Tuesday 10 November 2009

Cymru - Chapter 24

AERONA

The Union was more like the Archipelago than just in appearance; in content it could easily rival a City in order to cater for the people who lived and trained in it. Most of the important crafts trained their highest apprentices there, metal workers and blacksmiths and leather crafters and druidic healers, and so accordingly there were levels that contained shops and taverns and restaurants. The result was that, as Aerona moved happily up the Spiral Stairs to the Shrine, she finally started to feel genuinely at home among the bustle of people moving about between their jobs and recreational areas of choice for the night, happy and angry and tired and everything in between. A tailor nodded amiably to her in passing; a blacksmith joked merrily with her about the climb up the stairs; three blue-rank druids smiled as she passed their floor. It was all perfectly lovely, in Aerona’s opinion. Everyone was so nice, and pleasant, even amid the ever-present background tension for the up-coming Archwiliad. She almost wished she’d brought the children, although admittedly, she’d have needed a lead for Siona.

After what Aerona’s legs assured her was twenty years’ worth of climbing more Stairs finally stopped appearing above her head and the Shrine opened out, filtering the light down in reds and greens and golds. The central column produced branches that swept out in great arcs around her as she gratefully reached the top step, several forming archways along the wide flag-stoned path that led away from her and up to the pool set beneath the centre of the glass ceiling in front of the statue. Aerona loved the statue. It was woven out of willow and alder and assorted pieces of drift wood, into the form of a great meraden, wings flung out to either side as it reared up. Reverentially, Aerona moved forward to the pool.

“Good evening, Rider,” a voice said gently. A white-robed druid fell into step beside her, frail and thin. He was incredibly old beneath his hood, Aerona noticed; the hair she could see was pure white and wispy, and this shoulders were thin and bowed. He smiled at her as she turned, skin pale enough to be almost translucent around kind eyes. She bowed.

“Good evening, Derwydd,” Aerona returned happily, and offered him an arm that he gratefully took. “I wasn’t sure anyone would be here by now.”

“I shouldn’t be,” the druid smiled, his eyes doing that charming twinkly thing that venerable old people did. Aerona was rather looking forward to being old, if for no other reason than having twinkly eyes. “I imagine there is work to be done before the Archwiliad. But I’m an old man who gets tired, while Rhiannon never sleeps.” He smiled. “And this, to my more religious viewpoint, is the more important work, Rider. Does your mind need purifying?”

“Well, it could always do with a bit of a wipe,” Aerona said. The druid chuckled. “But I’m a Tutor. Usually the worst things I see are where six-year-old boys put their hands without washing.”

“Harrowing indeed,” the druid smiled. They reached the pool and Aerona helped him sit on the marbled edge, where he shifted his robes and nodded contentedly. “But, if I may; you’ve fought recently?”

A flash of the Saxons on the border came to her, the children’s faces in the airbus windows, the Saxons’ faces as her knives slid into their throats. She sighed.

“Yes,” she said sadly. “Yes, you’re right. It’s been a busy day or so, I can barely even remember if it was today or yesterday.”

“Come.” He held up his arms to her, gesturing to the poolside with withered hands. “The fault is not yours, Rider. Let us purify you.”

“Thank you.” She knelt down at the pool’s edge, watching the enamelled mosaic beneath the water as it swirled in the light, the spiralling, shimmering colours already nagging at her mind and demanding her attention. She felt the druid’s kind hands brush her shoulders, and let herself relax. The purification ritual, she thought, suddenly feeling peaceful. She liked this one. It was lovely.

“Watch the water,” the druid whispered, soothingly. The gentle tinkling of water on water played in Aerona’s ears as the colours played in her eyes, snatching her concentration away. The patterns they made were so beautiful, she thought dreamily. They danced and swirled before her, laughing and pulling at her to open up, and she so wanted to, so wanted to dance with them but she couldn’t; her hands were stained and filthy and she wasn’t clean, wasn’t pure enough to blend…

Dimly Aerona was aware of fingers gently but firmly fastening about her wrists, moving them down to the pool, and she watched the process in mute horror. She couldn’t touch it! It was so beautiful, so sublime, the dance of greens and blues and golds whirling beneath her fingertips, her skin almost black with the blood that coated and polluted them, but she couldn’t pull away, couldn’t make her body obey her. The water closed about her hands in an icy grip that bit to the bone and suddenly, the patterns around her bled to reds that roared and churned and twisted in a frenzy of change and the meraden above her seemed to move, suddenly, its wings spreading wide –

- and the pool flowed back to blue and green, the patterns spinning merrily around her hands as they accepted her and washed away the blood in her mind. A thick, peaceful calm settled on Aerona like a quilt, completely suffusing her senses and leaving her contentedly detached. Everything was lovely and good and pleasant. There was no urgency, no worry. Slowly her eyes closed, sleep drawing her close in feathered arms.

“Awaken, Rider,” the druid’s voice instructed softly. Aerona blinked, her mind springing free and looked down. The pool was simply a pool. She smiled at the echo of the warm, peaceful feeling, and wondered, as she always did, why there seemed to be tears on her cheeks.

“Thank you!” Aerona repeated happily, drawing her hands back out of the water and rubbing them on the cloth the druid handed her. “I really enjoyed that. I should do it at bedtime one day, and get someone to just carry me away.”

