18

They were surrounded by water; no land in sight except for a thin grey line on the western horizon and that had been there since they entered the lake. September was aware of how small their boat really was as waves broke over the sides soaking their bags. Cynddylig held the tiller firm, maintaining a line with the Sun directly behind them. It hardly seemed that they had only been travelling for a couple of hours.

Cynddylig had got September out of her sleeping bag while it was still dark. They had eaten and loaded the boat before the morning’s first light. A short while later, less than an hour, September reckoned, with the Sun only just rising above the trees behind them, a final bend in the river had taken them out into the lake. The shore had quickly disappeared to the north and south. Cynddylig directed the boat out into the empty waters. It could have been an ocean rather than a lake. The far horizon was a grey line that may have been haze or their destination. Tudfwlch had settled morosely amongst the bags in the bow and September tried to make herself more comfortable amongst the sacks and barrels, but the boat was rocking from side to side in an unfamiliar manner. Without the protection of the tall trees they were exposed to the wind that blew from the south-west. At first it just seemed gentle and cooling as the Sun rose in a clear sky, but gradually September realised that the wind was creating the waves that broke over the side of the boat.

Now she and Cynddylig were looking anxiously at the sky. The Sun was no longer a bright orb in clear blue. Instead it glowed dimly from overcast cloud and the wind had grown in strength.

“I fear luck is not with us,” Cynddylig called as another wave topped the side of the boat and soaked September’s thighs. She was grateful that the cloak kept water off her as well as the rays of the Sun.

“Will it get worse?” she shouted over the moan of the wind and the crashing of the waves.

“Before it gets better, yes. Even if we don’t have to face a full storm there is at least a squall on its way.”

“What can I do?”

“Stay as low as you can, but bale out the water that’s coming aboard.”

September piled up the sacks around her to raise the sides of the boat and found the cooking pot. She started scooping up the water that was pooling in the bottom of the hull. Tudfwlch too, used a bucket to remove the water. At least the activity took her mind off the rocking of the boat that had been making her feel queasy.

The sky darkened until the sun was no longer visible at all, and the wind grew stronger. Cynddylig had both arms wrapped around the tiller ensuring that the gold powered engine noiselessly propelled them into the waves that were breaking viciously over the bow. September and Tudfwlch baled faster.

Then the rain came. Great huge drops of cold water, falling from the dark grey sky. They hammered on September’s head and rivulets of water ran down the cloak into her lap, dribbling inside to soak her tunic and trousers. The boat was rapidly filling and as fast as she filled her pot so more water ran into the bottom of the boat. There was nothing to see to the left, right, forward or behind and she had no idea whether they were still moving forwards or backwards or in circles.

Tudfwlch crawled over the bags and barrels towards her.

“If you were really the Cludydd o Maengolauseren, you would do something,” he shouted over the roar of the wind and rain.

“What do you mean?”

“The stone can command the weather.”

“Do you mean this storm is caused by the Malevolence?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but the bearer of the stone has power over nature.”

“I don’t know what to do?”

Tudfwlch was in front of her, their faces barely centimetres apart. His eyes glowed with a strange light and his mouth was twisted into an unusual grimace. September tried to push herself away from him.

“What are you doing, Tudfwlch? You need to keep baling,” Cynddylig shouted over the noise of the storm.”

“You don’t know anything, do you,” Tudfwlch sneered at September, “You’re not the seventh child of the Cludydd Breuddwyd. You don’t deserve to bear the stone.” He grabbed her arm.

“What do you mean, Tudfwlch? Get off me.”

“Give me the stone. I will show you what I can do with it.” He lunged forward, pushing her onto her back. She fought to get up but was caught amongst the bags and sacks.

“I want it,” Tudfwlch screamed. His hand reached inside her cloak. September felt his cold, wet hand groping between her breasts. She struggled to get free but Tudfwlch was pressing down on her. She felt his fingers grip the pendant. He tugged and the silver chain snapped.

