Chapter 5 - Prisoners in the dark

by james attwood

They wandered through that tunnel for what felt like an age. Blodeuwedd reassured them her journey through the tree had been impossibly long as well, though doing so on foot this time seemed to elongate the experience. Despite this the others felt sceptical. They’d opened a doorway they didn’t understand and were now trudging down what could have been an endless dead end. A potential trap laid by the trickster Gwydion, after all they’d managed to recall his slippery nature in the stories between them, and Blodeuwedd was walking evidence of his capabilities. She took no interest in discussing her creator though, leaving her assessment of him as just ‘a cruel hero’.

            “You already have your stories...” She refused to elaborate on the subject.

            They chose not to broach the matter any further. The so-called hero of myth Gwydion had come into disrepute, it was clear they’d have to confront the man himself to learn his true intentions. The talk stopped when Aria realised the cold damp confines of the oak were replaced by a different surface, still wet but now rough and chiselled. As soon as she could raise the feeling with the others the mist began to fade, evaporating into the confines of a dark dank cave. The glow of the runes behind faded as they noticed the bark close behind them, the trunk growing seamlessly through the edge of a cavern wall. Torches flicked on one by one as they observed the place the tree had taken them. Not everything they saw was natural. Rows of smaller rocks formed supporting walls in a circle, the small dome they stood in appearing more and more constructed. The wall had been torn down and broken where they stood to reveal the tree behind it, perhaps by the oak itself. Ominous trinkets had been stuffed into the nooks between these crude walls. Straw figures, animal bones, and wilted herbs had been placed everywhere like the vigilant decorations of a long-gone witch.

            “This isn’t right, this isn’t where I came from.” Blodeuwedd murmured, worried unseen ears in the dark would hear her.

            Zoe scanned the breadth of the cavern right to left with her light looking for an exit. There was none. Panning back left to right, she jumped out of her skin as a figure now sat where she had shone the torch not seconds ago. The audible gasp drew everyone’s attention as each beam of light focused on the source of her scare. It was a man, at least it once had been. Faded maroon rags draped over him, the ends frayed so badly the lengths at his feet appeared like unattended cobwebs. His face was mostly obscured by an abundance of stark white hair that had grown around his head. Spare for the bald patch atop his crown the rest of him was lost in the scrags of his unruly beard and the locks of his wispy hair. The only definable feature that stood out were his pale eyes, their whited surface reflecting the torches without response. He was like a ghost, a man who had long passed but remained upright by chance.

            “He...Hello?” Zoe stuttered, terrified of the first thing she’d seen on the other side of this tree. She couldn’t imagine how the children were coping. She edged closer; hands outstretched in a motion of peace.

            “Zoe, careful.” Raymond whispered.

            She got so close without any response to her repeated greetings that her fingers were inches from his wrinkled forehead. The man was so dusty and motionless she expected his head to roll from his shoulders when she touched it but was met with another fright as he twitched to life. With a weary wheeze his head crooked to one side, his blank eyes staring directly into the light without a blink.

            “Oh my god he’s alive!” She shrieked as she backed up into Raymond, everyone's torches forming an impromptu light show on the cave walls as they all recoiled. A moment passed, everyone too afraid to speak, before the man muttered towards whoever had disturbed him.

            “Who goes there?” He groaned, his crackly voice a meagre echo.

            “Z-Z-Zoe...” She answered, waving a hand to test his sight. A blank stare still looked past her.

            “Ah but you do not walk alone.” The eyes veered, searching the room in knowledge of the others.

            “...We’re family.”

            “Ah, Zoe.” He said the name as if it were foreign to him, placing emphasis on every letter. “A stranger with strangers in tow. Then again I have not had company for a long time, and I fear I would not remember even my closest friends. Strangers will do.”

            Another brief pause followed his musings, nobody was quite sure what to make of him. “We’re looking for our children.” Raymond caught his tongue before he asked his question, “Have you...uh...heard anyone come through this way?”

            “Another apparition, what is this one’s name?” He shuffled on the spot, sat on a rocky mound in the cave’s centre. “I never forget a name.”

            Raymond gave his name, discontent that his question was ignored and unsure of what he meant by apparition. “What’s yours?”

            “Ray, like the sun’s kiss.” He spoke this word with more familiarity but seemed lost in thought afterwards, “My name? I must have a name...”

            “You can’t remember your own name?” Lewis pitied the old man, alone and seemingly driven mad down here.