The druid smiled. “That would be terribly indulgent,” he said. “I’ve done it many times. It is a good tonic for old bones. And now; I presume you came to pray?”

“Oh, yes,” Aerona nodded. “Do you know, I almost forgot? Now I’ll have to actually do some work, I suppose.”

The praying was, in its own way, more relaxing than the ritual had been, although the lingering feeling of calm, happy peace clung to her still and so probably was a factor. But Aerona enjoyed praying in the Great Shrine anyway; normally temples and such were set on the ground, meaning the ambulatory around the central shrine, although partially open to the world outside still, had far less of an effect than the one twenty storeys over a mountaintop. Up here, it was almost like flying; the gathering wind swept in ahead of the rain clouds to the west, swiftly working cold fingers inside her uniform and chilling her skin as she threw the handfuls of herbs outwards. The metallic smell of rain mingled with the fresh, sweet scent of evening, and below her Cymru stretched out in all directions beneath a darkening sky. It felt like genuinely joining with the world around her, merging her spirit with the gods.

Aerona sighed as the last handful of thyme and hazelnuts danced away on the wind and smiled. They’d find Owain. They would. There would be plenty in the Archives to go on, and Awen would find out about Flyn, and Dylan would pull together whatever else was needed from whichever other Sovereigns were necessary and, if they were really lucky, that delightful system that Lord Gwilym’s father had invented with Lady Marged would go ahead and everything would be splendid.

She almost skipped down the Spiral Stairs.

********

It was a strange experience, going down as far as the Archives. For one thing, she was going so far down that Aerona had gone past the Detention and Interrogation Area, which was almost always kept at the bottom of any City or Residence that Aerona had ever heard of. For another, an awful lot of Guard Riders suddenly appeared at each floor, checking her permit before letting her descend to the next. And that was just surreal; most of them had no idea what they were guarding from her, while Aerona knew very well.

This far down she was into the Union’s foundations, cellars so deep it was impossible to tunnel into them. The walls were lined with enclosed oil lamps on the Stairs, although inside the Archives fire was normally strictly forbidden; they were lit solely with sun-pipes, long ceramic pipes that ran from the nearest roof-tops and were lined with a complicated system of small angled mirrors to beam the sunlight from the outside to the inside. Since it was night-time, though, or about to be, Aerona was going to have to break the rules. Sun-pipes only worked during the day. And these were safety lamps, it would be difficult for her to commence a career in arson with one unless she was really motivated.

Finally the Stairs stopped winding down into the earth, and Aerona stepped off the last intricate stone-and-marble beam and onto the bare earthen floor, her foot-falls instantly muffling. Around her stood a series of plain and unremarkable wooden doors set into the circular wall, scrubbed clean but unadorned. Each was labelled with a small bronze plaque, and Aerona ran her eye across them; “Sewer Entrance” and “Main Furnace” she ignored and looked instead across Storerooms A, B, G, D and E. Four were genuine. One was not.

A pair of Guard Riders sat at a table to the side of the Stairs, and Aerona smiled as brightly at them as she could. She got the feeling she was starting to look manic, but it was habit. She liked being excessively friendly to strangers. It made them inclined to do the same. And it seemed to pay off now; one, a short red-headed girl with a few fingers missing, looked up and smiled warmly back, although an exchange of glances at each other’s beads confirmed Secret Club Membership.

“Good evening, Rider!” the girl said merrily. Her accent implied Southlander, but Aerona couldn’t pinpoint where. “Or I think it’s evening by now, anyway. Permit and destination?”

“Storeroom Delta, please,” Aerona grinned, showing the permit. “And yes, it’s evening. Long shift?”

“Not awful.” The girl pulled a face as she pulled out a keyring. “We do two shifts a day at four hours each, to stay fresh, which is great for not getting bored, but I hate being away from windows. Makes me edgy.”

“I can imagine,” Aerona nodded sympathetically as the door was duly unlocked and a safety lamp handed to her. “I’m the same if I’m away from the sea for too long, actually. I’m told it’s just Archipelagan fussing, though. Mostly by cruel people.”

The Guard Rider laughed, and slid the door open.

“Happy hunting,” she said, and Aerona stepped reverentially through into the Archives.

They were vast. The ceilings seemed impossibly high, a good three storeys above where they should have been, and supported by pillars that looked suspiciously like the roots of the Spiral Stairs’ central tree-column. Here and there was the occasional desk; during the day there could be anywhere between three and fifteen Riders working at them, copying and cataloguing every report, memo, letter, list, log and receipt the Intelligencers could lay their hands on and submit, up and down the country, and sorting them into the different files and folders necessary. It was probably the single biggest secretarial undertaking in the entire world, and therefore Aerona often wistfully felt that it was a shame it was completely secret. Especially since the sheer amount of paper, parchment and bark tablets amassed like it did. The enormous caverns of the Archives were completely filled with it, all neatly filed away into the incredibly tall ladder-mounted bookcase-like contraptions that marched away into the darkness, lines and rows and beacons of order. It smelled of paper. It was cold.

Fortunately, thoughtful Riders had considered that visitors might not have remembered the temperature considerations of the Archives, and a long stand of fur coats stood to one side of the door. Gratefully Aerona slipped one off its hanger – bearskin by the feel of it – and pulled it on. It was heavy, but warm. She took a moment to adjust it comfortably, and then moved on.

