by Sarah Mussi
It’s all a bit mad. I suppose I’m hoping Draco will free Henry and zap! Kapow! Somehow he’ll fly here and pick us all up, and whoosh us over to Snowdon in time for the first day of spring. And Raaaarrr! He’ll just breathe one breath; a flame will ignite everything, and it’ll all be solved.
I say ‘us’. I look at George and Davey.
Whoosh me then.
There is so little time left.
Henry won’t arrive. I don’t know how I’ll get there. It’s a rubbish idea. It can’t happen like that. George is so cold beside me, I can’t leave him anyway. I stare out over the mountain. Only the ghostly glow of the moon gazes back.
Idris and Angharad return. Instead of a bitter glance from Idris, he actually smiles. I can see the pain in his eyes, and I can see why Angharad loves him so much.
He bears it very bravely.
‘Come,’ he says, ‘let us sit upon my lumpy old bed together and talk to the Great Dragon himself. His voice is even cheerful. I wonder how you can hold in so much sorrow, and still be so kind, so caring.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘We are all sorry,’ says Idris.
‘What will happen to George?’ I ask. ‘Is there any hope for him and Davey?’
At this, Angharad laughs, a beautiful melodious peal of laughter, it chimes like a mountain stream.
‘You must not worry about your two companions,’ she says. ‘When I am gone, they will wake.’
‘Now,’ says Idris, ‘let me lie upon my bed and see my stars.’
I don’t understand.
Angharad bends her head slightly and her silvery hair falls around her fragile face.
‘When I was alive,’ she says, ‘the Nine Witches of Gloucester put a curse upon me. The curse said: whichever man looketh upon me, will fall in love with me.’2
I’m not entirely sure that is a curse. In fact I’m totally positive that if Sheila had such a ‘curse’ put upon her, she would see it as a blessing. Who knows, even Rhiannon might enjoy a little bit of spellbound admiration.
Idris shifts George and Davey gently over and stretches out beside them.
Angharad shakes her head slowly: ‘It is not a blessing,’ she says, as if she reads my mind. ‘For when men fall in love with you under enchantment, it is to their ruin. They fight over you, as those possessed. They become jealous and vengeful, wild and enraged, and because their love is forced of them and not given freely and truly, no good comes of it.’
I’m pretty certain Sheila wouldn’t mind the downside.
‘And I only had love for one being.’ She glances up at Idris. ‘And he was not a man,’ she says, ‘and perhaps that is one of the reasons that I loved him the more, because not being a man, he did not fall in love with me through any magical means. He saw the real me and still loved, despite the curse upon me.’
Idris stops looking upwards, turns to her. ‘And I still do, and I still will – ’til the stones of this mountain crumble and all the seas run over its heights.’ He reaches out, softly touches her hand.
‘If your two friends were to wake,’ Angharad continues, ‘they would fall so deeply in love with me, it would ruin the rest of their lives. It is always like this when you employ magic against the natural will of a human soul.’
She shakes her head.
‘Their glimpse of me would haunt them. They would scour the earth to find me; nothing would satisfy them again. A terrible affliction and a terrible craving would start eating away at their hearts. It is for this reason I have cast a sleeping spell upon all men to whom I draw near. They will remain asleep while I am here.’
I can’t believe it! My blood races. George is OK. ‘Not forever?’ I need to hear her say it again.
‘When I am gone,’ she glances again at Idris.
‘Do not go,’ he whispers. ‘Stay with me through this last night?’
‘Then when I am out of range,’ she says, ‘your two companions can be easily awoken.’
Yay! I am soooo happy!
Suddenly, I see that the spell cast over George and Davey is for their own benefit. How horrible it would be to be forced to be in love with someone you could never have. I catch my breath. Am I in love with someone I can never have?
‘Then I will return to you, my beloved,’ she looks up at Idris, ‘and we will be alone until daybreak.’
Idris sits up, pulls her close, nods, strokes her hair. It shimmers like stardust.
‘No,’ she glides away. ‘Speak to your stars first.’
