Author's note
A slightly different kind of chapter, so I beg your patience: its role will become apparent later on. Translations of the Old English can be found at the end of the chapter (though, not knowing anything about OE, I expect there are quite a lot of mistakes).


Chapter Four: Memories
The dawn broke quietly, red fingers creeping into the sky behind me as I stood and looked down on the village. I could ill afford the time, but this was home, and I didn't know when I would see it again. Not far away stood the little house where I had been born and raised and I couldn't help but smile. My parents had been so proud when Aneirin had come during my twelfth summer and offered to take me on as his apprentice. Aneirin, who was held in such high regard, offering to take me!

'But I have no skill as a healer,' I had squeaked, overawed by his suggestion and already frightened of failing him.

'You have not asked me, but I you,' he replied gently. 'I see more in you than you can see in yourself. I am not wrong. All I ask is that you believe me.'

I turned to look at my father and mother, both smiling at me. They believed Aneirin already. Perhaps, it occurred to me later, they had already been able to see what he saw.

'But what if I- if I-'

'Fall short? Fail? You will. We all do. I'm not asking you to be perfect, only to learn from me and help me as best you can.'

'Will I- will I have- to leave?'

'For a while,' Aneirin replied. 'You will travel with me.'

My heart rose. 'Always with you?'

'Always.'

'So I'll see mother and father often?' For Aneirin came here at least once a month. He seemed to have a knack for turning up just when he was needed.

He smiled. 'Very often.'

'Then yes - yes! I would very much like to be your apprentice! Please.'

I didn't realize until years later just how unusual what had happened was. It was rare for any of the boys in the village to be taken on as anyone's apprentice; even more rare for someone to ask to take one of us on. It was absolutely unheard of for the boy in question to actually be involved in making the decision - what would he know of his best, or his family's best, after all? Yet my parents had put the choice in my hands, confident, I think, of their only child's answer but trusting me to decide nonetheless.

The greatest surprise came some months later when we were in the village of Brynna attending to an elderly lady who had broken her arm and the door suddenly banged open as one of the village elders came rushing in.

'Aneirin! Bandits! They've been seen in the next valley on the western trail!'

I didn't understand. I had thought at first that the man had come to warn us, for the trail led straight through the village, but he seemed to expect my master - a healer, not a warrior - to do something.

'Master, why-'

'Hush, lad, and come with me.'

He strode out of the door and into the centre of the village, and I ran to keep up with him, now truly scared. Why weren't we leaving the village to hide in the woods? There was no way the villagers would be able to defend themselves. It wouldn't be long before the bandits were here, and- but at that moment, Aneirin drew me in front of himself, my back to his chest, hands on my shoulders.

'Ic bené gesweorc,' he spoke calmly and clearly.

A power shuddered down my spine and I now understood why the elder had come to my master. His hands remained on my shoulders and I felt the air suddenly grow chill as a mist began to gather swiftly and spread throughout the village.

'The mist will fill the vale,' said Aneirin to the assembled villagers, 'but sound will travel more clearly in it. We must keep absolutely silent.'


In the end, the bandits never came to the village. Some of the villagers, sent out as scouts, reported that the men had opted to skirt the lip of the valley on seeing that it was not safe to travel and that they themselves could easily become targets of an ambush. They travelled north and left Brynna untroubled.

Sitting in a quiet corner of the tavern that night, I decided to broach the question that had been on my mind since the afternoon.

'Master.'

Aneirin looked at me.

'This afternoon, in the village square, when you summoned the mist, I felt it. I mean, I felt the power go out of you. Is that… normal?'

He smiled. 'What you felt was not my power,' he replied.

'What was it, then?'

'Yours.'

I sat in stunned silence. Mine?

'Mouth,' he said gently.

'What?'

'Your mouth. It's hanging open.'

'Oh.' I shut it abruptly. Then I opened it. 'You mean I can do magic?'