Even more fortunately, there were handy maps on each desk. They were even more vital than the coats. The Archives also contained files on everyone deemed to be ‘Of Interest’, whether they had true political power or not, and in many cases whether they were still alive or not. Navigation was important.

Aerona scanned the key beside the map by the light of her lamp. The Casnewydd Wings were far and away her best bet, since every single tiny mention of Owain by everyone who’d ever thought to mention him would be in his file. She checked the number of rows and turnings she’d have to make, suppressed a groan at the distance, and set off.

It took around six minutes of walking, but rather proudly Aerona only got lost once. Eventually she reached the right area, and then had to consult a further more detailed map to find the current active Wings, and then a list of Wing designation names. Another minute brought her to two full rows of the incredibly tall shelves, the plaque nailed to them reading ‘Masarnen’. Halfway down she finally found Owain’s ‘file.’

Naturally, it was somewhat more than a mere file. Sighing, Aerona slid the ladder into place, climbed to the top and pulled down the first box. Hopefully, she thought, the comfy-looking chair by the nearby desk would live up to its appearance, because she had a lot to get through.

The lamp flickered in the cold as Aerona settled down to read.

******

Diary Entry of Lady Marged of Caerleuad, 16th D 7thM 876. (excerpt)

I love Riders!! Especially ones who aren’t mine. Oh, obviously I love mine – Mair’s brilliant, so she is, although it’s such a shame about that bard, poor dear – but when you get to meet others it’s all special. They’re different, see, especially the ones from the mainland, because that’s not the same as the Archipelago. Oh, dear. I think I’m drunk!

Flyn’s not. I don’t think he bothers much. He’s ever so good at faking being happy and casual that one, but it’s all scheming, so he doesn’t do drunk. He’s not that fun. His Wing, though! Lovely. Well, partly. Well, no, mostly, actually. The big one – Caradog? – he’s excellent fun! Very big, mind, unfair advantage when drinking, and Riders and drinking and that, but they knew so many games for it and he led them. Brilliant! And the girl with the bird! She let me hold it and fly it! It came back to my wrist! I’m so excited! And their leader is great. A bard, lovely voice. But their Deputy is awful, simply dreadful.

Oh, I’m doing this wrong. Hello, diary. Yes; Flyn arrived, and was all snooty and strange, although that’s quite normal. He didn’t like my cat. Anyway; we went off to do the political discussion bit, and Flyn was – well, normal Flyn, you know, all attentive and polite on the surface and carefully barbed comments – and then the Casnewydd Leader, Awen, came to stand in to make sure we weren’t trying to do something illegal, you know, as she’s supposed to, and Flyn got all weird and possessive. He makes her kneel too long. Mair raised an eyebrow. I can always tell when she disapproves, she does that. Anyway. Then we had a party! Or ‘formal dinner’, although it wasn’t, so there. I’m very drunk, diary. Very very drunk.

Oh, yes, anyway, we all got dressed up, that was fun, I went and found the visiting Riders and got ready with them because I wanted to see if they were fun and they were and I flew a bird. And they were nice and lovely, and all looked good, all smart, did a lovely job on each other. But their Deputy was weird. They had banter, you know, it’s normal. They definitely included Awen, and she didn’t mind, but the Deputy boy did, if they said anything to him his face went all still and he looked like he was pretending not to be angry, and when he answered back he was more mean. And then he got that fisherman’s gel they put on their hair and slicked it back, without asking anyone to do it for him, and he looked like a tit, frankly, fringe like two slugs. Horrible. I told him he shouldn’t, since he can’t see himself, and he looked all angry, and then he started giving the others orders all the time. It was weird. They don’t like him, I think. I’m drunk. Anyway, he did this for a few minutes, and every order he gave the others would look at Awen, but she was doing that thing where you back each other up in public, and so kept quiet, and then she told him to go and check to see if he could find something in the bags they’d brought from Casnewydd, and then ten seconds later went after him, and then everyone looked all significant at each other. And then they came back and he wasn’t ordering anymore, and he kept looking at her funny. Strange look. I couldn’t work it out. Angry a bit, resentful like, but also like children look at puppies. Longing. Flyn looked at her funny, too, but he’s just weird.

Goodness I’m drunk! Anyway…



Marged was even crazy in her own diary entries. Aerona was trying hard not to giggle, given the seriousness of the situation. Well; it backed up Adara’s assessment of the Awen/Owain dynamic, anyway, and came from a rather less biased source. And there were others on the same theme, various witnesses who’d occasionally seen the Wing during their leisure time and recorded the bizarre animosity between them and their own Deputy. Interestingly, it seemed to have always been a feature of the Wing dynamic.


Rider Development Report
Tutor: Huw Onnen
Subjects: Masarnen Wing, leadership studies.
Age Group: Eight-year-olds.

The Masarnen Wing continues to show exceptional promise, with all members displaying at the very least the basic skill-sets and abilities to become an active Wing and most already being far above this level. The last report indicated five potential Leaders for the Wing, namely: Llyr, Meurig, Awen, Adara and Owain, with both Tanwen and Caradog being additional possible candidates for Deputy status. Unusually, considering the high number of extroverted personalities and naturally dominant tendencies, overall Wing interaction is good, all members seeming to bond well with others. However, occasional power struggles have started to surface, so it is my recommendation that trial leadership studies are advanced to as soon as possible. They all have great loyalty to one another; my feeling is that once they are given an individual to follow they will accept them, and all power struggles will cease.

