Seventh Child

by Peter R. Ellis

  “On foot.”

  September groaned silently. Long walks were not her favourite pastime but perhaps it made a change from the boat.

  “We cannot use the river?” she asked nevertheless.

  “The river flows from the north. We must head westwards to the peak on which the Arsyllfa stands.”

  Walking and climbing. She didn’t like the sound of this trek.

  “Don’t worry my lady. We will provide you with suitable shoes for walking and clothes for the cool mountain air. And there will be animals to carry your baggage.”

  “Baggage?”

  “Food, water, tents and bedding.”

  “Oh, I see. How long will this walk take?”

  “Three or four days, if you make good time and are not delayed by the Malevolence.”

  Some hope, September thought. The evil seemed to be doing its utmost to disturb her journey.

  “But now you must eat and drink before you set off,” said Meryl laying down a tray piled high with food beside her.

  After she had eaten, Iddig brought her pairs of stout leather walking shoes to try on. She found a pair that fitted snugly and provided suitable support. It felt strange enclosing her feet after so long in simple sandals. She was given a bag with a further change of clothes and a quilted jacket to wear in the mountains. Heulwen insisted that she pack the blue silk dress. Outside, half a dozen small ponies were lined up laden with bags and each escorted by a handler with a short sword at his side and a bow and quiver of arrows on his shoulders. Iddig stood with September in front of the lead pony and introduced its handler, a tall, strong young man.

  “Sieffre will guide you to the Arsyllfa,” Iddig said, “well, with our lady Heulwen’s permission of course.”

  Sieffre took September’s hand.

  “We are all very grateful for your great work last night. To destroy a Draig tân is a feat of power that even the Mordeyrn has struggled to match.”

  September felt bashful.

  “It is the stone that has the power. I’m not sure how it works at all.”

  “That may be true but only a great Cludydd can wield the Maengolauseren to such good effect.”

  “Well, thank you for guiding me for the rest of my journey.”

  “It is my pleasure and I speak for the others too.” Sieffre gestured along the line of ponies and men, each watching her carefully.

  The townspeople had stopped their work and come to line the street, waving and calling to September. Finally it seemed that everything was ready except that Heulwen was not with them. After a few minutes of muttering amongst the onlookers, Heulwen emerged from the house. She too had changed into trousers and tunic but her outfit was of bright yellow silk. She joined Iddig, Sieffre and September.

  “Let us go,” she said. She still looked pale and tired but her voice was strong. Meryl dashed up to give September a farewell kiss on her cheek, and Iddig clasped her shoulders. The party set off and the watchers cheered and wished them a safe journey.

  They walked up the dusty main street. September noted the side roads had an assortment of buildings and realised that this was a sizeable town. Nevertheless the track soon led out between fields bounded by hedges with scattered trees and the river, flowing swiftly towards the waterfall, some metres away to their right. The hills were in front of them, round, forested hills first and further in the distance, higher, steeper, craggier peaks. Soon the river turned away to the north but their track continued westwards rising and falling gently over the undulating pastureland until they dropped into a narrow, thickly wooded valley and joined a shallow stream. The track became a narrow mud path and the hillsides and trees pressed close. They walked in single file and September found herself quite enjoying the fresh air and the changing scene but she was thankful when Sieffre called a rest break. She was relieved that the shoes felt comfortable but she knew that there was a lot of walking in front of them. Sieffre handed fresh bread and fruit to her and Heulwen.

  “Does this stream take us to the Arsyllfa?” September asked.

  “No, unfortunately. The valley turns north and we must take the path that climbs over the ridge and into the next valley, and then into the next, and the next before we climb to the peak.” Sieffre said smiling as he saw September sag, “Don’t worry, I won’t push us along too fast. We must conserve our energy to climb the highest mountain in the Bryn am Seren.”

  While they sat and ate their bread and cheese, September kept glancing at the sky. Sieffre noticed.

