stunned to see him, Aquilla kept her voice low, and her eyes darted about quickly, as if seeking a third party.

‘Is everything alright?’ He began to move toward her, curious as to her distressed state.

‘Shh!’ she urged, with tears in her eyes. ‘Get out of here,’ she whispered harshly, motioning with both hands for him to flee.

‘Tell me what’s going on?’ Although Zerrah held his ground, he dropped his voice.

Aquilla shook her head slowly and tears began to stream down her face. That’s when Zerrah noticed that his sister was focused, not on himself, but on someone just behind him.

He was not given the chance to confront his stalker as a sonic pulse bullet ploughed into his back and Zerrah blacked out.

It took some time to convey their current situation to Marduk, and the clues that had been uncovered so far. Somehow Maelgwn managed to explain his perplexing circumstance without even mentioning Aquilla. He referred to her only as Gibal’s assistant.

‘I realise it must appear that I have failed miserably in my mission,’ Maelgwn granted, thankful to have thought of a way to redeem himself. ‘But, I believe I have devised a means to recover both Gibal and the NERGUZ without need for a full-scale investigation.’

Marduk nodded, eager to hear the Dragon’s proposal.

‘Gibal’s assistant has been commissioned by Inanna to build a replica of the time shifting chariot created by myself in Atlantis, and left in the safekeeping of Myrddin and Taliesin back on Gaia.’

Inanna stole the chariot from Myrddin during one of his visits to ancient Egypt to see me, Marduk advised. My dear sister-in-law must have had the blueprints of the prototype drawn up before we managed to steal the chariot back. Which is no doubt what she plans to do with our NERGUZ.

‘It will not come to that.’ Maelgwn implored the Lord to hear him out. ‘It is my intention to use the chariot to go back to before the NERGUZ was stolen and avert the whole incident by insisting Gibal move his research centre under your protection sooner.’

But is that not what you were sent to do in the first place?

It was obvious the Lord knew he was not getting the full story. ‘Gibal’s reasons for staying put made sound sense at the time,’ he explained in his own defence.

Are you sure there wasn’t any other reason why you wished to be detained on Lura? Marduk queried. By all reports, it is a very pretty place.

‘I was sent to Gibal’s service and his wish was to remain on Lura,’ Maelgwn clarified.

I see. Marduk seemed dissatisfied with the response. Tell me, Dragon, why is it that you have failed to mention where you were at the time the NERGUZ went missing?

Maelgwn bowed his head, somewhat taken aback by the question. There was no more getting around the truth. He’d have to tell a bare-faced lie to avoid disclosing his private association with the female Delphinus. As spinning falsehoods was something he’d never been very good at, Maelgwn resigned himself to tell the truth. ‘I was at the —’

The door that led to the small audience chamber from the security dock opened, and Cadwallon entered to inform. ‘A small craft has been launched from the Mazua, Dragon, and is headed back towards the wormhole.’

Maelgwn’s first thought was that the unknown stalker was making a getaway. It also occurred that Aquilla may be taking some rash action of her own concocting. Either way, he needed to get back onto Mazua at once. ‘Sorry, my Lord,’ he looked back to Marduk, ‘but I must go. I hope you can see your way clear to trusting me a while longer, so I can make amends for this mess.’

Marduk gave Maelgwn the nod, whereby the Dragon closed his eyes and willed himself to the small lab where Aquilla had housed the chariot.

When the chariot was discovered missing, Maelgwn’s worst fear was realised. He pressed his hand over his communicator to see if he could contact Aquilla and silently prayed that no harm had befallen her as he awaited a response. He summoned her several times, before giving up and contacting her brother instead. When Zerrah failed to answer his call, Maelgwn really started to panic.

Uriah, he tried as a last resort, but the young diplomat did not reply either.

‘Goddess preserve me!’ he cried, frustrated. ‘I’m surprised the whole of Mazua has not disappeared from under my nose. What has happened to me lately? I was smarter as a mortal!’ He stormed around the small lab on the verge of seriously losing his mind. ‘How is this terrorist managing to stay one step ahead … it’s like he knows my every move.’

There was certainly something he’d overlooked, but his situation did not allow time to sit and contemplate the evidence and events of these past few days. Maelgwn’s thoughts turned to Aquilla and although he risked disclosing his immortal nature once again, he willed himself to her side.

In the stasis chamber of the small moving craft, Maelgwn found four tubes in operation. Although he could not view the occupants, Maelgwn guessed that Aquilla, Uriah, Zerrah and the mysterious terrorist were contained therein. Still, as Maelgwn could do little about apprehending the guilty party at present, he thought it best to have a hunt around for the incriminating evidence.

The vessel itself was not very large. Beside the stasis chamber, there was a moderately-sized lounge area that was open to the flight deck to the front of the spacecraft. Out through the front window shield Maelgwn noted the vessel was only a short distance from entering the wormhole through to the Deneb system and so he made haste towards the cargo hold at the rear of the craft.

There were quite a few transport cases contained therein, the largest of which, Maelgwn guessed, contained the chariot. If he was right, then he could put an end to this whole disaster here and now. The latches around the top of the case were not locked and were easily unbolted. Lifting the lid to the huge container, Maelgwn found he was in luck, and with a great thrust he threw the lid of the case wide open to expose the time-shifting chariot.

As he raised himself up to climb into the container, Maelgwn heard a moan from someone close at hand, and so quietly lowered himself back down onto the floor.

Around the far side of the transport case Maelgwn was stunned to find a body laying in the shadows and, expecting to find Gibal, Maelgwn moved to investigate. It was not the missing Lord but Zerrah, who, as a mortal, had been left for dead. ‘Why, in the name of the Goddess, aren’t you in stasis?’ Maelgwn crouched beside the unconscious man and lifted him over his shoulder. ‘And if you aren’t in stasis, who else is?’ He strained under the dead weight of the warrior he carried into the flight lounge. The wormhole now filled the entire view out the front shield and the vessel was felt to speed up as it entered the wormhole’s field.

‘Mercy sakes!’ Maelgwn pressed on towards the stasis chamber, knowing he had only seconds remaining before the atoms of Zerrah’s body would be scattered to the four ends of the universe.

Upon entering the chamber Maelgwn threw Zerrah’s body in the closest available stasis tube. When he turned back from programming the activation sequence, Maelgwn found Zerrah wide awake and staring at him.

‘It was you,’ he uttered, as the tube closed up and constrained him in its hold.

The next moment their transport shot forth into the space tunnel and the atoms of every object around Maelgwn began their weird race to stay bound to their matter. A moment later, everything returned to normal.

Maelgwn moved out to the flight deck to behold the lovely blue planet of Lura out through the front shield window.

‘How odd.’

The trip had seemed dramatically shorter this time round, and Maelgwn could only assume that the tunnel must have been free of etheric leakage at present.

As the ship was veering away from Lura, Maelgwn sat himself down in the pilot’s seat to learn what their destination was. Although Maelgwn was not familiar with this particular model of spacecraft, its readouts were similar to other vessels that he did have knowledge of, hence it didn’t take him long to find the data he sought.

Their destination was a star system known as Dinara, meaning ‘bright red heaven’. This system was accessed via another smaller wormhole, which was to be found on the outer reaches of the Deneb system. The planet sought in Dinara was Laarsa — ‘seeing red light’. This was where Inanna’s stronghold was to be found.

As there was another wormhole to navigate, Maelgwn thought it a safe bet that the stasis tubes would remain sealed until after the second quantum leap of the journey was over.

‘Then this would seem to be the perfect time to delete this instance from existence,’ he concluded, raising himself to do just that.

Back in the cargo hold, Maelgwn climbed into the large transport case. The chariot was psychokinetically driven, so once Maelgwn was standing inside the transport, he closed his eyes and thought back to his time of arrival in Lura. A few moments after he’d departed from his first meeting with Gibal, seemed as good an instance as any to achieve his goal. And thus, Maelgwn willed this scenario to unfold in Gibal’s audience chamber.

Moment’s later, Maelgwn opened his eyes to discover he hadn’t moved — he was still in the cargo hold.

‘Aw, give me a break!’ he grumbled, manoeuvring himself around the top of the case to check the chariot’s drive system — which was not an easy task given how snug the chariot sat inside its transport case.

A quick glance was all that was required to find the problem — the crystal that was the heart of the drive system was missing.

‘My mistake.’ Maelgwn recalled confiscating the stone from Aquilla. When he checked the compartment in his belt where he’d stored the crystal, the item was no longer there. ‘What was I thinking?’ Too dismayed to be angered, he could easily have cried, but with a few deep breaths Maelgwn actually thought of an up side to this particular betrayal. He would never get to know Aquilla if he altered the past. The thought occurred that perhaps Aquilla had managed to swipe the stone back from him during one of their close encounters. So when she emerged from stasis, if she had the quasi-crystal with her, he would attempt his objective again.

Meanwhile, there were other transport cases in the cargo hold, so he climbed out of the chariot’s container to continue his search for Gibal and the NERGUZ.

The smaller transport cases were all moulded from charichalum, and had voice-coded locks. Maelgwn attempted shooting off one of the locks, which only succeeded in melting the mechanism that sealed the case closed.

‘Well, whatever is in these, it’s not what I’m looking for.’ Maelgwn gave up on them as they were all too small to contain Gibal, or too large to hold the NERGUZ. The way Maelgwn saw it, Gibal had to be the fifth person in stasis and the Lord was probably being restrained by his own invention. So until such time as the stasis tubes opened, he had little choice but to sit back and enjoy the ride.

The passage through the second, smaller wormhole was so instantaneous that the event was barely noticeable, although the star system to which it led was rather spectacular to the eye.

The largest star of the Dinara system gave off a red illumination, and Laarsa was one of the planets in orbit around it. But further off, in the not too distant recesses of space, was another star, blue in colour and one that shone yellow much like Gaia’s sun.

As he entered the stasis chamber, Maelgwn took his PKA sonic pulse blaster in hand. Two of the tubes had opened to disclose the Leonine officials — one male, one female — that had been in Mazua on Inanna’s business.

The male was middle-aged and a little overweight, his face round and jolly-looking. The female was young and trim, with flaming red hair, as was the case with most of the Leonine breed. She was rather beautiful in a cosmetic, extravagant kind of way.

‘Paralyse, from the neck down.’ Maelgwn shot them both with the blaster before they’d even regained consciousness, wondering how the pair had come to be here and not in stasis in Mazua? The shock of the sonic pulse bullet served to wake them in a hurry.

‘What is going on?’ The male Leonine was alarmed when he could not raise himself, until he spotted Maelgwn and the weapon he sported. ‘Where in the heavens did you spring from?’

‘Where is Gibal?’ Maelgwn began his interrogation.

The Leonine frowned, as did his female companion. ‘Back on Mazua, I expect,’ she answered.

‘What do the smaller transport cases in your cargo hold contain?’ Maelgwn queried them further.

‘Are you a Pantheon official?’ The male Leonine looked panicked. ‘Because we have nothing to do with the contents of any of those cases. We are just the couriers, you understand.’

The female Leonine nodded to agree.

Maelgwn returned the PKA sonic pulse blaster to his thigh holster and pulled out his EMS Wand — this was set to the highest frequency of the electromagnetic light spectrum, ultra-violet. ‘What is in the cases?’ As he pushed for an answer, Maelgwn approached the male official so that the threat of the weapon he held seemed more intimate.

‘Munitions,’ the Leonine blurted out as Maelgwn got too close for comfort.

‘Then, why should you fear Pantheon detection?’ Maelgwn quizzed.

‘Perhaps I should have said illegal munitions.’ He forced a smile as his interrogator backed up and returned his weapon to his belt.

The remaining three stasis tubes opened to disclose Aquilla, Uriah and Zerrah, and this drew Maelgwn’s attention.

When Aquilla’s eyes parted to view the Dragon, she smiled broadly. ‘You came for me … I knew you would.’

Maelgwn gave her a reassuring smile in return, and assisted her to a seated position. ‘I need you to tell me what has happened.’

‘Don’t listen to her.’ The Leonine female struggled to move more than just her head and found the goal impossible.

‘Hey,’ Maelgwn cautioned her. ‘If you want to keep your only mobile body part, I’d be quiet if I were you.’ The Leonine rolled her eyes and collapsed her head back into its headrest, whereupon Maelgwn looked back to Aquilla.

‘After I spoke with you,’ she began retracing her steps in her mind, ‘I decided to get the chariot ready to transport —’

‘Do you have the crystal?’ Maelgwn interrupted.

Aquilla shook her head. ‘You took it from me, remember?’ She frowned, concerned for her precious component.

‘So I did.’ Maelgwn was quick to flatten her fear. ‘What happened next?’

‘I’ll tell you what happened next.’

Maelgwn turned to find Zerrah pointing a pulse blaster at him.

‘Zerrah, what are you doing?’ Uriah begged to know as he awoke into the tense situation.

‘Who cares!’ Inanna’s male official cried. ‘Just shoot the bastard.’

‘Butt out,’ Zerrah warned the Leonine, remaining focused on Maelgwn. ‘The Dragon is behind the whole affair.’

‘How do you know?’ Aquilla appealed.

‘Because I awoke as he was putting me into stasis,’ he advised, whereby Aquilla shot a strange look in Uriah’s direction, before looking back to Zerrah.

‘So what does that prove?’ Aquilla reserved her judgment.

‘Let me put it to you this way … if neither you nor I let these two officials out of stasis back on Mazua,’ Zerrah motioned to the two Leonines, ‘and Uriah does not have that kind of security clearance —’

‘Actually, since Cornelin’s passing, I do have such clearance,’ Uriah admitted openly. ‘But Aquilla has interrogated me and cleared me of involvement in this affair, and I have also cleared her.’

With this, everyone looked to Maelgwn, questioning his innocence, even Aquilla.

‘Who else could have freed them?’ Zerrah deduced.

Before Maelgwn could say anything in his own defence, Zerrah fired at him and rendered him immobile from the neck down.

‘Good show!’ cried the Leonine, as Maelgwn toppled over and landed face down with a thud on the floor.

‘Zerrah, you fool!’ Aquilla hurried out of the stasis tube to see how the Dragon fared. ‘Have you lost your mind?’

‘Leave him.’ Zerrah grabbed hold of his sister’s arm and dragged her out into the flight lounge. ‘You too,’ Zerrah motioned Uriah to follow him.

‘Uriah.’ Maelgwn struggled to raise his head to view the lad. ‘Zerrah has got it wrong.’

‘I believe you, Dragon,’ he whispered back to the hindered warrior, so that Zerrah would not hear him. ‘Never fear, I’ll reason with him,’ Uriah assured as he departed, the door to the lounge locking closed behind him.

15

The She Devil

It wasn’t too long before the effects of the sonic pulse bullet began to wear off and Maelgwn found he was able to wiggle himself free of its effects.

When he raised himself to his feet, the male Leonine objected to the swift recovery. ‘Hey, how did you do that?’

‘Mind over matter,’ Maelgwn explained.

Both of the officials began to concentrate on breaking loose of their impediment, which amused Maelgwn greatly. ‘It requires a lifetime of practise,’ he advised to regain their attention. ‘I’m afraid you two will be laid out for some time yet.’

‘Marvellous!’ the Leonine male grumbled. ‘Who are you, man? What are you?’ he concluded with distaste.

‘He’s one of those ape men,’ the female informed, sounding rather intrigued herself. ‘From that primitive little out-of-the-way system where Inanna’s beloved was lost.’

‘I go by the name of Dragon at present,’ Maelgwn informed. ‘And you are?’

‘Serena.’ The female offered up information first. ‘Attaché to the Goddess Inanna.’

‘Don’t tell him anything,’ her accomplice snapped. ‘You don’t know who he is.’

‘The paranoid pussy is Barnabus,’ she added, still observing Maelgwn in an amiable fashion.

Her loose tongue was much to Barnabus’ frustration. ‘Serena! Stop thinking from between your legs and use your brain for a change.’

‘Tell me how you got out of stasis back on Mazua?’ Maelgwn demanded, to put an end to their bickering.

‘How did you get on board this vessel?’ Barnabus asked the question that he found far more perplexing.

‘I stowed away,’ Maelgwn lied, reaching for his EMS Wand.

‘But this ship is equipped to detect any additional life forms on board.’ Barnabus rejected the claim.

‘Are you going to answer my question, or shall I dismember you piece by piece?’ Maelgwn activated his weapon.

‘He’s afraid to tell you,’ Serena spoke up. ‘His life is already under threat, and as it is plainly obvious that you are not going to be susceptible to the truth —’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Maelgwn interjected, dispensing with his weapon.

‘Serena?’ Barnabus frowned in warning and shook his head.

‘Don’t fret, my pet.’ Serena looked back to Maelgwn. ‘There is no way he will believe us. Why should he?’

‘It is hardly worth mentioning then,’ Barnabus stressed.

‘Oh … don’t you want to see him tormented?’ Serena posed the question to her companion, although her sights were still fixed firmly upon Maelgwn.

‘We’ll be on Laarsa soon and then Inanna will straighten out this whole mess.’ Barnabus sounded very sure about that.

‘I think you’ll find that Zerrah will head us back to Mazua,’ Maelgwn commented.

Serena burst into laughter. ‘See,’ she said aside to Barnabus, ‘no idea.’ Barnabus agreed with her on this point. ‘Zerrah’s not in control out there, honey,’ she told Maelgwn. ‘This is not a large vessel — if we’d changed course we would have felt it.’

This was true enough. ‘Who is in charge, then?’ Maelgwn approached Serena to implore her to answer. ‘Is there someone else on board that I don’t know about?’

‘Serena,’ Barnabus cautioned her, ‘you’ve said enough already. Leave it alone.’

‘What harm can it do us to enlighten him?’ she appealed to Barnabus. ‘He’s locked in here all the way to Laarsa, just as we are.’ Serena looked back to Maelgwn, interested to see what kind of a reaction the news would fetch. ‘Your girlfriend has assumed control of our mission.’

‘That’s absurd!’ Maelgwn rejected the idea completely and backed away from the Leonines. ‘Aquilla has no motive.’

‘What if Inanna was holding her mate to ransom, a Delphinus male who could be your twin?’ Serena added a little fertiliser to the seed of suspicion already taking root in the Dragon’s mind.

The information came as a rude awakening and Maelgwn’s etheric vision of Durak came back to haunt him.

At the point in time and space where you stand, I still dwell among the living.

‘Durak,’ he mumbled in conclusion.

‘That’s him,’ Serena confirmed, gratified by the look of betrayal on Maelgwn’s face. ‘I think you’ve been had, sweet thing.’

‘Ha!’ Barnabus thought justice had been done. ‘That’s what you get for treating innocent officials in this manner.’

‘I can’t imagine that any official of Inanna’s would be totally innocent,’ Maelgwn scoffed.

Serena considered his comeback showed considerable insight and she winked to give the Dragon credit. ‘You got that right.’

With no further questions at this time, Maelgwn raised his sonic pulse blaster.

‘Awe, come on!’ Barnabus pleaded.

‘And we were just getting along so well,’ added Serena, pouting with regret.

‘Sleep,’ Maelgwn instructed, blasting both the Leonines into an unconscious state.

With peace established, he thought over Serena’s claim. Aquilla was the only person who could have stolen Gibal’s detection device or, indeed, the quasi-crystal. In the frenzy of disrobing during their heated encounter in the control room, devices had been flying everywhere. She could easily have swiped them then.

But how could she have known about the detection device in the first place?

In addition, Uriah had cleared Aquilla of involvement in the affair, which seemed to indicate that the Leonine’s were toying with him.

Maelgwn closed his eyes to will himself to the cargo hold, which would be devoid of people, when the sound of the lock mechanism in the door disengaging stopped him.

‘You can come out now, Dragon.’

Maelgwn opened his eyes to find Uriah in the doorway. ‘I spoke to Zerrah but,’ he shrugged, motioning for Maelgwn to come and see.

Zerrah was unconscious on the flight deck floor and Aquilla was in tears on the lounge.

‘He’s not dead, is he?’ Maelgwn feared the worst and although Aquilla shook her head to the negative, he checked for himself all the same.

‘He’s just unconscious,’ said Uriah, very matter of factly.

When Maelgwn found Zerrah breathing, he had to wonder why Aquilla was so upset. He left the young captain to approach Aquilla, but Uriah intercepted.

‘There’s something else you should know,’ Uriah warned.

Maelgwn wasn’t listening; his attention was fixed on Aquilla who was shaking her head apologetically. The thought wave neutraliser fell from his right wrist unexpectedly, and was replaced by the NERGUZ. Maelgwn knew it was the NERGUZ before he even viewed the device, the control mechanism had a tiny needle that pierced the skin and he felt this spike sink into his flesh.

‘Gotcha!’ Uriah cried with glee.

This utterance became the code word that locked the device onto Maelgwn’s wrist — only this word would remove the NERGUZ, and only if Uriah spoke it.

‘You will not retaliate,’ the young official instructed as Maelgwn reached for a weapon. ‘You will discard all your weapons, and take a seat.’

Despite his own will, Maelgwn did as he was instructed.

‘See Aquilla, extra credit.’ Uriah motioned to Maelgwn. ‘Inanna is sure to be appeased.’

‘But killing my brother for the sake of saving yours was never part of the deal.’ Aquilla stood enraged, and stormed over to confront Uriah. ‘You were supposed to put him in stasis.’

‘Do you want Durak back or not?’ Uriah snapped.

‘Yes,’ cried Aquilla, ‘of course I do, but —’

‘So do I,’ Uriah concluded. ‘We can leave Zerrah on the ship, Inanna need never even know he’s here. I don’t plan on hanging around long — we make the exchange and we leave. Agreed?’

‘Agreed.’ Aquilla gave in, as arguing would obviously get her nowhere.

Maelgwn sat on one of the control deck chairs taking in every word. It was hard to believe that the two people he’d always trusted most were betraying him. Still, in his life as Durak, these two were risking their lives to save him as they always had.

Aquilla crouched down in front of Maelgwn with a look of pity upon her face. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’ She appeared to want to say more, but decided that really summed it up.

‘Nevertheless, you knew I would.’ His words caused a lump to form in his throat. The fact that they had trapped him with the NERGUZ meant that Aquilla remembered he was immortal.

She nodded her head slowly, daring to be truthful with the Dragon for the first time since they’d met. ‘I knew everything about you before you’d even set foot on Lura,’ she informed. ‘I recorded the information on a thought recorder and have been using the data as a reference ever since.’

‘That’s how you knew about the NERGUZ.’ All the pieces of the puzzle fell neatly into place. ‘You stole Gibal’s detector from me in the control room,’ Maelgwn posed.

‘And my crystal,’ she cut in to inform.

‘But how did —’

‘I know about the detector?’ Aquilla forced a smile. ‘I was the one Gibal entrusted to insert the homing beacon in his neck in the first place.’

‘And where is Gibal now?’ Maelgwn felt he was pushing his luck in asking.

‘He’s in the cases out the back.’ Uriah smirked as he announced.

‘You dismembered him?’ Maelgwn’s stomach turned at the idea of being butchered in a living state.

‘Yes, I dismembered him,’ Uriah stated proudly, ‘and I would do the same to all of his kind if given the chance for it is the only way to be rid of them.’

Not the only way, thought Maelgwn, but he did not interrupt Uriah as he seemed to be on a roll.

‘I am sick of their games, sick of bending to the will of the Nefilim for fear of my life and the lives of those I care about. Once I have my brother back, I will serve them no more! I intend to do everything within my power to rebel against them. And your kind too, if need be.’ Uriah sparked on a topic he thought worthy of conversation. ‘Tell me about the Chosen Ones, Dragon. Or should I call you Maelgwn?’

Uriah let it be known that he had also been referencing the information Aquilla had obtained from him en route to Lura.

‘You are not a Nefilim and yet you are superhuman,’ Uriah said warily. ‘So what is your role in all of this?’

‘The Chosen Ones have been created to put an end to Nefilim rule,’ Maelgwn replied honestly, as the NERGUZ bound him to do.

‘Replace them, you mean?’ Uriah was disgruntled by the notion of a new breed of immortals to contend with. The Nefilim numbered but a few, thus his goal to destroy them was achievable.

‘There is an old Nefilim legend,’ Aquilla began, ‘that is not widely known as it relates to one of the prophecies of Enki. Enki’s doctrines were banned after he aided the Homo sapiens of the Dragon’s home planet to survive a great deluge. Enki’s brother and head of the Pantheon at the time, Enlil, had wanted Homo sapiens eradicated as he considered their particular breed too wilful to be of service to the Nefilim. Enki was appalled by his older brother’s ruling, and swore he would create a race of Chosen Ones … beings so spiritually, mentally and physically aware that they would bring an end to the Nefilim dictatorship of the civilised galaxy.’

‘How did you come to hear of this prophecy?’ Maelgwn was curious.

Aquilla’s expression became rather stormy. ‘It was the topic of my discussion with Durak at the time of his death.’

‘Is that what Durak was seeking? Ancient texts written by the Lord Enki?’ Maelgwn almost pleaded as he considered such an insight would be a rare and priceless treasure indeed.

Aquilla stared at him coldly and Maelgwn did not expect to get an answer. ‘Text was not what he found —’

‘We are the abductors, he is the captive.’ Uriah became disgruntled with obliging their prisoner’s curiosities. ‘How many of these Chosen are there?’ He moved in to monopolise Maelgwn’s attention.

‘I honestly don’t know,’ he replied, ‘perhaps thousands, perhaps more. We can assist you to free Durak —’

‘You’re already going to be of great assistance in that regard.’ Uriah cut him off, choosing to ignore his warning. ‘Thanks all the same.’ As Maelgwn opened his mouth to make an appeal, Uriah fixed his determined sights on the Dragon. ‘You don’t speak, you don’t move, you don’t breathe unless I say so.’

Maelgwn was thankful that Uriah hadn’t forbade him to think as he ceased to move or take in breath.

‘No Uriah, please allow him to breathe,’ Aquilla begged.

‘His sort don’t need to.’ Uriah waved off her request.

‘All the same.’ Aquilla tried another tack. ‘I feel Inanna shall find him more attractive if he’s still pink … she already has the blue version.’

‘Fair enough,’ Uriah conceded. ‘Dragon, you have my permission to breathe.’

As Maelgwn’s capacity to draw breath was restored, he realised that his worse nightmare had come into being. The device would fall into the hands of someone with evil intent and he would be completely at their mercy. Without a thought wave neutraliser to protect what he knew, it wouldn’t be long before Inanna was fully aware of all the Chosen Ones. Here was a whole army of immortal warriors at her disposal, which would be hers to control with the technology he wore on his wrist. Maelgwn saw the test so clearly now that it had passed, and he’d failed miserably. The trial was over, bar enduring the punishment for being blinded to the truth by desire.

Laarsa appeared mauve in colour — the red light of the sun shaded the blue atmosphere of the water planet the lovely pastel shade. Unlike Lura, Laarsa’s surface was not liquid but ice. Most of the globe was plagued by horrendous storms, and so remained largely unoccupied. There was only one pocket of civilisation on this forbidding ball of ice, and that was Inanna’s city, Elima — the ‘house of glittering waters’. Elima was located in a huge crater atop a sheer mountain range which rose above most of the storm activity. This mountain range stretched the length of the planet’s temperate zone, which kept conditions in Elima cold, but hospitable. The city itself was true to its name, appearing to be made of ice, which glittered pale pink as it reflected the red rays of the sun.

As the vessel they were arriving in was one of Inanna’s official fleet, Uriah had no trouble gaining clearance to land at the Goddess’ private docking bay.

Ordered to follow Uriah and Aquilla out to the dock, that was exactly what Maelgwn did. It was like being trapped inside some alien thing having no control of his body. Thankfully Uriah hadn’t started toying with his mind yet. Perhaps he was saving that abuse for Inanna.

‘Where are En Barnabus and Nin Serena?’ A Leonine official met Uriah and his party as they disembarked, and he seemed most alarmed to find his colleagues absent.

‘They are still sleeping in stasis. No harm has befallen them,’ Uriah advised. ‘We are here with a great bounty to offer the Goddess Inanna in exchange for my brother, Durak. It is of the utmost urgency that I speak with Inanna at once.’

Bring them to me, Inanna’s voice resounded through the dock, along with their cargo.

Inanna’s audience chamber was more like a large harem room, as it was laden with curtains, cushions and lounges of silk, velvet and exotic fur. There were two scented pools herein: one steaming, the other cool. A large, open firepit was the central feature of the room and hence, for the inside of an ice palace, the atmosphere was very cosy.

‘I don’t see why Inanna doesn’t just strap a mattress to her back,’ Uriah commented aside to Aquilla as they awaited the Goddess’ presence. ‘The Dragon shall be in for a fine time.’

‘Don’t say that,’ Aquilla begged, obviously doing her best not to think about what Inanna would do with the Dragon.

Uriah picked up on her denial at once. ‘Well, you don’t for a minute think that Inanna is going to let a fine figure of a warrior like him go to waste, do you?’

Aquilla hushed Uriah to silence as Inanna made an appearance.

Her presence was a vision. The goddess truly was an astonishing beauty — she was also half naked. The glittering white cloth of her skirt draped up over a shoulder leaving one of her legs and one of her breasts exposed. The Goddess’ unusually large eyes were of sapphire blue. The other features of her face were pixie-like and petite although her tiny mouth had lips that were large and luscious. Milky white, her skin glowed like a newborn’s, and her ash brown hair fell in long loose locks about the body that was poised, long and slender. At close to seven feet in height, Inanna towered over everyone in the room.

What happened to my officials? Inanna demanded a reply from Uriah, her voice eloquent and seductive.

‘They got in the way of this fellow, Maelgwn Gwynedd,’ Uriah explained, motioning to the prisoner. ‘Otherwise known as the Dragon.’

So … this is your alleged immortal ape man. Inanna still appeared sceptical, even though they had managed to produce a real Homo sapiens.

‘Not alleged.’ Uriah pulled the EMS Wand from Maelgwn’s belt, which now sat proudly around his own waist. The wand was still set on ultra-violet, so Uriah sliced Maelgwn right through the middle.

‘You’re sick, Uriah!’ Aquilla snatched the laser sword from his hand.

The pain and discomfort were only momentary, but Maelgwn didn’t appreciate the demonstration all the same.

When he healed up without so much as one drop of blood being spilt on the floor, Inanna was tickled pink.

And this is the control device? She approached to look over the NERGUZ and the man who wore it.

‘Yes, it is linked to the device I am wearing.’ Uriah held out the executor module for her to view. ‘He is bound to do everything I say.’

Really? Inanna smiled a mischievous smile. Then make him kiss me, she encouraged Uriah playfully.

‘You heard the goddess, Dragon. Kiss her,’ Uriah ordered and Aquilla couldn’t watch.

Maelgwn reached down and taking hold of the goddess’ hand he kissed it.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Inanna smiled, but a little bit of verbal refining and this concept could have real potential. Correct me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t this man bear a striking resemblance to the one you wish to exchange him for?

‘This man is no relation to Durak,’ Aquilla stated absolutely.

Shows what you know. Inanna mocked Aquilla for her lack of universal knowledge.

It was widely known that the goddess held little love for the deeply emotional Delphinus breed, especially the females. Inanna preferred the fiery, promiscuous nature of the Leonine race.

Tell me, Aquilla. Did you use every means within your power to entrap your victim?

‘Does this really matter?’ Uriah interrupted.

With a wave of her hand, Inanna sent the lad flying backward to the floor. Yes, it matters, Inanna informed him calmly. This man is immortal, a demi-god … we wouldn’t want his genes being passed on to the wrong breed, would we?

‘No.’ Aquilla shook her head. ‘There is no question of that. I am infertile.’

So, Inanna approached Aquilla, having had the truth out of her, you’ve managed to screw him in every regard. You certainly turned out to be far more ruthless than I expected when I first recruited you.

‘When you stole my husband, you mean?’ Aquilla’s resentment only served to delight the Goddess all the more.

And what else have you brought for me? Inanna looked back to Uriah, who was still picking himself up off the floor.

‘Your brother-in-law, Gibal,’ Uriah advised in a precocious fashion, referring her to the small transport cases. ‘I took the liberty of disassembling him for you, as I needed the NERGUZ to restrain the Dragon for transportation.’

Excellent! Inanna strode over to inspect the cases. That will teach you for assisting my enemy, Gibal. She thumped the case that she suspected contained the Lord’s head. And my chariot! Inanna exclaimed, utterly thrilled as she caught sight of it.

‘But I have the crystal that drives it,’ Aquilla informed her. ‘And only my voice will release the Dragon into your control,’ Uriah added, ‘so let’s deal.’

Yes, let’s, replied Inanna as a multitude of Leonine warriors entered the chamber.

If he could have, Maelgwn would have rolled his eyes. It was torture being forced to stand by and watch while those that he cared about destroyed themselves and the future of all the human races.

Uriah pulled Maelgwn’s PKA sonic pulse blaster from the holster he now wore, and remained cool and collected as the armed force surrounded Aquilla and himself.

Inanna raised a hand and Uriah’s weapon was ripped from his clutches and catapulted into the goddess’ possession. You ridiculous little mollusc. How dare you? Inanna set her sights on Uriah and slowly approached him. Do you know why I spend most of my life on my back?

Aquilla was infuriated as she realised that Uriah’s loud mouth had blown any chance they’d had of pulling off this deal.

Inanna’s sights shifted to Maelgwn. I am in search of a male who can get me with child.

The Nefilim, having only ever numbered but a few as a race, had inbred themselves to the point of infertility. Inanna’s best chance of bearing offspring to a Nefilim male had disappeared with Dumuzi, and the Goddess would never forgive Marduk for that. Nefilim males had proven most capable of impregnating human women, but mortal men had failed to impregnate her.

You have brought me new hope, the goddess looked back to Uriah, and for that I shall allow you to live. Inanna’s officials took hold of Uriah and relieved him of all his hardware, except the NERGUZ control band.

‘But, the password?’ Uriah protested, believing he should still hold the upper hand.

If you release the Dragon to me, you shall be reunited with your brother, Inanna advised. If you fail to give him to me, I shall disembowel Durak before your eyes.

‘Let him go!’ Aquilla demanded, holding high the quasi-crystal, ‘or I will smash it.’

Stun, Inanna instructed the weapon she held, whereby Aquilla froze. Thank you, said she, as she plucked the treasure from the fingers of the immobilised Delphinus woman. Take her to the lab, Inanna directed a couple of her guards.

‘What are you going to do with her?’ Uriah tried to struggle against his captors, which only served to exhaust him.

Let us just concentrate on your fate, shall we? Inanna suggested as she moved in to question him at close quarters.

Inanna’s beauty was but a smokescreen harbouring a vengeful and horrid soul underneath; the loss of her husband and her want of a child had obviously disturbed Inanna deeply. The same could be said of Aquilla, Maelgwn realised in retrospect. No other entity in the whole of time and space would ever truly be Tory, but Tory. She was the only woman he would intimately love or trust again.

‘Gotcha.’

As Uriah surrendered to Inanna’s will and handed over the control band, Maelgwn regained control of his body and in so doing he breathed a sigh of relief and stretched his limbs.

Inanna clipped the control module onto her wrist and turned to observe her prize in motion. Checkmate, she announced, assuming control of the Dragon at the same time. You will not harm me in any way, she instructed, or attempt to escape.

‘I intended to do neither,’ he assured her.

The night is young, she cautioned, before turning back to deal with Uriah. Take him to his brother, she advised one of the Leonines, before turning to another. You know what to do with Gibal.

The guard nodded, before turning to rally his men to transport the cases containing Gibal’s body parts out of the audience chamber.

The rest of you leave us, she commanded, turning back to feast her eyes on her superhuman toy boy.

‘I should have listened to you, Dragon,’ Uriah conceded as a couple of huge Leonine warriors hauled him from the room.

‘We all make mistakes.’ Maelgwn had to sympathise as he observed Gibal’s bits being transported who knows where. ‘May I ask what you intend to do with my Lord?’

He is not your Lord, Inanna sidestepped the question, but I have a fair idea who is. She tipped her head to one side to observe him, as the door closed behind her guards and the chamber fell quiet. You are really quite something, Dragon. She admired his form as she approached him. I was always partial to your breed, though. You are closer to the Nefilim in appearance than any of the other human breeds. But you are not of the same stock of Homo sapiens I remember from my time on Gaia. Your race has been refined somewhat.

Maelgwn said nothing as the goddess circled, observing him like prey.

Are there more like you back on Gaia? She placed both her hands on his back to extract her answer. How interesting, she concluded after a moment, whereupon she moved around in front of Maelgwn once more. Your desire betrays you, she announced. If you adore this Tory Alexander so much then see her in me.

No! Maelgwn’s protest didn’t make it past his neurones. In a heartbeat, Inanna’s presence transformed into Tory.

Desire me. She removed the wrap she wore and let it drop to the floor. Thrill me.

He was transfixed by the sight of Tory’s naked form approaching him — she appeared so genuine.

Take me, she whispered her final instruction as she wrapped her limbs around his body.

Maelgwn knew it wasn’t Tory. He was aroused only because Inanna had programmed his body to react thus. Her kiss was not Tory’s: she did not taste like her, smell like her, nor did she have the tiniest hint of her tenderness. When he closed his eyes every trace of Tory disappeared and he was left fondling an entirely different entity, one that had little regard for any of the higher emotions and no concept of what it was to really love someone. As he thought upon intimate moments with Tory, it only served to make his present predicament more repulsive. His remorse didn’t seem to be affecting his performance with Inanna, however. His body was having a whale of a time all on its own.

It was hard to determine how long the sexual encounter lasted; to Maelgwn it seemed like days. But when Inanna had finally sucked him dry of energy and information, she confined Maelgwn to one spot in her audience chamber.

Your mind is an amazing place, Dragon, she told him before departing. Most inspiring indeed. Inanna gave a menacing laugh as she glanced to the chariot and vanished.

He didn’t have the strength to move straight away. He’d fought in extended battles that had been less exhausting than the last few hours had been.

In an attempt to revive himself, Maelgwn rolled into the hot, scented pool which was fortunately placed within the part of the room he’d been confined to. The warmth of the pool restored life to his aching muscles. The scented water washed the smell of Inanna from his body and much of his ebbing disgust departed along with her scent.

As he dressed himself, Maelgwn was unable to recall ever feeling quite so low as he did at this moment. Instead of feeling revitalised and inspired, as he did after making love with Tory, he felt drained and violated. It wasn’t the moral abuse that bothered him so much as how helpless it made him feel. Taliesin had always assured him that one was never entirely powerless in any situation, and that there was always an unseen possibility that was usually right under one’s nose.

Maelgwn looked down to challenge the theory and was surprised to note something poking out from beneath a rug at his feet.

It was a tray of food from which Inanna had been feeding them both at one stage of the festivities, which must have gotten covered up during their cavorting. There was a small laser knife on the platter that wouldn’t even scratch the surface of the NERGUZ module. Then the horrid thought occurred that it might just slice through his wrist if he used considerable force.

‘Oh, please.’ Maelgwn appealed to the heavens for another way out, but when no other option presented itself, he shrugged and submitted to the idea. ‘What the heck. I have already been chopped in half today …’

He slammed the laser knife down, hard into his wrist, gritting his teeth as it hit the bone and ground its way slowly through it. Once his hand fell away, Maelgwn was able to rip the NERGUZ module from his person, its penetrative spike tearing additional flesh from his wrist as he did so. To be free of the device felt like being resurrected from the grave. The question now was what to do with the virtually indestructible piece of hardware.

After restoring his hand to its rightful place, whereupon it healed good as new, Maelgwn tried willing the NERGUZ to Marduk to safeguard — which was a feat he should have been able to execute. When nothing came of his attempts, Maelgwn had to figure that although his physical control had been restored immediately upon the device’s removal from his person, his PSI ability was going to take longer to restore itself.

‘There is still one thing I can do.’ Maelgwn shoved the band and the small knife into a pocket in his suit jacket and hurried over to the chariot.

16

Brotherly Love

Upon opening up the nose cone of the chariot to take a look at the inner circuitry, Maelgwn was confused. He had no idea what he was looking at. He had thought some knowledge of his invention would come back to him upon viewing it closely, but he recognised nothing of the design. Inanna was still in possession of the crystal, and without being able to see the drive system functioning, it was hard to tell how best to disable it.

‘Here goes nothing.’ He reached for the half dozen soft-tube connectors, which appeared to be as important as any part of the system.

No! his inner voice cried in warning. If the chariot were to be activated without those feeds, it would blow away half of this planet. Just below them is a small blue chip. Remove this and you cripple the ignition system.

The small blue chip disconnected from its housing easily, and the untrained eye would never notice it missing. ‘Many thanks, Turan.’ Maelgwn acknowledged his advisor as he shoved the chip into another pocket and attempted willing himself back to the vessel he’d arrived on. Unfortunately, movement was not forthcoming. ‘Any more advice?’ With eyes upturned to the ceiling Maelgwn deferred to his higher self, who was now deathly silent.

Obviously he could not will open the entrance door to the audience chamber, and if he used the hand scanner — as mortals had to — it would probably only serve to alert Inanna to the fact that he was mobile.

You’ll be happy to know, Dragon … Inanna made a sudden appearance facing the spot in the room where she expected he’d still be. Dragon? She turned to see him by the chariot. How did you get over there?

Another Nefilim appeared next to Inanna, a male who looked remarkably like her. His hair was snowy white and he had the same magnetic blue eyes, pale skin and subtle features that she did. Maelgwn guessed him to be her twin brother, Shamash.

You haven’t meddled with my chariot, have you? Infuriated, she stormed towards him, then noticed the NERGUZ was missing from her prisoner’s wrist. Her temper cooled and she backed up again.

Maelgwn grinned in response to her query. ‘Have I interfered with the circuitry of this transport?’ He raised his brow. ‘Why don’t you climb aboard and find out.’ He motioned to the chariot with both hands, knowing the goddess would not take him up on the dare.

But my plan won’t work without the chariot, Inanna fretted, looking to her male companion to rectify the situation for her. How shall we get to our Chosen One?

‘Your Chosen One?’ Maelgwn couldn’t allow the comment to pass.

He’s bluffing, stated Shamash, with a smug look upon his face as he completely ignored Maelgwn’s query. He’s removed the chariot’s ignition chip, which is now in the top left pocket of his jacket.

Inanna calmed, realising that Maelgwn hadn’t shielded his mind from them. Fully functional, the Dragon posed a threat to her, but not if his psychic talents were waning in the wake of his detainment. Why have you not willed yourself elsewhere, Dragon? She tested her theory.

Maelgwn didn’t have to say anything. Inanna and Shamash already knew the truth and were clearly overjoyed by his misfortune.

I’ll take that ignition chip you have in your pocket, Shamash held out his hand, and the restraining module and knife you have in your other pocket.

Maelgwn knew it was pointless to resist, as without his own psychic defences to protect him, Inanna and Shamash had the power to completely immobilise him without even lifting a finger. He pulled the chip from his pocket and, on impulse, threw it into the firepit in the centre of the room.

The piece of the chariot never hit the flames — Shamash willed the chip to himself and caught it. Thank you. Now the band and the blade.

No. The NERGUZ is mine! Inanna protested.

I just need you to lend it to me for long enough to duplicate the design. Shamash took his sister in hand to persuade her. Then you’ll have hundreds of the little mongrels at your beck and call.

But how shall I get this one to satisfy my lustful whims?

You’re a beautiful and powerful goddess, said Shamash, as if the answer was obvious. Torture him into submission. He kissed Inanna’s extended neck and managed to persuade her into favouring his request.

That could be fun, she admitted, as she transformed into Tory once again.

The Nefilim could assume any form they chose, just as the Chosen could, and Inanna now knew what Tory looked like — she didn’t need will-crushing devices to maintain the deception.

How long will you be with my NERGUZ? Inanna turned to face Maelgwn, and allowed her brother to expose her breasts and fondle them. We wouldn’t want him recovering and disappearing on us.

As Maelgwn watched Tory seducing Shamash, he took great comfort in knowing his real wife was safe back on Gaia. Still, if he didn’t think of some way of reversing this calamity soon, the horrid illusion he witnessed at present might well become a reality.

I’ll only need your precious toy a few hours. Shamash held his opened hand out towards Maelgwn.

The NERGUZ and the laser knife tore through the organic fibre of Maelgwn’s jacket pocket and flew straight into the Lord’s clutch. Still, I don’t know why you bother with this one. He’ll never give you what you want.

He has already impregnated one infertile woman, Inanna enlightened them all. Why not two?

‘Aquilla.’ The news hit Maelgwn like a bullet in the brain.

Oh, don’t worry, Inanna said from behind the guise of his wife. I did you a favour and terminated it. Now no one need ever know about your little indiscretion.

Maelgwn’s blood began to boil, and he realised Inanna felt his rage and thrived on it, but it was beyond his feeble skills to refrain from lashing out.

Before Maelgwn had covered half the ground between the goddess and himself, Shamash willed a change of course for the Dragon, setting him on a breakneck collision with the reinforced metal wall. The velocity of the impact proved sufficient to knock Maelgwn out cold.

Pain propelled Maelgwn back to consciousness. He awoke chained up in the middle of an icy torture chamber, shivering violently as four large Leonine warriors beat him to a pulp. Stripped of his jacket and boots, the organic fibre of his trousers kept Maelgwn’s legs as warm as toast, but his upper body and his feet were frozen.

Wake up, lover. Tory, all rugged up to endure the cold, smiled at him warmly. It’s decision time.

Inanna. Maelgwn acknowledged the deception to himself, unable to verbalise it, as his face was flattened by yet another blinding blow.

The guards ceased their sport and backed off to give their ruler some room to work. As Inanna moved to circle the Dragon, she revealed two figures cowering on the ice behind her. Maelgwn strained his swollen eyes to make out Uriah and Durak shivering with cold, for they too had been stripped to their trousers.

There have been a few developments while you were out, Inanna advised. My brother is yet to return with your restraint, and I find I must evacuate the city. I am headed for Gaia, she announced casually and was gratified by the dread that the notion stirred in Maelgwn. I know you have loved ones there and I would dearly love to take you with me …

‘But?’ Maelgwn spat out the word, blood along with it; he was so badly beaten that his genetic structure was taking some time to repair all the damage.

But … you must devote yourself to me, the Goddess stated her terms. Worship my personage and my cause only.

Maelgwn began to laugh, which must have been a nervous reaction. Still, the resolute defiance that accompanied his laughter filled him with inner strength. ‘Not of my own free will, Inanna. That will never happen.’

But very soon this entire planet is going to be scattered to the four ends of the universe, my sweet, she clarified.

Maelgwn raised himself up to look the Goddess in the eye. What have you done with Aquilla?

Inanna backed away, immediately infuriated by the mention of another woman and her guards moved in to freshen up the prisoner’s injuries.

Enough! She ordered her thugs back out of the way. Join us, Dragon. Inanna’s annoyance distorted her voice to the point where it was so harsh and spiteful that one could not define if it belonged to a male or a female.

Maelgwn, barely able to hold himself upright, shook his head.

Join us, or die.

He raised his dark sights to view his tormentor. ‘Then I choose death.’

Stubborn fool!

Energy shot like lightning from Inanna’s fingertips, inflicting Maelgwn with grievous pain. Only when his body hung limp in the restraints did Inanna cease her assault.

Stay here then, and die with the fish. There are plenty more immortal genes where you came from.

Inanna turned to exit the torture chamber, but turned back to add: And as this immortal ape woman you are so fond of will now be without a significant other, I shall be sure and put her out of her misery. After my brother and I toy with her awhile, of course. It might be interesting to walk around in her skin.