Idris thumps back down on the stone bed. Gazes upwards at the skies. Suddenly he cries out in a loud voice, ‘Do you hear me, Dragon?’ I’m surprised at the way he addresses the Great Draco – so directly. I don’t know quite what I was expecting, maybe some bowing and scraping and: ‘Oh Great, Wonderful Lord’ type thing.
Maybe he doesn’t want Draco to agree …
I bite my lip.
I wouldn’t blame him.
Idris looks directly up into the sky and shouts: ‘Draco! The will of Merlin has been broken on earth, and you are to blame for it. Aeons ago you took the part of the White Dragon against Merlin. That was wrong and now the venom brewed by the two of you that day has poisoned Wales.’
Wow! That was one sucker punch of an opening.
Idris continues. ‘Your most beloved, true and faithful fellow, the Red Dragon of Wales, has been forced to leave his homeland and fly back to join you in your constellation of stars,’ he bellows out with a righteous tone.
Even Angharad looks shocked.
‘YES, while you continue to weave your snake dance around the Pole Star, we endure the evil you have sown!’
Crikey, he isn’t mincing his words is he?
‘Your deeds have done this. I hold you to account. The Red Dragon is blameless and innocent, yet HIS heart has become tainted, when yours should have been.’
Angharad looks wide-eyed at Idris, as if she never realised how loud a giant could get when he was angry.
‘I will not appeal to you to meddle in the affairs of mankind; I know that the stars are eternal, and mankind just a short blink in the passage of time, and if the Fimbulvetr stays and mankind dies out, it is not your concern. So instead I conjure you by the powers of the Olde Deepe Magicke to put right this wrong.’
I blink.
‘By the Olde Deepe Magicke on this night to either undo your evil or stay forever fixed, unable to turn further in the precession of the equinoxes, when tomorrow the vernal equinox arrives.’
I gulp. He’s not giving Draco any wriggle room, is he?
‘Dragon, have a care! You may live forever, but if you do not release the Red Dragon of Wales to resume his watch upon these mountains, you will be forever held by your own wickedness. Therefore I invoke the lore of the Olde Deepe Magicke, I command you to choose: his freedom or your imprisonment. For so it is that the Olde Deepe Magicke works. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.’
Now I really am taken aback. I’m not entirely sure that you can command stars to do anything. But Idris does not seem unduly worried. And he is the Stargazer. He is the one who watches and understands their orbits around the sky, so have a little faith, Ellie, I tell myself.
Idris lowers his face and turns to me. ‘It is done,’ he says.
‘Already?’ I ask.
‘He does not need to answer,’ says Idris, ‘and even if he did, you would not hear his voice, for the language of the spheres is a symphony so beautiful, it would break your heart – even if you heard the slightest refrain. But I know all its melodies, and I know that for the stars to spin in their orbits, they must be true and all in tune. And especially this is so for Draco. For he is the one who guards the point upon which all else take their true compass. If he should make a false decision, then the Harmony of the Spheres will be in discord. There will be dissonance and a great shattering. Planets will explode, suns will burn out. He cannot allow that to happen.’
And now I understand how Idris could address Draco so boldly.
‘As you have heard, I have put to him the case of the Red Dragon, his banishment from earth was not wise or timely nor in the spirit of true Dragon Lore.’
‘So he’ll release Henry?’ I realise I’m not really breathing, just sucking in tiny sips of air as my heart does some kind of wild tango inside my chest.
‘Have no fear, he is already released.’
Already released.
A trembling begins in my shins. Then I feel it in my fingers. I can’t seem to hold on to the stones I’m sitting on.
Henry is released.
And my heart is singing louder than any crummy old Harmony of the Spheres.
I throw out my arms.
I want to put them around Angharad, around Idris. But she’s too wispy, so that’s impossible, and he is too large and I’ve never considered kneecap-hugging before.
But I do now.
And I throw my arms around his leg and squeal out ‘THANK YOU! OH THANK YOU!’
And for one tiny moment, I think I almost hear it: the music of the heavens.
I think I hear just one note.
And that note is singing:
‘HENRY IS FREE! HENRY IS COMING! HENRY WILL RETURN!’