  “You are worried, Cludydd? You search the skies for danger?”

  “Yes. I’m scared. I’ve been attacked by monsters too many times. Good people who helped me have died.”

  “I understand. We are all under attack from the Malevolence but you, or rather the stone, attract the attentions of the servants of evil.”

  “Aurddolen thought this cloak would keep the stone hidden but every time I have had to use it I give my position away.”

  “So the Malevolence may have felt your presence in Dwytrefrhaedr when you destroyed the Draig tân; but we are no longer there so you are hidden again.”

  “But surely it can guess I’m on my way to the Arsyllfa.”

  “You are treating the Adwyth like a thinking being. It is not. It is a mindless power that is driven to attack all that is good and the instruments of good. The manifestations may have a semblance of independent thought but they are driven by one desire – to destroy you, me, all of us.”

  “You seem to understand all this stuff, Sieffre.”

  “I am just a traveller and a part-time warrior but as I journey with my pony I see things and meet people. I have heard all the stories of the previous risings of the Malevolence and how it was defeated.”

  “You’ve heard the story of Breuddwyd, the last Cludydd?”

  “I have.”

  “I think she was my mother.”

  “Ah, I have heard it said that those that come to us from the other world are of one family line. No doubt the Mordeyrn will tell you more. We must make a move.” Sieffre started to get up. September grabbed his arm.

  “Wait. You travel this way often?”

  “Yes, it is my job to deliver supplies and guests to the Arsyllfa.”

  “But you said you are also a warrior. Have you met the Malevolence on your travels?”

  “Yes, Cludydd. We have been attacked and the homes of the people who live in the hills have been attacked.”

  “But you have fought them off?”

  “Yes. It has been hard and people have been injured, killed and worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Turned to evil, such that they in turn attack the good.”

  “But you can defeat them?”

  “So far, Cludydd, yes, but it becomes more difficult as the Malevolence grows stronger. Little by little we lose, villages are overrun or destroyed, people die or are turned to evil and there are that many less to fight the next time. We cannot defeat the evil alone. You are the hope of all who live in Gwlad, Cludydd.”

  “Please call me September. It’s my name. Calling me Cludydd feels strange.”

  They got back into line with Heulwen in the lead and Sieffre with his pony behind. September followed with the other ponies and guides. They followed the path beside the stream through the trees. When the stream turned north the path left the waterside and now began to climb. September found her heart pounding and her breath coming in gasps. At home she would have collapsed in a flabby heap of weak flesh. Three weeks of sitting in a boat had not helped her fitness but the body she had here was more accustomed to effort. She was determined not to fall behind Heulwen. The girl was like a golden beacon leading the way. She seemed to have recovered her strength and was striding up the valley side.

  Eventually the path levelled off. They had reached the ridge but surrounded by tall pine trees they were unable to see a view. Heulwen did not pause but strode on down into the next valley. The path zigged and zagged to the valley bottom. At last they
broke out of the forest. September saw ahead of her a narrow strip of meadow beside a bubbling, tumbling stream that flowed from north to south. Across the other side was another wooded escarpment, higher than the ridge they had just crossed.

  Sieffre looked up at the sky, cloudless as it had been all day. The Sun was dropping behind the ridge ahead of them.

  “We still have a couple of hours of daylight,” Heulwen said, “We can press on.”

  “But night will have fallen before we reach the ridge,” Sieffre pointed out, “The valley side offers no campsites. I suggest we make camp on the other side of the stream on the edge of the forest.”

  “It is wasting time,” Heulwen protested.

  “But safer for the ponies,” Sieffre insisted. Heulwen shrugged and stalked ahead to the stream. The water level was quite low and a row of stepping stones was exposed. Heulwen skipped across and Sieffre guided his pony through the water. September paused to dip her hand in the stream. The water was much colder than the great river she had sailed on through the lowlands. She stepped across to the meadow on the other side and gazed around looking at the many coloured flowers amongst the emerald green grass. A sweet perfume filled the air.

