Stephen C. Satterly, II – Author, Researcher, School Safety Expert Witness

Chapter One
Year 10230, circa 2021 Earth

The excitement spread through the village with news of Bard Celyn’s arrival. The adults were excited because they could register new births and deaths with him and share news from outside their village. The children were excited because Celyn sang stories to them, and sometimes he had candy. Celyn stood in the clearing at the center of the village, surrounded by excited children. Many wanted a story right then and there, while others wanted a song.

He smiled at their enthusiasm and raised his hands. “Plîs fy mhlant!” They quieted, and he continued in Trade, “You know how this goes. I must speak with the adults. Tonight, after the feast, I will sing you stories around the fire. Until then, you have chores to do.” Groans from the children made Celyn smile wistfully. The groans turned into excited cries as he handed out candy.

Celyn saw a young, wide-eyed girl staring up at him in silence. He knelt before her and gave her a sweet. Her hair was brown with streaks of silver. She was too young for a braid and thus too young to speak Trade. Her hair was tousled and wild, with leaves and twigs stuck in it. She stared at him with liquid brown eyes, a smudge on her nose. The points of her ears were lost in the tangled mop of brown ringlets.

Celyn reached out to wipe away the smudge and, in the Tylwyth Teg tongue, spoke formally, “Cyfarchion, Dywysoges. How may I serve you today?” She answered in Trade, “Honored Bard, I ask for the story of the Ard Rí tonight.”

Celyn felt a jolt. He looked at her as he considered, then reached out with his right hand to cup her chin. “A story of the High King of the Prophecy? It will be as you wish, Princess. Now go play.” Her face brightened with a smile. She dropped into a clumsy curtsy, then turned and ran off.

Celyn spent the afternoon speaking with the adults. An old, cranky-looking air-touched female elf named Glwr asked, “The Barrucha line, is it still unbroken? My grandmother swore you got it wrong.”

Celyn didn’t even need to check his memory. “I got it right, Glwr. Three generations back, through the second daughter, not the first. That’s likely where the confusion started.” Glwr grunted, satisfied, and Celyn moved on to the next question.

A younger fire-touched woman, Nia, spoke in a quiet voice. “What about the Dwarves? My cousin trades iron at the eastern border. He says clans have started serving Queen Mab. Says they’ve taken slaves.” A murmur went through the gathered families.

Celyn didn’t soften it. “I’ve heard the same. I can’t confirm it, but I wouldn’t send anyone north this season.”

A weathered earth-touched farmer named Berach asked, arms crossed. “The trolls. Are they coming for us?”

Celyn’s smile was grim. “Yes, Berach, Trolls have come down from the Griffon Mountains, but the Centauri’s held them back so far,” Celyn said. “Listen for their war drums. The Tylwyth Teg will stand against any incursion.”

Orcs and Goblins, no one bothered to ask about – that danger was old news, a weather pattern rather than an omen, although it had been a long time since they entered the Elvaidd Forest.

It was the last question, from Gareth, the headman himself, that quieted the clearing. “Speaking of the Tylwyth Teg, what about the whispers from Caercartref? Children and parents gone missing from King Moel’s own court?” Celyn hesitated. Even earth-touched Gareth, single-gifted the way most village folk were, could feel that something was wrong when a Tylwyth Teg king couldn’t, or wouldn’t, keep his own palace safe. The ruling caste commanded all four elements-fire, water, air, and earth together, and words and gestures besides – magic enough to raze a mountain, if they chose. That such power should be silent in the face of missing children was the part nobody in the clearing could swallow easily.

“I don’t know,” Celyn admitted. “But I mean to find out before I reach Caercartref myself. Shadow is everywhere.” Murmurs rose at that, and he pressed on. “So is the Light, my brothers and sisters. There are stories of Trolls and Goblins that serve the Light. You know me; I would not share this if I did not believe it to be true.”

He answered as many questions as he could, then spent the rest of the afternoon preparing his harp for that night. The story of the Ard Rí required his harp to be in peak condition.

