This Present Past

by Traci Harding

  ‘Gentlemen.’ Gwion pointed to the sylphs amassing above their heads. ‘You are attracting attention.’

  ‘They do not understand emotion and are attracted to it and influenced by it,’ Creirwy explained. ‘So if you don’t want them attacking you in excitement, I strongly suggest you calm yourselves and stop inciting them.’

  ‘Oh.’ Brockwell smiled sweetly and held his hands up in truce. ‘Just playing, ladies!’

  Half the mass became agitated.

  ‘They aren’t all female.’ Creirwy was sounding unimpressed by his continual assumptions.

  ‘My mistake, apologies gen—’

  ‘Please, just sit down and be quiet before you get us all in strife.’ The Lady’s voice was as icy and calm as a winter’s morn.

  Brockwell slowly sank to sit on the ground and Bran followed suit.

  ‘Oh, my heavenly Goddess.’ Brockwell spied a nymph, scantily clad in a dress of cobwebs and flowers, exiting the mound tunnel, her long fair hair wafting around her, rendering her outfit more modest. She didn’t walk, she floated, though she had no wings like the tiny sylphs.

  The Night Hunter will see Gwion Bach, she announced in a voice that was velvet on the ear, yet completely lacking in emotion.

  ‘No one else?’ Brockwell queried.

  No, only Gwion Bach. Her attention turned from him to Gwion – as he was obviously the smallest man in the party. You are the one?

  ‘I am.’ Gwion was never so happy to answer to this name – the nymph made it sound an honour.

  Follow me. An enchanting smile was upon her lips as she turned and floated back into the mount passage.

  ‘What’s so special about you?’ Brockwell shook his head, clearly baffled why the Night Hunter would be interested in communing with a whelp.

  ‘I guess I will find out.’ Gwion’s gaze shifted to the Lady Tegid as he passed by, but nothing of her could be seen beneath her hooded robe. Her brother, Morvran, gave him a nod and a smile of encouragement.

  ‘Everything here has a price,’ Creirwy warned, ‘and yet it is all just glamour and illusion in the end.’

  ‘What are you saying . . . that this is a dream?’ Brockwell theorised as Gwion moved off after his guide, not wishing to keep the Night Hunter waiting.

  ‘Life is the dream; Annwn is one step closer to wakefulness, yet still far away from awareness.’

  ‘Then what is dreaming?’ Brockwell bantered.

  ‘A temporary unconscious pathway into Annwn.’

  Brockwell groaned – it sounded like the premise was making his brain hurt.

  But Gwion had an inkling of what the Lady Tegid was trying to say. So this is a waking dream . . . a dream over which I have some wilful control, he reasoned to himself.

  Dreams reflect and foreshadow life in Abred. Gwion heard Creirwy’s warning in his mind – it seemed she was telepathic after all, here in Annwn at least; the fact was a little unnerving. Beware of what future you create for yourself, Gwion son of Gwreang.

  The deeper he moved into the tunnel, the darker it became; and the more pronounced and mesmerising the glowing artwork that adorned the walls, ceiling and walkway was, the more surreal the experience seemed.

  It was as he realised that he’d been entranced by the passage marks that Gwion also noted his guide had vanished. It mattered not; there was only one path forward.

  The swirling, pulsating patterns appeared like whirlpools spinning endlessly, and the zig-zag patterns seemed to spin themselves into light-bridges between some of the spirals. Could this be a map of some kind? The thought sent chills through him as he asked himself what place could look like this. This was a map of the heavens! He was abuzz with the thrill of the realisation.

  That’s right, Gwion Bach, you have knowledge that you haven’t even discovered yet. The voice was male, yet more forbidding than any of the men in his company.

  Gwion’s vision of the cosmos rushed away and he became aware of standing beside King Owain. They were in a large domed structure, constructed of the same ornate stone as the mound entrance and tunnel – which seemed to be mysteriously absent. There was no obvious pathway in or out. In the centre of the room was a throne, and upon this sat a giant man dressed only in a pair of dark leather trousers – the rest of his body was covered in war paint of deep green and red, so dark in shade that it almost appeared black. His eyes were like Keridwen’s, large and almond-shaped, but dark, like his long, unruly hair.

