Chapter 6 - Muddied Waters

BY JAMES ATTWOOD

It was dark down here, cold and dark. Maeve had seen the explosion of bubbles one of the others had created next to her but had now lost them, unable to make them out in these mired waters. One arm after the other she strived to make her way to the surface, the depths to which she’d plunged feeling impossibly deep. But then a glimmer of light pierced the veil, as if a lighthouse beamed ahead. It was still too distant however, and Maeve couldn’t hold her breath any longer. With a gasp a slew of bubbles flew from her mouth, little beads of her life escaping. Controlled strokes became panicked thrashes, and no matter how hard she tried she was treading water, unmoving. That light grew ever further away, mocking her, stuck in the dark.

            She’d practically given up when she felt a distinct tug on her hood. Someone had a hold of her, dragging her upwards towards the light she couldn’t reach alone. The murkiness cleared the higher they reached; she recognised the colourful leggings kicking wildly beside her as Hope’s. With a relieving splash they emerged together above the water, heads bobbing in what appeared to be yet another enormous cavern. This one was distinctly lit up however, that light a greenish neon glow emanating from a crack in the wall ahead. They waded to the cavern’s edge, crawling onto the small, pebbled shore. Neither of them could stand, both lying on their fronts exhausted. Another slosh of water sounded behind them as Fred surfaced as well, trudging his way up to them. They laid there to catch their breath, barely able to speak, shivering uncontrollably. Fred slowly came to the realisation someone was missing.

            “Wh-wh-where’s Or-Or-son?” His teeth chattered madly as he looked around, slowly realising he had no idea how strong a swimmer Orson was.

            Maeve and Hope foolishly looked to their sides, as if expecting him to be lying next to them as tired as they were, that’s why he was so quiet surely. But there was no Orson in sight. The ripples of their presence were now gone from the face of that subterranean lake, the stillness of its surface a troubling sign of the lack of life below. Hope didn’t hesitate, she stood to her feet and dove in once more. Maeve and Fred shouted after her, but that stillness settled once more, the depths claiming her presence with worrying ease. What felt like minutes passed, each of them waded up to their waist yet could see nothing. Maeve stopped Fred from following and contemplated doing so herself instead, but the very thought of submerging herself down there terrified her. You’re meant to be the older sister, she chastised herself. Wariness of any water was one of her many irrational fears, phobias she’d developed as she herself had closed up. She never would have taken the plunge in the first place had it not been for her pursuers closing in.

            The quiet was broken with a wave of water as Hope surfaced a second time, a pale Orson clutched in her arms. Inhaling and exhaling rapidly she swam into her siblings’ arms, passing Orson onto them before she collapsed on dry land. Laid on the rocks their cousin looked disturbingly at peace, his rested face a ghostly white. What had felt like tiresome lectures at the time came flashing back to Maeve, numerous survival talks she’d been bombarded with by Aria in attempts to make her more comfortable with the sea. She felt for a heartbeat first, a faint pulse from his wrist put her at ease. But then what? She racked her brain and could only think of CPR, thrusting her arms down onto his chest. Her first compressions were delicate pounces, fearful of causing any damage to him. For a boy she’d always coddled and thought of as vulnerable, she realised he was decidedly robust. She’d seen him fall over, scrape an arm, or bump his head more times than she could count but he’d always be ready to join back in whatever game they were playing. You’re not sitting this one out. She stopped being so afraid and pressed as hard she could. With it a swell of water gushed from Orson’s mouth as he coughed a loud awful cough.

            They all sighed with relief. Orson couldn’t quite shake the cough but could talk, and more importantly breathe. Maeve felt a wave of pride, she couldn’t believe she’d saved him. Orson was thrown to be waking up to his generally dour cousin smiling but he soon came back to his old self.

            “I’m sorry...” he cleared his throat again, his lungs filling with precious air, “It was deeper than I thought it was and-”

            “Don’t be sorry just-” Hope began to tell him off from her resting spot but stopped herself. She felt guilty for allowing him to come in the first place and was painfully aware she’d almost just paid for that decision with both their lives. “If you’re not sure about something just tell us Orson, we’re in this together remember.”

