It is not hard to see, on the part of those who delight in feasting their eyes on graphic novels at least, that this is a totally new experience compared with reading a book or looking at a painting, for example. And we should carefully note that it is not the word ‘read’ that has been used in this context. Thus, there is a need to develop a fundamentally different method of discussing comics, as Julia Round has explained. The unit of the narrative in a comic strip is the panel. This represents a new hybrid sign which unites literary aspects with visual ones. In the panel, which uses a highly stylized aesthetic, space represents time, creating out of no-where a fantastic world based in fictional truth where everything is always mutable. All these characteristics contribute to fashioning a hyper-reality where the narrator of the story is a character in it. It also confuses the objective pictorial viewpoint of the viewer, and his sense of identity on top of that, since he cannot differentiate consciously between his situation in the real world during his experience, and what is happening in the simulation of reality which is created in the comic book. He becomes a contributing author who has input into the narrative, and it is he who fills in important gaps, providing alternative interpretations for the story.
In the comfort of the flying bed (although it's not flying at the moment), under the quilt with its monstrous images, by torchlight, our little David (although he’s a spotty teen-ager full of hormones now) just loves reading his favourite comics inspired by the ancient and strange legends of the Guild of Secrets. Mamrick (‘The Shadow’) of the White-land is the author, and there are terrifyingly beautiful illustrations by Grossmann (‘The Viking’) who comes from the idyllic town of Aberdydd across the Great Grey Sea. The Old Soldier, that funny man whose eyes are always sparkling, who’s like a friendly, clever Uncle, has been bringing them to him. The young protégé’s been looking forward to the visits so keenly, because the comics are so great, and really, he’s been leaning so much about magic from the peripatetic story-teller and the graphic novels (to give them their correct name).
He doesn’t know what is his favourite thing, what with all the ceremonies, and slaying, and going to the Nw Yrth, and the poetic swearing, and the strange languages, and Oh, those pictures of talking tombs, and blue towers, and the mutant baby! But perhaps the best thing is all those explosions. By Wezir (who’s one of the most important characters, by the way), David wants to be a Wizard when he grows up! And here's the beginning of the story –
"Millennia ago, Lugal-mach, the old astrologer, a member of the Ubaid people, unearthed the sacred books called ‘Dingir Gal-gal-ngu-ne-ra’ (that is, 'For All the Great Gods') in the ruins of the fabled city of Eridu. These had been sent to Earth during the dawn of the red moon, when order and disorder were separated on the Nw Yrth by the servants of the Seven Seraphic Sorcerers. They intended to tempt inquisitive human beings, individuals who were keen to learn secrets of all kinds, desiring to get to know how to wield power, control other people, and influence the course of events. And from staring at the pages containing so much unbelievable information, the seeker would see images materializing all around him…
“And he would feast his eyes on multi-coloured moving pictures of what has been, what is, and what could be. But it is not the things that will be without a doubt which would be shown, we must emphasize, but rather the most likely outcomes according with the desires of the watcher. As a result of the shocking revelations Lugal-mach experienced whilst reading the living symbols, it came to pass that he did several things. The first of them was to forge a two-edged sword blessed with an ancient hex in Sumerian, which runs: 'That is not dead which can eternal lie; And with strange aeons even Death may die,’ and he infused it with his own blood…
"Then, terrifying to relate, it was necessary for him to immolate himself in fire, in order that he might be reborn in the form of a miraculous babe, so that, finally, having matured and endured a number of trials, he could cross the void to the Nw Yrth in the form of a handsome young man. And now I, Sorakados the Prince, have succeeded in discovering the secrets of my inheritance, although first of all I had to stare for hours into the oily rainbow that swirled on the black face of my scrying-glass whilst meditating about the ancient book. By doing this, and waiting, chanting, I came realise that it is I who am the old astrologer, my name meaning ‘Sorcerer’ in the original language of the Nw Yrth, and that I shall need to follow the trail of Lugal-mach…
“And so, I prepared to travel straight to the Nw Yrth, where I would wander yonder and anon, spying on every thing which the multifarious inhabitants did, whilst tasting pleasures unheard-of. But I knew that I would stay there for ever if it were not for the wand inscribed with runic letters, red and powerful, which would allow me to return unscathed to the Earth, on a flying bed with the wings of a white eagle. And in this matter I would be like some other renowned Magus who wore a grey mantle to start with, which turned blazing white after he came back to life having been killed by a flaming demon...
