The Twelve Dragons of Albion

by Mark Hayden

  ‘No, but why not tell Rick everything?’

  ‘We need the official story to be that Iestyn killed Surwen. That’s crucial for our long-term safety, and we need Rick to believe it when he tells the Council of Druids. We’ll tell the real story to Hannah. OK?’

  ‘I like that, Conrad. I can definitely sell that one.’

  ‘Good. And tell him to get over here asap. There may be prisoners before we’re finished. Now, give me Surwen’s phone. I’m going to call Harry.’

  We moved a few feet apart, walking slowly down the hill as we made our calls. The Pennaeth of MADOC answered on the first ring.

  ‘Surwen? Is that you?’ He sounded both shocked and angry. He also sounded strong of voice.

  ‘No, Harry, it’s Conrad Clarke. Who’s with you?’

  ‘Gareth and Bridget. They’re good people, Conrad.’

  And they weren’t in Surwen’s phone. Good. ‘Are you sure, Harry?’

  ‘I know who it was who did it. All six of them. Gareth and Bridget are not their friends. In fact, Bridget hates Adaryn, though she won’t thank me for telling you.’

  ‘Fine. Things have gone badly wrong, and I want to stop them getting worse.’

  ‘In the name of the gods, Conrad, so do I.’

  ‘Tell Bridget and Gareth to get sandwiches, flasks of coffee and a wheelchair. Bring them, and you, to the grove car park. We’ll see you in half an hour. Don’t talk to anyone else. Anyone.’

  ‘I understand. We’ll be with you soon.’

  I disconnected, and saw that Vicky was still talking to Rick James. I liked her style – short and factual, no great embellishments. We’d make an officer of her yet. When she’d finished, we were nearly at the bottom of the hill.

  ‘Can you sneak up to the car park and see if there’s anyone there?’

  ‘No.’

  Oh. I scratched stealth from our options and shrugged. ‘Fair enough. Let’s front it out.’

  We climbed the grassy bank and found a white Mercedes 4x4 sitting next to Iestyn’s red Fiesta. There were two shadows in the back, and Gwyddno was getting out of the driver’s seat.

  ‘Get the kids,’ I said. ‘Keep them away and say nothing to them. Literally.’

  ‘Right.’

  Gwyddno took two steps towards us, his grey hair blowing in the gathering breeze. I engaged my parade ground gear and marched up to him. The look on his face was mostly terror.

  In one move, I grabbed his arm, swung him away from his car and marched him to a low wall. He barely struggled, but Vicky had to use both arms to keep the twins confined.

  ‘Where is she?’ said Gwyddno. ‘Have you been in the Nest? Is she there?’

  I took out the Hammer. ‘Do you want to see your girls again, Gwyddno?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Anger was starting to surface. Good. It would come out sooner or later, and the sooner it came out, the sooner I could knock it on the head.

  ‘Iestyn and Surwen are with the gods, Gwyddno.’

  ‘What have you done to them?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. Iestyn was a Watch Captain, not a Druid.’

  ‘He was one of us!’

  ‘Part of him, yes, but most of him knew what was right, and creating Mr Mole was very, very wrong.’

  ‘How did you…?’ His anger blew away in a blast of fear.

  ‘Iestyn tried to arrest her, Gwyddno. She could have surrendered, but she fought back. Her and the lions.’

  ‘He was a boy. He couldn’t have taken them on.’

  ‘He died a man. He died killing the lion with Surwen’s Spirit inside it. They died together.’

  I’d got through to him, and I could see just how much he loved her by the light dimming in his eyes. I gave him as long as I could to sink into grief, then it was time to yank him back again. I touched my Badge of Office. ‘Do you want to see your girls again?’

  ‘The girls.’ He looked at the Mercedes. Vicky was standing with her back to us. Beyond her were two frightened children. The taller, darker one was wearing a thick coat, jeans and walking boots, her black hair whipping round her face unnoticed as she stared at her father and me. The other girl was focused on Vicky and visibly shivering, her pink leggings and denim jacket not offering the same protection, though she did have a matching woolly hat and scarf. As we watched, she leaned in and put her arm around her sister.

  Gwyddno stood up. ‘How can I tell the girls?’