Maybe Maelgwn had just been belted one time too many, but he wasn’t following Inanna’s meaning. He managed to raise his head, and if he’d been able to see the Goddess more clearly he would have looked her in the eye.

So, even if you do surprise me and survive this day, when you are again joined with your beloved wife, remember to look deep into her eyes, Dragon, for you might just find me there.

Maelgwn gave a muffled cry of protest as Inanna finally departed, her guards falling in behind her.

‘Dragon?’ It pained Uriah to move his frozen limbs, but he managed to crawl over to where the warrior hung, and cowered at his feet. ‘This is all my fault.’ He shivered violently as he spoke. ‘I didn’t realise the implications … I never suspected the Nefilim were so powerful.’

‘If you are looking for absolution, Uriah,’ Maelgwn strained to speak as his throat was swollen and sore, ‘I cannot give it. But I don’t blame you for wanting to free your brother.’

Uriah looked up into Maelgwn’s face to find it healing rapidly.

‘Still, if we don’t get Durak up and mobile soon, he’s going to freeze to death and then this has all been for naught.’

Uriah looked back to find Durak keeled over on the ice. ‘Oh, no.’

As his pain subsided, Maelgwn stood up and tugged on his restraints. ‘You are going to have to do it on your own.’ Maelgwn decided that his bonds weren’t going to give. ‘Get up, Uriah,’ he encouraged him. ‘My jacket and boots.’ Maelgwn pointed to where they’d been discarded on the ice. ‘Put them on.’

‘But I am completely numb,’ he shivered. ‘Nothing will respond.’

‘Your brother is dying!’ Maelgwn yelled to get him motivated.

‘I know!’ Uriah cried as he pulled himself across the frozen surface towards the clothing.

‘No,’ Maelgwn insisted, ‘you have to get up off the ice.’

‘I can’t!’ Uriah began to sob as he struggled to raise himself.

‘Rubbish!’ Maelgwn roared. ‘You got us all into this mess, so you can bloody well get up off your behind and get us out of it!’ He didn’t really mean what he said, but the abuse riled the lad and Uriah was motivated to raise himself.

Once the boots were on, Uriah’s feet and lower legs started working and he ran to put the jacket on his brother. ‘Durak!’ He fell to his knees and pulled him into his lap. Uriah wrapped the jacket about his brother and held him tight. ‘Please don’t die now.’ His teeth chattered as he spoke, yet Uriah felt the warmth of the other body slowly thawing his own. ‘You’ve survived so much.’

Durak’s eyes fluttered open and slowly turned to view Maelgwn. ‘You are one of the Lord Enki’s Chosen Ones?’

Maelgwn nodded. ‘Aquilla told me you found Enki’s doctrine.’ He invited Durak to expand on the subject.

The dying man seemed to be preoccupied with other thoughts, however. ‘You are my perfect embodiment?’

‘I am,’ Maelgwn assured him.

‘Then you must find another of the stations Enki built in secret,’ Durak mumbled, desperate to impart the nature of his life’s work to his Chosen incarnation in the few minutes of life he had left. ‘The station I found was destroyed by Inanna, but there are others.’

The look on the Delphinus archaeologist’s face was one of utter hopelessness. Maelgwn wasn’t following his meaning but it mattered not. ‘Save your breath, my friend, we are one, you and I. I can recall thy entire life, for indeed it was my own. I shall see to thy dying wish, Durak, fear not.’

The dying archaeologist smiled at this. ‘The light of the Logos is with you. The prophecy is —’

As his brother suddenly sank from his embrace, Uriah tried to revive him by shaking him awake, but Durak did not respond. ‘No, you have to live!’ He gathered up the lifeless body and wept bitterly.

‘Damn.’ Maelgwn didn’t know how to feel upon witnessing one of his own deaths. Still, he knew he must have been of great comfort to himself in those final moments. Right now, he had to worry about this incarnation being dispersed into the universe in all directions for eternity — this was not how he envisaged his future. ‘Put the jacket on, Uriah,’ he instructed, but the lad was despondent with grief. ‘Durak’s immortal self is right here! Don’t you dare give up on us now,’ he roared, and the lad looked up to meet his stare.

Maelgwn felt the Dragon come over him, as it only did in times of severe crisis. He observed the outline of his shadow on the ice — it was the silhouette of the beast, Rufus, that he saw there. The Dragon was no longer bound to manifest on the physical plane of existence, but his command, courage and inspiration were always welcome attributes to possess when trying to win someone around to your way of thinking.

Uriah also noticed the shadow of the beast on the ice, and the commanding presence that emanated from Maelgwn. ‘What are you, really?’ He sat upright as his wonder overtook his pain. ‘I have come to hate the Nefilim Gods, both for their debauched behaviour and the Pantheon’s complacency over anything to do with the plight of the human races. These Gods’ glow with the enlightenment of divine beings, and yet they have no basic concept of love. And then there is you, whose compassion seems never-ending. I mean, what does it take to get on your bad side? Do you have one?’

Maelgwn shrugged. He was the way he was because he knew no other way, his teachers and advisors had done their job well. ‘Even I do not understand the full purpose of my existence. But I have known you as a Homo sapiens, Uriah. I know that you will one day be what I am. I know that together we shall somehow put an end to the Nefilim rule, for that is a large part of the reason we, the Chosen, have been created. I know you have had more success with winning battles with your intellect than with weapons … and I would strongly suggest a written form of revolutionary action next time.’ Maelgwn made a joke of their sad predicament and how badly they’d both handled it.

The shadow of the Dragon backed away as the lad lifted the jacket from his brother’s corpse and slid himself inside it. He was wearing the most peculiar look on his face. ‘I’ve always had aspirations to write,’ he said, intrigued by what the Dragon had told him. The fibre immediately adjusted to fit his form and expanded to the required thickness to thaw his frozen body. ‘Oh Goddess, that feels amazing.’ His teeth stopped chattering as he flipped up the collar and the ends of his sleeves extended to swathe his freezing hands. ‘Sorry, Dragon.’ He moved over to see if he could assist to free him from his bonds. ‘Do you feel the cold?’

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Maelgwn chattered. ‘Were I not psychically disabled at present, I could rise above its effects —’

‘But you are not wearing the Nerguz?’ Uriah pointed out.

‘It has a few side effects it would seem.’ Maelgwn didn’t know how long he’d been passed out and as his PSI might have restored itself, he tried willing himself out of the restraints.

‘How do you think Inanna knows that this planet is going to self-destruct?’ Uriah asked, as the Dragon had gone quiet.

‘She didn’t say it would self-destruct.’ With a heavy sigh, Maelgwn gave up on his psychic skills. ‘She said it would be scattered to the four ends of the universe.’

‘You think she means to blow it up!’ Uriah gasped. ‘But how?’

Their attention was drawn to the door of the ice chamber as it opened.

‘Zerrah!’ Uriah thanked his lucky stars to see the captain with several weapons in hand. ‘I thought they must have captured you. How did you find us?’

‘I came for you,’ Zerrah informed Uriah, observing the Dragon dubiously as always.

Zerrah obviously still suspected that the Dragon was responsible for shooting him unconscious back on the ship. Uriah had attacked from behind so he would be none the wiser.

‘It’s time to tell the truth, Uriah,’ Maelgwn urged. ‘We can still salvage this situation.’

Uriah took a moment to consider his options and all that he had learned from this experience. ‘The Dragon is not the man you’ve been hunting, Zerrah.’ The young diplomat looked to the captain to set him straight. ‘It was me … me, and Aquilla.’

‘What?’ Zerrah approached Uriah, unable to believe what he was being told. ‘Why?’

‘I never told you that Durak was my older brother,’ Uriah enlightened him, and motioned to the corpse laying on the ice. ‘He was not killed as everyone was told, but kidnapped.’

Zerrah moved to inspect the body, without interrupting Uriah’s confession.

‘When Inanna found out that Gibal had granted someone access to his precious lab, she decided she must control that someone. Durak was the best way to get to Aquilla. Your sister confided in me, unable to let me go on believing my brother was dead. I joined her cause and there you have it.’

Zerrah appeared stunned by the news, but the motive did hold water. ‘So why have I not picked up on your involvement telepathically?’

‘Aquilla and myself have mini thought wave neutralisers that are implanted under our skin so as to be undetectable … courtesy of Shamash technologies.’ Uriah stretched out his right wrist to show Zerrah the device that could be vaguely seen beneath the skin there.

The young captain had gone rather pale, but he said nothing as he rose from ascertaining that Durak was definitely dead this time.

‘We have been biding our time in Gibal’s service, waiting for a prize that would appease Inanna. When Aquilla stumbled upon the Dragon and found out about the device that he was being sent to protect, we decided to steal the technology to buy back Durak.’

‘Hold on.’ Zerrah found a glitch in the story. ‘How could Aquilla have telepathically probed the Dragon for information. A thought wave neutraliser would prevent that?’

‘Cornelin did the probing at Aquilla’s suggestion and she recorded Cornelin’s observations. He thought it was just a bit of a laugh at the time. Or that’s what we thought he thought.’ Uriah shook his head slowly, stunned and remorseful at his own brutality; he’d very much liked Cornelin, but killing him had seemed the only option in the heat of the moment. ‘After Aquilla committed the theft, Cornelin got wise to us and threatened to turn us in if we didn’t return the NERGUZ.’

‘So long, Cornelin.’ Zerrah gave Uriah a sideways look, having never suspected him of being capable of murder.

‘I entrapped Gibal with the NERGUZ long enough to dismember him and load him into cases.’ Uriah appalled the young captain further. ‘Aquilla seduced the Dragon, to steal the back-up detection device Gibal gave him —’

‘You had sexual relations with my sister?’ Zerrah was enraged, and without a second’s hesitation, slugged Maelgwn’s newly repaired face.

‘Aquilla planted the devices in the room of the Leonine officials to throw you off the scent, whilst I loaded the ship.’ Uriah spoke up to distract the captain from seeking further retribution. ‘I was the one who left you for dead in the cargo hold. The Dragon saved your life by putting you into stasis.’

Zerrah calmed and frowned as he absorbed the information. He looked to the Dragon, who nodded to confirm Uriah’s story. ‘My mistake. I apologise for accusing you,’ Zerrah conceded. ‘But that doesn’t excuse you for Aquilla.’

‘I realise that,’ Maelgwn stammered. ‘Look at where it landed me.’

Zerrah broke into a smile, realising he had no further gripe with the foreign warrior. ‘Say, Dragon, you’re looking a little blue around the gills … your skin is nearly the same colour as mine. It might be a bright idea if we got you out of here.’ He blasted Maelgwn free of his chains, leaving the lightweight charichalum shackles dangling around his wrists and ankles. ‘Where is Aquilla?’

Maelgwn was jumping up and down and shaking himself to get his circulation going, but he stopped still to answer. ‘Last we heard she was in Inanna’s laboratory.’

‘Inanna’s laboratory?’ Zerrah didn’t understand. ‘Why there and not a prison cell?’

‘Aquilla was with child,’ Maelgwn confessed, clenching his jaw to curb his anger. ‘Now she isn’t.’

The young captain’s jaw fell in the wake of this news, and just for a moment words escaped him. ‘We had best go get her.’

‘We’ll be spotted!’ Uriah was clearly not too keen on the idea.

‘I doubt it,’ Zerrah scoffed, as he tossed Uriah and Maelgwn a pulse blaster each. ‘The city is deserted.’

‘That was quick,’ Uriah said, horrified, as he knew why it had been vacated so abruptly.

‘If Inanna has control of the planet’s destruction,’ Maelgwn mused as he exited the ice chamber with Uriah and Zerrah on his heels, ‘then why does it feel like she’s running away from something?’

Zerrah caught Maelgwn up to interrupt. ‘What do you mean by “the planet’s destruction”?’

‘Just that,’ said Maelgwn.

‘When?’ Zerrah began to panic.

‘We don’t know when … soon!’ Maelgwn was agitated by the questions as he was trying to think.

They had entered Inanna’s main prison complex and were astonished to find all the cells empty.

‘Deserted is right,’ Uriah commented, spying the abandoned security station and the PKA database terminal therein. ‘Hey, we can find out where the lab is.’ He motioned his companions to follow.

The information Uriah sought was minimum level security and fully accessible to anybody within the city. The location map that showed the way to the lab displayed itself in brilliant colour on the invisible screen. This stood perpendicular in the middle of the round table that hosted the small PKA plate that drove the system — on this, Uriah’s hand was placed.

‘Excellent,’ commented Zerrah as he viewed the layout. ‘The lab is practically next door.’ He made a move in that direction.

‘Could we check for approaching craft within this star system from this terminal?’ Maelgwn delayed Uriah from rising.

‘Sure,’ he requested the information, whereupon data filled the screen. ‘Most of the craft are departing … hold on, there is one large craft headed towards Laarsa.’

‘Identification,’ Maelgwn prompted.

‘City central intelligence advises,’ Uriah looked to the Dragon, ‘it is Mazua.’

‘Oh dear.’ Maelgwn winced. ‘What if the Aten’s still towing the city, and we’re not picking her up because she’s cloaked.’

‘Maybe Inanna is running from the Mazua, believing that they are coming to accuse her of their Lord’s disappearance,’ Uriah suggested. ‘In which case, she may not have detected the Aten.’

‘Either way she’s got a target,’ Maelgwn frowned.

‘Good point,’ Uriah granted.

Maelgwn’s mind was mulling over scenarios. ‘If there was an explosive device planted within the city limits, the security systems would have detected it and set of the alarms, am I right?’

Uriah nodded and, following the Dragon’s train of thought, called up more information from the database. ‘Even if the alarm had been shut off, the system would still be registering the explosive device and,’ he shook his head as he looked from the screen to Maelgwn, ‘it isn’t.’

‘What about a natural anomaly, like a pending earthquake, asteroid, or meteor shower?’

Uriah shrugged. ‘Same deal.’

‘She must have a weapon,’ Maelgwn concluded. ‘And if Inanna has a device capable of destroying this entire planet, it would finish off the Aten and the Mazua fairly efficiently. Can you contact the Mazua from here?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Tell them —’

‘They are not going to listen to me,’ Uriah declined, already issuing the contact demand into the database via the palm of his right hand. In his left hand Uriah held a headset which he passed to the Dragon.

‘I’m getting something now,’ Uriah advised, switching on the optional speakers so he could listen in.

‘This is Dragon command to the Mazua. Are you receiving me, please respond.’ Maelgwn closed his eyes and prayed for a friendly voice.

‘Reading you loud and clear, Commander,’ Candace responded, with the sound of a rowdy cheering crowd behind her. ‘You had us real worried, I can tell you.’

Maelgwn guessed the entire squad was present and he hated that he’d let them all down. ‘You have bigger concerns, I’m sorry to say,’ he began. ‘You must take your vessel back from whence it came. Inanna intends to destroy Laarsa. Please confirm.’

‘Dragon, you are to return to base without delay.’ Candace relayed the order. ‘Confirm.’

‘You can’t just leave us here,’ Uriah objected. ‘You’re the only hope we’ve got.’

‘Uriah, please,’ Maelgwn said aside to the lad, ‘there is no question of that … believe me,’ he mumbled to himself, trying to figure how best to explain his situation to mission control. ‘Negative that, Mazua. I am disarmed and disabled, conditions are unfavourable. Do not, I repeat, do not send reconnaissance. The city has been evacuated and Laarsa could blow at any moment. Inanna and Shamash have the merchandise, and are headed towards Gaia. They know about the Chosen. I expect that Inanna’s forces will be headed your way before long and advise that you withdraw without delay. Beat our foe to Gaia and head off this catastrophe. May the Goddess be with you all. Over and out.’ Maelgwn ripped off the headset and cast it on the table. ‘Terminate the transmission,’ he ordered and Uriah obliged.

‘No, Dragon —’

‘You do have a plan to get us off this rock, don’t you?’ Uriah found Maelgwn’s report to base a bit discouraging.

‘The universe will provide.’ Maelgwn forced a smile as he headed out of the security station to find the lab and Aquilla.

Once they entered the adjoining laboratories it wasn’t hard to find Aquilla; they just followed the sound of the weeping woman. Her sorrowful sobs led to an observation room where Zerrah sat close up to the glass division, speaking quietly with his distraught sister who was locked in the laboratory beyond.

‘Oh no,’ Uriah uttered as he viewed the set-up, ‘it’s a bio containment lab.’

‘So?’ Maelgwn hauled Uriah back out into the corridor.

‘The Nefilim use them to contain potentially obnoxious life forms.’ Uriah’s knowledge flustered him. He didn’t want to convey the sad news.

‘And?’ Maelgwn shook him to hurry him along.

‘Once locked, to safeguard against escape, if the lab is in any way breached … she’ll be gassed.’

Maelgwn’s grip on the lad loosened, as reality sank a dagger through his heart.

‘Any suggestions?’ Zerrah joined them in the corridor.

‘Uriah seems to be the expert.’ Maelgwn referred the captain to the lad, who slowly shook his head in response to the query.

‘Without the security code, there is nothing we can do,’ Uriah informed them regretfully.

As Maelgwn entered the observation room to speak with Aquilla, she stood facing him in the middle of the window, both hands rested on her belly. ‘They killed my babe,’ she uttered, as her tears ran rivers down her cheeks. ‘Durak is dead, and now it is my turn.’

‘No, Aquilla, we’ll figure —’

‘There is no time,’ she wept, imploring him to listen. ‘I hid Gibal’s detection device in my quarters on the Mazua. You will find it in my pillow.’

Aquilla managed a bleak smile as Maelgwn came up close to the window and placed his hands upon the glass. On the quiet, he was hoping to pass right through the barrier and spirit Aquilla away to safety. Tears of frustration built in his eyes as the glass remained firm at his fingertips. He thought about contacting the Mazua — all he needed was one member of his squad and he could get her out. But he’d already jeopardised the future of too many people on behalf of this woman. It wouldn’t be right to risk another life.

‘I feel this is what I deserve after how I deceived you.’ Aquilla seemed to want to reach out to him, but refrained. ‘Please believe, I didn’t want to do it, but I was already in so deep I —’

‘I allowed myself to be deceived,’ Maelgwn insisted, whereby Aquilla’s tears welled for a second time.

‘You are such a wonder, Maelgwn of Gwynedd.’ Her voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘You must survive … you must leave here … now.’ Aquilla gripped hold of a seat and swung it at the observation window.

Although the blow didn’t come anywhere near to shattering the barrier, Maelgwn backed away. ‘No, Aquilla, don’t do it,’ he pleaded under his breath, knowing he was powerless to stop her as she had already made up her mind.

The massive thud brought Zerrah and Uriah running.

‘What is she doing? She’ll never break the window.’ Zerrah watched in horror as his sister took another run at the transparent barrier with the chair. ‘All she’ll do is set off the security system.’

This time the impact was sufficient to trip the lab defenses, and toxic gas began filling the containment area.

Aquilla staggered up to the window, gasping and coughing as the billowing green substance crippled her. ‘Survive.’ She stared hard at Maelgwn as she slid down the window and onto the floor.

Her life was over in an instant, and Maelgwn suppressed his tears as he observed her body still convulsing from the effects of the gas. This kind of abuse cannot, and will not, continue.

Suddenly the reason why he’d been sent on this mission became clear. The powers that be meant to fuel his desire for the greater quest at hand — the downfall of the Nefilim. Increasingly aware of this soul-quest, Maelgwn wondered if Marduk knew of it.

‘If anyone is of the mind to carry out Aquilla’s dying wish,’ Uriah dared to break the silence, ‘we’d better do something about it, yesterday.’

Maelgwn emerged from his blind daze and nodded to agree.

Zerrah was still staring at his departed sister. The hardened warrior had been reduced to tears by the event, but he endured his grief in complete silence.

‘Let’s move.’ Maelgwn walked to the door and Uriah followed, but Zerrah was clearly not going to budge. ‘Zerrah, we are already pushing our luck.’

‘Go without me,’ he snarled, his emotions bursting forth as he was forced to break his silence. ‘Damn it all! Just do as she said!’

‘I’m not moving until you do,’ Maelgwn stated, in no uncertain terms. ‘Please don’t make me shoot you.’

‘I’ll shoot you if you don’t get out of here!’ Zerrah raised his weapon and aimed it at the Dragon.

‘Go right ahead.’ Maelgwn seemed fairly complacent about the threat. ‘At least then you’ll be forced to carry me to a vehicle, and save me the trouble of hauling you.’

‘What is the point?’ Zerrah cried. ‘All my kin have been murdered! If I survive to have children, the same horrid life of abuse awaits them.’

‘No.’ Maelgwn stated. ‘Things are going to change.’

‘And how do you know?’ Zerrah scoffed, knowing nothing about Maelgwn’s background.

‘Dragon!’

A faint cry was heard from another part of the building.

‘Commander!’

Several voices were heard to call repeatedly.

‘He’s here,’ Uriah ran into the corridor to hail them, without care for who it was — any possible means of escape was good at this point.

Maelgwn remained where he was, staring Zerrah out. He recognised one of the voices calling for him as belonging to Candace. As she was the Chosen female incarnation of Zerrah’s immortal self, he figured that perhaps she could get the young captain motivated about life.

‘We are both going to die.’ Zerrah was frustrated by Maelgwn’s persistence as the sound of several people running down the corridor towards them was heard.

‘Commander, praise the Goddess.’ Candace breathed a sigh of relief as she came through the door and saw him.

As Cadwell entered, he placed a hand over the communicator on his chest to inform the other two members of the search party. ‘We’ve got him.’

‘I told you not to come.’ Maelgwn pretended to be annoyed with them.

‘A higher power overruled your command. We traced your transmission to the prison complex and began our search there,’ she concluded, knowing her commander was relieved beyond words to see them. ‘And you’re most welcome,’ Candace advised with a large smile.

Maelgwn looked to Zerrah to find him wide-eyed and smitten by the sight of the Homo sapiens warrior woman. ‘Neither of us need die today, please come with us?’ he implored the captain, whereupon Candace turned her attention Zerrah’s way. Maelgwn could tell she was delighted to discover who he was, but she was also aware of the Delphinus male’s prevailing sorrow. She wandered over to the lab window and when she viewed who was laying dead within, Candace looked at Maelgwn with a look of deep sympathy upon her face.

‘I am sorry,’ she said, as her attention turned to Zerrah. ‘And I know this is a lot for me, a total stranger, to ask you to believe right now, but,’ she took hold of the Delphinus warrior’s hands, ‘there is someone back on the Aten that you have to meet.’

The claim of the beautiful foreigner was so unexpected, that Zerrah’s curiosity began to weaken his prior resolve. He had never known her before this moment and yet, she was so familiar, like someone from a dream.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Maelgwn spoke up as Zerrah appeared completely at a loss. ‘Go with Candace, and if she doesn’t make good her word, I’ll shoot you myself.’

Zerrah seldom cracked a smile, and considering his circumstances he was as surprised as any by his reaction, but inside himself he knew that the brave thing to do was to survive the day.

Candace, sensing Zerrah’s resolve, looked to Maelgwn and winked as she vanished with the man she held.

As Talynn and Sybil made an appearance, an almighty tremor began to rock the city.

‘We’re out of here.’ Cadwell grabbed hold of Maelgwn and the two women linked hands with Uriah.

‘What’s happening?’ Uriah hollered as everything around him was engulfed by bright blue-white light.

17

Altered Impressions

The rest of Dragon squad were manning a reconnaissance vessel that was stationed just beyond the shadow of Laarsa’s smallest moon. This craft had been launched as soon as the Aten had entered the Dinara system, to be used as a point of advance or retreat for the squad during their mission to recover their commander.

Upon arriving on the flight deck of the medium-sized craft, Maelgwn witnessed the most extraordinary sight.

Out through the front shield window, the surface of the planet was changing. Blizzards and storm activity ceased, as mile by mile the terrain of Laarsa changed from white to grey.

‘What is happening?’ Candace demanded an update from Cadwallon, who was still accessing Elima’s central database after tracing Maelgwn’s transmission.

‘That’s a damn fine question,’ Zerrah mumbled, still stunned by his unusual passage forth. ‘Who are you people?’

‘I feel sure that Uriah will fill you in.’ Maelgwn motioned the young captain to a seat out of the way.

Uriah seemed rather high in the wake of his first experience of etheric teleportation. He just couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. ‘Glad to, Dragon.’ He sat down with Zerrah and Maelgwn moved to converse with his people.

‘What did Elima City Central register that tremor as?’ he questioned Cadwallon, most curious to learn what the technological readouts disclosed.

‘A sonic impact on the far side of the planet,’ Cadwallon advised.

‘And we felt it in Elima?’ Cadwell exhaled heavily and raised both brows. ‘That’s some explosion.’

‘But there isn’t anything on the far side of the planet?’ It didn’t make sense in Maelgwn’s opinion. ‘There is nothing that could have exploded. There is nothing worth firing at.’ It had him stumped. If you were going to fire at Laarsa, why not aim for the only city? ‘Where was Inanna’s ship placed in all of this?’ Maelgwn turned his attention to Rebecca who was in charge of the tracking systems.

‘Her ship docked with one of Shamash’s large deep-space voyagers, which disappeared from our monitors as soon as it activated its cloaking device. The vessel was headed towards the wormhole at the time it disappeared, shortly before you got here,’ Rebecca informed.

‘So, it’s doubtful the ship she was on was responsible for the blast,’ Maelgwn concluded.

‘According to our monitors, there were transports on that side of the planet at the time, but none of the vessels we were tracking discharged a weapon,’ Rebecca further advised.

‘Elima is now recording a massive seismic anomaly that is spreading itself, not just over the planet’s surface, but all the way through to the core of Laarsa.’ Cadwallon’s eyes scanned the information on the screen. ‘No.’ He decided the data was wrong. ‘The climate monitoring systems must have been damaged by the blast. These readouts can’t be right … not unless every particle on the planet is miraculously turning into stone.’ He forced a laugh, thinking the scenario preposterous.

‘And yet that’s exactly what appears to be happening,’ Maelgwn mumbled, noting the expanding grey cloak on the planet was about to engulf the city of Elima.

On the invisible screen that arose from Cadwallon’s work-station the scrolling data from Elima froze up. Try as he did, Cadwallon could not restore contact with the city’s database. ‘The system’s dead.’

‘So it would appear.’ Maelgwn stared at the planet that was almost entirely grey.

I have a very bad feeling about this. Sibyl, the seer of the squad, rose from her seat to urge them along. We should leave the monitors running and abandon ship, immediately!

‘Is the Aten still attached to the Mazua?’ Maelgwn asked Cadwell, as the rest of the squad readied themselves to depart.

Cadwell shook his head. ‘Upon your advice Marduk is heading the Aten back to the Sirius system. We evacuated the Mazua and left it floating this side of the wormhole as a decoy.’

‘What about the projects in Gibal’s lab?’ There would be little point to restoring Gibal if everything he lived for had been destroyed.

‘It has all been transferred to the Aten.’ Cadwell set Maelgwn’s mind at rest.

As everyone had gathered in the centre of the control deck to teleport themselves and the other survivors to the Aten, Maelgwn delayed Cadwell from joining them. ‘I need you to get me to the Mazua. We’ll see you back at the Aten,’ he advised Candace, who nodded confirmation.

‘Don’t be long,’ she urged, before vanishing with Uriah, Zerrah and the rest of the Dragon squad.

All of the Chosen wore thought wave neutralisers to prevent any who had not been given clearance from learning their secrets. It also granted them privacy from each other, until the demi-gods all advanced to a level of awareness where they did not feel the need to shield their thoughts.

Cadwell removed the thought wave neutraliser he wore, whereby Maelgwn gripped hold of Cadwell’s arm to relay the image of Aquilla’s quarters on the Mazua to him. ‘Got it?’ he queried his grandson, who smiled accordingly.

‘We’re there, Grandpa.’ Cadwell held the picture in his mind and willed himself to that place.

The detection device was right where Aquilla had said it would be. Maelgwn was of the mind to use it and go straight after Gibal, but Cadwell declined to aid him with the task.

‘We don’t know where that thing is going to lead us? What if Inanna cast Gibal into a black hole? Or, what if the Lord is still on Laarsa?’ explained Cadwell, clipping the thought wave neutraliser back onto his wrist.

‘Point taken,’ Maelgwn granted, as he looked the detection device over and found a couple of sockets in one end. ‘It looks as though we can plug this into the database. Let’s see if we can locate Gibal that way, hey?’

‘Now you’re thinking.’ Cadwell seconded the plan.

As a king, Maelgwn had come to rely on having many people to bounce his decisions off. This solo mission had been a real test of self-reliance, which, judging from the outcome of his quest, could use some work.

‘The security station is just up the hall. We can use the PK terminal in there.’ Maelgwn smiled as he led the way.

Although Cadwell now wore the guise of his grandson, to Maelgwn this soul-mind would always be Vortipor, whom he trusted implicitly.

As Maelgwn plugged the locator into the terminal, Cadwell wandered over to the wall of security screens in the middle of the room to see if he could get a visual of Laarsa on one of them.

After zooming in on his target, he turned to get Maelgwn’s attention. ‘Well, Laarsa is still there. What made you think that Inanna was going to destroy it?’

Whilst the detection device fed its information into the city’s central database, Maelgwn turned to respond to Vortipor’s question, just in time to see the on-screen image of Laarsa explode into a million pieces.

‘Holy moley!’ Cadwell backed away from the transmission, stunned by the event.

‘What made me think Laarsa was going to be destroyed?’ Maelgwn summed up. ‘Inanna suggested as much.’

‘So this was, more than likely, not a natural anomaly but a manufactured one?’ Cadwell was rarely rattled, but the proposition of such a weapon was most disconcerting,

‘I sure hope not,’ Maelgwn stared at the blank space where Laarsa had once been. ‘I have no evidence. It’s just a hunch … that I’d be more than happy to be proven wrong,’ he emphasised. ‘Let’s hope Gibal wasn’t still on the planet.’

As the PK terminal began beeping to advise that it had reached its conclusions, Maelgwn and Cadwell looked back to its large invisible screen that was now mapping out the course between the Mazua and the missing Lord — or his head at least.

‘Oh, very amusing.’ Maelgwn commented as he viewed the information on the planet that had been pinpointed as the host. ‘Do you feel like a swim, Cadwell? Inanna has deposited Gibal’s head in the deepest abyss on Lura.’

‘That’s around where the Aten would be at present,’ Cadwell guessed. ‘I suggest we report in with what we know and then take it from there.’

But Maelgwn was hesitant to run with the normal protocol. ‘I would dearly love to make good at least part of my disaster before I return to base.’ He looked to his grandson to appeal, but Cadwell only frowned.

‘There is only so much of a burden one spine can take before it will snap. It’s time to share some of your load, Grandfather.’

‘But you don’t understand why I failed,’ Maelgwn argued, knowing the thought wave neutraliser Cadwell wore would prevent him from perceiving the truth for himself.

‘There is no success or failure, only that which prevails,’ Cadwell advised firmly, before adopting a more civil tone. ‘I know you don’t feel it, because you’re running on adrenalin, but you are very badly injured. I’m no healer and even I can see the shadow that is cloaking your subtle body.’

Maelgwn was frustrated by Cadwell’s advice. He was doing his best not to think about anything that had happened to him on this mission — if he returned to the Aten they would force him to confront the dreaded memories. ‘I’m afraid that if I stop,’ he began to tremble violently as he confessed, ‘I shall fall apart completely.’

‘Better to fall apart and have a complete rebuild, then go on pushing a damaged vehicle.’ Cadwell approached to place a comforting hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. ‘You have done as much as any man could.’ As Maelgwn forced a laugh to differ, Cadwell clarified: ‘We have the means to find Gibal, you have delivered most of his lab to the Aten as promised, and you have discovered our enemies intentions … you have earned a rest, Dragon, we can take it from here.’

Maelgwn gave a heavy sigh, not daring to think of the part of his failure that his squad didn’t know about. ‘If I go with you back to the Aten, I want your assurance that I shall still be permitted to go after Gibal.’

‘Hey, you’re the commander.’ Cadwell shrugged off the responsibility. ‘It is Marduk you must convince, not I.’

Maelgwn, having no psychic ability of his own, knew he would be forced to bend to Cadwell’s will in any case. ‘Back to base then,’ he resolved, with some reluctance.

‘You will be glad of this decision, Dragon,’ Cadwell expressed his heartfelt opinion, when a tremor rocked the Mazua. ‘This feels familiar.’

Cadwell and Maelgwn looked to the security screens to see the rear of the space station begin to transform into stone. The grey cloak made its way towards the main body of the Mazua, engulfing, not only the ground dwellings and the base of the vessel, but the transparent dome force field that rose over the city. Some of the ground surveillance transmissions at the rear of the vessel were terminated, as their transmitters were destroyed, and one by one the security screens began to go blank.

‘Time to leave.’ Cadwell grabbed hold of his grandfather and envisioned the Star Chamber in the Aten.

The large quartz throne in Marduk’s Star Chamber was vacant when they arrived. Only Seshut was waiting in attendance. Her eyes filled with sympathy the moment she laid eyes on Maelgwn — obviously his aura told the whole sordid story of his misadventure.

‘Welcome back, Commander,’ Seshut smiled warmly.

‘Oh no!’ Maelgwn had a panic attack when he saw the Merlin. ‘I don’t need to be psychoanalysed right now. What I need is to see Marduk.’

Seshut shook her head slowly. ‘The only way to Marduk is through me … you have fears that need to be addressed, some of which you are not even aware of.’

‘Will this take long?’ the warrior queried in a frustrated fashion. ‘Gibal, or part thereof, is lying at the bottom of an abyss!’

‘Cadwell will report to the Lord Marduk.’ Seshut nodded to grant him leave.

‘Don’t you dare leave this vessel without me,’ Maelgwn cautioned his grandson in a tone that was most unbecoming; the emotional damage sustained during his ordeal was looking for a release.

‘And why is it so important that you go to retrieve Gibal?’ Seshut queried politely, drawing the Dragon’s attention back towards her as Cadwell departed.

‘You know why!’ Maelgwn accused, his pent-up anger surging to the fore. ‘He was my responsibility! He trusted me to protect him.’

‘And you did your best,’ Seshut advised.

It puzzled Maelgwn that she thought so. He was wearing no thought wave neutraliser, yet she failed to mention that he’d been seduced from duty by the wrong kind of woman. ‘You knew all this was going to happen, didn’t you?’

Seshut nodded. ‘As did you … what appears as a misfortune shall prove very much to our favour. From injustice, justice will be done.’

The statement brought Adama’s prophecy flooding back to Maelgwn, and he realised that he had been forewarned of his apparent failure. But the Lord had also advised that unseen forces were at work with him. ‘Endure and overcome,’ Maelgwn uttered with resolve, as he looked to Seshut, his eyes wide in recognition.

‘I see beyond this battle to the war,’ she told him. ‘In the larger scheme of things, the events you have just suffered through will have long-reaching implications for the better, and will eventually bring about the full realisation of your soul-quest.’

Maelgwn calmed as the Merlin had raised a subject of pressing interest to him. ‘Is Marduk aware of the nature of this quest?’

‘He is,’ she put that fear to rest, ‘and will speak to you about it when next he sees you.’

The next fear that surfaced in Maelgwn was for Tory. ‘Inanna said something about being in Tory’s skin?’ he mumbled the little he recollected of Inanna’s parting words to him.

Seshut nodded. ‘She wants to possess that which you desire, Dragon, so that she may give it to you.’

‘But she left me for dead!’ He failed to follow the logic.

‘Only because one of her seers had predicted you’d escape.’ Seshut saw his total bewilderment. ‘This is the way of most of the remaining Nefilim on this plane of existence. They no longer relate to emotional stimuli at all, for if they did, they would be compelled back towards their Logos and lose their physical existence. So they exploit human suffering in the name of repression, which keeps their soul-minds bonded to these lower planes of existence. But as they close themselves off to the influence of the astral plane of love and emotion, they shall lose their psychic talents. With every atrocity they commit they weaken themselves a little more. Still, I’m afraid Inanna has not finished toying with you yet.’

Maelgwn braced his head with both hands, suddenly thrown into a frightful panic. ‘Tory … I have to warn her!’ He felt the need to rush off to her aid at once, although he was so exhausted he couldn’t for the life of him think how this might best be done.

‘Calm yourself, Dragon. We are mindful of the danger and have taken precautions to protect her.’

‘Protect her from what, Seshut?’ Maelgwn realised they’d skipped over that little detail. ‘What is it Inanna means to do to her?’

‘By the sound of it, she means to possess Tory’s physical body?’

‘Can she do that?’

‘Only if Tory leaves her body vacant and not properly guarded for say, astral projection purposes,’ Seshut assured him. ‘This is something Tory never even thought about prior to the death of her husband in the early part of the twenty-first century. After that she began to entertain notions of seeking you astrally.’

‘What?’ Maelgwn butted in, shocked out of the false sense of security that Seshut’s explanation was lulling him into. ‘Are you saying she is now at risk?’

Seshut refrained from responding straightaway, serving him a look that implied he was being unduly dramatic. ‘I took the liberty of sending her a couple of messages on your behalf, warning her against contacting you in such a fashion.’

‘But Tory would never heed the word of an unfamiliar entity like yourself,’ he stressed.

‘That is why I assumed the guise of you in both instances.’ The Merlin eased Maelgwn’s fear yet again and smiled as Maelgwn breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Then I thank you.’ He returned her smile as he marked just how like Taliesin she was. ‘And you delivered these messages personally?’ Maelgwn asked in a far more cordial tone.

‘No. The first was delivered by your great-grandson, Cadfan, at the funeral of your twentieth century embodiment.’

Maelgwn held his head as Seshut outlined the details of her aid — his life was so completely absurd that even he found it hard to fathom.

‘The second message was delivered by your son, Rhun, whose safe protection Cadfan directed Tory to.’

‘It sounds like you’re doing a mighty fine job of making me look really good down there,’ Maelgwn decided at last, very grateful for all her assistance.

‘It was nothing you wouldn’t have done yourself, were you not otherwise distracted,’ the Merlin granted. ‘Both messages made it very clear that it was not safe to seek you out at this time, astrally or otherwise.’

‘Why not otherwise?’ Maelgwn was curious to know what the danger with physical projection over vast distances in space was. But as some of his pre-programmed data surfaced, he realised what a stupid question it was. ‘Don’t answer that.’ He held up a hand to stop her, as he knew the reply. ‘Curved space.’

‘You can cheat time in an astral body on the physical plane,’ Seshut expanded on the premise. ‘But you cannot cheat —’

‘Time in a physical body. I understand,’ he conceded. ‘Flight time would be nothing, but the length of your stay at a deep-space destination would be highly unpredictable due to all the curvature in space between you and your point of origin. You might return to base after only a few hours to find years had elapsed.’

Seshut gave him a wink. ‘Now, there is one other deception Inanna may spring on you, and that is that she might try and clone your wife’s body. You missed my induction lecture on clones, so allow me to bring you up to speed.’

Maelgwn thought his eyes must have been boggling out of his head as Seshut advised him of how clones might be recognised and utilised. Every time he thought he was aware of all the horrors confronting him, new one popped up to top the last. A silence descended as Maelgwn sorted through his thoughts for outstanding fears and queries. ‘Are you aware of how Laarsa was destroyed?’

Seshut shook her head. ‘I foresaw the event, but not the cause, I’m afraid.’

Maelgwn was going to question her about the possibilities, but as Seshut’s expertise lay within the realms of the spirit, he decided to leave that conversation for Marduk. ‘So, what are my chances of seeing my Lord?’

Seshut stood quietly assessing him for a moment before responding. ‘As the hunt for Gibal is obviously so important to you, I am going to suggest a cleansing tube and a meditation before seeing my Lord. However, when you return from your quest, I’m afraid we are going to have to work through the sad events of your capture and clear that shroud from your subtle body.’

‘I understand.’ Maelgwn thought she was being more than fair. ‘Thank you, Seshut.’

‘No, thank you, Dragon.’ She bowed her head to him. ‘Strange as it may seem to you, you’ve done outstandingly well.’

Maelgwn returned to his quarters on the Aten. He was no longer in the new recruits’ module.

Although Maelgwn’s journey had, to him, only taken weeks to complete, months had passed here on the Aten. Dragon squad now occupied level fifty-four of module seven.

The corridors were deserted as he strolled towards his quarters. Maelgwn figured the rest of the squad were probably resting up before going after Gibal. Strangely enough, as he entered his chamber, Maelgwn really felt like he was home, even though he’d spent less time living on the Aten than he had on the Mazua. Perhaps it was because he could sense that his kindred were close at hand here. This room differed from his temporary quarters in that framed images of the loved ones he’d left behind on Gaia were scattered about the place — some hung on the walls, other were free-standing images placed as decorations on tables and shelves. As he walked around admiring the framed memories, he came across a picture of a beautiful, dark-haired woman that he didn’t recognise — only that she quite reminded him of his son Rhun.

‘Rhiannon,’ he resolved, in an awe-struck but proud manner. But with the surge of pride he felt upon viewing his full-grown daughter, came a terrible feeling of vulnerability. He held the picture of his child to his chest, as his eyes darted over the images of others dear to him. Goddess, protect them. His eyes became fixed on a picture of Tory and he smiled as he recalled the last time they’d made love: before his illness, before his abduction, before Inanna.

When you are again joined with your beloved wife, remember to look deep into her eyes, Dragon, for you might just find me there.

As Inanna’s wraith echoed through his mind, in the image of his wife he could see the evil presence of his persecutor, and unable to stand the sight of her, he turned the image off. Only at that moment did Maelgwn discover the full extent of the psychological damage that had been done to him, and the realisation made him weep.

After dragging his weary form through a cleansing treatment and a meditation, as ordered, Maelgwn’s anxiety had waned a little. Still, his hatred for Inanna and what she’d done to the sweet memory of his wife, was still very much underlying his mood.

He’d sent a communication to Seshut to tell her that he’d done as she’d requested, and was now ready to meet with Marduk. Hence, in a suspended chair, Maelgwn sat staring out at space as he awaited further orders.

I am sorry for your pains, Dragon.

Maelgwn swiveled round to find Marduk sitting forward in the chair opposite him.

The surprising thing was that Maelgwn was no longer in his quarters. He was back in the Lord’s Star Chamber, gazing at the wonders of space reflected on the walls and floor therein.

I knew your mission was going to be tougher than I let on … but it was your destiny, and therefore not for me to question, he explained from behind his mask.

Although the Lord sounded sincere, Maelgwn was hard pressed for forgiveness at present. He forced a laugh and shook his head. ‘And if it were my destiny to be sucked into the oblivion of a black hole, would you send me to my extinction all the same?’ He stood abruptly, and backed away from the Lord a few paces. ‘Because if that is to be the way of this, I’m sorry, but I will not serve a soul I cannot trust.’

The Lord stood, seemingly offended, but Maelgwn couldn’t really tell. Marduk raised his mighty arms, and reaching behind his head, he unfastened the mask he wore and removed it. The light that shone from the God’s eyes was blinding for a moment; he was obviously far more enlightened than any of the other Nefilim that Maelgwn had encountered. But as his eyes adjusted, Maelgwn beheld a man very much like himself — dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. And although his defining facial features were akin to the Nefilim, Maelgwn saw a kindred soul in the Lord.

I swore I would not remove this mask until the day I cleared my name, but I remove it now, so that you may look into my eyes and know I speak the truth. I have already picked my parents via whom I shall be reborn into the ranks of the Chosen Ones, he informed Maelgwn. I am to be a son of yours, Dragon, because of all my children I adore none so well as you and your mate — finer parents I could not want. I tell you this, so that you might understand that to allow any harm to come to you or Lamamu would be completely detrimental to my future happiness. Please believe I am on your side, and if I could have undergone your trials in your stead, I would have. But they were not my lessons to learn.

Although the idea of having more children that he might actually have a chance to partake in the parenting of appealed greatly to Maelgwn, he was still rather bewildered by Marduk’s little insight into the future. ‘Who is Lamamu?’ He queried the only part of the prophecy that was not entirely clear.

That was the name that the ancients gave your female other. It means the divine goddess of love and war.

Maelgwn found this briefly amusing. ‘That she is,’ he smiled, warmed by memories of her playing cupid with the members of his court, and the awesome sight of Tory in combat. But the memory of her being fondled by Shamash shrouded his delight. He knew it hadn’t really been Tory who had raped him, tortured him and left him to die, along with the others, but the images were taunting him just the same.

I think Candace should head the salvage mission for Gibal, Marduk decided, seemingly out of the blue.

The Lord was obviously picking up on Maelgwn’s disturbed frame of mind. ‘No please, let me go,’ he appealed. ‘I assure you, I can place my personal setbacks aside until I return with Gibal. Seshut will back me up on that. For, although Gibal may never trust me again, I want to be there to assure him and update him on the situation when he’s found … better the devil he knows, than a bunch of strangers he doesn’t, I figure.’

Marduk nodded to concede he might be right. I’m sending the rest of Dragon squad with you to assist with the recovery of the cases containing my brother. The containers could have been scattered, and may not even be at the same location. In the event that an extensive scan or search of the area is required, you’d best take a team reconnaissance vessel rather than individual craft. Maelgwn nodded to agree with all of the above, when the Lord added: But do try and bring the recon unit back this time.

Maelgwn gave a firmer nod. ‘We might be able to see our way clear to doing that.’

The area on Lura where Gibal has been deposited is renowned for whirlpool activity, Marduk advised as he returned the mask to his face, and ascended the stairs to take a seat on his throne. There is one such disturbance subsiding at present, so the mission is due to depart at the start of your next shift … by which time we hope conditions will be more favourable.

Maelgwn checked the band of his suit, which indicated that he still had a few hours before blast off. ‘Are you aware of how Laarsa and by now, I expect, the Mazua were destroyed?’

In truth, Dragon, our systems are finding that a baffling question. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the subject. Even though Maelgwn’s thought wave neutraliser had been replaced, Marduk could tell the commander had already drawn a few conclusions of his own.

‘I have no proof,’ Maelgwn stated outright, ‘but I strongly suspect some kind of weapon was involved.’ He dwelt on his theory a second. ‘I know we cannot track Shamash’s vessels, but can we estimate how far behind us they are at present?’

If Mazua’s destruction is any indication, they would only just be entering the wormhole or at the very most the outer reaches of this star system, Marduk advised, foreseeing what Maelgwn was driving at. If there is any fear for the Aten, let me assure you that a simple jump into the future will ensure we avoid detection or destruction. I shall arrange a suitable destination to venture forth to immediately upon your return from Lura.

The Lord’s guarantee sparked Maelgwn’s curiosity. ‘How exactly have you been achieving all the time travel required for the realisation of the Chosen Ones? And, while we are on the subject, where are we placed in time now … according to the understanding of those we left behind on Gaia?’

Perhaps we should discuss this when you return, Dragon, Marduk suggested, as the outcome of your mission will decree how long it will take us to make it to the Gathering, and that’s what you’re really asking, isn’t it?

‘Sorry, my Lord,’ Maelgwn frowned, ‘but I don’t understand the bearing my mission has on our schedule.’

We have been hopping all over the time continuum since your induction into our ranks, Dragon. Much of this was done before you even became conscious that you were with us. Even if I told you our present status in relation to Gaia’s history, our situation will change again before we return there, so you cannot hope to measure the time remaining till the Gathering. The problem is that Shamash’s deep-space crafts will outrun us eventually, so if we don’t want to take a detour via eternity to beat our foe to our destination, then Gibal’s rescue is all important, the Lord advised. For amongst the paraphernalia we pulled from his lab, is a possible shortcut to Gaia.