As such, I am submitting my reviews and recommendations now. Even at this early stage, Awen, Llyr and Owain show exceptional aptitude for the role, both within social dynamics and the tactical scenarios the Wing has so far experienced. Awen in particular stands out: she has a natural gift for exploring and memorising her Wing-mates’ strengths and weaknesses, a gift she is fast honing into a formidable talent almost without any coaching from myself or any other Tutor. Furthermore, she shows tremendous skill at applying these strengths and weaknesses to tactical situations, and does so both diplomatically and effectively. She naturally possesses a manipulative streak which she uses to great effect and to the benefit of the whole Wing, never herself; it’s clear that if she wished she could fairly easily finesse her way into being in a leader role in any given situation, but she does not, favouring instead a slier approach that gets the job done without undermining others’ authority. Additionally, Awen has perfect understanding already of how to juggle morale and motivation, and can skilfully do so. Her Wing-mates naturally enjoy following her, a valuable asset for a leader. Her battle tactics thus far are promising.

Owain is my next choice. Like Awen he possesses a certain natural gift for manipulation, but unlike Awen he applies this entirely to tactical situations, and never to his Wing-mates. There are strengths and disadvantages to this approach. Certainly of all the Wing his tactical abilities have tested highest, and in almost every area; battle, recon and survival all being his strongest suits. I should stress that it’s still early stages for combat skills, but nonetheless Owain is naturally gifted with projectile weapons, the crossbow in particular, and is very good at thinking on his feet during hand-to-hand combat. He is very strong at gauging his Wing-mates’ physical talents and utilising them effectively, much like Awen; but, unlike Awen, he lacks a proper understanding of their mental and emotional abilities. He has an overly-strong tendency to assume that everyone thinks like him but less intelligently, the result of which being that he is frequently prone to misinterpretation. This can lead to a degree of friction between him and others in the Wing. This is the main reason that I am recommending Awen’s candidacy over Owain’s; much though they are fairly evenly matched in all other respects, Awen’s sympathetic and adept handling of people means she effortlessly commands loyalty and likeability, whereas I get the feeling Owain will be hard-pressed to earn it.

Llyr is my third choice, since like Awen he is skilled at social interaction…



“He has an overly-strong tendency to assume that everyone thinks like him but less intelligently.” That, Aerona thought as she looked for the next report, was a deeply significant sentence, noting a deeply significant character flaw. Of course, little Owain Masarnen had been all of eight years when Huw Onnen had written those words, which gave him plenty of time to learn a bit about human nature, but it was very possible that this was an early indication of mild narcissism. It suggested he was naturally self-centred at the very least, and frankly that was unusual in Riders of any age. Even eight.


Rider Development Report
Tutor: Huw Onnen
Subjects: Masarnen Wing, leadership studies.
Age Group: Nine to Ten-year-olds.

I am pleased to report enormous success within the Masarnen Wing; as hoped, almost all power struggles have ceased, and the overall Wing dynamic is one of increasingly strong cohesion. Awen has occupied the Leader role since the start of the trials, and although unusual my recommendation is for her to stay there; authority and responsibility fit her better than her own skin, and both she and the whole Wing have gone from strength to strength with her at the head. I remain fully confident of Masarnen Wing’s eventual ascension to active status.

There are still several possibilities for the Deputy candidacy, however. Llyr would be valuable as a second in command, since his diplomatic prowess is still rivalled only by Awen’s, but it must be said that his tactical thinking suggests that he may ultimately prove unsuitable for command in a battle situation. Caradog seems to be the complete opposite, meanwhile; his battlefield prowess seems superb, but his conversational skills are simple and direct, and I feel he may simply be too honest for the job. Adara would in all likelihood excel in the role, but she is not confident of her own leadership skills in the event that she needs to take over from Awen, which makes her an impractical choice. Owain’s tactical brilliance remains truly excellent, and by now has been bolstered by additional traits: he has an edge of ruthless cunning that will be extremely valuable in a fighting Wing, one which, I might add, Awen is rather adept at exploiting. Their teamwork, in fact, is remarkably good considering the subjects are ten. These factors make me favour Owain as Deputy over the others.

In the interests of fairness I should note Owain’s weaknesses, however. He has become better at handling people, but I feel he is no better at truly understanding them, making his interactions a pale imitation of Awen’s. Of all of the Wing members, he is probably the single greatest source of friction. When not Deputy, he constantly seeks to undermine whoever is; when he is Deputy, he is prone to bouts of ‘flaunting authority’, where he seems to feel the need to impress himself upon the others. Interestingly, he never turns this upon Awen, a fact I attribute to her skills rather than his respect. It remains to be seen how this relationship will develop.

An additionally interesting point on this theme, in fact, and worthy of note, are the childrens' choices for their specialist areas. As perhaps we could have expected, many of them seem to be leaning towards some unusual choices; Adara, for example, has shown a wonderful aptitude with the falconers in the Residence, and is expanding this area by learning as many different methods of trapping as she possibly can. Opposing this is Meurig, who informs me that his dearest wish is to be 'competently accomplished in everything.' Awen looks set to be a bard, as music is a natural gift to her and one of very few pasttimes she'll actually try to partake in that isn't Rider-related. Naturally, the others enjoy listening to her. I suspect it's for this reason that Owain seems to be trying to follow the same course...