'No. Magical ability inheres in everyone, to some extent, but no one is able to actually use magic without being taught. That includes you. But some people find it easier to use, have more of a natural affinity for it.'

'And I have that aff-in-ity?'

'Affinity. Yes. You have a certain sort of closeness to magic, a way of thinking and feeling, that means that it would come more easily to you.'

'How did you know?'

'I wasn't certain until now, but I have kept an eye on you ever since your mother gave birth to you. There had been always been something about you that made the power in me respond. Now that I know, I also know what the nature of your apprenticeship will be.'

I looked at him inquiringly.

'Had you shown no such affinity, I would simply have taught you the healing skills. You have already shown yourself able in the few months that you have been with me, and if you apply yourself, then you will become an accomplished healer in your own right. But it seems to me that we should also include some education in matters of magic.'

I could barely believe my ears.


When my apprenticeship was over, I had returned to Underwood, there to marry Iseult, the girl I had shyly watched whenever we had visited. We were happy. As Aneirin had predicted, I became a skilled healer, but magic came to me less easily than I had hoped. I could not master the weather manipulation spells he had tried to teach me, nor the spells that moved larger objects. Still, healing spells came to me more naturally and I was content with that, for it gave me pleasure to improve another's life. I chose to stay in the village, travelling only if a summons came to me, and divided the time given to me between farming and the healer's art.

I worried, on my return, that my parents would feel let down. They had known that Aneirin saw magical ability in me. Perhaps they had hoped that I would be capable of more. Perhaps I should have applied myself more. Yet if they did feel let down, they didn't show it, and I remember clearly how, on the day my mother died, my father held me tight and told me that I had been her pride and joy, and that I would remain his for so long as he lived. If that alone had been his legacy to me, my son would have plenty to be grateful for, for I felt the same towards him.


I walked through the village towards my home and quietly let myself in. Iseult lay on her side in the bed in the corner, curled into herself a little. I pulled up a chair and sat next to her, watching her face and the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders under the blanket.

'Iseult,' I said quietly and brushed over her soft brown hair. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. Her mouth broke into a smile - the same beautiful smile that captivated me every time I saw it.

'You're back,' she breathed, eyes shining. Then, 'You've been gone all night?'

I nodded. 'And I have to go again.'

'Why? You said the illness didn't sound bad when they came to get you.'

I swallowed. 'It wasn't.'

'But?'

'Iseult…'

She sat up sharply. 'Something's wrong.' She had always been able to read me. 'What is it?'

'There was a patrol in the tavern at the village.'

'No,' she whispered. 'You didn't-'

'No, I didn't,' I replied quickly. 'But I think someone told them that there's a healer in the next village along and that he sometimes uses… unconventional means.'

'Why?' she cried out. 'Why would anyone do that? Uther's been hell-bent on weeding out every trace of anyone with even a hint of magic this last year. They know that in Warren as well as anyone! Do they want to lose their healer?'

'Hush,' I said, looking over to the cot where little Drustan lay. 'I don't know why. Perhaps someone had had too much to drink. Anyway, it's not safe here for me, and so long as I'm here, it's not safe for you, either.'

'Where will you go?'

'It wasn't a large patrol. I shouldn't have to go far. If all goes well, I'll only need to keep out of their way for a few days - you know that the law is enforced less rigorously near the border. But if they ask you where I am, tell them that I've gone to Fairbourne. It's close enough that it might seem reasonable that I would go, but far enough away to put them off following me. I'll come back as soon as I'm able.'

Iseult looked at me unhappily, but she knew what Uther's men would do to me if they found me. I kissed her slowly, savouring the moment as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

'I love you more than I understand,' I whispered, leaning into her.

'I love you, too,' she whispered back. 'Don't be gone for long. I need you.'

'I couldn't live without you. I'll be back soon.'

We both rose, and I walked over to Drustan's cot, kissing him on the forehead, before turning to the door. As I stepped outside, I looked back at Iseult. For the first time in my life, I was truly frightened of the future. I tried to smile as I waved to her.

