17

The day passed slowly and the heat of the Sun was tiring. The scenery was unchanging and today there was no light-hearted chat from Tudfwlch. He remained slumped in the bow, occasionally muttering. Cynddylig allowed September to steer for a time while he made Tudfwlch swallow some water and got out some of their stored fruit and cheese for lunch. It was a sombre company that made camp that evening. Cynddylig and September helped Tudfwlch ashore and rested him on his sleeping bag, and then she collected the firewood while Cynddylig cooked supper. Tudfwlch had roused enough to eat the broth but then sank into a deep sleep.

September explained Tudfwlch’s symptoms to Aurddolen when he called.

“It is worrying that he remained ill after you healed the wound. Some of the infection must have gone to his head. Let me know how he is tomorrow and I will get some advice on what you can do to help him.”

“You have arrived at the Arsyllfa?”

“Yes. I am relieved that my journey is over and long for your arrival amongst us. We have much to do. Already I have had reports of how the power of the Malevolence is growing across the Land. We have need of your power, Cludydd.”

September was rather embarrassed and nervous of his enthusiasm for her involvement. She still had little idea what she could do against the growing evil even now that she knew that her mother had defeated it once. She bade her farewells and settled down to sleep, her birthmark still irritating a little.

 

September was very relieved to find Tudfwlch much improved in the morning. If not back to his normal self, he was up and greeted her with some of his previous warmth. Soon they were on their way, and they had not been travelling for more than a couple of hours when they approached another settlement. Cynddylig made no move to stop steering down the centre of the river. Some fishermen wading in the water close to the bank waved to them and others standing on the shore by a cluster of wooden huts also greeted them. September returned the waves.

“At least they seem unaffected by the Malevolence,” Cynddylig said.

“We’re all affected by the evil,” Tudfwlch said in a gloomy voice.

“I don’t know what you mean, Tudfwlch,” September said. “Those people don’t seem to be possessed by evil.”

“Their time will come,” Tudfwlch persisted.

“Now who is the pessimist!” Cynddylig said with a forced jollity. Tudfwlch didn’t reply but returned to watching the water.

That evening September told the Mordeyrn that Tudfwlch seemed improved if a little subdued.

“Perhaps the reality of his responsibility has come upon him,” Aurddolen replied, “he has had to use his skills with Haearn to protect you and it is a new experience for him.”

 

The next day began much the same with the familiar chores of preparing breakfast, loading the boat and cleaning their campsite, followed by the monotony of the journey. How long has it been now, September wondered. She had difficulty working out how many days they had been on the river which meandered lazily through the vast forest. Was this the seventh or the eighth day since they left Amaethaderyn? Whatever, they were over a week into their journey, perhaps a third of the way to the Arsyllfa. Their food stocks were growing low.

They were on a straight stretch of the river. It seemed to vanish into the distant heat haze. The trees lining the bank were two parallel lines of green and brown meeting somewhere near infinity. As September stared ahead it seemed that there was something in the water ahead of them not quite blocking the way but certainly sticking out from the bank into the middle of the river, but it was still too distant to distinguish clearly.

“Can you see what it is?” September asked.

“My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” Cynddylig said, “but there’s definitely some obstruction. Can you make it out Tudfwlch?”

Tudfwlch shrugged and said nothing.

“Is there a village here?” September suggested.

“No, nothing on this reach.”

“Well, I wonder what it can be?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, lass.”

Minutes passed and the boat swiftly reduced the distance to the barrier.

“It’s a boat,” September cried, “a big barge, like the one we passed.”

“What are the crew doing?” Cynddylig said, shaking his head.

September struggled to understand what she saw. “The back of it is very low in the water. It must be heavily loaded.”

“It’s not that, it’s sunk,” Tudfwlch said, in matter of fact voice, “it’s been wrecked.”

Now they were close enough to see details. The bow of the barge was driven up on to the bank, but it was listing and the stern was only just above the water level. Cynddylig slowed down to avoid approaching too close to the barge.

“I recognise that boat,” Cynddylig said, excited, “it’s the Dyfrgi. It called into Amaethaderyn a couple of days before you arrived. What has happened?”