Rider Development Report
Tutor: Mererid Criafolen
Subjects: Masarnen Wing, Internal Wing Dynamics
Age Group: Fifteen
Overall the inter-personal relationships of the Wing are strong and appropriately positive, with no individual truly standing out. A weak link in this chain is Owain, however, or I should say a potential weak link. I feel his ascension to full-time Deputy status was the correct choice, as he and Awen make a formidable team in command, but his enjoyment of his authority over other Wing members is occasionally disconcerting; it may not be a cause for alarm yet, but it is a possible area for concern. He is, I would suggest, fractionally too self-aware as a Rider, and certainly I would prefer to see a little more humility, but thus far this is a tendency that is under control.
His popularity within the Wing is the lowest of all members, doubtless owing to his slight megalomania. Intriguingly, however, he isn’t actively disliked by anyone, probably owing to Awen’s influence. He is dependent on her for acceptance from the others, something that he seems to recognise on some level, since she alone is spared any power displays on his part. She rather intelligently maintains her dominance over him, reprimanding him only in private to spare his ego and never indulging in any relationship with him beyond the professional or fraternal. I suspect this final point bothers him, however; any further relationship with her is a goal beyond his reach, something which Owain will inherently therefore desire.
Evidence for this seems to lie in his clashes with specific Wing members, most notably Adara and Caradog; both Riders who are very close to Awen. This may need further observation.

On a side note, all members have now chosen their specialisms. Until very recently Owain was still attempting bardic status, but has now settled into the role of Medic. I can't help but wonder if this has more to do with power than preference; the others are now, in some extra way, dependent on him, and moreso than if he'd been the second of two bards.




Awen thought it was power as an Aphrodisiac, you know,” Aerona recalled. Well, it seemed she had been right. In fact, it seemed according to the official reports that Awen had rather capably had the measure of Owain, yet she hadn’t seen his defection coming. That was odd. And, the more Aerona read of Awen in the reports it became stranger still, since even at the tender age of – Aerona double checked the early RDR – eight, she’d been touted as an expert judge of character.

Remember that the watcher may be watched.

It was a fundamental rule taught to Intelligencers, right at the point they were taught to observe without giving away anything they didn’t want to. Awen was an expert judge of character. But she judged too much. She was an Intelligencer and an Alpha Wingleader, two incredibly demanding and important roles that she was required to combine, and this was in a border City that required constant fighting.

Ultimately her own Wing had proved too close for her to keep watching. She’d watched Owain, yes, but somewhere, in some way, he’d watched her back. He’d worked out how to get around her.

Aerona considered that as she pulled out the next documents. Exactly how intelligent was he, then? Cunning was how the RDRs had described him, and it fit the bill. “Ruthless cunning.”

What she needed, of course, was the full Rider Evaluation Report from the point when the Wing were installed to active duty. That would contain a helpful and professional assessment of the adult Owain, rather than the developing child Owain. The file, when she found it, was thick.


Rider Evaluation Report
Subject: Owain Masarnen
Status: Deputy Wingleader (Approved)
Author: Mererid Criafolen

Owain is showing an exceptional talent for -



Something creaked in the darkness beyond her lamplight, and Aerona was instantly alert, instinct moving one hand to the dagger on her belt and the other to the lamp. Had that been a footstep? How far away? It had sounded like it was on the other side of the shelf to the right, in which case they might not be able to see her yet...

Silently, Aerona rose from the comfy chair, left the lamp where it was and stole around the bookcase behind her, out of view. Her hand itched to draw the blade it held, but she resisted. Metal being drawn was a sound that tended to whisper to trained fighters, and much though someone clearly knew she was there - the lamp was a bit of a clue - they hopefully didn't know exactly where she was.

Only a Rider could get in, though. Only a Rider with clearance could get in. So there were three options: it was someone trying to do a bit of late-night filing who completely innocently walked nearby; someone who was working with Owain and wanted to stop her research, or, and this one was important, it was someone very high up, a position on the Council let's say for example, who knew she was there and in the name of high-spirited fun had decided to test her -

Aerona ducked and kicked behind her in time for some sort of club or cosh to swing through the space her head had until recently occupied and her foot to connect with someone's leg. It was a short-lived victory, though. As she leapt to spring away a hand caught her wrist, and before she could break its fingers she was suddenly on the floor on her stomach with one arm twisted just the right side of painful between her shoulder blades and someone sitting on her back. She sighed, and forced herself to relax.

"I yield," she said wearily. Rhydian laughed.

"Excellent!" he said. "Although slightly less fun than I was hoping for. I thought you'd have stabbed me. Good job on realising where I was, mind."

"Thanks," Aerona said, and fell into teacher mode without really thinking. "Although if you hadn't creaked that floorboard I wouldn't have known at all," and then she managed to bite her tongue before "What do we do? Stick to the sides, that's right" could leave her mouth. Rhydian just laughed again.

"It was more a test to see if you'd go towards it," he said merrily. "Or turn the lamp off. But you did well! What do you give your children when they do well? Gold star, is it?"

"Yes," Aerona said, and threw some of her caution to the wind. "Also I stop sitting on them, although I admit I don't usually start."

"Oh, yes," Rhydian said, sounding vaguely disappointed. "I thought maybe you giving in was a cunning ruse before you stabbed me. You're good with a pair of daggers, as I recall."

