Reluctant as she was to admit that there was anywhere in the world more beautiful than Betws-y-Coed, Merliyn had to acknowledge that the lakes of the mountainous land she was now in were stunning. Surrounded by forests which had turned gold and orange during their journey were lakes that glowed an astonishing blue when viewed from the mountainside on a bright day. And the mountains here were immense. They really filled the horizon, stretching up to perhaps three times the size of Snowdon.

There was something else about the mountains. Even here, on this side of invisible divide between Earth and Uffen, Merliyn had a strong awareness of their presence. Naturally so, for they were ancient spirits. Dignified and aloof, they cared not for the comings and goings of human or Sí. Entire empires could rise and fall without interesting the mountain spirits in the slightest. It was therefore wonderfully relaxing to climb as far as the treeline, look down over a lake and open her mind to a sense of timelessness and calm.

Less than a day’s walk and they would arrive at Aventicum where — according to Alerus, whom Merilyn had grown to respect over the course of their journey — camp life could become very busy. Thus, with their destination just a few hours away, Merilyn and her friends had left the road to scramble up through the forest to this vantage point and imbibe a glorious beauty that was rewarding her for having made the decision to leave home.

A dozen faint, blue-grey lines of smoke drew her eyes to a rectangle of brown and red on the far side of the lake. That was Aventicum, the Roman camp that, according to Sapentia, would be their home for at least three months of basic training.

‘Anyone miss Betws-y-Coed?’ asked Netanya. She was sitting on a rock, alert and interested in all of their surroundings.

‘A little,’ admitted Merilyn. ‘But I’m glad I’m here.’

Hands behind his head, Gawain was lying beside her on a clump of brown-green grass and buttercups. ‘I don’t miss our village.’

‘Nor I.’ Arthyr was standing, facing the lake. Knowing him as well as she did, Merilyn could tell that he was relishing the place they were in and the view. His beautiful face was as calm as ever, one or two strands of black hair drifting across his pale forehead, but Arthyr’s eyes were alive and glowing. This land was evidently not as threatening as he had feared.

Most importantly, the spirits of Uffen could be felt here and they were just as responsive as at home. In fact, Merilyn felt that if necessary she could perform even more powerful magic than ever before. As though aware of her thoughts, Arthyr glanced across at Merilyn and gave her a slight smile.

‘I’ve a plan for when we’ve done whatever job the Romans have us here for, want to hear it?’ asked Gawain.

‘Of course,’ Netanya looked across at him, smiling.

‘I’m going to carry on to Rome, join a theatre, and write a play that makes me famous across the empire.’

‘Wonderful!’ Netanya clapped. ‘What’s it going to be about?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that a lot. Most of the time we have been travelling, in fact. I’m too young to write the kind of drama we saw at Nemetocenna, so I think I’ll write the story of Beli and Don; the Romans won’t know it.’[1]

‘Good idea.’ Netanya shifted around on her rocky seat so as to look at him. ‘I’ll come with you. Maybe I can act Don.’

Gawain was staring into the sky as if picturing his future there. ‘Maybe. You are the right age and I do picture her as being dark haired, from Cymru, not a fair-haired Roman. But can you act?’

Netanya laughed and picked up a handful of small stones, which she began to launch at Gawain, one at a time, evidently aiming for his nose. ‘Forget it. Of course I can act if I want to. But seeing as you aren’t enthusiastically welcoming my offer, I’ll find something else to do. Something involving music.’

While Merilyn was enjoying the banter of her friends, along with the spectacular views and the fecund presence of spirits of stone, tree, water and flower, she could not entirely relax into the moment. Two major concerns caused her considerable anxiety. One was the task that the Romans expected of them and what might be the cost of failure. While Sapentia was extremely confident in the good faith, wisdom, and kindness of her empress, the same could not be said of Alerus. Her sergeant believed the empress to be extremely dangerous and liable to destroy those who failed her. And over the course of the four months it had taken them to walk here, Merilyn had come to trust the judgment of Alerus over Sapentia in matters of Roman affairs. Then too, the governor of Deva, Antonius Vibius, had given them a meal, during which he too had made pointed remarks about the untrustworthiness of the empress.

