The Dragon, The Wolf and The Raven

                                                                The Last Chance

    In the time before the first branch of The Mabinogion the forefathers of those great heroes carved out their own legends . Some say the tales were part of the oral history of what is Present day Wales. Others believe the fabric between worlds was much thinner, providing a more liminal explanation.  No one seems to know who these heroes were or which side of the veil they were on. Perhaps only the dead remember? In that time Gwydion Pwyll ap Llyr was chieftain of Dyved when the Old tribes were Young. The races lived in relative harmony and magic was never questioned.

    As leader and man he was thought to be the one who could unite the tribes and bring peace to the land. But was he?  Pwyll was now both loved and hated. He was loved as chieftain but when he left Dyved and The Island of the Mighty things began to decline. Pwyll left his younger  brother, Gareth The Red Hand in charge. His people were saddened. That sadness quickly changed to hate, when Gareth started to abuse his power and his people. During this time many died and more were made slaves. The lucky, only stripped of their lands and titles. Gareth Red Hand declared himself King. The alliances between tribes and races were shredding fast.



    Seven years of misery had passed. Now rumors were being whispered under the fern. It was said the one who should be king would return in the spring. There were once many who thought Pwyll was the one, but his leaving crushed their hopes. Some were kind and said he had no choice. Others said he was a coward and not fit to rule. A few who were closer to the truth, were saying, he followed his desire and not his duty. Some versions of that theory were more crudely put. Now in the spring of the seventh year of Red Hand's reign, the snow was gone and a single warrior had been spotted moving inland from the South coast, or so the rumor went.



                                              (The Dragon The Wolf  and The Raven) working title.

                                                  chapter 1. A meeting with wolves.

    Pwyll's thoughts wandered as he walked slowly leading his weary battle charger. The road ahead was his future, but it was covered in shadow. Then again, perhaps it lay behind, in the shy smile beneath a crop of copper red hair, just as his heart told him. His trail was set and he knew it. It was written in the sands of time, he personally did the writing long ago. It was his own choice to be the speaker for the dead. His lust was a curse that caused him to abandon his people. His shame cost him true love. His desire for his betrothed the Queen of Dragons had cooled considerably over the years as did his lust for the Nymph Queen.  None of that seemed to mattered now. It was the Fire Witch who captured is soul and every intelligent man knows, when a virgin has your soul; it is time to leave. He believed he would have sacrificed everything for a chance of happiness with her. Of the women in his life, Kerry was by far, the most danger to his duty. Or was she? It was Kerry who sent him to fulfill his destiny. His own weakness was the true danger and that knowledge chewed on his soul.

    He plodded forward as the wind in his face became colder. His progress became even slower. One did not hurry home when caring so much guilt. Shadows were becoming  darker and closing in. The huge dapple gray behind him stopped bringing the warrior instantly alert. The Midnight Forest was no place for the weak in body or spirit. Pwyll moved quietly to the side of his mount, the speed of movement was at odds with the speckled gray in his hair. He took a large shield but left the Axe behind. He adjusted the green shield with the huge red  dragon on his left arm and drew his sword.  He spoke softly to his horse," Easy old friend, I hear them".   

    His wait was not long, three small men and four large wolves came trotting around the bend in the road. The wolves stopped short sliding sideways,ears back, fangs bared. The Elves were slightly more graceful. They stopped then  bowed except the oldest one, dressed in the dark green from hat to boots. He took two steps forward before bowing deeply saying, between deep breaths, " Forgive us my lord, but we have been searching many days for you". As the Elf straighten up, a smile of recognition, came to Gwydion Pwyll ap Llyr. The silver she wolf ran forward jumping on Pwyll and started licking his face with her tail wagging joyfully. He was shocked and more than a little afraid,even as he recognized the Elf as his old friend and mentor Jackdaw. Pwyll held the wolf out and looked at her face closely " "Jackdaw my old friend , is this Shiva?" His voice held disbelief and excitement at he same time. The Elf 's emerald eyes twinkled as he watched his king snuggle the huge Near Wolf. "Yes she is the pup,you left in my care Sire."

Pwyll was stunned, " But how can she still know me?"  The old Elf signaled the youngest to attend to the horse, who was not as happy to see wolves as his rider.  Then said "When you left  I continued her training , she was given your bedding and many articles of clothing along with some other things over the years. I am sorry to say they did not survive but glad they served their purpose." The Near Wolf , stood on her hind legs with her front legs over Pwyll's shoulders the huge head facing his own, eye to eye. Her golden eyes were mesmerizing ,but her weight was staggering.

" She is magnificent." grunting softly  " and heavy." Pwyll gasped. 

" Command her sire"  Pwyll whispered , "Down Shiva"  The Near Wolf sat immediately looking expectantly at her master. The man dropped to his knees laying sword and shield on the ground, again he hugged her.  Jackdaw saw the bonding, and thought, That's done, the bond is steal forged. The old elf smiled, with small pang of relief,  There was a special magic to train a Near Wolf, but for a master who had been away for so long, even a Wolf Mage has his doubts.

    "Who is with you?" asked Pwyll  "This is my cousin Ekel, and this is my youngest son Makeen.

Ekel stepped forward and started to bow, Pwyll stepped forward stretched out his hand saying, "There has been enough bowing today already". Ekel pushed back the black hood with his free hand.  He was blushing, his face almost as red as his hair.  Pwyll said, "I see you are an archer and a wolf warrior . Are you as good as Jackdaw?"  Ekel answered quickly " Not hardy sire. "

The old Elf laughed, saying , " What a modest fellow he is in your presents. He  is as good if  not better."

The king looked at Makeen, dressed all in brown, noticing the same green eyes and coloring as his father, but the Blond hair was all Mirinda's. The Boy was still holding the huge horse, the animal was  calm but still not comfortable with the new friends. Makeen was scowling and looking directly at him. Pwyll said " How are you Makeen? " The boy made a rude gesture.  His father said, " I am sorry sire, but he has spent too much time with his mother. By the way she is not very happy with you."

"Yes, so  I've heard. Many people seem to share that sentiment." Pwyll returned his shield to the saddle horn. Then turned asking, "Is it as bad as I have heard?  The smile faded from Jackdaw's eyes, " Yes sire it is ."

"Well what do tribal leaders say? Has there been any attempt to overthrow my brother.?"

" No Sire"

" Has no one spoken out against his actions?"

" No one who lives my Lord". The shadow of  a passing cloud over the rising moon hid his sorrow.;

" Pwyll rubbed his eyes, " So it is all true"  Then another painful thought struck, " What of my sisters?"

" I do not know , I was banished back to our own lands as were all others on the counsel whom Gareth though loyal to you. I have heard rumors of course, not good ones, sire."

Pwyll slammed  his sword into its scabbard, "Do you believe them?"

" Yes , I am sad to say, I most certainly do along with many others." He looked up as the moon shown down on the road.

" All of the Elven tribes, and most of the old tribes have gone into hiding. Only the Wolf  Warriors move between  Dyved, Gwynedd." 

The look on the  face of Llyr's eldest  son, said death was coming to some in this land, and soon. 

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