‘The wormhole stabiliser,’ Maelgwn surmised.

That is correct, Marduk confirmed. Even if it takes Gibal twenty years to get the device functioning, we can still cut ourselves a hole through space and win the race to Gaia.

This may not have been the answer Maelgwn was looking for, but it did give him some means to gauge the distance between Tory and himself. ‘You still haven’t answered my question about how you have been achieving your mobility through time.’

Marduk held up a finger to beg his patience a moment. He passed a hand over the PK terminal on the arm of his crystal throne, and it began to rise out of the floor.

As the stairs and floor retracted towards Maelgwn, he backed up out of the way of the rising crystal that, at five times the size of the throne carved into its pinnacle, was of megalithic proportions. Only the throne that capped the stone was quartz, Maelgwn realised. Below this feature traces of bronze, yellow and deep brown deposits cascaded through the huge crystalline structure. Once the heart of the huge drive system was exposed to him, Maelgwn had his answer. ‘The whole ship is akin to the chariot,’ he uttered, aghast.

Marduk nodded to confirm. Meet Eli, the elestial. Marduk motioned to the giant mineral deposit beneath him. He is from an advanced species of mineral presently thriving on the astral plane of existence. Eli has assumed a physical presence to aid us with the realisation of the Chosen, for his soul too is destined to be born into your ranks.

Maelgwn wasn’t too sure how to respond to Marduk’s claim. Was he joking? ‘Am I to take it, my Lord, that you’re saying this rock is conscious?’

Oh yes. And is a higher consciousness than either of us, he informed. In fact, that is why Eli’s soul has had to wait for the advent of a Chosen race of human beings before incarnating into human form, as his soul has advanced beyond the realms of ordinary human understanding.

‘I see.’ Maelgwn suppressed a smile; it wasn’t that he didn’t believe the Lord, he just found the premise amusing. Still, what he didn’t realise was that the thought wave neutraliser he wore did not shield his thoughts from the elestial crystal, as it was attuned to the level of awareness where Maelgwn’s higher consciousness resided.

On the first planet of the evolution of your Logos, you too were part of mineral consciousness, and through progressive evaluations you have worked your way through the vegetable and animal kingdoms to the human form and consciousness you now entertain.

The tutorial echoed through Maelgwn’s head, although it was not the Lord Marduk who was delivering it. As he looked to Marduk to question this, the Lord confirmed his awe by pointing to the elestial rock formation upon which he sat.

Just because an entity appears docile by your limited understanding, doesn’t mean that is necessarily the case … in fact, more often than not, you shall find yourself gravely mistaken.

‘As I do in this case.’ Maelgwn changed his view, quick-smart. ‘I am sorry to have offended.’ He bowed slightly in apology.

No offence taken. We realise the existence of our consciousness has, up until now, been beyond the scope of your comprehension, the mineral advised to Maelgwn’s great humiliation.

‘Upon your advice I shall endeavour to remain more open-minded in the future.’

A good resolve, it granted. I shall look forward to seeing you there.

As Maelgwn stood there, shell-shocked, the huge megalith sank slowly back into its secluded resting place beneath the floor. ‘Please don’t tell me that that soul will be one of my children as well?’ His son had been enough of a handful to raise, owing to Rhun’s superhuman abilities. To imagine a child with superhuman understanding as well, was really more than Maelgwn could cope with at present.

I’m not too sure, the Lord replied. Shall I ask?

‘No!’ Maelgwn declined, deciding he didn’t really want to know.

Marduk slapped his hands down on both armrests to conclude their meeting. Well, as that seems to be all your questions answered, I really must bring this audience to a close. I have to see to a little surprise I’ve been arranging for you, which I expect will raise your spirits before you depart on your hunt for Gibal.

‘My Lord, ple —’ Before he had the chance to query this, Marduk gave him a wave and Maelgwn found himself back in his own quarters.

Marduk gave a little chuckle now that he was alone, knowing his comment would be vexing the Dragon. However, he knew his father-to-be would not object to the gift he had in mind. Marduk may not have been able to endure Inanna’s torture on the Dragon’s behalf, but he could do something about healing the hurt his sister-in-law had caused his favourite son.

A wave of etheric light washed through the Star Chamber, and Marduk rotated his throne one hundred and eighty degrees to behold the astral form of the Dragon’s chosen other.

As she had just been projected forth from the central regions of early twenty-first century Australia, his granddaughter was looking like a native desert queen. Her etheric form was clothed in loose-fitting attire, which exposed painted designs of red, white, yellow and black on her arms, neck and face. These motifs had been painted on her by the female custodians of Uluru to protect both Tory’s astral and physical bodies during her flight into the otherworldly regions of space. Her long golden hair was windblown and her violet eyes were wide with wonder.

Lamamu. This is an expected surprise.

Marduk was given the perfect opportunity to spring his gift on the unsuspecting commander, as he found Maelgwn killing time, alone, in the suiting station. The Dragon’s first reaction was not as favourable as anticipated, however.

Maelgwn was furious that Tory had disobeyed the warnings Seshut had sent her via Rhun and Cadfan. It wasn’t until Marduk explained that Inanna had been taunting Tory with visions of her husband’s capture that Maelgwn understood why Marduk had risked this meeting. Inanna had only revealed fragments of their parting conversation to his wife, but the tormenting images had driven Tory to defy all warnings for fear of his welfare.

The images just made the not knowing where you were, or how you fared, so much worse, Tory confessed, wary of his mood, and perhaps a little hurt that he’d not been more excited by her visit. But now I have seen all goes well with you, I shall go, if that’s what you wish.

The thoughts he imagined were running through her mind broke Maelgwn’s heart, for he was in truth overjoyed by her presence. ‘Tory,’ he protested, forestalling her retreat. ‘I have willed you to me so often that this situation is probably more my fault than yours.’

It was about this time that Marduk made himself scarce.

‘I do praise the Goddess that you defied me.’ Maelgwn approached Tory’s light-filled form, which was even more lovely than he remembered. ‘There have been moments during our separation when I would have faced the torture of Shamash and Inanna a thousand times over for just an hour of your company.’

I know what you mean, Tory agreed, with a large smile. And I deeply regret that I am not fully equipped to fulfil all your expectations at this time.

As Maelgwn cracked a smile, all his ill-will and worry rushed away. ‘That’s something to look forward to then. And right now, I must confess that you are a sight for sore eyes.’ The warmth and love that his wife exuded was as powerful and as healing as the rays of Apsu. And although she lacked the density to touch him, her hands remained paused close to his face in wanting.

As are you. Tory admired his new look, seemingly delighted by the transformation from pre-medieval King to Star Warrior.

The short time that Maelgwn spent in his wife’s company was an amazing healing experience. For he realised that Tory’s finer qualities couldn’t possibly be duplicated by an entity that lacked her emotional understanding, and in this knowledge his battered emotions found a safe haven.

When Cadwallon and Cadwell arrived in the suiting station, Maelgwn discovered that Tory’s astral venture into space was not entirely on account of her concern for his welfare. She had a few queries to chase up whilst she was here and took a particular interest in Cadwallon. She was asking after his son, Cadwaladr, wanting to know if Taliesin had tutored him as one of the Chosen, as he had with all of the Dragon’s line before him. According to Cadwallon, his son hadn’t really proven to be Chosen material and so had been passed over. Tory would not reveal the reason for her interest in him, but her query got Maelgwn wondering whether Cadwaladr could have been the one Inanna and Shamash were calling their Chosen One? If nothing else, he was certainly a likely candidate. The commander decided to get Cadwallon to do a little past-life regression into the matter as soon as they found themselves at leisure to do so.

It wasn’t long before the rest of his squadron reported to the suiting station, and finding Tory’s etheric form there, they bombarded her with questions about the Chosen Ones in her company on earth. As Maelgwn watched his wife console and amuse his crew with tales of their lovers and friends, the very familiar scene thawed his frosty emotions.

As the bands on their suits turned white to inform one and all it was time to depart, Maelgwn found himself dragging the chain — which seemed rather ironic when he’d previously been so eager to get moving. ‘I wish I could stay,’ he told Tory, as he backed towards the chamber door through which the rest of his squad had already passed. ‘All I’ve wanted since arriving here was to speed up the clock, now I just wish time would stop for a moment.’

The affairs of the universe won’t wait. Tory made light of their parting. But I will, she vowed. And with a smile, a blown kiss and wave, she faded from his presence.

As Maelgwn witnessed her going, he felt time and space distending between them. I love you, Tory Alexander, he called into the widening void.

And I you, Maelgwn Gwynedd, tenfold as much.

He stood alone in the suiting station, with silent tears streaming down his face. A deep breath managed to suppress the highly volatile emotions that were welling in his chest. He had sworn to Marduk that his ailments would not get in the way of this mission, and he fully intended to keep that vow. The reason Marduk had sprung Tory on him before his departure was to remind him of the bigger picture and to reassure him that the promise the future held was still very much intact.

Upon boarding the reconnaissance vessel, Maelgwn was pleasantly surprised to find Zerrah and Uriah awaiting the squadron in the control deck.

‘What do you two think you’re doing here?’ Maelgwn queried, half suspecting what the answer would be.

‘You can’t send an ape to do a dolphin’s job,’ Zerrah informed him with a glint in his eye. ‘Not even one with your unique capabilities.’

‘Standard procedure for a mission such as this,’ Candace expanded on the explanation for the commander. ‘Mission control decided it was best to utilise two Delphinus who were already involved in the case and erase their recall after the rescue is completed.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Zerrah challenged. ‘I’d rather think of this mission as a kind of job interview.’ He smiled at the Dragon broadly.

‘Me too,’ seconded Uriah, with his eyes firmly planted on Rebecca.

Zerrah grabbed hold of his companion. ‘Need I remind you that you are already in trouble?’ He dragged Uriah to a seat at the back of the control deck, out of the way of the rest of the crew as they prepared their vessel for departure.

‘Zerrah’s spirits seem to have lifted somewhat.’ Maelgwn muttered to Candace, figuring that she had something to do with his change of attitude.

Candace gave a shy shrug that confirmed Maelgwn’s hunch. ‘In your absence, many of us began to explore our lives spent among the other human tribes. I discovered my Delphinus incarnation was born and raised right here on the Aten,’ she explained. ‘And is, at present, working in the animal labs. I was not permitted to make contact with her, for obvious reasons. But when I saw Zerrah … the synchronicity seemed uncanny. I figured I’d been made aware so that I could direct him to her.’ She suppressed a sigh of regret as her gaze drifted to Zerrah. ‘It was love at first sight.’ Candace seemed to envy her past incarnation’s new romance.

‘You did the right thing for all involved, Candace,’ Maelgwn told her, wishing he could say the same thing about his own misadventure with his Delphinus incarnation.

‘Hey,’ Candace pepped Maelgwn up with a chug on the shoulder. ‘Some things are meant to happen, whether we like it or not, with or without our involvement … but some good comes from every instance, so there is no wrong and right, no failure or success.’

‘It’s all in your viewpoint,’ Maelgwn posed, although his tone implied he found no comfort in it — the loss of Aquilla and her terminated foetus was still blinding his outlook on the affair.

‘It does make you wonder how Zerrah would have met his true love had his sister’s death not brought us all together.’ Candace raised her brow to bring home her point, as she wandered off to take up her station.

Her perspective eased Maelgwn’s guilt a little and the sound of their vessel powering up brought the smile back to his face.

‘Dragon rescue, ready for launch, Commander,’ advised Robin.

As Maelgwn sat himself down in the captain’s seat and Candace assumed her seat alongside him, he felt a sudden surge of pride and excitement at embarking upon his first assignment with a full squadron. It was comforting to realise that the current plight of the Chosen was not all heartache and torment. ‘Launch when ready.’ He granted leave for take off.

‘Engaging magnetic propulsion system,’ Robin advised.

At the pilot’s mental command, magnetic ringed pulses were shot forth from the nose of the vessel into the launch tunnel. Gradually their craft was drawn from its cradle into the field created by the magnetic rings, and as the vessel’s momentum increased, Dragon rescue were catapulted into open space.

As the visual image of Maelgwn’s PKA recording drifted off into the star spangled universe, an oratory followed.

This was the first of many successful missions that I flew with Dragon squad, in the twenty years that preceded the Gathering on Gaia.

Gibal’s head was recovered from the darkened depths of Lura that day. All the Lord’s mental capabilities and knowledge were contained therein and hence, without further delay or concern for the rest of his missing person, Gibal was plugged into a PKA terminal. With the aid of the automated hands of his airborne tool platforms, he set to work on the wormhole stabiliser that Aquilla had begun.

The topic of my relationship with Aquilla I have to this day only ever discussed with Seshut. Marduk never reprimanded me for the offence — perhaps at the risk of seeming hypocritical he let the indiscretion slide. Or maybe, for some hidden cosmic reason, our brief encounter was meant to be.

Despite her deception, I still remember Aquilla fondly, and how she gave her life so that I might survive. She threw away a promising career to free the man that she loved and, in my opinion, she succeeded.

After the war of the Chosen was won and the peace treaty with the Nefilim was signed, I did not seek revenge on Inanna for the loss of Aquilla and the soul that would have been our child. Their deaths had aided to free the Chosen Ones from the repression of our Nefilim creators, and served to enlighten and inspire my as yet unrealised soul-quest of liberty and justice for all the human tribes.

Maelgwn waited anxiously for Tory to emerge from the trance of the orb; he was positively dying to know her thoughts. Tears were streaming down her face. But did she weep from hurt, sorrow or empathy?

As the thought recorder switched off, Tory set it aside. Her focus shifted to Maelgwn, along with the rest of her form. ‘I am so, so sorry,’ she began, openly sobbing as she climbed onto Maelgwn’s chair with him to give him a hug.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ Maelgwn assured her. ‘It all happened so very long ago, and I am ever so much more wise and contented now.’ He held her tight to quell her emotional outpouring.

The nature of Maelgwn’s soul-quest came as no surprise to Tory; Maelgwn had told her that part of the tale a long time ago, as it was indeed her soul-quest too. The emotional issues of that time, though, which Maelgwn had never really broached with her, moved her to tears. ‘There is something I don’t understand.’ She peeled herself away from Maelgwn and retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket. It was just a minuscule conflict in Maelgwn’s account that didn’t fit with her memory of events. ‘On second thoughts, it’s not even worth mentioning.’ She waved off the opportunity.

‘No, please ask.’ Maelgwn appealed cheerfully, happy to have come through all he had, for it made him all the more appreciative of his present situation. ‘I have waited so long for all this to surface, and now that it has, I want you to know it all.’

‘Alright,’ Tory continued at his request. ‘Three years after my etheric form came to see you on the Aten, you paid me a visit in Central Australia, do you remember that?’ she queried, whereupon Maelgwn pulled her close once more, becoming amorous.

‘That I do. You had just emerged from a bath and although my astral form did not betray my delight, my physical form was aroused for weeks afterwards.’

Tory gave him a friendly shove, as he was getting off the subject. ‘At that meeting I asked you about your search for Gibal and you told me that his head had been proving hard to find … but that was obviously not the case?’

Maelgwn hesitated to explain, fearing making an issue of something that wasn’t an issue any more. ‘Inanna had me spooked pretty badly at that time … I just figured it was safer to keep you in the dark in regard to my hidden agenda.’ He shrugged and smiled. ‘As I said, I am wiser now.’

Tory must have found this answer acceptable as she snuggled for a hug and they remained in their quiet embrace for some time, each lost in their own thoughts.

‘These chronicles really are proving very therapeutic, aren’t they?’ Tory broke the silence.

Maelgwn didn’t even register her words. He was too caught up in his own thoughts. ‘Let’s have a baby,’ he suggested, and inspired by the thought he began kissing Tory’s neck.

‘And end up with Marduk as a son? Or, worse still, have the soul-mind of an elestial rock formation to answer to … no thank you.’ She pried herself from her husband’s clutches.

‘Oh, come on,’ he appealed. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’

Tory served Maelgwn a look of zero amusement, but he rose to come after her all the same.

‘I’m warning you, sweetheart, I’ve been working out.’

‘So have I,’ Maelgwn stated confidently. ‘So what say I wrestle you for it.’

‘No!’ Tory flatly refused, backing away from his advance. ‘Babies are not on my agenda, and that is not open to negotiation.’

‘You cannot fight the will of the universe.’ He appealed, speeding up his chase and catching her up in his arms.

‘Oh, yes I can,’ said Tory softly, putting up no struggle against being drawn into a kiss.

I wasn’t too sure what I was going to say to our good Governor when he arrived to ask my opinion of his thought recording, some of which would be considered as outright seditious by most of the Pantheon of Twelve. The Dragon’s experience had made me see my place in the universe somewhat differently and my shift in perspective was unnerving. I would have never suspected Marduk and Maelgwn of plotting against the Pantheon.

My novice preceded the Governor into my audience chambers to announce Maelgwn’s arrival, and then, as instructed by myself prior to the meeting, the lad took his leave immediately.

‘Well, En Noah, what is the verdict?’ Maelgwn strolled in rubbing his hands vigorously, obviously most eager to hear my view.

He seemed very light-hearted about it all, but underlying this I detected a need to be absolved, or perhaps vindicated, I wasn’t sure which. I released a heavy sigh, resolving to be perfectly honest. ‘When you decide to get into strife, Governor, you really go all out.’

‘With a little help from you, of course.’ Maelgwn awarded me my due as he seated himself.

‘Always,’ I granted, having played an antagonist in this account even more passionately than in the last missing tale I’d been asked to chase up. ‘It appears I have caused you no end of grief and I —’

‘No, Noah,’ Maelgwn interjected politely, ‘you have never caused me grief. Intellectually speaking, you are and always have been my most trusted male colleague within the physical world.’

I was moved to utter speechlessness. Although, thankfully, I refrained from tears, the compliment really was quite overwhelming to me.

‘Well, don’t look so surprised.’ Maelgwn found my reaction amusing. ‘With Taliesin gone, you are the first soul I must call to the cause.’

‘You can’t be serious.’ I was honoured, hence the smile on my face, but deep inside I was petrified. ‘I am not a druid, or a rebel. I am just an historian —’

‘Wrong!’ Maelgwn sat forward in his seat to glare into my soul. ‘You hide behind that scholarly guise, but there is so much more you are capable of if you’d just stop observing your history through the eyes of others and dive right in yourself. The druid, the rebel, and all their accumulated knowledge is right there inside your subconscious … along with a wealth of other knowledge. Why are you so hesitant to go retrieve it?’

‘Because every time I go exploring my past lives I discover the same thing … that I was a total loser!’ I didn’t mean to sound sorry for myself, because at present I wasn’t — I adored the way my life had unfolded. And now the only man I could never deny assistance to was asking me to get involved in a rebellion against the Masters of the Known Universe.

‘Do you think I see myself any differently?’ Maelgwn stood in appeal. ‘The only truly intelligent thing I ever did was wed Tory.’

This made me smile, as I felt the same way about my own marriage.

‘But we can learn so much from our past mistakes and you really owe it to yourself to get aware,’ he suggested before becoming more serious. ‘I will fulfil my quest, not in the near future, but it will happen. Now that you are aware of what will come, how prepared you are to assist us is really up to you.’

‘There is no question of that, ever,’ I blurted out, stepping forward to volunteer my services as if compelled by some higher force. ‘I will do as you suggest and pray I live up to expectation when the time of your quest is upon us.’

Maelgwn came forward to place a hand on my shoulder and instil a bit of courage in me. ‘I have no doubt of that,’ he said, not as if it were expected, but rather as if it had been foreseen. ‘Meanwhile, what do you suggest we do about the chronicle?’ He returned to the seat where he’d left his coat.

‘I suggest we edit it rather heavily and store the omitted data in a safe place until such time as it is appropriate to our cause to release it.’

Maelgwn melted into a smile, obviously approving of my judgement. ‘Fear not, En Noah, I would not lead you astray.’ He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled from it an orb.

‘What is that?’ I asked warily, imagining some other deep dark secret that had been dredged up from the past and recorded for my mortification.

‘Relax.’ Maelgwn was amused by my paranoia. ‘Tory viewed the orb last night and I thought you might be interested in her reaction … I know that you’re romantic like that.’ The Governor shrugged as if he wasn’t and handed the additional information to me.

‘You are very thorough.’ I was thankful for his painstaking attention to this affair, for I would not be forced to go chasing up missing details.

‘I hope you can string together enough uncensored data so that the grand-kin can still have their tale.’ Maelgwn began to wander to the door and I accompanied him.

‘I’ll do my best.’ I wrinkled my brow, daunted by the task. ‘I trust you are returning for our fair city’s fiftieth birthday celebration?’

Maelgwn nodded. ‘Asher and Ragan will no doubt hit me with a full report and all their questions then.’

‘I’ll warrant you are right.’ I didn’t envy him, knowing all too well how inquisitive the pair in question were.

The Governor reached out, gripped my hand and shook it. ‘Blessed be, Noah. Until next we meet, may the will of the Logos continue to flow through you.’

‘And you,’ I replied, thinking his comment rather extraordinary in so far as he said ‘continue to flow’, implying that the Logos was already working through me. As I was anything but one of the spiritual leaders of the community, I hadn’t really thought much about my soul-quest. I had been too busy going about my physical quest to give it much regard.

‘Well, that’s obviously got to change,’ I lectured myself.

My thoughts turned to the outstanding chronicle I had asked Rhun to provide and I was forced to question why I couldn’t recount the tale myself? After all, Selwyn had been bard to the court of Powys during the time of Rhun’s rise to High King and would have taken an active interest in events. Again I felt a strange foreboding about going back to the time in question — if such exploration was part of my soul-quest then why did my spirit seem to dread it so? Maybe with all that had come to light in the past few weeks, my psyche was weary of learning. I would give myself a few days to recuperate and assess the information before contemplating the challenge at hand, for as heartbreaking as the last sixth century regression had been, it had liberated me of much unwanted emotional baggage.

‘I will not live in blissful ignorance any longer,’ I decided. ‘If I have a higher task to perform, then I want to know about it, so I can prepare accordingly.’

All at once, my temperature rose in a sweat and tears flooded my eyes. I felt the warmth of the beating sun inside my person, burning away my fears and filling me with lust for the quest at hand. Was this the Logos letting me know it supported my decision? The sensation was too awe-inspiring and empowering to have been anything else. When the pulsating heat subsided, I was filled to overflowing with an inner sense of peace and purpose. I threw my arms wide and spun round to embrace my feeling of liberty.

‘I am history!’ I shouted out my resolve to the cosmos, as all my reservations had been swept clean away.

PART 3

The Age’s Darkest Tale

Map of Britain 549 AD

Character List

KILA

Author of the Chronicles

Noah Purcell

Noah’s wife

Rebecca

Governor

Maelgwn

Governess

Tory Alexander

Head of Space Exploration

Rhun

Rhun’s son

Asher

Rhiannon’s daughter

Ragan (Rai)

Ragan’s understudy

Salome

GWYNEDD

King of Gwynedd

Rhun

Protector of Dyfed

Prince Bryce

King of Powys

Blain

King of Dumnonia

Cadoc

Ruler of Dalriada

Conell MacErc

King of Gwent

Urien

Rulers of Alban

Talorg & Bridei

King of Clyde

Riderich Hael

King of Reged

Elidyr

Heir of Reged

Llywarch Hen

King of York

Elifler

Ruler of northern Saxons

Eormenric

Ruler of southern Saxons

Cynric

King of Lothian

Caten

King of Bernicians

Morcant Bule

Queen of Gwynedd

Bridgit

Talorg’s Druidess

Kaileah

High Merlin of Briton

Taliesin

Merlin of Powys

Selwyn

Prince of Gwynedd

Cadwell

Bryce’s wife

Aella

Queen of Powys

Javotte

2nd Prince of Powys

Owen

3rd Prince of Powys

Cai

Lord of Caernarvon

Gareth

Gareth’s father

Tiernan

Gareth’s mother

Ione

Rhun’s keeper of records

Gawain

Heir to Dyfed

Vortimor

Vortipor’s champion

Sir Queron

King Urien’s father

Conan

Head maid, Dwyran

Elsie

Lord Bishop of Glamorgan

Samson

King of the Tylwyth Teg

Gwyn ap Nudd

Siren

Amabel

Folk of the Otherworld

Tylwyth Teg

18

Fondest Enemies

With his feet comfortably crossed upon the rim of the control panel, Rhun reclined in the seat behind the surveillance desk. His team had been on a routine scouting mission appraising a virgin planet in the outer reaches of the tri-sun system known only as ‘cluster double one seven’, and Rhun had been monitoring the team’s movements. But with their survey completed, his crew were on their way back to base. Hence Rhun found himself alone and at leisure as he seldom was during these deep space explorations.

It was his turn to babysit, which meant he alone stayed at base to guard their vessel against raiders and pirates. Their deep-space transport, the Naria, was equipped with a wormhole stabiliser for the purpose of travelling the great distances between star systems. Naria literally meant ‘fly far away into space’. Subsequently, it amazed Rhun how far from civilisation some outlaws had managed to stray without access to the same technology. The scum of the allied systems sought refuge in the deep, dark recesses of space and the Chosen had learnt that it paid to take precautions in guarding against scavengers, no matter where one was placed in the cosmos.

Off in the distance, out through the front shield window, the brilliant red, yellow and blue stars that formed the nucleus of this system held Rhun’s attention as his thoughts ventured forth to the other side of the galaxy, to the planet of his birth, Gaia.

His son’s request to know more about Rhun’s rise to High King of Briton had got him thinking about Gwynedd for the first time in a long while. The period in question had not exactly been the high point of Rhun’s life, although it had been the highlight of his military career. Personally, he much preferred to dwell on the misspent days of his youth, running wild with the sons and daughters of the Twelve Masters of the Goddess.

Raised by legendary folk in a world of honour and miracles, Rhun’s teenage years with the overzealous bunch of would-be kings and warriors were amongst the fondest memories he had. Friendship and loyalty had been more sacred than life then. Thoughts and laughter had flowed freely between him and those he’d considered his brothers. The four sons of King Brockwell, Bryce, Blain, Owen and Cai, along with Gawain and Gareth, had been Rhun’s most trusted circle of friends during his early life. The latter two lads were sons of the High King’s officials, who grew up and were educated with Rhun on the Isle of Mon Angelsey. At this time, Gwynedd and all of Briton prospered under the rulership of his father, Maelgwn. Rhun had never seriously conceived of assuming the throne and didn’t expect to this side of his fiftieth birthday, at the very least. His father was wise, and a warrior to be avoided. Maelgwn enjoyed the best of health thanks to a perpetual state of marital bliss. There were no wars to speak of, nor the likelihood of any erupting. The year before Rhun was born, the Goddess and her Masters had pacified the Saxon threat at the battle Arwystli, so the chances of the High King perishing in a war had also seemed highly unlikely. For the would-be kings of Powys, the situation was much the same, as their father, Calin Brockwell, was the ultimate warrior. After years of tutelage under Rhun’s mother, the great Tory Alexander, a three Dan (black belt) in Tae-kwon-do, Brockwell’s fighting skills had surpassed even hers. There wasn’t a soldier alive who didn’t admire King Brockwell and aspire to match his prowess in battle.

Festival time was always greatly anticipated by Rhun in his teenage years and thus when he thought of this time it was always the great gatherings of the year that sprang to mind. The sacred feast days of his people meant that four times a year he and his friends were guaranteed a get-together, and with their parents all otherwise detained, the young nobles got to run riot for a week. So many nights of wonder and discovery flitted through Rhun’s mind, bringing a smile to his face and a warm, glowing feeling to his chest.

‘Brothers forever.’ His mind settled on one night in particular, when he and the lads had sworn this oath in blood.

A laugh escaped Rhun’s lips as he recalled Queen Katren’s hysterical reaction upon discovering Blain, Gawain, Bryce, Gareth, Owen and himself, each with a bloody slice through their right hand. As Bryce had been sixteen and the eldest, he’d copped most of the blame for the bloodbath even though it had been Rhun and Blain’s idea. Owen had only been six at the time, but, adamant that he was brave enough to participate in the ritual, he’d cut his own hand. In retrospect, it had been a stupid thing to do, but their friendship was more important than life — this had been their way of proving that.

‘How blissfully naive were we,’ Rhun mumbled, transfixed by the fleeting recollections of the strife that lay in wait for their coming to power.

Rhun had assumed the throne of Gwynedd aged twenty-one. Blain had been inaugurated and crowned the King of Powys at the same time at only eighteen years of age. For ten years the allied kingdoms were under the guidance of Vortipor, the Protector of Dyfed — Rhun’s father-in-law. Vortipor had been unanimously voted into the position by the heads of the allied kingdoms in the wake of Maelgwn’s illness and subsequent departure to the Otherworld. But when Vortipor was unexpectedly taken from them, the right candidate to fill the position of High King had not been so well defined. Twenty years to the day after taking their blood oath, Gwynedd and Powys were at war.

The control panel alerted Rhun to a docking craft. His team had returned from their last surveillance detail for this tour. Hence, it was time to make their way back to Kila and their home town’s fiftieth anniversary celebrations.

‘I do love a good festival,’ Rhun announced with cheer, as he made a move to check all went well with his people.

Most of the six-man crew were going into stasis for the flight home. They were anxious to get there and this made the time pass instantaneously. Rhun and his eldest son, Cadwell, were the only two occupants still up and about.

‘I though you’d flake, after all that food you consumed,’ Rhun commented as Cadwell entered the flight deck.

‘Nah.’ Cadwell began bounding around practising kicks and strikes. ‘I thought I might do a work-out first.’

Rhun rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t wait for you to get laid … you’re driving me nuts!’

‘This isn’t about sex!’ Cadwell scoffed, continuing to bounce up and down, inhaling deep satisfying breaths. ‘It’s about feeling good about yourself, honouring your body, loving the self —’

‘Well, we all know you’re the undisputed master of that,’ Rhun interjected.

‘Why don’t you join me?’ Cadwell beckoned him to come and fight although Rhun was viewing the instrument panels, not paying Cadwell the slightest attention. ‘I could use a sparring partner.’

Rhun just shook his head, showing nil enthusiasm.

‘Not in the mood to be beat up, hey?’ Cadwell jeered, but when his father had no witty retort for him, he realised something was amiss. ‘Why so gloomy, pops?’

Rhun sat back in his chair and rolled his head around to view Cadwell. ‘Don’t call me that … or daddo, pappy, or any of the other stupid variations that Floyd taught you.’

‘You’re avoiding the issue,’ Cadwell chanted, but realising he was annoying his father, decided to change his tack. ‘No seriously, father,’ he said in a mocking, yet endearing fashion, ‘what’s up?’

Rhun cocked his head, debating whether or not he wished to discuss the matter. ‘Asher noticed that Noah’s chronicles are missing the account of my rise to High King of Briton.’

‘O-oh …’ Cadwell struggled to suppress his smile so he could appear to sympathise with his father’s predicament.

‘There is nothing funny about this!’ Rhun stood, aggravated, feeling he should have known better than to confide in Cadwell, to whom everything was a joke.

‘I’m sorry … but you’re always encouraging everyone else to confront and release past fears. The way you have been avoiding the issue of Asher makes you the biggest hypocrite I know.’

‘I’m not avoiding the issue!’ Rhun defended. ‘I just don’t want the past interfering with our present relationship.’

Cadwell really felt the urge to laugh at this point. ‘It already does interfere with your present relationship! Isn’t Asher why you chose a vocation in deep-space exploration, so that the issue wasn’t staring you in the face every day?’

Rhun was affronted by his son’s accusation and his first reaction was to respond with a flat denial; yet, another moment’s thought changed his resolve. ‘I truly hope not.’

His father appeared so troubled that Cadwell thought he’d best try to be a little subtler. ‘Asher’s not a boy any more … he’s noticed that the older he gets, the less he sees of you. He wants to know why. He needs to know what you are feeling. He will find out sooner or later — better that the tale comes from you as there was no one more intimately involved.’

Rhun was deeply bewildered now. He hated to think that Cadwell could tell him anything about spiritual maturity. What’s more, he really didn’t want to go back there, not even in his mind. The position of High King had caused Rhun so much grief that he’d never taken any joy in holding the high office, and yet he’d been as dedicated to his duty as his two predecessors. Rhun closed his eyes, daring to allow his thoughts to drift back to his adult life in the Dark Ages — his dread and loathing of that era hadn’t waned in intensity for all the time and distance he’d put between that place and this.

‘I can help you,’ Cadwell suggested, watching the emotional conflict play across his father’s face. ‘I was there, after all.’

As Rhun was startled back to the present, his eyes opened and he smiled, happy to be there. ‘You weren’t more than ten … you don’t know the half of what went down, Cadwell.’

‘But I’d like to,’ he encouraged. ‘I’d like to know things like how much you remember of your elemental initiation with Gwyn ap Nudd?’

Rhun was shocked. ‘How did you know about that?’

Cadwell gave him a presumptuous look. ‘You’re not the only one who has been High King of Briton you know … I went through the Night Hunter’s initiation twice. Once in my lifetime as Vortipor and then again when I was elected High King.’

‘That makes sense, now that I think about it.’ Rhun arched an eyebrow in curiosity. ‘How did you feel about actually knowing one of your own incarnations?’

Cadwell shrugged. ‘At the time, I didn’t know I did. Taliesin only enlightened me to the fact many years after Vortipor’s death.’

Rhun raised his eyebrows, thinking this typical of the Merlin’s way.

‘And you’re avoiding the issue again.’ Cadwell leapt back to the subject. ‘Are you going to do this or not? It’s not like we don’t have the time now, is it? I’ll help you through it.’ Cadwell stood to guide his father to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area.

Rhun refused to be led, however. Having Cadwell to comfort him through the most horrendous time of his life didn’t seem the perfect arrangement. ‘Surely you’re not serious.’

‘Yes, I am!’ Cadwell emphasised, managing not to smile this time. ‘We can start with this moment just passed, which could be a good background scene to lead into —’

‘Hold on!’ Rhun pulled away. ‘You’re not going to start directing my thoughts. This is my story.’

‘I respect that totally.’ Cadwell stepped away, raising his hands in truce. ‘If you don’t want my help —’

‘I think I can handle it,’ Rhun assured him, retrieving the orb and making for the lounge with it.

‘Well, I’ll be here if you need me.’ Cadwell began practising his fighting skills once again. ‘You might be amazed at the things I remember …’ he called out a final offer.

‘Cadwallon is the one I need help from,’ Rhun called back. ‘See if you can get a visual link-up happening if you want to do something useful.’

‘But Cadwallon wasn’t there!’ Cadwell protested, just for the hell of it.

‘He was, in a past life,’ Rhun corrected, ‘so just do as I ask, will you?’

Cadwell gave a chuckle, tickled pink that he’d talked his father into finally purging himself of the period in question. ‘Whatever you say, you’re the captain.’

19

Diversions

The day after my resolve to explore the period of the Dark Age missing from my chronicles, I was cornered by a flock of my students, led by Ragan.

They had been given the go-ahead by the Chailida anniversary celebrations committee to write, direct and produce a play re-enacting the victory of the Chosen at the Gathering of Kings, because it was this event that had secured us all this place in paradise. It was to be performed in the evening, on the final day of the festival marking fifty years since the Chosen first set foot on Kila.

‘But the committee will only include our play in the program of acts to be performed for the Governor and Governess if you oversee the production, En Noah. Will you help us?’

As Ragan managed to put me on the spot in front of forty or so of my students, I was hardly going to say no. Not that I would have refused their request in any case; it was just Ragan’s approach that bothered me. I had thought of taking her aside at the time to discuss my unease at her effrontery, but I assured myself that she was just a young girl excited by her project and so gave her the benefit of the doubt. Still, the line between innocent enthusiasm and premeditated manipulation ran very thin with this girl, for she certainly had an uncanny knack of getting her own way.

Noting this, I felt Ragan’s little project — which she planned to co-write, co-produce, co-direct and star in — would prove very enlightening in regard to the shadow side of her nature.

So, instead of pursuing my soul-quest as I’d hoped, my time was suddenly filled with scriptwriting, casting, costuming, set building and mediating.

The biggest disputes came with the casting. I allowed Ragan a fair say in this, as she had written the script from my chronicles — virtually on her own — and had done a marvellous job if it. As her tutor, I must say she did me proud. Naturally, Ragan had cast herself as Tory, and one of the older and bigger students as Maelgwn.

‘But why can’t I play Maelgwn?’ Asher had protested stubbornly.

Ragan smiled as if oblivious to the fact that he only wanted to play that character so he could play the hero to her heroine. ‘I assumed you would want to play your father.’ Ragan handed Asher his script. ‘Am I right?’

Asher looked to the script in his hands, perplexed. If he said no then he dishonoured his father, if he said yes then he would not be playing opposite Ragan, and that Neanderthal she had cast would get to kiss her every day at rehearsal instead of he. ‘You’re not playing your mother’s role,’ Asher pointed out, to see what tack Rai used to get out of the same situation.

Ragan was not worried, having ready her retort. ‘I’d love to play a smaller role, as I have so much to do! But, who would you suggest could do justice to grandmother’s role in my stead?’

Again Asher was perplexed — by his reckoning Ragan was the best at everything, so there wasn’t anyone who could match her talent. ‘I could play Maelgwn with more conviction than you have ever dreamt of!’ Asher raised his voice to Ragan for the first time ever and, in so doing, seized the attention of everyone in the auditorium.

My heart broke as the girl began to giggle. ‘Be serious, Asher.’ She stepped back to look the young, medium-sized lad up and down. ‘Zecharia appears much more the part.’

‘Appearance has very little to do with character acting,’ I pointed out, to Asher’s great relief. ‘If there is some dispute, then let us audition the actors and then judge who best suits the role.’

‘An excellent suggestion, En Noah,’ Asher declared, glaring at Ragan in challenge.

‘Alright.’ Ragan inhaled deeply to swallow her pride and let me know that she considered this an unnecessary delay in the proceedings. ‘Let’s audition then.’ She turned from Asher, disinterested in his stand; he was interfering with her schedule and that was not amusing. ‘Zecharia, you first.’ She called the huge, strapping lad, who did look the part, up onto the stage with her.

As one would expect, Ragan gave her candidate ample support when reading her lines and acting her part, and although a little flat from reading the role cold, it was clear that Zecharia would make a fine Maelgwn. When it came to Asher’s turn, however, Ragan’s reading was flat and despondent. Still, the lad responded with enthusiasm and knowing my texts backward, as Ragan did, he tossed the script away and began to live the role. As Ragan was not to be upstaged by anyone, especially not Asher, she discarded the script also and threw herself into her character.

The match of wits and zeal was on. Ragan and Asher delivered their lines with gusto, each waiting for the other to slip up, which did not happen. At the end of their little scene, the spell they had cast on their breathless audience lifted and the applause seemed to indicate that we had found our two leading actors.

Despite the outstanding performance, Ragan was seething in the wake of her defeat. And as Asher approached to congratulate her, she exited the stage without comment.

Asher was crushed when he realised that instead of impressing Ragan as he’d hoped, she was more infuriated than ever.

As this seemed a good time, I called a break, whereupon the rest of the cast and crew quickly dispersed. As Asher made his way down from the stage, many of the students congratulated him on his performance — even Zecharia graciously conceded defeat.

‘Thank you for the support, En Noah.’ Asher finally made his way over to me, although his eyes were focused on stage right where Ragan could be heard thumping about, venting her annoyance by babbling to herself. ‘Still, I might have done better to accept the role given me.’

‘Fortune favours the brave,’ I told him, which served to bring a smile to his face. ‘You were magnificent up there. I feel our Governor will be greatly moved by your performance … I was.’

The lad’s face filled with utter delight. ‘I am greatly moved that you would say so, En Noah … that’s very encouraging, thank you.’

‘The truth doesn’t always have to hurt.’ I slapped his shoulder and sent him off to lunch. The other students had already departed.

Once the auditorium was empty, I climbed the stairs onto the stage. ‘Ragan.’ I called her out of the wings. She’d gone quiet and was hiding in the shadows.

The girl trudged out onto the stage as if knowing the extent of the forthcoming reprimand. ‘I realise I didn’t handle that very well,’ she began, reciting her version to me. ‘I know this is a team effort and that I shouldn’t repress anybody’s input or aspirations. I don’t know what came over me, En Noah, but I apologise most sincerely for my behaviour.’

‘I accept your apology, Ragan,’ I told her and she appeared most relieved to hear me say so. ‘And if you use those exact words, I feel sure that Asher will graciously accept your apology also.’

Ragan became notably tenser as she turned to walk away. ‘I will do as you will, En Noah.’

This was not the reaction I had been hoping for. ‘You recited the wisdom of Tory Alexander very well today, Ragan … but the words mean nothing if you don’t comprehend them.’

The rebuke shocked the girl back into facing me. ‘I do comprehend grandmother’s wisdom and I live by it,’ she defended herself, proudly.

‘Do you really?’ I persisted. ‘Lead by example … the example you set today?’ I shook my head in the negative. ‘The power of attitude?’ There were at least two of Tory’s philosophies that had slipped Ragan’s mind this day. ‘Or how about … if you haven’t got the courage to stand up and be a king, then never a king were you and never a king will you be. Your best friend made that stand today and you would despise him for it?’ The look on Ragan’s face told me I had made my point, but I drove it home just in case. ‘When this production is over and your moment in the limelight has passed, who will you celebrate your achievement with, Ragan?’

As tears had begun to well in her eyes, she gave a slight nod to indicate her understanding.

I had obviously said more than enough on the matter, and so, with an encouraging smile, I took my leave.

‘En Noah,’ Rai called after me, with a sniffle.

I paused and turned back to hear her woes.

‘I hope this incident will not damage your opinion of me too much … I respect you more than any of my tutors and I want you to know that I shall do better.’

‘You’re doing a marvellous job, Rai,’ I responded light-heartedly. ‘You’re young, that’s all … you haven’t yet learnt the dangers of allowing your personal affairs to interfere with your professional commitments.’

Ragan frowned, seemingly confused by my reply. ‘You think I was trying to make Asher jealous?’ she scoffed and laughed at once.

This had not been my thought, but Ragan’s accusation seemed to betray her true feelings for the lad. ‘Taking your friendship for granted was more what I meant, but each to his own,’ I allowed.

Upon realising she had betrayed herself, Ragan folded her arms, frustrated.

Young love, I thought to myself as I left her to brood. Who can figure it?

To me, the production that was eating up all my free time seemed trivial in comparison to the work I should have been doing. But to the students involved in the project it was an invaluable bonding experience and a chance to explore the past and live the lives of the legends that they had so long admired.

My personal spiritual exploration flew straight out the window when every evening I arrived home completely exhausted from teaching classes through the day and working on the production in the early evenings. My weekends were also sacrificed and only when the play was ready to perform did I find any peace whatsoever. Still, I was not on my own in that regard; just about everyone in the city had been working double time leading up to the festival.

It was a bright sunny morning that marked the beginning of the week-long celebration and holiday period in Chailida. From now until the big day, arts, crafts, tournaments, healing, feasting, family and friends would rule in our fair city. All of the Chosen Ones would return home before the week was out to commemorate our prosperous existence with kin and kindred souls.

Myself, I greatly looked forward to seeing my wife and sharing this well-earned rest from all duties. I expected her return at any time now, but Rebecca liked keeping the exact time of our reunion as a pleasant surprise; I liked this arrangement also.

I had actually spent the night at our private abode. This was a lovely sunny apartment located on the circular central island of Chailida. Our balcony overlooked the canal that separated the government island from the first island ring where the Purcell Institute and all the establishments for learning were located. Rebecca and I had been granted residency on the central island, as I was the historical advisor to the Governor. More often than not, when Rebecca was away, I slept in my chambers at the campus. Waking up in my marital bed this morning, I truly knew I was on vacation.

As this day represented my first leisure time in over a month, I had vowed to spend it taking my long awaited journey into the past. A fruit breakfast in the sun put me in a suitably calm frame of mind from which to embark upon my quest of discovery.

‘Right.’ I slapped my hands together in an attempt to raise my weary carcass from the clutches of my extremely comfortable outdoor setting.

A glorious laidback mood had descended upon the city. Many were still lazing about on their balconies in the late morning, and those who had managed to make it out and about strolled at a far more leisurely pace than usual. There did appear to be a fair amount of activity out on the fourth island ring, where the marketplace, harbour and docks were located. The faint sound of music wafted forth on the warm summer breeze and the tune seemed to capture the relaxed mood of the moment. In fact it was such a lovely day here on Kila that it seemed a crying shame to waste it in a meditation chamber, reliving a life in the Dark Ages of dismal old Briton.

Your devotion to duty is overwhelming, I lectured myself sarcastically. As difficult as it was to drag myself out of the sun and into the shade and quiet of indoors, I made for our meditation chamber with an orb in hand.

It took some time for me to settle into a deep meditative state, but when I had, the past-life regression function of the chamber activated automatically. This program guided my mind via subliminal suggestion, back to the time I desired to relive — I had nominated the day Rhun had been crowned High King of the Britons.

Evidence of festive merriment bombarded my senses. The smell of a great feast filled my nostrils, as the riotous chatter and laughter of the gathering around me increased from a murmur to a roar. The taste of spicy mead hung on my taste buds and the heart in my chest felt light and aflutter. The darkness behind my eyes rushed away and I joined Selwyn as he raised a goblet to toast the new High King of the allied kingdoms.

‘So be it!’ Selwyn responded in accord with all those surrounding him and drank down a good portion of the mead in the goblet he held.

‘I have never known thee to have such a thirst, merlin,’ Cai, the youngest Prince of Powys, commented in an aside to his tutor.

‘Drink inspires bravery, so they tell me … I could do with a little courage at present.’ Selwyn did not look to his novice; his eyes were fixed on Kaileah, the Druidess of the Pictish warlord, Talorg. The Druidess was across the room, eyeing him with a solemn look of interest on her face.

‘Maybe she fancies thee,’ Cai jeered his mentor, for the woman in question was greatly feared, and something of a mystery.

‘I hardly think so.’ Selwyn emphasised his conclusion, having had some dealings with the woman in question. Kaileah was a good ten years younger than himself and seemed to have an agenda that was not of this world. Although tiny in stature, the holy woman projected such a dark and ominous presence that everyone bar her Lord remained wary of her, and Talorg liked it that way. Even in the midst of all this revelry, she seemed completely removed from it.

A cloak of raven feathers fell from her shoulders to the floor. The glossy blue-black colour of the unique garment intensified the depth in her ebony eyes. Her hair, darker still, fell in a multitude of black braids, which were bound in a ponytail that fell past her knees. The holy woman’s lips were painted black as night, adding to her ominous appearance. But her defining feature was the tattoo over her third eye. This depicted an eye, its pupil a perfect black orb with a white crescent moon as its iris.

‘Well, thee could do the polite thing and go and inquire after her curiosity,’ Cai suggested.

‘I suspect her restraint doth not stem from formality.’ Selwyn poured himself another drink. ‘If she wishes to speak with me, she shall seek me out.’

‘Seek thee she dost.’ Cai alerted Selwyn to the raven-feathered woman’s approach.

As the Druidess neared the Merlin and his novice, she bowed her head slightly to Selwyn in acknowledgment and continued on past. ‘In a moment, druid, come and find me,’ she whispered, so discretely that Selwyn wondered if he’d imagined her instruction. When she had gone, he looked to Cai to confirm his perception. ‘Do my ears deceive me?’