"Thank you, Councillor," Aerona said, controlling the wince as he let go of her wrist and climbed warily off her, apparently expecting bladed retaliation at any moment. It was psychotic. She could have tried fighting on, of course; there was a chance she'd even have managed to stab him, as he kept suggesting, but Aerona was under no illusions that then Rhydian would have retaliated and then she'd have been missing a hand, and Aerona really liked her hands. They were both so useful.

"Right," Rhydian said, rubbing his hands together as they returned to the table and perching imperiously on the edge. "You've had a good fifteen minutes in here now. What have you found?"

"You know I spent about eight of those getting here from the door, Councillor?" Aerona protested. "It's not been fifteen minutes of reading."

"I know," agreed Rhydian. "What have you found?"

Aerona sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. Her beads tickled the sides of her neck.

"Not a lot yet," she admitted. "I'm trying to get an idea of what Owain is like as a person, so that when I move on to potential Clues I'll actually recognise them. So far, I've learned that he was incredibly self-motivated and so even his own Wing members didn't really like him. Although that was when they were kids and weren't fighting together yet."

"They liked him once they were fighting," Rhydian said, staring at the shelves. "In the way that a lot of people feel about siblings I suppose. Love and hate at the same time. It certainly seemed to be Awen's take on him, anyway."

"That's a shame," Aerona said quietly. "I was really hoping that she'd never properly bonded with him, and thus would be entirely unaffected by this."

"She is." Rhydian glanced at her, an eyebrow raised. "She's breathtakingly well-trained. I've personally made sure of it. This won't get in her way."

"I didn't really mean her functionality, Councillor," Aerona said carefully. "Out of interest; why do you think she missed this?"

"Actually, I've been asking myself that," Rhydian frowned. "And I have no idea. I realise that I very often expect the impossible from that woman, but she has never once failed to deliver. And her own Deputy going rogue." He shook his head. "I'd have expected her to notice any Rider going rogue, but one of her own?"

"I think she spent so long accepting and forgiving him for being an idiot that when he was being an idiot with a purpose she didn't notice," Aerona said quietly. "I think she was far too busy watching Lord Flyn and fighting Saxons and doing everything else that she was required to do to watch her own Wing that closely, especially when they were meant to be the people she could most rely on."

"It's disappointing to be reminded that we're all just human," Rhydian mused. "And - hmm."

He looked at the Alpha Wing shelf for a moment, then got up without a word and vanished along it. Aerona blinked at his retreating back. Well, that was Councillors for you. Mad as hares and about as likely to share their thoughts with the rest of the class as a table. She turned back to the Evaluation Report and began reading.

Halfway down, the by-now familiar list of flaws surfaced again.



... Also, he has developed a superb understanding of how Awen's battle tactics work just as she understands his; in battle they can accurately predict each other's moves almost effortlessly, seeming to just know where to be at any given time. In fact, I've rarely seen such unity between commanders, and watching them is very nearly a privilege.

However, Owain's strengths are sadly paired with weaknesses. His battle-ruthlessness is extended to real life, to a point where I suspect he views all other people simply as things, tools for him to use to achieve his purpose. Ordinarily I would consider this no bad thing in a Rider, but for two points: firstly, he applies this thinking to non-Riders, occasionally even seeming to place himself above them; and secondly, he is capable of being motivated by his own gratification more than I'd like. This seems to be rare and mild, however, and is less of a problem than the first point.

Additionally, he considers himself to be slightly more intelligent than he genuinely is. Although this is rarely problematic, occasionally it merges with his tactical thinking with dangerous results. During one of the assessment scenarios, for example, Owain became convinced that one of the pathways laid down had been left as a trap, and the Wing would therefore be moving into a trap if they entered the woods at that point. He based this opinion on a rather fanciful conclusion drawn from the width of the pathway, considering it to be typical of Saxon movement. When other Wing members disagreed Owain's belief was that he was cleverer than them, and so could see what they could not. Ultimately, in order to avoid the 'ambush', while the rest of the Wing entered the woods Owain flew above, possibly entertaining a notion of saving them all should disaster strike. Instead, the Wing made it safely through until attacked by the assessors who had seen Owain flying above the tree-line, thus giving away the Wing's position.

I would expect this particular flaw to lessen with experience, though, and given how impressive he is in his role ninety-nine times out of a hundred my recommendation is not to hold him back because of it...


So. He was self-absorbed, jealous, saw people as tools and sometimes saw patterns that weren't there which he refused to not see on the erroneous grounds that he was the only one clever enough to understand. Aerona stared at the lamplight and thought.

Awen, back in Lord Gwilym's conference room, hadn't believed that Owain could be working for Lord Flyn directly. And they'd all agreed, because what Rider would turn rogue? Who would do that? He was megalomanic, Aerona could see that, and he thought he was better than everyone else; but no Rider could put themselves above Cymru. They just weren't capable of it. And since whatever Flyn was planning seemed to involve Saxons, which Owain must have known about...

Of course, how one defined 'Cymru' was possibly open to discussion. Or, maybe he'd seen Flyn's plan and thought there was some way of twisting it so it helped Cymru. Maybe ... Aerona paused, and thought of Awen.

If he just wanted me dead he didn't need to try to convince me to let Gareth run. All he had to do was cut my throat and have done with it.

