Chapter 13 - Remnants

by james attwood

Morning begun to shine on the waters of Cantre’r Gwaelod. The warm glow of the horizon framed the devastation in a beautiful, if not sombre, light. Not that what had fallen to the depths could be seen now, only the ring of what walls remained above the waves offered any indication of a city at all.

Maeve and her father had been sat in silence for some time, stuck atop their tower, safe but hopelessly isolated. She’d witnessed her father, after much pained deliberation, pull the spine from her mother’s stomach. The experience had roused the dazed Zoe to some heightened state of fever before she fell unconscious once more. Raymond tried to treat the wound as best he could, though it festered with ungainly boils. He worried deeply for her, over whether he’d done the right thing, over whether she’d ever wake again. Maeve couldn’t tell as much mind, his stoic handling of their situation thus far seemed farcical to her, she wished he’d just cry and surrender to the direness of the hand which they’d been dealt. If not just for a moment, just so that she could lament in kind. With Zoe asleep the void between them felt oppressive, she found what little comfort she could in running her fingers through Gelert’s tangled mane.

            “Dammit.” Raymond cursed as he surveyed the expanse of water between them and the coast. They’d hoped to walk the walls yet gaping holes on both sides made the idea seem all but impossible. “We’re going to have to swim for it. I can carry your mother as far as we can make it along the perimeter, then we’ll just have struggle through the rest.”

            “Dad, I don’t think I could...” Maeve shied from outright saying the notion of swimming that distance terrified her.

            “I know, I know.” Raymond barely looked her way as he rubbed his chin in thought, “I’ll swim Zoe to dry land and come back for you, you’ll be safe on the wall with Gelert whilst I-”

            “What if the Afanc is still down there?”

            “We’re either starving to death up here or making a go for it, monster or no monster.”

            “And we’re not going to look for the others? For uncle Lewis...Orson...” they’d been through this before, but Maeve couldn’t let go, “...a-an-and Hope and Fre-”

            “I’m trying my best here okay!” Raymond cut her short, his calm demeanour slipping as his daughter asked him the impossible yet again. “Listen, I’m sorry but...we have to work with what we’ve got. Your mother is sick, maybe it’s just from the wound or maybe there’s some kind of poison, I don’t know. But I do know a witch who lives north of here who’s already worked miracles for us, so I’m going to do everything I can to get us there.” Gelert crooked his head and inquisitively whined as Maeve held him tighter. Her father anticipated she’d ask the same of him again, so he continued, “As for everybody else they’re god knows where. You saw that tower break off into the sea, they could-they...” he almost choked at the thought of what might have happened to his two youngest, “...we didn’t even see what happened to Lewis and Orson and your aunt Aria? Honey nobody could’ve...” Again, he held his tongue, remiss to guess at the fate of his family.

            Maeve’s bottom lip trembled; she’d seen it all as well as he had yet deep down she still hoped to hear her father tell her they would all be alright. “So, she’s dead...that’s what you’re saying! You’re just giving up on all of them!”

            “I’m not giving up on anyone!” The echo of Raymond’s retort throughout the empty castle tower brought an abrupt pause to their argument. He kneeled to her level, stared at the floor for a moment trying to decide how best to put it, then spoke softly. “I’m not giving up...I’m just trying to keep what I can see alive. If I spend all day searching for Hope or Fred or anyone else there might not be enough time for Zoe. Right now, you and your mother are my priority. If we can get her to Ceridwen she might be able to help her. Then, and only then, can I start worrying about everyone else. Her and Taliesin, they saw you guys in a vision, that’s how we knew to come here. Maybe she could help us find the others the same way.”

            “So you don’t think they’re dead?” What tears had welled in his daughter’s eyes began to subside.

            “Oh Maeve, of course I don’t. I just-I just can’t believe that. I’m going to search every damn corner of this world, and I won’t stop until I’ve found them. But not until I know you and your mother are safe. In the meantime, at least we know Hope and Fred are with your uncle Idris, he’ll keep them safe.” Raymond could barely manage a half smile, but it was enough to ease his daughter’s mood, though with this clarity of mind she now knew she’d been denying herself one truth.

            “Aria...she was right there when the gate...” Tears re-emerged, they’d both seen the catastrophic collapse Aria had been at the centre of. Raymond didn’t say anything more on the matter, he just slowly nodded and pulled his daughter in close to comfort her.

