The Bwy Hir Complete Trilogy Read online

Her father smiled at her and patted her duvet covered legs, ‘As long as you’re happy Anwen, that’s all that matters.’ He leaned forward and kissed her forehead exactly where Taliesin had kissed her hours before and Anwen felt another rush of guilt. ‘Love you, Dad.’

  ‘Love you too, Anwen. Goodnight.’ Her father slipped out of the door, closing it gently behind him.

  Anwen lay back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Her bedside lamp filled the room with a soft yellow glow. The pink and white wallpaper, her patchwork bedspread and the white drawn curtains all softened in the buttery light making the room feel cosy and safe, but she had a gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach. It was a sickly mix of guilt, sentiment and anxiety that stole her feeling of contentment, replacing it with insecurity and self-loathing.

  She hated lying to her father, she despised being separated from Taliesin, but most of all she knew deep down that what she and Taliesin were doing was forbidden and if they were found out, her father would never forgive her.

  She tutted when she heard Gwyn stumbling up the stairs. He’d probably fallen asleep on the sofa, again. She heard his door shut and then listened to the house settle and creak, accompanied by the sound of Gwyn’s snoring and the ticking of the hallway clock.

  Anwen finally leaned over and turned her lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. No light pollution ever reached the farm; no streetlights, no car lights, no lights at all, just inky blackness shrouding the farm, quieting the animals and bringing an unbroken peace. Anwen fell straight to sleep and her last conscious thought was of Taliesin and whether he was thinking of her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Silvery clouds drifted across the moon and plunged the wooded pathway into darkness. The sudden blackness was not a problem for Taliesin, he could see as clearly as if it was day. He had been summoned by his mother and as he walked into the candlelit clearing where she held court he immediately bent on one knee and bowed his head.

  Kneeling on the forest floor Taliesin inhaled the evening air. He could smell the earthy scent of pine needles beneath him, the sharp tang of borage mixed with the heady aroma of light scented stock and dew trimmed fern; a potent fusion of Summer’s evening.

  Mab Rhedyn Haf, Queen of the Summer Realm, Arch Orphanim of the Bwy Hir sat on a low canopy woven together to form a throne. The branches interlaced together to form a magnificent arched emerald display above her head. She held a silver goblet in her right hand, swilling the contents in a circular motion while watching her son with an arched eyebrow. She was much taller than Taliesin, all the Bwy Hir were. He was still considered a child among them, and in Bwy Hir terms he still was. He was yet to gain his full height and radiance; he still looked Human and he was yet to gain the Triskele tattoo above his right ear, marking him as full Bwy Hir and rightful member of the Host.

  She allowed him to kneel for quite some time before dismissing her retinue, keeping only her most trusted advisor Awel behind. Mab and Awel glanced at each other and then Awel raised her voice. ‘Taliesin ap Aeron, rise and greet your Queen.’ Taliesin stood and approached his mother, kissing her on her outstretched hand before finally raising his head.

  Mab’s smile did not reach her eyes, and with a sudden flash of temper, for which she was renowned, she hurled her goblet across the clearing and into the shadows beyond.

  ‘You, my son,’ she spat, ‘are a fool!’ Taliesin flinched slightly as his mother rose from her throne. ‘What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you have done?’ Mab’s corset strained at its laces as if trying to contain her temper. She clawed at her skirts and began pacing the forest floor. She spun at Taliesin’s silence and pointed a jewel encrusted finger in his direction. ‘If your father finds out, if he even suspects …’ Mab’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘How could you even contemplate … what possessed you to seize a Human, have we not learned from our forefathers? The rape of a Human is unforgiveable!’

  Taliesin spun on his mother. ‘How dare you!’ he blazed. ‘I did not take Anwen, she gave her consent as I gave mine, we are in love mother – I would not harm her.’

  ‘Love?’ his mother yelled, ‘How can she love you, Taliesin? She doesn’t even know what you are, what you will become, not to mention what you must have done to be capable of rutting a Human woman.’

  Awel raised her hand and interrupted, ‘Mab, enough! I suggest you lower your voice unless you do want Aeron to find out.’ Mab glared at Awel before throwing herself into her throne and silently fuming.