“I have it,” Tudfwlch’s cry pierced the roar of the storm, “Now the Adwyth cannot be defeated.” He raised himself up, and held the silver locket bearing the Maengolauseren in his upraised hand. September found herself free to move again. There was something pressing against her side. Her hand investigated. It was the knife that she carried fastened to her belt. She slid it out of its scabbard.

“Give the stone back to me,” she appealed to Tudfwlch.

“Never! Its power is mine now,” he snarled, his eyes glowing red. The stone remained unlit. Tudfwlch looked at it then thrust it up again towards the sky.

“I am the cludydd now,” he shouted above the roar of the storm.

September pulled her hand from under her cloak and punched upwards. The knife of Haearn, crafted by Iorwerth and imbued with the power of Mawrth, slid through the threads of Tudfwlch’s tunic and pierced his abdomen. A look of shock passed across his face, he looked down at the handle of the blade, still held by September’s hand, thrust into his side. September bent her arm and the knife slipped out. The red light in Tudfwlch’s eyes dulled as blood poured from the wound, running down his thigh to mix with the rain and the pool of water in the hull of the boat; and then he toppled sideways. The boat rolled over a wave and Tudfwlch fell overboard. The Maengolauseren fell from his weakening grasp as he hit the water and sank out of sight.

“No! No!” September screamed, “Cynddylig stop the boat.” She had no idea whether Cynddylig obeyed her or was already reacting but she felt the motion of the boat change. Now they were at the mercy of the waves. The boat rolled and yawed violently. September looked over the side but Tudfwlch had disappeared as indeed had the stone in its silver casing.

September sobbed, “What have I done?”

“You had no choice,” Cynddylig called through the wind and rain, “Tudfwlch was possessed by the Malevolence.” Almost as he spoke the storm seemed to pass over. The wind died away and the rain faded to drizzle. The boat’s motions settled. September sank into the bottom of the boat, crying. Everything had gone wrong; she had lost the starstone and killed her friend. Her body shook and tears filled her eyes as she saw again the last crazed look on Tudfwlch’s face as he tore the locket from her and what she had done to him. The knife was still in her hand. She dropped it and it clattered amongst the spars at the bottom of the boat.

“Cludydd! Cludydd! By the Cemegwr!” Cynddylig’s calls penetrated her self-pity.

“What?”

“Get up. You must find the Maengolauseren.”

September sat up and peered through tear-filled eyes. The clouds were clearing, the Sun was already shining and the wind had dropped to a drying, warm breeze.

“How can I find it? Tudfwlch dropped it in the lake when he fell.” Another bout of shoulder-shaking sobbing took hold of her.

“Of course you can find it. You are linked to the stone. It will find you if you search.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course.”

Perhaps the stone wasn’t lost for good. Perhaps it would rise into her hands if she just got into the water. She stood up and took the cloak off; after all, there was nothing to hide anymore. She removed her belt and the sopping wet tunic and trousers and kicked off her sandals. She stood up straight, naked, suddenly aware that Cynddylig could see her. She turned to look at him. He was watching her but not with a leery look.

“I know what you are thinking, young lady. I have seen a naked young woman before, many times, but my years of yearning are over.”

She realised how silly it was to feel modest at this desperate time. She held her nose in her right hand, put a foot on the side of the boat and stepped into the lake. The water of the lake enveloped her. She kicked her feet, not touching the bottom, and then she was rising back to the surface. Her eyes opened; the hull of the boat was nearby. She broke the surface and shook her head to clear her ears and nose. The water was colder than the river had been but not uncomfortable. She looked around. Apart from the boat and Cynddylig sitting anxiously in the stern there was nothing else to see. There was no sign of Tudfwlch and certainly no sign of the stone and its silver chain.