Cynddylig held the boat motionless against the current as they examined the barge. There were great holes in the planking along the side. The roof over the cabin at the stern was charred, and the huge tiller was broken off and leaning against the stern.

Tudfwlch suddenly raised himself up in the bow and shouted.

“Anyone on board?”

“Quiet Tudfwlch, sit down,” Cynddylig ordered turning their boat downstream.

September turned to speak to him and to carry on looking at the wreck.

“What’s wrong Cynddylig? Why shouldn’t Tudfwlch call out?”

“Can’t you see girl. The boat hasn’t just run aground by accident. It’s been wrecked. It must be the work of the Malevolence.”

“But there might be people injured on board. We could help them.”

“No, lass, it’s no use any of us going on board. The crew are dead. Anyone left alive is a servant of evil. After what happened at Glanyrafon you can guess what it might be like inside.”

September shuddered but wondered how the crew of the barge had met their fate.

“They were a lovely group of people,” Cynddylig went on, “Men, women and children lived on board Dyfrgi, trading goods up and down the river. It was always a feast day when they called at Amaethaderyn.” His voice tailed off sadly. Tudfwlch snorted, and September turned in time to catch a strange grimace of a smile on his face before he turned away from her.

“What are we going to do?” September asked.

“We’ve got to move on,” Cynddylig said, “we’ll have to pass her, but I’ll keep as far away as possible.” He pulled the tiller towards his chest and the boat resumed its course up the river. Cynddylig headed towards the left bank away from the hulk of the Dyfrgi which stretched over half way across the river. The current had grown stronger as the flow of the river was forced to divert around the wreck. The little boat struggled and their progress slowed.

As they crept nearer to the stern, September saw the boat’s name written in large white letters across the wooden planking.

“What does Dyfrgi mean?” she asked.

“It’s the name of an animal.” Cynddylig replied.

“A fish?”

“No, it has four legs and lives on land, but swims and catches fish for its food. A lively, jolly creature.”

September thought for a moment, and wondered.

“An otter?”

“I do not know what word you would have for it.”

September continued to examine the barge. A movement caught her eye.

“I saw something,” she said, “Look there, by the tiller.” A figure had appeared, a woman with long blonde hair, wearing a loose, white gown. The figure raised a hand pointing to them and called out. The voice came to September like a deep moan.

“Is it one of the crew?” she asked, “Perhaps they’re hurt?”

“I told you, if they’re alive we don’t want to get close to them. Keep your hand on your stone, but keep it hidden – for now.”

September moved her hand beneath her cloak grasping the locket. They were inching past the stern of the barge now, the fast flowing water splashing against the sides of their little craft. The figure was gazing down on them, appealing with her arms outstretched.

“Tudfwlch,” Cynddylig called, “Stir yourself. Get your sword ready.”

Tudfwlch didn’t stir.

“Why? What could I possibly do?”

“What’s the matter? What’s happening?” September cried out. Cynddylig struggled to hold the tiller as the boat was hit by swirls and eddies.

“It’s not a member of the crew. It’s a Pwca!” Cynddylig gasped.

“A what?” September said, but as she looked the figure changed. It seemed to melt like a candle to take a new form. Where a moment before had stood a fair woman, now there was a black, long necked bird. It launched into the air from the stern of the barge and swooped towards them. It soared over their heads and dived into the river fifty metres ahead of them.

“It’s gone,” September said, relieved but the itch on her hip which had grown more painful, remained.

“No,” Cynddylig cried, steering away from the point where the bird had disappeared.

A great fountain of water erupted and the huge head of a serpent rose out of the water. Its neck grew and grew. The head reared over them, its small eyes glowing red. A vast mouth opened revealing a forked tongue which flicked in and out between rows of needle-like teeth.

“Tudfwlch,” Cynddylig appealed, but the young man cowered in the bow. The head lunged down at them. Cynddylig rammed the tiller over and the boat swung around. The serpent’s head smashed into the water where the boat would have been. The muscles in the neck tensed and hauled the head up with water and mud pouring from its mouth.