I don't think she was any more persuaded than I was.


'Really, what's the point? He's just a healer. We don't even know that he has magic for sure. And even if he does, so what? No one has a bad word to say about the man.'

'Listen. I've had it made clear to me, in no uncertain terms, that if word gets back to the king that there have been reports of sorcerers which weren't properly followed up, he wants to meet the people responsible. In these parts, that's me, first and foremost. I'm not interested in meeting his majesty under those circumstances. We're finding this man.'

'But we're going to have to go all the way to wretched Fairbourne to find him. That's three days' travel. It'll be a waste of time.'

'Easy for you to say. Your neck isn't on the line. We're going after him.'

I had heard enough, and quietly crept away from the patrol. So much for my hope that they would leave us in peace. When I saw them strike north after speaking with Iseult and some of the other villagers, I knew that something was wrong. Now I knew what. Uther's persecution of magic-users had begun about a year ago. Rumour had it that hundreds had been brought in for questioning around Camelot, and that many had not been heard from since, but rumour was an unreliable source at the best of times. Now I began to suspect that there might be truth in it, however. The soldiers who formed the patrol were battle-hardened men, but they took little interest in local affairs, being more concerned with securing the borders. For them to be willing to spend three days travelling to find me spoke of a quite serious change in priorities.

I found myself in a dilemma. When they got to Fairbourne, they'd discover not only that I wasn't there, but that no one there had sent for me - and that would send the soldiers straight back to Iseult. I had been lucky, on reflection, that they hadn't simply chosen to wait for me to come home. The only option I could see was to get ahead of them, pass through Fairbourne so that they didn't accuse Iseult of lying to them and then move on from there and try to keep them following me as I led them away from home. Perhaps, in the end, they'd give up.


The plan had started off well enough. While the patrol slept, I pushed on ahead, and made it to Fairbourne the best part of a day before them. Even as I arrived, an old lady, her gait speaking of her rheumatism, came shuffling up to me and clasped my arm.

'Oh - oh, I never thought you'd get here so quickly! We only sent word yesterday!'

'I was coming here anyway. Why, Enid, what's the matter?'

'It's Cynan. He's- fallen ill.' Her voice caught as she continued, 'He can't speak or move.'

I followed old Enid into the hut that she and her husband Cynan called home. The old man lay in the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling.

'Cynan?' I asked softly. The old man's mouth opened a fraction, but I received only a quiet gasp in reply. As I approached him, I could see that his body was trembling all over and covered in sweat, and the heat was fairly radiating off him.

'Do you- do you know what's wrong with him?'

'Not yet. First thing is to get him cooled down.' I glanced around the room and spied a bucket standing in the corner. 'I'll get some water from the well. Can you find some cloths to wash him with, please?'

As I ran out to the well, I caught sight of the neighbours' son.

'Nudd!' The young boy in question spun around, his face lighting up in a grin when he saw me. 'I need your help!' He nodded and ran after me into the hut. As Enid took the water and began to wash Cynan, I turned to Nudd.

'I need you to go into the woods and gather some skullcap for me. You remember what that looks like?'

'Purple flower?'

'That's the one. Bring me a couple of hands full. On your way back, ask your mother to brew a tea with it as quickly as possible, and then bring it back to Enid here for her to give to Cynan. You'll have to run.'

Nudd disappeared out of the door, and I sat down next to Cynan and gently laid my hands on his chest. His spirit was barely present. I closed my eyes.

'Ic æfterfolge,' I whispered, and found myself in darkness.


I stood in a dark, grey land, the sky above as grey as the dead stone beneath my feet. Turning, I saw no break in the landscape: all was flat, dull, lifeless, stretching off into the distance as far as the eye could see.

'Ætíeþ Cynan!' I commanded, and a pale light was suddenly revealed some way off from me and moving away from me quickly. I set off after it, running as fast as I could. I soon saw that the light was in the shape of a man, but the limbs didn't move; rather, the light floated barely above the surface of the ground.