So that was one concern that kept a part of Merilyn from enjoying the day. The other was that they were being stalked by a blood-drinker. For several consecutive nights at the start of their journey, the powerful spirit had been present in Merilyn’s dreams. Nothing too sinister had occurred, but Merilyn felt sure that nearby, in Uffen, an evil spirit[2] was watching her. From Deva onwards, with a fast journey down straight roads and with Roman guard-posts their nightly destinations, the presence of the blood-drinker had diminished. And when they took ship to cross from Britannia to Gaul, it had disappeared altogether. Yet it was evident from Merilyn’s recent nightmares that the spirit had caught up with them.

‘Arthyr, were you visited by a blood-drinker in your dreams last night?’

‘I was.’ Arthyr gave a shrug and looked towards the distant mountains, as if disinclined to say anything further on the subject.

‘Do you still have that pine necklace?’

By way of answer, Arthyr tipped forward, as though bowing, until Merilyn could see it around his slender, pale neck.

‘She’s back is she?’ asked Netanya. ‘Now you raise it, I too dreamed of her.’

‘She is back.’ Merliyn sighed. ‘And it will take more than a pine necklace to deter her. If we cross into Uffen, she’ll be waiting to attack us. And we are not a match for her.’

‘We don’t know that.’ Arthyr was slightly indignant. ‘There are spirits around here that will help me.’

‘If you can call on them.’

‘What are you saying? That I shouldn’t enter Uffen?’

‘I wouldn’t. Not while she’s close.’

Flinging his arms wide, Arthyr gestured to the scene before them. ‘Don’t you feel it? Uffen is so easy to step into here and the spirits around us are friendly. I’m not going to hide from her forever. Let’s face her now, challenge her on our terms. Get it over with.’

‘That’s the attitude! Come on, let’s do it!’ Netanya leapt to her feet.

Gawain, a little more heavily, stirred himself too. ‘Maybe we can get assistance from the ancient spirits of this valley.’

‘What do you think, Merilyn? Better now than some other time of the blood-drinker’s choosing.’ Arthyr looked at her hopefully.

‘There is some merit in that last point.’ Merilyn never liked to be rushed and it felt that Arthyr was being impetuous once more. Yet on the other hand, what he said was true. Moreover, surprisingly, Uffen here felt safer than at home and she was keen to learn more about the spirits of this region. ‘We need to find as safe a place as we can before crossing over, then scout carefully and determine what alliances are in place or what new ones we can create. Don’t just run off once we are there Arthyr.’

‘Are we really going to cross?’ Netanya was eager, clenching and unclenching her hands.

‘We are. But not here,’ she pointed uphill, ‘over there, among those pines.’ Even from several hundred yards away, Merilyn could sense the good will of the cluster of tall pines. They were a barrier against evil.

Soon, Merilyn was leading the way over piles of brown, fallen pine needles and brushing gently past the lower branches of the evergreens. There was, thought Merilyn, almost affection in the soft touch of the trees. The trees were crowded close and it wasn’t easy to find a space wide enough for all of them to stand together.

‘Here,’ said Merilyn at last. ‘Hold hands.’

‘Wait, I can do this myself.’ Netanya was studying the sway of the branches higher up. Evidently the wind in Uffen was a little stronger than it was on Earth and it was blowing from the east, not south. The confused motion of the branches was a good guide and Merilyn could immediately sense the darker world of Uffen taking shape around her, but she held back from stepping through in case Netanya needed help.

Then Arthyr was gone. Netanya was gone. Merilyn held out her hand to Gawain, but he shook his head, looked upwards and just at that moment a finch jumped from its branch on Earth to another in Uffen, giving Gawain the push he needed. He was gone too. Pleased that her friends were becoming more skilled in making the transition, Merilyn took one step.

And arrived in Uffen.

Of course, it was midday here too. But the sun was only a pale blue disc in a grey-white sky. The shadows of the trees were mauve and thick. Yet the trees themselves were as friendly as Merilyn had anticipated; she carefully pushed aside a branch so she could touch the dry, wrinkled bark of a trunk.

— Greetings, friend Pine, is this wood willing to stand guard over travellers?