            Their quiet embrace was broken when they heard the beating of wings approaching. Gelert stood to attention, barking like a guard dog, until Maeve petted his back and assured him it was a friend.

            “It’s okay boy, that’s the Eagle that helped us before, she’s a friend!” She exclaimed as the old Eagle swooped in and perched atop the rubble that lined the crumbling balcony. Maeve bowed her head, remembering the respect the others had treated this regal bird with. She tugged at her father’s coat which saw him awkwardly nod in kind.

            “I had hoped the storm last night had been only a storm, but this...” the Eagle peered over Cantre’r Gwaelod, in awe at how the landscape had changed so suddenly, “...where are Hope, Fred, Orson...the rest of your kin?”

            “We were all split up when the gates broke, they’ve washed out to sea or...” Maeve hung her head sullenly.

            “I am sorry, I... I should have been here to help you.” The shame the Eagle felt was obvious, she no longer held herself with pride.

            “Honestly I don’t know what you could’ve done to change things, you just as likely would’ve ended up in that monster’s jaws.” Raymond spoke with as much humility as he could, conversing with a five-foot eagle was certainly the latest on the list of his strange experiences. “I’m Ray by the way, thank you for helping my kids, Maeve told me all about you.”

            “No need for thanks, we were fulfilling a promise to another.” The Eagle felt guilt in taking any praise amidst the ruins she’d avoided so. Regardless, she could help now. “I would not leave you stranded here, your horses are still bound by the banks far end, I could ferry you across one at a time.” She looked at the ailing Zoe, still slumped and oblivious to all around her. “I fear I could not carry you much further mind.”

            “That would be more than we could ask for, thank you Eagle.” Maeve bowed again despite the familiarity this shared tragedy afforded them.

            One by one they were carried across, those powerful talons gripping them by the shoulders as gently as they could. The Eagle flew as low as she felt comfortable to save her cargo’s stomachs, yet even in broad daylight she feared what lay beneath the surface of the water. The glide through the sea breeze roused Zoe from her daze, though she could barely stand as she was left on her own two feet. Finally, the Eagle approached with Raymond in tow, swaying clumsily with each beat of her impressive wings as it was clear the rescue effort had exhausted her. With an ungraceful thud Raymond stumbled to the floor, the Eagle collapsing not far behind him.

            “That is everyone...” The Eagle panted; wings numb from the experience.

            “Raymond?” Zoe leant against one of the horses by her daughter’s side, her eyes staring in her husband’s direction but seemingly vacant.

            “Yeah it’s me Zoe, how are you feeling?” He came her way though still there was little reaction.

            “Awful...but alive.” She touched at the side of her stomach nervously, expecting some gaping hole yet she was more intact than she felt.

            “She can’t see a thing Dad.” Maeve explained with worry as she waved a hand in front of her mother’s face.

            Lightheaded, Zoe wearily nodded and slumped back to the ground. Catching her fall, Raymond stressed, “We have to get her back to Ceridwen.”

            They mounted two of their faithful horses, who seemed none the wiser to the flooding that had occurred before their very eyes, and set the others free. Even unrestrained the mares headed north, back to the old crone no doubt, Raymond concluded.

            “What will you do now Eagle?” Maeve asked before they parted, as uncomfortable atop this horse as she was suspended above the sea.

            “I will convene with the Salmon, to let him know of what has occurred, that Gwydion is still at large.” The Eagle stared at the open ocean, as if hoping to spot some person she’d missed before. “Then I will scour the seas for your family.”

            “Thank you, really.” Maeve couldn’t quite grasp the Eagle’s change in demeanour, yet she was glad for it, she only wished it hadn’t come at such a cost.

            “It is the least I can do child…what action do you plan to take in regard to the Gwydion dilemma?”

            Maeve mulled over a response as if she’d accepted it was her calling now. “We have to get mum to Ceridwen first, but once were all together again I suppose we have to try something diff-”

            “Woah, woah, there’s no plan for Gwydion alright.” Raymond jostled his horse in between the two of them, a staunch look on his face. “The plan is we’re finding our family and getting the hell out of here.”

            “I apologise, it is wrong to place such matters on a stranger’s shoulders.” The Eagle bowed her head in submission, perhaps her expectations had been naive. “I meant no disrespect.”

            “I’ll be forever grateful for how you helped my children, really, but whatever hope we had of dealing with that madman washed away with that damned city. We’re just ordinary people, a normal family. I’m done taking chances.” Again, Raymond found himself embarrassed at his own temper, yet he’d had enough of this world’s expectations of his daughter, optimistic or not.

