The Twilight Dragon & Other Tales of Annwn: Preludes to The Everwinter Wraith (The Annwn Cycle)

by Shawn Speakman

  The coblynau sat transfixed, his eyes glazed over as if in a trance. Richard had seen it once before, when the new Cardinal Seer of the Vatican had used his own looking glass, the Fionúir Mirror, to view Annwn from the depths of Rome. Herne Keir’s eyes, once blue, were pale like milk, blind to what transpired in his own bedchamber. The magic of the mirror had transported him somewhere else.

  Just as Richard stepped close to draw the coblynau back to Tal Ebolyon, the mirror suddenly went dark.

  And Herne Keir drew a deep breath.

  “My lord Heliwr,” Herne Keir growled low, rising to face Richard. He was stocky, even for his kind, with a coal black beard that framed a square jaw and fists the size of half cinder blocks. “These are not your quarters.”

  “I am aware of that Master Steward,” Richard said, stilling his surprise at the other’s abrupt return. “It is not my intent to be here, trust me.”

  “Then why are you?”

  “Snedeker felt dangerous magic summoned,” Richard answered, not backing down. Herne Keir had always been terse with the knight. The Heliwr would be strong right back. “It was a magic I had also not felt before in Tal Ebolyon. I worried for your safety, the lives of the Fynach, and those of dragonkind.”

  “Your guide was mistaken,” the coblynau said, straightening his robe. He stared hard at the fairy as Snedeker came to rest on Richard’s shoulder. “I am fine.”

  “But the—” Snedeker began.

  “You are mistaken, fairy,” Herne Keir spat. “The magic you discerned is nothing but the Keir Mirror. It has long been a family heirloom.”

  “And its purpose?” Richard asked.

  “Simple communication between Tal Ebolyon and Caer Glain,” the steward said. “Three hundred years ago when Lord Fafnir created the Fynach, had Mynachlog Keep built, and instilled our purpose to aid Lord Latobius, my long-ago grandsire brought the mirror here, to be used to speak with his separated family. It has passed from steward to succeeding steward, down through my family, for generations. Now it is mine. When there is need for supplies, I contact Caer Glain. When I wish to speak with my kin in the mountain below, I use the Kier Mirror. It is not evil. Merely a tool.”

  “That makes for a useful artifact, for sure,” the knight said. “If you don’t mind me asking, who were you speaking with through the mirror?”

  “That is none of your concern, Heliwr,” Herne Keir said curtly, annoyance and another emotion Richard couldn’t identity right away flickering in his eyes.

  “And the darkness I felt in the magic being used?” Richard pressed. “Nothing to concern me? A natural thing with this mirror here. There is absolutely no danger?”

  “None,” Herne Keir said. The coblynau grabbed a velvet cloth draped over the chair and covered the mirror. He turned back to Richard, his eyes cold. “We Fynach are a closed group. I made an exception with you at the behest of Lord Latobius. He sees honor in you and he accepted your aid. I had no choice.” He paused. “But that honor is now in serious question upon you entering my private chambers uninvited.”

  “I understand,” Richard said. He let the Dark Thorn return to ether and bowed slightly. “My apologies, Steward Herne Keir. It will never happen again.”

  “See that it does not,” Herne Keir said sternly. “Now, I am sure you require time to recover from your journey. And I believe you know the way out.”

  The knight nodded. With Snedeker already openly glaring at the Heliwr, Richard left the room, making his way out of the steward’s quarters and down the several flights of stairs toward his meeting with Lord Latobius.

  When they had descended two floors, Snedeker flew before Richard.

  “You threw me under a charging Rhedewyr there, Rick,” the fairy accused, eyes angry and stick arms folded crossly. “And backed down all too quick.”

  “There was nothing more to learn.”

  “Firklestamp. You do not believe what he said. At all.”

  “Very observant,” Richard snorted.

  “So? What are you thinking?”

  “Merle says when enough coincidences add up, there is no need to look for more,” the knight said. “I had seen enough. No reason to argue with Herne Keir further. The dark magic employed. The steward showed no surprise when he returned from the mirror. None, which makes no sense. It was almost like he expected us there. And did you see the rose bushes?”