            “Lost to the dark. So much lost to the dark.” There was a sadness in him, eyes sunk into his head as if they’d receded from the horrors he’d seen.

            “Listen we’re not hallucinations, we’re real. Perhaps we can help you. How did you get here?” Lewis craned his head to survey the cavern roof, “Do you know of a way out?”

            “Spirit, you are kind but do not deceive me. No man may come or go.”

            “We just did, through the oak.” Zoe explained, moving in unafraid now of the frail figure.

            The old man looked concerned and began tapping at the ground to feel for the outstretched roots of the oak. He gasped and staggered to his feet, supporting himself with a twisted knot of a cane. Hobbling forwards with surprising alacrity, the group had to part for him as he strode straight through their midst towards the exposed face of the oak. He ran his skeletal fingers along its surface, reading the textures of the bark like Braille. He turned back to them, mouth agape with insight.

            “This is indeed an oak.” He smiled a toothless grin, content with his deduction, and made his way back to his original perch.

            “No, no. Not just any oak, it’s a portal!” Zoe tried to emphasise the tree’s ability to him, but it fell on deaf ears.

            “Marvellous.” He exclaimed, clueless to what she was harping on about. “I often found myself lost in trees as well, I wish I could remember what they looked like.”

            Zoe looked to the others, a little lost as to how they should continue. The man was clearly a few screws short, and even when he heard their questions his answers were nonsensical. Idris was studying a tiny bird’s skull he’d picked off the floor, it was embellished with carvings and stuffed with bundles of moss, he wondered what this eerie place was.

            “You said nobody could come or go? How did you end up here old man?” Idris couldn’t shake the feeling that they were intruding, breaking some old tradition they were clueless of.

            “Prophecy brought me here and fate keeps me.” The old man declared with clarity; it was clear he remembered the meaning behind these words at least.

            “You mean you can’t leave...that this cave is your prison?” Idris continued; he’d heard Blodeuwedd’s concerns when they’d arrived but was keen to understand this old man’s plight. After all it might be connected to Gwydion, to the children. “How long have you been here exactly?”

            “Years, aeons...time has become irrelevant under this rock.”

            “And how do you stay alive in a place like this for all these years?” Aria felt she was taking the bait, she wanted to understand as much as anyone else but there was no way this man’s story was true.

            “I must have my ways...” the old man sat back, frowning as he tried to think of an answer, “Why I’ve not been without company, a good man once visited in spirit if not body, I wish I could remember his name. And now you come to stimulate my old mind with conversation...” A finger was raised but froze as he forgot what he was about to say. “And... hmm...why there’s the stone, he’s quenched my thirst over the years...”

            “The stone’s quenched your thirst?” Aria didn’t know where to begin.

            “Why yes, he wanders down to the sea when I am at my most parched and drinks his fill for me.”

            “Of course he does.” Aria gave the floor to the others; she was still getting to grips with this magical stuff.

            Whilst the dance of questions and answers that begot more questions continued, Blodeuwedd placed a hand on Idris’s arm. She spoke softly but severely, perhaps she thought Idris would be the only one to listen to her. She reiterated that this was not where she came from, that it wasn’t the same oak. The circumstances had everyone feeling uneasy, but she was particularly disturbed, adamant that the cave they’d found themselves in was not intended for visitors. Idris couldn’t help but agree and, noticing that Zoe was listening in, tried to steer the conversation in a more fruitful direction.

            “Listen I don’t think we should hang around here, we’ve been steered wrong somewhere.” He walked up to the old man and knelt to his level. “If we told you we could get you out of here, would you come with us?”

            “I am afraid not. This cave is not but a cave, this prison not but a prison. My life is bound to this place, my story’s end written on these walls.” The old man was placid, seemingly content with his cell, not once bemoaning his fate. “After all this place is as much my home now as anywhere.”

            Idris stood up and shrugged to the others as if to say ‘you try’. Zoe grew frustrated, “It can’t just be a dead end. They’re out there somewhere!” She looked at a speechless Blodeuwedd for answers, “What did you do differently? Is it because it was a different tree?”

            “A different tree?” The man lingered on the phrase behind Zoe, “Why, aren’t all trees connected?”

            “Connected?”

            “They speak to one another, share each other’s experiences. And what living things have experienced more than the trees?” He spoke again with a tinge of wonder, as if lecturing on an old forgotten curiosity of his.