“And four tokens I took to aid me on the journey, in order to pay tribute and assuage the guardians who are to be found there. For there would be challenges to be faced at the gatepost between the Two Worlds, on the shore of the Tearful River, at the threshold of the City of the Ziggurats, and in the Bejewelled Forest. And so, I had a bead as blue as the eyes of an unborn babe in the womb; a stone as black as the sin of the whole Earth, from the House of Rebirth; a seed as green as the plankton in the Great Grey Sea that’s always laughing at the futility of the human race; and a feather as white as the wind, plucked from the flank of a Winged Serpent…
"Moreover, I was carrying in my hands two rag-dolls to be a sacrifice if there were need; and like a dead man, I transported two coins in my mouth as a present for the Avaricious Watchers. In my belt, fastened with a golden buckle, there was the magical sword. About the weird vistas, I had been warned beforehand by the images. And indeed, I saw a lame man driving a mule loaded with possessions, and riches, and parchments; an old woman weaving the fate of humanity on a massive loom of bone; and a dead man drowning in the river between the realms of being and non-being. And there was I also, on the boundary between living and dying, between the Earth and the Nw Yrth. And despite all the eerie sounds – the bones crunching; the insects constantly chirruping, chep-er, chep-er, chep-er, the jackals howling at the marauding ravens – I went straight past them...
"I have walked in the wake of the shooting star, whilst skirting the deepest cesspits of the Other World. I have journeyed down the Glass Mountain, following the River of Tears towards the Bloody Sea at night. I have descended into the belly of the Serpentine Monster that lives there, which transported me to the Southern Continent. And in the end I have broken through the main gate of the City of Seven Ziggurats into the Netherworld beyond. And here I foretell and declare what shall happen from now on…
"Here in the middle of the forest of columns of amber inlaid with jet-stone, amongst the unattended piles of diamonds and emeralds, rubies and sapphires, the countless shades of the dead and gone will surge around me silently, bringing their gifts: an unblemished ewe, a black rooster, a white cat, and a perfect ram. But I shall not need such offerings...
"I shall dance with the most ancient, loveliest, temptress, Tefnuth, the Goddess who was abandoned by her sweetheart when she was about to give birth to their child. She shall be decked in a gown of black silk, white gloves, and a red turban. And I shall whisper sweet nothings in her ears, such as, 'On the wild wind you fly, between this world and the other. From the twilight realm, you see from your perch, the trials of the quick; and the wake of the dead.' And without the least shadow of a doubt, her mad horses shall bring to me the spirit of my Mother the Queen, who was sent to death before her time by her Husband, my Father the King. And then I shall be able to bring my Mother back to life…
“Moreover, I shall commune with Hebé, the unruly essence of love and vengeance and offer her golden rings so that she may protect a certain girl who is to be wife to me when I return. It is she who is bearing a baby whose soul is a pearl of great price, compared with the all others which are as grubby as the Hell-hounds' kennels, and this Son, the powerful one to come, shall inherit all the glory of the kingdom in due course…
"At this point, by my own doing, I shall sacrifice the other on the altar of the self, draped with purple velvet, exchanging one life for the whole creation. Through the power of my words I shall annihilate all that was made in the Two Worlds, leaving only the green buds of regeneration amidst the grey ruins of destruction. After this my desire and my will shall become one with each other, and the creator shall unite with his making. Thus, shall I shall fashion a new world, in which truth blows hither and thither on the wind of my imagination. And then, at that time, shall I ascend to glory!"
These are enchanting words, of course, and Sorakados was speaking from the heart. And having read the accursed book in the way described above, he believed that he had learned everything to be had from it. But despite that which would have been, the Sorcerers had tempted him to the Nw Yrth on false pretences. The tale of his downfall is long and painful to relate, let alone to hear. But only the following need be said here. A soon as he finished his presumptuous soliloquy before the chief gate of the City of the Seven Ziggurats, a cruel wind arose, and swept the Prince away.