  I took his arm. ‘You can’t. That’s our job. The only question is whether you get to see them again before they’re grown up. If you help us now, there’s a chance.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’ He started to pull against me. It didn’t take much effort to hold him in place.

  At that moment, Vicky reached out her arm to touch the shorter girl, then took two steps back, turned and ran towards us, her face set in a thin-lipped fury. Gwyddno stopped struggling. The girls stayed where they were.

  Vicky arrived and steamed into Gwyddno, punching his left arm with a sharp jab. Ow. That must have hurt.

  She thrust her finger into his face. ‘When were you going to tell your son what you did to him?’

  It’s not often I’m gobsmacked, but today was one of those days. I stared at the girls until Gwyddno pulled on my arm again. This time, it wasn’t to run over to the twins, it was to collapse on to the wall.

  Vicky mastered her anger enough to speak. She spoke to me, but in a loud enough voice for Gwyddno to know it was for his benefit as well. ‘The one on the left, the little one with the pink hat, that one has a Y chromosome but no … reproductive organs. On the outside, she’s physically a little girl, but she won’t be hitting puberty any time soon.’

  Gwynno’s shoulders were starting to shake. I clenched and unclenched my fist a couple of times until I’d controlled the urge to smear his sick face across the hillside. Vicky looked like she was working up to do the same thing.

  ‘Vic? Were the keys in the ignition?’ She nodded. I leaned in to whisper. ‘Lunar Hall.’ She nodded again, and I spoke up. ‘Take their phones off them, get them in the car and don’t stop until you’re out of Wales.’

  ‘When shall I tell them about their mother?’

  ‘When they’re safe. Stay over tonight, and we’ll meet up tomorrow.’

  She gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. ‘Unlock the Volvo, Conrad. I need me bag.’

  Gwyddno and I watched them leave. He didn’t speak until Vicky, his car and his girls were half way to the main road. ‘We joined the Brotherhood for her, you know.’

  ‘What Brotherhood?’

  ‘Brawdoliaeth y Draig. The Brotherhood of the Dragon. We joined it to get the chance for Surwen to get in the Nest. To find a way of giving Guinevere what Surwen had taken away when she was in the womb. Where have they gone?’

  ‘Somewhere safe. Why, Gwynno? Why did Surwen experiment on her unborn child?’

  ‘To give her a chance of magick. She didn’t get the right genes.’

  ‘And you went along with it?’

  ‘She said she’d abort him if I didn’t.’

  If there was a Charm to raise Surwen from the dead, I would have marched back up that hill, down to the Nest, through the Lions of Carthage and performed it, just to have the pleasure of strangling that woman with my bare hands. What is it with Witches and their children? First Deborah tries to get her daughter joined to the Spirit of Helen of Troy, then Surwen does this. I got out my cigarettes.

  ‘Time to talk, Gwynno. Where’s the Dragon?’

  He wiped some tears away. ‘I don’t know. We were always going to move it, because the Nest is sealed with concrete. Bloody Romans. We got a shift on when that Mole broke into the egg chamber. We knew someone would come calling after that. We didn’t expect it to be so soon. That’s when Adaryn started to bring Iestyn on board.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Where’s the Dragon?’

  ‘I’m telling you. I don’t know. Adaryn said that some of us should stay here and negotiate while the others
looked after the Hatchling.’

  ‘Negotiate what?’

  ‘The Welsh Petition. Magickal independence for Wales. It’s what we all wanted.’

  ‘Talk me through the end-game, Gwyddno. How was this going to work?’

  The look on his face said it all. The plan didn’t sound so good now. ‘Iorwen, Rhein and Myfanwy are looking after Welshfire. That’s the name of the Dragon. Adaryn was going to release a statement through Iestyn. He was going to take it to your boss.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘The threat was London. To release Welshfire on London.’

  ‘You must know that the government never gives in to terrorists.’

  ‘Yes, they do. They did in Belfast.’

  Oh … that was a can of worms I couldn’t afford to open today.

  Gwyddno spoke over my hesitation. ‘We knew we wouldn’t get it all straight away. Our fallback position was to get a royal commission. That would give the government an excuse to overrule the Invisible College.’

  When he put it like that, it almost sounded reasonable. I’ll tell you something else that sounded reasonable: the decision to occupy Basra with two men and a dog. Look how that turned out.