  “This looks as though it should have cows grazing on it,” she called to Sieffre.

  “You’re right, it should. This land belongs to a small village a few hundred paces downstream,” he replied. September sensed there was something more.

  “Where are they then?”

  “The village, its people and its livestock were devastated by the Malevolence a few months ago. It is deserted now.”

  “Devastated? How?”

  “A pestilence,” Heulwen said, anger showing on her face, “pestilence that killed every living thing in the village.”

  “A pestilence? You mean some kind of disease. What caused it?”

  “It was a Cyhyraeth.” Heulwen said.

  “What does that mean?” September asked, frustrated at Heulwen’s answer.

  “A manifestation of air,” Sieffre, explained, “it comes like a wind down from the peaks. It blows around and through every building even when the doors and windows are closed. It moans and whistles through any gap. Anyone or anything that feels its whispering caress becomes sick. Within minutes their limbs swell, their skin becomes covered in pustules and their breath comes in short, hot gasps. They cry out, echoing the moans of the Cyhyraeth and then they die.”

  “That’s terrible,” September shivered.

  “If you hear the moaning wind you know death will surround you,” Heulwen said.

  “Can’t you stop it?”

  “A gold bearer can ward off the wraith and silver can heal the sick in the hands of a skilled cludydd, but small settlements have neither.”

  “What can they do?”

  “People are scared. They are leaving their homes in the hills and moving to places like Dwytrefrhaedr where there may be protection. Whatever happens, the Malevolence wins.”

  The other ponies and men had joined them and now they set to work pulling tents and bedding from the packs. In a short time the camp was set and a cook pot was heating over a fire. Although the sky was still light, shadow spread across the valley. Under the trees it was dark and September was grateful that they weren’t groping their way up the hillside.

  The story that Heulwen and Sieffre had told of the Cyhyraeth made September depressed. It was yet another way that the Malevolence exerted its terrible influence over the people of Gwlad. The way that the people carried on working, chatting and laughing while knowing that the evil could approach at any time was admirable. She shook herself and decided she needed some distraction. Having tended their ponies, four of the guides were sitting around the fire while the fifth prepared their meal.

  “I’m sorry I don’t know your names,” September said joining them and surprising herself with her manner. At home she was shy and silent with new people. Her ordeals seemed to be changing her. They all greeted her and invited her to sit with them.

  “I’m Alawn,” the young man on her left said, “and this is Elystan, Nisien, Gwrion, and Collen.” He pointed around the circle at a fair-haired youth, a dark-skinned man with a lined and worn face, another fair but older man, and lastly the cook who was the oldest of the team with grey-flecked, black hair.

  September repeated the names, trying to place them in her memory. She wasn’t sure she had succeeded.

  “I’m September,” she said cheerfully.

  “You are the Cludydd,” Collen said sombrely. The others nodded.

  “Do you travel this way often?”

  “We used to,” Gwrion said, “but there is less need of us now. There are fewer people living amongst the Bryn am Seren.”

  “Some of us have not journeyed for weeks,” Elystan said.

  “The only work has been to help Iddig,” Nisien added.

  “Doing what?” September asked.

  “Guarding the twin towns. Checking people as they arrive and looking out for manifestations of the Adwyth,” Gwrion explained.

  Sieffre and Heulwen emerged from a tent.

  “We have informed my father of our progress,” Heulwen announced. September wondered if she had a copper horn like she possessed or whether their shared skills with gold connected them in some way.

  “And there is news,” Sieffre added.

  “What?” September and the other men asked together. Sieffre’s face was grave.

  “The Arsyllfa is being attacked by the Malevolence,” Heulwen said.

  “Being attacked?” September asked not understanding.

  “Yes, it started this morning with attacks by flights of Adarllwchgwin. This afternoon there was a Draig tân and then a Pwca in the form of a giant bear tried to beat down the door. Now there are more Adarllwchgwin.”