While he was in the talons of the storm, he was forced to fight against a host of dread creatures, including a pack of voracious, rabid dogs, with bodies as white as the chalk in some devilish teacher’s torture-chamber, eyes as blue as those of the House of Rebirth in the middle of the red desert, and ears more ginger than the flames that shall singe the Earth to a cinder when the Sun dies in the incredibly far future. Next, he slew the majority of the flock of wild, vampiric horses, each one of which had eight legs like in the old tales of the Norsemen, and was biting, and stamping, and trampling, and whinnying as if the Two Worlds were at an end. And then he was dropped, almost naked, and covered in blood and bruises, amongst an enormous forest of pines in which there were otherworldly creatures of every kind, and shape, and size. which would eventually set upon him terribly.
And in the real world (if such it can be called), in the wobbly bed, our heroic lad, David, imagines journeying to other worlds, living other lives. On every side he hears Hebé the spectral grey mare neighing without restraint, and her eye sockets are balls of fire, and her bony body leaps as if it were made of quicksilver. But then he is sorely disappointed to learn about the demise of Sorakados in a flaming bonfire after being tricked by Swtach, servant to the Sorcerers.
But despite that, David dreams and desires with all his might that he could escape, and go there, to feast his own eyes on the wonders of the Nw Yrth. And there he would fight against Tefnuth, Mistress of the Dead, in her speechless dominion full of wealth and luxury that are of no worth to anyone there, but this time the mortal would win and claim the appropriate prize. Of course, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride, but in general, the world does not conform to a man's will, no matter how powerful are his thoughts, does it? But, having said that, magical powers are different, and there's always room to hope, isn't there? And in fact, with such a desire, a gate opens for the Fairest, and Most Deadly, Goddess to come though.
And so, one night, he tries so hard to play the part of brave but foolhardy Sorakados in the Other World, in order to rescue his poor Mam, his tortured angel, who almost died while bringing him into the world, and drag her back from beyond the grave. And that minute when his blood spills in silent fury into the cheap brass goblet he's pinched from the junk-shop, it feels like the mocking darkness has been torn open by a peal of thunder sufficient to split his head open. Everywhere, there's an ultraviolet glow and a stench of ozone, and some inhuman guffawing echoes through the smelly bedroom. But then, nothing. Perhaps the silly boy should've known that no-one can call a spirit back to life from the grip of the Grim Reaper. And the inconsolable lad cries himself to sleep once again, this time in a bloody bed, while some portion of his magical power disappears from within him. And on top of that, this is when two of the Savage Sorcerers come into David’s life.
Nid anodd gweld, o ran y rhai sydd yn ymbleseru yn boddio’u llygaid ar nofelau graffig o leiaf, mai profiad hollol newydd yw hwn o’i gymharu â darllen llyfr neu edrych ar baentiad, er enghraifft. Ac fe ddylem nodi’n astud nad y gair ‘darllen’ a ddefnyddiwyd yn y cyd-destun hwn. Felly mae rhaid datblygu dull gwahanol yn ei hanfod o drafod comics, fel mae Julia Round wedi esbonio. Yr uned i’r naratif mewn stribed comic yw’r panel. Mae hwn yn cynrychioli arwydd hybrid newydd sydd yn cyfuno agweddau llenyddol â rhai gweledol. Yn y panel, sydd yn defnyddio estheteg dra arddulliedig, mae gofod yn cynrychioli amser, gan greu o ddim fyd ffantastig wedi’i seilio ar wirionedd ffuglennol lle mae popeth yn y pair bob amser.Bydd y nodweddion hyn i gyd yn cyfrannu at lunio gor-realiaeth lle y bydd traethydd y stori’n gymeriad ynddi. Bydd hefyd yn drysu safbwynt darluniadol gwrthrychol y gwyliwr, a’i synnwyr hunaniaeth ar ben hynny, gan na all wahaniaethu’n ymwybodol rhwng ei sefyllfa yn y byd go iawn yn ystod ei brofiad, a’r hyn sydd yn digwydd yn efelychiad dirwedd a grëir yn y llyfr comics. Bydd yn dod yn awdur cyfrannol a chanddo fewnbwn i’r naratif, ac efe fydd yn llenwi bylchau pwysig, gan ddarparu dehongliadau amgen i’r hanes.