September had never been a strong swimmer and she had always hated being under water. She had floated easily enough; her fat acted as a buoyancy ring. Now she felt different, determined, unafraid of the depth of water beneath her. She took a deep breath and dived. The water was murky and visibility quickly dropped. She kicked her legs to push herself deeper but the pressure of the water pushed her back to the surface. She broke into air again and clung on to the side of the boat, breathing deeply.

“I can’t reach the bottom.”

“The lake’s a good ten arms’ reaches deep,” Cynddylig said stretching his arms wide to demonstrate. That’s about twenty metres or more, September calculated; I can’t dive that far.

“What can I do? The stone must have sunk to the bottom.”

“It will find you.”

“Yes, but it can’t move on its own. I’ve got to get to it.” She hung onto the boat, “Help me get on board please, Cynddylig.”

He got up from his seat and came to the side of the boat. He placed his hands under her armpits. She saw the muscles in his thin, leathery arms tighten and he hauled her up. She hooked a leg over the side and pushed herself upright. They stood in the boat with her dripping breasts rubbing against his tunic. He looked down at her.

“What’s that you have around your neck?”

She lifted her hand to feel and found the phial that Eluned had given her. It had been there alongside the Maengolauseren for over a fortnight and she’d barely thought about it.

“Eluned gave it to me. It contains mercury.”

“Arianbyw.”

“She said that although I couldn’t change into another animal like she can, it would change me and any material in any way that I wished.”

Cynddylig released her and September sat amongst the drying bags. The old boatman returned to his seat by the tiller.

“Perhaps it could help you now.”

“I don’t know. To reach the bottom of the lake I’ll need to be able to push myself down.”

“You’ll have to hold your breath a long time.”

“I need to be a mermaid, don’t I?”

September had an image of her lower body turned into the silvery body of a fish. Anything you wish, Eluned had said. Well, it was worth a go. She stood up and searched for the metal cloak. She found it and wrapped it around her middle.

“What are you doing?” Cynddylig asked.

“Trying something.”

The cloak hung like a long skirt from her waist and folds of the metal cloth covered her feet. She took the phial from around her neck and loosened the tiny cork. She held the small crystal bottle at her waist and carefully tipped it. A drop of silver liquid formed at the spout and fell onto the metal cloth. It broke into tiny spheres that ran over the metallic threads then disappeared. She closed her eyes and summoned up the image of herself as a mermaid. Cynddylig gasped and she felt the cloak tighten around her legs and hips. Her feet felt strange and she half fell, half sank onto the baggage.

“I don’t know how it happened, but something has,” Cynddylig said. September opened her eyes and looked down at herself. The cloak had certainly changed. Now her lower half was encased in smooth silver which ended with a broad fin covering her feet. She put the stopper back into the phial and replaced it around her neck.

“I’m not sure how long this will last or even whether it will work,” she said hauling herself to the side of the boat, “but I’ll give it a try.” She filled her lungs with air and slipped into the water.

With a flick of her tail she dived, descending rapidly. There seemed to be no pain in her chest as she held her breath and she felt no panic. The water grew dark and cold but still she dived, her eyes open, searching for the bottom. She started to circle as she descended, extending her search.

The light appeared before she saw the dark, muddy bottom of the lake. It was a tiny pinprick of blue, deeper still and some distance to her right. Without hesitation she swam towards it. The light grew in intensity illuminating the surrounding silt. There were creatures down here, a starfish, a crab, a few small fish, curious about the strange glowing object. Now she was full of joy. She reached for it and picked up the silver locket and chain and its glowing stone. With the pendant held firmly in her hand she waved her tail and turned upwards. She rose like a bubble in a bottle of lemonade, faster and faster until she broke the surface. The boat was a few metres away. Cynddylig was sitting in the stern, his arm around the tiller and staring intently into the water.

“I have it,” she cried joyfully, waving her arms. She swam smoothly to the boat. As Cynddylig leant down to grab her, a shiver passed down her spine and she felt different. She had feet again and her silver skin had become the metal cloak which dragged in the water. Cynddylig hauled her on to the boat and hugged her.

