ENG 111

Exiled From Illusion: A Modern Tale of Gwydion

By A. F. Spackman

"Leave him alone, Lew." Lew’s friend Mannie spoke quietly but in a dangerous tone. There was no malice in the words, no threat to the youth named Lew, only concern for him. For Mannie understood danger; danger and he were old friends, and he reacted to danger’s challenge with an equal measure of ferocity. Lew, however, never understood what consequences might come of his actions until it was too late, and this was partly because of his naturally amiable, unsuspicious personality and partly because he possessed far more exuberance than experience at this early stage in his life. Mannie, on the other hand, was an even-tempered man, observant, cautious, with intelligent, dark, steady eyes and an iron will that hardly ever faltered under pressure, as many times as he had been tested.

“Lew, don’t! ” Mannie said as Lew hesitated to step towards the stranger. “Leave him alone.” Mannie laid a meaty hand on Lew’s soft, flabby, tattooed shoulder. Each chubby, mottled pink finger had been adorned with scratched gold rings mounted with golden skulls with tiny red plastic eyes. Mannie tried again to draw the younger biker aside before they were overheard. Lew, in unintentional rebellion, refused to see the need for discretion.

"But it's Gwydion!" Lew's young voice protested as he stole a furtive glance back at the gas station attendant behind the counter.

"Likely."

"So it's true then. He can't see any of it," Lew said in disappointment, in awe, as he made a slight gesture around them. "He can't see the reality behind our illusions. Can we be sure he doesn't, Mannie?"

"He took my money for the chips and gave me change for the vending machine, didn't he? The money must have seemed real enough to him or he would have said something." Mannie shrugged, casually releasing Lew's arm.

"I was talking about Liatha." Lew's tone approached indignant. "She just kicked over an oil can outside. Imagine, Mannie! Surely he must have heard it…"

"Don't stare, Lew, he's starting to notice us." Mannie warned, gesturing with his eyes. Over by the counter, the cashier was casting glances their way over a short redhead in cut-offs.

"If you fellas want something, bring it over." The cashier finally called in a definite Texas drawl. "If not, I suggest you clear out. We don't want any trouble now," he added, adopting a defensive stance behind the counter.

"We'll be leavin'. Come on, Lou," Mannie returned in kind, his teeth dark with tobacco. He chewed once, for effect, then spat into a trash bucket in the corner by the door.

"He looks terrible," Lew whispered as Mannie dragged him out. The stench of gasoline permeated the hot, dry Texas air.

"Look at yourself." Mannie advised, with a bare hint of mirth.

Lew looked down, then fingered the holes in his shirt as though he had made a profound discovery. "I forgot what guise I was wearing--"

"Imagine that." Mannie said, trying hard not to smile.

Suddenly, the redhead emerged from the gas station, letting the spring door bang shut. Mannie nudged Lew to silence.

"Howdy, Ma'am," he offered, as the redhead headed to her car. Mannie kept still, but his eyes darted furtively toward her as she got out again.

"She's coming back. Prepare yourself." Lew nodded soberly, suddenly alert, and tucked his thumbs inside his torn, faded blue jeans.

They waited, ready to defend themselves.

The redhead screwed on the gas cap and got back into her car, then drove off.

"You never know who she might have been, Lew." Mannie offered, his voice ice cold as he relaxed visibly. "Remember that. We all look different here, outside Illusion."

"I know, I know.” Lew sighed. “What's wrong with you, Mannie?" Lew inquired after a moment, catching the odd expression on the older biker's face.

"I never thought I'd see him again, Lew." Mannie said after a moment. "After all of this time, living here in the Land of Sorrows, he's still alive…"

"Why can't he just come back with us?" Lew wondered, mounting his motorcycle and revving the engine.

"You don't understand anything, Lew." Mannie rejoined, shaking his bald head. "The man you saw in there isn't Gwydion."

"But…"

"Just shut up and look out for customers."

"No one's coming, Mannie." Lew said in the kind of matter-of-fact tone an ignorant youth delivers best.

"All right." Mannie said, donning his helmet and vaulting a grit-caked boot over his seat, then revving up and taking off down the road, Lew following close behind. There was nothing for miles either way but dirt and scrub, unless one counted the nondescript one-street town somewhere off to the right. Then, suddenly, the hard tarmac gave way to softer ground. The sun disappeared in a kaleidoscope of color, as though Mannie and Lew were passing through a tunnel made out of rainbow. The motorcycles sputtered, and their engines went out.

They passed into a grey, chilling mist like the shadows that descend in the valleys of Alba in dark mid-winter; seconds later, Lew and Mannie suddenly emerged into the pale, other-wordly light of a primeval forest, astride two sturdy, overfed war horses.

"Liatha says we took our time in there," Lew laughed, leaning over to slap the smooth-haired, moist neck of his mount with overt affection. Lew pulled himself up and sat high in the saddle, then charged ahead recklessly down the path. He was a handsome youth with fair features, wearing the gilded armor of a knight of Annwfn, one of the kingdoms of Illusion, a vast stretch of wondrous land and rough sea sometimes called Hy-falga or Caer Wydyr. Behind him, the dark, grey-eyed warrior Mannie reined in his magnificent black mount, Galomiel, and drew a long dagger out to pierce a sack of Uncle Joe's Genuine Southern Fried Potato Chips.

Popping back the lid of a shiny can, he shook his head in resignation.

It was a long way to go just for a decent beer.

*****

"Put on the tube there, willya Franky?" Willis threw over his shoulder, bringing something from the gas station storage room, then deftly wove his way to the front register.

"Number four, sir," the waiting customer said.

"That'll be ten dollars even then, Ma'am." Willis returned politely, but the woman might as well have been invisible; Willis said no more to her. She was an outsider, not one of the locals from their small town.

The customer paid and left. Then a short, middle-aged woman in polyester clothes and too much gold jewelry and with short hair dyed an impossible shade of blond stepped to the counter.

"I got it the back for you, Mrs. Evans. We had just one left." Willis said graciously with a slow, unhurried kind of smile and produced a solitary package of Sure-Gel powder.

"Why thank you, Willis." Mrs. Evans returned the smile. "I just wouldn't know how to get my preserves to set without it. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll bring by a peach pie this afternoon!"