Yng nghysur y gwely hedegog (er nad yw’n hedfan ar hyn o bryd), o dan y cwilt ac arno ddelweddau o angenfilod, wrth olau tortsh, bydd ein David bach ni (er fod e’n llanc plorynnog llawn hormonau yn ei arddegau bellach) yn dwlu ar ddarllen ei hoff gomics wedi’u hysbrydoli gan chwedlau hynafol a hynod Urdd y Cyfrinachau. Mamrick (‘Y Cysgod’) o’r Wlad-wen yw’r awdur, ac mae darluniau arswydus o brydferth gan Grossmann (‘Y Ficing’) sy’n hanu o dref Aberdydd dros y Môr Mawr Llwyd. Mae’r Hen Filwr, y dyn doniol ‘na a’i lygaid yn pefrio bob tro, sy fel Wncwl clyfar, cyfeillgar, wedi bod yn dod â nhw ato fe. Mae’r noddedig ifanc wedi bod yn edrych ymlaen at yr ymweliadau mor frwd, achos bod y comics mor wych, ac yn wir mae ‘di bod yn dysgu cymaint am hud gan y cyfarwydd teithiol (dyna’i eiriau ei hunan, cofiwch chi) a’r nofelau graffig (a rhoi iddyn nhw eu henw cywir).
Dyw e ddim yn gwybod be’ yw’i hoff beth, rhwng yr holl seremonïau, a lladd, a mynd i’r Nw Yrth, a’r rhegi barddonol, a’r ieithoedd estron, ac O, y lluniau ‘na o feddi siaradus gyda thyrrau gleision, a’r baban o fwtant! Ond falle'r ffrwydradau i gyd yw’r peth gorau, ond eto i gyd, dyna’r creaduriaid arallfydol sy eisiau cymryd y Ddaear drosodd, heb sôn am y Cyfanfyd oll. ‘Neno Wezir (sy’n un o’r cymeriadau mwya’ pwysig, gyda llaw), mae David eisiau bod yn Ddewin pan fydd yn tyfu lan. A dyma ddechrau’r stori –
"Filenia yn ôl, fe ddatguddiodd Lugal-mach, yr hen sêr-ddewin, aelod o’r genedl Ubaid, lyfrau sanctaidd o’r enw ‘Dingir Gal-gal-ngu-ne-ra’ (hynny yw, ‘Ar gyfer Fy Nuwiau Mawr Oll’), yn adfeilion dinas chwedlonol Eridu. Roedd y rhain wedi cael eu danfon i’r Ddaear yn ystod gwawr y lleuad goch, pan ddidolwyd trefn oddi wrth anrhefn ar y Nw Yrth gan weision y Saith Swynwr Seraffaidd. Roedden nhw’n bwriadu denu bodau dynol chwilfrydig, unigolion oedd yn awyddus i ddysgu cyfrinachu o bob math, gan ddymuno cael gwybod sut i drin pŵer, rheoli pobl eraill a dylanwadu ar gyfeiriad digwyddiadau. Ac o syllu ar y tudalennau’n cynnwys cymaint o wybodaeth anghredadwy, wedi’u hadlewyrchu mewn drych sgrio, fe fyddai’r chwiliwr yn gweld delweddu’n ymrithio o’i amgylch…
“Ac fe fyddai’n gwledda’i lygaid ar luniau symudol, amryliw o’r hyn a fu, yr hyn sydd, a’r hyn a allai fod. Ond nid yr hyn a fydd yn ddiamau a ddangosid, mae rhaid pwysleisio, ond yn hytrach y canlyniadau tebycaf yn cydymffurfio â chwantau’r gwyliwr. O ganlyniad i’r amlygiadau ysgytwol a brofodd Lugal-mach wrth ddarllen y symbolau byw, fe ddarfu iddo wneuthur sawl peth. Y cyntaf ohonynt oedd gofannu cleddyf deufin wedi’i fendithio â rhaib hynafol yn Swmereg, sy’n rhedeg; ‘Nid marw’r fath beth a eill huno am hydoedd; A’r Angau Glas drengo ar ben dirgel oesoedd.’ Ac fe’i tymherodd â’i waed ei hun…