“You were gone so long, I was worried,”

“So long? It hardly seemed a minute. I had no difficulty holding my breath.”

“You were gone for many, many heartbeats. I do not know how you didn’t drown. Eluned’s powers are evidently strong.”

“Yes, Eluned has saved me again. Look, I have the stone. You were right; it was signalling to me.” She opened her hand. The stone no longer glowed and was hidden inside its casing. “But the chain is broken.”

“Let me see. I have some tools for looking after our engine, which may be of use.”

They sat together in the middle of the boat, the locket firmly in September’s hand while Cynddylig used a small pair of pliers taken from a leather wallet to mend the broken links of the chain. In moments he had it fixed and September gratefully hung it round her neck.

“Now my girl, we must move. We don’t want to spend two nights on the lake.” Cynddylig moved to the stern and took hold of the tiller. Silently the boat slipped through the water with the Sun now overhead in a cloudless sky. September dressed herself in her clothes which had dried and wrapped the cloak around herself. Then she sat in her usual seat. Her discarded knife lay in the hull. She picked it up and looked at it then she looked ahead. The bow was empty. The memory of what had happened returned and she put her head on her knees and cried.

“What’s the matter?” Cynddylig asked.

“I killed Tudfwlch,” she cried, turning her tear stained face to the stern, and waving the knife at Cynddylig, “He was my friend and I killed him.”

“It wasn’t your friend. It wasn’t the Tudfwlch you knew,” Cynddylig said sternly, “I should have recognised the signs, the change of personality, the misery, the defeatism, the unwillingness to help. He had become a servant of the Adwyth.”

“But did I have to kill him?”

“Yes. It was lucky you had a blade of Haearn to hand. If you hadn’t killed him he would have done for you and me.”

“But how did it happen? How could he become evil? He wanted to help me so much.”

“He did and that’s the Tudfwlch we must recall. It must have been the cut on his hand. We thought the arian had healed it but the evil must have got inside. He wasn’t the same after Glanyrafon was he?”

“No, you’re right. First he was sick, then he seemed, well, different.”

“The power of the Malevolence was growing inside him, like a maggot in an apple, destroying him and taking over his body.”

“Couldn’t we have done something?”

“Well, I’ve seen enough evil in my time and after what happened to the people of Glanyrafon I should have recognised the changes that were taking place in him; but, no, there was nothing we could do. We would have had to confront him sooner or later.”

September grasped the Maengolauseren in her hand and thrust it out from its hiding place beneath the folds of the cloak. She cried out.

“What about this? Couldn’t this magic stone have got rid of the evil in him?”

“I don’t know lass. I don’t know of any way of drawing evil out of a person once it’s inside them but I don’t know what powers that stone has.”

September sank back into the boat, still shaking.

“Just remember, Cludydd, that despite what happened, Tudfwlch himself would rather have died than let you come to harm or allow the Maengolauseren to fall within the powers of the Adwyth. If anything you put what was left of him out of his misery.”

September returned the knife to its scabbard on the belt at her waist. She realised the irritation in her side had stopped. The boat powered onwards, cutting through the calm waters smoothly and swiftly. The Sun, past its zenith, now pointed the way ahead, but still there was no sign of their destination. The waters of the lake surrounded them with no hint of land in any direction nor were there any other vessels in sight.

“Is the lake always this deserted?” September asked.

“Now, yes, but in the past no. When I was making frequent trips, Llyn Pysgod was a busy place. Many boats made the journey across it and there were boats moving from one community to another on its banks and the fishermen would cast their nets all across it. Now the people keep to the edges and the trading boats are few in number.”

“All because of the Malevolence?”

“Yes. As we’ve seen already, the evil troubles everyone even if they have not been attacked by manifestations. The breakdown of trust sets each community apart.”

“Do you think this evil can be beaten?”