            “Trees can communicate with one another, you’re right...” Zoe was familiar with the science but wasn’t sure that was this fellow’s source of inspiration.

            “Therefore, what is stopping a tree from speaking to a man, or a man to a tree in kind?” He waved his spindly arms in as grander gestures as he could, practically brimming with life compared to when they’d found him. “Ahem, forgive the ramblings of an old man. You spirits must know these things already.”

            “Does he want genuine answers or?” Aria raised an eyebrow; whatever he was on about she wasn’t quite following.

            “I think he means...” Zoe carried on before turning to him directly, “Do you mean we have to share our experiences with the tree?”

            He stared blankly before looking directly into her eyes, what whited hints of irises that remained staring right into her soul. “You’re a wise girl, Zoe.” She felt the cold touch of his fingers grasping for her hand, “I’m sure the oak tried its best for you, but what navigator can navigate without a destination in mind?” She held his hand for a moment, feeling she had glimpsed the true man hidden within this decrepit shell for but a moment. Soon the eyes glazed over again, and once more he began to mumble the musings of a madman. “I wonder if my rock can talk to trees?”

            Zoe released his hand slowly, resting it on his knee, not that he noticed. She felt sorry for him, alone in this pit, his fragile grip on reality slipping. Even when in the company of others, he hadn’t the slightest clue, convinced they were more of his delusions lurking in the dark. She felt guilty that she was glad she never had to see her parents grow so old like this.

            “I think we have to know where we’re going...” She spoke with some confidence now. Perhaps the old man had been spouting untruths, but she had faith in his last bit of wisdom at least. “We have to try the doorway again, but this time everybody try to keep your minds blank. Except you Blodeuwedd, I want you to think as hard as you can of the place you came from.”

            She’d been leading the charge since the moment they’d had any semblance of a direction, and she realised that their destination was becoming ever more elusive in this mystical land they couldn’t begin to understand. The others knew the clues were tenuous at best but weren’t going to doubt her initiative, after all, prodding around in the dark is all any of them could do. Once more they went into the oak, leaving the mysterious old man to his lonely grotto. Zoe gave him one last look, those eyes piercing the darkness as the tree closed around her.

            “Let us hope the trees listen well, after all their great battle is coming...” He murmured to the nothingness.

*

Their return journey was made in silence, each one of them trying their best to keep their minds blank, not that anyone had any great success. Blodeuwedd took the lead this time, focusing intently on picturing the weathered mountain top she’d travelled from. It wasn’t long before they emerged from the other side. Immediately the crisp air and rolling gusts hit them, a far cry from the squalid confines of the cave behind. Wherever they had arrived it was dusk, and they were high up. So high that a select few clouds passed below them, gloomy in the valley’s shadow compared to those that glowed above in the last sunlight. Blodeuwedd at least was happy to see the stark mountain range they looked out on.

            “Where did you take us?” Zoe asked, taking in the oddly familiar landscape. “Did it work?”

            “I imagined the very peak of Gwyddfa Rhita and it took us there!” She was almost embarrassed at her success. She turned and pointed to the twisting tree behind them, “This is it, the oak Efnysien used.”

            “Good work.” Idris said what Zoe couldn’t, not yet at least, not until she had her children back in her arms. Blodeuwedd felt she’d proven herself to them this time at the very least, and they were certainly pleased to be in the same realm as their quarry.

            “Did you say Gwyddfa?” Aria went back to what Blodeuwedd had said.

            “Rhita’s cairn, yes.”

            “No, no...” Aria wasn’t looking for translations, she was more curious about the overwhelming sense of déjà vu she was experiencing. She jogged to the outcrop’s edge and peered across the twilight expanse. “Gwyddfa as in Wyddfa. Yr Wyddfa. I thought this place looked familiar. We’re on top of Snowdon.”

            “Listen we’ve all been up Yr Wyddfa, this isn’t…” Idris dismissed the notion at first but wavered when he looked over the horizon with her.

            “See down there, that has to be Llyn Llydaw right? And that ridge there could be Crib Goch...” Aria pointed to the lake of folklore below then began noting the presence of numerous peaks she’d so often climbed back home. The lake’s surface shone an impossible blue even in the dim light of the evening and those peaks reached far higher than she ever remembered. Compared to the Eryri region she knew this felt like an extreme mirror image, she felt dwarfed here. “Granted it’s different, but it’s the same.”