  “I did,” the fairy said.

  “That is no simple decoration,” Richard said, partially thinking out loud. “The rose vines are beautiful but hardly necessary, especially during the Everwinter. A lot of magic went into that creation, one that helps no one in Tal Ebolyon. Gwyrdd Witches do not have limitless power. They work hard at maintaining their respective Byrd Gardens and are just barely capable of feeding Annwn.”

  “What does it mean then, oh sage one?” the fairy asked.

  “I don’t know,” the knight answered. “But it goes beyond friendship. To me, it borders on… adoration.”

  The twigs of Snedeker’s face scrunched up, the guide lost in thought. The situation was not the only thing Richard disliked. He had spent time learning to read people and fey alike during his tenure as Heliwr and it had served him well. While training for the role, Merle had tried to impart much of the wisdom he had gleaned over his centuries of life. According to the ancient wizard, the tiniest details were almost universally the most important.

  When Herne Kier had exited the mirror, annoyance had not been the only emotion the Heliwr had noted in the coblynau. The knight had seen a hint of guilt, at being caught doing something wrong.

  And one other emotion that worried Richard the most.

  It had been a fear.

  Chapter 3

  “About the Elves?” Richard asked. “Where in Britain did they return?”

  Lord Latobius sat across from the Heliwr next to the fire, his albino features expressionless and his eyes dark with memory. The leader of dragonkind had changed into his human form, the massive white dragon choosing to not meet outside of the keep in the icy elements at the consideration of his guest. They now sat in the warm confines of the waiting room, Master Rhorik caring for their needs but giving enough privacy to discuss what they wished. During the five years since the battle on the plains outside the Forest of Dean, the unfettered knight and dragon lord had become close friends, their shared past instilling respect. When Lord Latobius had rejoined the Seelie Court against Philip Plantagenet, he had won the loyalty of Richard. The Heliwr, in turn, had earned the lord’s respect by trying to keep his promise to discover what ailed dragonkind.

  Now they sat with one another, once again trying to unravel the enigma of dragon sterility, the two in deep conversation even as Snedeker snored softly from his makeshift goblet bed on the table.

  Of Herne Kier, there had been no sign.

  Life’s little victories, Richard thought darkly.

  “I know where the Elves intended to travel. But that was many centuries ago, Richard McAllister. They may no longer be there,” Latobius said. He gave a weak smile. “At the time, Evrym Ellys sat upon the Elven throne. A dear friend. A strong king. We spoke of his leaving often.”

  “Why did Evrym Ellys choose to leave?” the knight asked. “It could not have been an easy decision.”

  “The Elves hated Annwn,” the dragon lord said. “They are connected to the world in ways the others in the Seelie Court are not, you see. And Annwn, while real, is a far newer in creation than the Misty Isles. The Elves craved the ancient world of their birth, with its long history and breadth of life. The woodlands in the Misty Isles hold secrets as old as creation itself. To be separated from those secrets left my fey kin wounded, sick in the heart, I believe. Evrym did what he thought was right.”

  “The Elves lived in woodlands like most of the Seelie Court,” Richard pondered. He frowned. “Britain has changed a great deal in the last century. Two world wars and human population growth has reduced those woodlands to ten percent of Britain.”

&n
bsp; “That is a sorrowful tale,” the dragon lord said. “In my youth, the Misty Isles were covered in large oak trees from sea to sea, trees larger than those even here in Tal Ebolyon.”

  “The Elves could be dead if they could not adapt.”

  “I would not gamble on that, Heliwr,” the other snorted. “They were quite adept at mingling with those of your race. They are likely hidden beneath your very noses.”

  Richard stared into the fire, thinking. He had never seen an Elf. In all of his travels in the last five years and having crossed from one end of England to the other on several quests, he had never met one from the fey race. He had to admit he hadn’t been specifically looking for them. But surely with the magic he carried, he should have encountered some sign of the Elves by now if they existed.

  He could feel another tentative lead thread fraying.

  “The worry of your thoughts matches my own, Heliwr,” Latobius noted. “Why have you come seeking the Elves?”