“I don’t know lass. The Malevolence has grown so strong and will become more powerful yet. I do not know if the people have the strength to withstand it.”

“And what about me? When we set off you said you didn’t know whether I would be of any help.”

“I still don’t know, girl,” Cynddylig said gruffly, “I’m sorry, I wish I did. I have never been taught all the tales as Tudfwlch was and I’ve never been convinced that the goodness of the people was a strong enough defence against the evil. Not even the Cemegwr, if they exist, have opposed the evil. While the seasons went round, year after year, I couldn’t accept that the growing power of the Malevolence could be defeated as it has been before by the appearance of the Cludydd o Maengolauseren,” his voice softened, “but over the last couple of weeks I have learned that you do have power, that the stone can defeat the servants of the Adwyth. Whether it will be enough to drive the evil off the Earth and back above the sphere of stars, I don’t know. But lass, you have brought hope and that is important in itself.”

September had listened to this speech feeling wretched and disconsolate, but his final words cheered her somewhat.

“Thank you, Cynddylig. I hope that when we are with the Mordeyrn again, he will be able to show me what I have to do.”

“Let us hope so, Cludydd.”

 

They sailed on, as far as September could tell, in a straight line. The Sun sank below the horizon ahead of them and the sky quickly turned from blue, to violet then black. She lay back in the boat and looked up. Soon her eyes grew accustomed to the dark and she marvelled at what she could see. Camping each night beneath the trees had given little opportunity to look up at the night sky, but out here on the centre of the lake there was nothing between her and the universe. She felt that she was surrounded by a great dome of stars. She had never seen so many, had never been anywhere at night so free of light pollution. Astronomy had not interested her so she had never learnt the constellations, but she did recognise the Plough, up there on her right in the northern sky.

“It’s wonderful,” she sighed.

“Aye, it is lass.”

“You can keep us on course by following the stars?”

“I hope so.”

“You know the stars?”

“Well some. You don’t need a guide to navigate the river, but from time to time I crossed Llyn Pysgod at night so I’ve learned how to maintain our direction. I keep the Seren Gogledd to our right.”

“Seren Gogledd?”

“The star in the north that does not move.”

“Oh, I think that’s called the Pole Star.”

Cynddylig pointed to it and explained how to find it using the pattern of stars that she knew as the Plough. September recalled something she heard at school.

“It’s right over the North Pole so seems to keep still while the Earth turns.”

“What do you mean the Earth turns?” Cynddylig said, “The Earth is motionless and the sphere of stars revolves around us.”

September recalled something similar said by the Mordeyrn on her first visit.

“Oh yes, you think the Sun, Moon, planets and all the stars orbit around the Earth and that’s all there is in the universe.”

“Of course, how else can it be?”

“And what is beyond the stars?”

“The realm of the Malevolence, from which all evil comes.”

“And where the unborn go, is that what someone told me?”

“So they say, I don’t know.”

September shook her head. The beliefs of the people in the Land were completely at odds with what her teachers had painstakingly drummed into her. It still confused her. At home the Earth was just an insignificant speck in a vast, unfeeling universe while here it was the centre of a small and threatened enclave of good. At home there were no monsters, nor magic stones and spells that could turn her into a mermaid when she needed it, but here there were. At home her twin sister had simply been stillborn; here she may still exist amongst the stars in some evil guise. A thought came into her head.

“What about those that have lived. What happens when they die?”

“Their goodness sinks into the Earth to be reborn in new life.”

“And what about the evil things? What happens to them when they have been killed?”

“They are of the Adwyth.”

“So are they dead?” September felt a sudden shiver, “Is Tudfwlch really dead?”

“Is evil ever truly destroyed? I don’t know. As for Tudfwlch... well the boy you knew has gone, and what was left did the Malevolence’s bidding; I don’t know much more than that. Your blow with the knife was enough to kill a man. He sank into the depths and neither of us saw him again. He should be gone.”

