This Present Past

by Traci Harding

  Gwion found the idea of frequenting a hub between worlds both thrilling and unnerving. ‘So the Goddess opened a portal at this end for us?’

  ‘Exactly. She and I can link telepathically when needs be.’

  ‘What an amazing family you have,’ Gwion uttered, slightly ill at ease as he wondered how telepathic Creirwy was with everyone else.

  ‘And you haven’t even met Father yet.’

  Gwion had forgotten about the giant to whom Keridwen was reportedly wed. He was known as the Lord Tegid Foel – Lord Tegid ‘the bald’. ‘What is he like?’

  ‘Father? He is the sweetest of souls . . . Morvran takes after him.’ Creirwy’s smile was the most sincere that Gwion had seen her sport in some time.

  ‘I like your brother very much.’ He turned to view the castell, which was the biggest fortification he’d ever seen – yet it didn’t appear adequate to accommodate a man of extraordinary size.

  ‘She doesn’t look like much from the outside . . .’ Lady Tegid led him around the carriage towards the iron gate of the portcullis, which rose to grant them entry. ‘But physical matter is more pliable here.’

  That was certainly an interesting statement. Gwion could hardly wait to learn the meaning, or to have words with the Goddess about her interest in him. If Creirwy had healed his wounds with Keridwen’s brew, the Goddess had allowed it – why?

  So, this was where it began.

  Keridwen and her kin had come to frequent this planet hundreds of thousands of years ago. Since then she had encountered this soul-mind many times, and they had a history even prior to Gaia’s terraforming. Yet the soul in question had never presented like this before – as a human, yes, but as a mortal . . . never. He had always maintained that in some future age he would be born mortal, but the Time Lord had not divulged when that might be, nor how he had acquired his immortal state of being. Keridwen had been waiting and watching out for the Lord’s arrival, just as she had vowed to him she would. Her name had not been Keridwen then, nor were her folk known as the Fey – humanity had given them many different names over the aeons they had been moving in and out of the physical realms of the middle kingdoms that existed between the Otherworld and the Underworld. The soul in question had been the supreme ruler of her people once, and was the only soul-mind of her ilk to ever forfeit his immortality to the divine creator in order to incarnate himself into the human race. At that time, none of her folk could understand why their ruler would do such a thing; many saw it as a betrayal! Most would still not comprehend the motivation behind such a move. But now, considering how mankind was advancing and the degeneration of many of her kin into self-indulgence and narcissism, Keridwen understood. He had known that it was humanity that would ultimately lead her kin to spiritual salvation, and that’s what this soul was here to do – to lead both humanity and the Fey out of darkness. He bore little semblance to the Time Lord that was his immortal self, and it would be something of a delight to witness that transformation – perhaps even be a catalyst for it. But somewhere inside this weak, prematurely aged, scrawny excuse for a lad was ‘the shining one’ – hidden from human sight, but obvious to any with an active third eye to see.

  Gwion was turning in circles, admiring her throne room – much larger than the hovel of a castle outside denoted. ‘How?’ he proclaimed at last, his jaw gaping open. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this!’

  He was referring to the splendid round room with its curves and arches of cream, gold-laced marble supporting a large transparent dome overhead – beyond which the gathering storm clouds passed.

  ‘There has yet to be anything that has surpassed Atlantean architecture.’ She was amused by how awestruck he was. ‘Is it too much?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Gwion spluttered. ‘It’s . . . amazing!’

  ‘I could change it if you like?’ she teased.

  ‘Pardon?’ Gwion’s face reflected his bemusement.

  Keridwen envisioned the room square, in sandstone, more akin to what Gwion might expect, with a pitched timber ceiling, a mosaic tile floor and flaming torches around the walls.

  As the transformation of his environs unfurled around him, Gwion laughed with delight and his happy gaze turned to her daughter.

  ‘Pliable.’ She shrugged, her delight reflecting his own to a degree. ‘Mother never puts on a show like this for anyone . . . you are very honoured.’

  Gwion appeared startled and then turned and bowed before the throne. ‘Forgive me, Goddess, I completely forgot myself . . . I am indeed honoured to be received so warmly by your house.’