            “I’ll be damned...” Idris and the others slowly came to the same realisation. The panorama before them was a well-known one, but wholly unknown at the same time. The summit that loomed over the range was eerily high, the perspective it gave them must have been twice as high as the one they had from their mountain, if not more. Idris thought of the tale behind the mountain he knew, “Reckon there’s actually a giant buried under this one?”

            “Supposedly.” Blodeuwedd mused, arousing a look of intrigue from Idris.

            Even though they had some familiarity with the lay of the land they still had no idea where the children could be, and there was a distinct lack of civilisation compared to back home. Blodeuwedd offered somewhere to start, an abandoned mining lodge a ways down the mountain. She’d met there with Gwydion before their ascent earlier this day, a convenient shelter from prying eyes.

            Unbeknownst to them they embarked on the same descent their children had made. It wasn’t easy. The snow was thick now, concealing the treacherous ground below. The torch light lit it up well but could do little to reveal the cracks below, making their progress slow at best. It didn’t help that the paths they had to follow weren’t the same, that what little man had carved out of this mountain was different in design to the walks they knew. Furthermore, these trails had fallen into disuse, only obscure traces of their presence remained in what the mountain had claimed back as its own.

            Gelert bounded ahead sporadically, waiting for the others to catch up before carrying on. He seemed to catch wind of something occasionally, but they were unsure if it was their children’s scent or simply the allure of this new realm. After all he could be smelling all kinds of oddities if half the stories about this place were to be believed. Zoe looked at Idris and Lewis keeping up pace ahead of her, checking the trek for hazards. She thought of Fred, how he’d go clambering together with his uncles. Lewis looked sullen, woefully alone without his wife and sons in tow. Even Idris with the shotgun slung over his back seemed innocent and as out of his depth as the rest of them were. She couldn’t help but see them both as her little brothers, she felt a need to say something.

            “Idris, I... just wanted to say thanks.” She confided.

            “You’re welcome…for what?” He half smiled, confused but happy she was talking to him.

            “If you hadn’t of caught her we never would’ve made it here.” She’d meant to thank him before but between the grieving and anger she harboured afterwards she’d never found the time.

            “We’re family, you don’t need to thank me.” Idris played it down, but the gratitude of his sister meant an awful lot to him. He chuckled, “Just give me a heads up before any morning cardio next time please, I’ve still got a stitch.”

            Zoe smiled. For a fleeting moment she felt happiness in the nostalgia of this arrangement, her family together again on a long trek. The reason behind it soon wiped any positivity she was reminded of though, leaving a dour look on her face.

            “Don’t worry sis, we’re going to find them.” Lewis reassured her, endeavouring to highlight the hope the present company provided him, “Together.”

            It wasn’t long before the talking was hushed. Below them they could make out the lodge, stood alone and surrounded by debris like an ill-fated attempt of taming the slopes of Gwyddfa Rhita. Cascading down to it was a gravelly half crater hewn by men, beyond it a cliff edge that nature’s force crumbled away at. Even the once robust trail presumably flattened for horse and cart was now barely fit for even experienced mountaineers. Away from prying eyes indeed, it was a wonder anyone would wish to visit this place. The plume of smoke emanating from the lodge’s chimney spoke otherwise however. This could be it. They carefully edged down.

            Once they were at the bottom the scene became far grimmer. The mess they had seen from above was more deliberate than they realised. The structure was surrounded by wooden spikes, at least a dozen had been thrust into the ground between them and the building. Run through on each of these pikes were the strangest of creatures, the furry bwbachs, not that any of them recognised such a creature. Even if they had known exactly what they were it would be hard to identify these tortured beasts. Each one had been butchered with precision, mutilated in hideous ways. Lips had been cut to their teeth, ears down to their heads, and tails to their backs. Though dead their eyes were still open, aghast in the pain they had suffered, some unable to close for their lack of eyelids. They could only hope that these poor souls had passed long before such fates had befallen them.

            This circle of slaughter stood as a warning to any who might approach, a scene that made each of their stomachs turn. Perhaps these were once ferocious animals yet there could be no justification for such barbarity they thought. Gelert began to grumble a low humming growl as Lewis gripped his collar to stop him from running off. The reason behind the dog’s discomfort was made evident when a muffled shriek echoed from within the walls of the cabin. Zoe was relieved, it was a grown man’s voice, though someone was in pain all the same. Another yell of distress rang out. Every inch of their being was telling them not to enter that lodge, but they had no choice.