September was not convinced by Cynddylig’s reasoning and neither, she thought, was Cynddylig himself. The air had grown cool now that night was upon them.

“Come next to me,” Cynddylig called, “we can keep each other warm.” September crawled over the bag to sit next to the old man with the tiller between them. He placed his right arm around her shoulders pulling her against him while placing his left hand on the tiller.

“Thank you, Cynddylig.”

“What for lass?”

“For looking after me.”

“I should be thanking you. You’ve saved my life enough times in the last weeks.”

 

Later, they shared some fruit and nuts and water from their barrel. September took the copper horn from her pouch and placed it to her ear. She blew into it softly and very quickly the Mordeyrn’s voice came to her. As she told him of Tudfwlch’s attack her eyes filled with tears and once again she felt remorse and loss. She sobbed through her account of driving her knife into him and his fall into the lake. Aurddolen was sympathetic.

“I am sorry, Cludydd. My guidance has been wanting. I too should have recognised the signs in what you have told me about Tudfwlch’s manner but even I, who should know so much, have been surprised by the rise in power of the Malevolence. I did not think that someone with Tudfwlch’s training and desire could so quickly fall into evil. Now I wish I had waited in Amaethaderyn for your arrival so that we could journey together, but I am weakened and of course I did not know when you would reappear.”

“I wish you were here too, but Cynddylig has supported me a lot.”

“I thought he would prove to be a strong companion as well as an able guide, but tell me what happened after you fought off Tudfwlch’s attack.”

September recounted the loss of the Maengolauseren and her successful search for it aided by Eluned’s mercury. The Mordeyrn was surprised and complimentary about September’s resourcefulness.

“It was Eluned’s spell,” she said.

“Nevertheless, you have shown remarkable prowess in making use of it,” he insisted. He wished her a quiet night on the calm waters of the lake and she put the horn away. She settled amongst the sacks with her warm sleeping bag draped loosely over her and the gentle rocking of the boat soon lulled her to sleep.

She awoke to find it still dark, the stars still shining overhead. She looked towards the stern. Cynddylig sat at the tiller impassive. Beyond him, away in the east, just above the horizon hung a crescent moon. Cynddylig saw her gazing.

“Ah, you are awake. Come and take the tiller, while I get some relief.” September crawled to the back of the boat while Cynddylig moved carefully to the side and knelt on the gunwale. “Thank you, September. It won’t be long before daylight now.”

“Are we on course?”

“I hope so.”

“I don’t really know where we are going except we have to find the river on the other side of the lake.”

“Ah, you will shortly see one of the wonders of Gwlad. The great wall of Clogwyn Llwyd Uchel”

“A wall? Clog...what?”

“The great grey cliffs. You’ll see.”

“But how will we be able to carry on if there are cliffs ahead?”

“The river has carved our passage – Hafn Afon Deheuol – a great cleft in the rocks.”

It sounded like a sight worth travelling to see, but when the Sun crept into the sky behind them, they were still completely surrounded by water with only a distant haze on the horizon. They ate fruit and nuts again for breakfast and drank fresh water. September washed herself as best she could using the water from the lake.

“Will we get there in daylight?”

“We must; I daren’t try to enter the gorge in the dark.”

“Will we do it?”

“If we do not suffer any more bad weather or delays, then I think we should.”

 

While the Sun passed over their heads, September lay in the middle of the boat, occasionally taking the tiller while Cynddylig stretched. She could tell he was getting tired but only he could steer the boat in a straight course across the featureless water. Around noon September realised that the grey line on the horizon ahead of them had grown a little. She watched in fascination as minute by minute, hour by hour, it grew from a line into a band and finally took on the form of a cliff. They were still hours away and September began to realise how the cliffs had got their name. She had once been on a ferry across the English Channel and had stared at the white cliffs in wonder. Those were nothing in comparison she now realised. Late in the afternoon when they were still kilometres away from land, the grey cliffs reared over them. They must be a thousand metres high, September thought, vertical cliffs rising directly out of the water and stretching for hundreds if not thousands of kilometres north and south. She realised that Cynddylig was peering anxiously in each direction along the immense grey wall.