"That would be right good of you, Mrs. Evans." Willis said, ringing up the purchase. He waited politely as Mrs. Evans searched mightily in her change purse for a dime and two pennies.

"...and will be campaigning for his re-election this fall." The television droned. "The governor has gone down to Texas City today to talk with officials there about the chemical spill..."

"That McClintock doesn't know his age if you ask me." Mrs. Evans commented, looking across at the dusty television behind the counter. "Always jumpin' about like one of them wind-up toys."

"Go do something useful, Franky, and stop staring at that thing. I've got it taken care of here," Willis said. Franky shrugged and headed outside. "So, how's your lovely daughter? I hear she's thinkin' of going to some big old school up East. Couldn't stand them cold winters myself."

"She's probably dawdlin’ in the back somewhere." Mrs. Evans smiled. "Gwen, come and tell Mr. Branson where you're going to college this fall."

"Coming," a reluctant voice called. A slender girl with dark hair and huge green eyes appeared from behind an aisle recklessly swinging a Coke bottle; this gesture was the closest she would ever come to showing any outward sign of rebellion. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face with teeth white as linoleum.

"Ouch!" she called, limping suddenly. "What's this?" she said distractedly, looking down at the offending object on the floor.

"Did you lose a funny-looking ring, Mr. Branson?" she asked, standing up, turning it in her hand.

"Let's see it," Mr. Branson said, and she brought it over and smacked it down on the counter with a satisfying slap. The ring wasn't made of real gold, just cheap gold plate rubbing off in patches, with a funny red skull mounted in the center that had left an indentation in her soft, white hand.

"One of those bikers must have dropped it. You keep it dear."

Gwen shrugged noncommittally, looking about for Franky. With a dejected sigh, she realized he'd been sent outside. She was about to put the ring into her pocket to be lost for all time when she suddenly decided to look at it again.

Still ugly. She put it on her finger, pleased that it was completely out of place with the Capri pants and loafers her mother had bought her. She decided to go outside and find Franky, leaving her mother to go on about her decision to head up East. They made it sound as though leaving their small town was to drop off the face of the Earth.

Gwen could see Franky outside the window working over their car with a sponge coated in turtle wax. He was the reason she always came there with her mother. She'd long ago decided that Franky was the perfect man for her--ever since he gave her his favorite baseball cap four years ago.

Franky didn't look like an ordinary mechanic or gas attendant, despite the dirt and oily overalls. There was something very dignified about him. Franky wasn't afraid of anybody, or at least didn't allow himself to show it. The store had been having trouble with some hooligan bikers recently, but Franky had fended off a trio of them about a week ago. His hand was still bandaged from the incident, but Willis had expected Franky to defend the station at all costs. >From what Willis said, Franky had been the first to sense the trouble brewing. Willis hadn't even seen it coming when the bikers suddenly started demolishing the outside of the store with baseball bats.

Then two new bikers had shown up today. Gwen had ducked behind an aisle to watch in case there was another fight, but they seemed no more than itinerant Harley's Angels. Nothing had happened, to her supreme disappointment.

"I'm going outside, Mom," Gwen called; her mother nodded, still talking.

Gwen opened the spring door…

and stepped into a kaleidoscope of color.

*****

A minute later the spring door groaned wide.

"Say, Franky," Mrs. Evans called, heading toward the car. "Have you seen my daughter around here?"

Franky looked up, wiped his brow.

"No, Ma'am."

"She came out a minute ago."

"You're the first person I've seen, Ma'am."

"Well, now she's done it. I'll be late for my hair appointment."

*****

Up ahead on the path to the city of Arberth, Lew had reined in his horse.

"By the shadows!" he cried.

"What is it now, Lew?" Mannie called, polishing off his potato chips. After all night and all morning training the young Lew, son of his old friend Llew, in the ways of illusion magic, Mannie was eager to be home. That final stop at the gas station hadn't eased his appetite very much. Mannie had only thought to stop there as an afterthought, having brought in three renegades from the Land of Sorrows a week ago, three renegades he'd been hunting down for some time.

They had been easier to catch than some. There were many other renegades, however, who had made it to positions of power in the Land of Sorrows, refugees from the kingdoms of Illusion seeking their own glory, who had abused their power over the mortal people of the Land of Sorrows for more than a thousand years. They were the ones Mannie worried about.

Mannie's life had long been spent in bringing back those who used illusion to manipulate the people of the Land of Sorrows; he didn't care about the lesser exiles. Let them stay in the Land of Sorrows for all he cared if they enjoyed living there so much. No one believed them when they spoke of Illusion, anyway, and if they stayed long enough away from Illusion, they would eventually grow old and die.

Mannie was one of the best at manipulating the Illusion roads; he had been in and out of the Land of Sorrows so many times. Some of the other knights actually lived on the other side of Illusion, waiting, watching for signs of the Illusion-born making their moves on the world.

The only problem was in the Land of Sorrows there was no way to tell who was from Illusion and who was not; was the power of illusion greater than the reality it imitated? Didn't all roads inevitably lead to the Illusion, the other world?

Mannie was beginning to have his suspicions about the high-profile figure of man who called himself McClintock. No one from the Land of Sorrows stayed so young, and the renegade Dylan Medrawt had been missing for several years from the northern isle of Afalon...

"Stop cursing the shadows for your own mistakes," Mannie instructed belatedly.

"Mannie--I've lost an Illusion ring!"

Mannie said nothing for a long time.

"Well, it might not matter."

"Someone from the outside could find their way here, into Illusion, Mannie!" Lew cried, distraught. "And if they do, there's no telling where they might end up!"

"No, Lew. The othersiders don't know about Illusion." Mannie reminded him, tried to convince himself. "Even if someone finds your ring, I doubt they'll be able to use it." He hoped not, anyway. Why did Lew have to go and lose one of the ancient stones? He wanted to kick the youth off his horse for it, but Lew was the present King of Annuwn's great-grandson and the son of an old friend. He decided it wasn't worth it.

"I'll go back for it, Mannie."

"How? You don't know the path to that particular land. You'll never make it alone. You could end up wandering forever in the border lands."