— A day. A day. A season. A century. A butterfly. A sparrow. A beetle. A human. Take shelter if you are not undead, a monster or fire.

The tree was dreaming and Merilyn felt it improper to intrude any further.

‘Over here.’ Gawain’s call was close but Merilyn still had a moment of anxiety as she looked up to realize that the crowded tree trunks obscured her view of her friends. There was a clearing nearby, however, and soon she found them all standing there, safe. In front of her was a large, high-backed stone chair, covered in ivy.

‘Interesting,’ said Arthyr, touching the grey, worn stone of an arm. ‘Not hostile.’

Only when Gawain climbed up to sit on the chair and found his feet could not touch the ground, did Merilyn realize how large it actually was.

‘I wish for a thousand wishes. Now I wish for an apple of youth… Or just an apple… Oh well.’

— Who made you, chair in the pine woods? Merliyn touched the tall back of the chair, finding a space beneath the ivy.

— There were no woods here when Lord Caelub and Lady Múrieann placed my sister and I to face the lake. In those days the court of Thunbriga would assemble here to listen to listen to the poets, to sing and to dance. Lord Caelub would sit here, Lady Múrieann would be seated on my sister and often the noble Sí would hold hands. Those were beautiful days and even though they were as fleeting as a snowflake that lands upon my back and melts, I remember them with greater intensity than the hundreds of years that have passed since.

— What happened? Where is your sister?

— It was thought that Lord Caelub was killed in the battle of Feimen, but the truth was that he had been cursed to take the form and mind of a bear. After decades wandering in the forests and rivers of the north, he recovered his memories by eating a salmon descended from the Bradán Feasa. Still in the form of a bear, he hurried home. And from the new pine forest, he spied the court of Lady Múrieann gathered around my sister and I. His heart, however, broke, upon seeing that she had remarried and that her new lover, Laegaire son of Niall, was sat upon me. That night, he came here and with a mighty effort, dislodged my sister, rolling her down the hill until she rested at the shore of the lake, half in the water. There she remains.

— Thank you.

— Magician. Will you earn my friendship?

— If I can.

— Sit here, on me, and let me hear you recite a poem.

— A moment.

When Merilyn looked up, it was to see her friends looking at her.

‘Were you speaking to it?’ asked Netanya, with enthusiasm. ‘What did it say?’

‘It wants someone to be seated and recite a poem.’

‘Come on,’ Arthyr was already moving towards the trees further down the slope of the glade.

‘Will it give us a reward?’

‘Not a wish, if that’s what you are thinking. But it will be your friend.’

Arthyr chuckled, with a sneer that was not the kindest but which could be seen on his face far too often. ‘That’s very helpful. A friendly stone chair in the middle of nowhere. Let’s keep going. We are trying to face up to that blood-drinker remember.’

There were times when Arthyr’s lack of concern for the mores of Uffen really infuriated Merilyn and this was one of them. It was no wonder Uthel hated Arthyr for his disregard of the proper etiquette for dealing with spirits. In replying, Merilyn strove to keep her voice steady and her anger out of it. ‘Arthyr, by birth you have inherited enormous power and the loyalty of many spirits. Whereas I learned the slow way, by talking to thousands of spirits. This request from the spirit of the chair is a gift, an easy way to make a friend in an unfamiliar land.’

‘I know, but if we stopped at every spirit to hear its story and aid it, we’d be a century just walking down this hill.’

‘I’ll do it.’ Gawain pushed himself back firmly into the stone chair. ‘But I’ll be quick.’

‘Good.’ Netanya folded her arms and looked at Gawain expectantly.

With a small cough, Gawain sat up straight and spoke out with a strong voice.

‘Achilles they say was young at Troy.

‘And Alexander had cut the Gordian knot

‘Before his beard had grown upon his jaw.

‘Now rages our prodigy, Lord Rocadamour.

‘“Follow the youth!” comes the shout from all.

‘Rocadamour laughs and cries, “let those who can keep

‘Up. For I am thunder and lightning. I am

‘Storm and wrath. I plunge my blade through iron

‘And bone. Unquenchable heat burns through me,

‘Like a forest fire.” The eastern men cannot halt

‘This bloody blaze, this flood of ichor.