            The Eagle peered towards Maeve who’d shied away at her father’s interjection, “You are right, it is not up to you to mend this broken world.” She gave Raymond an understanding nod and looked to the sea once more, “I meant what I said however, I will do what I can to find the others.”

            “Thank you.”

            Maeve smiled, “And I hope we see each other again.”

            “As do I, as do I.” The Eagle spread its wings and took off towards the woodland that concealed Llyn Llyw within its labyrinthine depths.

            There were many miles still to cover and her mother’s condition was worsening, they’d have to make haste. Following her father’s lead, they galloped into the sun kissed countryside. As she held on tight to the reigns she glanced one last time at the submerged city and made a promise to those they’d lost, I’m not giving up on any of you.

*

The morning hours had worn away quickly in their unabated rush for the enchantress’s hut. Rolling fields of frosted grass, as green as emeralds in the crisp winter sun, had now given way to murkier scenes. Thick fog and crooked woods began to cloak their path from the light, and without the open sky above their course became less clear. The trees that blinkered the sun could have belonged to the forest which encompassed Llyn Tegid or somewhere else entirely. Nevertheless, they trusted in the horses, after all they were loyal to Ceridwen, and Raymond held out hope that through magic or instinct alone they would know their way back. Given the density of their surroundings their pace slowed to save the horses any injury. Maeve could finally sit up and not cling to the beast for dear life, though she would have chosen to be past these haunting woods quickly over comfort.

            “I hope the others are safe, wherever they are.” Zoe moaned, the ease in motion giving her strained wound a brief respite, not that she’d complained. She’d wrapped her hands around her husband’s waist like a limpet this whole time, even if she could barely speak or see, she still had strength enough to cling on. “I hate to think what Hope and Fred might be going through...”

            “They’re resourceful kids, you saw how far they and Maeve got without us.” He didn’t look back to their daughter but intended it as a complement. He hadn’t quite said it, but he couldn’t have been prouder of her for getting the children back into their arms, no matter how briefly.

            Zoe could barely articulate a sentence, but the answer was what she was hoping to hear. “You’re right, they’ll probably all be waiting for us at Ceridwen’s.”

            “Mum...Dad, what the Eagle was talking about before, I know we have priorities, but we can’t leave it like this...I...” Maeve began to stutter as she reflected on a matter she realised her father was all too rigid on, but she wanted to know their family hadn’t been dragged through the mud for nothing.

            Zoe could feel her husband tense at the mere notion of playing hero. She whispered so that only he could hear, “Go easy on her, she just needs a little direction.”

            He sighed, took a deep breath, and asked, “What’s your plan?”

            Maeve hadn’t expected such a response. She let out a baffled, “Hm?”

            “Say we find everyone, get your mother all fixed up, what then?”

            “Oh I... the Salmon hoped, and so did I really, that we could talk to Gwydion, convince him we weren’t the solution. That obviously went horribly, horribly wrong. I should’ve known he wouldn’t be convinced. So, I’ve been thinking...” She listed off, too nervous to say the extent of her thoughts out loud.

            “Go on honey, we’re just thinking out loud here.” Her mother encouraged.

            “...I think we should talk with the other side. With king Arawn.” She seemed to fall back on her saddle as far as she could without falling off, afraid of her parents’ reaction.

            “Arawn? The devil guy, grim reaper, lord of hell?” Raymond went on with the figure’s concerning aliases, “Out of the question.”

            “He’s not like that, at least not in the stories.” With her father’s knee jerk response out of the way she went about arguing her case, “You heard what Gwydion said, Arawn and Pwyll became good friends.”

            “This is the one you mentioned before right? Where they switched places?” Zoe murmured, not quite able to turn her head all the way to face her.

            “That’s the one!” Maeve beamed. Her mother couldn’t see it, but she could picture her enthused little face, eyes lit up. “Pwyll ran into him by chance when they tried to claim the same deer as their hunt, could’ve been a big problem for someone like Gwydion, but Arawn and Pwyll just talked. Both kings admitted they had all kinds of problems at home, and kind of realised they might have more in common than they knew. So, they agreed to switch places for a year and a day, king of the afterlife and a human, pretty wild. Arawn even cast a spell, to make Pwyll look exactly like him, so that nobody would know. Even so, the whole time Pwyll never laid a finger on Arawn’s wife…I suppose that was Abertha…you can see why they became friends. And it worked, Pwyll came through and solved a lot of Arawn’s problems where he’d struggled and Arawn did much the same in Wales for Pwyll. I guess it just took a new perspective.”