  “The Morrigan sent me here,” the Heliwr said. “Why would she do that?”

  “Anrhydedd,” Latobius said.

  “Anrhydedd?”

  “An old friend. Long lost,” the dragon lord said. “I ordered one of my bravest back to the Misty Isles, through the oldest portal. It is the only time I have done such a thing. Long decades have not quelled my regret for having done so.”

  “A dragon then?” Richard asked. The albino nodded. “Why did you do this?”

  “Anrhydedd was the eldest of my kind, nearly as old as I am,” the other said, his lavender eyes solemn. “He had long since lost the ability to couple, to produce an egg. I felt it was time to seek an answer to our problem in our former world. As you know, even as of several decades ago, our numbers were dwindling. Those who left the Misty Isles and entered Annwn so long ago were dying, naturally, with few sons and daughters to take their place. I could not risk sending a younger dragon who might yet still multiply. Therefore, I sent Anrhydedd. Dearest of friends.”

  It pained Richard to hear the sorrow in the dragon lord’s voice.

  “What happened to him?”

  “I know not,” Lord Latobius said. “He never returned. Six decades have passed. Maybe he met hardship and woe. The Elves he sought, those of the fey who possess great healing magic. It is their gift. Anrhydedd ventured far from Annwn to gain that gift. Did he discover the Elves? Did he learn how to aid my kind? That past is dark to me.”

  “My world has grown wilder than you can imagine, Lord Latobius,” Richard said. “Even several decades ago, the men and women of Britain had the weapons to kill even so great a friend.”

  “Your kind pose no threat to a dragon of Anrhydedd’s stature,” the dragon lord frowned darkly. “The world of my origin would have had to change a great deal indeed.”

  “It has,” the Heliwr assured. “All the sadder in many ways.”

  “Evrym Ellis was a formidable leader, skilled in oratory. We shared numerous battles of wits and words, with Anrhydedd often taking part,” Lord Latobius said with a faint smile. “Despite the Seelie Court’s desire to see the Elves stay, Evrym listened to the will of his people and left Annwn anyway—one people, one choice.” He paused. “You wish to know where Anrhydedd ventured? He traveled where the King of the Elves led his people. Gwynffridd, outside Bedrhydd. A beautiful lush wood. This is where I sent Anrhydeed.”

  “That’s welsh for White Wood,” Richard said, translating. “At Beda’s Ford.”

  “The Elves lived in several places but Gwynffridd was their heart,” the dragon said. “A great wood, a strong river. Evrym Ellys would have returned there first.”

  “Not much to go on,” the Heliwr said. “I know England pretty well. The names have evolved over the centuries.”

  Lord Latobius smiled. “You have means, Richard McAllister.”

  “You believed the Elves had an answer for dragonkind.”

  “I did,” Latobius said. “The Elves have ever been the caretakers among the Tuatha de Danann. That is one reason among many why their departure from the Seelie Court was so painful to all here in Annwn.”

  “I hunt the Elves then,” Richard said, already thinking ahead.

  The room grew quiet as man and dragon pondered separate thoughts. Richard could discover where Gwynffridd existed but the likelihood of it still existing was not very good. The deforestation that had ravaged the English countryside had nearly wiped out every tree. How had the Elves survived that? It would take research and then a foray into the countryside to determine their whereabouts—and if they could help.

  “Merle will know where to look,” Richard said, returning his attention to the dragon lord. “He may even know exactly where I should begin my search.”

  Lord Latobius stared into the flames, appearing to not have heard Richard. The Heliwr frowned. The lord had become increasingly despondent over the knight’s last few visits. The leader of Tal Ebolyon had never acted in this manner, his strong mind sharp and focused, his attention never wavering from their conversations.

  That had changed and its possible cause worried Richard.

  “My Lord Latobius?” the knight asked. “Should I call for refreshment?”

  “No. I am weary. That is all,” Latobius said, sitting up a bit straighter. “A great darkness has come upon my mind as of late. On many of my kind, if truth be told. The war with Philip Plantagenet took its toll, I am afraid, but this Everwinter wears heavily. Once, my kind roamed the skies without fear. Now the Everwinter has made us solitary and alone, lax to sleep and become sleep. Undoubtedly my son mentioned this.”