Cai shook his head, unable to smother his astonished grin.

‘Curious,’ was all the Merlin could say, perplexed by her approach. Why was a secret meeting required? Cai’s overactive imagination was way off the mark in Selwyn’s opinion and therefore the Magi’s precautions could only mean one thing — that there was trouble afoot.

Selwyn bided his time before exiting the banquet hall at Castell Dwyran, Dyfed’s capital city, where the crowning of the High King had taken place. He observed the main table where the leaders of the allied kingdoms were seated, in an attempt to assess any dis-ease around those gathered.

The main feasting table had increased in size over the past ten years to accommodate all the new ruling dynasties that had joined the alliance. To prevent overcrowding or offence at these large gatherings of leaders, the old rectangular table had been replaced by a large round one, with room to spare for newcomers. The new allied kingdoms had emerged from the territory to the north of Gwynedd that had once been known as Cumbria. This area had been only sparsely populated since Roman withdrawal, but with unoccupied land being a precious commodity in the known world at this time, the territory was slowly but surely being claimed. The native Britons did not number enough as a race to occupy and hold their entire island. Therefore, forming trade relations with emerging Kingdoms was the best option the allies had for maintaining the lands they had secured.

These new landowners all claimed native descent, and were distant relatives of the royal lines of Powys, Gwent and Gwynedd; like King Elidyr of Reged, the kingdom directly to the north of Gwynedd, whose forefathers claimed to have descended from Cunedda the Great.

This legendary warlord had migrated from the Firth of Forth in Alban and, along with his nine sons, Cunedda had pacified and settled much of the western coast of the isle of Briton in the wake of Roman withdrawal.

When Elidyr had joined the alliance, two of his long-time allies, Elifler, King of York, and Riderch, King of Clyde, had come to the party with him. With their combined territories, the largest portion of the Isle of Briton ever to be brought under the control of the alliance was realised. This meant greater trade, protection and peace of mind for all.

Not that there weren’t battles being fought. Large numbers of immigrants were arriving on the eastern and southern coasts of the isle to escape the strife and overcrowding on the continent. Up until recently the immigrants had not had the numbers to be of any threat to the allied territories and so had lived and thrived in peace. But now, as their towns became crowded and room for more farming was needed to feed their refugee kinsmen, these new settlers had begun to turn warlike. Eormenric, King of the northern Saxons, and Prince Cadoc, son-in-law of Catulus of Dumnonia, had been fighting back King Cynric of Winchester from their borders for years now. A peaceful resolution to the conflict had proven impossible. Cynric was of the mind to expand his Kingdom across the lower island, and having plenty of reinforcements back home on the continent to draw upon, the Saxon warlord was determined to see his vision realised.

But war was not the order of this day. The new High King was chatting merrily with Prince Bryce of Powys, who’d been appointed guardian of Dyfed in the wake of the Protector’s death. Vortimor, Vortipor’s son via his second marriage, was the true heir apparent, but as he was only six years old, it had been his father’s dying wish that Prince Bryce become guardian of his son and his Kingdom.

In vast contrast to the general mood of the celebration, Prince Bryce’s younger brother, Blain, King of Powys, was appearing rather solemn. He’d spent his life in the shadow of Rhun’s achievements, and now his childhood friend and rival had finally succeeded to the rank of High King. Inwardly, Blain must have envied Rhun more than ever before, but by all appearances, he had accepted the decision of the allied council graciously.

Aurelius Urien of Gwent had forged a firm friendship with his neighboring ruler over the years, and was attempting to raise Blain’s spirits in his own light-hearted and endearing fashion. In Selwyn’s opinion, if the young King of Gwent had been a little older, Urien may well have been High King of Briton at present and would surely be at some future time. He was well liked by everyone within the alliance and his people adored him above all his predecessors. Born a king, Urien had begun to assume the responsibilities of leadership at the age of ten under the guidance of Samson, the Lord Bishop of Glamorgan, and Taliesin, High Merlin of Briton. Schools and places of worship for both the old and new faiths of the people of Gwent had been established within the kingdom. With these reforms encouraging a mutual tolerance for the beliefs of all, the civil unrest that had plagued Gwent since Roman times was quelled.

Conell of Dalriada, son of Fergus, was attempting to brush off a serious conversation with Talorg, who was seated alongside him. Whatever grievance the Pictish warlord had, he did not appear willing to drop the issue.

Which got Selwyn to wondering if Talorg’s woes might have something to do with his Druidess’s strange request for an audience?

Selwyn exited the Great Hall and a thought found him walking beside the Druidess, Kaileah. She had made her way around to the rear of the outer bailey grounds well away from the commoners’ merrymaking, to a quiet and shadowed place.

The Druidess seemed impressed as Selwyn appeared alongside her. ‘I envy this talent, druid.’ She cast an eye about to check for possible voyeurs. ‘And wonder if we might make greater use of it?’

‘My skills art at thy disposal.’ Selwyn couldn’t deny feeling rather gallant as he held out his hands to the mysterious woman. ‘Name thy destination.’

Kaileah did not hesitate to take hold of his hands. ‘Take me to a sacred crossing,’ she bid him.

Between Bangor and Degannwy, a circle of stones marked one such sacred crossing. Selwyn was familiar with the place and willed them to the location on the edge of the moors, south of Penmaenmawr.

The raven woman’s eyes parted wide in awe, as the blue-white light of the ethers blurred the night shadows with a celestial illumination.

The etheric blanket of light dispersed into the darkness, leaving the two holy people standing out on the open moonlit moor as a wild, chilly wind whipped across the open landscape.

Kaileah let go of Selwyn’s hands, seeming perplexed. ‘We came forth through Annwn?’

‘That we did,’ Selwyn confirmed.

‘Then why can thee not reside there?’ Kaileah questioned to satisfy her curiosity.

Selwyn frowned. What information had the Druidess obtained about him to prompt such a query? And how, or from whom, had she been enlightened? ‘I offended Gwyn ap Nudd once and although he still grants me passage through Annwn, I am only permitted to disembark in his realms at the Night Hunter’s express invitation.’

‘That explains it.’ She was gratified by his answer and the smile she gave herself seemed to indicate that her curiosity stemmed from a longer-standing mystery than just her recent observation.

‘I am afraid I do not follow thee?’ Selwyn, feeling a little vulnerable, urged her to state her reasons for this meeting.

‘The Night Hunter wishes an audience with thee,’ the Druidess explained, pulling from the folds of her cloak a tiny pot with a stopper in the top. ‘Drink this,’ she instructed, whereupon Selwyn backed up a few paces.

‘No offence to thee, but I am not the Night Hunter’s favourite person,’ he explained, reluctant to comply. ‘How do I know that dost not contain poison?’

Kaileah appeared perturbed by the notion, but in order to fulfil her duty to her Lord, she lifted the little pot and poured the contents into her own mouth.

As she moved toward Selwyn, he was transfixed by the expectation of what the Druidess meant to do next. Close now, Kaileah reached both her hands up behind Selwyn’s head and, gripping hold, she drew his lips to her own. The sweet herbal brew flowed forth into Selwyn’s mouth — although he barely noticed, lost in the kiss of the transfer. His body began to tingle all over, his head felt light and even a little dizzy.

Druid?

Somewhere in the far off distance, beyond the sound of his heart pounding ten-to-the-dozen in his chest, Selwyn could vaguely make out someone calling.

Druid!

The call for attention was much louder this time, and Selwyn recognised the voice with a shudder.

The Merlin opened his eyes to find Kaileah and the darkness had departed. The stone circle was lit by the radiant life force in the landscape of Annwn, and Gwyn ap Nudd stood opposite Selwyn.

Sorry to distract thee from indulging my disciple, druid … the Night Hunter placed his hands on his hips to lecture. It seems every time we meet thou art accosting one of my women.

‘Perhaps if my Lord would stop directing his womenfolk to seek me out, this would not be the case.’ Selwyn brushed off the disappointment of his change in circumstance.

A physical affinity with a human of the opposite gender was an unprecedented incident in the Merlin’s forty-eight years of life. The Druidess, Kaileah, had been proving a distraction to him of late; that, he couldn’t deny. Selwyn felt it a great shame that her kiss had not come from the heart.

‘Thy disciple, Kaileah, said thee wished an audience, and I feel sure that there was a good reason,’ he prompted, in a not so friendly tone of voice.

A conspiracy of silence spreads itself through the courtroom of my newly appointed High King. Gwyn captured his guest’s full attention with the statement. Good enough?

‘This very night!’ Selwyn exclaimed in disbelief — everyone at the celebration had seemed so joyous, except … ‘Talorg.’ Selwyn took a wild guess at the identity of the instigator.

Even drunk, thou art still observant, merlin. Gwyn smiled his devilish smile. There exists another claimant to the Pictish throne, Bridei, who hast now come of age and will challenge Talorg’s leadership.

‘But these art civil matters of Alban and no concern of —’

Do hush, merlin, and listen. Maelgwn Gwynedd had a Pictish grandmother who came to settle in Gwynedd with her husband, Einion Yrth, son of Cunedda. Her sister stayed in Alban to beget the sons of their royal line, as ascendancy to the crown passes through the female line of the Pictish and not the male line as with the Britons.

‘Art thou saying that this … Bridei, be kindred to my Kings?’ Selwyn jumped to the conclusion.

That I am … but to my High King, he means so much more than this. Gwyn moved closer to the Druid to speak more intimately and, so as not to tower over his guest, the Night Hunter crossed his legs and seated himself on the ground. Selwyn sat also. It is imperative that my appointed one meets with Bridei before Talorg persuades the council to support him in his battle against the rightful heir.

‘But the High King will always seek a peaceful resolution before declaring war —’

Not if most of his allies support Talorg. And they will, to keep Rhun and Bridei from ever meeting. Talorg knows that the pair will form a very powerful bond should either become aware of the other’s existence.

‘How doth he know? It hast been foreseen?’ Selwyn had to assume.

No, not foreseen, just seen. Gwyn made a circle with his hand, which produced a large bubble that came to float before the Merlin’s eyes.

Inside the sphere, Selwyn saw Rhun painted up like a Pictish warrior. ‘This must be my High King in the future,’ Selwyn deduced, puzzled to note that Rhun appeared a younger man in the image.

The Night Hunter raised his brow, knowing the news would come as a shock. It be Bridei, at present.

‘But they could be twins!’ Selwyn’s voice went hoarse with shock, as he gazed at the image of the Pictish Warlord.

They are one, Gwyn ap Nudd assured the Merlin.

As I began to emerge from the regression and my mind became conscious of where I was and what was occurring, my relaxed state of wonder and intrigue turned to frustration. Who had dared to disturb my research?

‘My greatest apologies, En Noah, but I couldn’t wait a moment longer.’

Before I could pry my heavy eyelids apart, the whispered explanation was followed by a deep and meaningful kiss.

There was no need to open my eyes to confirm that Rebecca was back.

The sweet scent of wildflower essences, that accompanied her everywhere, alerted my affection-starved emotions to the fact that the drought was over. ‘Goddess, I hope that’s you, Becky,’ I mumbled, my eyes lulled closed in happy delirium. She straddled her legs to seat herself in my lap, whereupon my fingers encountered her naked body and my eyes parted wide.

‘There, now they’re open.’ Rebecca smiled back at me, mischievously.

‘And what a splendid vision thou art,’ said I.

My lover smiled, knowing at once where I’d been. ‘Thou hast been exploring ancient Gwynedd, I presume.’ Rebecca played along. ‘Did thee seek my company there?’

I nodded surely in response. ‘You led me to a ring of stones where you seduced me into a meeting with Gwyn ap Nudd,’ I advised and her smile broadened.

‘And when you returned to me at the stones, what of then?’ A siren mood came over my wife as she began slowly stripping the clothes from my body, kissing my skin as she exposed it.

As pleasing as the seduction was, Rebecca’s comment had me a bit distracted. ‘I didn’t make it that far … I was interrupted,’ I said with a note of accusation.

‘Pity,’ she mumbled between kisses, whereupon I couldn’t keep the cocky smile from my face.

‘You don’t mean to tell me that Kaileah seduced Selwyn at the stones that night?’ I couldn’t accept the possibility, not from what I’d witnessed of the mysterious holy woman — Selwyn himself had thought her completely indifferent to him in an emotional sense.

‘One of our more erotic past-life encounters.’ Rebecca lay herself down on the padded floor of our meditation chamber, urging me down beside her. ‘Kaileah fell in love with Selwyn from the second she laid eyes on him,’ she informed me, as our bodies melded into a warm and comfortable union.

‘Is that a fact?’ I savoured her familiar contours and embrace, reeling from the wonderful sensation of skin on skin.

Rebecca urged me back a little, so as to look me in the eyes. ‘That has always been the way of it, Noah.’

The sincerity in her eyes unexpectedly brought a lump to my throat, for I was in total empathy. Before I could even think of a heartfelt response, Rebecca had began to recite.

‘Touch that hidden place in me,
and ignite the cosmic fire.

The will of the divine revealed,
amid the rush of my desire.’

Her beautiful verse left me breathless and speechless, and I wondered if the words had been impromptu.

Rebecca shrugged in answer to my unspoken query. ‘It worked for Kaileah.’ She pulled herself up close to me to kiss away my serious expression.

For a man of learning, I had never been very eloquent when it came to verbally expressing my love for Rebecca. This had never really bothered my wife as, through touch, we were physically linked and she knew how I felt well enough. But my apparent reluctance, or perhaps shyness, in expressing sentiment, did bother me. Why did I have this overwhelming urge to refrain from allowing full rein to my true feelings? ‘My soul rejoices in your presence, my love —’ I began, awkwardly.

Rebecca kissed my mouth to silence me. ‘It was not my intent to put you on the spot.’ She pressed her lips into my neck, then my chest, my stomach, my navel, and before I knew it, I was pleasantly diverted from my quest once again.

20

Choice of Kings

The remains of the day and that night I spent in the welcome company of my wife. I had planned to resume my investigation into the affairs of sixth century Gwynedd the next morning, but then Rebecca dropped her bombshell.

‘I can only stay one more day.’ She stalled my withdrawal from breakfast on the balcony.

‘But I thought we’d have this week, at least!’ I protested. ‘And you’ll miss the pageant.’ I collapsed back into my seat, disappointed.

‘Word has spread about the celebrations here and the poachers are going to have a field day. They know KEPA will be short-staffed for the duration of the festivities. Now I can’t very well ask my people to work shifts through their vacation time, if I’m not prepared to do the same myself,’ she appealed. ‘As soon as the festival is over, I’ll take a month off … scouts’ honour!’ She held her left palm up, her right hand over her heart.

I folded with a sigh, having no desire to waste what little time we did have together arguing. ‘Fair enough.’

Her smile warmed with my resolve. ‘You can record the play for me, and we’ll watch it together when I get back.’

‘That could be fun too.’ I suppressed my disappointment and forced a smile.

The front door chime sounded to let us know we had company.

‘Are you expecting anyone?’ Rebecca queried, having not told a soul she was back in town.

‘It could be one of the students.’ I went to see.

I was surprised, to say the least, to find Rhun standing in the hallway. As he was still attired space fashion, I assumed he’d just returned from his tour of duty. ‘Is this a bad time?’ he queried politely, obviously put off by my astonished expression.

‘Heavens no.’ I shook his hand as I led him inside. ‘I’ve just been doing some past-life regression into your reign as High King —’

‘No need for us both to suffer.’ Rhun gave me the orb.

The way he said this made me remember that there had been a couple of points of interest that had come to my attention during my short stint back to the past. The first was that King Blain of Powys bore a striking resemblance to Rhun’s son, Asher. I was guessing a past-life incarnation, which could explain why Rhun might have a problem with recording what had gone down between them. Blain’s queen, Javotte, bore the same kind of uncanny likeness to Ragan. That I served these two as Merlin of Powys for a great many years seemed to explain why I always felt so disposed towards Ragan and Asher’s will these days. But now that I was aware of this karmic behaviour pattern, that would change.

‘Cadwallon did some past-life regression for me, and I’ve already inserted his footage in the appropriate places, so it’s right to go. I would prefer you keep the events on that orb from Asher, until I have had a chance to speak with him myself.’ Rhun looked like a man with a mission, although he did not seem to be looking forward to executing his task.

‘Was there some dispute between yourself and King Blain?’ The question just slipped out and I wanted to die when I saw how pale his faced turned. The orb in my hand would answer all my queries; there was no need to make Rhun discuss what had obviously been a trying time for him. ‘Forgive me.’ I attempted to retract the prying enquiry, but Rhun only shook his head, pretending to be amused.

‘Once a reporter, always a reporter, hey Noah?’

‘That’s a polite way of putting it, thank you.’ I seized the opportunity to change the subject. ‘Asher stole the lead in our festival pageant,’ I announced with good cheer.

‘So Sybil informs me.’ Rhun flashed a proud smile.

‘The lad has really found his voice in the last couple of weeks. I feel sure his performance will surprise you,’ I added, as Rhun didn’t seem to give Asher his due — not that I was one to judge, having no children of my own.

‘He is a surprising soul,’ said Rhun warily, before he straightened up to depart. ‘Do me a favour, will you? Come find me when you’ve viewed the orb and we’ll have a chat.’

‘Of course,’ I agreed, more curious than ever, and anxious to get back to the Dark Ages.

It wasn’t until after I said goodbye to Rebecca the following morning that I found the opportunity to sit down with Rhun’s recording.

Determined to reach the end of this chronicle in the one sitting, I locked myself in my meditation chamber where all the sounds of the festival were trapped outside the soundproofed walls.

Rhun’s thought recordings were usually rather light-hearted and amusing, which stemmed from the fact that he was always one step ahead of everyone. Still, something told me this experience might be the exception to the rule.

‘Be brave,’ I uttered, half in humour, as I seated myself and got comfortable. ‘You’re going back to Kaileah … how bad could it be?’ I activated the orb to transmit.

Rhun entered Castell Dwyran in Dyfed and, as he made haste through the stronghold with his wife, Bridgit, and Prince Bryce of Powys, a voice-over informed me thus:

The last time I remember feeling truly content in Gwynedd was the day before I was summoned to the deathbed of my father-in-law, Vortipor — High King of allied Briton. In truth, it had been my champion, Prince Bryce, that Vortipor had summoned back to Dyfed and I had a fair idea why.

Only the boy, Vortimor, was in the bedchamber with the ailing High King when Rhun, Bridgit and Bryce entered. Vortipor’s champion, Sir Queron, who was older than the High King, was with Rhun’s party.

‘Praise the Goddess,’ Vortipor uttered wearily, motioning them all to approach with one hand and urging his boy forth with the other.

In his hands, Vortimor held parchment and a quill. ‘His Majesty asked me to pen this, so that ye may witness it,’ the lad explained, and sliding off the bed, he handed his labour to Prince Bryce.

Bryce, thinking the lad had got his lines crossed, moved to hand the missive to Rhun.

‘No!’ Vortipor protested, bursting into a coughing fit as he pointed at Bryce, insisting he read it.

‘I understand.’ Bryce moved to reassure the ailing man, reading as he went, but he came to a standstill before he reached the High King’s side. Bryce looked to Vortipor, shocked by what he read. ‘Why me, Majesty?’ The Prince was moved to tears, which was a rare event — he sounded honoured and bewildered all at once.

‘Thee became the first son of Dyfed that dreadful day,’ Vortipor stated and Bryce nodded to concede that he knew of the event to which he referred. ‘I trust thee to see my boy and Dyfed unto the rightful day of Vortimor’s rule … and Rhun and Queron be my witnesses.’

The knight, far too old to take on such a responsibility himself, nodded to confirm he understood the proceedings. ‘I shall be at thy service, of course,’ Queron assured Bryce with a slight bow.

Rhun also nodded, well pleased with Vortipor’s nominated guardian. For, as the bastard son of Brockwell with three younger brothers, Bryce stood little chance of ever ruling in Powys — especially now Blain had had a male heir, Solomon.

When those present witnessed the signing of Vortipor’s last will and testament, the leader appeared far more relaxed about his looming death. He spoke softly with his daughter for a time, urging her to watch over her younger half-brother as she always had. ‘I never really recovered from the death of thy sweet mother,’ he told Bridgit. ‘Vortimor’s mother, Anissa, eased the pain of her loss for a time, but, when Anissa was snatched from me so quickly, I gave up on love. Had it not been for thy good self and the boy,’ he glanced aside to Vortimor, ‘I would have happily packed it in long ago.’

‘Please, do not speak so,’ Bridgit wept openly, but reverently.

‘Most of the original twelve Masters have moved on and I so wish to join them. I feel in my soul that better things await me elsewhere —’ He became short on breath and was silent to recoup his energy.

‘I believe they do too, Majesty,’ Rhun stepped forward to advise, knowing something of reincarnation and the legend of the Chosen Ones.

‘Rhun!’ Bridgit scolded, barely believing he was encouraging her father to die.

As Vortipor looked to Rhun, he coughed, and drew a deep breath. ‘Thou hast excelled my expectations as a husband, a father, and a king, little Dragon … thy parents would be as proud as the Gods!’ Then the old ruler smiled broadly. ‘The elements will be looking for thee, I suspect.’ He began to chuckle and passed away with the smile still on his face.

Rhun sat alone in Vortipor’s private sitting room, distant sounds of revelry from the great leader’s wake filtering through to him from the inner bailey grounds.

Due to telepathic tendencies that Rhun had yet to gain full control of, large gatherings always disturbed him. For below the chatter Rhun heard streams of muffled unsaid garbage, which was usually of little interest and only served to give him a headache.

The large oak door swung wide and King Blain of Powys stood in the doorway. ‘So this be where thou art hiding.’ He entered, closing the door behind him.

‘I should like to stay hidden for the next few months, but I do not fancy my chances somehow.’ Rhun smiled, glad to have the company of a friend.

‘What!’ Blain strolled towards a seat on the opposite side of the fireplace to the lounge that Rhun occupied most of. ‘But one of us shall be High King before long. And either way, it serves us well.’ He plonked himself down.

Blain was right about the candidates for High King. Apart from Rhun, Blain was the longest-serving king in the alliance who was still young enough to execute the duties attached to the office.

‘Thou hast my vote,’ Rhun assured him, wholeheartedly.

‘Dost thou not want to be High King?’ Blain sounded almost disappointed that his major competition didn’t want to compete.

Rhun gave him a warning look. ‘I did not want to assume leadership of my Kingdom, let alone most of Briton!’

‘Well, neither did I,’ Blain emphasised. ‘But we art quite accomplished at this now and perfectly capable.’

‘Urien could do it.’ Rhun suggested an alternative.

‘Urien!’ Blain laughed, ‘He be little more than a child!’

‘A very smart child,’ Rhun cautioned, noticing that Blain was fiddling with something tied around his wrist. ‘What hast thou got there?’

Blain pulled up his sleeve to show off the braided leather band around his wrist with tiny feathers, bones and stones hanging off it. ‘A talisman. Javotte made it for me, for good luck.’ He smiled at a fleeting memory of his wife, before jumping back to the argument. ‘After our time hast past, Urien will have his day, but I doubt very much that he shall prove a threat at this election.’

Rhun fixed his sights on his friend to convey how earnest he felt about his wish. ‘I truly hope the vote falls thy way, Blain.’

‘Thee or me, it makes little difference … we are one.’ Blain held up his right hand that still bore the scar of their oath to each other.

Rhun returned the gesture, forgetting that upon assuming his immortal state some ten years before, all his scars had vanished.

‘Thee healed well,’ Blain frowned, unable to see a mark in the dim light of the room.

Since assuming the throne of Gwynedd, Rhun had been under orders to keep all of his immortal capabilities hidden. Taliesin, who kept a very low public profile these days, still tutored Rhun, but expressly forbade him to utilise his talent or disclose secret doctrine to anyone of this day and age. Bryce and Selwyn were the only ones with any true idea of what the King of Gwynedd was capable of, although all the lads suspected Rhun could read thoughts with a touch, just as his mother had done.

Rhun gripped Blain’s hand before his friend wished to inspect it too closely. ‘Whatever happens —’ he began, but Blain withdrew to stand.

‘It goes without saying,’ Blain assured him, appearing amused. ‘Lighten up, my friend. All those games we played and dreams we had when we were kids have been made manifest! This be our time to do some good.’

‘Blain,’ Rhun frowned, even more worried. ‘Our war games always ended up in an all-out brawl!’

Blain looked a little stumped by the realisation, but held his hands to his heart faking intense emotion. ‘But I still love thee.’ He battered his eyelids sweetly and received a cushion in the face.

The wake itself lasted for several days, as was to be expected when honouring such a beloved leader as Vortipor. But when the proceedings had finally wound to a close, a meeting of the alliance was called to elect a new head of state.

Assembled in the Room of Court at Castell Dwyran in Dyfed were Rhun, King of Gwynedd; Bryce, Protector of Dyfed; Blain, King of Powys; Conell MacErc of Dalriada; Urien, King of Gwent Is Coed; Talorg of Alban; Eormenric, ruler of the northern Saxons; Riderich Hael, King of Clyde; Elidyr, King of Reged; Elifler, King of York; and Cadoc, Catulus’ heir in Dumnonia. For the old warlord was still hanging onto life, and had sent his son-in-law to cast his vote.

This was one of the rare occasions when the alliance was graced with Taliesin’s presence. Selwyn performed the role of Master of Ceremonies, but before his agenda reached the casting of the vote, Selwyn handed Taliesin the floor.

The High Merlin hobbled forth, appearing as old as time itself and just as daunting. He raised his violet eyes to observe the gathering he was to address, and dropped the hood of his robe to expose his silvery hair. ‘Twenty years have come and gone since the first High King wast chosen and I remind ye that this position was not created by this council, but by the Lord of Annwn. Our new High King must ultimately answer to Gwyn ap Nudd, and will undergo the Night Hunter’s trial by the elements to prove his worth to the Tylwyth Teg.’

At this point Rhun had a sharp stabbing pain in his heart, recalling Vortipor’s dying words. Rhun looked to Bryce, who was staring him back; he’d obviously recalled the comment also. Seated beside Bryce was Blain, who had turned away from the High Merlin and was rolling his eyes back in his head. The performance was for the benefit of Elidyr of Reged’s amusement, who also appeared sceptical about the High Merlin’s spiel.

‘Few of us here today still recall the wrath of the Night Hunter, who laid to waste half the armies of Dyfed and Gwent twenty years ago.’ Only Bryce and Selwyn nodded in accord with Taliesin’s words. ‘And it wast only upon Maelgwn’s agreement to rule in the best interests of the Otherworld, that by the power of the elements, all the lives lost that dreadful night were restored.’ It was obvious that only half the men present considered the legend an issue at all, but they kept their disbelief to themselves in the hope of getting on with the proceedings all the faster. ‘So choose thy High King wisely, gentlemen,’ Taliesin summed up, hoping that he wasn’t wasting his breath. ‘For this be the way and the will of the Goddess.’

‘So be it!’ most were more than eager to announce, and Taliesin again stepped into the background to allow destiny to run its course.

When all had recorded their vote, Selwyn collected them. He carried the ballots forth and handed them to the High Merlin, who read the results to the whole assembly.

‘Rhun,’ Taliesin read the first, placing it aside to form a pile for the candidate. ‘Blain,’ Taliesin placed this vote aside in its own pile. ‘Rhun, Rhun, Rhun, Blain, Rhun, Blain, Blain, Blain.’ The Merlin paused before opening the deciding ballot.

‘Good grief, they art tied,’ Bryce noted, and the tension heightened. Blain had stopped breathing and Rhun bowed his head, already knowing what the ballot paper said.

Taliesin opened the last vote, seemingly surprised by what he read. ‘Urien,’ he announced, disillusioned; with eleven Kings on the council the last thing he’d expected was a draw.

Urien, however, burst into a huge smile, ‘Many thanks to whomever.’ He appeared highly honoured to have been considered a good candidate by at least one person present.

‘So now what?’ Blain wondered out loud, a tad annoyed at the delay in a result.

‘It seems clear that we must vote again with Rhun and Blain as the only candidates,’ Taliesin decreed.

Rhun gave a heavy exhalation at the decision. Urien had been his choice, so his was the deciding vote.

If thou art to head my council, Rhun, son of Maelgwn, thee must take up the challenge willingly, for it will not be an easy path for thee.

Rhun’s eyes darted around the table to see if anyone else present had heard Keridwen speak. He recognised the Goddess’ distinctive voice from a previous encounter at the time of his inauguration. None of the men at the table appeared to have heard anything, but Taliesin and Selwyn were looking straight at Rhun. He closed his eyes so as not to be swayed by anyone — if he had just voted for Blain as he had said he would, Blain would be High King and he wouldn’t be in this uncomfortable predicament. Yet something about the way Blain had withdrawn from his touch the day before made Rhun feel that he might have something to hide. Rhun looked to Blain, and caught his gaze. Rhun had mentioned Urien to him as a possible candidate and the peculiar look upon Blain’s face seemed to indicate that he might have put two and two together. The question was, did he really feel Blain would make a better High King than himself? Vortipor obviously hadn’t thought so. Was it ego or commonsense urging him to take the difficult path that the Goddess had advised lay in store? Would a vote for Blain make this path easier or more difficult?

‘Long live Rhun, High King of allied Briton!’ Taliesin announced, relieved beyond belief by the outcome of the second vote.

‘Long live the High King!’ All stood to respond, except Blain.

The King of Powys was staring at Rhun across the table, trying to discern if he’d cast the deciding vote as suspected.

Rhun was diverted from the staring match by the congratulations and pats on the back from his colleagues. The next time he looked back in Blain’s direction, the King of Powys had made himself absent.

And so it begins. Rhun wanted to go speak with him, but what could he say?

Upon noting Rhun’s perplexed expression, Bryce guessed the cause. ‘Forget Blain,’ he urged in a cheery fashion. ‘He just needs time to accept defeat. Once he hast, he shall be back with another challenge for thee.’

‘Exactly my worry.’ Rhun smiled, making light of the situation that Bryce didn’t know the half of — little did Rhun realise he didn’t know the half of it either.

The inauguration ceremony was to take place the next day, and, immediately following the event, there was to be a huge celebration, whereby the allied states would cease to mourn. After a day’s grace, the new High King would preside over his first meeting of council.

But tonight there were no social affairs scheduled for the newly appointed leader, as Taliesin had other plans for him.

At dusk, the High Merlin and Selwyn brought the initiate forth to an old grove of oak trees that encircled a large clearing.

Upon arrival, Rhun turned a couple of circles to take in his surroundings. ‘So, here I am to be tested by the Night Hunter?’ It had been awhile since the young King had undergone a truly mystical experience and so he was a little sceptical.

Taliesin found his attitude amusing. ‘Thee recognised Keridwen’s voice quickly enough in the High Court today … I expect thy past otherworldly dealings came back to haunt thee. Yesterday it wast Keridwen who observed thee, today it will be Gwyn ap Nudd.’

‘And tomorrow?’ Rhun queried in a cheeky fashion.

Taliesin cocked an eye, amused, for Rhun referred to the era when he would join the rest of the Chosen Ones. ‘That tomorrow be hundreds of years away from this point in time and space.’

‘I wish our tomorrow wast,’ Rhun grumbled. He hated ceremony, especially when he was the guest of honour.

‘As disappointed as my king wast, I feel thou art far and away the better man for the position, Majesty.’ Selwyn voiced his support. ‘I was with thy father at his trial by elements and I believe that Gwyn ap Nudd shall find thee more than worthy of his blessing.’

‘I am flattered that thou dost think so, merlin.’ Rhun forgot his woes as curiosity took hold. ‘But may I ask what this trial by elements entails, exactly?’

‘Thy trial be a test of observation and nothing more,’ Taliesin assured. ‘And, as no memory of this night’s proceedings will so much as enter thy mind, why worry?’

‘Good morning, my Highness.’

Rhun’s eyes parted, and upon discovering that he was curled up in his wife’s arms, he didn’t stir from his blissful state of delirium. The heavy fur blanket and her body shielded him from the cold morning air beyond the bed and a sweet mellow haze hung over his consciousness, casting shadows over concerns that might otherwise bring him back to earth. ‘What happened?’ he mumbled, unable to remember going to bed.

‘I wish I knew.’ Bridgit kissed his forehead. ‘But if our intimacy last night be any indication, I would say thy new status very much agrees with thee.’ She slid further down under the covers to kiss her husband’s face and mouth.

Rhun was enjoying the early morning indulgence as his mind searched for some memory of the previous night — the last thing that he recalled was Taliesin telling him that no memory of last night would ever be forthcoming. ‘My mind be completely blank!’ he sat up suddenly to announce.

Bridgit appeared stunned by his words. ‘I cannot believe that thee could forget!’ She slid up beside Rhun and wrapped her arms about his torso to shield him from the chilly air. ‘I mean, we have made some amazing love in the past, but last night wast pure magic … thou wast like a man possessed.’

Hopefully that was not the case, thought Rhun, now twice as disturbed by his memory loss. ‘I need to find Selwyn.’ He kissed his wife in conclusion and scampered out of bed to dress.

‘But it wast Selwyn who returned thee to me last night?’ Bridgit wondered after his sudden urgency.

‘And how did I seem?’ he queried, dragging on his trousers and then his boots.

Bridgit looked pensive as she thought back. ‘A little drunk, but mellow. Amorous,’ she nodded in agreement with herself, ‘in an enchanting kind of way … much like thou wast when first thee wooed me.’

Rhun finished strapping on his second boot and then reached for his shirt, pulling it on over his head. ‘Was I coherent?’

‘Extraordinarily so,’ she assured.

Rhun wondered at her answer a second, before pulling on his coat and buckling his belt.

‘Rhun!’ Bridgit scolded, looking him up and down. ‘I brought thy good clothes for thee to wear today —’

‘I will change later.’ He kissed her quickly before departing. ‘And shall be back presently, I swear by the Goddess.’ Rhun ignored any further protest she might have by heading out the door.

It was dawn, therefore Selwyn would be outdoors — sunrise and sunset were sacred to him and had been ever since Maelgwn had been pronounced High King.

Rumour had it that the Merlin had fallen in love with the Queen of the Tylwyth Teg and that he serenaded his otherworldly lover every morn and eve, come rain, snow or shine, in the hope that she would come for him. Rhun suspected this tale sprang from the native belief that at dawn and dusk the veil between Abred and Annwn was thinnest. In truth, nobody really knew why he kept his vigil or why the Merlin had lived wild for so many years. Selwyn had never disclosed his reasons to anyone, not even Taliesin.

On the trail of a harp tune, the King exited the household into the inner bailey and was surprised to spy Talorg’s Druidess, Kaileah. The holy woman stood motionless in a ray of early morning sunlight, which streamed through the arched supports of the covered walkway that ran along this side of the house. Rhun noted how serenely beautiful she appeared, as this was the first time he’d ever seen her minus the cold, hard stare that kept everyone wary of her. In this instance her expression was more a soft look of yearning. What dost she find so desirable, I wonder? He cleared the pillar that prevented him viewing her line of sight and Rhun found Selwyn playing his harp in the middle of the inner bailey gardens. Well, well … music tames the savage heart. Rhun looked back to the Druidess, who, having spotted the King, had returned the cold mask to her face and with a look of caution, she walked on.

‘Good morning to thee, merlin.’ Rhun approached as Selwyn ceased to play.

‘And a very good morning to thee, Majesty.’ He stood to address the new High King and bowed. ‘What drives thee from thy warm bed this early?’

‘Actually, I have come to inquire after what became of my very good evening?’ Rhun came straight to the point, but Selwyn was not fazed by the question.

‘Thee accompanied Taliesin into the Otherworld for thy trial with Gwyn ap Nudd, which thee passed with flying colours, I am told. The High Merlin then returned thee to me and I saw thee back to thy good queen,’ Selwyn concluded, his tone implying that he thought he was being helpful.

‘I do not remember any of it!’ Rhun became stressed. ‘How do I know it happened at all?’

‘Pardon my saying so, Majesty, but it makes no difference.’ Selwyn was unaffected by the King’s adverse reaction. ‘The Night Hunter and his dominions art appeased and so we have achieved our purpose.’

‘Well, thou wast in attendance at my father’s trial. Tell me of that.’ Rhun demanded some compensation for his memory loss.

‘But, Majesty, if thou dost not believe the event took place to enlighten thee would clearly be a waste of breath.’ Selwyn moved to place his harp in its skin.

Rhun folded his arms, heeding the point the Merlin was trying to make. ‘I have been commanded by the Goddess in her otherworldly realm. I have flown upon a dragon’s back to the four corners of the Isle. I have summoned elements, parted thunderclouds and battled demons.’ Rhun’s arms dropped to his side as he lowered his defences. ‘Could thy tale be any more unbelievable than my life to date?’

Selwyn shook his head and gave a smile.

As the Merlin now seemed more agreeable, Rhun phrased his question carefully. ‘Taliesin said the Night Hunter’s trial was a test of observation … an observation of what?’

‘Thy future.’ Selwyn looked him in the eye as he enlightened him. ‘Or at least that wast the way of it with thy father. Gwyn ap Nudd brews glowing violet ale that liberates the psyche of his subject from its physical form. He then summons forth the elemental winds to aid him to join with his initiate and perceive visions of their future whilst experiencing their emotional responses.’

‘So, I saw visions of my future last night that I cannot remember?’ Rhun was dumbfounded, half from shock and half from rage.

‘Most likely.’ Selwyn finished strapping up his harp case and stood.

‘Does Taliesin know what I saw?’ Rhun delayed the Merlin’s departure with the question.

Selwyn smiled. ‘Even if he dost, he shall plead ignorance if he doth not see fit to disclose the information.’

Rhun shook his head, not wanting to accept the fact, as there was precious little one could do about it if Taliesin took this line. ‘He hast no right to do that!’

‘Majesty …’ Selwyn urged Rhun to a calmer frame of mind. ‘Taliesin will always do right by thee and beyond that, what more doth thee really need to know?’ The Merlin bowed in parting and took his leave.

As Rhun watched him depart he considered the question put to him: was it really so important that he recall being given Gwyn ap Nudd’s blessing, when he had been voted High King by the council fair and square? Or was it that he just felt a bit odd about being pushed into voting for himself? But in all fairness, Blain had undoubtedly done the same thing and no twist of fate had forced his hand.

‘So why do I still feel so ill at ease about this?’ Rhun questioned himself out loud. Not that it made much difference how he felt about his new appointment. He would be crowned High King this day and Blain would have to learn to live with it.

Spruced up for the occasion, as every noble was, Rhun gritted his teeth and endured all the pomp and pageantry of the crowning ceremony. Taliesin led him through his vows to the Goddess and the kingdoms allied in her name, but Rhun could barely hear the High Merlin’s instruction over all the unsaid thoughts from those gathered. It was clear that many here didn’t agree with his appointment, but as Rhun could not pinpoint from whom the varying malicious thoughts stemmed, he had no way of divining just who the disgruntled parties were. When Rhun’s gaze ventured to Blain, the smile he received from him was warm and encouraging; he appeared to have recovered from his defeat. Beside Blain sat his queen, Javotte, who had daggers in her eyes.

At the celebrations afterwards, disturbing thought waves were flying thick and fast around the new High King. He never quite managed to grasp the full meaning of the distorted, fleeting whispers, but their intent made it plain that there was massive unrest within his council. Looking around the table, one would never have guessed the uneasy current underlying all the laughter and merriment, but it was there alright. Half the council had voted against Rhun to be High King, so the trick to pinpointing his foe lay in guessing the five other men who had voted for him. Bryce, Eormenric, Conell and Cadoc of Dumnonia were definite in Rhun’s mind, which left one vote unaccounted for. Urien was a possibility, but personally speaking he was far more attached to Blain, so it seemed more likely that the young King had voted for his friend. The other possibility was that Rhun had misjudged Blain and that his was the sixth vote that had secured Rhun the position of High King. Talorg, Elidyr, Riderich Hael and Elifler of York had all been brought to the council via Blain’s negotiations and thus had always been more disposed towards the Kingdom of Powys than the Kingdom of Gwynedd.

‘Talorg seems particularly social this evening,’ Sir Bryce commented in an aside to Rhun, who was seated next to him. ‘He wast chewing Conell’s ear off before and now he hast started on Riderich and Elidyr.’

‘Dalriada, Clyde and Reged.’ Rhun listed their kingdoms. ‘Talorg must be working his way down the west coast. If he keeps to his current course, Gwynedd should be next on his hit list.’

‘Or Powys.’ Bryce suggested the Pict’s more obvious target.

‘Keep an eye on him for me,’ Rhun instructed, as he spied the High Merlin looming in the doorway at the far end of the Great Hall and so rose to go after him. Completely forgetting his new status, Rhun nearly jumped out of his wits when everyone in the room rose as he did, for he had been of the mind to sneak out quietly. ‘Please continue,’ he bade his subjects, whereupon everyone resumed their activity.

‘Where art thou going?’ Bridgit took hold of his hand, her large amber eyes pleading for him to stay. ‘Thee cannot retire so early on an occasion such as this.’

‘Taliesin wants me,’ he whispered and kissed her cheek. ‘But I shall return.’

When Rhun reached the corridor outside the Great Hall, Taliesin was nowhere to be seen. As Selwyn was standing close by, Rhun inquired if he had seen which way the High Merlin had gone.

‘Sorry, Majesty, I needed to get thy attention.’

‘That wast thee and not Taliesin?’ The Merlin nodded. Rhun frowned as he noticed the black smears all over Selwyn’s face. ‘Art thou planning on riding into battle, merlin? Why the war paint all over thy face?’

As Selwyn appeared mortified by the information and began aimlessly rubbing his face, Rhun pointed out the offending marks.

‘There be some on thy neck and earlobe.’ Rhun had to refrain from laughter as he recalled Kaileah’s black painted lips.

‘Please, Majesty.’ Selwyn led the King away from the proceedings, continuing to rub his face as he went. ‘A matter of utmost urgency hast come to my attention.’

Rhun laughed at this. ‘That be frightfully obvious, merlin.’

‘It is a matter of state,’ Selwyn corrected his misconception, stressing the seriousness of his errand, ‘that concerns thee intimately.’

‘So, thou art taking me to bed?’ Rhun motioned up the stairwell they had ducked into, which led to the main sleeping quarters.

‘Nay.’ Selwyn gripped hold of both the High King’s hands. ‘Further afoot,’ he advised, willing them forth to the ring of stones where he had left the Druidess, Kaileah.

The windswept moor was rather forbidding after the warmth of the banquet hall, but it was quiet and for that Rhun was thankful. Selwyn immediately left his side. By the light of the moon, Kaileah and Selwyn whispered to each other in the middle of the ancient stone circle.

‘Hast thou dragged me all the way back to Gwynedd to admire the full moon, merlin?’ Rhun recognised the holy place and urged them to justify their actions.

‘Gwyn ap Nudd was here this night,’ Selwyn approached to begin their explanation, ‘to warn me of a conspiracy that is spreading itself through thy court.’

This was interesting to Rhun as the statement accorded with his own observations this evening. ‘Something seems to be bothering Talorg?’ he stated openly, to see what reaction this would fetch from the Druidess.

Kaileah came forth, her forbidding face on. ‘He wishes to crush the rightful claimant to his throne. Tomorrow, Talorg will try to rally support for his cause in the council.’

‘The rightful claimant?’ Rhun queried.

‘Talorg wast only to rule until Bridei, great-great-grandson of Cunedda, was old enough to assume the throne.’

The High King was taken aback by Bridei’s family line. ‘Dost thou mean to say that this king be my kindred?’

Selwyn nodded to confirm this. ‘A very strong family resemblance seems to support the theory.’

‘Thou hast met this warlord, merlin?’ Rhun assumed.

‘In a vision,’ Selwyn explained. ‘But I shall seek an audience with Bridei at the first opportunity and advise thee as more information comes to hand.’

Rhun looked to Kaileah, wondering about her loyalties. He held out his hand to her, hoping she would take hold. ‘I thought thou wast druidess to Talorg, Kaileah?’

‘Thou art suspicious.’ The Druidess made it known that she knew about Rhun’s telepathic know-how, but placed her hand in the High King’s confidently. ‘I have nothing to hide from thee, any more.’ She looked to Selwyn briefly then back to Rhun. ‘I am the servant of the royal line of my people, and I serve the rightful king.’ Kaileah observed Rhun with an expression of familiarity. ‘There can be no doubting that Bridei and thee spring from the same common ancestor. What other explanation could there be for it?’

‘For what?’ Rhun wondered.

‘The resemblance,’ Kaileah informed.

‘Reports indicate that thee could be twins,’ Selwyn added. ‘But not one for hearsay, Majesty, I shall believe the likeness when I have seen this warlord myself.’

‘Thee will not believe thine eyes,’ Kaileah spoke up. ‘Talorg hast seen the resemblance that reinforces his enemy’s claim to the throne. Thus, he will do everything within his power to prevent thee from ever meeting Bridei.’

‘Then we should meet, as soon as possible,’ Rhun resolved, intrigued, and having detected no ulterior motives within the Druidess, Rhun let go of her hand.

‘I shall arrange it, Majesty.’ Selwyn thought Rhun’s decision was the right one.

‘But the knowledge of this arrangement will not go beyond this circle … and,’ Rhun hated to say this, as the two holy people were obviously just getting to know one another on intimate terms, ‘you two should not be seen together.’

‘Nor will we be,’ Selwyn assured, before looking back to the Druidess. ‘I should return our High King to his feast. I will return for thee presently.’

‘I can wait.’ She walked away to seat herself against a stone for shelter against the wild wind.

‘Fear not, Majesty, I shall make sure no one witnesses our return.’ Selwyn gripped Rhun’s hand to return him to Dyfed.

‘This seems an unfortunate turn of events for thee, merlin.’ Rhun glanced back at the Druidess, having picked up on how overwhelming her secret feelings for Selwyn were. ‘I am sorry for that.’

‘The Goddess guides my destiny,’ Selwyn stated rather dryly. ‘And I am hoping this shall prove just a minor inconvenience rather than an unfortunate event.’

Rhun forced a smile to agree with his view. ‘With all my heart, merlin, I hope thou art right.’

At the first meeting of the allied states under Rhun’s command, no mention of the civil battle in Alban was mentioned, by Talorg or anyone. It seemed there were bigger fish to fry at present.

‘Morcant of the Bernicians hast allied himself with Caten of Lothian and may succeed in taking the Wall!’ Riderich of Clyde, who had the floor, referred to Hadrian’s Wall that separated his kingdom from York and Reged to the south.

To the east of Riderich’s Kingdom of Clyde was an area once known as Gododdin. Cunedda had migrated to Gwynedd from the far north of Gododdin over a century before. In this great warlord’s wake two dynasties had arisen in the area. The first descended from a Breton ruler, Germanianus, whose capital was the hill fort of Yeavering Bell, south of the Tweed. The second dynasty had sprung from a Roman prefect, Leudonus, who ruled as a king in Lothian after building a fortress at Traprain Law. Morcant Bule was the reigning heir of Germanianus’ line in the south, and Caten ruled as King of Lothian in the north. Separately, both kingdoms had attacked Clyde in the past, but as neither were as large as Clyde, Reged or York, they had always been fended off with a minimal amount of effort and expense. But now that Lothian and Bernicia had joined forces, they posed more of a threat.

‘They shall be after Carlisle next!’ Elidyr of Reged interjected, all hot and bothered. Carlisle was currently one of the main strongholds of his Kingdom.