“Can you see the gorge, September? My eyes are not what they once were.” September joined in the search. The grey cliffs seemed almost featureless, almost as if they were an immense slab of concrete. But there, was that it? A vertical line, slightly darker than the rest of the cliff. She stood up, and pointed excitedly a few degrees to the left of their present course.

“There, is that it? Do you see it, Cynddylig?” He aimed the boat in the direction she pointed to. Minutes passed before he nodded. He looked up at the Sun, a few hand widths above the cliff.

“Well done lass. If the Sun had been just a little lower the shadow would have obscured it. We should be safely ashore for nightfall.”

They drew closer and closer to the cliffs. So intimidating had their height become that they seemed to topple right over them. September knew it was an illusion but it gave her an uncomfortable feeling nevertheless. The thin crack opened up to become an alleyway, then a corridor into the cliffs. The boat was buffeted by the current of the river water pouring from the gorge. It wasn’t a broad waterway, no more than ten of their boat lengths wide, but it carried a huge volume of water. The little boat shuddered as its magical motor struggled to make headway.

The great jaws of the gorge opened on either side of them as Cynddylig aimed for the centre of the gap. September leaned back and craned her neck to see the top of the cliffs but it was an impossible task. Now that the cliff face was close she could see that it wasn’t completely smooth. There were small crevices and overhangs, places where a gull could land if not actually make a nest, and she could see birds wheeling in the air and diving into the water for fish.

Then they were inside the gorge and the jaws seemed to close behind them. The river filled the bottom of the gorge with the cliffs rising vertically from the water on either side.

“How are we going to land?” she called.

“Don’t worry; it’s not as forbidding as it looks.”

The first few hundred metres of the gorge were straight as if cleaved by a gigantic axe. The river flowed swiftly past them. Then ahead, with the light fading as the Sun sank below the cliff top far above them, September saw a bend in the river. On the far side the waves broke against the cliff walls but on the near side there was a small promontory. Cynddylig directed the boat into the side.

“Get the rope, girl. You’ll have to jump ashore and hold the boat while I make her fast.” September crept to the bow, the trailing hem of the cloak getting under her feet. She found the rope, hitched the cloak up around her waist and stood with one foot on the bow, waiting for the moment. The flow of water was less here, shielded by the bend, and Cynddylig manoeuvred the boat skilfully. September saw a small platform in the cliff, a metre above the water level.

“There you are, lass. Jump!” September leapt. She staggered and slid for a moment as her sandals found a grip on the small flat area of rock. With her feet steady she leaned back against the cliff wall and hauled on the rope. Cynddylig brought the stern in gently and hopped onto the landing with the stern rope.

“You’ll find rings in the rock,” he said. September looked behind her and, sure enough, there was a black, iron ring hanging from a spike driven into the rock. She tied the rope to it while Cynddylig did the same with a similar ring.

“There,” he sighed, “we’ve made it. And just in time too.” Almost like switching off a light, the shadow fell over them and it was dark. They unloaded what they needed from the boat to make their campsite on the small, flat area of rock. Now September realised why they had loaded firewood on to the boat at their last camp. There were no trees in the gorge. While collecting bags, September discovered Tudfwlch’s short sword in its scabbard lying discarded in the bottom of the boat.

“What should we do with this?” she asked, holding it up for Cynddylig to see.

“Keep it for now, and perhaps return it to Cludydd Iorwerth if the occasion arises. You may have need of a larger blade than your knife.”

They soon had a small fire lit and September was grateful for Cynddylig’s cookery after two days without hot food. But after they had eaten, Cynddylig looked exhausted.

“You need to sleep, Cynddylig,” she said, “I’ll keep watch.”