  “He did not,” Richard said. “Prince Saethmoor is ever your loyal son and would not speak of such things without leave, even with me.”

  “If I did not know any better, I’d say I feel old. Witless.”

  “You are far from that, Lord Latobius.”

  “I am the first of the Seelie Court to say it though.”

  It with said with such dark gravity that the concern Richard carried for the dragon race and their plight grew exponentially. The lords of the Seelie Court were everlasting unless killed. Lord Arawn had discovered that when Richard had ended that threat years earlier. No fey leader had succumbed to infirmity; no fey leader had lost mental faculty.

  The words of Latobius coupled with the mystery of Hearne Kier and his mirror became a blaring warning in Richard’s heart.

  There was more going on in Tal Ebolyon than he knew.

  And time slipped away.

  “Have you sensed anything amiss with Master Kier?” Richard asked finally.

  “Not at all,” Lord Latobius said, more alert than he’d be in the last few minutes. “The Fynach give what aid they can as they have always done, at his behest.”

  “You have sensed no magic out place as of late?”

  “None at all, Heliwr.” Latobius frowned. “Why do you ask this of me?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Richard lied.

  “You keep secrets like your mentor, Richard McAllister,” the other said. “Myrddin Emrys has long known more than he shares.”

  “No one can top his secrets, my Lord,” the knight snorted, standing to bow. “It is best I leave then. I need answers and I hope they exist in the Misty Isles. I need one of Merle’s libraries and that requires leaving Annwn, I’m afraid.”

  “I wish you a safe journey then,” Lord Latobius said, also standing. He shook the knight’s hand, a learned affection to the bridging of their hopes for the future. “And luck finding the Elves.”

  “You have given me a start. Snedeker!” Richard snapped over his shoulder.

  The fairy leapt out of his goblet bed in fright, his wings hitting the air with a fevered panic.

  “What?!” the guide squeaked in fright.

  “We are leaving.”

  * * * * *

  Richard left the Mynachlog Keep, giving his thanks and farewell to Master Rhorik, and passed through the open gate in the tall wall to enter the warmth of the Bwyd Garden beyond.


  The fertile area spread out in front of him and around the keep, the smell loamy with growing life and awake earth. Snow still fell but it melted, creating greenhouse humidity that aided the plants. Magic encased and permeated the entire area, the power of the Gwyrdd Witch focusing snow-filtered light, keeping the ground and air warm, and accelerating plant growth to produce fruits and vegetables during the unnatural season. It was magic that required constant attention.

  With Snedeker flying by his side, Richard walked the garden, searching for that magic’s owner. He needed information.

  And London was not the only place to find it.

  “Find Mistress Elyn.”

  “After being awakened so rudely, a please would be nice.”

  “Just go, Snedeker!”

  The fairy flew off, cursing as he usually did. The garden was large and his guide would have an easier time finding the witch. Richard regretted being terse with Snedeker but he was in a foul mood, the entire day having been filled with conflict. The secrets of Hearne Kier. The fragmenting of Lord Latobius’s mental acuity. The death that haunted every aspect of Tal Ebolyon and the knight’s inability to stop it. It was not in his nature to dwell on the hardship that entered his life—he had faced worse and survived countless times—but he had given a promise, one he had carried for five years.

  Not fulfilling that kind of oath after so long rankled Richard.

  After several minutes, Snedeker returned.

  “She is not in the garden,” the fairy shared. “Or outside the keep, for that matter.”

  Richard looked up at the leaden sky, thinking. A part of him wanted to reenter the keep and find her. Answers were important. If the witch was sharing her bed with Hearne Kier, she would more than likely be privy to what transpired in his living quarters. There were no guarantees she knew about the mirror, of course. Or would even talk about it if she did. But over the years, Richard had become adept at reading people.

  She would give him answers.

  One way or another.

  Then the image of Lord Latobius staring blankly resurfaced, and Richard’s promise to help dragonkind rose, more urgent than ever, changing his mind.