            “Okay...I will.” His admission was glum. He loathed this feeling of inadequacy amongst his cousins, he’d been playing catch up since they walked through that tree.

            “Are you okay?” Maeve looked down on Hope. She had always been hardy, brilliant at gymnastics, dancing, and now evidently swimming. Where Maeve would try once and give up, Hope would always endeavour on to practice. Now though, she looked defeated.

            “I’m fine.” She stared at the cavern ceiling vacantly, at a miss as to how she’d managed her feat of swimming just now but smiled. “I told you not to give up swimming lessons dummy.”

            Maeve couldn’t muster a response, just an acknowledging groan. As much as she acted the begrudging older sister she was relieved to be back amongst her family.

            “Guys, thanks for coming.” She shyly offered some gratitude, more than any of them were used to from her. Emotional openness wasn’t her strong suit. “What happened back home? Are Mum and Dad alright?”

            “We don’t know, we followed right after you. Honestly we only thought you were running away...” Fred explained they knew less than she did, that their parents were likely cut off from them. Yet again Maeve didn’t know what to say. They’d come all this way and she couldn’t offer a way back. Fred decided once more to push them on, after all they couldn’t sit in this cave forever. He looked to that strange light piercing the cracks of the cave ahead, “We should get outside so we can dry off or we’ll freeze to death.”

            “We’re going to freeze to death!?” Orson shivered as he repeated Fred’s words, startled at the bluntness with which they’d been condemned. Fred shrugged in response, never one to worry about hypotheticals.

            “Of course not!” Maeve jumped in, “We just need to warm up that’s all.”

            They all got to their feet and rung out their coats, not that it made much of a difference. Navigating further into the cave they found the passages became a squeeze even for them, let alone an adult. The source of that strange green light that now bathed their path became apparent as they crammed onwards. Bountiful plant growth carpeted the floor, crawled up the walls and hung from the ceiling. Even where the sun could penetrate this dense foliage its rays were still dyed an emerald green. Eventually they pushed their way through to another large opening, the upper limits of this new grotto a wide-open skylight to the outside world. At its centre was the pool from which these plants crept; its surface brilliantly green with algae. Into it trickled a delicate waterfall from above, its steady stream echoing throughout the chamber.

It was a reposeful sight, yet one the children could take little comfort in. Despite its beauty the light of day was struggling to reach them down here in the confines of the mountain. The only exit in sight was the open air above, though it was far from their reach. They were growing complacent, sodden, and miserable, that is until the surface of the pool began to stir.

            The green film across its top lifted into a dome, shaped like the crown of someone’s head. The shape emerged further as it glided across the surface towards the children at the water’s edge. As the figure defined itself the green coating of pond scum slipped from it like cloth, revealing a lady underneath. At first she was translucent, her body comprising of the rippling waters from which she’d walked, but soon skin and clothes formed to lend her an appearance far more human. Even so, she was ethereal, her complexion an ivory white, her hair so blonde it almost shone and her dress a weave of delicate lace. The children stood back, stunned by her angelic presence.

            “You’re the lady of the lake?” Maeve hesitantly asked, part bowing, part cowering, feeling as if she were in the presence of royalty.

            “A lady of the lake, we are many.” She dismissed the notion of value the children placed on her, though seemed no humbler for it. “And you are the lost souls.”

            Maeve looked to the others. “We’re certainly lost,” she admitted, Orson still looked like a ghost for how pale his cheeks were, “and cold.”

            “My waters are brisker than most.” The lady ran a hand through the frigid shallows that lapped at her waist, “Perhaps you should have thought of this before you took to their depths.”

            Maeve scrunched her face; this lady of the lake was far less polite than she expected. Hope was less offended however and thought back to her experience in those depths she mentioned.

            “Your waters...” she said, “You helped me and Orson back there didn’t you.”