            She paused a second to catch her breath then slowed down, “I’m just saying, he doesn’t seem like a monster to me, if anything he comes across as more reasonable than Gwydion by a mile...” She fumbled over her words as if she were in school once more, addressing a discerning classroom of judges, but her parents listened on. “Everyone I’ve spoken to about Annwn has told me it isn’t some defined afterlife, it can be whatever you make of it…and if grandma and grandad are up there making the most of whatever life they can find there...I think it’s worth talking to Arawn...I don’t know...”

            The silence that followed was numbing, and only broke when Gelert, slumped over the horses back like a sack, yawned wide. “I think we can agree that it’s...important, if it’s all true. Honestly with everything that’s happened it could well be Maeve.” Zoe eked out a middle ground, it was difficult to reconcile her daughter’s need for a resolution with their very serious circumstances, but how could she doubt her when everything else had proven so real.

            “I’ll think about it.” Raymond bluntly accepted.

            Maeve was again taken by surprise, “Really?”

            “Only, and I mean only, when we’re all back together and I know that we’re safe...then...then I’ll think about it.”

            “Thank you, thank you!” She was overcome, perhaps there was a chance they’d return home and see this world put back to normal as well.

            Zoe hugged Raymond for the admission, she knew it couldn’t have been easy as nothing was on either of their minds besides finding their family and fleeing far from this place. There was still one small problem though, “How would we contact Arawn anyway?”

            Maeve’s deluge of answers ran suddenly dry, “Um, that I don’t-”

            A blood curdling screech suddenly echoed throughout the forest, startling the foremost horse to rear its front legs in some panicked display to whatever invisible voice had spooked it. Zoe and Raymond were thrown from its back to the tangled ground below as the mare fled like an animal possessed into the brush. Gelert leapt from Maeve’s horse and began encircling the group, barking defensively to ward off any would-be stalkers, perhaps a fruitless gesture but one that calmed the other horse quickly. By the time he’d settled it was as if there had been no cry at all, the woods falling silent as quickly as they’d been disturbed.

            Zoe and Raymond rolled from atop one another and brushed themselves down. “What the hell was that!?” Zoe asked, terrified and blind.

            “I have no bloody idea.” Raymond sighed, giving Zoe a leg up on to the back of Maeve’s mount. “Were down a horse though, looks like you and me are walking from here on out boy.”

            “It wasn’t one of those bwbachs you were talking about was it Maeve?” Zoe queried, hoping there might be some innocent explanation as opposed to some grim fairy-tale monstrosity.

            “I don’t think they made noises like that; they barely made a noise at all.”

            “Whatever it was scared our horse half to death, and he happily sat outside that Afanc’s lair all night.” Raymond grabbed the reigns of their sole horse and began to resume their trail, Gelert pacing by his side. “So, let’s be careful.”

            Their trek had barely resumed when Raymond caught a familiar sight. From behind the treeline, deeply entombed in the warped forest, lay an old, abandoned farmstead. He’d remembered the odd sight from their path the night before, they’d briefly glimpsed its decrepit walls on the way past. When it was occupied it must have been a modest settlement, home to a family or two perhaps, but now nature had reclaimed its foundations and replanted its fields with crops of its own. Despite being lost to the ages, two scarecrows still stood vigil in the front allotment, their faces hung and frayed with straw, crude farm tools in hand.

            “Hey Zoe, it’s that farmhouse we passed, we must be on the right track.” Raymond shouted out; aware his wife wasn’t privy to what he was seeing.

            “How far away are we then?” Maeve asked her favourite question to ask on long journeys.

            “Few hours maybe?” Zoe guessed; they hadn’t exactly been keeping time.

            Maeve gazed around the quiet hovel; she could’ve sworn she saw an old barn door swing slightly on its hinges. “Nobody home is there?”

            “No, there was just a bunch of pi-” Raymond began to answer until they stumbled upon a grim sight. Splayed dead on the road was one of said pigs, its stomach torn open and scattered unceremoniously across the dirt. He turned to warn the others, yet his daughter’s horrified look suggested she’d already seen it. “Maeve don’t look.”