  Mab was considered the most beautiful of the Bwy Hir, despite the Bwy Hir being numbered only in double figures now; she was still outstandingly beautiful, even by Human standards.

  Mab’s hair was the same colour as her son’s, a deep velvety black. Hers was not shaved on both sides, only above her left ear where her black Triskele tattoo showed, the same as all adult Bwy Hir, only the males wore theirs on their right.

  Intricate braids laced with golden threads pulled her hair over to cascade down her right side to her waist. Her skin was the same as all the Bwy Hir: white, flawless. Her eyes were large black pools rimmed with charcoal to accentuate their almond shape. Her full lips were emphasized with beet and beeswax to give a bee-sting pout.

  Awel in contrast was an Albino, a common trait among the Bwy Hir. Her white hair was fashioned in the same style as Mab’s, the way all Bwy Hir females wore their hair. The exception was that only Mab wore gold in her tresses, all the others wore silver threads in their braids. Awel had tiny silver acorns threaded into the ends of her hair that tinkled when she moved quickly. Awel’s eyes were the colour of Welsh slate and rimmed with red. She was much older than Mab and yet her flawless skin denied her age, another trait of the Bwy Hir: they appeared ageless, eternal.

  With a sigh Awel patted Taliesin’s shoulder and bade him to sit on the dais next to his mother. ‘Before anything else is said Taliesin, you should know two things: one, your mother was wind casting when she stumbled upon your indiscretion this afternoon …’

  Taliesin visibly winced and Mab wrinkled her nose in disgust at her son. ‘Secondly,’ Awel continued, ‘your father has woken early, he paces the Halls of the Druids as we speak.’

  Taliesin snatched his breath at the news. He feared his father, but more, he feared what would happen to Anwen and her family if his father found out what Taliesin had been up to; the Winter King was ever merciless.

  ‘Not only have you endangered yourself and your little courtesan, not to mention her family, but you have potentially damaged my reign and imperilled Awel with your seed sowing… and just to add insult to injury, you have done something that could shake the very foundations of the Bwy Hir … Anwen of Ty Mawr is pregnant.’

  Mab had kept that piece of news to herself. Awel’s jaw dropped open and her face drained of all colour. Taliesin looked at his mother as if she had lost her mind, the one-blood didn’t mix, Halflings weren’t possible. Throughout history it had been proven that any attempt to interbreed with Humans caused miscarriage.

  Awel sat heavily onto the dais staring into space. ‘Oh yes, Awel,’ Mab hissed, ‘I told you that one would come back and bite you. You’d better pray we can keep this secret. I already grow tired, my powers wane, soon I will be able to render no protection to either of you or the concubine. She is of Ty Mawr, is she not?’ Mab asked her son and he nodded. ‘Being the daughter of the Chosen will offer her little protection if she is found out.’

  Mab stood leaving Awel and Taliesin sitting like gargoyles on the edge of her dais. She lifted her slender hands to her mouth and cupping them she unleashed a high drawn out yip before moving to the edge of the candlelight to wait. Mab needed extra eyes and ears on the Ty Mawr Farm, she needed to know no others had unearthed her son’s indiscretion.

  A few moments later there were waves of rustling through the ferns surrounding the clearing before a leash of foxes bounded into the candlelight, yipping and jumping at Mab’s outstretched hands. Once the foxes had curbed their delight, Mab knelt
down and whispered to them before they slipped back into the ferns and vanished.

  Mab returned to her throne. ‘A tangled web indeed.’ Taliesin and Awel remained silent.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Aeron Ddu, King of the Winter Realm, Suffragan Orphanim of the Bwy Hir, soon to be Arch Orphanim (once this insufferable Summer was over) sat in tired misery. He had woken only days ago and yet he already longed for the transition period of Autumn to finally regain the seat of power and allow Winter to commence in full fury.

  How Aeron ached to retake power. Summer felt unusually long this year, unusually hot and it hadn’t helped that he had woken early. He had taken refuge in the bowels of the Eryri Mountains and intended to remain there until the equinox in September.

  His reign was shared equally with his Queen, Mab Rhedyn Haf. She reigned during Summer with a transition in Autumn when Aeron himself would wake from sleep and slowly retake power and Mab’s power would wane and she would then sleep while he reigned during Winter. The cycle would continue when she would wake in Spring and slowly regain her full power, reigning during Summer while Aeron slept. Time meant little to the Bwy Hir, but seasons meant everything.