This middle-aged ruler was not one of Rhun’s favourite people, and Elidyr was not particularly well disposed towards Rhun, or rather, Gwynedd, either. This stemmed from an ancient dispute over land back in the early days of their Grandfather’s rule. For someone who claimed to be from Cunedda’s line, Elidyr lacked all of the physical family traits. The King of Reged had fair red hair and pinkish skin that freckled easily. His face was round, he was short of stature and he was a little on the plump side. Rhun didn’t see or sense kindred in him at all. And yet, if Elidyr’s ancestral claim was true, the warlord would be no further removed from Rhun in the family tree than Bryce or Blain were.

‘I do not have to point out the problems that would arise for trade and so forth if Morcant succeeds in his aims.’ Riderich continued his argument for declaring war. ‘We should crush this threat now, before this thorn in our side begins to fester.’

‘Here, here!’ Elidyr and Elifler seconded in harmony, as always.

Elifler was Elidyr’s younger cousin, and having not as much ‘spine’ as his elder, he sided with Elidyr on every issue. The family resemblance and colouring was constant with them, although Elifler was younger and a few pounds lighter.

Dalriada was tucked safely away from the strife behind Clyde, so this dispute did not really concern Conell too much, although he was prepared to reinforce Clyde with support troops. As Alban was situated just above all the target areas, Rhun sought the Pictish leader’s opinion. ‘Has Morcant threatened the north in any respect, Talorg?’

‘My people art still greatly feared in the south by our enemies, Majesty … Caten will not venture to cross the Forth, unless he wishes to die,’ he said smugly.

‘Then perhaps thy warriors would be our best defence,’ Rhun reasoned, believing the warlord would hesitate to volunteer troops if civil strife was afoot in his own kingdom.

But Talorg smiled broadly at the suggestion, his tattooed face enhancing his already menacing appearance. ‘I shall be more than happy to bring my demons to the party, if thou doth wish it.’

Something wasn’t right here, Rhun decided. He knew Kaileah and Selwyn were telling the truth last night, to the best of their knowledge anyway, as Rhun had touched their souls and felt their good intentions. So why was Talorg so eager to aid Riderich if he had troubles of his own? There was something these northern allies weren’t telling him. Still, Rhun refused to believe Conell MacErc of Dalriada would conspire against him.

Conell was a simple man, so far as his loyalties ran. Like his father before him, the mighty Fergus MacErc, Conell was loyal to the ruling High King and adhered to him only. Although he was not a scholarly king, he had an innocent wisdom that kept him in everyone’s good books. A big, brawny man from big, brawny stock, there were few who desired to oppose Conell in any case.

‘I shall send in a negotiator —’ Rhun began.

‘Begging thy pardon, Majesty,’ Riderich interrupted. ‘Morcant hast already refused to negotiate. I have lost three messengers in an attempt to have a written refusal for thy examination. I pray thou shalt not request that I sacrifice another.’

How convenient, thought Rhun as he pondered how he might squeeze his way out of the corner he was being backed into. Were he not being influenced by what Kaileah had told him last night, Rhun would have thought this a battle of pressing urgency. Every man here obviously did. They all frowned as they awaited his word, wondering why he delayed his consent. Rhun again fixed his sights on Riderich. ‘What dost thou require from us?’

Of course, what the King of Clyde wanted was every spare soldier on the Isle to bombard the ancient kingdom of Gododdin and wipe Morcant and Caten’s kingdoms from the map — not saying anything about substantially extending his own kingdom in the process.

Eormenric and Cadoc’s forces were still tied up battling Cynric in the South and were presently receiving reinforcements from Powys, Gwent and Dyfed. Thus Rhun suggested York, Reged and Alban assist Clyde to drive back the threat against the Kingdom.

‘And what about Gwynedd’s troops, Highness?’ Riderich seemed less than satisfied.

‘Gwynedd’s troops are needed to defend the coast, as art Conell’s men in Dalriada.’

‘As are my men, and Riderich’s,’ Elidyr protested. ‘And if we can leave major towns less than secure, surely Gwynedd can spare a few of her Master warriors to aid our cause?’

Rhun nodded in accord, considering this a fair request. ‘I have a couple of legions at Caernarvon that I could send to thee.’

Riderich bowed, appeased by the offer. ‘I shall endeavour to crush this threat quickly, Majesty.’

‘I trust thee will, Riderich,’ Rhun replied, fully suspecting that the plot had just thickened considerably.

It would take Riderich at least a month to organise his forces for the attack, and by then Rhun hoped to have discovered the sub-plot that was unfolding underneath the whitewash of this defensive strike.

21

The Penitent Man

It was with a heavy heart that Bryce bid farewell to Rhun on the steps of the inner bailey at Castell Dwyran, as they had spent every working minute in each other’s company for the last ten years. As he moved to bow to Rhun in parting, the High King wouldn’t have it. He took up Bryce’s hand and grasped it firmly.

‘I cannot imagine making a decision without thee, Bryce.’ Rhun placed his free hand on his best friend’s shoulder. ‘But, in another amazing emulation of thy father’s illustrious career, Gwynedd must again sacrifice her champion to gain a powerful and just ally. Gwynedd’s loss be Dyfed’s gain … for we shall miss thy counsel dearly.’

As Bryce opened his mouth to return Rhun’s sentiment, their attention was drawn to their wives, who were embracing each other and weeping incessantly.

‘Oh for pity’s sake, ladies.’ Rhun couldn’t bear it any more. They’d been like this for days now. ‘If parting be so sorrowful, why dost thou not stay on for awhile with Aella, and come back to Gwynedd when thou art ready?’

‘Thanks awfully, Majesty.’ Bryce cringed as the two women were immediately appeased by the idea. Tears turned to excited chatter and laughter, as the women set about organising for the High Queen’s belongings to be taken back into the stronghold.

Rhun looked to Bryce and shrugged, with an apologetic look on his face. ‘I shall take them next month.’

‘Good deal,’ Bryce chuckled, mischievously.

‘That wast not what I meant.’ Rhun began to chuckle also. ‘Still … tempting!’ Rhun said with a grin, as they admired the two beautiful women in question. But Rhun and Bryce became straight-faced when Bridgit suddenly recalled that Rhun was leaving, and so headed their way.

‘What am I to do without thee?’ Bridgit slid her arms around his neck and gazed up at him fondly.

‘What a coincidence.’ Rhun threatened to mention the conversation he’d just been having with Bryce. But Aella was Christian and very pious, and would frown upon such talk, even in jest. Bridgit, on the other hand, if she didn’t go for the idea, would most certainly have found it amusing and flattering. Still, whatever Bridgit knew Aella knew and thus Bryce stood shaking his head in the negative with a pleading look in his eyes.

‘Did I miss a joke?’ Bridgit noted the looks Bryce and Rhun were giving each other. Thus she clutched Rhun’s jaw to focus his attention on her for a moment. ‘Would thee care to delay thy journey an hour or two?’ She became amorous, without care for who was looking on.

‘Oh, I see.’ Rhun played up his insult and rejection. ‘When thou wast to be parted from Aella it wast all tears and the world was coming to an end. But now that thou art to be parted from me, a quick roll in the sack and thou shalt send me packing happily.’

Bridgit only laughed, as it wasn’t so far from the truth, but then, in their bed was the only time she really had Rhun to herself. Back in Gwynedd he would be tied up with the affairs of state, even more so now that he was High King. Better that she stayed here to help Aella settle into her new home.

Young Cadwell and Vortimor got along well despite an age difference of four years. Aella and Bryce’s daughter, Chloe, had been born the same year as Cadwell and they were joined at the hip. Chloe and Cadwell had conveniently gone missing this morning and it had taken hours and legions to find them. Now the children would think it was their protest that had succeeded in keeping them together, but in reality nobody in these two families wanted to part — unfortunately, Rhun had to.

The next few weeks were a bit of a blur for poor Bryce. There was so much reorganisation to be done and a backlog of state affairs to be seen to, as Vortipor had been sick for some time. He was pleased now that Bridgit had chosen to stay with them, as she was doing a fine job of making his wife feel at home in the dwelling that had been Bridgit’s childhood home.

On this particular afternoon, Bryce had been going through the prison lists and had come across an ‘unknown’ entry. He was on his way to speak with the lower dungeon warden, when he happened to spy Vortimor seated on a chair in a hallway all by himself. ‘Art thou alright, Vortimor? Where art the other children?’

The boy shrugged, a sad expression on his face but no tears. ‘I am used to being on my own,’ he said, with not a hint of spite.

Bryce’s heart melted with the boy’s words. He remembered himself as an orphan on the streets of Aberffraw, before the fateful day Tory Alexander had found him. He knew all too well how it felt to be five and all alone in the world. ‘Well,’ Bryce swallowed his emotion. ‘I am going down to discover the identity of a mysterious prisoner, would thee like to come?’

Vortimor cocked his head to one side and had a think about it for a second. ‘Sure,’ he decided with a shrug, sliding off the chair and ambling along to catch Bryce up. ‘Will he be deformed?’ he inquired with interest.

‘Maybe,’ Bryce played up the mystery, ‘for if these records art correct, the unknown prisoner has been with us awhile.’ He gave the papers to the boy to look over, so that he might feel part of the mission and Vortimor looked them over as if pretending to comprehend the documentation.

Once Bryce and Vortimor reached the lower prison level, they found a warden who was stunned beyond belief to see them. ‘Majesties!’ The warden fell right off his chair, which amused Vortimor greatly. ‘Art ye lost?’ He scrambled to a kneeling position. ‘The last man I saw down in these parts of the castle was the great Vortipor himself!’ The warden played up his character when he saw the noble child was amused.

‘Interesting that thee should say so … for we are looking for an unknown prisoner.’ Bryce cued Vortimor to hand over the papers.

‘It wast not my intent to be interesting,’ the warden confessed as he took the papers, although he did not bother to look at them. ‘I know who ye have come for, Majesties, for this level of the dungeon be reserved for one prisoner only. The one the Protector locked up all those years ago.’

‘Twenty years according to the record books. Hold on.’ Bryce stopped to think about it, figuring that was about the same time they’d taken Aurelius Conan into custody — but Vortipor had reported having him executed shortly afterward. ‘Dost thou know the prisoner’s name?’

The warden nodded, warily. ‘But I vowed to the late and great Vortipor that I would never utter it to a soul.’

Bryce rolled his eyes. ‘Just nod if I am right in saying … Aurelius Conan.’ When the warden confirmed his guess, Bryce nearly died. He’d hated Conan with a vengeance during the time of his short reign of terror in Gwent, but twenty years in this place was more than the worst of men deserved. ‘How fares the prisoner?’ The thought of finding out made Bryce squeamish, and he was a hardened warrior.

‘I am not permitted to speak with him, only feed him,’ the warden explained. He didn’t really know what kind of shape the prisoner was in.

‘Then how dost thou know he still lives?’ Bryce gripped his head; the sad plight of this soul just got worse and worse.

‘He mumbles to himself sometimes.’ The warden scratched his head, a bit dazed by the sudden concern for his charge. ‘And he farts once in awhile,’ he concluded, then finding his wits, he humbled himself. ‘No offence to ye, Majesties.’

‘Oh Goddess.’ Bryce took a deep breath to fetch up some courage. The last time they’d met, he’d killed Conan. It seemed ironic that now he was here to liberate him. ‘I want thee to wait here for me,’ he advised the boy.

‘Thou art not of the mind to go down there, Majesty!’ The warden was mortified. ‘Please,’ he grovelled on the ground at Bryce’s feet, ‘let me go!’

‘I know this man,’ Bryce explained. ‘Please, just stay with the lad.’

Not surprisingly the warden was happy with Bryce’s instruction. ‘I cannot say how right he be in the head, Majesty,’ the warden yelled after Bryce, who didn’t respond.

Water trickled down the walls of the old stone passageway. Bryce trod warily, as the ground beneath his boots was slippery. The tunnel was lit by a single torch, which he dislodged from its support in the wall to see his way by. The large cavernous chamber at the end contained only a heavy metal grate in the floor, the lever that raised it, and a few resident rats. To wind the old, iron-chain lever, Bryce placed the torch aside. The archaic mechanism took a bit of muscle to get moving, but after winding it one full rotation, it eased up and moved with less effort. With the heavy grille raised high, Bryce secured the lever, and taking up the torch, he moved toward the opening in the floor.

The stench that flowed from the darkened pit was too overwhelming to breathe through one’s nose — even inhaling through his mouth made Bryce gag. ‘Aurelius Conan?’ he called down into the void, gasping quietly for the want of fresh air. There came no response but Bryce did hear something moving about below. He didn’t want to shine the torch down there for fear of blinding the prisoner, who had obviously not seen light for twenty years. ‘If thou art unable to speak with me, please make some sound to confirm thou art alive?’

‘Vortipor?’ a quiet husky voice strained to call.

‘The Protector hast died. It be Prince Bryce of Powys who addresses thee, Conan. Dost thou remember me?’

‘Kill me,’ the prisoner wheezed.

‘Aye, I did,’ Bryce confirmed, misinterpreting Conan’s response. ‘I believed Vortipor had killed thee also and yet here thou still art.’ Bryce thought this was a sure sign from the Goddess that this man, for whatever reason, was meant to live. ‘Art thou repentant for thy crimes against thine homeland and her people, Aurelius Conan?’

The sound of weeping came from the pit below. ‘I am,’ he announced finally, in an agonised cry. ‘Please take pity. Kill me.’

‘I am not here to kill thee.’ Bryce crouched lower, although his sense of smell begged him not too. ‘I am offering thee thy freedom, Conan.’

‘Nay!’ he screeched, horrified by the notion. ‘Kill me, please! Please, please, mercy sake’s please!’ His pleas trailed off as he again collapsed into exhausted tears.

‘Alright.’ Bryce agreed, as the prisoner was going into hysterics. ‘I am coming down there. Art thou well clear of the hole?’

‘Aye,’ he confirmed between straining for breath.

‘Warden!’ Bryce called. ‘Some rope.’

As Bryce lowered himself into the pit, the foul stench increased tenfold and as his boots made contact with the floor they slid and sank into the filth that covered it. Bryce had instructed the warden to shine the torch over the pit but not in it. Beyond the slim beam of light in which he stood, nothing could be seen in the darkness of the surrounding dungeon. The rodent population was bigger down here, however. The rats’ incessant chatter was almost deafening. ‘Where shall I find thee?’ Bryce questioned and heard the sound of something heavy being dragged through the sludge behind him. When he turned to find a slimy, slug-like thing dragging itself towards him, Bryce moved to be of aid.

‘Stay clear of me,’ Conan insisted.

In the outer shadow of the torchlight the prisoner raised his head. Only the whites of his eyes could be seen for the muck and hair that covered his body. It was difficult to assess his physical condition, beyond that he’d lost the use of his legs.

‘End this.’ He shaded his eyes against the glare of the light. ‘And leave me here to feed the rats,’ he strained to request.

Bryce drew his sword, although only to give the prisoner false comfort. ‘I cannot in good conscience take thy life without first informing thee that thou hast a son … living, breathing and ruling in Gwent.’

Conan’s eyes opened as wide as they were able, before he bowed his head for shame. ‘Vortipor’s queen,’ he uttered, sounding devastated by the revelation.

‘Aye,’ Bryce replied, ‘she fell pregnant to thee and died in birthing. But the fruit of her labour hast healed thy Kingdom of all its old wounds, Conan. Thy boy’s name be Urien.’

‘Urien,’ he mumbled, curling up into a ball as he was reduced to tears once more.

Bryce gave Conan some time to accept this change of circumstance and become somewhat calm, but eventually the stench compelled him to ask the pertinent question. ‘Doth thee still wish to die this day?’

‘I do,’ Conan conceded without a second’s thought. ‘But clearly, God hast made other arrangements.’

To move the prisoner to the main part of the fortress proved a major exercise, as his cell had not been designed for release. A blindfold protected Conan’s eyes from the light, and several guards aided Bryce to strap him on a stretcher and raise him out of the pit. A large area in the servants’ quarters was set up as a bathing and swabbing room for the patient. As Conan was in such a horrifying physical state, only the most senior staff were recruited to tend him in a minimal amount of light — for both the comfort of the patient and his carers.

Vortimor had taken a decided interest in the proceedings and was waiting patiently outside the tending area to meet the prisoner once he was considered presentable. The patient’s clean-up was obviously causing Conan pain, even though the staff had been instructed to be as gentle with the fragile man as possible. Cries of agony had been resounding out of the area all afternoon, but the clean-up campaign must have nearly concluded, as all had gone quiet.

‘He sure did smell bad,’ commented the boy as he wandered across to the kitchen area where Bryce was nibbling on some food that had been laid out ready for supper.

‘Well, thee would smell bad too … stuck down a hole for twenty years.’ Bryce passed the boy a piece of pheasant and noted that he’d got Vortimor thinking.

The boy shook his head to reject the food. ‘Why did father do it?’ Clearly Vortimor felt for Conan and was glimpsing a side of his late father that he had never before imagined.

Bryce lifted the boy to a seat on the bench, where he could address him face to face. ‘This man committed some very grievous crimes against Dyfed, Gwent, and more importantly, the Goddess. Thy father arranged this punishment for Conan, so that he might see the error of his ways, given time. Conan assured me he hast repented and I believe him.’ Bryce looked questioningly at Vortimor to see if he agreed with his judgement.

Vortimor raised his eyebrows and gave a shrug. ‘Well, he surely won’t pose much of a threat, even if he hast not.’

Bryce smiled, finding the boy’s reasoning quite sound and he was surprised to find he felt rather proud of him. Bryce had always wanted a son, but due to complications with Chloe, Aella had yet to conceive again. So, without any pain to his good wife, the Goddess had graced them with this fine lad, whom any man would be proud to call son.

‘He will be deformed,’ said Vortimor surely, saddened by the fact now.

Bryce nodded. ‘But with time and care, who knows? He may yet mend.’ He ruffled the lad’s hair to raise his spirits. ‘We shall wait and see how bad the damage, and then do all within our power to help him heal.’

Vortimor nodded, the smile returning to his face. ‘We shall see to it personally.’ He took the piece of meat from Bryce and ripped into it.

‘We will,’ Bryce assured him, as the head maidservant, Elsie, finally emerged from the screened-off area with her assistants.

She alone approached the nobles to give them the diagnosis, bowing to both the Prince and the heir apparent.

It was clear that Elsie barely knew where to begin to list the man’s ailments. The patient was weak and thin from malnutrition, and, unable to hold himself upright, had lost the use of his legs. His body was covered by scores of festering sores that were slowly eating away at his skin and bone. The staff had dressed the worst of these wounds to prevent them from smelling. The patches of Conan’s skin that were not open wounds, were covered with bites. The staff had managed to remove most of the parasites from his body when they cut all the hair from Conan’s head and face. Hopefully, having exhausted three tubs of water bathing the man, the rest of his infestations had drowned and been washed away.

‘May we see him now?’ Vortimor looked to Bryce for permission, and Bryce looked to Elsie.

‘He hast been dressed in a large hooded cloak.’ She put to rest the fear that his appearance might disturb the noble child. ‘And hast been given soup, bread and mead. I have done all I can for today.’

‘Most well done, Elsie, we greatly appreciate thy pains,’ Bryce excused her.

‘All in a day’s work, Highness.’ She bowed to them both and departed for the kitchen to catch up on other chores.

Behind the curtain, the area was now mopped clean, and Conan sat at a small table, savouring mead from a cup. Most of him was hidden by the hooded robe. Only his hands protruded and even they were a mass of bandages, for he had several fingers missing.

‘If thou art feeling up to it, we have come to see thee to some sleeping quarters, where thee might rest properly,’ Bryce said.

The hooded figure waved a finger at the lad. ‘This cannot be …?’

‘Nay.’ Bryce quickly corrected Conan’s misconception. ‘This be the young heir of Dyfed, Vortimor. The lad thou art mistaking him for be a man, twenty years upon this earth.’

‘Twenty years,’ Conan repeated, sounding both amazed and bewildered. ‘Time plays tricks in the dark … every moment lasts an eternity and in a heartbeat twenty years vanish.’

Vortimor left Bryce’s side and took a few steps towards Conan. ‘As thou hast endured thy punishment honourably and art of noble birth, we have arranged to have thee stay in one of the guest quarters, until thou art well again. We hope —’ The lad ceased to speak as Conan gave a slight chuckle.

‘Forgive me young Protector, I do not mock thee,’ he explained, forced to take a moment to regain his breath. ‘I fear this body will not recover, but if it serves me long enough to speak with my son, I shall die a happy man.’

‘Then we will fetch thy son to thee.’ Vortimor looked to Bryce.

‘I have already sent word for him to return, and I have sent for the Lord Bishop Samson, also.’ Samson had been Conan’s childhood tutor and Bryce felt sure he would want to see him.

‘I do not wish my boy to know who I am, just yet,’ Conan stated.

‘I have not mentioned the reason why I requested their presence, Conan, but I took the liberty of making haste on thy behalf.’ Bryce didn’t understand how this man was still alive, but he was certain Conan did not have long to wait before he would finally be rid of his diseased earthly vessel.

Conan’s head bowed low as he silently began to weep again.

‘Why art thou crying?’ Vortimor moved closer and gently placed a hand on the ailing man’s arm.

‘Thy goodness overwhelms me,’ he mumbled. ‘’Tis more than I deserve.’

‘All men art deserving of kindness, Conan,’ said Vortimor, ‘but not all men understand that.’ The lad handed him a cloth to dry his eyes. ‘We shall keep thy secret and thee shall see thy son, thou hast our word.’

Conan didn’t have a chance of regaining his composure, as the boy was breaking Bryce’s heart with all his goodwill. The poor lad couldn’t work out why, for all his reassurances, his patient wouldn’t stop crying.

Bridgit had been eight years old when Conan kidnapped her mother during his brief reign of terror, and although she didn’t exactly know what had transpired during that terrible time, she did know that her mother had never recovered. Bridgit had been sent off to convent school in Brittany soon after Conan was apprehended, and her mother died whilst she was away. Needless to say the High Queen freaked when she discovered that Conan had surfaced this day and was resting peacefully in quarters close by.

‘Why did thee not kill him?’ she demanded to know, rocked by the after-supper conversation around the fire in the Great Hall, where only the noble family were gathered.

‘Well, I offered —’ Bryce justified.

‘What dost thou mean, thee offered! Give me a sword and I shall run him through myself!’ she decreed, getting up on her high horse.

‘Run him through for what, Majesty?’ Her resolve angered Bryce and he snapped from his placid mood into full attack mode.

It was so rare an occurrence for Bryce to lose his cool that everyone paused to take a breath.

‘Thou dost not know the extent of his crimes, nor the time he hast spent in hell to atone for them. I was there and I believe that he hast served his due.’

‘Easy for thee to say. It wast not thy family he destroyed!’ Bridgit braved challenging him, which she had never had to do before. ‘I am High Queen of Briton now Bryce, and I order thee to put Conan back in the pit where my father left him to rot and let him do exactly that.’

Bryce was momentarily drawn between his loyalty to state, from which Bridgit’s new authority stemmed, and his loyalty to the Goddess within — that gut feeling that told him it was important that Conan be freed. ‘If thee can set foot in Conan’s abode of twenty years and to his face condemn him to return there, then I will consider thy judgement well informed.’

Bridgit held her head high in defiance. ‘Lead the way then.’

‘Excellent!’ Vortimor jumped to his feet to trail along, as did the other two children, Cadwell and Chloe.

‘Nay princess,’ Aella called Chloe back to her by the fire.

‘I think we should all see where our guest has been staying,’ Bryce advised his wife. ‘Thee too, my love.’ He waved Aella after him and she reluctantly complied with his wish.

As the womenfolk cowered in the tunnel entrance to the cavern, repulsed by the smell and the rodents, Bryce was the only one who ventured inside and he had the torch. ‘Come Majesty, thee can get a fair idea of the conditions from above here.’ He leaned over the opening to the pit.

‘I can get a fair idea from here,’ Bridgit gasped, having lost some of her conviction.

Cadwell and Vortimor ventured a look, with both hands covering their nose and mouth.

‘Grotesque, grandpa,’ uttered Cadwell, as he viewed below. ‘Thy father really knew how to torture the bad guys,’ he uttered aside to Vortimor in jest.

‘My father wast not like that,’ Vortimor defended.

‘Then what be this?’ Cadwell argued. ‘A figment of our imagination?’

‘Cadwell …’ Bryce pulled him up. ‘So severe a punishment wast not undertaken lightly, and should not be spoken of lightly.’

‘I think thou hast made thy point, Bryce,’ Aella reasoned, rather perturbed by the conditions her husband had led their family into to make a statement. ‘These rats and filth cannot be doing the children any good. Can we please leave.’

Bryce moved back to the women so that he might view Bridgit by the light of the torch. ‘Have I made my point, Highness?’

Bridgit’s defiant stare melted into a look of defeat and she nodded. ‘I should not have questioned thy judgement.’ Bridgit took a stab at an apology. ‘For I see it be justified … thanks for sharing,’ she concluded coldly, turning to take her leave of the wretched place, her skirt hoisted high to avoid contact with the slime on the ground.

The look Aella gave Bryce as she departed with their daughter told him he’d best find a spare bed to sleep in this night.

Cadwell had a chuckle at seeing a superior in trouble as he headed out after the women.

‘At least thee achieved our objective,’ Vortimor reassured his stepfather, as they lagged behind the others.

As the lad was staggering a little, overdue to his bed, Bryce lifted him up to carry him the rest of the way. ‘That thought will keep me warm tonight.’ He poured on a little cheer for the child’s benefit.

‘Me too,’ Vortimor concurred. ‘I think I am going to like running my Kingdom with thee, Bryce … we did good today.’

Bryce was pleased he thought so, although it still remained to be seen if they had indeed done the right thing in freeing Conan.

Urien arrived a few days later, in the company of the Lord Bishop, Samson of Glamorgan.

The young ruler of Gwent was all fired up from the ride. His blue eyes sparkled, his face glowed and his unruly blonde curls were windblown from his journey. He was a good-sized fellow and although Urien was the youngest on the council, he was bold of character. Urien had never found it necessary to exert any kind of force to get his way and, so far as it was known, he’d never raised a fist in anger. His optimistic and charming ways made some men on the council uneasy, as they were used to being wary and defensive — traits Urien didn’t even acknowledge.

‘I realise I am irresistible, Bryce, but could thee just try to live without me for a few days?’ Urien pretended to be put out as he approached the Protector of Dyfed, and broke into a smile to shake his hand.

‘I am sorry to drag thee back here already, but a situation hast arisen …’ Bryce paused, not wanting to say too much. ‘But before I enlighten thee, I must beg thy patience, for I must first have a word with the Lord Bishop.’ Bryce wanted to wince as he said this, for he knew how odd it seemed.

Urien looked from Bryce to Samson, fit to laugh; the Protector clung to the old ways of his people and hadn’t the remotest interest in the Roman faith. ‘But thou hast never had two words to say to Samson in the past?’

‘I feel today will be full of surprises,’ Bryce advised, motioning his guests to follow him inside.

Urien was more than happy to be left in the company of the ladies, and was delighted to find that Bridgit was still in residence, as he’d always found her easy company.

Bryce led Samson through the house in silence, having no desire whatsoever to become acquainted with him. Bryce’s wife subscribed to the Roman faith and he respected her beliefs, but having witnessed all the otherworldly phenomenon that he had in his lifetime, Bryce would not renounce his own beliefs to suit anyone.

The Lord Bishop was not a young man any more and so their pace was rather slow.

‘I wast leaving for Cadley Island when thy messenger reached me, Highness.’ Samson sounded anxious to have the delay explained. ‘My whole family art awaiting me, so that we might depart for our new life.’

‘I feel thy delay be well justified,’ Bryce replied, ‘for thou hast unfinished business here on the mainland.’

Samson frowned, bewildered and a little concerned.

Bryce glanced back to catch Samson’s reaction as they arrived at the chamber they sought. ‘Fear not. I am certain thou shalt not be detained long.’ He invited Samson inside.

When the Lord Bishop beheld the wheezing scrap of a man propped up in the bed before him, he didn’t know how to react. ‘Thou hast brought me all this way to give a dying man absolution?’ he asked Bryce discreetly.

‘It would take more than a priest to clear my path to God,’ croaked Conan, whereby Samson gasped and turned as pale as a sheet.

Upon realising the identity of the hooded figure, he could scarcely believe the transformation. ‘Dear God almighty.’

It was evening before Samson surfaced from Conan’s chamber.

‘He hast decided to set the record straight,’ the Lord Bishop informed the Protector. ‘And he wishes to come down to address those concerned.’

‘The children will be in bed soon, and only those involved shall remain in the Great Hall,’ Bryce decided. ‘I shall arrange for a couple of men to bring Conan down to us.’

In the Great Hall, Urien was beginning to get testy. He had been waiting around all afternoon for some answers, which no one seemed willing to supply. ‘Well, Aella, I thank thee for thy hospitality.’ He rose to make a move.

‘Thou art not leaving?’ Aella objected, although only Bryce knew why. Her husband needed Urien here and it was her job to stall him.

‘I must. I have things to do, places to be,’ he justified, politely.

Aella breathed a sigh of relief as Bryce and Samson came through the doors of the Great Hall with two guards in tow, who were carrying the chair of the hooded invalid. Bridgit gasped in horror when she realised who the passenger was and backed away for fear of the man.

‘Highness?’ Urien noted her distress and looked to the cause. ‘Will someone please tell me what in heaven’s name be going on?’

‘In heaven’s name … I can enlighten thee.’ Conan’s voice croaked out from beneath his large dark hood, as the two burly guards lowered his seat to the ground.

‘And who might thee be, Sir?’ Urien cocked his head to inquire, sounding about as agitated as Bryce had ever heard him.

‘I am the ghost of mystery’s past, come to define thy rightful place in the world,’ advised Conan, whereupon all hint of joy fell from Urien’s face.

‘My rightful place be ruling in Gwent!’ he defended. Knowing so little about his claim to his birthright, Urien feared this stranger had come forward to disprove his lineage.

‘Calm thyself, Highness.’ Samson neared to assure him. ‘This man be here to give, not take away.’

‘Ha!’ Bridgit scoffed, threatening to expose Conan as she came forward to confront him. ‘That would be a new trick for thee.’ She managed to maintain the protocol of the proceedings and did not mention his name.

‘Thou art thy mother’s daughter, and thy father’s daughter also.’ Conan let Bridgit know that he knew who she was, seeing both Vortipor and the Lady Cara in the woman before him.

‘Aye, I am the Lady Cara’s daughter, sure enough, which be why I believe thee should still be rotting in hell,’ she spat back at him.

‘Highness!’ Urien was surprised at her. He’d never before seen Bridgit so uncivil.

‘Nay.’ Conan accepted the blame. ‘Her Highness hast good reason to despise me … I kidnapped and raped her good mother in cold blood.’ He regained his son’s full attention. ‘And the Lady Cara would have died by my hand that day had Prince Bryce not saved her from my battery.’

Bridgit gasped, as the tears of past horror began streaming down her face. ‘But thou wast little more than a child.’ She looked to Bryce, seeing him in an entirely new light.

‘Thou hast this Prince to thank for thy life, Urien,’ Conan continued, ‘for thanks to he, thy mother lived long enough to die giving birth to thee.’

Bridgit’s horrified eyes turned to Urien. As shock turned to elation they embraced, realising they were brother and sister.

‘I have kindred,’ announced Urien, immediately catapulted into a state of euphoria by the fact. ‘Lots of it!’ He let Bridgit go as his mind boggled. ‘Not only have I a sister, but I have a nephew and a stepbrother!’

Those present couldn’t help but get caught up in the man’s excitement. However, it abruptly waned as he looked back to Conan. ‘And I have a father.’

‘Nay.’ Conan shook his head. ‘Thee sprang from my royal seed, but I wast never thy father and will never claim to be. Samson, Leoline and Taliesin art thy fathers.’ He paused to catch his breath, for he wheezed terribly — his lungs were failing from living in the damp and cold. ‘I sought this meeting only to confess the truth which hast been kept from thee due to the dark nature of my crimes. An apology or an explanation will not aid thee like the simple facts. They be all I have to offer in atonement —’

Conan’s form suddenly collapsed into death, Bridgit began to shed tears of relief. Aella snapped out of her shock to comfort her friend after the eye-opening news. As Urien didn’t seem to know what to do with himself and Samson was distracted blessing Conan’s corpse, Bryce thought he’d best see how the young King fared.

‘Urien?’ Bryce requested his attention as he neared.

The young man’s eyes were wide as they looked to Bryce. ‘Rhun be my brother-in-law!’ Strangely, he sounded devastated by the realisation.

‘Not so terrible.’ Bryce drove home his view with a slap on the shoulder.

‘I owe thee my life!’ Urien gripped his head, in a fluster. ‘This changes everything! As my kin I must warn ye.’ Urien shot Samson a sideways glance of determination and Samson smiled, apparently pleased by his resolve.

‘Warn us about what, Urien?’ Bryce confronted him to inquire. Urien may have been large, but Bryce was the trainer of all the Master warriors of Gwynedd, Powys and Dyfed, and so feared no one.

‘This war against Morcant the Bernician be a farce! A diversion Talorg, Elidyr, Riderich and others devised, for their mutual benefit, to prevent Rhun meeting his Pictish brother who be challenging Talorg’s throne at present.’

‘Rhun hast no Pictish brother!’ Blain wasn’t following any of this. ‘How could he have? Bar that Maelgwn wast unfaithful to his good queen?’

‘I am only telling thee what I myself wast told,’ Urien stated, urging Bryce to hear him out. ‘Talorg swears he thought Rhun was living a double life when first he wast confronted by Bridei. Talorg fears that if the High King wast to meet this mirror image of himself, he will surely side with him, for Bridei be the rightful ruler of the Picts, according to the traditional female royal line. The only thing Morcant and Caten have done to warrant this attack be to ally themselves to Talorg’s opposition.’

‘Morcant and Caten have not attacked Riderich?’ Bryce was stunned and needed confirmation.

Urien shook his head. ‘Not since Riderich reclaimed Clyde some time back and avenged his father’s death. The Bernicians and the Lothians have basically kept to themselves.’

‘Who else knows this?’ Bryce looked Urien in the eyes to have the truth out of him.

‘Elifler,’ Urien began and then hesitated.

‘Well, that goes without saying … who else?’ Bryce urged him to be out with it. ‘Conell?’

‘Nay.’ Urien pulled a reluctant face. He didn’t want to betray his friend, but if he didn’t then he betrayed his whole family. ‘Blain knows.’

‘My brother!’ As Bryce’s eyes opened wide with fury, Urien backed up a few paces.

‘Blain had won over so many members of the high council, that he never expected to have to challenge Rhun about any of this. Had Blain been named High King as planned, he would have supported Talorg and wiped Bridei off the face of the earth before Rhun ever knew he existed. But now Rhun be High King, the situation hast worsened and this counter-plot hast come into play. I should be on my way to Arwystli right now, to learn the strategy and receive my orders.’

‘So thee and Blain art willing to betray us, the Goddess and our people?’ Bryce calmed as his anger turned to sorrow and disappointment.

This comment grabbed the ladies’ attention and Aella and Bridgit approached to hear the rest of Urien’s confession.

‘Hey,’ Urien defended. ‘I voted for Rhun for High King, not Blain. Someone Blain trusts had to keep an eye on his movements.’

‘So when wast thou of the mind to tell us?’ Bryce closed the gap begin Urien and himself, backing the young ruler up to a wall.

‘As soon as he became a threat,’ Urien vowed, rationally.

‘Thou dost owe thy existence to the Goddess, Urien.’ Bryce gripped hold of the taller man’s face with both hands to stare into his eyes and drive home his message. ‘Her minions aided me to save thy mother from certain death and this much I promise thee … she who created thee can destroy thee just as easily. Cross the sacred mother and her minions shall show thee a death that be second to none!’ Bryce let go of him and stormed away to regain his composure. ‘This explains thy wanting to relocate in a hurry,’ Bryce commented on his way past Samson. ‘Who wants to live on an Isle that be embroiled in civil war!’ he declared ahead of slamming the door closed in his wake.

Urien had rarely heard Bryce speak of his beliefs with such conviction, but it was still difficult to believe some of the tales the Britons told about the Goddess. In reality Bryce’s wrath scared Urien far more than any ancient Goddess’ did.

‘I think he took that rather well.’ Urien looked to Bridgit and Aella, who were both staring at him with spiteful expressions.

‘Thou hast a long way to go before thou art a brother of mine,’ Bridgit told him solemnly and as Urien approached to make an intimate apology, she departed the Great Hall.

Aella lingered longer to stare at the man who had been prepared to betray her husband and her family. ‘How can thee claim to subscribe to both of the faiths of thy people, when in truth, thou hast no faith in any form of higher spiritual order. Like thy father before thee, Urien of Gwent believes in and serves only himself.’ She turned and made briskly for the door, pausing briefly to have words with Samson. ‘My Lord Bishop, I would greatly appreciate it if thee would have that diseased monster removed from my home at once.’

‘I shall see to it.’ Samson rose and bowed to the lady of the house, whereby she departed from their midst.

‘Jesus, what a mess!’ Urien collapsed into a chair.

‘Do not drag the son of the Almighty into this situation,’ Samson scolded. ‘I am ashamed it took this long to reach this resolve. Loyalty to a friend cannot come before the greater concern of the people. The will of God —’

‘Please Samson, spare me the will of God,’ Urien held up a hand to silence him. ‘I need to consider our next move.’

22

Cloaking the Mirror

A few nights after Rhun made it back to Degannwy, Selwyn made an appearance to report on the Pictish ruler, Bridei.

‘What wast thy impression of him? Doth he truly look like me?’ Rhun prompted as he poured mead for them both by the fire in his private quarters.

‘Majesty, it be the most extraordinary thing.’ Selwyn accepted his goblet from the King. ‘But for the motif that decorates his skin, Bridei could be thee. He appears, talks and even reasons as thou dost.’

‘Did thee ask him if he hast any connection with Morcant the Bernician, or Caten of Lothian?’

‘I did,’ Selwyn replied, with a frown. ‘But according to Bridei he hast no dealings with either kingdom.’

‘Could he have been lying?’ Rhun posed, desperate to make sense of the silent revolution unfolding around him.

Selwyn shrugged, awkwardly. ‘’Tis always a possibility. But if my judgement were worth anything, I feel he was telling the truth, Highness.’

Rhun had begun to pace, sensing that the time he had available to work out the puzzle was not abundant. ‘How soon can I meet with Bridei?’

‘Eager to meet thee also, he hast suggested tomorrow night.’

Rhun gave a firm nod to accept. ‘Thou had best get back to Powys before anyone notices thee missing.’

‘Actually, Majesty,’ Selwyn hesitated to mention it, ‘Blain hast not been calling upon my advice as often as he used to. Both he and his queen, Javotte, have remained very distanced from me lately.’

‘Just since my appointment, or before that?’

‘Since about the time we learned that Vortipor had fallen ill.’ Selwyn clarified. ‘Blain fully expected to be appointed High King, and …’ he hesitated to say more, as he had no proof.

‘And what?’ Rhun was angered as he realised that Selwyn meant to imply treason. Yet, his own mistrust of Blain had forced him to vote against him for High King. He could not very well blame Selwyn for suggesting what he suspected might be the truth himself. ‘Forgive me, merlin.’ Rhun paused to take a deep breath, and turned to the crackling fire to calm his spirit. ‘Am I allowing childhood sentiment to sway my judgement by believing that Blain will not betray me?’

‘I do not for a moment think he would, Majesty,’ Selwyn said assuredly, before his voice turned cynical. ‘Not of his own will. My king may have been a little disappointed not to be named High King, but his queen, Javotte, wast furious. She makes a good show of sweetness and goodwill, but she hast a dark side … I have seen it. Javotte holds a lot of influence over Blain, and she be the one at the heart of his ambitions to rule.’

Deep down Rhun didn’t doubt Selwyn’s conclusion. Blain adored his Queen and would do anything to please her. ‘And what hast Taliesin to say about all this?’ Rhun asked out loud. ‘Doth he intend to stand by and watch while the alliance my parents strove so hard to form be split right through the centre?’

‘The High Merlin cannot interfere in such affairs, he can only observe and advise,’ Selwyn reminded the High King of a fact he well knew.

‘So where be his counsel?’ Rhun challenged, whereupon Selwyn held his arms wide.

‘I am afraid I am it, Majesty,’ he announced, knowing he was an inferior substitute. ‘Taliesin hast already served three generations of Kings. He must retire from public life in this era soon or risk everything he hast worked so hard to achieve. I am doing my very best to fill his shoes, although obviously that will prove humanly impossible.’

When Rhun realised he had insulted the Merlin’s capabilities, he climbed down off his pedestal to apologise. ‘I do appreciate thy efforts, Selwyn. I am sorry if I have offended thee.’

Selwyn nodded to accept the apology. ‘Thou hast greater concerns at present,’ he allowed, as he stood and bowed to return to his rightful place. ‘Seek Taliesin, by all means,’ Selwyn invited, ‘but he seems more concerned about the distant future than the present these days.’

Rhun nodded to agree with his view. ‘Taliesin lost interest in this age upon mother’s departure from us, and his attention seems to have followed her to her current abode. It makes me wonder why he even bothers to remain here?’

‘To oversee those of thy line who art Chosen, of course,’ Selwyn advised astutely, surprised by the comment. ‘Do not get so caught up in the little battles of this tiny instance in time and forget thy place in the greater scheme of things … Taliesin hast not.’

‘I understand.’ Rhun stood corrected and a little stunned. ‘Perhaps filling Taliesin’s shoes shall not prove so impossible,’ the High King conceded with a smile.

Selwyn smiled also and with a nod to accept the compliment, he vanished back to Powys.

Rhun sat stewing by the fire for some time after Selwyn’s departure, pondering whether Taliesin would be of any aid to him. To seek out the High Merlin in his otherworldly abode, Rhun would have to use his psychic teleportation skill, which Taliesin had expressly forbade him to use until such time as he had finished his rule in Gwynedd.

‘Goddamn it, Taliesin!’ Rhun threw another log on the fire, having decided against seeking the High Merlin. ‘What be the point of being superhuman if I am not permitted to utilise my skills?’ he queried in frustration.

‘An unnecessary risk, when the universe always provides.’

Rhun turned to find Taliesin seated in the chair that Selwyn had occupied earlier and he smiled broadly upon discovering him. ‘High Merlin … I feared thou wast going to leave me to ride out this nightmare alone.’ Rhun returned to his chair, opposite his visitor.

‘I intend to do exactly that,’ Taliesin advised, to Rhun’s great dismay. ‘But fear not, it hast already been foreseen that the threat to the peace will destroy itself.’

‘Foreseen by whom!’ Rhun demanded to know, refusing to rely on any obscure prophecy that the High Merlin had dug up.

‘Foreseen by thee, at thy trial with Gwyn ap Nudd.’ Taliesin abruptly put an end to Rhun’s reservations as he enlightened him.

‘Tell me what I saw, High Merlin,’ the High King half requested, half demanded.

But Taliesin shook his head. ‘To tell thee would be to turn an asset into a hindrance. Better that fate surprise thee than to exhaust thyself trying to prevent the inevitable … which be in the interest of the greater good.’

‘What?’ Rhun frowned to appeal. ‘I would never act contrary to our cause, Taliesin! Just tell me what I must do to prevent this conspiracy and I shall do it.’

Taliesin fixed the young ruler with a steady gaze. ‘In order to crush our opposition thee must kill a man.’

‘Name the corpse,’ Rhun challenged, ready to depart at once.

‘It wast thee who named thy adversary in this affair,’ Taliesin reminded him. ‘Thee cited Blain, King of Powys.’

Rhun stood, rigid with dread and fear. ‘Nay! I do not believe thee. I could no sooner kill Blain than my own son.’ He walked away some distance, as if to escape the lingering notion.

‘Then war it will be,’ Taliesin concluded, as if he didn’t mind either way.

‘I can stop this.’ Rhun paced about. ‘I shall go to Blain and offer the position of High King to him.’

‘And what will that achieve? The war will still be fought.’ Taliesin spied the mead and poured himself a glass. ‘Besides, thy crown will not go to him. The Tylwyth Teg have chosen to support thee.’

Rhun bowed his head, still determined to find a solution, for he was resolute that killing Blain was not an option. ‘What dost thou know about Bridei of the Picts?’ Rhun returned to his seat.

‘Descended from Cunedda via the royal female line of Alban, as thou wast from the royal male line of Gwynedd, Bridei be a present-life incarnation of thee.’

Rhun smiled in disbelief. ‘Hast mother nature messed up somehow?’

Taliesin stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. ‘’Tis a common enough occurrence. I have met several of my earthly incarnations … and indeed thy son, Cadwell, be the Chosen incarnation of his grandfather, Vortipor.’

The High King shied from believing this, but Taliesin nodded to assure him it was quite true. ‘I intend to meet with Bridei,’ Rhun informed, regaining his serious mood.

‘I know,’ said the Druid.

‘A sound decision then?’ Rhun raised both eyebrows to await his adviser’s verdict.

Taliesin smiled broadly. ‘It always pays to know thyself, Majesty.’

It may have been coming to the end of the cold season in Gwynedd, but the night air in Alban still had the chill of the dead of winter upon it. Rhun was glad he’d dressed warmly.

Selwyn had bought him to a moor lit only by the moonlight and a small campfire in the distance. There was no mist about and visibility was excellent.

‘Bridei awaits thee by the fire,’ Selwyn instructed, moving off in the opposite direction.

‘Art thou not coming with me?’ Rhun had expected an introduction.

‘Forgive me, Majesty, but I have other plans.’ The Merlin merrily bowed out of the proceedings and took off across country.

Rhun looked to the nearest rise in the direction his Merlin was headed to spy the unmistakable silhouette of the Druidess, Kaileah. The silhouette of the Merlin came to join hers and they embraced.

‘Thou art excused, Selwyn,’ uttered Rhun, with a grin of approval. ‘I know what I would rather be doing.’ As it was not his destiny to have a passionate affair in the moonlight this evening, Rhun gave a heavy sigh of regret and looked back to the distant fire. ‘I sure hope I like myself,’ he muttered warily, trudging off towards the light.

The figure by the campfire was seated with his back to Rhun. A long, dark fur robe hung around his body and even with the hood drawn back off his head, Rhun could see precious little of the man he was to meet. He circled around the site at a distance to approach from the front.

Bridei looked up slowly, having been aware of Rhun’s looming presence for some time, and upon viewing him the Pictish warlord rose dumbstruck.

For Rhun, it was like something from a dream, confronting Bridei — a vision of a forgotten primitive past. Quite apart from the fact that Bridei’s physical features mirrored Rhun’s own, the distinctive deep blue symbols intricately depicted upon the warlord’s skin, and his long braided hair, were familiar to Rhun on a deeper level. Bridei may have been ten years younger than the High King, but his build was, in fact, larger and more akin to that of Rhun’s father, Maelgwn.

‘Welcome, Rhun, High King of allied Briton,’ said Bridei to break the silence, although, clearly, he still could not believe his eyes.

‘Bridei, I presume.’ Rhun smiled warmly and eased the tension with a chuckle of amusement. ‘No wonder Talorg feared our meeting.’ He looked the warlord over, as if proudly admiring himself in the mirror.