“Cludydd, it’s got to be you,” Cynddylig cried. September awoke from her stunned gaze at the monstrous snake. She pulled the Maengolauseren from under the cloak, snapping the locket open as she did so. She stretched her arm out, holding the stone up as the serpent’s head bore down on them again. I will destroy it, she thought.

The stone did nothing. The boat rocked violently as Cynddylig thrust the tiller over again. The serpent’s head swooped over the bow of the boat just a couple of feet above Tudfwlch’s head. He ducked.

“You could have had it then, Tudfwlch. Cursed Cemegwr!” Cynddylig called, “Where is your sword, warrior?”

The serpent was recovering for another attack while September stared at the stone in her outstretched hand. How could she make it work? What did she have to do? She remembered the faces of the evil villagers and her fear as they slashed at her companions, and she recalled what she had done to defeat the Ceffyl dwr after Eluned had tried to save her.

The eyes of the serpent were fixed on her as it prepared to strike again. September peered through the starstone at the fiendish head, its mouth wide and the snake-like tongue flickering at her. She could feel its furnace hot breath. The image of the serpent exploding in a ball of fire came into her head. That’s what she wanted to happen.

A vivid blue beam flashed from the stone to the head of the serpent, blowing it apart in a ball of violet and yellow flame. The flames roared down the neck, vaporising the flesh instantly. A crash of thunder accompanied the dissipation of the monster.

The boat bucked as waves of hot air radiated outwards from the serpent’s last position. The hot wind passed over them and the river was calm again. Cynddylig straightened the tiller and at full speed put as much distance as he could between them and the wreck of the Dyfrgi.

September sank into her seat amongst the sacks, taking deep breaths and still shaking.

“Well done, Cludydd. You have saved us again.”

September rolled over to face him.

“What was that thing? What did you call it?”

“A Pwca. An air manifestation of the Adwyth. It can change its form at will, as the clouds can change.”

“How did you know?”

“When the figure appeared on the stern of the Dyfrgi I realised it was not one of the crew or indeed any real person. It must have been something that could take on the form of a human; hence it must be a Pwca. Its fiery breath could have destroyed us, but the stone saved us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know why it didn’t work straight away when I opened the locket. I thought, I’ve got the super weapon, all I have to do is point it and the monster will be destroyed, but it didn’t happen,” September said sadly.

“You hadn’t found the command.”

“Perhaps. I couldn’t think what to do until I remembered you and Tudfwlch fighting the people and Eluned leaping to attack the water horse. I remembered the fear and the anger I’d felt then.”

“There you are. You need the emotions and you need your companions to be there with you,” Cynddylig raised his voice, “Tudfwlch, why didn’t you fight?”

September turned towards the bow. Tudfwlch was curled up in his seat.

“What good would I be? I don’t have the Maengolauseren to cast violet fire and destroy all monsters. All I have is a simple sword of Haearn.”

“But, you do have power,” September said, “you showed how good you were with the sword before.”

“Aye lad. One slash of your blade would have severed the Pwca’s neck. The energy in the haearn would have done the rest.”

Tudfwlch grunted and buried his head in his arms. Cynddylig shook his head.

“I don’t know what is wrong with the lad,” he said quietly, “it’s almost as if he’s jealous of your power.”

“It’s not my power,” September said, “The stone produces the fire to get rid of these monsters.”

“Don’t be modest. The stone draws energy from the heavens but you are the sluice gate that controls and directs it. In someone else’s hands, who knows what it might do.”

 

The rest of the journey that day was trouble-free, even boring. Tudfwlch remained sullen and morose in the bow refusing to converse with September. Cynddylig did allow September to steer for a time but that was the only thing that distracted her from her thoughts. She felt she needed to practise using the starstone, to understand how to wield its power. Five times now it had come to their rescue to save her and her companions from attack by the forces of the Malevolence, but she had little idea about what she had done. It seemed to be a mixture of strong emotions and powerful commands like “Be Gone” were needed but it all seemed rather random. With the fear of revealing herself yet again, she couldn’t even take it out to examine and try out various ideas. She wondered how well Mother had mastered the stone. Could she have told her what to do? She had never had control of anything that was potentially harmful. Mother let her use the vacuum cleaner but she managed to get that clogged up with fluff. Why was she expected to handle the energy of the starstone? Surely there were people more suited to being heroes than her.