  The Night Hunter appeared relaxed, with one leg hung over the arm of the throne in which he reclined. I don’t believe it. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he observed Gwion. You old lunatic . . . you actually made it. His lips did not move, Gwion heard the Lord’s voice in his mind.

  This was not the opening to the conversation Gwion was expecting. ‘You know me, Lord?’

  The Night Hunter laughed. Anywhere. Any of my folk would.

  ‘Why, what did I do?’ Gwion ventured to ask, but his host only laughed harder.

  I cannot say . . . far be it from me to interfere with your grand design for yourself.

  Gwion looked to the King, perplexed, but Owain had questions of his own for their host. ‘Pardon, Lord, does that mean you know why Gwion alone has the power to heal my men?’

  Of course I know. I know everything! About everyone. Their host was unable to quell his amusement. Oh, dear Lord, you’re killing me!

  If it was true that the folk truly felt nothing, then the laughter and amusement was an act, much as rage or any other emotion the Night Hunter exhibited.

  It took a few moments for Gwyn ap Nudd to finally compose himself. This development is most entertaining, so I am inclined to grant your request. I can allow Gwion Bach to restore your men, but those souls must be replenished from the ranks of our enemies. I shall even provide you with a sword that will be invincible until our tally is even.

  The King’s eyes widened at the offer – such gifts were the fabric from which great legends were woven.

  What would you sacrifice, for such an advantage and my generosity? The Night Hunter proffered.

  ‘I am sure my Lord has something in mind.’ The King suddenly appeared uncomfortable having Gwion bear witness to his Otherworldly covenant.

  Fear not. As you already know, humans only remember that which I have granted them upon their return to Abred. But your memory of whatever we agree on as payment will only be recollected once you return to my presence in Annwn. The Night Hunter addressed the King’s unspoken concern, yet Gwion found this information disturbing. Thus I’m sure you recall that which you have already relinquished to me.

  ‘I do,’ the King confirmed. ‘So what is left to barter?’

  Well, beyond being cheated out of your kingdom, there is your personal happiness – you could sacrifice some of that? the Lord suggested.

  Gwion was horrified by the Night Hunter’s words, and turned his concern to Owain. ‘You bartered your kingship?’

  ‘To secure the Otherworldly support to crush the Saxon threat and secure peace for the Cymru.’ The King returned his address to Gwyn ap Nudd. ‘If I were to sacrifice personal happiness surely that will affect the happiness of others?’

  Everything you do affects the happiness of others. You are a king! the Lord outlined with indifference. And as the sovereign, the suffering of a few, versus the salvation of half your army, should be an easy call.

  Gwion listened with growing trepidation; the Night Hunter was a master manipulator.

  ‘What exactly are you asking for?’ The King obviously wanted no more unexpected twists or side-effects.

  How about I take your heir?

  The suggestion was shocking.

  ‘What would you do with him?’ Owain asked, and Gwion was stupefied to realise that the young king was actually considering the proposal.

  Nothing at all. The Night Hunter waved off their dread. Your queen shall simply never give birth to one.

  ‘Why would you want that? Who shall inherit my kingdom and maintai
n the peace once I am betrayed?’ The young king appeared suddenly aged – so young to be bargaining away his life.

  You let me worry about that, the Lord advised. You are a warrior king! Domestic life is never going to be your forte anyway.

  ‘We did not come here to make you temporarily invincible, Majesty, we came only to spare the lives of your forces.’ Gwion spoke up as the negotiation was veering off-course.

  ‘But we require the sword to do that.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Gwion appealed. ‘I’ve seen you fight; you are already invincible.’ He looked back to their host, hoping to strike a more favourable deal. ‘Surely the price for only what we came for will not be so high?’

  You haven’t changed one bit. The Night Hunter was a little agitated by the attempt to negotiate. You are so used to bending all to your will, but here all bend to my will. So my offer stands: all or nothing.

  ‘Majesty.’ Gwion had a horrible feeling. ‘Think of your future queen, who will never understand why she cannot accomplish the one task that is required of her. It will make you both miser—’

  ‘In my experience,’ the King seemed determined to stay the course, ‘love makes you miserable in any case.’