And there was the important point. If he'd gone rogue he wouldn't have wasted a second trying to make Awen understand. He'd only have done that if he wanted her to agree, to trust him, to realise that he'd seen something with all of his cleverness that she hadn't. And according to all of these reports, he so badly wanted Awen. He wouldn't have killed her. He probably tried, yes, but he'd probably been banking on her stopping him.

So what was the plan? Carefully, Aerona went back to the shelf, stepping around Councillor Rhydian who was cross-legged on the floor and absorbed in a very long document, and retrieved a few boxes of 'Anything That Mentioned Owain'. It was going to take a while, probably, but these would at least be quicker to get through. And these might contain Clues, which would be like a game.


Diary of Heulwen ferch Dafydd, seven.
Y Fenni.
Excerpt.

The man was nice said his name was Owain, said he was okay because he didn't get caught up the mountain he did dig into the lower levels he was okay, he was nice and a Rider. I seen him at the bottom this morning and I asked him what he seen and he said what he needed to seen.



Automatically Aerona found herself grinning fondly at Heulwen ferch Dafydd's incredibly cute entry until she caught herself and paid attention. Up a mountain? At night? By himself? Well; the mystery of How Owain Went To The Bad was solved, then, because what idiot went alone up mountains at night? What had he been thinking? Was this part of his trying to be a bard phase? Well, it must have been. But they'd all gotten unlucky, because what had come down was neither a poet nor dead, and that only left one option.

Aerona sighed, and carried on sifting through the documents.


Diary of Dafydd mab Meleri, Blue Rank.
Druid in the Temple to Lleu, Casnewydd.
Excerpt.

I finished just as the doors slammed back, so I hurried into the main chamber to see what was going on. There were two Riders, Alpha Wing - the Wingleader and the Deputy, in fact! There in front of me! Except it was less exciting at the time, because Awen was injured, a massive wound going from just beneath her ribs to halfway down her thigh on the left, and it was bleeding bad and Owain was supporting her almost entirely. We got her into one of the side chambers and I started setting up to do the Rituals for her while he grabbed our medkits and started to clean her up. Fortunately she was just about conscious, enough to swallow what I gave her anyway, which made everything easier. We went through almost our entire stock of betony. I must get more.

I asked Owain what happened, but he just glared at me and kept working. Worried, obviously. He kept talking to her, though, muttering sort of, at first I thought it was to keep her awake but I don't think she could hear anything he was saying, she was too busy focusing on staying conscious. I think he was mostly talking to himself. He kept asking her why, over and over. At one point he said, "he wasn't worth it. You're so much more than him. Why did you?" Towards the end once he'd stitched her back together and got her into the circle for me to start the Rituals he sat by her head, stroking her hair - I think she was unconscious by then. He said "This has to stop. I'm going to stop this."

It was strange, but amazing to see how close Riders are first-hand. I was just finishing when another Rider came in, curly hair, Meurig his name was, same Wing. He didn't speak at first; just looked at us all like he was memorising, and then crouched down by Awen as I finished and put his hand on her forehead. Owain just watched. Didn't stop glaring. Then he picked her up and carried her out, and Meurig thanked me, and then hugged me. I asked what happened, and he said she'd jumped between an axe and a six-year-old child in the raid, but he'd killed the Saxon slowly so it was okay...


Verbal Report, Gruff ap Bryn, Butcher, Cas-Gwent.
Taken by Mair Derwen.

The children seem to be having the same nightmare since Dewi went missing; obviously, there's some grain of truth there that people aren't believing and dismissing. Apparently -



Could she find the original report of 'Dewi' going missing? Not without an hour to spare, probably. Aerona looked back down at the paper.


Apparently the day he vanished they all refused to speak anyway, scared of or traumatised by whatever happened. Once they found the body of course and realised it was a bear that had caught him no one thought much more of it. But that was six months ago, and although they talk normally in the daytime now they have this nightmare. Gruff's son finally told his mam about some of it, who told the other parents, who asked their children, who confirmed it.

They dream that they're blackberry picking in the woods when the bear comes, but it's black and walks on hind legs. The fur around its neck looks like a Rider's collar; after careful questioning one of the girls described it, and it sounds like a Deputy Alpha collar. The bear walks at them, grinning, and they try to run, but the brambles are suddenly too thick and pen them in. The bear catches Dewi and roars at him, and the wind blows, and they hear the words, "You weren't worth it." Then Dewi is torn apart in front of them, and the bear looks at them, and they know that if they tell they'll be next.

They usually wake up them. My feeling is that if they've seen Rider Owain, the Alpha Deputy, fighting in the woods in the same place during a raid then a child's mind could easily conflate the two, since an active Rider is a traumatic thing for a child to witness. Alternatively, although far less likely, is that there genuinely was someone involved in poor Dewi's death, who either dressed himself as Rider Owain or simply told the children he was and then disguised his actions as a bear attack. Either way, there's too little to go on here. Since the children are remembering the attacker as a bear we've got no description to go on, and the evidence for the attack being genuinely that of a bear was overwhelming. Perhaps druidic help would be best for them.



Aerona froze, staring at the neatly written report. "You weren't worth it"? After Owain's muttered diatribe partly to Awen and mostly to himself in the Temple to Lleu? After she'd taken an axe strike for a six-year-old boy? Which Owain described as not worth it, when she was so much more than him?