'Cynan!' I cried out, but the light continued to move. 'Gede!' The light slowed, and turned to face me.

'Cynan,' I spoke softly. 'Where are you going?'

'Home,' a voice replied.

'Will you not return with me?'

The form shifted. Its shape was unstable, as if the light was perpetually flowing downwards through some hole that had been cut into the air, its hue varying subtly as it did so.

'My time has come. It is right that I go now.' I recognized Cynan's voice, yet it was strangely different, sharper in tone than I recalled.

'And yet I perceive that the choice has been given to you, for else I would not have been able to call you to a halt. So I ask you again, will you not return with me?'

'For what? What has your world to offer me? You are young. You do not understand the longing of the soul for its true home. Not yet. But your time will come. You will know what it is to be weary, to long for your soul's release and to rejoice at the prospect. You would not ask what you ask of me if you knew that already.'

'Maybe. Yet I understand the love that a man has for his wife.'

The light continued to flow.

'Enid waits for you. Even now, she tends to your body, hoping against hope that you will return. Will you not return with me?'

Slowly, the light moved towards me; then it enveloped me, and all went white.


When I awoke, I found myself on the floor, a pillow under my head. From somewhere towards my feet came the sound of someone stirring something, and the smell of stew wafted through the little hut. I sat up slowly.

'You're awake!' Enid smiled.

'Cynan?' I asked.

'Calmed down some time after you… did whatever you did. He's asleep now, but breathing normally. You've given him back to me.'

'No,' I said. 'He loves you. He came back for you.'

I stood up and opened the door. The sun was setting outside. I must have been out for most of the day - time I could ill afford to lose.

'Enid, I would love to stay, but I must leave. I have others I must see to, in- in Efailwen.'

'But that's days from here, all the way out by Meredor. You must be tired. Won't you at least eat? And you're welcome to stay the night, though we have little to offer by way of a bed. But Eva next door-'

'Thank you, Enid, but I must go, now. I've already been here longer than I intended, and it's urgent.'

Without waiting to hear her reply, I stepped outside and saw the torches of the approaching soldiers. I ran.


I ran straight into the woods as a cry behind me told me that I had been seen. My only thought was to keep ahead of them until the fading twilight gave way to full darkness and safety. As I dodged between the trees, I headed straight for where I thought the setting sun lay, knowing that a path ran parallel to the the line I had chosen some way off to my right. If the soldiers didn't know about it, then I might be able to find the path later and make some headway that night.

There followed two nights and days of a waking nightmare. I knew little of how to conceal my trail, and every time I thought I had lost them, the soldiers soon made their presence known. What hopes I had of gaining a head start over them on the first night were soon dashed: they knew the woods and did not settle down for the night as I had expected. Instead, even as I made my way step by painfully slow step through briars, mud, thickets of thorn bushes and the outliers of a forest bog, some of the soldiers hounded west along the path while the others followed behind me.

So it was that on the second day, clothes sodden and torn, body bruised and bleeding, I stumbled towards the edge of the woods and the grasslands of Meredor - and barely caught myself as I saw them waiting there for me. I had a blinding headache and dark spots danced before me, obscuring my vision. I had run out of water on the second night. I sank to my knees and all but gave up when I saw them standing there on the plain, and I would not have continued for my own sake. All that drove me now was the thought that I could not leave Iseult and Drustan alone in the world.

Skirting along the edge of the woods, trying to keep out of sight, I found a little grassy hollow bathed in sunlight. Suddenly a bird sang out, a happy, carefree sound, and I stopped, glancing up. To one side of the hollow stood a great birch tree, and in it sat a song thrush. Even as I watched, he opened his beak and the same joyful song trilled out, answered from across the other side of the hollow by his companion. It was strange, this place. It was almost as if it held in itself the promise of peace.

It was then that I saw the entrance to the tunnel.