            “The boy was fading; I merely pushed my waters to help carry you.” The lady shunned responsibility, as if she wanted them to know she had helped in the smallest way she could. Nonetheless, Hope felt it had been the difference between life and death.

            “Why help us?” Maeve questioned, after all she’d arrived in this fabled world that fascinated her so only to be treated with disdain by most of its inhabitants. She still felt unwelcome in the presence of this lady and didn’t want her family to be falling victim to another legend. “After all you don’t seem so happy to see us.”

            “The bard called upon my services; my kin owe Taliesin a debt you see. One I will consider paid when you are on your way...safely.” She looked each of them over, finding it hard to feel any hatred towards them in their current state. They truly are lost souls, she thought. “I will not hide my disdain for mankind, yet I would not see four children perish in my grotto either.”

            “Thanks, I guess.” Maeve was less than impressed with the lady’s admission, but her mind was put at ease somewhat. “Can you help us get out of here? We’re looking for a-”. She stopped herself from saying Llyn Llyw out loud, remembering Taliesin’s words. She instead unfolded the piece of parchment, wet but legible, and showed it to her. “Taliesin warned us we were being listened to.”

            The lady raised an eyebrow at this notion, she knew for a fact they were alone down here. Nonetheless she played along, walking as close as she could in the pond and whispering, “I can. The Llyn Llyw you speak of follows on from my waters, not far from here. Its streams run down to the sea, into the mires of Cantre’r Gwaelod.” She stood up and spoke aloud, “You would be best served resting before taking such a journey to the lake you seek, to warm yourselves lest you succumb to the cold.”

            “We appreciate all you’ve done, but we can’t stay, there are men after us.”

            Neglecting Maeve’s urgency she raised her hand, the herbs to her right growing before their eyes, the reddish hue of the leaves stretching to her fingers reach. With a sharp tug she pulled a sprig from the fiery plant and held it up for all of them to see. “Tan Gwyllt, not the most pleasant taste but it will warm you like no other remedy can.”

            “Didn’t you hear her? There’s two nasty pieces of work right behind us!” Fred echoed his sister, feeling they were being deliberately ignored.

            “I suspect you do not realise where you are. You dived into the waters below Gwyddfa Rhita but have emerged in the shallows of the coast. Our domains can be vast, I had the rivers take you as far as I could from your pursuers. They will not find you here, not today.” She maintained her nonchalance, stating her abilities as if they were everyday occurrences.

            They were bewildered, none of them had felt like they had travelled any distance at all. “How far did you take us?” Hope was intrigued, well aware the depths she’d swam in were no normal waters.

            “Some miles South-West, closer to this Llyn-to this lake you seek you’ll be pleased to hear. Though that occurrence is happenstance I assure you.” Tiring of explaining how she’d reluctantly been their saviour she turned her attention back to the Tan Gwyllt. Her other hand swirled the waters to form a clear yet solid mortar and pestle, into which she tipped the sprigs and began to crush them into a fine paste. “Leave now and you’ll be dead by sundown. Drink this, rest, and you’ll make it to the lake alive.”

            Her lack of bedside manner took them aback, but they understood. The lady’s hand covered the mortar, plumes of steam rising between her fingers. Four crude earthenware cups appeared with a wave of her hand across the pebbles and one by one she poured the hot crimson remedy into them. Orson was offered his first, his face couldn’t hide his disgust, yet it also lit up with colour the moment he’d gulped the concoction down. No longer a deathly pale he told the others he felt warm and fuzzy inside, though he made sure to swill out his mouth with some water afterwards. Maeve was the last, cupping the potion in both hands. Picky with her diet at the best of times she was especially suspicious of drinking such an odd offering from a lady of the lake.

            “Drink. Rest. You will have a means out in the morn.” The lady promised. It struck Maeve that she and the lady were more alike than she wanted to admit, both thrust into predicaments they had not wished for, both bearing those predicaments begrudgingly.

            She drank it down, holding a stern composure despite the urge to hurl at the taste. She had to ask, “Why do you hate us?”