“Wedyn, frawyched dweud, roedd rhaid iddo’i offrymu'i hun mewn tân, er mwyn iddo gael ei aileni ar ffurf baban gwyrthiol fel, o’r diwedd, wedi aeddfedu a dioddef sawl profedigaeth, y gallai groesi’r gofod i’r Nw Yrth ar ffurf dyn ifanc, golygus. Ac yn awr yr wyf fi, Sorakados y Tywysog, wedi llwyddo i ddarganfod cyfrinachau fy etifeddiaeth, er mai yn gyntaf oll yr oedd rhaid imi syllu am oriau ar yr enfys o olew a chwyrlïai ar wyneb du fy nrych sgrio wrth gynhemlu uwchben y llyfr hynafol. O wneuthur hyn, ac aros gan lafarganu, fe ddeuthum i sylweddoli mai myfi yw’r hen sêr-ddewin, a’m henw’n golygu ‘Swynwr’ yn iaith gysefin y Nw Yrth, ac y bydd arnaf angen dilyn trywydd Lugal-mach…
“Ac felly paratois i deithio’n syth i’r Nw Yrth, lle y crwydrwn yma a thraw, gan ysbïo ar bob peth a wnâi’r amryfal drigolion, wrth flasu pleserau di-sôn-amdanynt. Ond roeddwn yn gwybod yr arhoswn yno am byth oni bai am yr hudlath wedi’i harysgrifio â llythrennau rwnig, cochion a nerthol, a adawai i fi ddychwelyd yn iach fy nghroen drachefn i’r Ddaear ar wely hedegog ac arno adenydd eryr gwyn. Ac yn hyn o beth, byddwn yn debyg i ryw Ddewin arall o fri a wisgai fantell lwyd i ddechrau, a droai’n glaerwyn ar ôl iddo godi o farw’n fyw wedi cael ei ladd gan gythraul fflamllyd...
“A phedwar tocyn y deuthum â nhw i’m cynorthwyo ar y daith, er mwyn talu teyrnged a bodloni’r gwarchodwyr sydd i’w cael yno. Am y byddai heriau i’w hwynebau ar y cilbyst rhwng y Ddau Fyd, ar lan Afon Wylofus, ar drothwy Dinas y Sigwratau, ac yn y Goedwig Emog. Ac felly yr oedd gennyf lain cyn lased â llygaid baban heb ei eni yn y bru, carreg cyn ddued â phechod y Ddaear oll, o Dŷ Aileni, hedyn cyn wyrdded â’r plancton yn y Môr Mawr Llwyd sy’n chwerthin bob tro am ben ofergoeledd yr hil ddynol, a phluen cyn wynned â’r gwynt wedi’i phlycio o ystlys Sarff Asgellog...
“Ymhellach, yr oeddwn yn dwyn yn fy nwylo dwy ddoli clwt i fod yn aberth pe byddai angen; ac fel dyn marw, yr oeddwn yn cludo dau ddarn arian yn fy ngheg yn anrheg i’r Gwylwyr Trachwantus. Yn fy ngwregys wedi’i chau â gwäeg o aur yr oedd y cleddyf hudol. Am y golygfeydd rhyfedd roeddwn wedi cael fy rhybuddio ymlaen llaw gan y delweddau. Ac yn wir, fe welais ddyn cloff yn gyrru mul a lwythwyd â meddiannau, a chyfoeth, a memrynau; hen wragedd yn gwau tynged y ddynolryw ar wŷdd enfawr o esgyrn; a gŵr marw yn boddi yn yr afon rhwng teyrnasoedd bod ac anfod. A dyna oeddwn hefyd ar y ffin rhwng byw a marw, rhwng y Ddaear a’r Nw Yrth. Ond er yr holl synau iasol – yr esgyrn yn crensian; y trychfilod yn ddi-ball rincian, chep-er, chep-er, chep-er; y siacaliaid yn udo at y cigfrain ysbeilgar –euthum yn syth heibio iddynt...