  ‘Arise, Gwion. I am thankful to see you still living.’ She looked to Creirwy. ‘You were right to fetch him here before our young, over-zealous sovereign made a catastrophic mistake.’

  Gwion had questions, many, many questions – he was having trouble prioritising them in his mind. ‘I am flattered and humbled, but since when—’

  ‘Has the loss of one life been considered a catastrophe?’ Keridwen finally tapped into his train of thought, and watched him boggle.

  ‘You can read my mind?’ he squeaked.

  ‘Do you have something to hide?’ Clearly, the lad carried a flame for her daughter. The question was just a tease; Keridwen could read everything about him, and could teach him how to shield his thoughts. Should she? Not just yet.

  ‘I . . . I don’t think so.’

  Gwion’s mind was awhirl with embarrassing moments and petty lies he’d told as he tried to recall any serious offence. He felt a lot of guilt for not having been able to nurse his father back to health. Gwion had been out bartering wood for food, and when he’d returned to their small roundhouse by the river he found that the fire within had gone out and his father was frozen dead. The heaviness in his chest warranted intervention.

  ‘You did all you could for Gwreang. It was just his time, Gwion. Your father died warm by the fire soon after you left and your being there would not have prevented it.’

  Gwion gasped back stunned tears and Keridwen didn’t have to ask Creirwy to depart, she was already on her way. Gwion waited for the door to close before turning back to query: ‘You know that for certain?’ His emotion was choking him and Keridwen felt this and learned from it. So much hurt in her throat and a great pure force welled in her heart, fit to explode.

  ‘I swear to you, it is the truth.’ She smiled, feeling the energy in his heart burst through the pain in his neck. ‘You feel relief?’

  ‘Oh yes, Goddess. It is a great relief . . . I am most thankful to know my father did not perish due to my ill judgement . . . and I feel joy to have been delivered to such a wondrous place.’

  ‘Despite all that has befallen you since you have made our acquaintance, we do not scare you, woodsman?’ She sensed no fear whatsoever.

  Growing up in squalor as Gwion had may have been rough, but it had taught him to live constantly in the present. Gwion had no agenda beyond saving the souls of the Saxon undead and seducing her daughter; and both were issues that were no longer of any real concern.

  Gwyn ap Nudd had struck some cruel bargains lately. She’d told the Night Hunter many times that, for the ruler of the emotional realm, he was a heartless imp. Human beings will never learn how to emotionally detach themselves from physical world delights if they are never challenged to do so, he would say. They cling to objects, experiences and people they love, then get stuck in the reincarnation circle . . . round and round. I am doing them a favour by expediting their pain and suffering so they can learn to transcend it and thus advance in the great universal scheme. The Lord of the Otherworld would also point out that humans sought him out and made these pacts by their own will – they need not have anything to do with him or his elemental reapers.

  ‘A wondrous thing is not to be feared.’ Gwion stated his views in regard to the family Tegid. ‘And you were absolutely right that Morvran is anything but a monster. And you, Goddess, appear anything but an old crone.’

  Ah, so he had noticed that her appea
rance had changed since their last meeting, for she wore her more youthful human persona now – her form was as easily altered as the architecture. To Gwion’s eyes she now appeared as a slender, tall woman in her prime, with wild dark hair and Fey-like eyes of green-grey. ‘If I appeared so becoming before the armies of the King, they would not fear me and spurn me as they do.’

  ‘Most wise,’ Gwion warranted – quietly in awe of her ability to change form. ‘Still, I do wonder what it is that you have in mind for me?’

  What she had in mind was a task that would keep him close, where she could keep an eye on him and prevent enterprising others from taking advantage of his compassionate nature and keen mind before he’d even begun to explore his own potential. ‘The task will require great diligence, patience and mental stamina . . . for as crucial as the task is, it also promises to be exceedingly monotonous.’

  Gwion thought on this. ‘How long is this task estimated to take?’

  ‘One year, one day and one hour.’