            “I do not hate you, just your kind.” She rested on the surface of the water, sitting on it as if it were solid. “My sister once trusted a man, gave herself to him. She asked only that he not strike her three times, that was all. This man could not even keep such a simple agreement.”

            “I know the story.” Maeve could recall the tale, remembering that the strikes had been gentle admonishments as punishment for strange acts such as laughing at a funeral. “I wasn’t there but it sounded like she tricked him into doing it. My grandad recently taught me a lot of life is a matter of perspective, perhaps the man wasn’t entirely to blame.”

            “Perhaps there’s truth in what you say, though bear in mind the perspective is decided by the storyteller. Our ladies recount the tale quite differently.” The lady was harbouring no ill intent during the discussion, instead finding herself now oddly fascinated with those she’d rescued. “I will not waste your night arguing semantics. The problems of the Otherworld are far bigger than ill-fated marriages of yore. Simply know that the medicine that cures you now was of her invention, I merely try to honour her example.”

            “Something she passed on to her sons despite how things ended between them. I didn’t mean any offence, thank you for helping us.” Maeve felt shameful for doubting her. She looked at the others, removing their sodden coats to dry, still toasty without them. She’d saved them, that was for sure. “You mentioned the Otherworld. Is that Annwn? Where you’re from?”

            “Yes, my birthplace but an afterlife for your kind. A land of spirits and sprites. A beautiful place.” She looked melancholy, remiss to talk of her haven as it were now. “Now that those lines blur between your world and ours, life is different. The long dead cannot rest and the fallen wander with no place to go.”

            “Lines blurred? I don’t understand...how did this happen?” Maeve was confused, none of this was matching up with any of the Mabinogi she knew. Then again she and her family never factored into the stories either, had she caused this?

            “The foolish Children of Dôn. Not content with their own realm they meddled in ours, and now both suffer for it.” The lady looked to the dimming sun above, “These matters should not be the concerns of a child, however. You may not know it, but the day has passed, rest now.”

            These answers still didn’t appease Maeve’s curiosity, but the lady veered from the topic, like a parent neglecting a sensitive subject. She set to sowing a handful of seeds in some loose earth at the waters bank, patting them down delicately. The children could see her skin begin to fade, those running waters taking its place.

            “Willow, rose hip and wild garlic. Come the morrow I will be gone but your salvation will be feasting upon this bounty.” A faint smile graced her lips as she bade them farewell, “I wish you good fortune on your path.”

            Each of them thanked her in turn, Orson especially in awe of the experience and how quickly the tonic had taken effect. Hope wondered if they’d see her again, but simply took solace in the idea that such an entity might be there for her the next time she was in troubled waters. Perhaps they had been in the past and she simply didn’t realise. The lady of the lake descended back into her waters, the cave falling dark with the departure of her light. Alone once more the children huddled together against the wall of the cavern, suddenly exhausted from the days tumultuous events. The lack of comfort didn’t get in the way of their rest. Orson laid his head on his rucksack, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. Maeve couldn’t make herself comfortable, however. She sat deep in thought, arms wrapped around her knees staring into the lake that glinted in the moonlight.

            “What do you think our salvation will be?” Hope squat next to her, seeing her sister was troubled.

            “I don’t know, she wasn’t exactly super informative was she.” Maeve rolled her eyes comically to get a smile out of Hope, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

            “I think it’s going to be a dragon.” Fred shot his idea from behind them, only a cheeky grin visible in the shadow under his pulled-up hoodie.

            “A dragon would be so cool.” Even as drowsy as he was Orson loved the idea.

            “Ooo what about a unicorn!” While the fantastical realm was dangerous, Hope and the others were now seeing the wondrous side of it. After all she had been fond of the bwbachs.

            “A unicorn would be so...” Orson was practically asleep but didn’t want to miss out on the mythical brainstorming, “...cool.”

            “It’s not going to be a dragon, or a unicorn.” Maeve shot them down, trying to think on the looming troubles the lady had alluded to.

            “Why not? We’re in the land of the Mabinogi now, there’s totally a dragon in that. Not sure about a unicorn...” Fred was an old hat at arguing with his sisters and knew that the few seconds of silence from Maeve indicated victory, at least he felt so. “Aha! See.”

