Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunset

In the Wild, Midlands

Annwn

“Come, join us at our fire,” said the man with the birthmark on his forehead. At his words, the strumming music stopped. The remaining five pairs of eyes turned in my direction. I stepped out from behind the tree as smoothly as I could, trying not to spook the group of warriors.

“I heard the music,” I began, my voice trailing off. “And thought I might share your fire if you are so inclined.”

“Someone actually came toward your music instead of running away,” one of the women said with a laugh. The others chuckled, one elbowing the bard good-naturedly. The bard, Oisín, gave the woman a look of mock outrage, but even from here, I could see his eyes gleaming with mirth…and, I realized the effects of some type of alcohol.

The man with the birthmark, clearly their leader, kept his eyes on me. It was clear that he was unsure whether I was friend or foe. My next words would be critical in avoiding unnecessary violence.

My mind flicked back to the song the bard had been singing. “Was that song about a man named Bren Búachaill?”

The bard set carefully set down his beautiful cittern and began to rise. The leader stopped him with a word, “Sit.” The other four changelings quieted immediately, their faces sober.

“Who are you, friend, and from where have you come?” The stoic man remained seated, with his hand casually easing nearer the hilt of his sword, which was resting on the ground in its sheath.

My mind feverishly raced through possible answers. I knew the best course of action would be to give an alias and a false destination, but I found the idea strangely disturbing. Even after everything I had discovered, it was not in me to deny the name given to me by my father.

“Tadg,” I said, stepping closer to the man, keeping my hands loose and unthreatening at my sides. “I left Brú na Dallta at dawn.” These partial truths answered his questions, without giving so much as to put me at risk. “I find myself wearied after a long day of riding and appreciate your hospitality.”

The man nodded, his eyes still sharp. “I am Diarmuid. These are members of our fianna.” He motioned around the group, starting with the two women. “This is Gráinne and Muireann, and these lads are Rónán and Caolán. The bard there is Oisín.”

I managed to keep my face from betraying any emotion at the man’s use of the term “Fianna.” I saw now just what I had blundered into. The fianna were bands of independent warriors who traveled around Annwn righting wrongs and settling scores according to the warrior-chief’s unique brand of honor. There were multiple fianna roaming the Midlands, some of which I had dealings with during my time at the Heart-shaped Pool. Generally, the fianna did good deeds and saved the Falias military countless days in maintaining domestic order.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, slowly stepping nearer the fire. “I had hoped to travel farther, but the darkness is thick, and I was forced to stop for the night.”

“Did you say that you came from Brú na Dallta this Sunrise?” Gráinne scooted closer to Diarmuid as she spoke. “That is a long ride.”

I nodded at the woman, then crouched down by the fire. It was difficult to keep my expression relaxed as my broken ribs screamed in protest at the movement. I needed to keep my injuries a secret, just in case I ended up in a confrontation with this group.

The fire warmed my chest, and it occurred to me suddenly that I had left my breastplate at the edge of the woods. That was good in one respect… while I’d be without its protection, the quality of the armor was such that it would likely have given away my pedigree.

Diarmuid raised an eyebrow. “Beautiful sword you have there,” he said, his tone dry.

Dwal... armor or no armor, I had forgotten I was carrying the former sword of a king’s guard. I nodded and partially pulled Vowkeeper out of the sheath so that the man could see the saber’s blade. The others leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of them.

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Even Oisín roused, though his curiosity seemed to have nothing to do with the gleaming blade. “I must know, lad, did you know our Bold Bren the Bare?”

I nodded again. “He is a friend.”

The group laughed at that. I wondered how many times they had heard Oisín’s retelling of Bren’s time at the north of the Pool. “I would go so far as to say that ‘Bold Bren’ is the reason I find myself in Cluain Toradh this night.”

Oisín took a long draft of his canteen before trying unsuccessfully to hide a small burp. “What is he? Is he Tuatha?”

I shrugged. “I wish I knew.” Oisín’s face fell.

I felt strangely bad about disappointing the bard. “What I can tell you is that I once saw him go into a fairy trance.”

Oisín smiled at my words. I had a feeling his mind was already working on a new verse for his song. I turned to Diarmuid and quickly changed the subject. “Where is your fianna headed?”