            “Wha-what did that?” She stuttered, white as ghost.

            “I don’t know...” he squatted down and surveyed the grizzly remains, “...a wolf or something?”

            The clattering of something caught the dog’s attention as he ran off behind the ivy-covered barn.

            “Gelert no!” Raymond shouted after him, yet he’d already disappeared around the corner.

            “What’s going on Ray!?” Zoe spoke out into the murky dark, wishing she could see what her family were struggling with.

            “Dog’s run off, just-just stay here with Maeve.” He yanked a pitchfork from the hands of one of those scarecrows and sized it up in his hands. “You see anything dangerous; you make that horse run for it as fast as it can okay Maeve?”

            “But-”

            “No ifs or buts, you’ve got your mother to think about.” He sternly gestured before treading after Gelert.

            Raymond searched around, eyes darting between the various corners of these grounds and back to his wife and daughter on the road. Soon a faint whimpering caught his ears, Gelert was inside the barn. He crept through its moulded doors to see the hound, hunched low, in distress about whatever lay in the darkness ahead. Ray tried to beckon him quietly but soon found himself facing the same oddity as another swine staggered from the back of the barn.

Its stomach was so bloated it dragged through the hay covered floor, clearly in some pain. Raymond could tell the sight confused the dog as much as it did him, as Gelert rocked on the spot unsure of whether to help or flee. It managed to reach the barn’s centre before it slumped to its side with a debilitated squeal. The bulbous bulge of its stomach lifted and descended with a few more laboured breaths until it fell still in this derelict grave. At least Raymond had believed it was derelict until his eyes left the unfortunate pig and caught the sight of numerous other deceased hogs, each slumped in their cordoned pens, stomachs ripped asunder.

            A disturbing possibility entered his mind, he looked back to the most recent corpse and saw its stomach was in fact still moving, not with air but squirming with some internal motion. Then it happened. Scythe like claws pierced the hide from inside and tore downwards, a sinewy arm stretching out of the jagged incision. Gelert’s confusion turned to furious barks as Raymond held the pitchfork tight.

            Maeve, hearing the commotion, pulled on the horse’s reigns to turn it towards the farm gates. Her father came tumbling backwards out of the barn doors with some hideous, bloody beast atop him. It savagely clawed and scratched at him, trying to reach past the haft of his fork but failed to make contact before Gelert launched forwards and clasped his jaws around the base of the creature’s neck. The two beasts rolled into a ball of fury before they broke apart across a fence post. Seemingly newborn and weak, the creature was set upon once more before it could recover, and Gelert soon rung its lifeless corpse side to side.

            Maeve went to usher her horse onwards yet another one of these monsters landed in front of her. This one was larger, almost the size of a calf, feline in stature yet its features were crooked, elongated to unnatural lengths. Its body shimmered with scales and its spine ran with a ruffled orange mane to the tip of its whip thin tail. Six eyes gazed up at her from its mangy head, tendril like whiskers draping either side of the gnarly display of fangs it bore as it hissed with its ghoulishly forked tongue. The horse reeled backwards, kicking up dirt on the spot. The creature went to pounce but was thrust back down, the three prongs of that pitchfork skewering it to the ground.

            “Get out of here! Go!” Raymond yanked the fork from the limp fiend and slapped the back of the horse.

            “Ray! Where are you!” Zoe yelled out yet Maeve had little influence on her horse’s behaviour. It didn’t hesitate to rush forwards down the path, trampling another one of these beasts in its stride.

            “I’ll be right behind you!” He called to her as he pressed on down the road, yet two more of the scaly cats dropped down from the trees above. He looked back to the farm and realised there were at least a dozen more of these creatures lurking on the rooftops, “Shit!”

            Jabbing at the beasts was difficult, their movements were deceiving, shifting with the speed of a cat and the flexibility of a snake. He realised there was no chance of slaying all of them with this rusty old tool. He took one last look at his wife and daughter, now a blur a ways down the road, and doubled back. Herding Gelert on the way he dived into the old house thinking its cobbled walls might offer some sanctuary. It quickly became apparent that he was not the first to seek shelter here. Windows had already been boarded, though the door was in pieces and stained with blood, clearly the barricades had only proved so effective.

            He pushed the nearest piece of furniture he could find, a bulky cupboard, up against that open doorway just in time as the ravenous creatures slammed into its back. They clawed and tore at it, but a few more tables and chairs appeared to shore it up to a degree. It gave him time to notice the slender shape emerging from the blackened fireplace before it pounced at him.