"I was watching you, Mannie. I think I can find the road."

"Wait a moment, Lew." Mannie sighed. "I'll go with you."

"Mannie, I just thought of something." Lew sounded suddenly anxious.

"Yes?"

"What if Gwydion finds the ring?"

"I told you, he isn't--"

"But he is, Mannie." Lew insisted. "I sensed it about him. Anyone who has walked in Illusion smells of Eternal Spring, and the flowers of Achren--"

"That was just gasoline, Mannie."

"No!" Lew exclaimed, indignant. Even the King's Captain had said Lew's tracking nose was one of the best in the kingdom of Annwfn; it was one reason why the great warrior-magician Mannie had offered to teach him. Lew brightened with another thought. "Maybe he uses the gasoline to cover up who he is. No one can tell by looking, certainly, with the illusion cloak there, but if he is Gwydion of Achren, he'd have to try harder to conceal his identity."

"Listen to me, Lew, that man isn't Gwydion, not anymore." Mannie was getting tired of this argument.

"Mannie! You mean he really was?" Lew breathed. "But Mannie, no one at court knows he's alive! How can he be alive, if he hasn't returned to Illusion in all of this time? And to think, he would have been the King…"

"It doesn't matter, Lew." Mannie shook his head solemnly. "Once you have forgotten the way to Illusion, you can never go back. Gwydion is somewhere in the border lands, lost forever…"

"But…"

"Stop asking so many questions, Lew, and pay attention where you're going."

*****

Willis' Corner was gone. At least, the Willis' Corner she knew. Before the curtain of color descended, the familiar gas stop became a colorless silhouette of the same shape. Then it, too, faded into the kaleidoscope of color. Up ahead, Gwen could make out two shadowy figures on horseback, but they abruptly disappeared.

"What's happening?" Gwen thought to wonder. "Mother!" she thought instinctively, but of Mrs. Evans there was no sign. In that long silence, mists began circling about Gwen, blotting out the rainbow.

She took a blind step slightly off to the left…

*****

…and ended up sitting on a hill in the middle of a wide, rolling meadow. A long line of emerald trees lay to her right; above, puffy clouds drifted across the azure blue sky disinterestedly. Gwen collapsed on the impossibly green grass, afraid to go any further, and contemplated her surroundings. Where on Earth had she gone? And how had she gotten there? Man alive! It couldn't be possible for any place to be as beautiful as it was there. Wherever there was.

After some time, her eye strayed to the ring on her finger. To her surprise, the skull had vanished. In its place was a polished crimson stone with veins of silver running through it, set in a perfect arc of pure, heavy, gold. She was staring at the ring when a horse reared above her.

"Whoa, Duncan!"

"Be careful, Gwyn! There's a girl there! How many times have I told you not to go so fast?"

A beautiful woman and a fair-haired man with dark, almost reddish eyes sat on the wagon; both looked completely out of place in their modest peasant attire.

Gwyn sighed a sigh that was the product of long patience. "Look, 'Dila, no harm done. See, she's movin'," he added in rustic, pointing to Gwen.

"Excuse me," Gwen said, standing. "But where is this?"

"You're in Murron's field, dear," Gwyn said. "Yonder lies Neath's vale."

"Oh, I see. Murron's field," Gwen echoed, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Gwyn, that child has a strange accent, now don't she?" the woman whispered.

Gwen would have said the same about them.

"That she does, Ewrdila," Gwyn agreed. "But 'taint nothin' to those funny clothes. Why, she looks like she come from the Land of Sorrows."

"Pardon me, but where exactly is Murron's Field? Is it far from Willis' Corner? I'm not exactly certain how I ended up here…"

"Ah, an exile come home!" Ewrdila broke in excitedly. "Good for you, dear! So, you'll be needing a ride to Arberth, then, eh? It's a long way for young girls on foot, even those who use border magic."

Border magic? Gwen looked down at the ring on her finger. Could it really be magical? She had no time to wonder; Ewrdila and Gwyn were waiting for an answer. How else was she going to get home, though? And where was home? It would certainly be better to begin her search in the nearest city. Maybe there she could find a map and find a pay phone to give her mother a call, even though she wasn't particularly anxious to get back home.

"Yes, that's right." She said suddenly. "I'm headed to Arberth."

"Well, then just climb up in the back of the wagon, dear. There's plenty of room, but mind the milk bins." Gwen headed to the back and stepped up into the wagon; a moment later they were rolling down the hill toward the forest.

"So, how long you been away from Illusion?" The man called Gwyn said after a while.

"Where?" Gwen asked.

Gwyn and Ewrdila laughed, as one does at a ridiculous question. "This is Illusion dear, all around you," Ewrdila explained, gesturing.

"If she's forgotten about Illusion, it seems a mite strange she made it back here, now don't it, Ewrdila?" Gwyn said cheerfully.

"Now you leave her alone, Gwyn. She's a nice girl, and 'long as she come back, 'makes no difference as to how," Ewrdila said firmly. Gwyn rolled his eyes skyward, but at the same time there was an agreeable smile on his face.

They rode on a while, heading under the canopy of trees. "The forest of Achren is beautiful, isn't it? And this is just the southeast corner. It'll take you all the way to Arberth."

"Is it real?" Gwen asked in wonder.

"Real?" Gwyn echoed, not understanding her point.

"You said something about an illusion, earlier. This place looks too beautiful not to be--an illusion."

"What nonsense! There are no illusions in Illusion, dear," Ewrdila explained. "Why would we need any? Except, well--come with me." Ewrdila winked and hopped off the wagon, then led Gwen through the trees to a small pond.

"Take a look inside, dear, but be careful not to fall in! Still ponds run deep, as they say!" She added, laughing. Gwen stooped over the pond and peered down.

"There's a city in the water!" Gwen cried.

"Is that what you see, dear?" Ewrdila shrugged. "Well, the reflection is different for everyone, and different depending on where you're standing, on what pond you look in, and even where you are in Illusion. Mathonwy says it's the Land of Sorrows we see reflected, to remind us how fortunate we are to dwell here."

"What about the exiles, Ewrdila? Why did they leave then?"