            Idris reached the gun from his bag and held it ready, looking to the others for some plan of approach. Lewis gave Gellert’s collar to Blodeuwedd.

            “Wait here with him. Anything goes down, let him go. Otherwise hold on tight.” Lewis was forthright. Blodeuwedd said she could help but he bluntly replied, “No need.”

            He had a gut feeling he and Gelert knew exactly who was inside that lodge, and he fully intended to get the jump on them. He barely had to motion for Idris to come along as his brother fell in line behind him. Together they skulked towards the cabin under the cover of darkness, leaving Blodeuwedd alone to keep the complacent Gelert at bay. Up against its wall, Lewis braced himself to peer in with bated breath.

            “I know you’re out there…” Efnysien’s announcement rang out with malicious intent, like a predator fully aware of his prey, “...your filthy dog can’t keep quiet can he.”

            Lewis grimaced to the others and walked in alone. The scene inside was a dire spectacle. The fireplace was roaring, cuts of wood and coal spilling forth from the wild flames. Sat before it were two strangers to Lewis, Efnysien and Taliesin. Taliesin, bloodied and tied to a chair, Efnysien crouched before him, an iron poker in his hand. Taliesin’s eyes glimmered desperately on Lewis’s arrival, his head hung limply, his entire body weak from the pain. The whole room was a mess, chairs were upturned, and broken window shutters flapped in the wind. A trail of fresh blood dried on the floorboards all the way to the cellar’s open trapdoor across the room. Efnysien was practically bathed in it.

            “I came alone...besides the dog.” Lewis announced himself as he stepped in, unnerved that this torturer hadn’t turned to look at him in the slightest.

            “Another lie.” Efnysien’s thick accent rang with his every word, relaxed but grave. “Your lot are fond of lying. The rest of you come out the shadows, I’ve no time for cowards.”

            Lewis held out his hand to the others, motioning for them to wait. “Why complicate things? You’re Efnysien right? I’ve been looking for you...for my son.”

            “How astute!” He stood now and looked to Lewis. Staring daggers at him, he pressed the iron against Taliesin’s shoulder. He groaned in agony. Efnysien spoke again, as usual without a single flinch of his lips, or any facial expression for that matter, “Out now or I burn your man here next!”

            The others couldn’t stand by any longer. They all flooded into the room to stand at their brother’s side, Idris training the shotgun on Efnysien.

            “Just try it!” He threatened, hands shaking with adrenaline.

            Efnysien began to laugh, an eerie sight as his mouth was agape yet the raucous laughter seemed to come from anywhere but. “So, this is the girls avenging force, the family she so threatened to call upon! I expected warriors, not this pitiful brigade.”

            “You killed those things outside didn’t you, stuck them up like that.” Aria accused him, matching the crime with the criminal. Such a man wouldn’t think twice about striking her father down. All she could think to ask was, “Why?”

            His outburst quietened as he began to ponder the point. He eventually looked squarely at her, face blank without remorse, “Why not?”

            “You took them...you killed...” Zoe began to waver now that she was faced with the man she’d been picturing all day. That fiery beard, the scorched skin smeared with other’s blood, those cruel eyes that burned with ill intent. She never could have imagined such a monster. She perished to think if her children had shared the same fate as the animals outside. “Where are they!?”

            “The runts are long gone.” He edged forwards, pointing the iron towards Zoe, “They’re the least of your worries now though.”

            A deafening shot blew a hole in the stone mantel piece beside Efnysien. “Move a muscle and I swear to God it’ll be you next.” Idris’s heart was racing, his hands sweating despite the cold of the outdoors permeating the room. His father’s killer was stood mere feet from them, an oak table the only obstacle between them and his sword.

            “More sorcery?” Efnysien thought out loud, looking at the hole unimpressed, “It couldn’t save the old man, it won’t save you.”

            “Give it up man!” Raymond tried to shout him down, he could see the lack of fear in Efnysien’s eyes and was afraid he’d try anything, “You’re outnumbered five to one.”

            “You’ll need more than that!”

            Like a wolf springing for a deer Efnysien leapt forwards, vaulting the table with alarming speed. Before he could clear it however another blast boomed throughout the cabin, and he crashed onto the table. Dusty mugs and rusted cutlery clattered as he landed limp, a bloody barrage of shrapnel embedded in his cratered chest. Ears echoed with the ringing of gunfire.

            “Oh fuck! I think I killed him.” Idris shouted in shock, hands trembling.