            “Ugh, just go to sleep and hope you’re not set on fire in the morning.” Maeve relented. She acted the part of annoyed sister but was secretly happy to have her impish little brother pushing her buttons again. Fred didn’t argue with the prospect of some sleep though, leaving just Hope to poke Maeve’s brains.

            “What were you thinking about?” Hope asked the question she’d wanted to in the first place.

            “It just doesn’t make any sense.” Maeve frowned, struggling to articulate her own thoughts. “Gwydion’s meant to be a hero, a troublemaker, but a hero. Why is he doing all this? Kidnapping me and getting grandad killed.” Just saying grandad gave her pause, she then reflected on the ominous accounts the lady had given. “And the Otherworld’s no longer working? Because of the Children of Dôn? They’re meant to be saving princesses and helping kings, fairy-tale stuff you know. But instead, this whole realm just feels...dead. Where’s the life from the folk tales?”

            Hope had listened as best she could when her grandmother had read these stories, but they were a distant memory now. She’d need refreshing on the specifics, “Who are the Children of Dôn? Is that Efnysien guy one of them?”

            “I’m not sure…Gwydion and his brothers are, his nephew Lleu...they all seem to have magical powers and again, are the heroes!” She emphasised her last words, highlighting the incongruence between the man she’d seen and the man she’d read about. “I keep thinking on Efnysien, I swear he was one of Bendigeidfran’s men...it’s uh, a whole other story. As far as I know he had nothing to do with Gwydion, and I’m pretty sure he died...”

            Hope’s eyes began to glaze over but she tried to process as much as she could. She understood why her sister was confused at least, “It’s a mess that’s for sure.” She sighed before thinking out loud what had been on her mind since she’d seen those poor bwbachs in that cellar. “It’s like we’ve arrived here years and years after all the stories grandma told us, and those years haven’t been kind. Those bwbachs that helped us...they didn’t just look lonely, they looked like they’d been alone forever.”

            Hope found herself feeling glum at the thought of the bwbachs they’d left behind. She just hoped they’d managed to scamper away as they did. Maeve felt pity over her, she always had a naive optimism for life, and if their first day in this land was anything to go by she knew it would be tested before they could escape. She’d do everything she could to protect her.

            “I’m glad you’re here sis.” Maeve threw an arm over her sister for a hug. Hope was taken aback by the behaviour; this was perhaps the first hug she’d had all year. “Whether we solve this or not we’re getting out of here together. Even if it means talking to a fish.”

            The two giggled together for a while before drifting off to sleep. With the warmth of the Tan Gwyllt running through them the dripping cold of the cavern felt like a comfy camp around a roaring fire. It was a peaceful night for the exhausted children.

            Much to their surprise the sisters were stirred by the loud neighing of horses. Early sunshine bathed the centre of the cave in light, illuminating both Fred, Orson, and the dozen horse like creatures they were staring at across the water.

            The animals were grazing on the plants the lady had planted last night. Where the rest of the plant life in the cave had diminished in her absence these had flourished, now a buffet that had attracted these beasts. They were a fantastical sight to behold. Instead of flowing hair their manes comprised of emerald kelp, the same seaweed dangled from the tips of their chins and formed lengthy tails that draped to the floor. Where the sun shone on their hide it shared the ladies same translucent quality, though their swampy waters caught the light rather than let it shine through. They noticed another one descend from above, the sizeable heft of the beast flying through the air with effortless ease.

            “Ceffyl dŵr!” Hope exclaimed, rushing to Fred and Orson’s side to get a closer look.

            “What are they?” Orson asked. He was that bit younger than his cousins and having lived across the border he’d been the least exposed to his grandmother’s fascination with Welsh folklore. As with any subject matter though, he was eager to learn.

            “Water horses. They can well, fly and are um...made of water!” Hope struggled to think of what details Orson wouldn’t have discerned already but his face still encapsulated wonder.