"Rwyf wedi cerdded yn sgil y seren wib, wrth fynd heibio i garthbyllau dyfnaf y Byd Arall. Rydw i wedi teithio i lawr y Mynydd Gwydr, gan ddilyn Afon Dagrau tuag at y Môr Gwaedlyd liw nos. Wedi disgyn i fol yr Anghenfil Sarffaidd sydd yn byw yno yr wyf, a’m cludodd i’r Cyfandir Deheuol. Ac o’r diwedd rwyf wedi treiddio trwy brif borth Dinas Saith Sigwrat i’r Isfyd y tu hwnt. A dyma fi’n darogan a datgan yr hyn fydd yn digwydd o hyn ymlaen…
"Yma yng nghanol y fforest o golofnau o ambr a fewnosodir â muchudd, ymysg y pentyrrau wedi’u hesgeuluso o ddiemwntau a gwyrddfeini, rhuddemau a saffirau, fe fydd eneidiau di-rif y rhai isel eu pennau’n ymchwyddo o’m cwmpas yn fud, gan ddod â’u hanrhegion: hesbin berffaith-gwbl, ceiliog du, chath wen, a hwrdd perffaith-gwbl. Ond ni fydd arnaf angen y fath offrymau…
"Fe fyddaf yn dawnsio gyda’r hudoles hynaf, fwyaf glandeg, Tefnuth, y Dduwies a gyfradawyd gan ei gariad pan oedd hi ar fedr esgor ar eu plentyn. Bydd hi’n gwisgo gŵn hir o sidan du, menig gwynion, a thwrban coch. Ac fe fyddaf fi’n sisial geiriau serch yn ei chlustiau, megis, 'Ar y gwynt gwyllt hedfanwch, rhwng y byd hwn a'r llall. O deyrnas gwyll, fe welwch o'ch clwyd, gystuddiau'r byw; a gwylnos y meirwon.' A heb y gronyn lleiaf o amheuaeth, fe ddaw’i cheffylau ffrochus ag ysbryd fy Mam y Frenhines, a anfonwyd i farw cyn ei phryd gan ei Gŵr, fy Nhad y Brenin. Ac wedyn fe allaf fi ddwyn y Fam yn ôl i fywyd…
“Ymhellach, fe wnaf ymddiddan â Hebé, hanfod afreolus cariad a dial, a chynnig iddi fodrwyau o aur nes y diogelo ferch neilltuol sydd i fod yn wraig imi pan ddychwelaf. Hyhi sy’n dwyn baban a’i enaid yn berl drudfawr, o’i gymharu â’r lleill i gyd sydd mor frwnt â chytiau cŵn Annwfn, a’r Mab hwn, yr un nerthol i ddod, fydd yn etifeddu holl ogoniant y deyrnas maes o law...
"Ar hyn o dro, o’m pen a’m pastwn fy hun, fe fyddaf yn aberthu’r arall ar allor yr hunan, wedi’i gorchuddio â felfed porffor, gan gyfnewid un bywyd am y cread oll. Trwy nerth fy ngeiriau y dileaf bob peth a wnaed yn y Ddau Fyd, gan adael dim ond blagur gwyrdd adfywhad ymhlith adfeilion llwyd dinistr. Ar ôl hyn yr â f’awydd a’m hewyllys yn un â’i gilydd, ac fe una’r crëwr a’i wneuthuriad. Felly y lluniaf fyd newydd, lle mai gwirionedd a chwytho hwnt a thraw ar wynt fy nychymig. Ac yna, y pryd hynny, fe fyddaf yn esgyn i ogoniant!"
Geiriau swynol yw’r rhain, wrth gwrs, ac roedd Sorakados y Tywysog yn llefaru o galon. Ac wedi darllen y llyfr ysgymun yn y modd a ddisgrifiwyd uchod, roedd yn credu’i fod wedi dysgu popeth i’w gael ohono. Ond er gwaetha’r hyn a allai fod wedi bod, roedd y Swynwyr wedi’i dentio i’r Nw Yrth drwy dwyll. Mae hanes ei gwymp yn hir a phoenus ei adrodd heb sôn am ei glywed. Ond nid oes ond rhaid dweud y canlynol yma. Cyn gynted ag iddo orffen ei ymson rhyfygus o flaen prif borth Dinas Saith Sigwrat, fe gododd gwynt creulon, ac ysgubo’r Tywysog ymaith.