            Nobody could bring themselves to speak, they simply encircled the table slowly to make sure he was dead. Idris kept the gun in hand, aiming it closely at the body as he looked for signs of life. He was horrified at the wound he’d inflicted but could have sworn he saw the grotesque flesh shifting in some way. Zoe stood back, more concerned with the other man, she doubted he was Gwydion but perhaps he knew something. Regardless he was in urgent need of help, looking beaten half to death. She couldn’t help but notice his laboured movements, his head was quivering. No, shaking.

Before she could warn anyone Idris saw Efnysien’s eyes staring right at him, alive. He pulled the trigger to no avail, instead of a thundering boom there was a hopeless empty click. Idiot. Efnysien seized the barrel of the gun and shunted the butt right back into Idris’s nose, sending him stumbling over backwards.

            A flurry of a brawl took place over the next few seconds as they all lunged at the revived Efnysien. Lewis was on him first but was met with that same wooden stock, swung like a club. He brought it wide for another blow but was held back by Aria. She bore witness to that mass of exposed flesh on his chest closing up as his innards began to glow like an overheated furnace. For that instant his body became searing to the touch, forcing Aria to release her grapple as her hands were burnt. Her screams were cut short as he slammed her head into the table they fought around, knocking her unconscious with a violent blow. Zoe saw an opportunity but struggled to tug the gun from his grasp, those murderous eyes fixing back on her. He couldn’t retaliate though, as Raymond grabbed his wolf skin shawl, pulling him over the table by the neck. The shotgun flung into the air as Raymond plunged a knife from the kitchen table deep into his gut.

            “What the hell are you!?” He growled through gritted teeth. He tried to hold this madman down but felt the very metal of the knife’s handle growing unbearably hot in his grip. He had to release it as Efnysien stood defiantly back to his feet.

            “Stubborn.” He retorted. With a powerful kick he sent Raymond flying down into the cellar below, an unholy crash of wood echoing with his fall.

            Efnysien, pleased he’d evened the playing field but still lusting for blood, turned to Zoe once more. Her and Idris were emptying the contents of a bag onto the floor, scrambling for the box of shells he had in there somewhere. He slowly walked towards them, one hand fondling the pommel of his sheathed sword in anticipation. Idris stood up; nose bloodied but fists clenched. Before he could warn him away Lewis came rushing from behind, tackling Efnysien around the waist. With a momentous war cry he lifted him into the air and carried on running through the open doorway. There was little Efnysien could do, arms bound in Lewis’s bear hug. He found himself enjoying such unrestrained defiance, perhaps there were warriors amongst you. Twenty paces out of the door Lewis threw him with all his might onto one of the jutting spikes, impaling him.

            “Don’t you get it?” Efnysien spoke for the first time with any real emotion besides animosity, almost relishing the experience. He gripped the spear firmly and pulled himself slowly off it, the searing hole leaving the tip of the spear aflame. Arms wide open as if he were a showman performing his latest stunt he declared, “You can’t kill me!”

            “You think I care!” Lewis yelled into the cold night sky as he swung wildly forwards.

            Lewis was a formidable man, towering well over Efnysien in particular. However, despite his smaller frame this unkillable man was a raw concentration of muscle and reflex. Each haymaker Lewis threw his way fell on an empty space, Efnysien already to his side delivering a painful jab to his ribs. This agonizing dance went on, Efnysien’s tracks in the snow forming a flower of blows around Lewis. He was toying with him, making the most of the bout before its grizzly end. Lewis felt himself waning, bracing for another strike but they ceased. He turned to see Idris levelling punch after punch at Efnysien, able to keep pace with this unpredictable foe. Together they attacked him from both sides. It proved an overwhelming combination as the two brothers gave their father’s killer no quarter. Each fist he blocked merely opened the way for another. The damage of each blow faded as soon as the next landed, yet he soon found his brow running bloody, his eyes clouded in humiliating defeat. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt for centuries, a sensation he despised.

            Recoiling from the last blow he drew his sword, slashing it blindly across whoever had struck him last. Blood streaked a line in the white snow as Lewis fell backwards, a gash cleaved right across his shoulder. The blade had only glanced him but cut deeply through the layers of clothing and flesh like butter. Efnysien wiped his forearm across his eyes, squinting to see who he’d felled. A sinister grin on his face he turned his attention to Idris who stared in a daze at the wounded Lewis. The whistling of the first strike snapped him out of it too late, its tip nicking an inch across his cheek. The following swings of the blackened sword came quick and fierce. Idris ducked the first, then sidestepped the second but tripped over backwards to avoid the third. Prone on his back he closed his eyes, hopeless against the coming deathblow.