1 After the mortal wounding of Arthur in the Pass of Arrows his men ascended to a ridge called Y Lliwedd and then down into a vast cave called Ogof Llanciau Eryri, ‘the young men of Snowdonia’s cave’, inside the cliff beside Llyn Llydaw. This place is called Cwm Dyli. A standing stone, the Menhir of Mawr, once marked the spot.[back]
2 In the Mabinogion, Peredur accompanies the Nine Witches of Caerloyw to the Witches’ Court where he learns the manner of their fighting. Peredur learns that the Witches of Caerloyw have slain a cousin of his. Peredur slays the witches, but not before they put a love curse upon Angharad to break his heart with her beauty and ensure that she dies when they do.[back]
FORTY-TWO
ELLIE’S PHONE 20 March 03.26
Status: UNBELIEVABLY HAPPEEE
Recent updates:
Rhiannon
Hon, where are you? Please don’t say you drowned. I’ve tried George’s phone, but it’s dead. I’m having a horrible time. You don’t know how sorry I am that I ever did that spell. I don’t want to be a witch any more. I had to do something that was very yucky. I don’t feel good about it. But the Knockers are happy. They came and got me and they are taking me home via their underground links (Lol – you could say I’m on the tube!). Just gonna eat some supper now. See you back home??
You didn’t drown did you?
Rhiannon
ELLIEEEEEEEEE – ping me!! I’m scared, and I said SORRY.
Sheila
Wot you so happy about?
I’m dizzy and excited and scared and happy and terrified, and in the process, I miss seeing Angharad leaving.
There are no footsteps, just a gentle swishing. At the back of all my muddle of thoughts, I hear the brush of something moving away over the snow. There’s no creak or crush, just the slight kiss of air on ice.
‘Angharad!’ Idris’s voice breaks, grows hoarse.
I snap back to now.
Angharad has gone, before I even had time to say goodbye.
A slight breeze whips up the snow on the top of the drifts. The powder spins. Shapes form and morph, I watch the particles whirl and sway, hoping to catch one last glimpse of her.
More icy dust. The crust on the snow by the cliffs crumbles. It turns into an eddy, spinning in small circular twists.
Just for one second on the cold hillside, beautiful, unearthly Lady Angharad swirls and is gone.
The last of the powdery snow settles.
I catch my breath. I will never see her again. A dull ache starts. Something of the enchantment over her has burrowed its way into my heart too.
‘Now,’ reminds Idris, ‘your companions may awake with no harm done.’
I’d like to ask Idris one more thing, because now I’m starting to panic. Has all this been for nothing? Henry is coming back, but to where and to whom and how long will it take? And we need to get his heart to the Menhir of Mawr, the Oracle stone, in the Pass of Arrows, by daybreak.
And we only have a few hours …
And …
I say as much. ‘Everything may be lost,’ I say, ‘all sacrifices in vain, if I cannot get the heart to the Pass of Arrows.’
Idris raises himself up. ‘You would tempt me, would you?’
I don’t understand. I look at him, confused.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It would be very tempting to leave you stranded here upon my mountain and glory in the fact that still your errand may fail.’ His voice grows loud, his face suddenly terrifying.
Then he passes a hand before his eyes, as if he is brushing away some evil spell that nearly trapped him. He sits down again, and smiles.
‘But,’ his voice gentles, ‘Angharad Golden-Hand has chosen, and I love and trust her. I respect and honour her. I believe in her, and so I will help you.’
‘You will?’ I gulp.
‘You will be by the Menhir of Mawr near the Cave of the Sleeping Knights when the first light of the first day of true spring breaks.’
‘I will?’
‘With the heart.’
‘But how?’
‘We giants have some cleverness that is our own. It is not only dragons who have special gifts.’
I look at him.
George rolls over, throws out an arm. He throws out an arm!
Thank God.
‘Yes,’ says Idris, ‘every self-respecting giant has a pair of seven-league boots, a golden harp, and of course a hen that lays golden eggs.’
He’s grinning now. I’m not sure if he’s pulling my leg.
‘Is that true?’ I ask, warily.