  “Can they defend themselves against so much?” September was horrified.

  Heulwen stood up straight and proud.

  “Of course. My father will hold the Arsyllfa secure,” she said.

  “The Arsyllfa was built to withstand the Malevolence,” Sieffre explained calmly, “Its builders incorporated their skills with metals to give it power to withstand the forces of the Adwyth.”

  “That sounds impressive.”

  “It is, but never before has the Arsyllfa been attacked by such a concentration of evil or for such a length of time,” Sieffre’s look of confidence seemed to have cracked somewhat, “and the Mordeyrn is without his great shield of power.”

  “My father is still strong enough to withstand all that the Malevolence can summon,” Heulwen said defiantly.

  “But it means we may have to fight our way into the stronghold,” Sieffre added, “and the fewer days and nights we are out in the open amongst the hills the better.”

  September guessed what was coming.

  “We must rest and move at first light,” Heulwen said, “and move at speed. We must join my father as soon as possible.”

  The mood was sombre while they ate the meal that Collen had prepared and then the party prepared to settle for the night with the guards organising a rota. September was pleased that she had a small tent to herself with a warm sleeping bag on a thin but soft bedroll. She snuggled down aware of how much cooler it was in the hills than down in the valley of the great river. She took her horn from its pouch and summoned the Mordeyrn.

  “Ah, Cludydd, you have made good progress I understand.”

  “Yes, but your daughter says you are being attacked.”

  “We can withstand the powers of the Malevolence. The walls of the Arsyllfa are strengthened by girders of haearn interweaved with rods of alcam and plwm and bound together by threads of aur. Together they give our observatory strength and power to rebuff any attacks. My predecessors spent centuries preparing for this time.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Have no fear for us here, September. My only wish is for you to complete your journey in safety. While you have met opposition throughout your journ
ey, the final stretch could be the most testing. But sleep now and we will talk again tomorrow when you are closer.”

  September put the horn away and snuggled herself into her sleeping bag. After the previous night’s disturbance and a day of unaccustomed walking she felt a great tiredness.

  Elystan woke her while it was still dark. September joined the others to wash in the cold stream and they all ate breakfast together. Then, when the sky above the ridge they had crossed the previous day was lightening, they set off. It was dark under the canopy of trees but the ponies found their footings easily enough and Heulwen and Sieffre strode ahead, familiar with their route. The path quickly climbed, weaving back and fore to lessen the incline. This ridge was considerably higher and the approach steeper than the first, so the morning was well on before they emerged from the trees onto a bare and rocky escarpment. It was the first opportunity that September had to see a view since they had left the twin towns and her breath was taken away. Behind were the rolling, tree-covered lines of hills but ahead rose the rocky peaks. In the foreground was another valley running from north to south but September could see that the valley floor was much higher than the valley they had left. They would not take long in their descent, but the next ridge rose steeper and higher still and beyond were the even higher peaks. The air here was clear and fresh, but the hilltops were surrounded by dark cloud and September saw flashes of red lightning.

  “Is that where the Arsyllfa is?” September asked Sieffre, pointing to the hidden peaks.

  “Yes, and the Malevolence is attacking with all its might.”

  “You mean the lightning?”

  “Spears of fire tossed by the riders of the Adarllwchgwin.”

  “Are you sure they can hold out?”

  “Of that I am certain, but fighting our way into the Arsyllfa, of that I am less sure. We must make haste.”

  Without further pause, Sieffre and Heulwen led them down into the valley and up the far side. The path was steep and rugged. The ponies found their way easily enough but even they tired as they climbed. September had no energy to watch how the others were coping. She had to concentrate on lifting one foot after another. Her thighs ached and tiredness spread through every bone and muscle. She plodded on, her eyes on the back legs of the pony in front that showed her where to plant her feet.