"The exiles, yes," Ewrdila repeated distastefully. "I'd rather not talk about them."

"Which ones are they--the ones from Illusion?" Gwen asked, looking back at the streets full of people. Ewrdila leaned over for a look and smiled.

"'Can't tell, my dear."

"Oh."

"Come away, though, and we'll fix you something nice to eat. You must be hungry after that long walk. Our cottage isn't far."

*****

"Slow down, Lew!" Mannie called. The responsibility of protecting and guiding Lew still came as a shock to his own adventurous spirit. "The Land of Sorrows isn't going anywhere."

Lew reined in his horse and slowed, then drew back alongside Mannie.

"But Mannie, what happens if someone finds the ring and puts it on? We've got to hurry before they're lost in Illusion."

Mannie shook his head.

"More than likely a person would throw it away. It looked like junk, didn't it?"

"I suppose," Lew admitted.

"Well, we'll just dig it out of the trash when we get there."

"But what if it's already lost, Mannie?" Lew said.

"That will present a problem." Mannie agreed. "We may have to track it down. But let's worry about that when the time comes."

"I can't, Mannie," Lew said stubbornly. "I'll meet you at the turn-off!" He called back, charging away.

"Lew!" Mannie called after him. It would not do to wear themselves out, Mannie thought. The border lands were often dangerous, full of enemies from the other kingdoms of Illusion, from Tirnanog and Afalon, and exiles crossing great distances across the Land of Shadows by using border magic, full of others returning for new Illusion guises, plus a thousand or more helpless, often malevolent, wandering souls. Mannie had trapped his trio of renegades when they came through the border lands; the magic of the border lands was indeed strong, but it left travelers completely vulnerable. There, any one who knew the Illusion roads well could find who he was looking for in a matter of moments, as long as the other person still remembered his identity. The lost souls had no identity to draw those seeking them. Mannie knew that was why no one had ever found Prince Gwydion.

"Mannie!" Lew suddenly called from up ahead with a note of urgency in his voice.

Mannie kicked his heels into Galomiel and charged ahead. As he passed a forested hill and descended into an open valley, he spied Lew, lost in a field of color that marked the border lands, surrounded by more than half a dozen soldiers. There was no sign of Liatha. So, Mannie thought, Lew had found the turn-off without him after all! Unfortunately, however, trouble had been waiting for them.

The leader of the ambush was an Illusion exile, of course; only those from Illusion could lead othersiders into the border lands without Illusion rings. The other six were strangely attired, Mannie thought as he plunged ahead, noting their brown and green camouflage--didn't they know this attire was useless in the colored fields? No armor or anything, Mannie noticed, though the Illusion exile had had the good sense to warn them against bringing firearms into the border lands. Charges of weapons of that nature had a tendency to be lost in crossing into the region of magic, and more often ended up discharging bullets that ricocheted disastrously back to the owner.

As it turned out, the othersiders weren't very good with their swords, but one of them managed to get in a blow into Lew's side as Lew parried another; Mannie hurried ahead, his sword already drawn.

II.

"What would Governor McClintock want with you, Franky?" Willis wondered in his plain, uncomplicated way, never intending to be rude, though his question could have been taken as an insult.

"I don't know sir," Franky returned calmly, with an air of silent, reflective thoughtfulness about him that Willis always mistook for stupidity. "He says he needs a mechanic to accompany them on the road, in case his car breaks down again out in the middle of nowhere. They've got to make it to Texas City tonight."

"You're going?"

"Curiosity has gotten the better of me, sir." He shrugged, a secretive sparkle in his eye. "It seems they went a ways out of their way to pass through these parts if they were heading for Texas City," he reasoned, in rural Texas vernacular.

"‘Must have got lost," Willis concluded. "Well, Franky, I’ll miss you, but you know, your leavin's probably for the best." Franky could see that Willis was really trying to be gracious. "A man could do worse than to work for the governor."

"Perhaps." Franky didn't want to say that he didn't agree, but there was a reason McClintock had invited him to Texas City, and Franky was determined to discover it.

"You never did talk much like us though, did you Franky? Can't say as you haven't tried, though,” Willis laughed, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes. “Seems you never did belong here in this town, but I'm glad to have known you."

"You take care now, Willis," Franky said with a genuine affection, picking up a dirty knapsack and slinging it over his shoulder.

"I tell you it's a shame, Franky, what happened to the poor Evans girl, disappearing like that." Willis' old mind wandered to another track.

"Yes, sir." Franky stopped.

"It was good of you to visit Mrs. Evans after what the judge decided. That girl was sweet on you, you know…" Willis said, regarding Franky approvingly. Franky's eyebrows had drawn together in an expression of surprise. "Or, maybe you didn't," Willis added with a ghost of his usual laugh. "Poor Mr. and Mrs. Evans. They think whoever took Gwen'll give her back. But after two weeks, 'seems more'n likely…well, it doesn't do to talk about it."

"Yes sir."

"All right then, Franky. You'd best be going. Them fancy types ain't much on waitin'."

*****

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Willis eyed the two ragged bikers with interest and perhaps a hint of suspicion. They looked somewhat worse for wear.

"Yes, sir. A while back my brother and I were in here," the smaller one said, leaning on his right side as though he had but little use of his left arm. "You didn't happen to find something lying around when we left?"

"Can't say as I remember finding--what was it you said you lost?"

"It was a ring, sir," the other broke in impatiently. "It'd be nothing to you, but we don't like to lose it. It has--sentimental value?"

"Oh, well, let me see. Maybe Franky picked something up," the attendant said and pulled out a drawer full of key chains, toys, and other junk, then rifled through it slowly. “This it?" he asked, raising a plastic green thing, something from a Cracker Jack box.

"No," the big biker shook his head. "About this Franky, can we speak with him?"

"No, sir, that I'm afraid you can't." Willis shook his head slowly. "'Less you wanna go chase down the governor's car. Yessirree, Governor McClintock came right here, to this very place, and do you know why? Because Willis' Corner is the very best service money can buy in these parts." His smile was triumphant, unfettered. Willis had centered his life on his station for more years than Mannie cared to imagine.

"When did this happen?" the smaller biker asked.

"This morning. The governor came passing through on his way back down to Texas City and took Franky away with him."