            “Wow.” He quietly whispered, afraid of startling them.

            “And they’re dangerous.” Maeve warned as she skulked up behind them.

            “Dangerous how?” Hope was reluctant to let her sister besmirch the closest thing she’d seen to real life unicorns.

            “Well, I don’t know if anything I thought I knew is right anymore but, according to the stories, they’re mischievous horses. They’ll entice you into riding them, only to fly high and evaporate, leaving you to fall to your doom.” Maeve wasn’t as sure of her knowledge as she once had been but continued to assume the worst of this realm and its inhabitants.

            Orson’s wonderment dissolved but Hope still found it difficult to assume these majestic creatures would do such a thing. “Maybe these ones are different. The lady said they’d be our way out didn’t she? They can fly can’t they?”

            “I...” She felt like she was between a rock and a hard place, everything she knew from before was telling her it wouldn’t be safe, but Hope was right, the lady had likely brought these ceffyl dŵr to them. “I don’t like it.”

            “Well, we can’t stay down here forever.” Fred declared, looking at the now mostly barren grotto.

            “Okay, fine.” Maeve relented, “But as soon as we’re out of the cave we’re jumping off. If we let them take us too high who knows what will happen. Deal?”

            “Deal.” The rest of them agreed.

            None of them quite understood how Maeve could fear these horses so, some put it down to her general nervousness around animals, but this world of myth was decidedly her realm of expertise. The irksome realisation that she was playing the responsible adult dawned upon Maeve. Someone had to, she was just glad her mother wasn’t here to see it. She hadn’t fully embraced the role however, standing behind the others as they slowly approached their unwitting saviours. Another phobia of hers.

            The ceffyl dŵr weren’t alarmed as the children drew closer, quite the opposite in fact. Those closest to them removed themselves from their feast and trotted closer, bowing their heads in greeting as they surrounded the children. Maeve grew anxious but her sister was in heaven, eyes wide with love for these mythical horses. She gently ran her hand down one of their necks, the sensation of its hide like that of a water’s surface she couldn’t penetrate. It was strange, unpleasant even, but she didn’t care. As if this contact were a symbol of trust the horse knelt slowly on all fours before her, offering itself as a steed. Three others did the same besides the rest of them, their ready timidness only cementing Maeve’s doubts. I guess this is it, thought Hope as she looked to the others, wide eyed, and clambered up onto its back. Even on its haunches the ceffyl dŵr was difficult to scale. Seeing the horse rise back to its feet, Hope proud and safely atop it, the others followed her example. As soon as their mounts had stood upright they began to trot around the edge of the pool, lapping it as if it were a racetrack.

            Each of them gripped on for dear life, the elegance of these beasts was now subverted by the thunderous gallop they developed. The second time around the unimaginable happened, the shocking impacts of their hooves subsided as they slowly lifted into the air, the hard stone beneath them replaced with nothing but thin air. They lapped the pool once more, a trail of vapours splashing at their feet as if they ran the breadth of a non-existent river that rose above. Finally, this whirlwind of flight took them above the confines of the cavern, through the open skylight. The land opened to them like a long-forgotten horizon, the daunting heights of Gwyddfa Rhita far behind them and rolling hills crowning above the grassy moorlands ahead. The horses veered to the side like a flock of unwieldy birds over the winding river which ran into the cavern below. They were mere feet above the ground, but Maeve felt their steeds steadily rising beyond their control. She braced herself for the hard part.

            “Now!” She called out as loudly as she could and leaped from the horses back onto the ground below.

            At that moment it was no great height to fall but the ceffyl dŵr were flying at a pace. She tumbled forwards as she landed, kicking up a storm of water, grass, and dirt. She saw Hope and Fred do the same, albeit with more grace, but was mortified to see Orson still atop his horse ascending ever higher.

            “Orson jump!” They yelled out to no avail as they chased him, the sight of him shrinking as the horses flew higher.

            “I can’t, it’s too high!” Orson cried out but they could barely hear him. He clung to its slippery mane, eyes closed, clueless that he was now forty feet in the air and climbing.