‘They panic and flee, an army no more.

‘King Bratislav flinches at the sight.

‘“By my right hand, this battle is lost.

‘“Even Duke Carisbald falls from his saddle

‘“My troops turn from the fight, faces white,

‘“While terrible screams come from beyond the crush.

‘“My counts, we must be gone, already the first

‘“Arrows and bolts seek our lives.”

‘In shame and sorrow, the king rides away.

‘His men left to live or die as they may.’

‘Ta da!’ Gawain pushed himself off the chair, face flushed, evidently pleased. When Netanya started to applaud, Merilyn joined in.

‘That was good.’ Arthyr sounded surprised. ‘What saga is it from? The names sound Roman.’

‘Hah! It is my own. It’s from a play I’m working on.’

‘Well done indeed. Now can we go? I’m anxious to find out if we can rid ourselves of the blood drinker.’

‘Wait. Let’s ask my new friend about her.’ Gawain turned back and, almost affectionately, touched the arm of the stone chair. Nothing stirred, not even a branch and then Gawain straightened, his gaze towards Merilyn intense. ‘The blood-drinker is here. Walking around the pine grove, waiting for us. And the stone says she’s very powerful.’

Only with the sudden loss of happiness did Merilyn appreciate that she had been enjoying a sense of adventure and the pleasure of exploring new parts of Uffen. Now her chest tightened with anxiety and it was clear from the expressions of her friends — even Arthyr, although he gave his usual nonchalant shrug — that they felt anxious too.

When Merilyn had been eight, she had very much admired a young woman called Dubheasa, who had been a powerful magician and was very confident in her ability to travel safely in Uffen. One frosty morning, Dubheasa’s white body had been found by a stream, entirely drained of blood. Her skin had been punctured by bites at her neck and wrists, bites that were marks left by a blood-drinker. Recalling Dubheasa, Merilyn could imagine the four of them cold and still and a long way from home.

‘Can the chair offer us any advice?’

After a pause, Gawain said, ‘stay among the pines.’

‘Or we could cross back to Earth,’ Netanya pointed out.

‘And she will continue to follow us until someone invites her across and she can attack.’ Arthyr’s voice rose slightly. ‘Wasn’t the point to confront her?’

Merilyn shook her head. ‘We need to have a weapon that can harm her or the assistance of a powerful spirit. Let us leave Uffen for now and with care, we can create the necessary alliances.’

With a finger knuckle raised to his mouth, Arthyr quivered, like a doe a moment before she flees. ‘That could take months and lead nowhere. And I can’t live like that.’

Then he was off, running down the slope in the direction of the lake.

‘Arthyr!’ came the cry of three voices.

‘Come on then!’ With a lurch, Gawain followed their impulsive friend and immediately Netanya ran after Gawain. Sighing to herself, Merilyn took two long pine branches from the brown forest floor and then walked briskly down through the trees.

[1] While it is true that the Roman public is generally ignorant and uninterested in barbarian gods, there are some scholars who have researched the subject and I pride myself that my book, The Gods of Cambria and Hibernia is a worthwhile monograph on the subject. Gawain was mistaken in this conjecture. My readers will be familiar with the story of Hades and Persephone and I believe that of Beli and Don to be similar, only instead of pomegranate seeds, she eats six apple seeds that doom her to having to reside in Uffen for six months of the year.

[2] A blood drinker, or vampirus, as we Romans term them, is a creature from Uffen which represents a particular danger to humanity. As referenced in the speech of Gaius Flavius Norbanus to the Grand Council, there is, within memory of the elderly population of Rome, direct experience of these monsters. Descriptions of a vampyre appear in several accounts of sensational character, accounts which tend to dwell on the seduction of Lady Ulpia Barbula by such a monster posing as the ambassador of the Sí prince Eleron. Of the more sober and valuable observations the best are those in the entry under vampirus by the anonymous author of Encyclopaedia Monstrorum, Daemonum et larvarum in which it is explained that the vampyre has certain weaknesses: it requires invitation to leave Tartarus for Earth; it is destroyed by sunlight; it must recuperate in a coffin or mausoleum; and while it cannot be harmed by another other means, including iron, it can be killed by a wooden stake to the chest.