Gráinne spoke up again. She had moved even closer to Diarmuid, enough to make me suspect they were more than just fellow members of the fianna. “We are traveling to meet up with the rest of our group. They are stationed outside of Cruachan.”

While Gráinne spoke, Muireann sidled up closer to Diarmuid as well. The two women were practically sitting on top of the man, but he seemed unfazed by their attention.

Diarmuid must have seen the surprised look on my face or the way my eyebrows had risen at the mention of Cruachan. “Never fear, our people know enough to stay clear of the temple there.” He stared at me, then spoke again, as if he’d made a decision.

“We may be traveling in the same direction, but we do not share your pace.” The words hung in the air in an unspoken question. Why was I traveling in haste?

Untruths had never come easy to me, so again, I told a partial truth. “There is something I must do… something that only I can do.” The words surprised me as they left my lips. Why was I sharing even this much?

A flickering light in the trees my attention. The four warriors stood and drew their weapons, obviously having seen the light as well. Looking around, I saw that even Oisín had risen, leaving only Diarmuid seated. He was still looking at me. His head slowly turned to the light, taking his eyes off of me only at the last moment.

The light was spherical, brightening at the center where oranges and yellows danced about like a living flame. Wisps of white light trailed the ball, making it look almost like a comet in the sky brought to Annwn and caught in a twirling vortex.

“Tine Sí,” said a hushed voice. Fae Fire, I mentally translated.

“It is an omen!” Oisín announced. He had been the only one, other than Diarmuid and I, who had not drawn a weapon. His eyes were locked on the fiery ball of light. Where before I had seen merriment in his expression, he now looked serious, almost reverent.

Gráinne chuckled. “You think everything is an omen.”

I myself had never seen Fae Fire this close before. Yes, I had seen it at a distance before a battle, and once… I paused, remembering. It had been the night of the Cold Moon. I had seen the Fae Fire dancing over the Heart-shaped Pool.

“Oisín’s right,” Diarmuid said. Again, I was struck by the feeling that he reminded me of someone I knew. I couldn’t place who it was, but I knew that whoever it might be, Diarmuid’s hair wasn’t right, and his beard was too short.

I found myself intentionally avoiding looking too closely at the mark on his forehead. When my eyes happened to pass close to it, I sensed a strange vibration in the weave. I had spent enough time around magic-rich individuals to know a magic spot when I saw it.

Diarmuid stood. “It seems that Tadg’s coming to our fire this sunset has garnered the attention of the very spirit of the air.” The fairly light danced through the camp, then away into the woods as quickly as it had come. Diarmuid stepped closer to me as he continued to address the fianna.

“The lights mean us no harm, friends. Sit back, and rest. Oisín, play another song.” He nodded his head in my direction. “Tadg and I will walk together a bit. I see now the gravity of our meeting this night.”

Diarmuid stepped past me, heading back the way I had come. Either he wanted to discover what lay back at my camp, or he was hinting it was time for me to leave.

“I know who you are,” he said as soon as we were alone among the trees.

“I thought you might.” I tried to keep my tone even, doing my best to hide my worry. “I was stationed at the Heart-shaped Pool for many moons. If your fianna is based out of the Midlands, we have likely crossed paths a time or two.”

Diarmuid drew to a stop. His face was harsh in the moonlight. “Your father is an enemy to those that I love. The Slaugh Doctrine has caused many fae to flee to Ériu.”

I remained silent, unsure if I should share my recent awakening with the man.

“Your silence is telling, princeling. But I believe something big is coming and based on the arrival of the Fae Fire tonight, I wonder if you might not have an important part to play in it.”

I shrugged. “Likely not.” But was I lying to myself? The more I thought about Brigid, the more I realized that she could well be the lynchpin to a resistance victory. Did I want what I had always thought of as the opposition to win? I realized that I didn’t know.

“I have seen that look before,” Diarmuid said.

“What look is that?”

He ignored my question. “It isn’t easy, is it, cousin?” He paused, seeming amused. “If I had told the fianna who you are, anything might have happened. They would have run you off, taken you captive, or worse.”

He smiled. “But I believe WE can be better, Tadg mac Nuada, and so instead, I will encourage you on your way. Don’t make me regret my decision.”