“Thank you, Cludydd. I am in need of rest but please wake me if anything troubles you.” He settled into his sleeping bag and was soon snoring softly. September wrapped herself in her cloak and sleeping bag and sat with her back resting against the cliff. It wasn’t particularly comfortable but she needed to stay awake. She looked up. Most of her view was of the rearing bulk of the cliff, but directly above was a slice of star-filled night sky.

A soft horn note had her fumbling for her leather pouch. She was grateful for the contact with Aurddolen – another means of keeping her awake. He was very thankful they had managed to have a successful day and were safely moored in the gorge.

“Despite the flow of the river, you should reach the twin towns in two or three days. I am wary of announcing your arrival, but I shall send guides to escort you from there into the hills.”

“I am looking forward to that.”

“I am worried that with the Malevolence growing so powerful, you may face further trials. Even with the cloak masking your presence, the occasions when the Maengolauseren has been exposed have been beacons of your progress. The evil may be drawn to your route but I have no power to protect you.”

The Mordeyrn’s words worried September. Even with the starstone to defend them the threat of attacks by monsters scared her.

“May you travel safely,” the Mordeyrn said in farewell.

September put the horn away and sat gripping the locket under her cloak in one hand. She thought for a moment then took the scabbard of Tudfwlch’s sword and fitted it onto her leather belt. Then she sat again against the cliff with the stone in one hand and Tudfwlch’s sword in the other.

 

The night seemed to last forever although September was not certain she had been awake the whole time. It was still dark when Cynddylig stirred. He yawned and stretched.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said. He glanced up at the sliver of night sky, “There are still a couple of hours of night left. You get some sleep, lass.”

September wondered whether she would drop off having struggled to remain awake, but in a few moments she was unaware of the hard rock beneath her.

 

Sounds of movement and the boat bumping against the rock awoke her. It still seemed dark under the cliff but as she opened her eyes she saw twinkles of sunlight reflecting off the ripples in the river and overhead the splinter of sky was a light blue. Cynddylig was loading the boat.

“Good morning, lass,” he said cheerfully, “time to be moving.”

September rubbed her tired eyes and got up. Quickly, she prepared herself for the day’s journey and soon she was untying the rope, stepping into the bow and pushing off from the rock. Cynddylig pulled out into the stream and September looked back to the thin shaft of light that marked the entrance to the gorge and the Sun just above the distant horizon. Then they turned the bend and were back into dark shadow.

The gorge zigged and zagged like a crack in glass. Each ‘zig’ was several hundred metres long and almost the whole time they seemed to be in a shadow cast by the left or right wall of the gorge. At each bend the river crashed against the rocks as the water was forced to change direction, and the flow of water kept their speed below what September had become accustomed to. The sound of the water was a constant undertone to their travel. There was no other noise, but whenever one of them spoke their voice echoed off the walls of the gorge. They saw no other boats and there were no communities as there was no land. September found the day’s journey in the depths of the gorge sinister. She felt trapped and worried that there was nowhere to escape from the river and the immense cliffs. There were however more of the small landing stages cut into the vertical bank at intervals along the gorge, and when the sunlight disappeared from the bottom of the gorge Cynddylig made for one such spot.

They camped and prepared their evening meal quietly. September almost felt afraid to disturb the intimidating atmosphere of the gorge with their reverberating voices. When the Mordeyrn called, he was relieved that they had experienced an uneventful day but he sympathised with her feeling of unease in the deep canyon.

“Hafn Afon Deheuol is a mysterious place,” he agreed, “Few birds can find a secure perch on its smooth vertical walls and the river in flood scours the sides of the gorge of all vegetation. But you approach the end of your journey by water, and Dwytrefrhaedr has a very different atmosphere.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing people again.” As she spoke the words September saw again the crowd of evil-maddened people at Glanyrafon and Tudfwlch with the same red staring eyes. It was good, happy people she hoped to meet, not more of those invaded by the Malevolence.