  Her guest was taken aback by the answer. ‘That is a very precise estimate, Highness . . . and from tales I’ve heard tell, such timelines are usually associated with—’

  ‘Spells,’ she concurred. ‘I wish to brew a unique potion to aid my sweet son, Morvran—’

  ‘To make him appear as his true self?’

  If only she could, her son would have every beauty in the land vying for his attention. ‘I cannot overrule his Otherworldly curse, but by giving him the gift of soothsaying, I hope to make it easier for him to win friends and influence in this world he loves so well.’

  ‘It is a splendid plan, Highness, though Morvran has won my friendship in any case.’

  ‘That is why I feel you shall not be tempted to steal such an inheritance out from under my boy, who would also be working with you, and Morda, on this project.’

  ‘What must I do?’ The lad was cautious not to agree until he knew her plan was morally sound – Keridwen loved that he was so pure of heart.

  ‘Nothing terrible,’ she laughed away his fears. ‘I simply want you to perform your woodsman duties for the cauldron in which the potion shall be brewed.’

  The mention of the word cauldron sent a shiver through the lad, and Keridwen was quick to reassure him.

  ‘Not that cauldron.’ The statement set him immediately at ease. ‘That item has been locked away where it can do no more harm.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘I will not say.’

  ‘That is well.’ He smiled, inwardly satisfied that there could not be a repeat of their recent trials.

  ‘There is no need for you to go back and heal the Saxons who remain undead.’ She felt his relief turn to panic in a heartbeat. ‘Their souls will be freed to their eternal pursuits upon death, just as I promised. The abyss your friend perceived was another little Night Hunter joke, thrown in to manipulate you into letting yourself be sucked of vital life force – the Lord of the Otherworld could just as easily have created a blissful mind-space for the spirits of the undead to inhabit while their bodies did the cauldron’s bidding. Make no mistake, Creirwy saved your life by preventing you from healing the enemy.’

  ‘But—’ Gwion wanted to argue his king’s cause and save lives.

  ‘Gwyn ap Nudd will not allow you to manipulate his rules so easily.’ She already knew Gwion’s plan to extend his king’s reign, because the Lord of the Otherworld was aware of it and had asked Keridwen to pass on the message that he would not be so deceived.

  Gwion closed his mouth, feeling rather foolish to have thought a simple woodsman could outsmart the Lord of the Otherworld.

  ‘That is not to say that one day you won’t be powerful and wise enough to clash wills with the Night Hunter and win.’ The last thing Keridwen wished to do was to undermine his confidence.

  Gwion squirmed a little. ‘Does the Night Hunter not hear all?’

  ‘Not here at Castell Tegid; I have complete autonomy.’ The claim made her guest’s jaw fall open. ‘A little something I won in a game of Gwyddbwyll. Here we are at liberty to speak, safe from the Night Hunter’s prying dominions.’

  Gwion’s panic subsided and his head cleared. ‘How could any mortal hope to match wits with the Night Hunter?’

  ‘Why would any mortal want to?’ Keridwen posed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gwion confessed. ‘I remember next to nothing of my conversation with him, but . . . I just feel in my bones he is up to no good. Do you know why the Lord of the Otherworld would wish me harm?’

  Keridwen knew all right – theirs was a rivalry that went back a long way. ‘Yours is a destiny that is beyond his control.’

  For a moment the lad froze and so did his thoughts and emotions – Keridwen would have feared him dead, were his heart not beating in his throat. ‘And what is my destiny?’

  She forced a smile, a little disappointed he would ask. ‘Clearly, you are even greener behind the ears than I realised.’

  ‘Are you implying that is something I must discover for myself?’

  ‘Indeed. But that is not to say I cannot guide you in the right direction. Cosmic law is not easily learned, but I might be willing to mentor you in the greater mysteries, if you wish it?’ She felt the huge bursts of excited energy emanating from his heart centre and it made her tingle all over.

  ‘Oh my gosh!’ He fell to his knees before her. ‘I . . . I can’t possibly think of anything that would please me more! You are far too generous, Goddess. How shall I ever find the words, the means, to express my gratitude?’