My mother had told me stories about the tunnels of Meredor when I was a little boy: the great, endless labyrinths below the ground, haunted by those who had been foolish enough to enter them and had never found their way out. Told on a dark night, those stories had power, but their hold melted in the bright sunlight. Besides, with soldiers behind and in front of me, it was only a matter of time before I was caught and so I thrust any lingering misgivings aside, crossed the little dell and stepped into the darkness.

It was cool inside, and as I took a few steps down the tunnel I could hear the sound of running water; an underground river, perhaps? Groping along the walls and following the sound, I soon found the source. A small stream crossed the floor of the tunnel in front of me, and I crouched down on my knees and put my hand in it. The water was cool, and I plunged my head into it. Oh, the bliss! As I pulled my head out, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. I drank, slowly but deeply, and felt my body respond with a giddy delight. This was better than any wine I had ever drunk, and I had to force myself to remember that danger was not far behind. I quickly filled up my water skin and stood up.

'Léoht,' I whispered and a small light grew in my hand as I walked briskly down the passageway.


I don't know how far I had walked. It felt as if it had been miles. Perhaps it had. Occasionally I heard distant voices from somewhere behind me, but I tried not to worry too much. After all, it was always likely that I would be followed, and my hope now lay in losing them down here. Eventually I emerged into a large cavern, and following the wall around to the right, found another tunnel. My mother's warnings sprang back into my mind unbidden, but I reasoned that I could simply take every first right turn I came across, which should allow me to find my way back out. All I would need to do then would be to wait until the soldiers gave up.

As I stepped into the new tunnel, I shivered. There was something about this place - something I couldn't quite put my finger on. A draught had accompanied me ever since I had set foot in the tunnels, but the air here was still and dry. It felt heavy, like the air under a warm, thick blanket - and ancient, as if it had sat here unmoved for centuries. Without intending to, I found that I had stopped walking. I stood and listened. Not a sound. Nothing. I took a couple of steps forward and faltered. Even my footsteps sound muffled.

A tiny flicker from the light in the palm of my hand grabbed my attention. The little werelight briefly shrank and then sprang back to size, as if blown by a wind in this windless place. Strange. And it illuminated so little. My hand and forearm were bathed in its gentle glow, but the walls - I reached out to touch them - reflected nothing at all until the light was right next to them. It was as if the very darkness itself was denser here.

Then, at the very edge of my hearing, the softest susurration. I tensed, listening as hard as I could. It was almost as if- no, it had gone again. I shook my head. My mother's stories must have had more of a hold on me than I'd realized. It had sounded, for just the briefest fraction of time, as if someone was whispering. But there was no one but me here.

I took two steps forward, and halted. There it was again. As I stood, straining to hear, a dread began to creep up my spine.

'Who's there?' I cried out, spinning around with my hand held before me, but there was no one.

I had no sooner made up my mind that I needed to get out of this tunnel and back into the cavern than the soft whispering returned. It was now undeniable. There was someone or something in the tunnel with me.

I took a few steps - five, ten. How far could it be? I had only just entered. Fifteen. The whispering became louder and more urgent. It seemed to be coming from somewhere below me. But that made no sense - the ground was solid rock.

Twenty steps. A man's voice. And then, as suddenly as the first whispers had come, they were joined by tens - no, hundreds of voices, rising up from the ground, swirling all around me, hissing in my ears. I broke into a run. I didn't care if the soldiers were waiting for me. I couldn't, I wouldn't stay in this place. Uther could only kill my body. These voices - they felt as if they could take hold of my soul.

'Listen,' they hissed. 'Listen.'

The light in my hand flickered and dimmed.

'Léoht!' I cried out, and poured all my power into the little werelight. It leapt up again and the voices hissed and pulled back from me. At the edge of the light I suddenly beheld the movement of dark shapes - shadows without substance in the shape of men who could not penetrate the little circle of light. On I ran, the voices still all around me but their whispers now indistinct, held back by the light. My heart was pounding. I didn't know where I was going. The tunnel no longer led out to the cavern. All I knew was that if I didn't get out now, I never would.