It wasn't evidence. It wasn't definite. But it didn't need to be. Aerona could spot patterns, too.

She fought down the horror, and tried to think past the automatic fucking gods a Rider has murdered a Cymric child response. Come on. What was important here? What clues were staring at her from the story? It was Cas-Gwent, not a million miles from Magwyr. Significant? Probably. A good Saxon meeting place once everyone thought a bear lived there, since no one would now stumble through accidentally. What else? Well, he'd kept the children from talking...

The dream, though. They have the same nightmare. All of them saw Dewi's death again, but in the abstract, and in the same way. That wasn't natural. And within the dream - within their memory of it - the brambles were suddenly too thick for them to escape, both of which suggested -

Realisation dawned like a bucket of cold water. It was druidic. Something had got inside their minds and infected them, changing their memories and haunting them, night after night for months on end. Something had trapped them in that wood, with an angry, vengeful, insane Rider, to watch him tear their friend apart. And something, lest anyone forget, something was delaying the gods damned border warnings for Wrecsam and that had nearly got her children killed as they learned to build dens.

Being a Rider had its uses. Aerona could swear like a sailor when required.

3 comments:

Blossom said...

Wow. That was such a dramatic ending - couldn't tear myself away. Really good. So tense. Write more!

Steffan said...

Oh, GOOD work on expositing the Saxon attack! Quick and dramatic, I love it - I've skipped straight from that paragraph to start writing this comment, I like it so much.

Loving the incidental invention, like the sun pipes. Sometimes, I wasn't sure whether this was meant to be setting up for later or whether they were just random details. Not a problem, really, and easily fixed, but if they're just there for fun, I'd suggest toning down the amount of detail - something like "they let sunlight in with mirrors" and leave it at that. Of course, if this is setting up for a cool scene where a Rider spots an enemy through the pipes, then great! Perfect set-up.

Nice thriller vibe to Aerona entering the archives. I love Storeroom Delta - it makes sense Greek letters exist here, but it makes it feel like modern thriller dialogue, which is great. And the secret archives feel a bit 1984 too - I prefer secret organisations and conspiracies to warfare, and it feels unusual in a fantasy setting.

Much love for "proudly, Aerona only got lost once".

Magred's diary is brilliant - "he didn't like my cat"! "Fringe like two slugs"! Liked getting another perspective on events - I'd love to see more like this, particularly if we get a wildly different slant on things (like Aerona says, a "less biased source").

Document: Backstory is fun too. I like that it feels quite bland and beaurocratic. Owain's dragged a bit - he's infinitely less interesting than Awen, so could've done with a briefer summary (something like "Aerona skipped to the end, because she didn't care about Owain, and rightly so"). Rule it bear in mind at all times: Awen is the most interesting character. The other main characters are her only competition. That said, it's a great idea to track his increasingly negative development through the age group documents, and I love the point that his early flaws were allowed to continue - his ruthlessness and cunning actively encouraged. Chilling.

Oh, that said - "He has an overly-strong tendency to assume that everyone thinks like him but less intelligently". That is genuinely *exciting* writing. Best thing I've read in ages. Well done! I also like that Aerona and Rhydian clock how weird it is that Awen didn't predict Owain's behaviour.

"What do we do? Stick to the sides, that's right", "also I stop sitting on them" - hahaha. Love Aerona and Rhydian together. We've had a run of lonely characters sneaking around recently, and this is a lovely break. And I love Aerona using "share their thoughts with the rest of the class" as her phrase for "speak your mind".

The paragraph after the trap incident is brilliant as well - I love these kinds of descriptions, analysing one character in a way that has something to say about people in general.

"And these might contain Clues, which would be like a game." (I'm just going to cut and paste lines I love - it'll be quicker.)

Ooh, the mountain revelations! Absolutely one hundred per cent incredible - "what had come down was neither a poet nor dead, and that only left one option". Amazing.

"But he'd killed the Saxon slowly so it was okay..."

Didn't like the dream bit - I hate dream sequences - until the reveal it's a druidic thing. Great! Far better, and exciting to have druids enter the story properly.

Quoth the Raven said...

Ooh, long comment! It's like Longcat with even more joy. Homeric Last-First response:

Genuinely thought you'd be horrified by the inclusion of druids. I am fascinated by the fact that you're not. Usually you're wildly negative about such fantasy devices. I wonder if it's going to disappoint you horrifically. Funnily enough, I thought of you as I wrote that dream bit, and wondered if you'd accept it with druids involved. There are one or two more in later chapters, too, but always under druidic influence.

Hurrah for the mountain thing! Well, you know, you can't go writing fantasy stories about Wales and not include the already-written-for-you creepiness of genuine Welsh folklore. And that's one of my favourites.

Oh, Owain's boring but sort of the whole point of Aerona being there, sorry. She's not just looking up her mates for fun, you know. She is doing Serious Grown Up Work, for which she shall get a gold star. I wouldn't have done it, but I never really introduced Owain before I removed him from the story with a scalpel, so I needed to explain.

Marged's diary: some of that is your real-life dialogue. True fact.

Sun pipes are real things. I want some in our living room, but we'll need a thousand pounds. No, you can't look through them. You'd go blind. That's sunlight, y'all. Noted: I shall tone down descriptions.

Ah, flashback exposition! The way I see it, they all have PTSD and so occasionally spaz out in this way. Fortunately, this made for a useful catch-up tool.