Pitchfork in hand he kept the claws at bay once more, yet it soon had its fangs around the haft. With a guttural growl it chomped down and snapped it in two. With nothing but splinters between him and its salivating maw Raymond was powerless as those razor-sharp claws dug into his arms, until something pained the cat from behind that was. Gelert clamped his teeth around its tail and tugged as he might, the beast was far larger this time, yet he had its attention. Its grip eased from its prey, it only needed to loosen for a second, enough time for Raymond to free his arms and plunge both ends of the broken pole into either side of its head. With a gargled grumble the grizzly creature slumped on top of him, dead.

            With some help from the dog, he threw the hefty beast aside and spared no time in fishing a lighter from his pocket. A few frustrated clicks later he finally had a flame and set to burning what he could in that fireplace to fend off any other would-be intruders. Then he slumped up against his hobbled together barricade, partly to brace it, partly from exhaustion, and kept his eyes wearily on the fire. Gelert came to him and sat by his side, a dog his children found adorable even in his old age, now drenched in smatterings of gore. It was a grim adornment for the faithful hound, yet his eyes remained as innocent as ever, dotingly gazing into Raymond’s as if to say what do I need to do next.

            He rubbed Gelert’s head and began to scratch behind his ears, his favourite spot. “Good boy.”

            Tenacious scratches and furious growls still haunted them from outside, but for now Raymond found peace in knowing the others had made it. And so, they waited for whatever may come.

*

Elsewhere, deep in the tangle of secretive woods, the Eagle swooped low into the hollow of Llyn Llyw. She touched down lightly with a deft grace and greeted her friends, the Owl, the Stag and the Ousel, who still waited with the Salmon. They had resolved to return to their lives, to their age-old homes and go about their time-tested routines. Yet an unerring sense of compunction had held them back, they had all waited with bated breaths to hear what news of Cantre’r Gwaelod the Eagle bore. Her words were met with dismay, each was aghast at what had befallen the Elderkin children and the family they had so desperately sought out.

            “This is grave news indeed.” The Salmon lamented, his cumbersome bulk sinking back into what meagre waters he had left. “I would question what man would treat strangers in such a deplorable way, yet I fear it only confirms our concerns, he is truly desperate.”

            “I have had enough, for too long we have stood idly by, guiding others to wisdom we neglect to heed.” The Eagle spoke without her usual elegance, “I say we should fight, rid this world of this problem instead of employing others to do it in our stead!”

            “And what would you have us do? Hmm? Be food for the Afanc? Battle the unparalleled sorcery of a Child of Dôn with tooth and claw?” The Owl spoke out of a fear they all knew too well. Over the years, when one has lived so long, the prospect of death becomes taboo, an inevitability one does everything to avoid.

            “No, no.” She grew frustrated, powerless yet yearning to help all the same. “I would not have children fight the battles we are too weak to fight either. Wise Salmon, there must be some way we can help them. We are feeble in the face of such odds but there must be one with your strength who roams free, you must know of such a beast.”

            The Salmon slowly blinked, deep in thought, and then warbled his baritone answer, “There is one.”

            “Is he strong Salmon?” The Ousel asked.

            “Immeasurably.”

            “Does he run free Salmon?” The Stag inquired.

            “He has run free of countless cages; no man can shackle him.”

            “And would you consider him wise, Salmon?” The Owl asked his most pertinent question.

            “Not as I would consider you or I wise, old Owl. His life has not afforded him times of reflection or conversation, he has lived only a life of survival, of endurance. He is wise in the ways of war, for he has fought for his life against the will of men in ways no other has.”

            “He still lives...” The Eagle gasped.

            “He does. That most stubborn of beasts, that enchanted boar wilder than any other. Twrch Trwyth has battled with Arthur’s armies to a stalemate in the past. If there is a beast who could stand against men who defy death, fiends who devour man and animal alike, gods who weave old magic with evil intent, it is Twrch Trwyth.” The Salmon spoke of the mythical boar with ominous trepidation as he went on, “This boar has known great tragedy, he has been hunted across continents, and is now haunted forever more without promise of respite. I cannot guarantee that he would even deign to take up our cause.”

            “If those children from another world have taught us anything, it is that we must try to carve our own path, no matter how dark the night.” The Eagle was decided, and her companions seemed to agree. “Where do we find this boar?”