  Listless and petulant, Aeron roamed the Halls of the Druids, towering over its occupants, meting out orders and rebukes in equal measure, sending puny black cloaked figures flying off in all directions before returning to his chambers to wait out these final dog days.

  Aeron was one of the tallest Bwy Hir, standing at just over seven feet tall. He too was an Albino but unlike most, his eyes were red, giving him a fearsome mien. His hair was as white as snow, as was his skin. He wore his hair shaved to both sides with his mane woven into an intricate plait that snaked down his back almost to his waist. His Triskele was tattooed above his right ear in the fashion of all males, worn the opposite side to Bwy Hir females. Aeron was cold, calculated, powerful and shrewd with a taciturn nature and quick temper; a menacing foe.

  Throwing himself into a high backed mahogany chair nestled in front of the cold limestone fireplace he drummed his fingers on the ornately carved armrest and ground his teeth. ‘Will this Summer never end?’ he yelled to the ceiling, as the door to his Council chambers opened admitting the wraith-like form of his counsellor, Afagddu.

  Afagddu was the most feared of all Druids. His cold pallid skin, dead black eyes and pinched features were a most unfortunate combination, coupled with his hideously hunched spine and a right hand deformed into a claw, missing its middle finger. It looked more like a talon giving him an epithet only whispered to his misshapen back: y Gigfan, the raven.

  ‘Lord Aeron.’ Afagddu bowed to his master. ‘I see Summer’s touch is not a welcome one today.’

  Aeron frowned at the double entendre. Whether meant or not, Afagddu was treading on thin ice. Aeron would not tolerate conceit today, especially from a repulsively malformed Druid, regardless of his rank or stature among his kind.

  Afagddu was a high Druid, one who considered himself well above The Chosen and just below the Bwy Hir; he was sadly mistaken in Aeron’s opinion: Druids were servants to Bwy Hir and nothing more.

  Aeron let the silence stretch between them, staring at Afagddu with punishing eyes until Afagddu dropped his head and concentrated on the stack of parchment clutched in his claws.

  ‘I presume you have come to give your report, Afagddu?’ Aeron finally drawled.

  Afagddu bowed again as he shuffled his papers and hid a sly grin from his master. He knew not to push Aeron too far, especially in his current vein, but a little tweak here or there gave Afagddu a thrill of power too intoxicating to deny.

  ‘Yes, my Lord …’ Afagddu cleared his throat before continuing and made the pretence of gathering his thoughts before he continued, causing Aeron to sigh heavily: another tweak rendered. ‘The equinox is fast approaching and the offerings by the Chosen are being finalised… there are bountiful offerings this term, many strong young men will be representing the Chosen families, including a particularly strong young man from the Morgan family of Ty Mawr. It will be his first year and I have arranged for you to be the sole recipient as I am aware Mab is keen to expand your line ...’

  Aeron smiled at the anticipation of new blood. His heart quickened at the recall of the Harvest Festival, his lips parted as he rubbed his scarred forearm with expectation. Bringing himself back to the present, he motioned for Afagddu to continue.

  ‘Taliesin will be due to return to the Winter kingdom during the Autumn transition. I have arranged for his chambers to be prepared and his tutelage to continue under Druid Madog upon his return and –’

  ‘Allow my son no quarter, Afagddu,’ Aeron interjected. ‘Taliesin is slow to resume his responsibilities on return from his mother. She spoils him terribly and we must counter her indulgence. I will not allow my kingdom to be ruled by a pampered sycophant when the time comes.’

  Afagddu smiled with a nod. ‘Of course, my Lord.’ Afagddu had just been given permission to beat a prince who was far too good looking and popular for Afagddu’s liking, he was going to relish the experience far more than Taliesin. ‘My brothers and I shall work diligently and tirelessly to endure Taliesin becomes the king you desire.’

  Aeron gave a curt nod and pursed his lips in thought. ‘Is there anything else of importance Afagddu?’

