The Prince of Enchanters

Prologue: Druidess of the Grove

The borders of the Logres provinces of Dyfed and Glywysing, known now as Carmarthenshire and Glamorgan respectively, were marked by a deep flowing river that was eventually named Afon Tywi, the River Towy.

The mouth of the River was secluded by what the locals considered to be a sacred grove of rowan trees, due to the aura of tranquillity it appeared to emit and the feeling of peace several residents stated they had felt while walking under the leaves.

Following the path of the River northwards, the grove blended into a meadow that serviced the capital of the Celtic Demetae tribe, Moridunum; later renamed Caeryrddin and eventually anglicized to Carmarthen.

To Cliodne, the daughter of the last free druid of the Emerald Isle Hibernia, the grove was her sanctuary; here she felt more at home than in the place of her birth.

Hibernia, the place of her birth. A great religious change had overtaken the island over a century ago. Many were converted to the monotheist teaching of the preacher known as Pádraig, a holy man born Maewyn Succat who was giving the name Patricius and was eventually rechristened as Patrick. But, alas, with a great change, chaos is always close by. Not everyone was converted and those that would not, such as the Druids of Old, were persecuted by the majority; something that Cliodne was sure was not in the preacher’s teachings.

The situation had reached a point where her father, a gifted seer, had Cliodne smuggled across the waters to Logres in order to save her life.

But peace had not lasted. Constantine, the High King of Logres, had taken inspiration by the sermons of Dewi of Ceredigion, the former student of the holy man Paulinius of Dyfed.

As such, all who would not convert were outlawed, stripped of both wealth and rank. Which was why Cliodne made her home here; the locals would not tolerate the invasion of Constantine’s armed men into a sacred place.

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Cliodne turned down one of the paths that lead to an ancient rowan tree that was her preferred place of worship for, to her, it symbolised the very essence of the grove: old, wise and filled with unknowable power.

The earth was cool beneath her bare feet as she approached the river that meandered its way through the grove to the sea. Gathering her robes about her, Cliodne crossed the river via a set of natural stepping stones with well practiced strides. Once on the other side she started down a well trodden path.

She stopped, however, when something moved in the water out of the corner of her eyesight. Turning back to the river Cliodne was puzzled to see that someone had discarded a bundle of cloth in the plant life that dotted the shallows of the river.

Moving closer Cliodne was horrified to discover that the cloth was actually a dress, while the black strands she mistook for plants was actually the person’s hair. Although not common, this was not the first drowning Cliodne had discovered; the victim usually tried to cross the river via the stones, but because they would have had little practice, they would often slip and their sodden clothing would drag them under the flowing water.

With little hesitation, Cliodne waded into the water, paying no attention to the dampening of her clothing. With minimum effort she dragged the body to dry land.

Turning over what could now be identified as a woman, Cliodne had to stifle a gasp. She knew her. It was Emer, daughter of Eldred Demetae, Chief of Demetae Tribe; Cliodne remembered naming her fifteen years ago, after the wife of Cuchulainn. She was Eldred’s beloved daughter, so why was she here?

A sudden cry startled Cliodne out of her musing. Looking around she could not determine the source of the cry, when another one cut through the air.

Studying the riverbank closely, Cliodne noticed a mound of earth that was not there the previous day. With careful movement she peeled away the crusted mud.

Inside the earthen fort was a set of purple swaddling clothes that was wrapped around a child barely a month old, which upon inspection, was a male.

Despite the young age, the boy had several tufts of dark black hair. His eyes were shut tightly as he screamed his displeasure into the normally tranquil woodland.

With innate gentleness, Cliodne carefully picked up the child and cradled him in her arms, gently soothing him.

Slowly the child calmed and blinked up as the source of his comfort.

Upon seeing his eyes, Cliodne had to stop herself from dropping him.

“Impossible.” She whispered.

The boy’s irises were unnaturally silver in colour.

Cliodne glanced back at the Emer’s body.

Although secluded, Cliodne was not isolated from the rumours that ran in Moridunum. Upon seeing the child’s unnatural eye colour, a rumour that the druidess had dismissed as fantastical hysteria rose to the front of her mind.

A woman had gotten pregnant outside of wedlock and upon interrogation had claimed that a knight in golden armour had come to her in her dreams. The locals immediately started crying about demons and similar topic and the woman had been run out of the town.

In Cliodne’s mind it was unlikely that the boy’s father was a demon, but that did not mean it was a mortal either.

There was a race older than man. The Faeries, a race of humanoid people who would uncommonly take a mortal for a lover; appearing in dreams was a common seduction trick. But Cliodne knew of no male Fae that would take a mortal. But then her experience with the Fae was limited to Lady Eviene of the Lakes and Morgen, Princess of the Northern Shores who had travelled from the northern shore of Caledonia to greet her; for reasons unfathomable to the druidess.

Looking back into the boy’s eyes Cliodne wondered if silver eyes were the hallmark of a male Fae, as both Eviene and Morgen possessed emerald colouring, which Cliodne knew from her father as being passed down from mother to daughter.

That was something that had faintly amused her when her father spoke of the Fae: children of the same gender as their Fae parent were the only ones to inherit the Faerie’s magickal ability. If this child was the son of a male Fae then he would definitely have magickal talent and based on that the druidess came to a decision.

She would raise him. Although she herself possessed only mild magickal talents, Cliodne knew that if she returned the boy to his maternal grandfather the moment he showcased his heritage he would be killed, if he was lucky.

Resigning herself to bury Emer the following day, Cliodne secured the boy in her arms before carrying him down the well trodden path to her favourite place of peace.

She pondered on what to name the boy, for the name had to hold meaning. Long and hard she mused under the ancient rowan tree until the name whispered in her mind.

She named him after what he was and how he survived. She named him both elf-man and sea fort.

She named him Myrddin.