The two bikers were very silent.

"That what you're missing?" the attendant said, pointing to the other rings on the smaller one's hand. "Looked like a red-eyed snake, didn't it?"

"Yes," the bikers said together.

"Well now, young Gwen found it as I recall," Willis said wistfully.

"And who is she, your daughter?" the big biker asked quickly.

"Gwen? No, she's Mrs. Evan's girl. Or was, poor thing."

"Was?" the bald biker echoed.

"Yes sir. Disappeared the very day she found it. We had manhunts all around these parts, but ain't no word yet 'bout her."

"Thank you very much, sir," the two bikers said in a hurry, dropping their local accents.

"You don't suppose--" Lew began as they came outside.

"She's in Illusion?" Mannie finished. "I think we have to assume she's there for the time being--safe or otherwise. Let's just hope she has the sense to head to Arberth."

"What are we going to do about McClintock? He didn't just come here for a mechanic, Mannie. Those were his goons that tried to keep us from leaving Illusion. That's why we were chased from one end of these parts to another, Mannie. McClintock has to know that he's found Gwydion and wanted to keep us from interfering. He'll be using Gwydion to keep all of Annwfn’s knights at bay while he makes his move on this world, whatever that is. And he might even find out where Gwydion has hidden Caladfwlch, the ancient sword of the true king of the Land of Sorrows--"

"Yes, Lew. For once, I fear you're actually right."

"So, are we going to find Gwydion and stop the governor?"

"You up to it, Lew? Maybe I should take you back to that hospital."

"No, I couldn't bear to be poisoned with that jellied infant food any longer, Mannie! Anyway, my shoulder's finally healing. I'll be fine."

"And your side? That othersider got in a good blow, Lew."

"As long as I don't move too quickly, I don't think it's likely I'll rip the stitches. Don't worry, I'll be all right. But, we'll be faster if we travel through Illusion, won't we?"

"No, Lew." Mannie sighed, shaking his head. "We'll travel through the Land of Sorrows. McClintock can't be far, and we can't risk going back through Illusion. If McClintock is who I think he is, he'll have mastered the magical pathways, and he'll have ample forewarning of our arrival if we try to cut our distance through Illusion. He'll certainly be expecting that kind of an attack. He may even have a hidden army waiting in the border lands around him."

"You think he used Illusion to find Gwydion?" Lew wondered.

"I think he used the border lands, yes," Mannie agreed, though it appeared he would have rather not. "Once he learned who and where Gwydion was, it must have been easy to find him here," Mannie added. "But if McClintock is who I think he is, he won't dare come back to Illusion itself in case the people of Afalon find out what he's planning. There are plenty of worthy Afalon knights who would love to know where he is.”

"Afalon knights?" Lew echoed, not understanding. "Why would they care about him?"

Mannie waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Never mind about that now. The ability to travel in the border lands is all McClintock needs to rely on to effectively make his move on this world. If we aren't careful, he'll disappear who knows where in the Land of Sorrows using them, and he'll have Gwydion with him this time."

"Mannie…"

"Yes, we can both imagine what that might mean. Gwydion has almost certainly lost his memory of Illusion, so we have to face the possibility that McClintock could even succeed in turning Gwydion against Annwfn."

"I see your point, Mannie," Lew said quietly, digesting this information.

"You do?"

Lew nodded. "It's time for new disguises."

*****

Gwen had never made it to Arberth. When she showed no sign of remembering anything about Illusion, Gwyn and Ewrdila, who also went by "Creiddylad", had insisted on taking care of her for a while and had let her stay with them at their cottage, Caer Tylwyth Teg.

Illusion was a strange place; Gwen had no doubts about it any more, but Illusion wasn't half bad, either, just a trifle plodding in that it offered her little excitement and turned out to be every bit as out of the way as Willis' Corner. Though Gwyn and Ewrdila didn't seem to have much to do apart from minor farming activities, neither did they seem to suffer from any want of comfort in their forest cottage. They had an assembly of queer iron cauldrons cluttering up the house. And sometimes at night, Gwen imagined she heard strange noises, echoing horns and hoofbeats like rolling thunder; most evenings she spent sitting by the fire, petting Gwyn's pack of silken-haired, red-eyed, ivory hounds as they lounged about the sitting room. Gwyn called the hounds the "Cwn Annwfn", whatever that meant. As much as she knew she should let her mother know where she was, Gwen enjoyed Gwyn and Ewrdila's company; at the same time, she had absolutely no intention of spending her twilight years with them.

"I really must get going to Arberth," Gwen insisted one evening after a week, or perhaps two. Time had lost something of its significance there.

"Now, dear? But it's nearly dinner time," Ewrdila objected, and there was no more arguing.

Then, later that evening, Ewrdila noticed the ring Gwen was wearing.

"My, Gwen," Ewrdila exclaimed, peering with her interest at her guest. "How did you get an Illusion ring?"

"An illusion ring?" Gwen had taken off the strange ring a while back, hoping that removing it might return her home--but to no avail. It had been almost an afterthought that morning when she put it back on.

"Oh, yes, there's no mistaking it," Ewrdila insisted. "Myrddin made only a handful of those that I know of, before the kingdoms of Illusion split from the world. Let's see, one was given to King Math, one to his kinsman Nudd, Gwyn's father, and one to his kinsman Bran. I don't know about the rings in Afalon, except one was given to Lady Gwyar, which passed to her son Medrawt. And King Finnbharr, Queen Oonagh, Oisin, Aonghus, Morrigan, an! d Midir of Tirnanog have one. Now Lew has two, and then--well I don't know about Mannie, I should say I don't know how many he has, for he has at least one for certain. Oh yes, and then Gwydion inherited one--such a shame, though, what happened to Gwydion."

"Who was Gwydion?" Gwen wondered. From the way Ewrdila spoke of him, she had the impression that he was someone important.

"Why, Gwydion was--an admirable man, noble in spirit and mind, which is a far more valuable quality than nobility of birth, though to be sure, he was the King's grandson," Ewrdila admitted. "He was there at the beginning, you know, when the holy messengers of the East came and broke the land of Illusion from the Land of Sorrows. But after a time," Ewrdila said, her voice falling to a whisper, "Gwydion grew discontented exiled in Illusion. He vowed--but no, I can't say."