Bridei smiled in return, finding the notion funny also. ‘My enemy be causing thee strife, I hear. Please,’ Bridei motioned Rhun to be seated by the fire with him, ‘tell me thy woes, and perhaps between us we can work out what Talorg hast planned.’

‘Another view would be most welcome,’ Rhun assured, producing a waterbag from beneath his cloak. ‘Grandfather’s mead,’ he advised. ‘Gwynedd’s finest.’

Bridei’s smile broadened. ‘Great minds think alike, my grandmother always said.’ Bridei pulled a drinking pouch from beneath his fur robe.

‘Cheers!’ they both said at once and then laughed at the synchronicity.

As dawn’s light threatened on the distant horizon, Selwyn and Kaileah returned to Bridei’s campfire, to find two very drunk and very chummy warlords. They were still seated, talking and drinking, although they were leaning against each other for stability.

Bridei noted the Merlin and the Druidess first. ‘Why Kaileah,’ he laughed, ‘thy feathers art all ruffled.’

Rhun burst into laughter at this and leaned forward, whereupon Bridei lost his support and fell to the ground. The High King found this so amusing that he keeled over and fell about on the ground with his new drinking companion.

‘And thou wast afraid they might not get along?’ Kaileah commented sideways to Selwyn as she folded her arms, slightly amused by the outcome of the important political meeting.

Selwyn raised his hands to his head. ‘This be no way to win a war.’ He made a move to raise his King off the ground. Kaileah followed to recover her Lord.

‘Have ye managed to reach any conclusions, Majesty?’ Selwyn queried, as he raised Rhun to a seated position.

‘Aye, we reached any conclusions,’ Rhun mumbled, not making too much sense in his drunken stupor.

‘We decided,’ Bridei sat upright with a bit of help from Kaileah, and leaned over Rhun to speak with Selwyn, ‘that we might allow thee to wed my sister … ’cause the Goddess knows she hast rejected all her other suitors.’

‘Thy sister?’ Selwyn wasn’t following. Couldn’t the man tell that it was the Druidess who had stolen his heart?

‘Come, Bridei.’ Kaileah placed his arm over her shoulder to raise him from the ground, and only then did Selwyn notice how informal they were with one another.

‘He means thee!’ Selwyn suddenly worked it out, standing to confront Kaileah about it. ‘Thou art a Princess?’ he squeaked, not too sure how he should react.

‘Shh!’ Bridei urged, one finger raised to his mouth. ‘’Tis a secret,’ he giggled.

Kaileah only stared back at Selwyn as if she were too scared to find out how he would react, which served to confirm the claim.

‘Her son shall be the next ruler of Alban,’ enlightened Bridei, whereby the Merlin turned pale.

‘I think thou hast said enough, Bridei,’ Kaileah scolded him quietly. ‘Allow me to get thee to thy horse.’

Rhun had staggered to a standing position and was now wobbling on his own two feet. ‘Farewell my friend, I shall visit thee again, present —’ he hiccupped ‘— ly.’

‘I look forward to seeing me again,’ Bridei waved, as Kaileah dragged him over to his mount.

‘Art thou still breathing, merlin.’ Rhun shuffled over to lean on Selwyn for support. ‘Thee sure can pick ’em.’ He hiccupped again.

The shock dissipated and Selwyn smiled, his gaze still fixed on his lover. ‘Excuse I, Majesty.’ He left Rhun to sway on his own two feet, and approached Kaileah to speak with her quietly. Their intimate mutterings ended in a kiss.

‘Aw!’ Rhun sighed loudly. ‘I do love a happy ending.’

‘Me too,’ Bridei yelled back, threatening to fall from his mount at any moment.

Due to their charges’ loutish behaviour, the lovers were forced to part and Kaileah joined her brother on horseback.

‘Be careful,’ Selwyn urged her, as he watched his Pictish Princess ride away.

The dawn light betrayed the large beaming smile on the Merlin’s face as he returned to Rhun. ‘The Goddess told me that my true love would be extraordinary and I did not believe her.’ He shook his head in confusion. ‘Well, shame on me!’ He let loose a loud ‘Yahoo!’, high on life. And Rhun, in his inebriated state, was compelled to join in.

When the High King awoke late the next afternoon, it seemed that his entire being was wreaking vengeance for his abuse — the tip of his crown all the way down to his toes pulsated with agonising bursts. It felt as though a boulder had been lodged in his brain, for he could not raise his weighty head off the bed. ‘So much for immortals not needing rest,’ Rhun mumbled to himself, pushing down to raise himself. ‘I can be cut in two and recover in the blink of an eye,’ he lifted himself a fraction and collapsed back onto the bed, flat on his face. ‘So why dost it take me a week to recover from a night of mead?’

‘Majesty?’

Rhun was upright and turned about in a second, the sudden drastic movement nearly making him ill.

‘No need for alarm, ’tis only I, Sir Gawain.’

Once the High King rubbed the sleep from his eyes, they came to focus on his friend. ‘Gawain.’ Rhun breathed a sigh of relief.

He and Gawain had often been mistaken for brothers when they were younger, although Gawain had always been a little taller and lankier. His hair was dark and straight, just like Rhun’s, but where Rhun’s eyes were near black, Gawain’s eyes were steely blue, as his mother’s had been. A little under a year older than Rhun, Gawain had yet to marry and was notorious with the ladies.

‘I would not have disturbed thee, but thy signature on the assignment of troops to Riderich cannot wait any longer,’ Gawain explained, noticing how perturbed and pale Rhun appeared. ‘Art thou feeling poorly?’

‘Self-inflicted,’ Rhun held up a hand to confess, struggling slowly off the bed still fully clothed.

Gawain found this amusing, as it was rare his King ever drank so much as to reach this sorry state. ‘Making the most of thy queen’s absence, Highness?’

Rhun attempted a nod, but refrained due to pain, and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I am a bad influence on myself,’ he admitted. He praised the Goddess that Bridgit had stayed in Dyfed, well away from all the strife of the north. ‘Send word to my queen in Dyfed and tell her to stay put until otherwise notified.’

Gawain laughed at this, thinking Rhun was making a joke about wanting to get drunk every night. ‘I think thee might make thyself very ill. Why not take a lover instead?’ Gawain suggested an alternative to drink. ‘Thee can have one of mine.’

It took Rhun a second to figure out the misunderstanding and he attempted a smile as he caught up with the conversation. ‘Believe me, Gawain. With my queen, the last thing I need be a lover.’

‘As I have said many times, thou art a fortunate man indeed,’ Gawain granted.

‘I am.’ The King managed a smile as he took a moment to dwell on his wife, and he realised how much he missed her. ‘I am serious about sending a messenger to Bridgit. Will thee see to it?’

‘Of course,’ Gawain became straight-faced. ‘Be there some concern for Gwynedd’s welfare?’

‘Perhaps,’ was all Rhun would say. ‘Who did we decide would deliver the troops to Riderich?’

‘Gareth, as he resides at Caernarvon,’ Gawain replied.

Rhun considered him the best choice, although it seemed a great shame that Gareth’s father, Sir Tiernan, was now too old for the assignment. Tiernan was an outstanding diplomat, a feared warrior and a patriot of Gwynedd without question. Gareth had all the same traits and talents as his well-famed father, but he’d never before had to handle a situation as precarious as the one Rhun was about to send him into. ‘All our Master warriors art to stay put … send some of our more adept and experienced soldiers.’

Gawain was shocked that the High King would go back on his word to the council. ‘But thee promised!’

‘No one shall ever know … and under no circumstances art these troops to go into battle for anyone, until I give the word,’ Rhun advised sternly, as he would not have his orders questioned by anyone, not even a blood brother.

Gawain frowned, having no wish to question Rhun, as he’d never had cause to before. ‘If there be trouble afoot, I pray thee allow me to assist.’

‘I will,’ Rhun assured him, assuming a more civil tone. ‘As soon as I establish all the facts.’ He held both hands to his eyes and pressed hard, hoping to relieve some of the tension there. ‘Sorry if I am a bit short this morning —’

‘Ah … evening, Majesty,’ Gawain corrected.

Rhun’s eyes shot open as he realised he’d lost a whole day. ‘Oh Goddess.’ He rose in a fluster. ‘Thou shalt have to excuse me. I have matters of my own to attend to.’

‘But when Gareth reports to Riderich, he should tell him what?’ Gawain still didn’t understand their objective.

‘Nothing!’ Rhun emphasised. ‘Let Riderich think that all be as I vowed.’

A very worried look came over Gawain’s face. ‘Oh Majesty, I do wish thee would let me in on the logic of such a move.’

Rhun crossed his arms and served his knight with an ambiguous look. ‘I am afraid thee shall just have to trust me.’

Gawain thought about it a moment and smiled, not meaning to offend his King. ‘I am just eager to be privy to the larger picture, Highness. I do trust thee.’

‘I know and greatly appreciate thy faith.’ Rhun led his knight to the door and, after seeing him out, bolted it behind him. With a quick whiff of himself, he decided a bath was in order and thus, clothes and all, he dived into the large stone bath in his quarters. As he’d not taken the time to add the large cauldron of boiling water that bubbled over the open fire at the bath’s head, the cold water therein was a rude but well-needed awakening for the High King.

‘Holy mother!’ he cried as he surfaced, trying to shake himself free of the cold, and stripping off the layers, he submerged himself again.

Around suppertime that evening, the folk down in Powys were rather surprised when Rhun rode into the courtyard at Arwystli, alone. None more so than Selwyn, who had left the High King in Gwynedd only that morning — fortunately, no one else at the court in Powys knew this.

Only the Merlin and his novice, Prince Cai, came out to greet the High King. The others of the household were all seated at dinner. ‘What an unexpected surprise, Highness.’ Selwyn ventured to stress the annoyance in his tone, for he knew Rhun had defied the High Merlin’s wishes in order to be here this evening.

‘Long time no see, merlin.’ Rhun vexed him as he dismounted. ‘My but thou art looking well. Springtime obviously agrees with thee.’ The High King turned his attention to Cai and he embraced him. ‘Little brother …’ he ruffled the younger man’s hair, who was now twenty-two years of age.

Appearance-wise, Cai was the odd brother out in his family. Bryce and Blain had their father’s dark locks, Owen had his mother’s auburn waves, but Cai was as fair as they come, with hair as fine and straight as Rhun’s. Family resemblance still held some sway however, in that Cai, like Bryce, had inherited Brockwell’s dimple on the chin, and all the lads had their father’s piercing blue eyes. None of the Brockwell brothers were very tall, but Cai was the only one who did not display his father’s warrior form. The young apprentice druid and Rhun had always been firm friends. Unlike Cai’s brothers, Rhun was also a scholar and a philosopher.

‘Majesty, I am so pleased thou art here.’ Cai’s face beamed with the sincerity he felt. ‘Will thee be staying long?’

‘Not even the duration of the night,’ Rhun was sorry to advise.

Cai was clearly disappointed, but he tried not to appear notably so. ‘Of course. Thy new appointment must be keeping thee well occupied.’

‘Thou hast no idea,’ Rhun confirmed, looking back to Selwyn, who still appeared annoyed with him. ‘I have come to see Blain.’

‘The king be at dinner, Highness and hast suggested thee join him.’ The Merlin motioned to the entrance of the house.

‘I am not here on a social visit.’ Rhun’s tone became more official. ‘I shall await Blain in the library. He can join me there at his leisure.’

Selwyn nodded in response to the command, although the expression on his face made it perfectly clear that this visit had him worried.

‘Fear not, merlin,’ Rhun uttered aside to him. ‘I have thought this mess through and I am pretty sure I have no idea what I am doing.’

‘When the right course of action be unclear, best not to act at all.’ The Merlin cautioned him against stirring up trouble as they had enough to deal with at present.

‘I have spoken with Taliesin.’ Rhun lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I am aware of the two sorry options that fate intends to deal me in this affair. Thus, I intend to take a page from mother’s book and see if I cannot create a better alternative to war or murder.’

‘By breaking sacred vows?’ Selwyn finally voiced his reason for being so perturbed with his King.

‘If needs be,’ Rhun emphasised, pointedly. ‘The only difference between fate and destiny be a conscious will. And my will, merlin, be second to none.’ The expression on Selwyn’s face implied Rhun had made his point, and they headed into the main house amicably.

‘Might I keep thee company until my king joins thee, Majesty?’ Cai ventured to offer, wary of the heavy underlying mood of the High King and his mentor.

Rhun threw an arm over his friend’s shoulder and his good mood returned. ‘That would make my year, Cai.’

Inspired by the death of Conan, Bryce accompanied Urien to his meeting with Blain in the disguise of a rotting man.

Bryce hadn’t realised how uncomfortable it would be having his head and hands entirely wrapped in bandages. The women had made the dressings smell of rotting food to ensure they looked and smelt as if soiled from festering sores. Bryce was glad to finally arrive at Arwystli to get on with this charade and have it over with.

Blain met Urien on the inner bailey stairs. ‘Bad timing,’ he advised, discreetly. ‘His Majesty hast popped in for a surprise visit and he might get suspicious if he discovers thou art here in Powys.’ Amid Urien’s guards, Blain caught sight of his ally’s decrepit travelling companion. ‘What in the Otherworld hast thou brought into my house, Urien? I think this good Samaritan rubbish hast gone far enough.’

‘Fear not. Sir Eldred’s ailments are not contagious. Although the poor fellow be slowly rotting on the outside, his mind hast not suffered any.’

Blain fixed Urien with a very perturbed expression. ‘This makes me very nervous.’

‘He will not cause thee any grief, I swear,’ Urien made light of Blain’s concerns. ‘Just stick him in my room with a pitcher of mead and thee will not even be aware of his presence.’

‘Dost he serve some purpose?’ Blain looked down his nose at the hunched-over cripple whom he approached, of the mind to get a look at his face.

‘Oh, aye. He wast once a trusted advisor of my grandfather’s.’ If Urien was concerned about their deception in any way, it certainly didn’t show — not even when Blain’s attention was turned from him.

For the first time Bryce could appreciate just how good Urien was at playing both sides of the fence. This talent probably stemmed from being trained since birth to devote himself earnestly to the two completely contradictory religions in his kingdom — dividing his loyalties came easy to this young King. Still, Urien had never had family before and Bryce was hoping this was enough to keep him loyal to the High King’s cause.

‘Thou hast never mentioned this Sir Eldred before?’ Blain raised the hood of the curious stranger’s robe to expose the filthy bandages and, getting a whiff of their odour in the process, he desisted from further investigation. ‘Aw.’ He screwed up his nose in disgust. ‘Thee ought it give it a bath.’

‘We would,’ Urien concurred with a grin, ‘but we art afraid of losing half of him in the process.’ He fell in beside Blain to accompany him into the house.

Blain grinned, mildly amused by Urien’s jest. ‘Well, I need thee both out of sight until his Royal Highness departs.’

Rhun be here! The realisation echoed through Bryce’s mind, setting his heartbeat racing as he hobbled up the few stairs after Urien and his brother. I must get word to him of what I know.

‘Why did thee not send word of thy visit, Highness?’ Blain entered the library to find Rhun by the fire having a close conversation with his youngest brother. ‘Had I been more prepared, I would have met thee myself.’ Blain bowed to Rhun as was now his due.

‘It wast rude of me.’ Rhun stood to shake hands with Blain, to find that his friend’s right hand was bandaged from the tips of his fingers all the way up his wrist. This prevented Rhun from making skin contact and reading his thoughts, but whether Blain had become conscious of that fact, Rhun couldn’t say for sure.

Blain noticed Rhun’s perturbed expression as he viewed the dressing and so explained his reluctance to shake hands. ‘I injured myself … I have to keep it bound tight until it stops aching. Nothing serious,’ he opened and closed his hand carefully, then shrugged it off. ‘Damn annoying, though.’

Rhun nodded, as if believing his tale, and glancing at Cai he noticed the curious look on his face. He could only assume Blain’s injury was so recent that Cai had yet to see it, but the young Druid was not about to query his King in the company of another.

‘Until next we meet, Majesty.’ Cai took his leave of them, bowing to Rhun and then his King on his way out.

‘Hast thou got a date, little brother?’ Blain said in jest, observing how Cai was departing with more speed and purpose than usual.

‘Nay,’ Cai defended, a bit too quickly. ‘I am sure thee have much to discuss,’ he explained as an afterthought, ‘and so shall leave ye to it.’ Cai turned and left.

‘So, to what do I owe this visit?’ Blain moved to the lounge to be seated, but waited until the High King had done so first. ‘I thought thee would be in Gwynedd deploying troops for the war in the north.’

Rhun looked Blain in the eye to gauge his reaction. ‘I fear there may be more to Riderich’s war than I am being told.’

Blain’s gaze did not falter. ‘I know Riderich, Elidyr and Elifler would have pursued this war with or without High Council support. Thus it wast wise of thee to aid them,’ Blain granted, ‘as a denial would surely have divided the Council and probably destroyed it.’ As Rhun was frowning, Blain decided he’d better pour some mead.

‘It wast clear from the ballot for High King that the council already be divided.’ Rhun raised the subject he feared was at the heart of the matter, as he accepted a goblet from his host.

‘But the Gods tipped the ballot thy way and we, as mere mortals, have no right to question the Otherworld’s decision,’ Blain said surely.

To Rhun this seemed a strange resolve coming from one who was making a mockery of Taliesin’s otherworldly warning recently. ‘But the kingdoms of the north do not adhere to the word of the Goddess as we do,’ he said, pretending not to have seen Blain’s open display of contempt on the day of the council ballot. ‘I fear the wrath of Gwyn ap Nudd will not be enough to keep them allied to us should fate tempt them to a contrary path.’

‘But why should they contemplate treason, when thou hast given them thy support,’ Blain reasoned with a frown. ‘I do not understand thy grounds for concern?’

With a heavy sigh, Rhun raised himself from his seat and approached the fire. ‘Call it a premonition.’ As Rhun looked back to Blain, his friend’s expression had turned sour.

‘Not one of thy visions, Rhun, please!’ he whined. ‘Saving us from being caught seducing the house staff when we were lads be one thing … but we art men now, this be war!’ he appealed.

‘Hey,’ Rhun challenged. ‘Wast I ever wrong?’

Blain thought hard to recall an instance. ‘Nay,’ he conceded finally and bowing his head a moment, he resolved to ask the burning question. ‘Alright.’ He raised his sights to hear Rhun out. ‘Tell me what thy vision foretold?’

Rhun raised both eyebrows. How should he phrase this? ‘It foretold of the division of the Goddess’ council.’

Blain rolled his eyes to imply Rhun was just a little paranoid in his new position.

‘It wast also prophesied that thy life depended on me preventing this division.’ Rhun regained Blain’s full attention with the claim.

‘My life?’ He stood, having just conceded that Rhun was never wrong in his truthsaying.

‘Aye,’ Rhun confirmed, with a deadly serious expression.

Blain approached Rhun, compelled by his own morbid curiosity. ‘Did the vision foretell how I would die?’

‘Murder.’ Rhun answered in a word.

‘And did thy vision disclose the identity of my slayer?’ Blain cocked an eye to question.

Rhun nodded his head slowly, heightening the suspense. ‘’Twas I.’

‘Thee!’ Blain backed up, the unexpected response throwing him into a momentary state of panic. ‘But why should thee want to kill me?’

‘I wast hoping thee might shed some light on that puzzle,’ Rhun explained calmly, holding wide his cloak, so that Blain could see he was unarmed.

His friend relaxed at this point, but Blain’s initial response seemed to indicate that he might have just cause to fear the threat. Had Rhun put the same notion forward to Bryce, Rhun felt sure his old friend would have laughed in his face.

‘Goddess, I hate thy spooky moods.’ Blain began to laugh as he ventured to approach his friend once more. ‘I shall never give thee just cause to take my life,’ he announced sincerely. ‘And therefore thy concerns art a complete farce. It seems clear to me that thy vision wast nothing more than a nightmare.’

Rhun smiled as if reassured, even though he was not.

The prophecy was real. And as much as Rhun hated to admit it, Blain was hiding something from him that even a threat to his life was not incentive enough to expose. Was it just the knowledge of Bridei’s existence, or did the plot go deeper than that?

Blain saw the High King to his mount and waited to see him depart through the portcullis — Rhun’s guess was that he wanted to make certain he’d left.

Beyond the outer bailey gatehouse that led onto the main road through the village, Rhun turned his horse off the trail and headed around the stronghold.

Once he was well away from the main guard post, Rhun pulled his horse to a stop and looked about for voyeurs. In the night shadows cast by the huge walls of the fortress, he felt fairly sure he could teleport himself back to Gwynedd without risk of being seen. The King closed his eyes to think of home.

‘Majesty!’

Cai’s urgent call near startled the wits out of Rhun, who ceased his directive and looked about for his young friend.

‘Praise the Goddess, I caught thee,’ the young Druid puffed and panted as he delivered a scrolled parchment into his High King’s hands.

‘What on earth —’

‘Read it!’ Cai cut him short with an urgent whisper, then ran back into the shadows from whence he came. ‘Thy concerns art justified, Majesty. Please beware.’

Rhun was left speechless, thinking the short encounter bizarre. Cai was usually shy and reserved; this behaviour was completely out of character for him.

As Rhun could not hope to see the note in the prevailing darkness, he willed himself to the stables at Degannwy where he could dispense with his horse and read the mysterious missive.

23

Walls

When Cai returned to Urien’s assigned quarters at Arwystli, panting and trembling from the risk he’d just taken and the speed of his passage, Bryce was alone.

‘Did thee get it to him?’ Bryce blundered forth to mumble through his disguise at his brother.

Cai nodded to set his brother’s mind at rest. ‘Hast Urien gone to speak with Blain?’

‘Aye,’ Bryce confirmed, wary of the arrangement. ‘I am praying to the Goddess that he doth not betray us.’

‘Not Urien too!’ Cai had had trouble conceiving that Blain would betray the High King. ‘Surely there be no question of Gwent’s loyalty.’

‘There was,’ Bryce assured him. ‘I am just hoping the threat remains in the past.’

Cai appeared as if suddenly struck by a revelation. ‘Hast Blain taken Urien to the library?’

Bryce nodded. ‘Blain’s squire announced as much when he came to collect Urien, why?’

‘Then we art in luck.’ Cai walked up to a protruding section of the wall, which took the form of a large feature support. ‘I think the Goddess would forgive us if we were to rely on the truth rather than hope in this instance.’

You could have pushed Bryce over with a feather when Cai nudged the large floor to ceiling section of the wall and it slid aside to reveal a hidden passageway.

‘I never knew there were secret passages here at Arwystli!’ Bryce exclaimed as he wandered towards the opening. The Prince had lived in the stronghold for twenty years and had never even suspected.

‘Nobody knows, but me,’ Cai grinned. ‘When I made the discovery, I did all within my power to keep the secret … it was the only place I could get any peace from my three boisterous brothers.’

‘What doth thou mean, boisterous?’ Bryce bounded over to slap Cai about the head and shoulders in a playful manner before gripping his shoulder, thankful for his aid. ‘Lead the way,’ Bryce invited in a cheery voice.

‘I am not too sure I should,’ said Cai, holding his nose, ‘as I fear thy smell might give us away.’

‘Just lead.’ Bryce shoved him into the passage.

The letter from Bryce outlined the events that had unfolded in Dyfed since Rhun’s departure. It advised how Urien had been enlightened as to the existence of his kindred, which had in turn prompted a confession from him. Bryce explained that Riderich had no cause to fight the Bernician, Morcant, as he and his neighbour, Caten, had not broken the peace. Urien had also enlightened Bryce to Bridei’s existence, and claimed the war was purely to chastise those nations for siding with the true heir to Talorg’s throne in Alban.

This missive made the plot all the more perplexing for Rhun, as Bridei had sworn he had no dealings with Morcant or Caten. What if the heir apparent to the Pictish throne was the one planning a war. Then Riderich’s story to the council could all be the truth? Bridei’s sister, Kaileah, had done a fine job of seducing Selwyn into believing in their cause, so perhaps the Merlin could not see treachery as readily as he otherwise would have? On the other hand, Urien had confessed that Morcant and Caten had not been hostile towards the allied states — but that didn’t mean that they weren’t planning to be. In which case, Riderich might have fair justification for being a bit premature with his attack.

‘Dear Goddess!’ Rhun cried out in frustration. ‘I am at a loss to see the side of the righteous in this affair. Which side lies?’ Rhun queried out loud, having made it to the privacy and quiet of his chambers. ‘Perhaps both?’ He considered this likely. ‘So with whom do I side?’

His thoughts turned to what Taliesin had revealed of his own prophecy — that Blain was at the heart of the matter. Still, from what Rhun could tell at this point, his friend in Powys was the least of his problems, whether he was lying to him or not.

Rhun looked to the note in his hand. ‘Time to pay Bridei a surprise visit.’ Rhun closed his eyes and concentrated on his contemporary counterpart.

The High King found himself in a large tent that was warmed by an open fire situated under a central opening in the roof. The sound of several women giggling immediately drew his attention to a large bed. The many fur layers that comprised the sleeping arrangement appeared to be a hive of activity.

Rhun wasn’t quite sure on the protocol to use when interrupting a fellow ruler and past-life incarnation from an orgy. After all, he didn’t want to spoil this experience for himself or offend his new ally. Fortunately, he was put out of his dilemma when one of the occupants of the bed surfaced for air.

Tossing her fur covering backwards a beautiful dark-haired woman knelt completely naked before him. ‘My Lord?’ she queried, stunned by Rhun’s resemblance to her lover, but by no means embarrassed by her predicament. ‘Thou art not my Lord?’ She smiled, admiring the more sophisticated version of him, as she reached back to alert Bridei that he had company.

‘Who art thou talking to?’ Bridei stuck his head out the end of a large fur. The warrior rolled on his belly to see where his mistress was pointing. ‘Splendid,’ he announced warmly upon sighting Rhun. ‘Majesty, thou art just in time … come join us,’ Bridei invited, as three other females emerged from the fur bed to beckon him hither.

Rhun may have been here on the gravest of business, but be buggered if he could remember what it was, nor could he wipe the smile from his face. ‘Nay, I cannot.’ He captured a picture of his lovely wife in his mind and held it there as an incentive to behave himself. Ten years ago Rhun wouldn’t have hesitated to dive right in, but since marrying Bridgit, the idea of an extra-marital affair was just too much trouble. Rhun might have been good at twisting the truth, but lying to those he loved was something he never wished to do.

Bridei must have heard the slightly regretful strain in Rhun’s voice. ‘Convince him ladies,’ the warrior urged, whereby all four of the naked women rose from their coverings and converged on Rhun.

‘Aw, please,’ he appealed, not meaning to feast his eyes, but it was kind of unavoidable. ‘I have a problem,’ he tried to reason with the women.

‘Aye, thou hast!’ Bridei laughed, as the women encircled the High King, caressing him with kisses and their bodies.

The bliss of the moment near consumed Rhun, but he savoured it for what it was to be — a non-event. ‘The fate of our entire island lays in the balance, and I am being lied at from all sides.’

As the object of their desire fixed his sights on Bridei, the women all ceased their activity and looked to their Lord.

‘Not from this side.’ Bridei threw back his covers and stood naked before Rhun to insist.

As the women around him all broke into laughter, so did Rhun have to smile; if Bridei’s sincerity was fake he was a masterful deceiver. The Pictish Prince seemed more likely to be planning a picnic than a battle. ‘Art thou going to wage war against Talorg?’ the High King asked him straight.

‘Eventually,’ he admitted, as if he had been a bit slack on that front.

‘Hast thou allied thyself to Morcant the Bernician, or Caten of Lothian in order to do this?’

‘Nay!’ he insisted, annoyed to be asked again. ‘I told thee, I do not know either king.’ Bridei motioned the women to go plant themselves by the fire.

‘Then why art four of the allied kingdoms declaring war on Morcant and Caten for allying themselves to thee?’ Rhun slapped the piece of paper he held into Bridei’s hand.

Bridei frowned and screwed up the document without bothering to read it. ‘Their support be news to me.’ Bridei looked Rhun square in the eye as he tossed the letter to the flame. ‘Perhaps I should go out of my way to get acquainted with these supposed allies of mine.’ The warlord seemed quite irate, as he finally took a moment to find his trousers. ‘Perhaps then we shall get to the bottom of all these lies about me!’

Rhun could not will himself to a meeting with Morcant and Caten, because he was unfamiliar with their appearance and the terrain of their territory. But if someone he was familiar with sought them out, like Bridei, Rhun could simply will himself to him. Bridei knew Selwyn had the ability to teleport himself and others from place to place, and that was acceptable to the warlord. Selwyn was a druid of whom such wonders were expected. But if a king were to be discovered to have such a talent, that would be something to be feared. Rhun had to make sure that Bridei continued to believe that it was the Merlin who transported him from place to place.

‘I would keep an army close by.’ Rhun let Bridei know that he thought his idea to seek out Morcant and Caten a good one. ‘Anyone entering the said territories shall more than likely have to fight their way out again.’

Bridei, now mostly clothed, approached Rhun appearing a little puzzled. ‘So, let me see if I have this straight … Talorg shall be at this battle fighting for thee, against me. And now thou art advising I take an army to the aid of thy enemy … just whose side art thou on?’ Bridei frowned and held his palms up in question.

‘These kingdoms may not be our enemies, but they certainly will be if I sanction this war against them without just cause.’ Rhun began to formulate a plan of action. ‘I shall march a peacekeeping force from Gwynedd to the Wall and prevent this conflict unfolding before the truth of the cause comes to light. Anyone who wishes to oppose me before that time, let them come forth and challenge me and my army of Master warriors.’

‘But thee may lose the support of thy existing allies?’ Bridei considered it rather extraordinary that a ruler would risk so much for the kingdoms of strangers.

‘More than half my allies art loyal to me, or I would not be High King. And I would rather be allied to truthful strangers, than treacherous kindred. The innocent in this affair art my allies, for that be the will of the Goddess,’ Rhun vowed and Bridei gave a firm nod to agree with his reasoning.

‘What if the truth and the lies art so intertwined that neither side be worth supporting?’ This was what Bridei feared was the case. ‘Then it will be thee and me versus the rest of the Island!’

‘And know who would win?’ Rhun spun the rhetorical question. ‘We would,’ he stated, surely, ‘because we have the Otherworld on our side.’

‘Damn right, we do!’ Bridei grabbed the High King’s wrist to shake on it.

As Bridei grasped his bare skin, Rhun could feel the excitement and goodwill radiating from him. At least he could eliminate one person from the long list of possible deceivers.

‘Such a show of force in the north will leave thy own kingdom exposed and under-guarded.’ Bridei let go of Rhun, completely unaware that he had just won the trust of the High King for life. He clapped his hands to get some food and mead organised, whereupon all four women snapped from their captivated reverie to go about his bidding.

‘All the rulers in a position to invade Gwynedd art already involved in this dispute. Their forces art badly strained and will be concentrated on the battle to the east,’ explained Rhun, as he took a seat on the ground by the fire next to his new ally.

Bridei grinned as he considered their scheme and passed a goblet to Rhun. One of his lovely ladies, now clothed, poured them mead from a jug. ‘This attempt to keep the peace may very well end in a bloodbath.’

‘’Tis headed that way at present. If a hostile enemy takes the Wall, our trade route through the north will be lost and the allied states cut off from one another. Still, as it seems they art already divided in mind and spirit, it seems only logical that the body of our island will follow,’ he mumbled, giving a shrug as his eyes gazed vacantly in the firelight.

‘Otherworldly quests art never thwarted!’ Bridei slapped Rhun’s knee in the hope of perking up his spirits a bit. ‘To the peace keepers.’ He held high his goblet to toast.

Rhun looked back to the primitive likeness of himself, forced to smile at the reckless abandon reflected in his words. ‘To peace.’

Their goblets clunked and the leaders drank, leaving their fate and that of their kingdoms in the hands of the Goddess.

Behind the library wall at Arwystli, Cai and Bryce huddled near a wide crack in the stonework, straining to hear what the King of Powys and the King of Gwent were planning.

Blain’s queen, Javotte, had also joined the conference and was doing her best to calm her husband — something Rhun said had spooked the King of Powys into a bit of a state.

‘Whatever we stand to gain, ’tis not enough. I want out!’ Blain stressed.

‘Blain, my love.’ Javotte was using her calm, reasoning tone. ‘How am I to advise thee, if thou will not disclose what the High King said to distress thee so?’

‘He hast seen my death,’ Blain shot back at her and all went quiet for a moment.

‘A clever trick,’ Javotte decided, ‘to keep thee in line. Rhun knows none of us will doubt one of his prophecies. He toys with thee as he always hast, but he will not win this time.’

She had a real way with words, Javotte. Bryce considered she was far too manipulative for her own good.

‘Nay, thou art wrong,’ Blain defended his resolve. ‘Somehow Rhun knows what shall befall.’

‘My sweet, I am never wrong,’ Javotte reminded him. ‘Still, thee may be right in regard to how much the High King knows … if my instinct serves me correctly, I would say the leak may well lie with thy druid. Selwyn hast always been more partial to Gwynedd and hast been absent a lot of late?’ She paused, and the silence meant Javotte had got Blain thinking. ‘If thou hast any sense, which I know thou hast,’ she flattered him sweetly, before going in for the kill, ‘I would banish the merlin back to the land he loves so well, and his novice along with him!’

Cai gasped at the suggestion, but Bryce was quick enough to clap a hand over his brother’s mouth and muffle the sound.

‘That novice be my baby brother and Arwystli be his home as well as mine!’ Blain insisted, surprised that she would even suggest such a thing. ‘I shall not tell my ailing mother that I have banished one of her sons from my kingdom.’

‘This be war!’ Javotte became rather adamant. ‘Thou dost not run the risk of betrayal on the eve of launching a major invasion.’ She lectured with as much conviction as any war counsellor. ‘End of story.’

‘What major invasion? The north?’ whispered Cai into his brother’s ear, but Bryce only shrugged and motioned with his hand for him to be silent.

‘Elidyr’s troops will already be assembled, if not on the move,’ Javotte added. ‘Thee cannot back out, save by making every kingdom our enemy. The only way to keep Rhun out of this dispute now be to wipe him from the playing field altogether.’

Bryce and Cai looked to each other, both realising that Blain and Elidyr meant to invade Gwynedd.

‘Easier said than done.’ Urien’s first comment for sometime was rather snide. ‘And no one said anything to me about attacking Gwynedd.’

‘Our warriors art just as masterful as Rhun’s,’ Javotte challenged.

‘Good,’ Urien concurred, ‘because if thou dost not destroy Rhun, he will kill thee.’

Urien words succeeded in compounding Blain’s fear, judging from Javotte’s reaction.

‘Whose side art thou on, Urien?’ the Queen challenged him. ‘I wast under the impression thee wanted my husband for High King.’

‘If only it were so,’ said Urien, winningly.

‘Then let us do all we can to remedy the situation,’ Javotte advised, obviously finding Urien’s charm annoying.

‘My good woman,’ Urien began in the politest of tones, ‘if thy husband means anything to thee, ask thyself if the position of High Queen be worth the risk of his life?’

Good man, thought Bryce; if anyone could defuse this situation it was Urien.

‘I cannot believe it!’ Javotte exclaimed. ‘He hast done it again. Rhun needs no armies to keep thee under thumb — simple mind games will do. This war hast already begun and unless our kingdoms art to be targets thee both had better hunt up some spine.’

The sound of a door slamming signaled Javotte’s departure.

‘Now,’ announced Urien, sounding relieved. ‘May I ask how the hell Gwynedd got involved in this?’

‘Most of the northern kingdoms will not stay in the allied council under Rhun’s leadership. Elidyr hast been looking for an excuse to add the kingdom of Gwynedd to Reged since his grandfather’s death. I wast tempted to support him after my defeat in the election, but no amount of power could fill the hole Rhun’s death would leave in my life … when Javotte calms down she will see that too. I will support Riderich and Talorg in their causes, but I will send word to Elidyr withdrawing my support of his intent. I will advise he abort the invasion of Gwynedd, or risk the wrath of the entire council.’

Bryce breathed a sign of relief, as did Cai.

‘Allow me to deliver the missive for thee,’ Urien offered.

Brilliant! Bryce cheered on the quiet.

‘I do have messengers for such errands,’ Blain advised.

‘Truth be known … I never did like Elidyr very much and would so enjoy delivering such tidings. Please, may I?’ Urien begged in a childlike fashion.

Blain was thoughtful a moment. ‘Sure. I would be much obliged to thee.’

The two leaders sat down and penned Blain’s withdrawal from the invasion of Gwynedd. Urien left immediately, accompanied by a few guards, to deliver the important communication into the hands of Elidyr of Reged.

The rest of Urien’s men left in the company of the rotting Sir Eldred, alias Prince Bryce. Bryce sent Urien’s guard back to Gwent to take what forces could be spared to Caernarvon in Gwynedd. The Protector himself was headed back to round up Dyfed’s Master warriors for the High King’s cause. If Urien succeeded in convincing Elidyr to back down, well and good, but if Urien failed, a formidable force would be awaiting to repel the King of Reged at Caernarvon.

Of course, Bryce was taking into account the forces Rhun already had protecting his nation, unaware that the High King was about to march a major part of his force north to the wall.

When Bryce finally made it back to Dyfed a little under a week later, he found his wife, Aella, in a panic.

Bridgit had received a message from Rhun, ordering her to stay in Dyfed until otherwise notified. But knowing the order meant Rhun was in trouble, Bridgit had defied her husband’s wishes and returned home.

‘Please do not tell me that she shall be anywhere near Caernarvon.’ Bryce knew he was asking too much.

‘She will hardly ride over the Snowdon to Degannwy,’ Aella emphasised. ‘Of course she shall go via the coast.’

Bridgit had been wise enough to leave Cadwell in Dyfed, but her departure meant there was even greater cause to make haste to Gwynedd’s defence. Every warrior in Dyfed with a horse would ride with Bryce and the foot soldiers would have to meet them at Caernarvon as soon as humanly possible. He dispatched a courier ahead to Caernarvon advising Sir Gareth, the presiding Lord, of the looming risk of attack.

The first week of Rhun’s march saw his force beyond Gwynedd’s borders and into the shadow of the Pennie Mountains. Large carts were employed to haul food stores for his fighting force, as Rhun intended to avoid all the major cities on their journey — especially York and Carlisle.

There was an old Roman fort on the Wall at Birdoswald in front of which wound the River Irthing through a crooked glen. Rhun expected Bridei’s force to be awaiting him there, having made their way over the Forth and down between the kingdoms of Clyde and Lothian. Bridei had assured Rhun that he could shift a major force through this area without causing a political incident, as his rebels were very masterful at negotiating tough terrain and they often travelled at night to hide their number.

Rhun knew his own march would not go undetected. Word would reach Elidyr, Riderich and Elifler soon, and he hoped his allies would assume he was bringing his force directly to their aid.

The weather turned sour for this leg of their passage, but Rhun’s soldiers remained in good spirits despite the teeming rain; they knew they were taking part in an unprecedented event. For never before had a native king marched an army such a distance to keep the peace.

As the days rolled by, the wet weather persisted, but it only served to make Gwynedd’s force all the more determined to reach their destination. Even those among the High King’s army who were not professional soldiers, and had joined the force during the march through Gwynedd, showed no sign of turning back. This surprised Rhun, as a king who could rally a body of free men and keep them under arms in a distant kingdom was almost unheard of. Although their march had only spanned a few weeks, this was further afoot from home than any of these men had ever intended to roam — including the Master warriors. Their function was to protect Gwynedd and her interests — few had imagined that her interests would spread so far afoot.

The night before Rhun’s expected arrival at the Wall, the High King wandered away from camp intending to will himself to Bridei. Thankfully, the rain had eased to a drizzle this morning and seemed to have finally stopped altogether.

He had hoped that Selwyn would have shown himself by now, as he needed an alibi for his ethereal passage. Last time Rhun willed himself to Bridei the warlord had, fortunately, been distracted, but if he didn’t spy Selwyn sooner or later, the Pictish warlord was bound to get suspicious. Rhun had thought about willing himself to Selwyn several times, but as he could not be sure he would find the Merlin alone, the notion was a high risk — as was this stunt he was about to pull.

‘Well, I need to know Bridei’s location,’ Rhun justified quietly to himself. ‘And as both of my merlins see fit to leave me to my own devices during this time of crisis, they give me little choice.’

Fortune again favoured Rhun’s decision when he joined Bridei in the night shadows beyond the ruins of the Roman fort where the Pictish force were camped. The warlord had wandered off to have a pee. A moment sooner, or later, Rhun would have manifested beside him in the middle of the campsite.

‘Boo!’ Rhun surprised his lookalike and laughed as Bridei spun around, trying to take a leak with one hand and draw his sword with the other.

‘Damn it all!’ He let his sword drop back into its scabbard and having finished his business, he indignantly put his equipment away.

‘It seems every time I see thee thy family jewels art on display.’ Rhun continued to chuckle away to himself.

‘Sorry, Majesty,’ said Bridei smugly, ‘but I think I accidentally sprayed thy trousers.’

‘What!’ Rhun quickly brushed himself over in search of wet bits, until Bridei began to chuckle.

‘Come on, Princess,’ the warlord jeered, motioning Rhun to accompany him back to camp. ‘What took thee so long, anyway?’

After they chased up some food and drink and found a quiet, out of the way place to talk, Rhun explained that his army were still a day or two’s march away and Bridei appeared puzzled.

‘Then how did thee get here ahead of them? Thy merlin?’ Bridei presumed, looking around to see if Selwyn stood in wait anywhere about.

‘Aye,’ Rhun acknowledged, keenly, ‘but he had other matters to attend.’

‘So all goes well with him?’ Bridei seemed, for some reason, perplexed.

‘Aye,’ Rhun responded less surely, for in truth he hadn’t seen the Merlin in weeks. ‘Why dost thou ask?’

Bridei shrugged as though it was really none of his business. ‘My sister fears he hast gone cold on her. She hast not seen him for half the phase of the moon.’

As it was Kaileah that Rhun had presumed to be keeping his Merlin so well occupied, her concerns were most alarming.

‘I shall investigate,’ Rhun assured, unable to think of any other response that wouldn’t blow his cover.

‘So he hast not mentioned her at all?’ Bridei seemed a little awkward about pursuing the issue.

Rhun felt like a complete heel as he simply shook his head and changed the subject. ‘So, thou hast had words with Kaileah. What art Talorg and Riderich up to?’

‘Well …’ Bridei was dissatisfied by the lack of feedback on the Merlin. Still, he gave up on the topic and moved on. ‘She discovered Talorg hast lied to Riderich about my alliance with Morcant and Caten, so as to give Riderich and himself a common cause that appeared more Clyde’s problem than Alban’s in the council. After aiding Clyde to victory, Talorg planned to persuade Riderich to aid him in destroying me before thee ever became aware of my existence. It probably would have worked had Kaileah not seen thee and …’ Bridei shrugged unsure of how to describe his affiliation to Rhun, ‘made the connection.’

Rhun nodded, his thoughts dwelling on the Pictish Princess. ‘How long hast thy sister been spying on Talorg for thee?’

‘We did not know we were kindred until a few years ago,’ Bridei explained. ‘We were never made aware of each other’s existence. My great-grandmother, thy great-grandmother’s sister, foresaw all that be unfolding now and of how much aid Kaileah would be to me if no one knew we were kindred. By the time I wast born, my sister had already taken to the wandering life of a druidess, under the guidance of an elder, and so was none the wiser of my birth. Although it wast always known by my people that an heir existed, I wast raised by common folk and hidden from those who would have killed for the inheritance due me.’

‘Like Talorg,’ stated Rhun, and Bridei nodded surely. ‘But how did thee and Kaileah find out about each other?’ As soon as he’d asked, Rhun figured out the answer.

‘Gwyn ap Nudd,’ both men responded, smiling as they realised they were both privy to the same otherworldly connections.

‘In any case, Kaileah wast already druidess to Talorg when Gwyn ap Nudd led her to me … and our secret hast worked very much in our favour, just as my wise old great-grandmother predicted.’

Rhun grinned at the warlord’s words, but his mind was elsewhere. ‘This whole situation could become very complicated in the next few days. I think thee should get Kaileah away from the front line.’

‘But if Talorg flees this battle, or we manage to keep the peace, I shall have lost my eyes and ears in his war council,’ Bridei appealed. ‘Talorg will surely think Kaileah suspect if she abandons him before a major confrontation. And thou hast no need to concern thyself about my sister’s welfare in any case, as she hast an aptitude for all work of a secret or sacred nature.’

‘Much like my merlin.’ Rhun had to say something reassuring on that front, for Bridei had seemed a little broody ever since he’d brushed off the sensitive issue of his sister’s affair. ‘I feel sure Selwyn’s reasons for making himself scarce could only be from concern for thy sister’s welfare. For, in all honesty, I have never seen him so enchanted with anything as he be with Kaileah, unless of course it had leaves and branches.’

Bridei smiled and gave a slight laugh. ‘These two were truly meant for one another.’

‘I can think of no better way to end this debacle than with a wedding,’ Rhun assured the concerned brother, with a slap on the back. ‘Meanwhile, we shall do all within our power to ensure that the heir to thy throne hast a free and peaceful land in which to be born.’

‘Thou art a dreamer,’ conceded Bridei, losing his smile. Having spent his whole life in hiding, he could hardly imagine what true freedom was like.

‘The only difference between a dream and a goal be a plan.’ Rhun assured him, so resolutely that a glimmer of hope manifested in Bridei’s expression. ‘Our aim be to claim thy throne from Talorg, without any bloodshed between thy kinsmen.’

Bridei rolled his eyes believing Rhun was suggesting the impossible.

‘Dost thou think me joking?’ Rhun challenged the warlord’s cynicism. ‘I am not … for we can settle the fate of Alban the old way.’

The High King wandered back into his camp and his men swamped him, having been scouring the surrounding area in search of him for some time.

Sir Gareth had arrived at the High King’s camp in his absence, bringing word from the front line in Clyde, where Riderich was assembling his forces.

‘As soon as I heard word of thy march, Majesty, I made haste to seek thee,’ explained his knight. ‘Word of Riderich’s massive force hast reached Morcant, whose own forces will reach Clyde’s lower border sometime tomorrow.’

‘Damn it!’ Rhun immediately shifted into alert mode. ‘We shall have to march double-time overnight and intercept. Damn it!’ He cursed again, his concern for Selwyn underlying his annoyance. How was he to investigate the Merlin’s disappearance and inspire his weary army forth to the Wall at the same time? Rhun had learned to perform many a miracle in his thirty-one years of life, but splitting himself in two he’d yet to master. ‘Gareth.’

‘Highness?’ The knight stepped closer, eager to receive his orders.

‘Get back to thy legions and make sure they do not take to the battlefield,’ Rhun ordered to his knight’s bewilderment. ‘If a confrontation should erupt before we arrive, thou art to walk away.’

Gareth withheld his objection and took the time to nod and confirm the order.

In the High King’s mind and heart there was no doubt of this knight’s loyalty to Gwynedd. Thus, Rhun decided to lead Gareth aside and confide in him. ‘I suspect treason amid the council,’ he whispered. ‘The northern representatives have their own agenda, which I am in the midst of unravelling as we speak. Enemy and ally art not easily defined at present, so watch everyone and trust no one.’

‘I understand,’ Gareth nodded, before looking Rhun in the eye once more. ‘And I am honoured that thou doth still trust me, Majesty.’

‘Those born in our fair kingdom art about the only souls I do trust.’ Rhun slapped Gareth’s shoulder in resolve. ‘Sons of Gwynedd unite!’ he cried out to spur his men into action and the response to the war cry was surprisingly enthusiastic considering it was the middle of the night.

