Taliesin – Road to Dunfennan, Britain, 100 BC

  Taliesin strung experimentally at his lyre and tried to recapture the verses that had come to him in a dream. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t capture them in the right order. With a feeling of frustration, he put the lyre aside and got off the slowly moving cart. It was all Finn’s fault. How was he supposed to concentrate? The man never stopped talking, and Brin was just as chatty. Not very appropriate for a druid, he thought disapprovingly. Then again, it was not their fault. How was he supposed to write the greatest poem of all time when he had never experienced true love or battle or anything truly extraordinary? And he was almost twenty already! He had spent most of his life on Ynys Mon, learning everything he could, but it was just theory. Surely the world all those epic songs and poems spoke of had to be somewhere out here? Great heroes fighting great battles, gods coming down to earth to test the mortals and beautiful, noble ladies worthy of admiration and worship? All he had seen so far were peasants, robbers and swindlers. There were a few pretty girls in the villages they had come through, but every time he tried to talk to one, they would either just giggle or talk about incredibly boring, mundane things like cow milking and hair ribbons. Were all those poems and stories simply lies set in an imaginary and idealised world that had never existed? Please, gods, give me a sign that it’s not so!

  A woman landed at his feet. Taliesin was so flabbergasted that he froze in place. A pair of dark eyes looked up at him furiously from the most perfect face he had ever seen, framed by long locks of dark brown hair.

  ‘What are you looking at, human?’ the vision of beauty asked in a strange accent.

  She got back up in one fluid, graceful move that should have been impossible considering she was wearing armour. A lady in armour? Was it armour? It was the shiniest, most polished silver that almost blinded him, and it clung to her slender, tall body in a way that made him breathless. All the beauties he had imagined in his lonely nights had been dressed in white, flowing robes and had floated towards him with a gentle, loving smile.

  ‘I told you they were not trained. You cannot just command them like you could a battlekin!’ some unfamiliar voice called from afar, but Taliesin couldn’t tear his gaze away from the perfection in front of him, even when she huffed in a very unladylike manner and stomped off in long, manly strides.

  Taliesin’s eyes followed her. Only then did he register four other strangers at the edge of the forest. All were dressed alike in the strange shimmering armour, with long swords strapped to their backs. There was another beauty, and even the three men looked prettier than most women he had seen. All slender and tall and otherworldly. Taliesin swallowed nervously. Had the gods descended from the heavens after all? Surely no mortals could be that perfect? The other beauty sat astride a stocky wild pony, and one of the men held two more horses on a strangely shimmering golden leash that seemed to disappear and reappear in the sunlight. Magic?

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  ‘Taliesin!’

  He glanced to the side to see that Gwydre had grabbed his arm and was looking at him with obvious concern.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘What did that woman say?’

  ‘I don’t know. Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?’ Taliesin replied, still dazed.

  Brin grabbed his other arm. ‘Did she put some kind of spell on him?’ she asked Gwydre urgently.

  ‘I saw no magic energies,’ Gwydre admitted.

  ‘They are certainly not from here,’ Finn confirmed from behind them.

  ‘She fell from the sky,’ Taliesin sighed in awe.

  ‘No, she didn’t. The horse threw her off. Never seen anyone fly so far. It’s a miracle she is not dead or at least injured,’ Brin explained dryly.

  Taliesin wanted to protest but stopped as he saw one of the silver-clad men approaching in long, confident strides. He set his Seeker energies free and gasped. The magic coming from the strangers was overwhelming and completely unfamiliar.

  ‘What are you looking at, human?’ he whispered as the words finally registered clearly in his mind.

  ‘What?’ Brin asked with another worried look at him.

  ‘That’s what she said. I think the gods have descended on earth,’ the bard explained in awe.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Maybe they are nobles from across the sea who don’t speak our language well,’ Brin chided.

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Gwydre muttered thoughtfully, but made no further comment when a black-haired warrior reached them and bowed his head respectfully.

  Taliesin barely followed his explanation about having come from a faraway kingdom to buy iron. His eyes were still fixed on the grumpy beauty, who pushed away one of her laughing companions and then started arguing with the black horse. When he had prayed for the perfect woman, maybe he should have concentrated less on her beauty but should have also specified that she should also not be a simpleton? Did she expect the horse to answer?

  ‘You are very welcome to come with us to Dunfennan, Killian. Our village mines iron ore. We can certainly sell you some,’ he heard Finn say.

  ‘Caell’ian,’ the handsome young man corrected with a bright smile.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I said,’ Finn replied in confusion.

  Taliesin finally averted his gaze from the muddleheaded beauty and corrected him, ‘He said Caell’ian.’

  ‘It is difficult to hear the difference for those of us who don’t have a bard’s ear like Taliesin here,’ Gwydre said apologetically.

  The young man just laughed and replied: ‘It doesn’t matter. You can call me Killian if that is easier for you.’