            He was saved, however, as a black and white streak set upon his executioner. Gelert had instinctively sunk his teeth into this foe before, but now he endeavoured to finish the job. Despite his passion his prey had been bitten before. Efnysien threw Gelert’s head under his arm, fighting through tooth and claw to hold the vengeful beast still.

            “Not this time!” He held his sword high with one hand, Gelert wriggling to get free of the other.

            BOOM!

A deep blast shook the mountainside. It seemed to echo for miles through the quiet of the night. Efnysien went to bring his sword arm down but noticed there was no sword to bring down. No arm even. A dismembered stump remained where the upper half of his forearm used to be. He looked forwards, baffled by what had just occurred. There stood Zoe, hurriedly cramming two more shells into the shotgun, the steel contraption he’d dismissed earlier.

            “Leave...them...” She timidly muttered under her breath as she focused on loading the gun.

            “I told you, you can’t-”

BOOM!

Before he could argue more futilities Zoe pulled both triggers again, discharging both barrels slightly lower than she had before.

            He was blown backwards like a sack of potatoes, rolling over in the snow. Gelert was free from what was now a mess of blood and ice on the edge of the precipice. A second passed, he was lifeless, yet Zoe fished two more shells from her pocket. He then began to crawl along the floor, his one intact hand blindly fishing through the snow until it found his sword. Yet again he stood to his feet, a disturbing visage of an undying man. The top half of his head was missing, a molten substance seemed to boil over in its place like a skull turned cauldron. Even now he still spoke.

            “You... ca... can’t-” He gargled.

            “Leave. Them. ALONE!” Zoe screamed; adamant she’d see this man driven from her family.

            BOOM!

She fired a third and final shot directly into his chest. He staggered backwards, ungainly, flailing to hold his footing, though it proved impossible. One foot fell on the nothingness beyond the cliff edge and the rest of him followed, tumbling into the darkness below. Idris rushed to look over the edge, the ravine below instilling a sense of vertigo in him before he could even hope to see Efnysien’s body. Zoe didn’t pursue him, dropping the gun where she stood and rushing to Lewis’s side. She was panic-stricken, afraid she’d be holding another dying victim of Efnysien’s in her arms. He was still conscious, thank goodness.

            “Oh my god. Are you okay? How bad is it?” Zoe began shooting questions in a frenzy, trying to get a look at the shoulder her brother was holding in agony.

            “I don’t know, hurts like a bitch though.” Lewis strained to talk. He saw Idris hurdling back through the snow and felt the sniffing of Gelert’s nose on the crown of his head. “Is he dead?”

            “Who knows...but he isn’t coming back from that anytime soon.” Idris was still reeling but couldn’t be happier to see his brother talking. “Jesus man, I thought you were dead back there.”

            “Takes more than that to-” Lewis groaned in pain, the cut was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. Blodeuwedd now stood over them, mortified to have been an onlooker to such a battle. All she could muster were plea’s that she had let the dog go as she had been told.

            Together they dragged him back into the cabin, clearing the table to make space for an impromptu bed. The scene’s similarity to the kitchen back in Arfryn was hauntingly evident. The others were just recovering, Aria nursing her bruised forehead with scolded hands and Raymond clambering up from the cellar using what was left of the stairs. Seeing Lewis’s state, they both forgot their injuries and sought to help. Aria’s knowledge of first aid had barely prepared her for weapon attacks but she did what fundamentals she could think of. Stopping the bleeding proved difficult though, the wound gushing uncontrollably no matter how many cloths she applied. Anxieties set in amongst the group. It looks bad, Aria thought. Still bound, Taliesin stared on, blinking in and out of consciousness.

            “Cer...Ceri...” He murmured, closing his eyes, drifting in and out of sleep from exhaustion.

            Made aware of his presence once more amongst all the turmoil they turned to him.

            “What did you say?” Raymond got close.

            “Cerid...Ceridwen.” He barely managed to get the words out before his head flopped forwards, unconscious or worse.

            “What?” Raymond tried to wake him to no avail, “What is it?”

            “Ceridwen...” Blodeuwedd uttered behind them, recognising Taliesin’s words. It was a name. A name that instilled some hope in her voice, “She can help us.”