The huge army proved not so difficult to motivate as the High King had imagined. Having come so far, these men had no intention of falling short of their mission by half a day.

The double-time march progressed into a well-paced sprint and by sunrise the Wall was within sight. Here they were halfway between Birdoswald to the east, where Bridei was stationed, and Elidyr’s capital of Carlisle that lay a couple of hours ride to the west.

On the Wall stood a lone figure in wait of the army’s approach and as the sun’s rays filled the landscape with colour and light, the dark feathers of the figure’s cloak could be seen ruffling in the breeze.

Rhun ordered his force to march on and meet up with Gareth’s regiment, stationed with Riderich’s forces outside the border town of Arfderydd, just a short march to the north-west. The High King steered his horse away from his ranks and headed further up the Wall to speak with the Druidess, Kaileah, who had lowered herself from the Wall.

‘Thou art risking much by meeting me here.’ Rhun pulled the horse to a standstill alongside her.

‘On the contrary, Talorg believes thou art coming to Riderich’s aid and hast sent me to greet thee,’ she said, to let the High King know that she was not as foolish as he thought.

‘Talorg sent thee upon thine own suggestion, I take it,’ the High King double-guessed her. ‘And thy eagerness to greet the new High King would not have anything to do with his merlin?’ Rhun voiced the true reason for her presence here this morning.

Her cold expression softened slightly. ‘Just tell me all fares well with him and I shall not broach the subject again,’ she swore, clearly ashamed to be taking political risks for personal reasons.

In the woman’s dark eyes, Rhun could see the anguish in her soul and he knew a lie would snap her fragile heart in two. ‘I have not seen Selwyn since last we met.’

Although he told the truth, Kaileah’s expression turned icier than ever before. ‘I know thou hast visited my brother at least once since —’

‘I took myself.’ Rhun gritted his teeth and confessed, praying to the Gods he wasn’t making a grievous error in doing so.

‘What?’ It took a moment for the Druidess to get the word out, as she was so mystified by his claim. She did believe him, however, and his confession made her rejoice and fret at once. For although this meant Selwyn’s elusiveness was not restricted to her company alone, it did seem to indicate that something was most likely amiss with him. ‘Then I implore thee, Majesty, to use thy talent to find thy merlin.’

‘Precious few know about my skill,’ Rhun whispered hoarsely, although there was no one anywhere within earshot. ‘Only Selwyn, Taliesin and Prince Bryce know, and now thee.’ Rhun explained why he could not grant her wish. ‘If my fellow rulers were to discover my capabilities we would have mass hysteria on our hands.’

‘Thou art Selwyn’s only hope,’ Kaileah stated in a deadly serious fashion. ‘I feel, in my bones, that he suffers terribly.’

‘In case thou hast forgotten, I have a war to prevent this day!’ Rhun stressed, as he was concerned for his Merlin and despite all that was going on in the world, he did feel disposed toward the Druidess’s plea.

‘’Tis more than my heart that compels me to urge thee to make an exception in this case.’ Kaileah knelt beside the King’s horse. ‘The Otherworld urges thee to seek the druid. Dost thee not feel the will of the Goddess and her cohort, Gwyn ap Nudd?’

In actual fact, Rhun felt moved to tears by the force inside him obliging him to put this woman’s suffering to an end. ‘Aye, Kaileah, I do feel it.’ He sounded almost glad to confess.

The Druidess slowly rose to stand, astonished that she had convinced the High King to aid her. ‘Bless thee, Highness.’ She caught her breath, to prevent the tears of relief from flowing down her face.

‘Hop on.’ Rhun reached down and linking arms with the holy woman, he raised her up onto the horse behind him.

‘Where art we going?’ Kaileah wondered what the plan was.

‘Out of sight,’ replied Rhun, as he urged his horse to a rapid pace, heading up the Wall away from his legions.

24

The Darkest Hour

It was a dark and uninviting chamber where the High King and Kaileah found themselves manifested. The stone walls of a fortress surrounded them, and judging from the smell and lack of ventilation, they were on the lower levels near the dungeons. The room reeked of the negative energy usually associated with dark sorcery and the implements for such conjuring were strewn about the place.

‘Where on earth?’ Rhun’s query seemed insignificant as they spied a body lying on a bench to one side of the room.

‘Selwyn?’ Kaileah ran to investigate.

Rhun grabbed the only candle in the room, which had nearly burned down to the end of its wick.

‘Oh Goddess,’ Kaileah uttered, as she rolled the frail body over, to see her lover’s withered face. ‘What hast happened to thee?’

The stench of the Merlin indicated how sick he was. The smell of vomit and other bodily excretions was overwhelming — he’d obviously been left in this state for some time.

‘Why would anyone want to harm a soul so pure as this one?’ As the Druidess put her question to the High King, tears escaped her dark eyes though she struggled to restrain the flow.

The droplets splashed onto the Merlin’s face and with a violent jerking motion, he awoke. Selwyn looked about him and although he did not have the energy to smile, when he saw Kaileah and Rhun his eyes closed briefly in silent thanks. ‘Poisoned me,’ he uttered, hoarsely.

‘Who did?’ Rhun demanded to know, but Selwyn’s eyes closed. He was weary and close to death.

‘We must get him out of here.’ Kaileah shook Selwyn gently, to keep him with them.

‘Aye!’ The Merlin came to again, looking to Rhun. ‘The sacred ring of oaks.’

‘Where I had my supposed meeting with Gwyn ap Nudd?’ the High King queried and Selwyn blinked to confirm. ‘Thou doth want to go there?’ Selwyn blinked again and without further question Rhun nodded to assure the Merlin it was as good as done. ‘I shall take Kaileah and come back for thee.’

‘Obliged,’ mumbled the Merlin as Rhun took hold of the Druidess.

‘Stay conscious,’ she begged as the ethers engulfed her and she faded from view.

When Rhun returned he found the Merlin with his eyes wide open and looking decidedly determined. ‘Thee did not doubt my return?’ he joked as he took hold of Selwyn’s frail hands.

The Merlin shook his head. ‘Praise the Goddess … thee defied … Taliesin.’ The effort to speak exhausted him.

‘Save thy apology for a time when we can both more greatly appreciate it, hey?’ Rhun advised, as he transported the Merlin to his nominated destination.

The early morning rays permeated the branches of the sacred grove in intermittent speckled streams, creating a very serene atmosphere.

The Merlin requested to be laid down on his back in the centre of the bare earth clearing encompassed by oaks, and left alone. He closed his eyes, and shifted his weary arms so that his fingertips made contact with the ground beneath his body.

The High King backed out of the ring to where Kaileah had come to a standstill, having fetched some fresh water in her skin pouch from a nearby stream. ‘I really should be getting back to the Wall,’ Rhun said to her anxiously, feeling a little pressed for time, although the Druidess didn’t seem to hear him.

Kaileah only smiled, curiously excited about something surrounding Selwyn. ‘Incredible.’ She glanced aside to the High King and seeing his frown, she frowned. ‘Dost thou not hear them, Majesty?’

‘Hear them?’ Rhun became most confused, and hushed to listen a moment. ‘Who —’

I think a brew be in order, hey what?

The High King’s eyes parted wide, as he perceived the otherworldly voice, for, as with the Goddess, he heard this utterance in his mind alone.

Send out the word, commanded a second, very distinguished sounding voice. There must be some nymph in the area who will knock together a concoction that will fix our ailing harpist, for all the Tylwyth Teg in the area have been charmed by his craft.

A tiny ball of light floated into the clearing and began dancing around the Merlin’s body.

Hold everything! a grouchy third voice advised. I think we have ourselves a volunteer.

‘I give up,’ Rhun stated in exasperation, having scanned the area and exhausted his powers of reason. ‘To whom do the voices belong?’

The Druidess looked surprised at the High King’s confession. She knew he was well versed in the greater mysteries. ‘Thy merlin converses with the trees.’ Kaileah sounded completely enchanted by the fact, as her fond gaze returned to Selwyn.

‘Of course,’ Rhun concurred, recalling that the Merlin had claimed trees as a primary source of information before today, as many other druids had. The branches of the oaks that overhung the clearing now seemed to Rhun to be leaning toward Selwyn, in consultation with him. The tiny light that danced around him suddenly began increasing in size until equal in stature to a human. This was without doubt the most breathtaking female Rhun had ever seen and she hummed a tune that sent the senses swimming. Scantily clothed by a beautiful arrangement of flowers, the nymph knelt beside the Merlin, sporting a set of large, glistening butterfly-like wings that fluttered feverishly in periodic bursts.

‘She be Gwyn ap Nudd’s Queen Amabel,’ Kaileah whispered aside to Rhun, although the High King was too captivated by the beauty to do anything more than nod. ‘Why should she be here?’ the Druidess queried softly to herself, a little jealous that one so stunning was taking an interest in her lover.

Rhun only smiled in response to the Druidess’s query, for he recalled the folk stories that claimed the Merlin played his harp at the beginning and end of every day for the Queen of the Tylwyth Teg, with whom he had fallen in love. Who said thee cannot believe the tales of the common folk? It was certainly not hard to see why the Merlin had had difficulty finding another love so awe-inspiring as this one.

The sparkling nymph held a large bell-shaped flower in her hands filled with an ultra-blue glowing brew. She might have been oblivious to Rhun and Kaileah’s presence, but it was more likely that she chose not to acknowledge them. The ethereal being sang to the Merlin as she poured the mysterious liquid in his mouth and for a moment Selwyn’s entire body was encased by a glowing blue spiritual matter, which soon became absorbed into his being.

‘Amabel?’ Selwyn’s eyes parted wide to behold the angelic face of his first love whom he’d mourned for thirty years.

So, this be the nymph he hast been pining over since first we met him? The tree with the distinguished manner enlightened the others, its overhanging branch waving about whilst all the branches belonging to the other trees remained still.

So what mischief art thou up to now, hey what? another tree demanded, its main overhanging branch dipping low to seek an answer from the otherworldly visitor.

Hush! the angelic woman implored the grove in a melodious voice. Amabel looked back to Selwyn and waving a hand before his eyes, she continued to sing to him.

Remember me not and have no regrets,

Miss me not and in peace dwell,

Love me not and find true happiness

Be haunted no more by Amabel.

With a kiss from the nymph, the Merlin fell into a peaceful slumber. Then the Night Hunter’s Queen shrank to the size of a pea and whizzed off on a breeze, out of the grove.

Rhun and Kaileah snapped from their breathless gaze and rushed to Selwyn’s side, where they were astonished to find that he appeared as he had before he had gone missing.

‘He hast completely healed.’ Kaileah ran her hands over his clean robes. ‘Clothes and all!’ Her relief and awe urged her to laugh and cry at once.

‘Merlin?’ Rhun straddled the unconscious man’s body and slapped him around the face, but Selwyn was out cold.

The kiss of a nymph induces a fatal slumber, hey what?

The sound of smothered laughter mocked the High King’s efforts to wake the Merlin. ‘Terrific! Now how am I to know who did this to him in the first place?’ Rhun threw his hands in the air, allowing his anger to get the better of him. ‘I thought the Otherworld was supposed to be on my side!’

‘Thee could return to the room where we found Selwyn.’ Kaileah rose to suggest how he might seek his answers without the Merlin’s aid.

‘The door would be locked most likely.’ Rhun shook his head to reject the idea. ‘And I cannot walk through walls … not yet,’ he jested, to lighten the mood.

‘I assure thee, Majesty, the Night Hunter dost watch over thee,’ Kaileah reassured him.

‘Well, watching dost not really aid my cause very much!’ Rhun directed his cynicism at the wilderness around him and away from the Druidess.

As the High King stood brooding, a branch patted him on the shoulder.

Pardon my saying so, but though Gwyn ap Nudd doth not have to aid thee, thou hast one otherworldly ally who must.

‘Taliesin?’ Rhun figured. ‘Nay, he can be of no use. The leaders of the alliance no longer fear him.’

Nay, nay, nay, corrected the tree, sounding perturbed. I do not refer to Taliesin —

Thy subordinates neglect their pledges to the Goddess and her folk because they forget, or have yet to witness, the might of her wrath, the gruff tree interrupted, waving a branch high in the air. If thou art tired of chasing the truth of this affair, then strike the fear of the living Goddess back into her nation’s rulers, I say!

‘I see,’ Rhun grinned, realising what the oaks were driving at.

Now thee cannot say we never aid thee, hey what?

The High King nodded to concede his mistake as he gave their advice serious consideration. ‘If the Otherworld be my ally, then let it work with me to make these rulers cooperate.’ Rhun raised his voice to challenge the Gods, whereby all the trees cheered him on. ‘Send forth the mediator that no man will defy!’

Kaileah’s jaw dropped in amazement, for she couldn’t imagine whom the High King was summonsing. A great pounding shook the ground underfoot and as Kaileah dared to turn her eyes in the direction of the loud disturbance, she was thunderstruck by the form the otherworldly arbitrator assumed.

Bryce reached Caernarvon to find the stronghold already besieged and well on the way to being overrun by the armies of Reged. He assumed from all the craft strewn along the bank of the Menai Straight that Elidyr’s forces had advanced down the waterway under the cover of darkness and attacked Caernarvon’s sleeping community just before dawn.

As with all of Gwynedd’s major strongholds, the present construction at Caernarvon had been originally built during Roman occupation. Thereafter claimed by Cunedda and his sons, the fortification had been expanded by each successive generation to rule in Gwynedd. The original Roman fortress was entirely encompassed by a high stone wall. This featured twin guard towers to the inland side and the Menai Straight side of the stronghold. Over the last century an entire city had sprung up within the huge outer bailey area, and it had prospered within the protection of the fortification’s walls until this day.

The enemy had breached the outer defences and were fighting their way into the main fortress. Most of the city dwellings were ablaze and the horrified screams of women and children could be heard over the war cries, sounds of clashing metal and the groans of injured men. The stronghold appeared grossly undermanned and Bryce had to wonder where all Rhun’s warriors were. The Protector of Dyfed had maybe a hundred Master warriors with him on horseback. The rest of his force were days behind him. How much good they could do the besieged city against the thousands of warriors on the offensive remained to be seen, but they would give Elidyr a good fight for his trouble none the less.

Bryce continued to advance with his force, assessing where they could concentrate their attack to their best advantage, when he spied a druid wandering about amidst the carnage outside the outer bailey walls.

‘Cai?’ Bryce picked up his horse’s pace as the Druid responded to the call.

‘Bryce!’ the young scholar cried, his hood falling back to reveal a face stained red with the blood of others, which was being washed clean by his streaming tears. ‘They lied to Urien!’ he yelled in desperation as he ran to meet his oldest brother. ‘Blain sent Owen to stop Urien from delivering Powys’ withdrawal of support to Elidyr. Blain told Owen that Urien wast committing treason against the High King and that he must stop him at all costs.’ Cai finally reached Bryce’s horse. ‘They baited Rhun into marching his army to the dispute in the North. Caernarvon never stood a chance and Rhun be none the wiser.’

‘By they, I assume thou doth mean Blain and Javotte,’ Bryce clarified and Cai nodded, short on breath. With this news, Bryce decided they needed a merlin’s aid badly. ‘Where be thy mentor?’

Cai shook his head, a hopeless look upon his face. ‘He hast been missing for weeks.’

Bryce winced, as this was a blow to his cause. He looked back at the fortification being overrun, recognising the soldiers doing the penetrating on the inland side not as warriors of Reged, but as warriors of Powys. ‘So Blain hast defied the Goddess, her people, his kindred and our forefathers to lead this battle?’

‘Aye.’ Cai was ashamed and sorry to concede.

‘Then let us find the heinous infidel and deal with him accordingly.’ With this dark resolve the features of Bryce’s face hardened to a warrior’s visage. He pulled his brother onto the back of his horse and continued towards the raised portcullis into the city. ‘Long live Gwynedd!’ Bryce picked up the pace as he led his small band into the thick of the fight.

When Rhun rode onto the battlefield outside the town of Arfderydd, the opposing forces stretched for as far as the eye could see on either side of the vast clearing — Riderich’s side having the greater numbers due to Gwynedd’s reinforcements. The leaders from all the territories involved had converged on the centre of the field to discuss terms, although they appeared more like they were picking a fight.

‘Looks as though we art just in time,’ Rhun uttered to Bridei, as they rode side by side down into the middle of the battlefield at a leisurely pace. Bridei’s rebel force took the field behind them and Gwynedd’s forces fell in behind their King as he passed.

‘First time I ever saw a three-sided battlefield,’ Bridei commented as he motioned for their legions to halt whilst he and the High King proceeded on to join the other leaders.

More so than anyone, Talorg appeared to want to flee, as seeing Bridei and Rhun together must have been the warlord’s worse nightmare. Elifler, Riderich and Gareth were all speechless upon noting the resemblance of the High King to his new Pictish companion. The King of York and the King of Clyde had both been told of the resemblance by Talorg, but even upon viewing the likeness with their own eyes, it was hard to believe it was not an illusion.

It was the two warriors who Rhun did not recognise that he was most eager to speak with. ‘Morcant Bule and Caten of Lothian, I presume.’

‘Rhun of Gwynedd,’ nodded the older of the two men, who was dark and thickset. He appeared to be the thinker of the pair; thus Rhun guessed him to be Morcant.

‘These Kings claim to be opposing us in thy name,’ accused the other man, who was fair, tall, and of slighter build than his ally.

‘These men have been claiming a lot of things lately, that I am afraid hold little truth.’ Rhun shot an accusing glance in Talorg’s direction, but maintained his good spirits as he looked back to Morcant and Caten. ‘There shall be no war declared on thy territories here today, nor any other day so long as I rule as High King … provided thy kingdoms continue to flourish in peace with the territories with whom I am allied.’

‘What!’ cried everyone, some in amazement, most in protest.

‘Majesty!’ Riderich repositioned his horse so as to be in the High King’s face. ‘I would not assume too much of thy new position, if I were thee,’ he hissed, doing his best to taunt the King.

‘Oh really.’ Rhun brushed off his threat, ‘Why so?’

‘Thee would not want to find thyself all alone on the battlefield this day.’ As Riderich made the threat, Elifler and Talorg sniggered to back him up.

‘He would not be alone.’ Morcant was happy to call his enemy’s bluff and Caten gave a war cry in support.

‘My good men, please!’ Rhun insisted they all calm down. ‘A gracious offer, Morcant, Caten,’ he granted, ‘but as I have already stated that there will be no battle here today, I will have no cause to take thee up on it.’ As the warriors all began to grumble once more, the High King spoke up over the top of their protests. ‘However, as we have all been dragged outdoors on this fine morning, I have devised a fight for our enjoyment and for the entertainment of the troops before the long march home.’

When Bridei dismounted, Talorg really began to look worried. ‘I challenge thee, old man, for my rightful inheritance.’ Bridei came to stand before the Pictish ruler. ‘I shall not have the blood of so many shed for what we can settle between ourselves.’

‘Will someone tell me what, in the name of the Gods, be going on?’ Caten demanded as he gestured to Bridei. ‘What doth this man have to do with anything?’

‘Thou dost not know him?’ Riderich queried his enemy curiously.

‘Should I?’ Caten was vexed.

‘Aye,’ Riderich’s sights turned dark as he looked to Talorg, ‘as I wast told thee and Morcant had joined forces with him.’

‘Rubbish! I have never laid eyes on him before this day,’ Morcant stated, the cause of this unexpected dispute becoming more apparent.

‘What gives?’ Elifler demanded answers from Talorg, realising they had all been had.

‘What difference dost it make? I say we complete the conquest we started.’ Talorg remained on his horse, hoping to rally these kingdoms to war and avoid a one-on-one confrontation with his young challenger.

Rhun looked to Riderich, whom he’d never disliked or had any beef with. ‘Have we a cause to fight this day?’

Riderich looked at the High King long and hard, realising he was giving him the opportunity to wash his hands of the affair. ‘I do not believe so, Majesty,’ Riderich concurred, turning his steely glare in Talorg’s direction. ‘I hope this lad flattens thee, Talorg, then I shall not have a lying maggot for an ally.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Elifler, ‘let us see him bleed.’

Talorg reared up his horse and headed back towards his legions.

‘Get back here!’ Bridei demanded indignantly and moved to mount his horse to pursue his victim.

‘Fear not,’ Rhun assured the young would-be king. ‘He shall be back.’

From behind the rise where Alban’s forces were assembled, arose the huge head, shoulders and wings of the red dragon, Archimedes. As Rufus had been Maelgwn’s otherworldly affiliate, so was the dragon’s spawn, Archimedes, appointed by the Goddess to serve Rhun during his reign as King of Gwynedd.

Talorg was riding towards the ferocious fire-breathing beast, and so was among the first to see it. At a deafening screech from the creature, the Pictish warlord turned his horse around and headed back toward the gathering of Kings — his fearsome band of painted warriors running along after him.

‘Dear Goddess!’ Riderich battled to steady the restless horse beneath him. ‘The dragon belongs to thee?’ he questioned the High King hopefully, having heard the legend of the dragons of Gwynedd.

‘Archimedes hast come to mediate on the Goddess’ behalf,’ Rhun advised all present, and they watched the enormous beast crawl over the rise and onto the field. Men scampered left and right to avoid the three sharp claws on each of the creature’s four feet. ‘A good thing thee chose to support her council’s cause, hey Riderich?’

Riderich gave the King a bewildered look that implied he wholeheartedly agreed.

‘What assurances do we have that this beast will not consume our armies?’ Morcant was beside himself — half a century on this earth and he’d never seen anything like this.

‘My good man, thou art free to leave at any time, thy legions with thee,’ Rhun assured. ‘If thou hast not the stomach for these proceedings, or thou doth wish to make a start on the trek home, do not let us delay thy departure. The dragon will return to the Otherworld once the fate of Alban’s leadership hast been decided in a fair fight.’

‘Thou art an excellent friend, Rhun of Gwynedd, to go to such lengths for me.’ Bridei bowed before the High King, well impressed with his safety measures. ‘I am forever in thy debt.’

‘Forever may not prove to be very long.’ Talorg returned to their midst.

‘I thought thee might see things my way,’ Rhun welcomed the warlord back. ‘Thou hast nothing to fear from Archimedes’ so long as there is a fair fight.’

‘To the death then, boy.’ Talorg leapt from his horse and drawing his sword he and Bridei began circling each other. ‘Oh, by the way, Highness,’ the rogue warlord mocked Rhun as he passed in front of the High King’s horse. ‘Hast thee not noticed someone missing from the field this day?’

As Rhun looked about in search of the absent menace, his sights fell on Elifler, who appeared rather out of place as he wasn’t cowering in his uncle’s shadow. ‘Why hast the King of Reged not graced us with his presence this morning?’

Talorg’s aggrieved expression was suddenly rather chipper. ‘As it turns out, Elidyr hast always had a bit of a thing for thy queen, Highness … so he just thought he would go to Gwynedd and keep her company in thy absence.’

Rhun’s calm demeanour disappeared abruptly, as he looked to Riderich. ‘Tell me he lies.’

The King of Clyde shied from the question. ‘Talorg led us all to believe —’

‘I do not want hear thy confessional, man.’ Rhun gripped hold of the leader’s shirt to shake the answer out of him. ‘Dost he lie or not?’

‘Nay, Highness, he speaks the truth,’ admitted Riderich. ‘Elidyr attacked Caernarvon at sunrise.’

‘Nay, thou art lying.’ Gareth panicked. ‘All my family art there.’

Rhun only frowned as his mind processed the information, thinking his own family still safely tucked away in Dyfed. ‘Caernarvon seems an awfully large target for Elidyr to tackle alone?’

Riderich hesitated to voice what he knew would be the worst of the news for the High King. ‘King Blain wast to march troops overland to aid Elidyr’s attack. They planned to consume Gwynedd between them, and with thee out of the way Blain would proclaim himself High King.’

In order to crush our opposition thee must kill a man. Taliesin’s warning came back to haunt him and for a moment Rhun was consumed by silent rage, aware that he could not expose the extent of his anguish in present company. At the sound of swords clashing in combat, he opened his eyes to find Bridei’s fight for his throne had begun.

‘Majesty, what can we do?’ Gareth felt it a stupid question to ask, being that they were weeks from home.

‘Follow me,’ Rhun instructed, riding around the area where the duel was taking place and beyond to where the dragon loitered.

‘Archimedes,’ he announced loudly as he approached the beast, who was apparently engrossed in the fight. ‘I need thee to send me and my knight, Gareth, forth to Caernarvon.’ The High King dismounted and excused his nervous horse.

Thou art perfectly capable of doing that thyself, the creature bethought the High King, without bothering to look to him.

‘Aye, but as nobody else knows that, I would be grateful if thee would help me keep up appearances,’ Rhun explained.

‘Hast thou lost thy mind?’ Gareth appeared to want to retreat very badly. ‘I demand to know how he shall send us forth?’

‘It will not hurt a bit. Just think of thy kin.’ Rhun urged Gareth close enough to grip hold of his arm. ‘Archimedes, if thee please.’ He let the beast know he was ready for his performance.

The dragon rolled his eyes and, with a yawn, he waved a claw about above the High King and his knight.

All at Arfderydd were amazed when the two men vanished from the field.

Half of Bryce’s men had been killed getting into the main stronghold at Caernarvon. Those who survived the skirmish being fought in the inner and outer bailey followed their leader to the main stairwell. They realised the nobles of the household could be trapped on the upper level of the fort.

Here they were astonished to find that the ageing Sir Tiernan and a handful of knights still held the stairway, and were frantically fending off a far greater force.

‘Need a hand?’ Bryce yelled to Tiernan, drawing the focus of the warriors trying to force their way upstairs. The look of relief on the faces of Gwynedd’s knights was thanks enough as Bryce’s men joined ranks with Tiernan’s to defend the stairway.

As the passageway was now reinforced, Bryce fought his way through the squeeze and Tiernan pulled the Protector out of the main fighting to race him upstairs. Cai had been instructed to stay close to Bryce, so he hurried up the stairs after them. ‘The High Queen be here,’ Sir Tiernan informed them both in a whisper.

‘Why?’ Bryce appealed. ‘Did thee not get my message, warning that an attack might be imminent?’

‘No message arrived! We had no warning whatsoever.’ Tiernan reached the next level of the fortress and headed around to see how they were holding out at the other stairwell.

‘Where art the women?’ Bryce decided to join their guard.

‘In here.’ Tiernan knocked on the heavy oak door to check on them, expecting it to be barred. Instead the door fell to the floor with an almighty thud, having been rammed open previously. The High Queen and Gareth’s wife, Linette, and their young daughter, were missing, along with their female servants. Sir Tiernan’s own wife of thirty years, the Lady Ione, was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, her throat cut, along with the members of Bridgit’s royal guard.

Tiernan let loose a blood-curdling scream. Had he been forty instead of sixty, he would have recovered his sensibilities quickly and sought and slain his beloved wife’s murderer. As it was, he sank to his knees beside Ione, and taking her up in his arms he wept bitterly — all his will to fight died with her.

Bryce left Cai to comfort the shattered knight and raced off through the fortress in search of the womenfolk.

As he approached a T-intersection in the stone corridor Bryce turned left, towards the only other stairwell that led down from this level. Here he confronted a large group of soldiers, who fell into a barrier formation upon sighting him. There were at least a dozen soldiers opposing. They were all warriors from Powys and men whom Bryce knew, but he doubted that that would ensure him safe passage this day. He backed away from them, down the passage that led to the main sleeping quarters and, surprisingly, the warriors didn’t follow him, but stood at ease as he departed.

‘Nay, thee cannot let him do this.’

Bryce heard Bridgit’s voice coming from the main bedchamber up ahead.

‘Thy husband always boasted thou wast more than keen.’

Bryce paused at the door to listen — it was Elidyr who was addressing the High Queen.

‘After me,’ he boasted, ‘my entire regiment shall have thee and I believe that thee might even enjoy it.’

As Bridgit screamed Bryce burst through the door, his sword extended and ready to strike. ‘Release the High Queen, or I shall run thee through.’

Elidyr, struggling with Bridgit on the bed, didn’t bother getting off her, but he did look at Bryce and smile. ‘Not if I run thee through first.’

Bridgit began shaking her head in warning, ‘Behind thee —’

A short, sharp stabbing pain shot through Bryce’s body. He lost all sensation in his legs and fell to the floor. Looking down he saw three-quarters of a sword blade protruding from his gut, his lifeblood pouring onto the floor around him. He could hear someone laughing, and looking up he discovered it wasn’t Elidyr as he had returned to his struggle with the High Queen.

‘Goddamn it woman!’ Elidyr lost patience and headbutted Bridgit, whereupon she fell unconscious. ‘Thank heavens, some cooperation.’ The King of Reged drew his sword and sliding it underneath the High Queen’s nightdress, he cut it from her body.

Although all physical sensation had departed from Bryce’s limbs, the knowledge that he’d failed to save Bridgit from defilement, just as he had failed to save her mother, proved far more agonising than the sword that was rammed through his spine. His sight began to blur and his hearing muffled as his breathing became shallow. Goddess, save her, was his dying thought.

When Rhun thought of Caernarvon, he thought of Sir Tiernan, who had been left in charge of the stronghold for the duration of his son’s absence. He would have picked another target had he realised Gareth would arrive home to find his mother slain at his feet.

‘Dear Goddess!’ he cried, kneeling down to beseech his father. ‘Where be Linette and the baby?’

Tiernan shook his head. ‘Prince Bryce went after thy family and the High Queen.’ The knight’s grief-stricken eyes shifted to Rhun.

‘How did Bridgit come to be here?’ Without waiting for a response, Rhun gripped Gareth’s arm to will them to the High Queen’s side and he didn’t care who caught him in the act.

The High King found his wife stripped naked on a bed and Elidyr standing over her, fumbling with the tie on his trousers.

‘Damn thing,’ he grumbled and finally conquered the knot.

As the King of Reged’s trousers came loose Rhun pulled them down around his knees and belted him away from Bridgit. Whilst the startled man staggered and dropped to the ground, Rhun pulled the bedding to cover his wife’s body, noticing the bloodied fingerprints her defiler had left on her face, neck and breasts. ‘Bridgit, my love,’ he said softly, stroking the bruise on her forehead. ‘Speak to me,’ he begged, tears flooding his eyes when she did not respond. She was still breathing easily, and with any luck she would have little memory of any of this when she did wake.

‘Where art my wife and child?’ Gareth belted Elidyr a couple of times to speed his resolve.

‘Blain took them as host —’ Elidyr started to gag on the blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

Rhun didn’t need to hear any more.

The main bedchamber here at Caernarvon was virtually an impregnable tower from the outside and so featured large windows.

The High King threw wide the large wooden shutters of the window that overlooked the Menai Straight. The boats Elidyr’s force had come in on could be seen below. ‘I think it high time thou wast leaving.’ He looked at Elidyr, having never desired to kill a man before this moment.

‘Nay.’ The King became a dead weight in Gareth’s arms as the knight attempted to raise the traitor off the floor. ‘I can compensate thee … be reasonable!’

Rhun strode over to help the proceedings along. ‘What thou hast taken from me cannot be replaced,’ he hissed, gripping hold of Elidyr around the back of the neck.

‘I never even got my pants off,’ Elidyr defended, which only fueled Rhun’s fury.

‘Thou hast turned our blood brother against us and for that thee shall die,’ Rhun assured Elidyr frankly, before he and Gareth showed the King of Reged to the window and sped him towards his awaiting transport down below.

It was only as Rhun turned back to check on his wife that he noted the body lying on the floor on the far side of the bed.

He expected to find one of the High Queen’s personal guards, but when he discovered Prince Bryce with the murder weapon still in his body, all Rhun’s childish delusions about friendship vanished. For Rhun recognised the distinctive sword — the weapon belonged to the King of Powys, and Blain had not left it behind by accident. As Rhun wrenched the murder weapon from his best friend’s lifeless body, he couldn’t prevent the tears from falling down his face. ‘Goddess damn thee, Blain!’ Rhun cried out, casting the sword aside. ‘Why art thou driving me to take thy life?’

‘There thou art, Majesty!’ Urien entered, sporting his usual cheer. ‘Never fear, the reinforcements art here. Thee shall not believe what I have been through to —’ The High King looked to his ally and Urien saw the utter devastation on his face. He realised who the corpse beside Rhun was. ‘Dear God,’ he uttered, deeply saddened himself.

The High King held a hand up to stop Urien saying anything more. ‘If thee could both give me a moment.’

Urien nodded and left quietly without another word. Gareth quietly followed him.

‘See if thee can catch Blain up before he departs Gwynedd.’ Rhun gave his knight the go-ahead to pursue his family. ‘Still, I fear he hast departed down the Menai and headed straight for Powys.’

‘Should we be forced to negotiate for their lives, I trust that thee and the Goddess will find a means to return them safely to me.’ After what Gareth had witnessed of the High King’s talents this day, he seriously doubted there was any feat Rhun was incapable of.

‘About today.’ Rhun thought he’d best make his knight swear to secrecy.

‘I saw nothing.’ Gareth put his concerns to rest. ‘I know nothing.’ He left the High King in peace, closing the door on his way out.

As Rhun’s eyes again fell on Bryce, he dropped to his knees beside his friend and allowed his tears to flow freely.

Why had the greatest warrior of his lifetime been pointlessly murdered, whilst the one who had committed the grievous crime had slipped away? Was this what all his efforts to change the course of his own destiny had amounted to?

‘Nay.’ He grabbed Bryce up in his arms. ‘This wast not the way thy life wast meant to turn out.’

If only he’d killed Blain when Taliesin had advised it, Bryce would still be living.

I could no sooner kill Blain than my own son, he had sworn only two weeks before, and even now, if he were to be placed before Blain with a dagger in his hand, he doubted if he could deal the fatal blow. But if Blain was capable of killing Bryce, who’d only ever done his very best by his brothers, then the King of Powys was immoral enough to do anything. More were going to suffer and Rhun was the only one who could put a stop to Blain’s reign of terror before it gained any more momentum.

‘Oh Goddess,’ he cried out. The truth hurt. ‘There must be a way I can mend this.’ Rhun suddenly recalled how near to death Selwyn had been earlier this day and how he was now in perfect health. Could the Tylwyth Teg perform such miracles with the dead? Then Taliesin’s speech to the council before the big election came to mind and brought Rhun some hope.

By the power of the elements, all the lives lost that dreadful night were restored.

‘Gwyn ap Nudd,’ resolved Rhun aloud, clutching Bryce’s body to teleport it to the sacred ring of oaks where the Night Hunter was known to dwell.

The High King manifested with his dead companion in the middle of the sacred clearing ringed by oaks. The sky above had become overcast and the grayness of the day seemed in formidable harmony with Rhun’s sad circumstance.

Another casualty, hey what? One of the overhanging branches dipped lower to have a closer look. Thou art having quite a day.

Rhun ignored the tree, spying his Merlin sitting nearby, in close conversation with the Druidess. ‘Merlin!’

Selwyn nearly jumped out of his skin. ‘I have only just awoken,’ He defended the way circumstances would appear to be to the contrary. ‘I wast just about to seek thee. I —’

‘The crisis hast passed,’ Rhun rose to inform. ‘If thou dost want to be of use, however, then get me an audience with Gwyn ap Nudd.’

Selwyn would have asked why, but when he sighted Prince Bryce’s corpse, no further explanation seemed necessary. ‘I doubt the Night Hunter will come, even for thee —’

‘I can get thee into Annwn to speak with him.’ Kaileah rose and stepped forward to offer her services, as she owed the High King a favour or two. The Druidess flipped her raven cloak back over her shoulders. Underneath she wore a plain dress of deep green. Slung around her hips was a thick leather belt with many little pouches and other curious items. These were attached, with leather ties, to the many holes crafted into the belt for just this purpose. From within one of these pouches she pulled a tiny shrivelled mushroom. ‘These art very rare,’ she explained, ‘but can broaden thy consciousness for a short time so that thee may comprehend the worlds that exist within our own.’

Rhun accepted the rotting piece of fungus from the Druidess and was about to place it in his mouth when Kaileah stopped him.

‘First, please tell me how my brother fares?’ she pleaded, knowing the High King was pressed for time.

‘He fights Talorg for his crown as we speak,’ Rhun advised, ‘but as I was forced to return to Caernarvon, I do not yet know the outcome of their struggle.’

‘So thou art aware of Blain’s treachery?’ Selwyn figured. ‘I had hoped to warn thee of his intent for it was the King of Powys and his queen who poisoned me, using a recipe from Vanora’s old Grimoire. I do not know how long Javotte hast known about Vanora’s coven room at Arwystli, but she hast been studying the evil doctrine for some time from what I could tell.’

The High King nodded, most interested by what the Merlin said. ‘Not to worry,’ he assured Selwyn. ‘I shall address the problem presently.’ Rhun placed the piece of dried mushroom in his mouth. ‘But first things first.’

‘Sit thee down.’ Kaileah guided the High King back to his dead friend, where he collapsed onto the ground beside Bryce.

The High King gave a chuckle as his mood took a sudden swing to the positive for the effect of the mushroom was almost instantaneous. ‘I have to get me some more of that fungus … wow, it makes thee feel fine!’

‘Indeed.’ Kaileah knew what he meant, which was why she rarely made the secret properties of the mushrooms known to anyone. Once exposed to their blissful effect there was a distinct temptation to remain under their influence indefinitely. ‘Soon Annwn will manifest around thee. Take care not to partake of any of the delights the realm hast to offer lest ye never return to us, Highness.’

‘I am high, alright.’ Rhun chuckled again in a boyish fashion.

‘Majesty.’ The Druidess touched the High King’s face to gain his full attention. ‘I am very serious about this instruction.’

‘Sweet Kaileah.’ The High King held her face in both his hands. ‘I know the drill and will return.’ He kissed her forehead, as if she were a little child. ‘Bless thee.’ Rhun let the Druidess go, as he was startled by a burst of bright blue-white ethereal light. ‘Aw!’ he cried, shielding his eyes a moment. Rhun expected to experience some strain in parting his lids again, but when he dared a peek, there was no pain or difficulty of vision. Kaileah and Selwyn had vanished from the landscape which now pulsated with colour and light. Rhun was distressed to find Bryce’s body was also missing, but as the old oaks around him suddenly grew to twice their normal height, he was overcome by wonder. The earthen ground on which he sat had been covered by a soft moss-like grass that was greener than the countryside of Gwynedd at the height of the season of Flowering.

‘Night Hunter,’ Rhun cried out as he got to his feet. ‘Thy appointed representative in Abred requires thy counsel and requests an audience —’

Do stop shouting.

The High King staggered around to confront the eight-foot warrior, who sported the same distinctive features as the Goddess, Keridwen.

I know why thou art here. Gwyn looked to the piece of ground where Bryce’s body resided back in the world of Abred, and with a wave of his hand the dead warrior manifest at the Lord’s feet. Very unfortunate when it did not have to be this way … we held high hopes for this one too.

‘I know thou hast the power to bring him back to life.’ Rhun put forward his hopes.

Nay, not I, the Night Hunter corrected, having a bit of a laugh. Only the elementals have the power to restore life. I am merely an agent who looks after their interests … I cut the deals, as it were.

Rhun nodded to confirm he followed.

Thy wish shall be granted, for the elements of nature art well disposed towards thee. Gwyn put Rhun’s heart to rest on that issue. But first thee must nominate the soul who shall compensate for the life to be restored.

‘What!’ Rhun was horrified, but only a moment. ‘Me. Take my life.’

Gwyn ap Nudd grinned as he shook his head. Thou art beyond the reincarnation loop, warrior, and well thou doth know it! The soul must belong to that of a mortal man. Or woman, he conceded.

Rhun was vexed by the Night Hunter’s argument, for he did not wish to go where it was leading. ‘Nay! I do not believe the Goddess or her folk would wish me to murder in their name … not when it be their task to create life.’

It be their task to balance life, Gwyn corrected, and there be only so much consciousness to go round. This murdered soul hast a place to go, he motioned down to Bryce. And if he shall not be departing this life, then there must be a soul to compensate.

‘But then I shall be changing the course of the destiny of whomever I nominate?’ Rhun argued.

Humans! Gwyn cried out, aggravated with having to debate this issue with someone who knew next to nothing about the higher universal order and just as little about his own mind. Hast it not occurred to thee that thy inaction already changed the course of a soul’s destiny, and now thou art here to correct that oversight?

Rhun staggered back a few paces, stupefied, as this had been the very notion that had urged him to seek the Night Hunter.

’Tis not often that fate awards thee a second chance to get it right, so name the replacement.

The High King closed his eyes, not wanting to admit that fate had beaten him. All his efforts to defy the prophecy had only brought him back to the same horrid circumstance. ‘I think we both know who I must fight —’

Nay … there will be no fight, Gwyn advised. He cannot defeat thee, so why risk escape? We want him dead, plain and simple. In him exists the greatest and only threat to the Goddess’ alliance, her land and people.

Although Rhun shuddered he was not surprised by the terms of their agreement. ‘I shall not find my target alone until he returns to his home days from now, so what shall become of Bryce until then?’

We shall restore thy friend to life in good faith, the Lord of the Night proffered. But if thou doth fail to meet thy commitment before seven days lapse, then the good Protector of Dyfed shall have the misfortune of dying all over again.

‘I understand,’ Rhun conceded, eager to have Bryce back. ‘So be it, Night Hunter.’

Then stand back, Rhun of Gwynedd. Gwyn motioned him to safe place out of the way. And witness thy wish granted. The Night Hunter held his cupped hands over Bryce and said:

Ignite inferno, the spark of all existence.

A fiery orange mass began to seethe and manifest in the hands of the Lord of the Night, erupting and exploding like an active volcano harnessed inside the field of an invisible orb.

Assume the aura that grants the soul breath.

A golden mist burst forth from within the fiery ball, and consumed the orb with its glistening, ghostly lustre.

Emotive liquid fill the senses until they runneth over.

Blue ripples gushed forth through the glittering mist, and the illuminated ball turned entirely liquid — appearing not unlike the sun when viewed from under rippling water on a fine summer’s day.

Matter solidify the being and bind it to this earth.

Glowing green matter grew up through the waves and engulfed the surface of the orb as moss might claim a damp rock. Once covered by the solid, bright, glowing substance, the throbbing spectre the Night Hunter held grew in size and as it did, a silvery-white light began to burst through the green. Once the orb entirely glistened like sunlight on a still lake, Gwyn ap Nudd parted his cupped hands and the spectral light floated down to alight upon Bryce’s body. As the life source was absorbed back into the warrior’s body, his injury faded and his limbs relaxed.

He began to draw breath.

25

Killing the Past

Bryce was going to be sleeping like a baby for some time and Bridgit was still unconscious, so Rhun thought he’d best get back to the battlefield outside the town of Arfderydd and find out the fate of Alban.

The huge field was deserted, bar one horse and one man, who was seated in the middle of the wide open space with his back to the approaching High King.

‘Bridei?’ Rhun called to be sure it was he, whereupon the Pictish warrior jumped to his feet holding high the head of Talorg.

‘I have a trophy for thee,’ Bridei announced with glee, tossing the severed head in the air. ‘I am King! A free man, such as may sit in the middle of an open field in broad daylight.’ He threw his arms wide to bask in his new-found liberty.

Rhun let loose a victory cry as he ran down to jump on the young King, hugging and beating him about in congratulations. ‘I had no doubt of it,’ he assured Bridei sincerely, as they calmed to a standstill.

‘’Twas such a fight, thee should have seen it! All my men marched away from this field united, something I thought I would never see.’ A tear escaped the young warrior’s eye, as he was suddenly filled with emotion and pride. ‘’Twas a miracle, Rhun, and I thank thee for bringing it about.’

‘It wast thy own will and that of the Goddess, that hast united thy people, Bridei.’ Rhun gave his view. ‘But for my small part, thou art most welcome.’

Bridei suddenly look mortified. ‘Here am I raving on about my victory and I have not even asked how thy kingdom and thy kin fare as a result?’

‘There was a battle, lives were lost.’ Rhun found himself not wanting to speak of it, for fear his hurt and feelings of betrayal would surface before he found time alone to deal with them. ‘But Gwynedd shall recover swiftly,’ he asserted, drifting off into a vision of what was to come. ‘There art a few loose ends I must see to. But,’ Rhun snapped out of his daze and smiled to assure the young ruler, ‘at the next sitting of the Goddess’ alliance, the kings present will enter an era of greater cooperation than ever before, that much I promise thee.’

‘I shall warrant thou art right there, Dragon.’ Bridei had a laugh. ‘None of the rulers gathered here today will ever defy thee again, for fear of thy pet!’ When the warrior got over his amusement, he had to wonder at the odd look of delight on Rhun’s face. ‘What did I say?’

Rhun shook his head. ‘Thou art the first person to ever call me Dragon, without putting little before it,’ he explained, much preferring the nickname this way.

‘There be nothing little about thee, my friend,’ Bridei emphasised, slapping a hand down on the King of Gwynedd’s shoulder. ‘This single event, thy march of peace to save so many from a needless death, makes thee, in my mind, the most outstanding king of all the legends history hast to offer.’

Rhun shied from the praise as he considered his own parents and the miracles they’d achieved. ‘My father would have done exactly the same thing.’

‘But he did not.’ Bridei became quite serious. ‘Thee did.’

At Caernarvon, Rhun lay beside Bridgit awaiting her return to consciousness, mulling over Bridei’s praise of him. And despite all that he’d been through, he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with what he’d achieved. But how would he feel about himself after he had atoned for Sir Bryce’s return to life?

He looked at Bridgit, realising that Blain would have permitted Elidyr to rape his wife in order to lure Bryce to his death, all with the sole intent of hurting the High King. ‘Could the position mean so much to him?’ This attack was more than just political, it was personal. ‘What did I do?’ Rhun just couldn’t figure it and if he murdered Blain as instructed, he would never find out the motive or indeed if there was one.

‘Rhun?’ Bridgit stirred and upon sighting her husband she rolled herself over to embrace him. ‘I knew thee would come … whoa.’ As the bump on her head made her dizzy, Rhun assisted his wife back to a reclining position. ‘Elidyr …’ Bridgit shuddered, as the events she’d been party to before her blackout came back to shock and distress her.

‘Wast dead before he got near thee,’ Rhun assured her in a whisper, whereby his wife’s weeping turned to tears of joy and relief. ‘Bryce?’ Bridgit raised herself once more to look to the floor, scrubbed clean of the blood, but some staining still remained.

‘Bryce be fine and resting peacefully,’ Rhun informed, to her great shock and delight. ‘And I suggest thee do the same.’ He kissed her forehead, urging her to lay back and relax, but she would not.

Although Bryce had always been Rhun’s dearest friend and advisor, and therefore dear to Bridgit’s heart, his selfless aid this day and in the past had had a profound effect on her life. ‘The man hast been like a guardian spirit to me and my kin, I owe him so much.’ She was overwhelmed by tears again, as there were no words to describe the loving gratitude she felt for the Protector of Dyfed. ‘I only recently discovered how he saved mother from her death, and now he hast been wounded saving me.’

Rhun hugged his wife close. ‘If I know Bryce, and I do, that thou art alive and unharmed will be all the reward or thanks he will ever need. To protect his kin hast been his sole life purpose, as long as they art safe, he remains a happy man.’

‘Speaking of kin, art thee aware what became of Urien?’ Bridgit wondered if her newly-found brother had done the right thing by his kindred in the end.