"What, Dila?! " Gwen's eyes widened. Ewrdila smiled secretively, a tight, melancholy kind of smile.

"Gwydion proclaimed that Illusion was nothing, that we couldn't live without the Land of Sorrows, or that to live in Illusion was to live a life without purpose. He vowed never to return to us. It was that which broke him from our society forever."

"What happened to him?"

"Since that time, I believe he has dwelt in the border lands and in the Land of Sorrows, without a true identity." Ewrdila nodded soberly. "Well, sometimes I imagine I see him on the other side. But, having forsaken Illusion, he has no doubt forgotten his memories of this world, and so of course he cannot find the road back. He is lost to us, my dear. The only one of the ancients who can never return."

"Ewrdila?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Where was it you last thought you saw him?"

"I'll show you, if you'd like."

Gwen nodded, and they went outside to the Illusion pool. Ewrdila moved to a particular spot, adjusting the image until a satisfied smile broke over her face.

"There."

"Oh, I think that's Central Park, in New York City!" Gwen said. "What was he doing there?"

"I don't know, dear. None of it made any sense to me."

"Ewrdila, do you mind if I stay out here a while? I'd like to try to figure out how this mirror works." Ewrdila nodded and withdrew, leaving Gwen to look for news of home.

What had happened to Franky? Gwen wondered. She sat by the pool well into the night, sifting through images, with little control over what she saw.

Then, hours later, she finally found him.

But what was he doing with all of those soldiers?

*****

"What say we dispense with the illusions?" one of a pair of greasy-handed mechanics asked the other, standing on a scraggly field just off a gravelly, orange-colored dirt road. The two of them stood back to back within a ring of about a dozen soldiers dressed in fatigues. Then the other, smaller man nodded, and the two forms darkened to shadows.

A moment later the shadows were gone, and two knights straight out of a bardic tale stood in their place.

A figure in a black suit directed the charge against them; the soldiers sallied forth at his order, brandishing guns and knives. Behind him some distance, Franky was leaning against a black limousine someone had pulled off the road, still wearing the oily overalls Gwen remembered.

The figure in black nearby looked to be a man about forty in impeccable shape, with white hair about his temples and eyes like dark coals.

"That's Governor McClintock!" Gwen said, recognizing him. But what were those two knights doing there in her world?

"Ah, but that can only be Mannie-- and young Lew with him!" A voice said from behind. Gwen looked over her shoulder; Ewrdila was standing above her.

"I didn't hear you coming," Gwen said, almost jumping.

"I thought I'd come see what kept you."

"You seem suddenly upset, Ewrdila." Gwen realized, watching Ewrdila closely.

"Mmm," Ewrdila agreed soberly. "Mannie is Arberth's greatest warrior and enchanter, but I doubt even he will be able to fend off so many of the dark knights cast out of Afalon."

"Ewrdila--you mean those men surrounding them?" Gwen pointed to the dozen more warriors that had recently appeared around the soldiers; the circle of knights all bore swords and shields. "But they haven't attacked yet. I thought they were part of the other army--Mannie's army."

"No, dear," Ewrdila shook her head. "You see them around the battlefield because you are in Illusion, but they aren't there, in the Land of Sorrows, yet. They're waiting in the border lands, waiting to attack. They're Medrawt's men--that Medrawt, always stirring up trouble!"

Gwen's face paled, becoming even whiter than usual. "But--what's going to happen to Franky?" she thought, angry and helpless, watching him. Why was he just standing there?

*****

"Ah, Mannie, my old friend," McClintock purred from a safe distance when the handsome, dark-eyed warrior finally emerged from his illusion cloak. "I thought that might be you under those smelly rags. Trying to thwart me, as usual?" he laughed dismissively. "You'll find that more difficult this time. You should have retired years ago, old man," he added after a moment.

Mannie bristled; however, he was too preoccupied to respond to the insult in kind.

A moment later, McClintock raised his hand into the air and traced an arc; his hand drew a curtain of night around them, giving his well-trained soldiers the advantage. Then at another gesture, the air was full of shrieking griffins, illusions come to life in the Land of Sorrows, for there, every image had the power of what was real.

"No!" Gwen called, watching from above the pool of still water. As one of the griffins descended near Franky, she took a breath and leaped head first into the image in the pool…

*****

…and landed in the middle of the ba! ttlefield.

Beth sy'n digwydd? What's happening? Franky wondered, staring blankly at the field of soldiers and shrieking griffons straight ahead. What was he doing there?

Pwy ydw I... Who am I? The thought kept running through his mind, but behind it was nothing. Not even an echo of memory called to him through the blank fog in his head. He didn't remember anything, anything at all, except that the man who owned the car he was leaning against had brought him here and said to wait by the vehicle until he called for him. Why should he listen, though? He wondered to himself. He didn't feel like going anywhere.

He heard a shuffling sound far off to his left and turned, now staring at the long-legged girl brazenly heading straight toward him from the edge of the dusty field, heading toward him almost as though she knew who he was...

Pwy yw'r ferch na gyda'r gwallt hir, du?... he thought, wondering who this dark-haired girl was making frantic, unintelligible signs at him as she picked her way over a scraggly ditch and toward the cars.

He blinked a few times, then came to himself suddenly.

"Gwen, what are you doing here?" Franky managed to ask, coming out of a magically-induced torpor, but he had more than returned to his old self; yes, he remembered Gwen, he thought, but now he also recalled further back than the quiet life he had led working at Willis' Corner...

Franky watched the intrepid girl, shaking his head disparagingly as Gwen ducked between two soldiers hurrying past her. Then she headed over to the car, glancing back a moment in curiosity as she heard the death throes of some giant creature behind her; Mannie and his companion had hewn two of the flying beasts, and the others had retreated momentarily to safe distance, perching on a nearby telephone pole. "You should get out of here, Gwen!" Franky advised, a trifle concerned, a trifle amused by her behavior.

"But McClintock's about to kill Lew and Mannie!" Gwen protested, panting, pointing over toward the battle. "He's got warriors waiting in Illusion!"