  ‘Befriending my son was a good start. Morvran desperately needs companionship and someone he can trust with this secret.’ She looked deep into Gwion’s eyes – a gaze that was unafraid to meet hers. ‘And my daughter . . .’ Gwion’s eyes wanted to waver, but did not. ‘She too will need a friend in the years ahead. Your pure heart will guide her towards a more peaceful path than that she has been following, for she, like all the Fey, does not have control of her emotions like you do. You must not mistake your love for her as reciprocated; she is merely picking up on your feelings and intentions and projecting them back at you. It’s a situation that is easily taken advantage of.’

  That explained why Creirwy was so childish and nonchalant around Owain, and why Gwion and the King perceived her so differently. You mistake me for our young, over-zealous sovereign, thought Gwion, and was immediately filled with remorse. She heard that.

  ‘Not so completely pure in thought and intention after all?’ Keridwen was a little riled by his knowledge of her daughter’s indiscretion, but then Creirwy would insist on baiting the new king about it. ‘But you are correct. Your moral code and Owain’s, or most human beings’ for that matter, are a world apart. I feel my children are both in good company with you.’

  ‘It would be my honour to serve you and your house in any fashion you see fit.’

  ‘Without even asking what’s in it for you?’ Keridwen chuckled, so tickled by his inner excitement that she was starting to feel faint and she fanned her face in a bid to calm the joy passing over her in great waves.

  ‘Being here, serving you, learning from you, what more could any man want?’

  ‘Food, shelter, payment?’ she reasoned.

  ‘If it pleases your highness, I will starve and sleep with the livestock,’ Gwion boasted, only half in jest.

  ‘Fortunately for you that shan’t prove necessary.’ She motioned him to rise, and he did so.

  Creirwy re-entered the room at her mother’s unspoken command.

  ‘You should rest,’ she instructed. Although in truth it was Keridwen who needed a rest from the lad’s surging emotions – human beings were taxing that way.

  ‘I doubt I shall sleep for a week, Highness,’ said Gwion, as Creirwy joined him.

  ‘Feel free to explore; we have nothing to hide here. Still, that is not to say that there are not places you might prefer to avoid and things from which you might choose to hide.’ Keridwen smiled.

  ‘She’s teasing,’
Creirwy advised their guest as he looked so worried. ‘All of Castell Tegid is perfectly splendid.’

  The poor lad didn’t know who to believe and did not want to falsely accuse either lady of toying with him. ‘Perhaps I am a little weary after all.’

  Creirwy suppressed a smile. That Gwion was now adverse to exploring alone was just the way Keridwen preferred it – a cautious nature was best at Castell Tegid. ‘Follow me, and I’ll show you to a room.’

  Once they had cleared Keridwen’s reception chamber the doors closed in their wake – all by themselves.

  ‘So many wonders!’ Gwion uttered, inspired beyond measure to think that he might one day understand how it all worked.

  The Goddess was most generous and every bit as comely as her daughter – tall, slender and proud! Yet Keridwen’s hair was very dark, curly and wild, while her large eyes were the green-grey colour of a stormy sea. He wondered which woman – the witch or the goddess – was closer in truth to who Keridwen really was? Or perhaps her nature and appearance were entirely different again?

  ‘So what manner of accommodation had you imagined yourself occupying during your stay at Castell Tegid?’ his guide asked playfully as Gwion gazed up at the huge bronze wheel of candles that was burning overhead, hung from chains to the ceiling.

  There were also candle sconces evenly distributed on every second section of the framed wall panelling, around the foyer and up the stairwell. These sconces featured three candles each, their bronze bases woven in knots about each other into one trunk that turned inward and melted into a tall bronze plate affixed to the wall. All the candles burned brightly, yet not one drop of melted wax fell.

  ‘I am happy wherever you would put me,’ answered Gwion.

  ‘No . . . that’s not how it works here—’ Creirwy led him up an ornately carved, curving wooden staircase carpeted in luscious gold velvet.

  Gwion paused at the bottom, afraid his filthy boots might damage the pristine floor covering.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Creirwy asked.