  He looked at the hillside that covered the Dragon’s Nest, and which would now be his wife’s tomb. ‘If only she’d stayed up top, Myfanwy could have told her you were coming.’

  I kept my counsel. A people carrier turned off the main road. ‘Hand over your Artefacts, Gwyddno. My CO is on his way to take you into custody.’

  His eyes glazed over as he unhooked his chain of Artefacts. I got some rope and a blanket from the Volvo and tied him to a gate before formally arresting him and placing him under a Silence (I can only use a Silence if I’m arresting someone).

  When I’d finished, a burly couple were standing by the people carrier watching me. The female – Bridget – lifted a flask and waggled it in the air. I left Gwyddno to his memories and limped over to the warmth of their vehicle and a difficult conversation with the Pennaeth of MADOC.

  They let me get warm and fed before the serious business started. The back seat of Bridget’s MPV was no enchanted chair, and she had to sit next to Harry to lend him magickal support. Gareth, a lifelong devotee of the oval ball, sat next to me in the front. Although very much a Druid, Gareth himself had no magick.

  Bridget had offered me a box of wet-wipes for me to clean my hands before we ate, and I took another when I’d finished to wipe off the mayonnaise, which for some reason was stickier than blood. When I dumped the wipe in the rubbish bag, everyone knew it was time.

  ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Pennaeth,’ I said. I’d already complimented the chef, so my thanks to Harry were protocol. ‘You are not my enemy, nor I yours, but I have a problem. I nearly died up there, and I tend to bear grudges when that happens.’

  Gareth moved in his seat and stared at me. I let him.

  ‘I accept that you didn’t know about the Dragon, Harry, but what did you think was going on? You must have suspected that they were up to something.’

  Harry looked out of the window towards Gwyddno, hunched under his blanket. ‘You tell him, Gareth,’ he said, without taking his eyes off Surwen’s husband.

  ‘Not my place,’ growled Gareth.

  ‘Then I’ll say it,’ said Bridget. She let go of Harry’s hand, and the old man slumped a fraction. ‘Harry was a fool,’ she continued. ‘He let his head get turned by a song on the lips of a pretty girl. He’s not the first man to do that.’

  ‘Adaryn is no girl,’ I said.

  ‘No, and that makes it worse, so does the fact that it wasn’t her body she was offering him. Lust has never been Harry’s weakness, has it?’

  The old man smiled. ‘You make me sound like a monk. There was a bit of lust, you know.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, but it was mostly pride, wasn’t it?’

  Harry’s hand moved a fraction. I had to strain my ears to hear his whisper. ‘An old man’s dream of glory.’

  We all waited until Harry had moved his hand to Bridget. When she had accepted it, and become his Deuxième Mère again, he told me the story.

  In Druidic magick, the Bard has a special role as the spiritual and artistic leader of the Order, and their power can multiply the effects of others’ efforts in ways not fully understood. Adaryn had come to Newport, to Caerleon, as an up-and-coming Bard, and had taken the Order to the top of the Premier League in two seasons – if you’ll forgive the footballing metaphor.

  She had almost doubled the size of the Order, and set up a second centre of power in the Old Chapel, away from Newport. Then, after the Eisteddfod a couple of years ago, she had come up with a plan: a lost manuscript was coming on to the market, and she wanted the Order to buy it.

  ‘What manuscript?’ I interrupted.

  ‘The Palace of Rhiannon. One of the texts on which the Mabinogion is based. It would tell us where the Great Queen’s palace was built. MADOC would be the richest and most powerful Order in Wales.’ Harry had been talking to the hillside. He turned to face me. ‘It doesn’t exist, does it?’

  ‘The manuscript she sold was real enough.’

  ‘What manuscript?’ interrupted Gareth. He was starting to look very alarmed.

  ‘The one the Brotherhood sold for 7,000oz to that Englishwoman. The one about Urien and the Lady of the Fountain.’

  Gareth and Bridget started an intense argument with Harry. In Welsh. When I’d dragged them back to English, and calmed them down, a completely new crime had emerged. Harry had avoided telling them about the sale of the manuscript, and Gareth was the Order’s Treasurer.