"Mannie?" Franky repeated as though that name meant something to him.

"You know him?" Gwen asked, confused; Franky's eyes sparkled with a new blaze of knowledge, the rekindled flame of his memory.

Yes, he remembered him. He remembered it all now.

*****

"Franky, come give my men a hand! Franky!" McClintock called desperately, watching as the tried warrior Mannie dispatched several of his soldiers and then faded into the border lands when others brought their guns to bear on him. "Franky!" McClintock screamed in alarm, as the last soldier threw up his gun and fled over the hills under Mannie's and Lew's advance.

When Franky stayed his ground, McClintock brought his arm down sharply, a gesture that drew in his army of Illusion mercenaries and renegades.

"Stay back, Gwen," Franky ordered over by the cars as he watched the swarm descend from the border lands. "These knights are more dangerous than the soldiers. And keep your eyes closed. If you close their magic illusions off from your senses, any illusion creatures they summon can't hurt you."

"Where are you going?" Gwen demanded, looking to Franky, but all at once the Franky she knew, oily overalls and all, was gone. In his place stood a tall, fair-haired warrior with eyes green as the sea. His mail glittered with a silver light, and the long, light, hard-dinted blade Caladfwlch was in his hand.

"I am going to save Manawyddan. My nephew... and my oldest friend," he vowed, then without another word strode decisively down the hillside.

As she looked ahead to the battle, Gwen smiled appreciatively. The silver figure appeared among the dwindling circle of warriors and cut through them like a wildfire sweeping over the Texas underbrush.

"So," McClintock's voice interrupted the warrior as McClintock drifted down from his perch; the governor narrowed razor-sharp eyes on Gwydion. "I see you have put aside your protective shadows, Gwydion."

"Yes, Medrawt, I have, just in time to defeat you again," Gwydion flashed a smile that promised he intended to do so.

McClintock winced.

"But has your sword grown rusty in a thousand years, I wonder, dear uncle?" Medrawt sneered in a new, honey-tongued voice, the voice that was truly his own, as the guise of the governor faded away to reveal a dark-eyed, rugged warrior beneath, a warrior with shoulder-length, uneven hair like a crow's wing and a suit of obsidian armor.

"Is that really Gwydion and McClintock?" Lew cried to Mannie in wonder, marveling at the true visages of the pair while sidestepping another blow from the brawny renegade facing him. In a moment, the fair warrior in silver gilt clashed swords with the agile Medrawt, the rebellious son of Gwyar, Gwydion's sister; Gwydion's eternal foe, Medrawt, was a hard-hearted, obsessive man who had long harbored designs of usurping Gwydion's mantle of glory. Now, Medrawt's bone-white face and blood-dark lips slowly cracked a mocking, ice-edged smile.

A thin smile also broke over Mannie's lips as he watched the deft skill of the swordsmen with growing delight. Suddenly, he laughed, laughed hard, surrendering his hardened solemnity to the wind. "Can't you see, Lew?" He cried, his eyes shining with new faith and with the old fire that thrived on magical adventures and glory rekindled. Gwydion, his companion throughout years of quests and famine, throughout battles and adventures before Caer Wydyr ever became the land of Illusion, broken off from the natural world, the Land of Sorrows. "Gwydion of Ynys Wair has returned at last!" He cried triumphantly.

*****

The Illusion warriors surrounding Gwydion, Mannie, and Lew had been well-chosen; at some point in the battle, Gwen stubbornly appeared, clumsily wielding one of the fallen warrior's swords, but Gwydion didn't have time to stop her from joining the battle. Gwydion also recognized some of the renegade exiles in passing; former members of the Annwfn royal court a few of them, while others had once been part of Afalon's army. Memories rushed back to Gwydion of the ones he had known and once liked as he cast off his recent identity; other adversaries he remembered with less favor. But Gwydion brushed the recollections aside for now, plunging decisively over the field, his sword parrying the swift-footed Medrawt.

Many of the mercenaries didn't even have the sense of honor to leave the contestants to fight fairly. One of the mercenaries conjured an illusion to distract Gwydion; a writhing, two-headed serpent with the hind legs of a lion closed the ground between Gwydion and his side opponent. Gwydion turned and sliced with his sword, drawing upon border magic to weaken the creature that had probably once been a common garden snake in the fields around Arberth.

The blade sliced through the poor creature. In a moment it was lost in the border lands, leaving the way clear.

For a long time Gwydion and Medrawt parried over the rising slope of ground, as Lew, Mannie, and even Gwen dispatched the Illusion mercenaries. Then, at a critical point, Medrawt made a move to lunge with his sword; Gwydion did not miss his chance and deftly flipped Medrawt's blade up and into the air. It sailed several feet away, well beyond the range of the cunning knight.

Gwydion's silver blade wavered. Long ago, he had been given the reason and opportunity to deal with his nephew Dylan Medrawt; then, as now, he found his sword far too heavy to end the life of his beloved sister's son. Gwydion hesitated with a sense of chivalric duty, long enough for Medrawt to escape. Medrawt stumbled back a few steps, his eyes flashing with an outrage than can only turn to hatred.

Gwydion spared a moment to check on Mannie, Lew, and the dusty, exhausted figure of Gwen; Mannie's blade had dealt with another bronze-feathered griffon while the young Lew still fended off a wyvern. Gwydion and Mannie rushed in to aid him; they then turned to their foes.

The Illusion warriors were trying to conjure more opponents when Gwydion, Mannie, and Lew let forth some of their own: with a single bellowing cry, a pack of ivory hounds with red-tipped ears engulfed the Illusion warriors. Some of the Illusion mercenaries struggled to shield themselves; others sought to run, but before any of them could tear away from the magical hunting hounds, they found themselves facing the swords of Gwydion, Mannie, and Lew.

Two mercenaries fell before the others fled into the border lands.

*****

As the last of his army retreated, Medrawt clambered to his feet where he had watched his hopes of conquest dwindle. He quickly brushed the dust from his fine armor and brushed the locks! of sweat-soaked hair from his shining, coal-black eyes. Then he turned to Gwydion and Mannie.