The feast that evening was simple yet excellent. Celyn was handed a bowl of rabbit stew. Rhian, one of the bakers, handed Celyn a warm loaf of bread. Celyn smiled and offered a coin for the meal. Rhian scolded her son as he reached for the coin. “A Bard’s welcome is never bought, fy mab, it’s given. The Rule of Hospitality!” Celyn smiled and handed the coin to the boy when Rhian turned away. He winked, causing the boy to smile as he scampered away, clutching the coin in his hands.

The children got sticky rolls afterward, a special treat.

Afterward, the families gathered around the fire. They fell quiet as Celyn approached, holding his long Bard’s Harp cradled in his left arm. He stopped when the fire’s warmth touched his face, then gave a sweeping bow to the village.

He began plucking the harp with his right hand. Single notes at first, then chords that grew more complex. Above him, a large globe of light-green gas formed. His rich baritone voice rang out in a quatrain.

Welcome, my friends, and listen well,
For words of import my stories do tell.
Tonight I will tell you, so listen to me,
I tell you of the Prophecy of the Ard Rí.

The children clapped, and the adults smiled. In the gas above Celyn, a strange face appeared. The magic made it seem as though he faced whoever watched him head-on. His ears were round, and he had long brown hair and short-cropped brown facial hair. His eyes were a piercing blue, seeming to see right through them.

In millennia past, a sword was made,
By Myrddin Emery’s hand, as he was bade.
Made holy by Sacrifice and the blood of the Son,
It will smite the Shadow, who, by its Power, is undone.

A majestic sword appeared in the air above Celyn. A gasp escaped the villagers. It was a long, double-bladed sword, with a hilt long enough to grip with two hands. The crossguards were made of reddish gold, ending in dragons’ heads. The pommel was a blood-red stone about the size of a child’s fist. The words, “Dim rhodd mwy na hon, fod dyn yn aberthu ei einioes dros eraill,” were inscribed down the center of the blade. No greater love than this, that a man sacrifices his life for others. Celyn struck a single high string on his harp, and a beautiful tone rang throughout the clearing.

He paused to let the note sing, then began bardic chanting as his fingers flew over the harp in a near-hypnotic thrum.

Behold, my friends, Caledfwlch,
A Sword of Power, sharp and pure!
The Ard Rí will draw it from the Stone
And lay waste to Shadow!

Long ago, in the Mists of Time,
Humans and Fae allied against Shadow.
Shadow fell, and Summer reigned,
But peace was shattered by fell deeds.

Earth and Byd Hud (Bid Heed), separate and alone
Queen Mab and Winter grow stronger
Where is Caledfwlch and the Ard Rí?
Where are the Knights of the Light?

Above Celyn appeared an old man, tall and thin. His hair was long and white; he had golden eyes, and he wore a dark blue robe covered with silver sigils and runes. He wore a blue slouch hat and carried a tall, white staff, likewise covered in sigils and runes.

Comes Myrddin Emerys, the Celestial of old,
Great is his wisdom; his power is bold.
He serves Crwydryn, bright and mighty,
From Him comes the Prophecy of the Ard Rí.

Above Celyn, Myrddin spread his arms wide, and his eyes and every sigil and rune on him began glowing a light blue. He spoke in a deep voice, joined by the villagers, in the tri-verse of prophecy.

Byd Hud in darkness lies,
Winter lies upon the world,
Shadows gather.

Comes a King not of this world,
Here, a Queen of Tylwyth Teg blood.
Their bond is the foundation of Justice.

Bran the Blessed tests Kingship,
Blodeuwedd tests Fidelity,
The Dragon’s Teeth test Strength.

Dragons awake, the world is rent,
Knights of Light are made, Griffons return,
The Ard Rí awakens summer!

 The Prophecy of the Ard Rí made the men sit up straighter, and the women hugged their children as the words’ power of hope took hold. At the end, they all stood, clapped, and cheered.

Above Celyn, an image of the Ard Rí reappeared, with the Tylwyth Teg Queen at his side. A gasp came from the adults around the fire as they recognized her. Robena fel Vulpa, disgraced Tylwyth Teg Princess, now a Warden. How was this possible? They began talking to each other about what they’d just seen.

Celyn finished, and the gas above him dissipated. He looked down, tired, and saw the little girl from earlier looking up at him. She was smiling, with tears in her eyes. He knelt again and wiped away her tears. “Why do you cry, Princess?” he asked.

She beamed at him. “I cry happy. Summer is coming!”