  It seems that Adaryn had not only embezzled thousands of Troy Ounces of Lux, she had convinced the Order to borrow thousands more from some Gnomes in Belfast, thousands which had disappeared.

  ‘We’re finished,’ said Gareth. ‘We’ve got no option but to go to the Council and ask the Order in Cardiff to take over.’

  Bridget looked at Harry, hoping for a show of defiance. He looked down and said nothing.

  ‘I think I can help,’ I said.

  ‘How?’ they chorused.

  ‘No promises, but if you tell me about the rest of the Brotherhood, and grant me a boon, I may have an idea. As I said, no guarantees, but you don’t have to throw in the towel just yet.’

  ‘How?’ they said again.

  ‘Trust me. I know that’s what Adaryn said, but it’s that or get on the phone to the Archdruid.’

  ‘What do you want?’ said Harry.

  ‘Let me make a couple of calls first.’

  I’d told Vicky not to stop until she was out of Wales. By now, the call of nature would be pressing, so I messaged her to ring me when she’d stopped. Then I called Mother Julia at Lunar Hall, and told her to expect Vicky and the girls.

  ‘Of course we’ll take them in tonight,’ she said, ‘but why are you shipping them so far from home, like parcels?’

  ‘Two reasons. First, I think they could be at risk of harm in Wales, and second, I can think of no one better to look after them when they find out their mother’s dead, their father’s in jail and that Guinevere should be a boy.’

  ‘What?’

  When I explained, Mother Julia was as furious with Surwen as I’d been. ‘The poor child. I don’t know what we can do, Conrad, but yes, Lunar Hall can be their sanctuary.’

  Vicky was trying to get through, so I thanked Mother Julia and switched calls. ‘How are they?’

  ‘In bits, the poor bairns. Elowen – the taller one – tried to use magick on me while I was driving. I’ve just locked them in the disabled toilet to stop them running away. I may have to put a Silence on her.’

  ‘Whatever it takes. I trust you, Vic.’

  ‘We’ll get there.’

  ‘You will, and Mother Julia’s waiting to help you.’

  ‘Good. I need it. How’s your end?’

  I gave her the ten second version, then said, ‘There’s something I haven’t told you because there w
asn’t the right moment. Do you remember our conversation about my romantic history?’

  ‘Aye. Where in Nimue’s name is this headed, Conrad?’

  ‘Back to school. My first crush was Adaryn Owain, only she was called Imogen Jones then.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I know. She’s changed a bit since, and those murals were quite an eye opener. I didn’t get to see that much of her when I was seventeen.’

  ‘OMG, Conrad. Stop it.’

  ‘Quite. Did you find anything valuable in Surwen’s lab?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to look. Hang on. I’ll get the twins out of the toilet and call you back.’

  It took her longer than I expected, but it was worth the wait. ‘There was a sealed Egyptian Tube,’ she said. ‘It’s what the most powerful scrolls are kept in. On the label, it says The Lions of Carthage, by Quintus Julius Lucis, Autograph manuscript. If that’s true, we’re talking 20,000oz, easily.’

  ‘I take it we don’t get to keep it.’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? A find like this goes straight to the Constable. We’ll get a reward eventually. Perhaps as much as 50oz.’

  ‘I’ve got a plan, Vicky, but I haven’t got time to explain it now. If you’re willing to trust me, we should be able to eat our cake and have it after.’

  She hesitated. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll keep quiet about the manuscript until you can explain it properly. See you later.’

  I pocketed my phone and got back into the MPV. ‘We’re good to go,’ I said. ‘Bridget, can you keep an eye on Gwyddno? Until my CO arrives?’

  ‘I can. Why me?’

  ‘You have magick, and I need Gareth to help me push Harry’s wheelchair up the hill.’

  The Druids of MADOC had invested in an electric wheelchair for their Pennaeth, so Gareth and I had an easy job until we got to the Wards protecting the sacred grove. Beyond them no electric device functioned properly. We left the chair, and Gareth carried Harry on his shoulders. As we approached the final turn before the grove, Harry started to whisper a song. Gareth joined in, a deep bass that thundered in Welsh to an ancient tune.

  The grove itself was the reality on which the mural had been based, and was more dramatic than its image pretended because the image had ignored the central feature – literally at the centre was the chimney outlet which led down to the Dragon’s Nest.