‘He hast been waiting patiently to see thee.’ Rhun made a move to send for him, but Bridgit took hold of his hand to waylay him. ‘I do not know if I wish to grant him an audience at present. Tell me of his movements throughout this nightmare first, and then I shall decide if I have a brother or not.’

Rhun smiled, happy to oblige her.

He began his tale at Arwystli where Bryce and Urien were deceived into believing Blain would withdraw his assistance to Elidyr’s attack on Caernarvon. ‘Urien offered to carry the note of withdrawal to Reged and deliver it to Elidyr in person, unaware that Blain had sent Owen to stop the missive ever being delivered. For Owen wast under the misconception that Urien planned to aid Elidyr and so was sent forth by Blain with an order to kill him on sight.’

Bridgit became concerned for her brother, even though she knew he must come to no harm in the story, waiting as he was to see her. ‘Wast Owen not suspicious, having no proof of Urien’s treason?’ she defended, passionately.

‘Fortunately, aye, he wast.’

Bridgit gave a sigh of relief.

‘Once Owen caught up with Urien on the lower border of Reged, they both sorted through their stories and the truth of the matter became fairly plain. They decided to continue on to Ribchester and deliver the missive as originally planned in the hope of bluffing Elidyr out of the attack.’

‘Which obviously did not happen.’ Bridgit thought that plainly obvious.

‘Elidyr had already departed leaving his young son, Llywarch, to govern in his absence. To cut a long story short … Urien got talking with the future King of Reged to discover Llywarch be a passive Prince with no desire to rule a Kingdom … in fact his greatest aspiration be to study as a Bard under Selwyn, as Prince Cai dost.’

‘They struck a deal?’ Bridgit guessed, thinking it was just like Urien to negotiate a kingdom from beneath a ruler, without raising so much as his voice. ‘Tell me.’ She was dying of suspense.

‘I really think Urien will want to tell thee the details himself.’ Rhun made a move to fetch him again, only to be yanked back onto the bed by his impatient wife.

‘Nay, I am still not convinced. Tell me the rest,’ she insisted, whereby Rhun climbed back onto the bed to complete the tale.

‘Besides Urien, Owen and Llywarch, a fourth party helped formulate how everyone’s wish might be granted.’ Rhun paused to build the suspense, whereby Bridgit hit him.

‘Aye, and?’ she prompted.

‘And it wast decided that should Elidyr die in his attempt to take Caernarvon, as Urien suspected he would, then —’

‘Hold on.’ Bridgit pulled him up. ‘Thee did not tell me who the fourth person at this meeting wast?’

‘I am coming to that,’ Rhun assured, as if put out by the interruption. ‘The fourth person wast Llywarch’s cousin, Brimesent, the younger sister of Elifler, who wast staying at Ribchester under Llywarch’s protection whilst her brother and uncle were absent from their kingdoms. A fortunate thing, too, as Urien and the Princess of York both took rather an instant fancy to each other. So, it wast decided that if Elidyr died in his attempt to take Caernarvon —’

‘My brother be going to wed!’ Bridgit guessed the punchline, nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement. ‘Fetch him, quickly.’ She ushered her husband out to do her will, as she hastened to make herself look presentable.

Rhun didn’t have to go far. Urien was pacing the corridor just outside the door, as he had been for several hours. When the High King gave a whistle, the King of Gwent and, soon, Reged, came running.

‘How fares my sister? Will she speak with me?’ he hounded Rhun, having pondered these questions for hours.

Rhun simply nodded.

‘Did thee tell her about Brimesent?’ Urien moved past the High King to enter the bedchamber.

Again Rhun nodded. ‘I fear her enthusiasm may overwhelm thee,’ he assured with a wink.

‘Splendid, Majesty … I cannot tell thee how relieved I am.’ Urien made haste to speak with Bridgit, as he was most eager to make amends with his sister. ‘Urien of Reged hast rather a fine ring to it, dost thou not think so?’ He posed the question to Bridgit as he entered, throwing his arms wide in victory.

‘Congratulations!’ She squealed with delight and embraced Urien, and Rhun closed the door so that they might speak alone.

Blain had fled back to Powys via boat, and hence Gareth had been unable to recover his wife and child from their captor. Cai had also gone missing in the wake of the battle and so it was assumed that he’d been taken hostage also.

Not that it mattered how many Blain kidnapped; nothing could protect him from what fate had in store. In Rhun’s mind, this hostage situation was yet another incentive to execute his elemental vow without hesitation or question. In a few days, the ten-year-old Prince of Powys, Solomon, would be king. Until Solomon came of age, Prince Owen would rule in Powys in his stead. Owen was still faithful to the Goddess and her council, thus all hostages would be released.

‘Killing in the name of peace,’ mumbled Rhun, his eyes lost in the roaring fire that heated Bryce’s recovery room.

Thee cannot place personal friendship before the welfare of the entire nation!

Rhun did not have to seek Taliesin to know what he would say on the subject. Yet his soul found no solace in knowing that Blain’s death would be considered just and welcomed by many.

‘I imagined eternal paradise very differently.’

The High King’s attention diverted to the bed not far away, where Bryce now sat upright, checking the bulging muscles around his abdomen for a wound. He looked to Rhun, appearing most bewildered when he failed to locate so much as a scratch.

‘I wast run through from behind. I know it.’

‘Aye, ’tis true.’ Rhun raised himself and slowly approached to begin his explanation, still unsure of how much he would divulge to Bryce. ‘But thy death wast never meant to be and by the grace of the Goddess and her elements, thy life hast been restored.’

‘Thy wife!’ Bryce suddenly remembered Bridgit’s sad predicament at the time he’d lost consciousness.

‘She was spared,’ Rhun assured him. ‘I arrived in time to prevent her being defiled.’

‘Praise the Goddess.’ Bryce breathed a sigh of relief, but having been in the company of the Dragon’s kindred some thirty years, he knew that the Otherworld never performed favours free of charge. There always had to be an exchange of kind. ‘What be the going rate in Annwn for a life these days?’

‘The death of another.’ Rhun found it difficult to look Bryce in the eye and so moved to pour him a drink of water. ‘The man who murdered thee as chance would have it.’ He passed Bryce the goblet of water and thinking it best not to make further comment, he returned to his seat by the fire.

Bryce edged his way over to sit on the side of the bed facing Rhun. Any fool could tell the High King was tormented and if this deal Rhun had struck had something to do with his dis-ease, Bryce was not about to let his young friend carry the burden alone. ‘So thee recognised the weapon that wast pulled from my body?’

Rhun only nodded in response, as he finished off the mead in the goblet he’d left by the fire.

‘So… who do I have to kill?’ Bryce queried casually, whereby Rhun nearly choked on his drink.

‘Nay.’ He spat the excess liquid from his mouth into the fire. ‘It be my destiny to confront the man in question and not thine.’ Rhun was determined; Bryce had hit a nerve. ‘If I had only done away with him when first advised to do so, much of the recent debacle would have been avoided.’ When he saw the shock on Bryce’s face, Rhun knew he’d said too much.

‘Blain,’ Bryce uttered, devastated by the realisation. ‘Thy prophecy hast come to pass.’

Rhun was dumbfounded by the comment. ‘How did thee learn of it?’

‘Cai wast helping me spy on Blain following thy last visit to Arwystli. Thy prophecy had Blain scared out of his wits! Or so I thought.’ Bryce lowered his head to rest in his hands, his sorrow and shock turning his stomach.

‘It matters not if Blain fears the prediction.’ Rhun looked back to the fire, straining to keep the hurt from reflecting in his voice. ‘His actions have made the event inevitable … the Goddess and her folk want him dead.’

Bryce raised his head, barely able to believe that there was still a trace of remorse in the High King’s voice. ‘I can well understand why.’ He moved closer to the fire and crouched to speak more intimately with Rhun. ‘Even with all Blain hast put thee through, and I feel sure I am yet to discover the half of his crimes, still, thee would prefer to forgive him than bring him to justice?’

‘But am I not just as much to blame?’ Rhun stood, compelled by his belief.

‘Would thee pretend to be a lesser man than thou art, just so that my poor, fame-starved brother dost not have to feel himself inferior?’ Bryce rose to confront him. ‘Come on, Rhun … thou art the better warrior, scholar and friend, and always have been.’

‘That be the whole point, Bryce,’ he stressed. ‘Deep down thou hast always known that I am more than I appear to be.’ Rhun clarified his reasoning and Bryce could not argue the fact. ‘I am every bit the deceiver that Blain hast been forced to become, just to compete with me. But he aspires to an impossible dream. He never stood a chance of beating me and never will, and yet I encouraged his competition.’ His underlying guilt finally surfaced, as tears of remorse built in his eyes. ‘I drove him to this … when I should have had the foresight to see it coming.’ Rhun turned away and bracing his hands on his knees, he attempted to compose himself.

‘In that case, we all drove him to this,’ Bryce resolved, serenely. ‘The nature of Blain be competition. If the Goddess in her wisdom hast thrown the like of thee into his path, dost it not stand to reason that Blain had a lesson to learn from the encounter? A lesson that I am afraid he hast failed miserably … and that can be no soul’s fault but Blain’s own.’

As the High King raised himself to a standing position, his guilt left him with the realisation that Bryce had a point. ‘Then I shall make sure that he learns that lesson before he departs this earth.’ As Rhun turned back to Bryce, he was filled with renewed purpose. ‘As be damned if I intend to go through this with him again.’

Rhun visited the damp, musky chamber at Arwystli that had once played host to Vanora’s conjuring and more recently Selwyn’s poisoning, before dealing with the more grievous business he had to attend in the city this night.

All the vile scriptures that Vanora had penned whilst under the influence of the witch, Mahaud, Rhun piled high and then ignited with a torch. Three times in Gwynedd’s past the evil crone had reared her ugly head to wreak chaos upon the allied kingdoms. During Mahaud’s last reign of terror Javotte had lost her mother, Blain his father, and Rhun had lost his father indirectly. Thus the High King found it difficult to believe that Blain and Javotte would now be utilising the dark forces that had once cost them all so dearly. If they had started dabbling in the occult sciences, chances were it wouldn’t be too long before they attempted to conjure entities from the ethers to aid their cause. With less than pure intentions, the type of intelligences Javotte would attract would be like natured. The last thing the motherland needed was another lesser etheric world intelligence running around weaving sinister, supernatural mischief.

Never again, Rhun decided on the quiet, as he watched the corrupt literature disintegrate in the flames.

He fed the fire with all the potions and strange ingredients that were stored about the room and a thick smoke from all the parchment billowed forth, making the blaze appear worse than it truly was. As the door on the chamber was designed for keeping people out rather than locking people in, Rhun dropped the wooden barricade into the iron rungs provided on either side of the doorframe, to prevent it being opened from outside.

By now Selwyn would have transported Gareth’s wife and child safely home to Caernarvon. The Merlin was then to deliver Cai to the company of his brothers, Owen and Bryce, at Degganwy, where he was to await the High King’s return.

That ought to keep the household distracted for a bit.

Rhun looked over his smouldering handiwork before departing the scene of his diversion to seek out this evening’s true objective. He knew fate would ensure that his target was alone.

Of all the rooms at Arwystli that Blain could have been frequenting this evening, Rhun thought it ironic that he joined the King of Powys in the armoury. He was inspecting the latest batch of broadswords for his army, selecting the finest example to add to the hundreds of weapons that were already displayed around the walls of the massive room.

‘Looking to replace the sword thee left in thy brother?’ Rhun queried from some distance away and Blain jumped out of his skin.

‘How did thee get in here?’ The King of Powys gripped tight the hilt of the weapon he was inspecting.

‘By means … otherworldly,’ Rhun explained in a vexing fashion. ‘The Night Hunter hast sent me to fulfil my prophecy, Blain. Thee vowed to me that thee would never give me just cause to take thy life, and yet here I am to do just that,’ he announced sourly.

‘Well, once thee had voiced thy intent to murder me, it seemed a matter of destroy or be destroyed,’ Blain explained, wielding the sword he held as if limbering up to use it.

‘But by attacking the Goddess’ appointed —’

‘The Goddess abandoned us along with thy mother,’ Blain cut in. ‘Even the High Merlin be of little threat without her. Her Circle of Twelve hast all but dissolved and the council of the Goddess be in ruins —’

‘Elidyr died at Caernarvon, Blain, shortly after thee fled the scene.’ Rhun thought he’d best bring the King of Powys up to date on the state of the nation. ‘His kingdom will now be ruled by Urien …’

Blain’s eyes shot open wide with the news.

‘… who hast been engaged to the Princess of York. Talorg wast the only man slain at Riderich’s battle at Arfderydd, and Bridei now rules in Alban as wast meant. So, contrary to what thee might believe, the council of the Goddess be very much intact.’

Blain silently began to fume; surely it was not possible that Rhun had managed to thwart him on every front. ‘And who shall rule in Dyfed?’ he queried to spite his victor.

‘Why, Bryce of course,’ Rhun replied, casually.

‘Now I know thou art spinning tales.’ Blain pointed the tip of the sword toward the High King in challenge. ‘My brother’s wound was absolutely fatal.’

Rhun shook his head appearing amused. ‘Dear Blain, when art thou going to learn that when dealing with the Goddess there art no absolutes. By the power of the elements the great mother hast restored thy brother to health, for his death wast not meant … the same cannot be said for thee, however.’

‘I do not believe thee,’ he yelled, as if trying to convince himself.

‘Nay, Blain, I do not believe thee!’ Rhun moved forward to confront the warrior, who was now appearing decidedly spooked. And even though he was unarmed, Blain backed away from his advance. ‘After losing thy father to Mahaud’s madness, thee and thy wife would study her craft?’

‘What?’ Blain stopped still and held his ground. ‘I have done no such thing.’

‘Vanora’s coven, where Javotte hast slowly been poisoning thy merlin since last I saw thee, be ablaze as we speak!’ Rhun enlightened Blain to what he’d discovered. ‘Deny thee knew of it?’

‘I did not.’ Blain was dumbfounded. ‘Javotte told me she had sedated the merlin with a tonic, but I did not ask from whence the recipe came.’ His voice began to quiver. ‘I have noted a change in Javotte … and me,’ Blain confessed and as he looked to Rhun in dread, the sword unexpectedly dropped from his hand. Am I bewitched?

Blain did not voice his fear but Rhun heard it clear as a bell. ‘Hast Javotte given thee any gifts lately, something that thee might wear?’ As Rhun asked, he remembered the talisman tied around Blain’s wrist.

Blain was ahead of him, however, and ripping the band from his person, he cast it into the fireplace.

‘Now,’ Rhun confronted Blain again, who appeared as if he was awaking from a bad dream, ‘can thee tell me honestly why thou hast made war on me, he who hast been thy life-long friend? Why thou murdered thy brother in cold blood …’ Rhun continued to list Blain’s offences and the King of Powys became increasingly distressed, full of remorse for his recent deeds.

‘Javotte wanted to be High Queen so desperately.’ Blain took a stab at an explanation. ‘I have never seen her so excited as she wast before the election. But when the vote went thy way, she was devastated.’ Blain opened his mouth to continue, when the door to the armoury swung open and Javotte came storming in.

Unlike most of the women within the allied kingdoms, Javotte had maintained her warrior form since becoming a mother and Queen and thus had a formidable countenance about her. Her long, wild masses of unruly blonde curls had once softened her appearance, but these days they only added to her fiery presence. Her pale blue eyes had turned steely with scheming and disdain.

‘Someone hast set fire —’ Javotte recognised the other man present as Rhun and so immediately identified her mysterious arsonist. ‘It was thee,’ she gasped her accusation, wondering how much the High King had disclosed to her husband. ‘What lies hast he been feeding thee?’ She approached Blain swiftly to look him in the eye. ‘Thou art not to believe him.’

Blain held up his bare right wrist to enlighten her. ‘Thy command over me hast lessened, I am afraid,’ he informed her with great bitterness in his voice.

‘Nay!’ She was mortified at having been found out, as she truly adored her husband, but the look of betrayal and disappointment on his face told her that his devotion could never be the same again.

‘Am I not capable of making my own decisions?’ Blain entreated her to explain her lack of faith.

‘Nay, that wast not my reason for enchanting thee —’

‘Whatever thy reason,’ he spoke up over Javotte, ‘it hast cost us, my dear.’ He kissed his wife, which confused and frightened her.

‘Blain?’ She gazed up at him concerned, and the High King grabbed hold of her arm, as if taking her into custody.

‘It would seem that thou art the soul truly responsible for this dire stroke against the Goddess,’ Rhun concluded, ‘and thy life will atone for her loss just as nicely.’

‘Let go!’ Javotte freaked, and looked to her husband as she attempted to break free. ‘Art thou just going to allow him to kill me?’

Blain shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, I love thee too much. Please, Highness,’ Blain besought Rhun, going down on both knees before him. ‘If a life must be given, then let it be mine, in accordance with thy word.’

‘Nay!’ Javotte changed her tune abruptly, having expected Blain to fight Rhun, not surrender to him. ‘There can be no life for me without thee!’

‘And that shall be thy punishment.’ Rhun cast her aside, conforming to Blain’s will, resenting Javotte for making him her husband’s executioner.

As the Queen of Powys made a move to disrupt the proceedings, misty vapour-like forms began to manifest around her, taunting her into retreat. One of the forms retrieved the sword Blain had intended to run Rhun through with, and carried it forth to the High King’s hands.

‘Hast thee any final words.’ Rhun’s voice began to quiver as he took possession of the weapon, his official demeanour being swept away by personal emotion.

‘The desire to outdo everyone wast present in me long before this election,’ he confessed, to take responsibility for his own misdeeds and misguided thoughts, which had only been enhanced by his wife’s conjuring. ‘I am sorry for the grief we have caused the Goddess, for deep down I only ever wanted to be pleasing in her eyes, and thine.’

‘And so thou art, Blain,’ Rhun’s sword hand began to tremble under the duress of his distress. ‘Thy willingness to atone for thy shortcomings be most pleasing to the Great Mother.’

‘Brothers?’ Blain questioned hopefully.

‘Forever.’ Rhun gave a firm nod to assure Blain.

The ghostly figures held Javotte firmly and so she was forced to witness her beloved executed in her stead. ‘Nay Highness, do not take him from me!’ she cried in protest.

‘See thee in the next life, my friend,’ assured Rhun, whereby Blain bowed his head low and Rhun brought the sword down to fulfil the prophecy.

Still in the grip of the gut-wrenching conclusion, I found myself returned to my meditation chamber, gasping with shock. Rhun had, thankfully, ended his recording just short of the beheading, but the climax had been rather heart stopping all the same.

Now I understood why he hesitated to make Asher privy to the tale, and why Rhun hesitated to encourage his son’s competitiveness. This chronicle had also provided a rather interesting insight into young Ragan.

‘The little so and so poisoned me —’ which I felt justified in resenting, just a little. I considered it could do her some good to view this chronicle, as she might think twice about manipulating others and I felt sure it would greatly alter her perception of Asher. ‘Could be a little harsh as is,’ I mused, observing the orb containing the dark tale I’d just viewed. I would wait and see how the final dress rehearsal for the pageant went before deciding how much of a rude awakening Ragan required at this time.

She had been very professional about her production duties since our run-in, and had apologised to Asher as I’d requested. Outside of their participation in the play, however, Ragan had been giving Asher the cold shoulder, using her commitments to the production as an excuse for avoiding him. On stage, Ragan played up her attraction to her leading man, regarding him as Tory would regard Maelgwn in real life. During each romantic scene the fireworks flew right up until the kiss in the script, whereupon Ragan would skip over it saying they would work it out at the final dress rehearsal. I had to feel for poor Asher, whom I felt sure had only pursued the lead role in the play so as to steal a kiss from the leading lady. He’d put in a hell of a lot of hard work and reaped very little reward for his efforts. The control Ragan had over her young admirer was disturbing to consider in light of the chronicle I’d just viewed. She still brought out his competitive nature and used his undying devotion to bend him to her will.

Not that it was my place to be sorting out the personal affairs of my students. Now that Rhun had returned I was hoping he would have some advice for his son in this regard. I would enlighten him to the situation when we met in the next few days.

26

The Kiss

The final dress rehearsal took place on the eve of the last day of the holidays, which would commem orate the fiftieth anniversary of our fair city.

Tonight we were no longer in the university auditorium, but out in the huge open-air amphitheatre located at the very heart of Chailida, within the extensive gardens of the city’s central island ring. Tomorrow night this huge area would be consumed by the picnicking masses who would throng here for what promised to be a gala night of entertainment and celebration.

After months of preparation, all the sets, props, costumes, music and talent came together on the one stage, and I must say that I was most impressed with my students, for they had truly excelled themselves.

I sat, front of stage, watching the performance in progress, when I sensed someone in close proximity and glancing across I found Rhun. I was so used to seeing him in his space garb, I hardly recognised him in his holiday attire. He appeared a new man for having had a few days at leisure with his family. ‘Home life obviously agrees with you.’ I stood to shake his hand. ‘Thanks for coming down.’

‘I planned to in any case,’ Rhun advised as he shook my hand and looked over at his son who was on stage. ‘Asher has been having a few girl problems. He asked me to come down for a bit of moral support this evening.’ He uttered an aside in a whisper … ‘The big kiss.’

‘So Asher has told you what has been going on?’ I was greatly relieved to learn.

‘Oh yes,’ he emphasised the fact. ‘Asher and I have done a lot confiding in each other in the past few days.’ Rhun turned back to look at me. ‘We have not been this close since I recognised Blain’s soul-mind in my son at age five and Javotte’s soul-mind in his playmate. The thought of them together again,’ he shook his head and then shrugged. ‘I just didn’t want to know.’

‘Well, I can understand why it might have been a little daunting,’ I granted. ‘I did not become aware of the connection myself until just recently, as I have not worked on any of the chronicles concerning Blain and Javotte for a long time. Since before Asher and Ragan were born, in fact.’

‘Asher recognised himself in King Blain of Powys after his first viewing of the chronicles on my rise to King of Gwynedd. He suspected all along that something that had happened later in life between Blain and myself was what was causing me to keep my distance from him in this one. Asher planned to investigate the era himself, as soon as he came of age to study past-life regression.’

Eighteen years of age was considered mature enough to begin one’s personal study into one’s past lives, although students were not permitted to pursue this study unsupervised until they were closer to twenty-five.

‘Kids!’ Rhun rolled his eyes to emphasise his surprise. Still, he was pleased that he’d fronted up to his son with the truth and thus Asher had not been forced to experience the instance first-hand and unprepared. ‘Having dared to go back and look at the past myself, I realise that they paid out the karma for their mistakes in that lifetime. Javotte went mad after Blain’s execution and lived a miserable existence until she died of old age shut up in a tower … I thought it rather more tactful to omit that part.’

‘I quite agree.’ I seconded his judgement with a nod.

‘Anyway, the two souls in question have joined the ranks of the Chosen and are bound to be of more aid to each other in this lifetime.’

I raised my brow hoping he was right.

‘So, I wanted to thank you,’ Rhun ventured a little shyly, ‘for helping us confront the past and rekindle a great friendship that Asher and I were both needlessly missing.’

I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t done anything. It had been Asher’s curiosity that had ultimately sparked the investigation. ‘I really don’t —’

‘I have resigned my position as head of deep space exploration,’ he said, whereupon my jaw dropped to the ground. ‘You’re looking at the new head of deep space information, research and technology,’ he announced, seeming pleased with the change of vocation.

‘Congratulations.’ I shook his hand again. ‘I feel sure Asher will benefit greatly from your presence here during the next few years.’

‘I hope so,’ he admitted, obviously proud to be doing the right thing by his son. ‘My place is here, with my family.’ He nodded in agreement with himself and looked back to his son, who was stealing the show. ‘I do believe I deserve a little happiness after all.’

‘No doubt of it,’ I emphasised.

As I stood there, warmed by the knowledge that my chronicles had again helped to heal a hidden, seething rift from the past, I looked to the stage and realised that the dialogue was speeding towards the kiss.

Ragan ran across the painted desert stage and embraced Asher. ‘I must be dreaming.’

‘This is no dream,’ Asher assured her and pulling back to look at her, he moved in to receive the long-awaited kiss from her lips. Our young hero was rather disappointed when the encounter was over in a second.

‘Do you two need a private room or something?’ The young lad who was playing Robin recited his line and then looked to Ragan perplexed. ‘Hang on. You’re supposed to kiss him long enough for me to get my line out.’

‘That’s right.’ Asher took hold of Ragan. ‘I think we should try that again.’ He pulled her close and stole a kiss altogether more meaningful, which continued a bit too long to be entirely against Ragan’s will.

When our two stars parted, Ragan slapped Asher’s face hard and stormed from the stage.

‘Here we go again!’ I bashed my head with the palm of my hand, frustrated.

‘That’s my boy … subtle as a brick in the jaw.’ Rhun cocked an eye, rather amused. ‘Javotte and Blain were exactly the same before they wed.’

‘Terrific! So how do I get these two souls aiding each other, as you predict they should?’ I sought any constructive advice. ‘I had thought of giving Ragan your chronicle to view.’ I ran that idea by him.

‘Asher has viewed it,’ Rhun clued me in, ‘and for him it seemed to clarify a great many things. I can’t see that it would do Ragan any harm to see herself at her worst and it certainly couldn’t hurt Asher’s cause any.’

I played with my extended bottom lip, as I mulled over my options.

‘Ragan did ask for it, Noah,’ Rhun added, to subtly egg me on.

‘She did, didn’t she’ I reserved my final decision, moving off toward the backstage area. ‘I’d best go attend to our prima donna.’

‘I shall see you tomorrow night.’ Rhun gave me a wave in parting. ‘Good luck with it all.’

‘The show will go on,’ I assured.

‘I’m sorry, En Noah,’ Asher met me in the wings, looking genuinely remorseful about what had happened. ‘I suppose that was a bit unprofessional … I shall apologise, if you think it will help.’ He looked a bit doubtful that it would.

‘It will be fine, Asher,’ I declined, thinking I’d best distance him from the drama. ‘Get Rai’s understudy, Salome, to stand in for her and continue with the rehearsal. We don’t want to hold up the rest of the acts that are waiting for the stage.’

‘Yes, En Noah.’ He reluctantly departed to carry out my bidding.

I found Ragan brooding in the dressing room that was reserved for our production and as our cast and crew were all onstage, the large space was abandoned at present.

‘Are you going to tell me what the problem is?’ I straddled a chair backwards and sat down endeavouring to be patient.

‘It’s personal.’ She emerged from behind her tissue to inform me, with a sniffle.

‘I figured,’ said I, urging her to go on.

‘It won’t make any sense,’ Ragan stood to insist, frustrated by her predicament. ‘But … it’s just so humiliating!’

‘The kiss, you mean?’ I sought clarification and she nodded. ‘But Ragan you wrote the script. There are several kisses in it.’

‘I know!’ she stressed, forced to blow her nose again. ‘Which only adds to my humiliation.’

I was frowning now. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow.’

‘Don’t you see? He’s won! This has been an ongoing game with Asher and me … he’s forever trying to steal my favours, which I am not prepared to give,’ she insisted like the angel she wasn’t. ‘And instead of just taking no for an answer, Asher pulls this stunt, whereby I am forced to oblige him.’

As suspected, it wasn’t that she didn’t like the lad, so much as she didn’t like being outsmarted by him. ‘You did not have to play the role of Tory, Ragan. If you are not capable acting the role for personal reasons, then perhaps you should allow your understudy to take over.’ I felt like a real heel suggesting that she could be replaced so easily, for in truth Ragan could act rings around every other girl involved in the production.

Ragan came crashing back down to earth, ego in tatters. ‘Perhaps I should,’ she conceded, humbly. Her hurt caused real tears to build in her eyes and she moved to pass me to escape out the door.

‘Wait.’ I grabbed hold of her hand and placed the orb I’d been brooding over into it. ‘Go home, view this, and then give me your decision.’

‘En Noah?’ She sniffled, looking at the orb, confused that I would be giving her school work to do in the middle of an emotional crisis.

‘I think that it may aid you to better assess your situation,’ I explained.

‘As you wish, En Noah.’ Ragan gathered up her belongings and left.

As she walked out the door I considered warning Ragan that the material on the orb might come as a shock, or suggesting that I supervise her viewing of the chronicle, but I did not. I hated to think that the karmic resentment of a merlin for being poisoned was what made me reluctant to cushion Ragan’s fall in this instance. It was more like some inner voice telling me that my part in this affair was over and it was time to let the universe take it from here.

Kila’s Logos, Eshmah, turned on a glorious day for Chailida’s big anniversary celebration. The sky was completely clear and its aquamarine colour was as deep and luminous as ever I had seen it.

From my balcony I soaked up the warm morning rays. The city below was already congested with crowds, music, dancing and street theatre. Out on the fourth island ring, swarms of craft were waiting to dock and unload interstellar tourists, who had come for the festivities of the day and the concert that Chailida was hosting this evening.

I had no obligations today, bar overseeing the proceedings of my students’ presentation this evening, so I was pretty much at leisure to do as I pleased. ‘What a crying shame Rebecca had to work.’ The notion was a bit of a downer, so I quickly reminded myself that I still had a whole month of her company to look forward to.

I fixed myself an icy, semi-alcoholic fruit concoction to commence my day of leisure on a merry note, and found myself wondering about Selwyn and Kaileah. Had they married and reared the next King of Alban?

‘I shall investigate, now that I have some time,’ I promised myself, placing on my eyeshades and collapsing into my sun-chair with my drink. ‘Ah … perfect,’ I decided, the sun pelting down upon my bare chest as I sipped the icy cold cocktail. I could not have been more contented; so naturally, the chime on my front door sounded to rouse me from my bliss.

My heart leapt into my throat when I espied Ragan waiting outside my door on the screen that monitored the exterior. I’d completely forgotten about requesting to see her. I pulled my shirt on properly, trying to assess her state of mind from the visual, and once decent, I dispensed with the barrier and invited her inside.

‘These are for you, En Noah.’ Ragan handed me a huge bunch of flowers that she’d been hiding behind her back. ‘For poisoning you in the Dark Ages,’ she explained with a shrug of apology.

‘Really, Ragan.’ I accepted the flowers from her. ‘That is all in the past and forgotten.’ I assured her to not think twice about it, although admittedly I had.

‘I’ll bet that’s not what you were thinking yesterday.’ Ragan prompted me to be a little more up front with her. ‘I see myself for the spoilt, manipulative child I have been,’ she admitted quite readily, tears welling from her disappointment in herself. ‘There wouldn’t be a life for me without Asher … nor would I wish there to be. I realise that presenting me with the raw version of this chronicle was not standard procedure, En Noah,’ she ventured to say.

Ragan was quite right. The chronicle as it was should have been for mature students only, and for a moment I thought she might be going to hit me with a lawsuit. This wouldn’t have been difficult to do, as her father, Cadwallon, was the Chief Justice in Chailida.

‘I am really very grateful that you considered me mature enough to be privy to it.’ Ragan ran over and unexpectedly embraced me. I even received a kiss on the cheek as she returned the orb.

‘I will play Tory Alexander if it’s all the same to you.’ She sniffled back her emotion and backed up to the door.

‘And you will do her justice,’ I replied.

Ragan burst into a huge smile and, with a squeal of delight, she departed my abode. I felt rather like I’d just been hit by a tornado, but given a second to consider the encounter, I smiled — I’d done the right thing after all.

It was coming on to evening, and having loafed about for most of the day, I wandered down to centre stage to be sure all our little dramas had sorted themselves out.

As I entered the backstage area, Ragan came running up to me, appearing far more anxious than was usual for her. ‘En Noah, have you seen Asher? I’ve been looking for him all day and nobody has seen him.’ All of a sudden the girl’s expression iced over and as her eyes became fixed on something behind me, they narrowed with contempt.

I turned to find young Asher strolling through the gate with his arm around Salome, Ragan’s understudy — he was lost in a very cosy conversation with the shapely girl.

‘Well, I don’t have a problem with kissing you,’ said his gloating blonde companion, who was several years older than him. ‘Not even just for practice.’

I had to wince as Salome kissed Asher, and daring to glance aside to Ragan, I found her quietly fuming.

‘En Noah. Would you kindly inform En Romeo that I shall be playing his heroine and that I am sorry if he finds this very disappointing?’

To my surprise she departed for the dressing room quietly and without a fuss. I looked back to find Asher watching her depart also.

‘I do believe it’s working,’ said Salome, patting the lad’s shoulder in encouragement.

‘Thanks so much for your help.’ Asher tried to give her a few gold coins for her trouble, but Salome waved them off.

‘Hey sweetie, it was my pleasure.’ She grabbed hold of his chin and kissed his cheek. ‘The silly tease doesn’t know what she’s missing.’ Salome winked and headed off to be about her duties.

I do believe Asher was more miffed with himself at this moment than when he’d stolen the lead in the play. How could I tell him he was going about winning Ragan in the wrong way?

‘En Noah.’ Asher finally acknowledged my presence and approached to explain his deception. ‘I realise this probably looks bad … but I was just following a little fatherly advice.’

I suppressed a smile. ‘I believe you.’ This kind of scheme was not something Asher would hatch, but it was right up his father’s alley. ‘Well, I think you might do better —’

‘Trust me, En Noah,’ Asher cut in, not meaning to be rude, but he was running late for make-up and wardrobe. ‘Everything is going exactly to plan … don’t worry about a thing.’ He hurried off to assume his character.

‘Dear Goddess, I’m too old for this,’ I complained to myself. Still, I had to find their predicament amusing. ‘Let them sort it out.’ I waved off all responsibility and headed back out into the main amphitheatre that was fast filling with people.

There was an area reserved for this evening’s guests of honour — the Governor and Governess of Chailida, and their family and guests. As an honorary member of the Dragon’s kin, I had been invited to sit with them.

To my great honour and surprise I arrived at the family feast to discover that Tory had saved me a spot on the picnic blanket right next to her.

Everyone was there: Rhun and Sybil, Rhiannon and Cadwallon, Brian and Candace, Cadwell and Nerida, Ethan and Talynn, Robin and Jenny, Floyd and Boadicea. It reminded me of when we had all first arrived on Kila and been forced to live in each other’s pockets whilst more suitable accommodation was constructed. The food and drink was outstanding, the company and conversation excellent — the one thing that was missing was Rebecca.

I kept expecting my wife to show up and surprise me, but she did not. I consoled myself with the fact that the crowds would have driven her nuts anyway, as Rebecca was an ‘in the middle of nowhere’ kind of girl.

The acts that preceded our pageant were of very high quality indeed, and I felt confident that so long as our two stars didn’t tear each other to shreds during the performance, our production ought to slay this very receptive audience.

Music wafted over the huge gathering during the break between acts when the stage was reset. I was merrily feasting on fresh fruit, cheese and bread, when Maelgwn clicked his fingers to draw my attention to him and then beckoned me to approach.

Thus I picked up my spoils and headed around to the other side of our fair ruler, where I took a seat. ‘Yes, Gov,’ I ventured to be casual, as I was a little tipsy by this time.

‘I’ve been doing a little past-life regression into Durak’s professional activities,’ Maelgwn said, casually, as if we weren’t discussing a dangerous topic.

‘You have?’ I took huge bite out of the hunk of bread in my hand.

‘Aye,’ Maelgwn leaned closer to whisper, ‘and I have a fair idea of how one of the stations Durak spoke of might be found.’

My jaw dropped — I understood these stations to be like hidden vaults of knowledge containing the chronicles of Enki’s prophecies and scriptures. My life’s work would always be incomplete without an insight into the very beginning of mankind, as none of the Chosen had sprung from that time, nor could any of us recall much of our lives spent in the earliest ages that had marked the development of mankind’s intellect. Enki’s chronicles had been black-banned by the Pantheon for eons and if legend proved true, they contained information channelled straight from the Interplanetary Chain Logoi.

‘Please, Noah,’ Tory paused from her conversation with her daughter to plead, ‘not with your mouth full.’

‘Sorry,’ I chewed up the rest of my mouthful and swallowed it quickly. ‘I really hope you are kidding?’ I said quietly to Maelgwn with a smile, unable to deny my interest, despite the trouble it could get me into.

Maelgwn sucked in his cheeks to contain his smile as he shook his head slowly to confirm he spoke the truth.

I rubbed my forehead, disgruntled by the temptation this presented. ‘Surely you’re not thinking of seeking —,’ I dropped my voice to whisper, ‘— one of these stations. As such a public figure, I’m sure the Pantheon will be keeping a close eye on your movements.’

‘That’s why you are going to do it for me,’ he smiled.

‘What!’ I managed to draw everyone’s attention with my startled cry.

‘Relax.’ Maelgwn placed a hand on my shoulder, struggling to contain his amusement. ‘I don’t mean now.’

‘When then?’ I hushed my voice again.

‘Soon,’ was all he said, taking a long sip of his drink.

I figured the information was meant as an early warning. ‘So I had better start brushing up on my rebel merlin skills then?’

‘It couldn’t hurt.’ Maelgwn shrugged, as if that wasn’t what he was implying, although obviously it was.

As my students took the stage, many of whom had proud parents in my company, I returned to my original place and an excited Tory clutched my hand.

The past came to life before our eyes, and I watched the emotions of all around me hyped into a frenzy of warm sentiment and laughter.

There was an intermission in our pageant immediately following the moment when the first key kiss took place. As the script raced towards the crucial moment, Rhun and I sat forward in anticipation.

Ragan ran across the painted desert stage and embraced Asher. ‘I must be dreaming.’ She pulled back to look him in the eyes.

‘This is no dream,’ Asher assured her, and holding her face between both his hands, their lips met in a splendid kiss.

A great ‘Aw!’ was heard from the audience and a gentle round of applause broke out.

Tory had let go of my hand and was now cuddling her husband as she sniffled back her sentimental tears.

‘Do you two need a private room or something?’ The young lad playing Robin recited his line, whereupon Asher and Ragan were supposed to part from their kiss and say, ‘Yes, please,’ but alas, they just kept kissing.

‘Oh dear,’ said I, as the other actors continued to recite their lines around the kissing cousins, which only added to the humour of the play.

‘Would you kindly get your son off my daughter,’ Cadwallon thumped Rhun and then me. ‘What kind of university are you running down there, Purcell?’

‘And how do I apply to get in?’ Brian played up his interest, until struck by his wife.

As the curtain came down I thought I’d best go throw a bucket of cold water over my stars and see if I couldn’t pry them apart. ‘Excuse I.’ I begged everyone’s leave, and hurried off to the stage.

I found the star-crossed lovers still embracing, although the crew had managed to shift them off the stage so as to change the set.

‘So you have seen the orb?’ Asher queried Ragan, as I neared.

Ragan nodded as tears of happiness made her make-up run in black rivers down her cheeks. ‘I never meant to hurt you. You are my best and dearest friend,’ she vowed. ‘I cannot believe you just volunteered your life in my stead like that.’

‘I would die for you, Ragan.’ Asher kissed the love of his life to reinforce his conviction. ‘A thousand times over.’

‘Praise the Gods that you shall never again have to.’

As their lips and bodies locked together in a rather heated engagement and people were queuing up to watch the two lead actors, I thought I’d best break them up.

‘The Governor and Governess have told me to convey how much they are looking forward to the second half of our pageant.’ As suspected the announcement made the stars part of their own accord.

‘We’d better get on.’ Ragan pulled herself away.

‘I’ll see you after.’ Asher kissed her once more before Ragan was ushered away to wardrobe. The lad then turned to face me, fit to explode with happiness. ‘I’ve got to tell you, En Noah, I love show business!’

‘And I’ve got to tell you, Asher,’ I smiled as I took him under my arm to confide in him, ‘that after this little fiasco, I can do without it.’

The rest of the performance went off without a hitch, leaving the fair rulers of our kingdom overwhelmed with sentiment and very proud of their grandchildren.

When the concert had ended and a huge fireworks display bedazzled us all, our good Governor sprang to his feet to announce to the family that Tory was again with child.

Congratulations, handshakes, hugs and kisses were exchanged under the midnight sky ablaze with colour.

I waited until Tory had hugged her entire family and settled back down beside me before I turned to her, of the mind to congratulate her myself. ‘It will be twins, a boy and a girl,’ I said, only half conscious of the words leaving my mouth. ‘Unique in their purpose.’

‘And what will their purpose be?’ Tory queried, enchanted by my prediction, as it was so unlike me.

‘Pardon?’ I’d completely forgotten what I’d just said and felt terribly embarrassed. ‘My apologies, Nin. I fear I might have had one too many fruity drinks this day.’

Tory laughed at this and gave me an affectionate squeeze. ‘Well, my dear Noah, only time will tell if you are a prophet or a drunk.’

‘I think the latter,’ I humbly voiced my view.

The celebrations continued into the wee hours and I am completely unaware of what time I staggered into my unit to fall onto a lounge chair.

Seeking my true worth was foremost in my mind thanks to Maelgwn advising me that I was soon to start playing intergalactic spy for him. If I was to be hunting up some ancient scriptures from who knows where, perhaps, just as important as upgrading my Chosen skills, it would not go astray to be learning a few survival skills as well.

Perhaps this was where Rebecca’s talents fitted in with our soul-quest. In fact I felt sure of it. So rather than having my wife spend more time with me in the city, I should be spending more time with her in the jungle. Actually, this thought was very alluring and I knew it would appeal to her too.

The other thing that had me puzzled was my fit of unconscious babbling to Tory. I still hadn’t the slightest clue what I’d said to the Governess and I only hoped that I hadn’t sounded too moronic.

A hand came to cover my eyes and I caught a fragrant whiff of my wife.

‘Rebecca?’ I smiled, turning to find her squatted down beside me, dressed in a slinky white dress and holding two glasses. I groaned at the thought of another drink.

‘No?’ she queried, sounding like she had sort of expected I might not wish to partake.

‘Now I know why I never drink,’ I mumbled an explanation as I got myself upright. ‘I embarrass myself … and tonight more so than usual.’

‘Knowing you, I’m sure you weren’t that bad.’ Rebecca climbed onto the lounge beside me. I lowered my head to rest against her breast and she stroked my hair.

‘I was,’ I assured, nestling into my favourite position. ‘I started spouting prophecy to the Governess.’

‘You did?’ Rebecca wrenched me from my comfortable position to an upright one again. ‘I have started seeing things,’ she informed in all seriousness. ‘That’s why I came home as soon as I could.’

‘Really?’ I was stunned. ‘What kind of things?’

‘It’s a place, actually. A crystal city,’ she ventured to say, knowing how fantastic it sounded. ‘And in this city is a learning device unlike anything I have ever seen before.’

I took up the drink from the table and began to sip it, intrigued. ‘Then how do you know this thing is a learning device?’

‘In the vision, you told me so,’ she informed. ‘You said something about forbidden scripture —’

I nearly choked on the drink.

‘Are you alright?’ Rebecca queried, and I nodded, still coughing and spluttering. ‘So I was thinking that perhaps I should stay here with you in the city for awhile and do some study.’

So, the universe had been urging my significant other toward pursuing her soul also, and she had reached the same conclusion as I had — we needed to be together. ‘I think we shall have to work out a half-yearly exchange deal between our worlds,’ I smiled.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ she winked, and cuddled up close to me.

I leant my head against hers and kissed her forehead, whereupon a verse welled up inside me, an odd occurrence indeed, and it did so want to be aired that I obliged.

Under the full moon of the Goddess

In a circle of sacred stones

On a cloak of raven feathers

I have made thee my own.

Not wind of greatest force,

Nor wild and raging sea,

Not mountain high or howling wind

Will part my love from me.

Rebecca turned and looked at me and I do believe that I had never seen her so moved. She was completely lost for words.

‘It worked for Selwyn,’ I shrugged off my little poetic outburst.

‘He never,’ she called my bluff. ‘You composed something romantic and it was beautiful. Thank you.’

The kiss I received in appreciation told me it was well worthwhile developing a knack for romantic rhyme.

We talked about our soul-quest at great length that night, and I began to see a whole new chapter in our relationship that I very much liked the look of. At last, my wife and I had found a common cause, and as Rebecca was to be my constant travelling companion, I felt sure that I would very much enjoy the next big adventure the universe held in store.

Bibliography

Berresford-Ellis, Peter, Dictionary of Celtic Mythology, Constable & Co, London, 1992.

Bletzer, June G., Encyclopedic Psychic Dictionary, Donning Co, Virginia, 1986.

Coghlam, Ronan, An Illustrated Encylopaedia of Arthurian Legends, Element Books, Dorset, 1993.

Fletcher, Richard, The Conversion of Europe, HarperCollinsPublishers, London, 1998.

Hope, Murry, Practical Celtic Magic, Aquarian, London, 1987.

Morris, John, The Age of Arthur, Orion Books Limited, London, 1995.

Palmer, Martin & Nigel, Sacred Britain, Judy Piatkus (Publishers) Ltd, London, 1997.

Powell, A. E., The Solar System, Health Research, 1985.

Acknowledgments

With every new book I write there are more and more people who contribute to its realisation. I must state, for the record, that this trilogy was brought into being by all those avid readers of The Ancient Future who refused to believe the tale of the Chosen had ended. Each one of your letters and emails has in some way contributed to this book. You were all quite right to believe, for the adventures of the Chosen have only just begun.

I must thank my family and friends for seeing me through another year and another story — especially my husband, David, who continues to defy the imagination with his artwork for my tales. David’s aid with the upbringing of our beautiful daughter, Sarah, during the past year has been essential to the completion of this book. I would not have made the deadline without the cooperation and support of my loving little family unit.

I am forever grateful to my editors, Sue and Stephanie, for ploughing their way through another tale of epic proportions — only two more to go girls. On the research front, I would like to acknowledge the efforts of Anwen Pierce at the National Library of Wales, who chased up ancient place names for me that were long lost in history. Many thanks also to Caiseal Mòr for saving me days of research with every email.

I am deeply indebted to my agent, Selwa Anthony, and my publishers, HarperCollins, for their continued efforts in promoting me.

About the Author

Traci Harding lives on a quiet acre of bushland on the Hawkesbury River, with her exceedingly talented husband, David, and their beautiful two-year-old daughter, Sarah.

After the success of The Ancient Future Trilogy, and the overwhelming reader demand for more adventures with Tory Alexander and co., Traci Harding is currently sitting in her office overlooking the river and mountains beyond, in deep contemplation of the continuing affairs of the ‘Chosen Ones’.

Book One of the Trilogy, The Ancient Future: the Dark Age was published in 1996; Book Two, An Echo In Time: Atlantis was published in 1997; and Book Three, Masters of Reality: the Gathering in 1998.

Traci’s fourth book, The Alchemist’s Key, was released in June 1999.

Feel free to write to Traci Harding at the following email address: hardingd@ozemail.com.au.

Or visit her on the World Wide Web at the site of ‘Artisus’: http://www.ozemail.com.au/˜hardingd

OTHER BOOKS BY TRACI HARDING

The Ancient Future Trilogy

The Ancient Future: the Dark Age (Book One)

An Echo in Time: Atlantis (Book Two)

Masters of Reality: the Gathering (Book Three)

The Alchemist’s Key

Copyright

Voyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, Australia

First published in 2000
This edition published in 2011
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ACN 009 913 517
http://www.harpercollins.com.au

Text copyright © Traci Harding 2000

The right of Traci Harding to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

HarperCollinsPublishers
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

Harding, Traci.
Chronicle of ages.
Bibliography.
ISBN 978 0 7322 6675 2 (pbk).
ISBN 978 0 7304 9973 2 (epub)
I. Title
A823.3

Maps by David Harding