"This isn't done, Gwydion," he vowed, slowly, with a dark edge to his voice. "I will claim Caladfwlch from you, uncle, count on it. But I shall not show you the mercy you showed me, so be prepared to face me again. Caladfwlch and the Land of Sorrows will be mine." Delivering one final, evil-eyed glare, Medrawt then turned and stalked away toward his limousine, re-cloaking himself in the guise of the Texas governor; in a moment, he had disappeared.

"Medrawt has never learned when to cut his losses." Mannie shook his head.

Lew burst out laughing; they all shared his laughter, wondering what Medrawt would think if he could hear them.

"I'm sorry I left you alone to deal with the likes of him all of these years," Gwydion said after a moment; Mannie !refused to hear any of it.

"I suspect you haven't been idle through them." Mannie said graciously. "And what of Myrddin, where has that old wizard been sleeping these past thousand years, hmmm?” he asked rhetorically, then shook his head. “Believe me, I understand, Gwydion. Each of us must do what we have to do--in Illusion, or anywhere else."

"Gwydion," Lew said quietly after a while, pausing to whistle to Liatha. The horse trotted from behind the far hill. "Will you return with us to Arberth?"

Gwen and Lew looked at Gwydion expectantly; Mannie said nothing, his face deliberately blank. For a time, Gwydion seemed to be considering the idea.

"No," Gwydion shook his head at last. "I'm going to remain here. The Land of Sorrows needs me and Illusion doesn't." He shrugged. "Besides, we may have seen the last of McClintock, but Medrawt will try again--in a different guise, as he has for the last thousand years. And there are others as honorless as him who would try to rule a land that is no longer ruled by warriors or defended by magic spells.”

“I can’t change your mind, then?" Mannie asked in his most persuasive tone.

Gwydion's face broke a reminiscent smile. "No, Manawyddan, you crafty fox. I’d like to go with you, but I won’t. Besides, if memory serves,” he smiled, “the last time I listened to you, we both ended up prisoners on the Isle of Glass…"

"That wasn't my fault," Manawyddan started to object amiably but stopped, with a sidelong glance at Gwen.

"I admit, I do miss all of our old adventures together," Gwydion resumed, "but if you need me, you and Lew can always find me here now…”

“Well then, there should be plenty of opportunity again to spin the stuff of new songs and legends for the people of Illusion, is that it?” Mannie laughed. "You seem to be back to your old self, Gwydion."

Gwydion nodded. “I am, I think.” He sighed. "It's difficult to imagine, isn't it, but I had forgotten it all--all about Illusion." Gwydion laughed, his thoughts drifting back to the recent past. "For years I would go to the border lands to cloak myself in a new illusion, but every time I left the borders, I forgot what I had been before. I think I was beginning to remember a little, though. Even self-fashioned enchantments have a way of expiring at the right moment."

"So, you wanted to reclaim your identity, then," Mannie deduced. “Bit by bit, that helped you to remember who you were.”

Gwydion tried to suppress a self-conscious smile and failed. "You’re right, old friend! Long ago, I tried too hard to escape Illusion. But Illusions, dreams, they're inescapable, and I think I'll stop trying so hard to escape them. There's a reason for them, I'm beginning to think. After all, Illusion and reality are equally powerful."

"Well, I liked Franky," Gwen interjected suddenly, in her very blunt manner.

"Ah, but he didn't really exist," Gwydion rejoined, turning to her with a genuine laugh.

“He did to me,” Gwen insisted. Gwydion laughed again, pleased in some way.

Then Gwydion grew sober and stared at her, pondering. “What will we do about you, Gwen? You're a part of Illusion now, like it or not."

Lew and Mannie nodded; Manawyddan tucked a thumb under his chin, his first finger knuckle set against his lip in an expression of contemplation.

"But--don't you want your ring back?” Gwen asked skeptically, turning to Lew and yanking off the Illusion ring she had found in Willis’ corner.

“You can keep it,” Lew said generously, shrugging. “I have another one. But if you're going to be tagging along," he added, putting on superior airs, “someone is going to have to teach you to use a sword properly."

Manawyddan tried very hard not to laugh.

But Gwen nodded eagerly, suppressing a ridiculous grin that was working its way onto her face. "As long as Gwydion and Mannie will teach me how to manipulate Illusion, too," she added.

"You'll have to pick a better disguise this time, Gwydion." Mannie warned, turning his attention to Gwydion as the sun abruptly darkened, and they passed through into a rainbow of color. The mist surrounding Illusion lay before them. "Now that you've been discovered, you won't be safe here. There are plenty of exiles who would steal Caladfwlch and fashion themselves into a king."

"I know, I know," Gwydion conceded reluctantly. "Well then, my friend, I'll be keeping an eye out for you, whenever you return to the Land of Sorrows," he said a moment later.

"We'll meet up again. Sooner rather than later, I hope," Mannie said, with a roguish wink. "Farewell," he added seriously, clasping hands with Gwydion. "May you find what you're looking for, Gwydion, son of Don."

"Thank you, Manawyddan, old friend," Gwydion returned, with an appreciative half-smile.

"For what?"

"For helping me take the first step."

Fin.

“Exiled >From Illusion” is loosely based on Celtic Mythology of the Otherworld. Here is a brief glossary of the characters and terms used:

Caladfwlch: the original name of Caliburn, or Excalibur

Caer—a fort

Creiddylad—a woman from Welsh legend

Cwn Annwfn—“the hounds of the otherworld”

Gwydion--son of Don, nephew of King Math, and a powerful magician and warrior of Welsh heroic legend; later adapted to be Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot

Gywn ap Nudd—a legendary figure of the Welsh myths, one of the rulers of the Otherworld, and a master of the Cwn Annwfn

Lleu Llaw Gyfes—Llew of the Skilled Hand, a renowned warrior in Welsh and Irish mythology

Medrawt—a figure of Welsh legend, later adapted to Sir Mordred

Myrddin—“Merlin”

© 2002 by A. F. Spackman. A. F. Spackman was hired to teach writing science fiction and fantasy at the MMC Writing Center at Marymount Manhattan College in NYC. Spackman's short story, "Alien Reincarnation in Midtown Manhattan" has appeared in the Dec edition of "Steelcaves" e-zine.