They moored at nightfall, made camp, bathed and ate the thin gruel that Cynddylig prepared eking out their diminishing stock of vegetables. Tudfwlch still remained aloof. Was he really jealous of her or merely embarrassed that he had not done more to fight the Pwca? September told the Mordeyrn all about it when he made his regular call. He was upset to hear of the destruction of the Dyfrgi but relieved that they were unhurt.

“Tudfwlch worries me. He is a fine young man, a warrior. He should be taking the lead when you meet your foes. Keep a watch on him.”

As had become the normal routine, Tudfwlch was to take the first watch of the night. September settled down as usual but made sure she stayed awake for as long as she could. Tudfwlch sat impassively not reacting to any of the occasional noises that disturbed the night.

 

Day after day passed with September both familiar and bored with the daily routine. They had another day of steady rain but otherwise the sky remained clear and sitting in the boat hour after hour was hot and uncomfortable. September was grateful for the shade that the cloak provided her. The river continued to meander through the tropical forest. They passed a few communities but Cynddylig refused to pull in despite getting anxious about their food supply. He didn’t want people to meet September and he was wary of any more encounters with the servants or manifestations of the Malevolence. At least they could pick up some food whenever they stopped for the night. There were usually fruit or nut bearing trees near their campsite although as it was always nearly dark when they stopped it was difficult to forage. Tudfwlch seemed to improve but he remained withdrawn and less talkative than he had been at the start of their journey.

September came to admire Cynddylig more and more for his knowledge of the river and his skill at producing interesting food from the same ingredients day after day. But the daily repetition and the unchanging scenery were getting to September, as was the constant itch on her thigh. She had tried to keep track of the days. How many was it now, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen? She reckoned they must have travelled well over a thousand kilometres from Amaethaderyn, but the view did not seem to have altered a bit.

Then there was a change of routine. It was still mid-afternoon when Cynddylig steered the little craft towards a clearing on the bank.

“Are we stopping?” September asked.

“Yes,” Cynddylig replied.

“Why? There are still a few hours to nightfall.”

“This is the last mooring before we reach the great lake and we have to make a decision.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain when we have made camp.”

They pulled the boat onto the beach and unloaded all that they needed for the night stop. As there was still plenty of daylight, September and Tudfwlch went collecting oranges and nuts from the wild trees that grew in the forest. When they returned they found that Cynddylig had caught some fish and was preparing the meal.

September sat on the ground while Cynddylig worked.

“What is the decision we have to make?” she asked.

“The river enters Llyn Pysgod on the west side of the lake. The lake is large and is home to many people because of all the fish that live in it. Hence its name, Lake of Fish. If we travel around the edge of the lake it will take us four or five days to reach the river again and we will not be able to avoid passing through quite a few communities. Alternatively we can set off straight across the lake. At full speed it will take us a day and half including travelling throughout the night. We will not be able to stop to eat or sleep. The lake is deep in parts and if a storm should blow up we could be in danger.”

“But it cuts a couple of days off the journey to go straight across.”

“That’s right.”

“How do we find our way in the middle of a lake at night?”

“We follow the stars.”

“Well, I don’t think there is anything to discuss,” September said, relishing the change of routine, “we head straight across.”

“I thought you would say that. What about you Tudfwlch?”

Tudfwlch looked up from his bed where he had been lying, apparently not caring to listen to the conversation. He shrugged but didn’t reply.

“Seems he hasn’t got an opinion,” Cynddylig said, “So, we eat well now, sleep, collect firewood and get on the river at dawn. Then we should be able to moor in the gorge by nightfall the day after tomorrow.”

They did as Cynddylig suggested and the Mordeyrn backed up the decision to head across the lake. September settled to sleep but was excited. At last there would be a change, something different to see. Despite the dangers Cynddylig had warned of she was eager to set off again.