Tra oedd yng nghrafangau’r storm, cafodd ei orfodi i ymladd yn erbyn llwyth o greaduriaid erchyll, yn cynnwys cnud o gŵn cynddeiriog, rheibus, a’u cyrff mor wyn â’r sialc yn siambr artaith rhyw athro cythreulig, eu llygaid cyn lased ag eiddo Tŷ Aileni yng nghanol yr anialwch coch, a’u clustiau mwy cringoch na’r fflamau fydd yn llosgi’r Ddaear yn ulw pan fydd yr Haul yn marw yn y dyfodol anhygoel o bell. Nesa’ fe laddodd rhan fwya’ o’r gre o geffylau fampiraidd gwyllt, a chan pob un wyth coes fel yn hen chwedlau’r Llychlynwyr, a oedd yn brathu, a stampio, a sathru, a gweryru fel petai’r Ddau Fyd ar ben. Ac wedyn fe gafodd ei ollwng, bron yn noeth, ac yn waed a chleisiau i gyd, ymhlith fforest enfawr o binwydd ac ynddi greaduriaid arallfydol o bob math, a siâp, a maint, fyddai’n ymosod arno’n enbyd ym mhen yr hir a'r hwyr.
Ac yn y byd go iawn (os gellir ei alw felly), yn y gwely simsan, mae’n harwr ni o lanc, David, yn dychmygu teithio i fydoedd eraill, gan fyw bywydau eraill. Ar bob ochr mae’n clywed Hebé y gaseg lwyd rithiol, yn gweryru heb rwystr, a thyllau’i llygaid yn belenni fflamgoch, a’i chyrff esgyrnog yn crychlamu fel petai wedi’i wneud o arian byw. Ond yna fe siomir e'n ddirfawr o ddarllen am dranc Sorakados mewn coelcerth fflamllyd ar ôl cael ei dwyllo gan Swtach, gwas i’r Swynwyr.
Ond er gwaetha’ ‘ny, mae David yn breuddwydio a dymuno nerth ei enaid y medrai ddianc, a mynd yno, i foddio’i lygaid ei hun ar ryfeddodau’r Nw Yrth. Ac yno fe fyddai’n ymladd yn erbyn Tefnuth, Arglwyddes y Meirwon, yn ei thiriogaeth fud lawn cyfoeth a moethau sy ddim o werth i neb yno, ond y tro hwn byddai’r dyn marwol yn ennill a honni’r wobr deilwng. Wrth gwrs, pe bai’r Wyddfa’n gaws fe fyddai’n haws cael cosyn, ond yn gyffredinol, dyw’r byd ddim yn cydymffurfio ag ewyllys dyn er cymaint pŵer ei feddyliau, ydy e? Ond, wedi dweud hynny, mae pwerau swynol yn wahanol, ac mae wastad le i obeithio, on’d oes? Ac mewn gwirionedd, gyda’r fath ddymuniad, dyma agor porth i’r Dduwies Decaf, a Mwyaf Marwol, ddod drwyddo.
Ac felly un nos, mae’n trio mor galed i chwarae rhan Sorakados, dewr ond byrbwyll, yn y Byd Arall, er mwyn achub ei Mam druan, ei angyles wedi'i dirboeni, y bu bron iddi farw wrth ei ddwyn i’r byd, a'i llusgo hi’n ôl o’r tu hwnt i’r bedd. A’r munud yna, pan fydd ei waed yn arllwys mewn llid mud i’r ffiol rad o bres mae wedi’i dwyn o’r siop drugareddau, mae’n teimlo fel ‘sai’r tywyllwch dirmygus wedi’i rwygo gan drwst o daran digon i hollti’i ben. Ym mhob man mae llewyrch fiolet a drycsawr osôn, ac mae beichio chwerthin annynol yn atseinio drwy’r ‘stafell wely ddrewllyd. Ond wedyn, dim byd. Falle dylai’r bachgen twp fod wedi deall taw neb yn y Ddau Fyd sy’n gallu galw ysbryd yn ôl yn fyw o afael y Medelwr Didostur. Ac mae’r llanc anghysuradwy’n crio ei hun i gysgu unwaith eto, y tro hwn mewn gwely gwaedlyd, wrth i ryw gyfran o’i bŵer hudol ddiflannu oddi mewn iddo. Ac ar ben hynny, dyma ddau o’r Swynwyr Milain yn dod i mewn i fywyd David.