  ‘Then it wasn’t love you experienced, and you have no idea how much you are going to regret this moment.’ Gwion stared him down – hoping the younger man would see reason.

  ‘How can I regret something I don’t remember?’

  Gwion was lost for words as the young king walked around him to discuss the finer details of the arrangement with their host.

  Eyes closed tight, and arms wrapped about his knees to protect against the morning chill, Tiernan focused on his breathing and his aspiration to be trained by Sir Gilmore, to distract from the sound of the beast’s constant low growl.

  One finds this so tedious!

  Tiernan opened his eyes, expecting to see someone from the King’s ranks, but there was no one. The dragon lowered its head to rest on the ground right in front of where Tiernan was seated. The lad caught his breath as he gazed into one of the creature’s huge red eyes.

  No one said this gatekeeping business was going to take so long! It rolled its eye in a bored fashion.

  ‘Iiiiit’s only been a . . . a couple of minutes,’ the lad ventured, realising the voice was coming from inside his head – the beast must have mentally linked with him, as Morvran said it could.

  A couple of what? The dragon suddenly lifted his head, spotting something down the track. What’s that? The gatekeeper inched forward and the porthole it held open shrank a little.

  ‘A deer. It’s a harmless animal,’ Tiernan explained.

  Harmless, you say? The dragon sounded disappointed. Are you sure?

  ‘Very sure.’ Tiernan knew he had to keep the dragon’s attention on his job. ‘Please, Rufus, don’t move any further into our world; the porthole you hold open has some very important people inside.’

  Wow! The dragon looked to the sunrise, painting the clouds in the sky with vibrant pastel shades of yellow, orange, pink and purple. What’s that?

  Tiernan could sense the dragon’s excitement – how could he compete? ‘That’s a sunrise—’

  One must see.

  ‘No, one must not!’ Tiernan panicked as the beast began to move off, and he rushed to keep up with it to appeal, ‘I can’t let you leave!’ He looked back to see the porthole was shrinking around the top of the dragon’s tail.

  The dragon looked down and snorted smoke, while inside his head Tiernan heard the beast’s mocking laughter. Made you move! You broke your vow to your king.

  ‘You are just teasing me?’ Tiernan coughed, waving away the smoke. ‘Is that what you are doing?’

  The creature took his time answering. Hmmmm . . . no. The dragon looked back to the brilliant distraction.

  Tiernan’s inner panic rose again and his eyes shifted to the pile of weapons. ‘Just stay until my king returns.’

  Ooooh, look, it’s getting bigger and brighter! One loves shiny things. The dragon eyed the sunrise and continued to move forward.

  ‘No! Please, Rufus!’ Tiernan begged – the King’s parting warning stayed him from arming himself to attempt to threaten the monster. ‘We must keep the gateway open!’

  You keep it open, Rufus suggested.

  ‘I can?’ Tiernan was ecstatic and yet horrified to learn.

  Half in, half out, very easy. Rufus extended his huge wings and gave them a flap as he prepared to take flight. One is going to sunrise.

  ‘Sunrise is not a place—’ Tiernan looked back to see the portal shrinking rapidly against the slimming girth of the beast’s exiting tail.

  He sprinted and launched himself feet-first into the light void, which closed around his middle as the tip of the dragon’s tail followed the rest of the beast into the morning sky.

  ‘Oh, dear Goddess . . .’ Tiernan rolled onto his stomach, to watch the creature ascend into the clouds above. ‘I lost a whole dragon.’

  Exiting the monument of the Night Hunter was like waking from a dream of which you only remembered fragments and even those were fleeting.

  Upon sighting the King, Brockwell stood and approached. ‘What news?’

  ‘The meeting was advantageous.’ King Owain was in good spirits.

  ‘Was it?’ Gwion couldn’t recall, but he had a very queasy feeling in his stomach.

  ‘The Night Hunter offered you a sword,’ Creirwy stated.

  ‘He did.’ The King grinned broadly.

  ‘So, of course, you accepted.’ She made it sound a foregone conclusion and a rather pathetic one at that.