  ‘There are many things, my Lord, but nothing I can’t oversee, however, one piece of information has come to my attention. There have been reports of a large leash of foxes in the valley, near the Ty Mawr Farm. I wouldn’t usually be concerned, however, as the boy I have reserved for you comes from Ty Mawr I am concerned why the queen would be taking such an interest, as I presume the foxes are hers. It would be frustrating if she demanded the boy’s offering, as is her right of course, but–’

  ‘I agree Afagddu.’ Aeron interrupted again, much to the frustration of Afagddu who kept his face unreadable. ‘Send a seeker and a pack of hounds. See if they can scare off her little minions. Kill them if necessary, I want the boy for myself if he’s as strong as you say he is.’

  Afagddu bowed once more and silently left the chambers. Aeron immediately returned to his brooding. What is Mab up to? He wondered. Aeron muttered before grabbing his cloak and making his way up the inside of Eryri to take in the view of the mountain range beyond his personal balcony, after all it must be nightfall by now and he intended to breathe in the cold fresh air of the mountain top and maybe cause a light frost if his powers were strong enough now. After all, the elements were his to control.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The first disruption at the farm was when a herd of cattle in the nearby field stampeded in the opposite direction of the resonant howling that echoed through the valley. The second was when the hens started clucking in alarm. Hens are notoriously silent at night and their persistent squawking was a clear indication that danger was approaching.

  The smell came first, a hideous blend of sulphur and rotting meat drifted on the breeze followed by the sound of heavy paws padding through the mildewed grass. The solid footfalls of a heavyset man came behind them.

  The two huge hounds appeared out of the night, they were the largest hounds in existence, bigger than their nearest cousins, Irish Wolf Hounds. Their pelts were short and sleek, mottled black and grey and their huge heads held a pair of near Human, intelligent eyes that missed nothing. The pair of hounds had their muzzles to the damp earth, testing the ground, snorting and sniffing. Suddenly they both lifted their heads and swivelled them in unison to their right as four foxes tore into the yard and began harrying the hen coup, causing the hens to cluck and squawk at the top of their lungs.

  The light outside the kitchen door burst into illumination and the door flew open. Gwyn, dressed only in his underwear and a pair of green Wellington boots, erupted from the opening brandishing a shotgun and pelted towards the coop.

  Gwyn yelled in anger as a fox slunk past the hen coop and vanished into the hedgerow. ‘Bloody vermin!’ he shouted, and then the world turned orang
e in a flash of brilliance.

  Gwyn threw himself to the cobbled yard floor as a flash streaked past and into the barn behind him. He blinked twice and pushed himself onto his bloodied knees still clutching the gun. As he blinked again he saw a silhouette in the moonlight bearing down on him. He didn’t hesitate, he lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, the backlash throwing him onto his back and sending him sprawling like an upturned tortoise. The silhouette crumpled to the ground.

  ‘Gwyn!’ His father rushed out of the house, clutching his unfastened trousers around his waist. He dashed to his son and knelt down. ‘Good god, Gwyn,’ he shouted, ‘what the hell happened?’

  Bara flew out of the house next and Anwen’s bedroom light turned on. ‘He tried to kill me!’ Gwyn was shaking and pointed to a shadowy heap lying in the dark just on the edge of the lamplight.

  His father made his way towards where Gwyn was pointing and vanished into the darkness. He bent down, rolled the shape over and took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Gwyn, get in the house!’ he shrieked and then his face dropped. ‘Good god,’ he breathed, ‘the barn is on fire!’

  Gwyn spun to face the barn. Smoke was slithering from a fist sized hole burned into the side of the barn. Flickering orange light danced behind the walls promising the destruction within. Anwen ran out of the house and skidded to a halt in the yard.

  ‘Anwen, get inside the house now!’ Her father’s voice brooked no arguing and she fled to the safety of the kitchen doorway, dragging Bara with her.

  ‘Gwyn.’ His father’s voice was quiet, resigned. ‘Help me get the body in the barn before it’s too late. Open the barn door before Anwen sees.’

  Gwyn stood unmoving, his face ashen, his knees tracked with blood and dirt. With a roar his father grabbed his shoulder and dragged him towards the barn doors and flung them open, blocking Anwen’s sight. They carried the body of a man dressed head to toe in black, the cowl of his cape dragging across the cobbles, a plume of dark grey smoke billowed from within and Anwen watched in horror as her father and brother disappeared into the smoke lit by an orange hellish glow.