‘Fi fi fo fum,’ he teases.
I roll my eyes.
‘Well, everything except the hen,’ says Idris, ‘and actually the harp belongs to Angharad.’
George sits up and shakes his head.
GEE-ORGE!!!!
I forget everything and throw my arms around George’s neck. One MASSIVE bear-hug.
‘WOW!’ says George. ‘Whatever did I do to deserve that?’ Hastily, lest I change my mind, he hugs me back. Very tightly. Very, very tightly in fact.
‘Oh SHUT UP!’ I say.
And I’m so relieved, I kiss him.
Yep, a real smacker straight on the lips.
‘Bloody hell!’ says George.
I promptly burst into tears.
‘Crikey!’ he says. ‘I’m not that crap a kisser, am I?’
‘I thought you were DEAD!’ I scream in his ear. (We are still hugging V V tightly.)
‘Oh I see,’ says George. ‘Well, for you I can do dead any time.’
‘No you can’t. You’ve got to stay alive. Totally and completely and forever from now on.’ I unwind myself from his arms. Though they are very nice and muscly and manly.
‘Only if you’ll snog me – just every now and then – you know – just to remind me to stay alive,’ says George.
‘It’s a deal,’ I say. I’m so happy.
I even give pimply Davey a little minuscule hug cos I see he’s waking up too.
‘Good,’ says Idris. ‘So, if we’re ready to go … I’ve got a certain lady to get back to for one last hour before you stop the Olde Deepe Magicke.’
‘Right. The boots,’ I say. ‘Are they for real?’
‘You know this deal? The life-saving snogs?’ asks George. ‘Can I have an advance payment?’
‘I do believe you must be the giant, Idris Gawr?’ says Davey very formally.
‘Just a quick peck on the cheek?’ George persists. ‘Nothing major to begin with – just a little lip-lingering that might inspire confidence.’
‘Yes, I am Idris the Stargazer.’ Idris does a little bow to Davey.
‘Something that might encourage you to cross the Channel?’ George goes a bit dreamy-eyed.
‘Whaaat?’
‘I am … ’
Davey frowns. ‘Call me Davey.’ He sticks out his hand at Idris, in that oddly formal way of his.
‘I have heard much of you,’ says Idris to Davey.
‘To France,’ continues George, blowing me a stream of air kisses.
‘The boots?’ I remind Idris. ‘Are they for real?’
‘Yes, I do have a pair of seven-league boots,’ says Idris.
‘France,’ repeats George, pointedly.
‘Huh?’ What is George on about?
‘You know, to sample the French kiss?’
‘Oh stop it,’ I say.
‘Oh dear. OH DEAR!’ George squeals, ‘In that case, I think I’m dying.’
I lean over and kiss his forehead. ‘That’s to keep you going,’ I say. ‘Now we’ve got to go. Henry is free and the dawn is coming. We’ve only got the Cŵn Annwn to defeat, the White Dragon of Wessex to confront, various other mythical wotnot to subdue and a heart to purify in the first light of spring.’
George jumps up. ‘Have axe. Have true love. Have promised snog. Cannot die!’
‘We’ll never make it,’ says Davey entirely in character.
‘I’ll put my boots on then,’ says Idris. ‘Yes, I don’t have much else, but these are mine.’ From beneath a rock beside the bed Idris drags out a pair of mega-sized boots.
I really like the idea of seven-league boots.
‘And they are giant boots too,’ says the giant.
But even though I like the idea of the boots, and I can see it might only take a few strides to get us back to Snowdon, I can’t see how that will help all of us.
Davey brushes one skinny forearm over his eyes. ‘I had such a weird dream,’ he murmurs.
Perhaps I could beg Idris to carry me and leave the others here?
Bad plan. You know, me alone against the entire Olde Deepe Magicke.
Luckily Idris has thought of this too. ‘My plan,’ says Idris, ‘is to carry all of you.’ He smiles down at me from his great height. ‘I think I’m strong enough, don’t you?’
And I see, despite the heartbreak behind his smile, Idris is actually quite excited about wearing his seven-league boots again.