  ‘I did.’ Owain’s joy waned a little.

  ‘Did my mother not warn you . . . have I not warned you, about accepting Otherworldly gifts?’ The young king rolled his head, clearly fed up with her lectures. ‘I was told you’d know where I could acquire it. At least, I assume you are the lady of the lake?’

  ‘You must accompany me home.’ Her hooded form moved back up the track towards the portal.

  ‘Is that where my invincible sword resides?’ Owain pursued her.

  ‘No.’ She was rude, but not hostile. ‘I just treasure your company so much that I want you to escort me home.’

  ‘Why are you always so angry?’ Owain appealed, clearly baffled by her ill mood.

  ‘Why are you always so daft?’ The Lady pushed forward with great speed.

  ‘On what do you base such a judgement?’ The King practically had to run to keep pace with her.

  ‘He must have paid dearly for such a favour,’ Morvran commented aside to Gwion as they fell in behind Brockwell and Bran.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Gwion remembered less and less with every moment that passed. ‘I may as well not have come.’

  ‘I’m sure the Night Hunter had some good reason for seeing you.’ Morvran smiled and Gwion was bedazzled a moment by the giant being’s genteel, friendly manner – or perhaps it was his glamour?

  ‘You are not at all as I expected,’ Gwion admitted. ‘And I wanted to thank you for saving my life yesterday; I am indebted to you.’

  ‘’Twas nothing.’ He waved off the incident. ‘I’m just grateful I didn’t scare you to death. Good show on your behalf, for not dying on me.’

  ‘Oh no!’ The Lady Tegid’s protest brought them all running.

  The gateway home had diminished considerably, and protruding from the remains of the misty light phenomenon were the feet of a young boy. Gwion was enraged – he’d warned the King not to leave the boy alone with the Otherworldly creature.

  ‘Tiernan!’ The King rushed over and took hold of his legs.

  ‘No, don’t pull him through, the gateway will close completely,’ the Lady warned, her arms extended in protest – yet it was not hands that extended from her sleeves, but deep blue vaporous tentacles.

  ‘Dear Goddess, what is she?’ Brockwell recoiled from her in horror, and Bran backed up with him.

  The Lady again withdrew entirely beneath the c
loak and Morvran stepped in.

  ‘Allow me.’ The giant gent stuck a hand into the void around the lad, and as he stood up the portal opened wide and they were able to view Tiernan.

  The boy rolled over upon being relieved of his burden and confronted the King hovering over him. ‘I moved,’ he confessed the plainly obvious.

  ‘And a good thing you did as we might have all been trapped in here for centuries!’ The King served the lad a wink and yet Tiernan screamed as he pointed up to Morvran holding the gateway – caught between dimensions, the handsome Fey gent had half mutated into the demonic Avagddu, and the struggle appeared painful.

  ‘Bran, relieve this man.’

  Bran did as instructed and Morvran ducked back into the middle kingdoms where he was entirely his beastly self once more. ‘Much obliged.’ He nodded in gratitude to the King and then Bran.

  The King set Tiernan on his feet and they cleared the passage for Brockwell, Gwion and the Lady Tegid to follow. When all were clear, Bran ducked out of the gateway and backed up into his home world to watch the Otherworldly passage vanish altogether.

  ‘What happened to the dragon?’ The Lady Tegid threw back her hood to question the lad, and she appeared as beautiful and as human as ever.

  ‘He saw the sunrise and wanted to go there,’ Tiernan recounted. ‘I tried to explain he’d never reach it, but he wouldn’t listen. He was bored.’

  ‘I knew Rufus was too young to be relied upon.’ The Lady was angry at herself. ‘Mother will be furious.’ She looked to her brother for aid.

  ‘Oh no, I’m not telling her.’ Morvran headed off down the track towards the camp. ‘Just remind her she put you up to this.’

  ‘I’m going to see my wife.’ Bran had had enough adventure.

  ‘Say nothing of this, ever,’ the King warned.

  ‘When I have grandchildren, this will come out,’ the hulk of a man vowed.

  ‘May you have many,’ the King agreed to those terms.