Then Maeve’s fears came true. The four Ceffyl Dŵr evaporated into thin air, leaving nothing but a fine mist where they once were. With nothing to hold onto Orson fell, a distant but traumatic sight as he plummeted helplessly behind the treeline ahead.

            “No, no, no.” Maeve murmured, the fear of what might have happened to Orson crippling her. He’s just a kid, we’re all just kids.

            Hearts in their mouths they rushed forward to find him, Fred streaking ahead in a fevered panic as if he were hoping to catch him still. Once they came upon the clearing they could finally breathe again. He was afloat in pool of water, miserable but alive. Remarkably the pool sunk back into the grass below, the small dip in this clearing suddenly devoid of any sign of having housed a body of water before. Besides Orson of course, who now sat on dry land, sodden throughout once more. The lady evidently still watched over them they thought. Hope offered a quiet thanks. Orson was less enthused; he was relieved to be alive but couldn’t help but voice his chagrin at the whole situation.

            “I just dried these off!” He fussed; still dizzy from the heights he’d reached.

            It had been a terrifying ride though they couldn’t help but laugh at its amusing end. Together they helped him back to his feet and brushed themselves off. As scary as this place could be, they were free. The rugged countryside stretched on for miles, no Gwydion or Efnysien in sight. They meandered back to the river together, ready to follow its path to Llyn Llyw.

*

Elsewhere, deep in the crags below Gwyddfa Rhita, Gwydion hopped across the rocks towards Efnysien’s corpse. He lay there flat at the base of this valley, his rusted hair and black sword the only elements that stood out above the thick snowdrift. Gwydion crossed his arms, discontent with his associate’s apparent state.

            “This is your idea of handling Taliesin?” He remarked, glancing upwards at the lofty heights of the barracks from which he must have fallen. He waited a while with no response. “Do you even still breathe down there?”

            The snow shifted as Efnysien raised his head, fully intact but even more grimly scarred across where he’d been blown apart. He spat out a mouthful of white powder, the whiskers of his beard frozen at their tips. “And I suppose the children are bound together behind that rock?” He snidely responded, sat waist deep in the snow like an ill-tempered child.

            “You’re even uglier than when I found you.” Gwydion grimaced at the sight of the immortal, but then held up his arms. “Alas I searched far and wide, not even a trace. They must’ve had help from some force unknown. How might you explain your failing?”

            “I was assailed by the girl’s family. They are weak, yet they found a way to follow us. Employed sorcery to rend me to pieces. I told you...” he looked at Gwydion, eyebrow raised, “...Myrddin’s influence.”

            “I would see it with my own eyes first, though perhaps there’s some substance in what you say. The oaks were his secret after all.” Gwydion was loathe to agree with the butcher at his feet but there was undoubtedly more to these descendants of Pwyll than he knew. “And Taliesin?”

            “With them most likely, what little life I left in him that is. For a man so loose with his tongue he gave me damn all.” Explaining his defeat irked Efnysien no end. Truth be told he had been conscious for some time, laying in the snow, contemplating how he’d take his revenge.

            “I see...” Gwydion held his chin, concerned with how events had transpired. They’d made a mockery of him, that was for sure. He was adamant he wouldn’t underestimate them a second time. “Forget him. Get up and fetch the coranwr, have him listen to the winds for any word of the girl or her family.”

            Efnysien didn’t appreciate having orders barked at him and he wasn’t particularly fond of the coranwr. Nonetheless, he slowly rose to the command like a long-frozen creature thawing from an ice age. “And what will the mighty Gwydion do in all his wisdom?”

            Gwydion mulled over countless options, he’d walked the breadth of Wales for centuries and knew its denizens well, paying special attention to those who might be of use to him. There were many nooks in which one could hide, too many for him to search. Even in these barren lands some with power remained, a crooked master of dark magic that owed him a debt came to mind. After all, when would be a better time to call upon favours than now, the final hour? He came to a decision, “Our search widens, and no one can cover ground like the hordes of Cil Coed.”