Ahead of me I saw a blue-ish light. Whether it was a good sign or not I didn't know, but it didn't matter. The dread of the voices and what they might do to me now filled all my being, and I ran on. Even as I approached the light, the whispering around me mercifully died away. I was safe.


I stepped out of the tunnel into another world. The all-consuming darkness gave way as a gentle blue light washed over me, to be broken and thrown back endlessly by a thousand million crystal facets. The light leapt up, up, and I saw a great vaulted ceiling high above me. Impossibly tall columns strode down the sides of the great hall, their capitals ornately decorated with carved leaves, their shafts intricately fashioned.

I stared in awe. Never had I beheld such beauty. Everything in the hall had been hewn out of living crystal. As my eyes followed the march of the columns, it was drawn to the far end of the hall - and there I beheld a mighty throne upon a dais. The back of the throne rose ten feet high and its arms had been so cunningly made that as the light flowed down them, they looked as if they were made of running water. Graven into the back of the throne was a great crown whose arches resembled nothing so much as mountain peaks.

As I slowly stepped forward, I saw that the carvings on the columns depicted all manner of scenes. In one, a man overthrew a great bear. In another, he wrestled with a star. In still another, he led a great multitude into a city. I realized that the man was the same one in all the carvings, for he always wore the great mountain-crown. I was in the court of a king.

Then, the king spoke.


'So, little sorcerer. You have entered my domain, uninvited and unlooked for. And do you think that you shall escape it? You assuredly shall not.'

Every word was like the the slamming down of a great hammer upon the anvil of my mind. It struck me to the core, and I fought to maintain consciousness.

'You have defied my servants, but do not imagine that your little light will provide you with defence against me.'

Even as he spoke the words, I felt what small strength remained drain from me and the little werelight vanished as I fell to my knees, clutching my head, willing the voice to stop.

'Here you shall stay, and you shall listen to my tale, as have all who have come before you. And I shall claim your little power for my own, and add it to mine, and you too shall serve me.'

'No,' I whispered, and the king laughed - a dreadful sound that echoed around my mind.

'You are mine. Your power, your heart, your mind.'

Remembering Aneirin's teachings, I retreated into myself and threw all my strength into protecting the walls of my mind just as a power began to batter against them. I cut myself off from my surroundings. Desperate to block out the king's voice which seemed to sap the energy from me, I tried to think of something, anything else.

Then suddenly I saw her in my mind's eye. Iseult. Oh, Iseult. My heart grew strong as I thought of her. Her smile, more beautiful, more life-giving than any other. Her eyes which carried such wisdom and a tenderness that I had hidden myself in so often. I gave myself over to dwelling upon her, and the memories of a life shared. As I did so, I felt the strength in me rise and the power that raged against me seemed to lose its ferocity. I breathed deeply, and my heart calmed. I opened my eyes and stood.

'You shall not have me,' I declared.

But the king laughed again.

'I see your thoughts,' he said. 'Do you really think that you can escape from this place, even if you will not succumb? The tunnels are under my command, and they will not yield to let you out. And then what will your precious Iseult do? Do you truly believe that she will wait for you forever? She has a son. What woman will wait when the absence of a husband leaves her without the law and fair game for all? What woman will not seek to protect her son? What woman will raise her son without a father? Fool. She will not wait for you. Even now she turns to another.'

And in my mind's eye, though I did not want to believe a word I heard, I suddenly beheld Iseult in the arms of another man, smiling contentedly. 'No!' I cried out. 'No, Iseult!' But the image would not leave me, and my heart was torn in two, and the will to fight left me. 'No!'

'Now,' spoke the king. 'You will listen.'

Everything went black.


Ic bené gesweorc - I summon the mist
Ic æfterfolge - I follow
Ætíeþ Cynan - Reveal Cynan
Gede - Halt
Léoht - Light