Day 15 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

The courtyard of Castle Arrow was filled with people. I hadn’t seen it this crowded since Bres announced that the capital was changing to Falias. Guards and townsfolk alike mingled together as if they had just spent several days working together to put the castle back together…which they had. There seemed to be an unspoken comfort level among the guards and nobles with the presence of all of the locals. It was foreign to me, but it somehow felt right.

A makeshift stage sat back toward the keep. On it stood the city council members, a few members of the Queen’s Guard (including Erelith), and Nemain’s fiacha. I took my sweet time winding my way up from the crowd. I knew my presence was required for whatever pomp and circumstance they had planned, but I found myself in no hurry to stand next to the arseholes from Findrias.Over the last few days, I had gotten enough of that to last me the next millennia.

“My friends and relatives,” The Dagda said. He spoke into some sort of magical twig that amplified his voice, and the crowd quieted. Macha and Nemain stood impatiently behind him, clearly waiting for him to finish so they could say their piece.

“I have good news. Over the course of the last nightfall, I was able to repair our communication beacon.” A cheer rose up from the crowd, though it felt muted, far below the uproarious volume level that a crowd of this size was capable of. I continued to wind my way toward the stage. Despite my trying to stay incognito, the people around me gave me a wide berth as I passed. I paused another moment at the edge of the townsfolk, steeling myself to be among the politicians again.

“So this is your moment,” came Badb’s voice from my right, startling me.

“Chet girlie, you nearly got a dagger in your throat!” I said, lowering my hand from Stick.

“I don’t think so,” she said. She looked calm and confident, and knowing her boons, I suspected she was right that she’d never been in any danger.

I peered at her. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say this much the whole time you have been here.”

“I speak when it is necessary,” she replied. I paused, waiting for her to continue. She didn’t.

“I bet you’re a lot of fun at a party.” No reaction. She was good. It made me like her… but only a little. After all, she was related to the other two black-haired devils up on stage.

“They aren’t the devils you think them,” she said. “But then, devils aren’t really devils either, are they?”

“This is your version of necessary speech?” I asked, with only a hint of snark in my voice. The Dagda was saying something else up on the stage, but Badb and I were having our own private moment, so I hadn’t really caught what it was. Still, it seemed to snag Badb’s attention.

She looked back at me, her expression unreadable. Then, as she turned to leave, her lips moved silently. Just one word.

I blinked. Did she just call me that?

“Hellraiser?” I whispered to myself, testing the word aloud. Was that supposed to be an insult? If it was… I kind of liked it.

The sound of my name shook me back into reality. At some point, Nemain appeared to have taken the magical twig microphone from The Dagda. I looked up to see her addressing the people in the courtyard.

“Thanks to your lords’ work restoring the communication to Falias, we now know the Overking is calling for the formation of a grand coalition. He seeks a combined force of military vessels and personnel from the four cities. We join together to defeat the Fomorian horde!”

A great cheer erupted. My own heart began to beat faster, and I realized that I too was being influenced by Nemain’s infernal boons. I fought the frenzy, realizing it was a little easier to do once I recognized its influence. All it took was to think about what she had said about Bren.

Oh, Bren, I thought. What are you doing with Cai? There must be a reason that doesn’t involve betraying Gorias… or Falias.

The Morrigan, and likely all of the Findrias nobles, were obviously siding with the Overking, with no room for nuance and little thought of Gorias… or Brigid! Nemain had told us the Overking spoke of the former queen’s need to rest after her travels. I thought it odd she hadn’t returned to defend her city, or even after the invasion, to be with her people as they rebuilt…but his message said that she was with the city in spirit and would return to us soon. A brief pang of guilt at my own doubt and hesitation racked me. Shouldn’t I also support Falias? Shouldn’t we all?

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But then again…I thought back to what Aengus had told me in the Cave. After the death of Caer, he’d left the castle, choosing to grieve alone. He had not returned until the recent siege, and when he had, he was different. Sure, he’d been withdrawn since the death of his beloved, but now he seemed watchful, almost tense. I assumed it was because he had come to the same conclusion I had. Though I didn’t know how or why, I felt in my bones that the Overking was responsible for the death of Bres.

“You see? Even now she stands among you.” Chet, Nemain was laying it on thick. I hadn’t heard what preceded that puffed-up statement, but by the sounds of it, she was clearly ramping up to the culminating announcement about my reinstatement into royal service.

I looked up at Nemain. From here, she looked unusually pale. Dark circles sat below her eyes. And though her speech was definitely rousing the crowd, to an experienced listener, it was clearly lacking her usual fervor.

“Please join with me in welcoming our dearest Fíadan.” As the crowd began to cheer, Nemain lowered the magical amplification twig. She beckoned me.

It felt strange. I knew there was a commotion going on around me, but my mind seemed to mute all of the noise and chaos. My legs carried me forward onto the stage.

The Morrigan handed me the twig and I held it loosely in my hand as I scanned the faces of those before me. Morias looked sad like he pitied me for the position I had been put into. I know it was because he cared for me, but I had never enjoyed being pitied.

Next, my eyes fell on The Dagda and Aengus. Both looked pensive as if they were still wrestling with the proclamation from Falias. Nemain leaned against Macha, holding a blood-spotted cloth to her nose. Macha supported her sister but managed to simultaneously look as though she was enjoying my obvious discomfort. And Badb…Badb had a wicked, secretive smile on her face.

Confused, I turned to the crowd. Many were still cheering and applauding. A few shouted “Captaen.” My eyes flicked over to Erelith, who stood with an inquisitive look on her face. Where before I had only seen her naivety and inexperience, I now saw seriousness, as though she were weighed down by the gravity of the moment. She nodded to me, in what I supposed was meant to be a show of support.

The crowd continued its frenzied cheering. It seemed that every moment I was silent only served to rile them up more. Even still, the longer that I stood there, the more awkward I felt. I raised the twig to my mouth, but nothing came out. Inspirational speeches had never been my strong suit, and my current swirling suspicions weren’t helping. It would have helped if I had actually reached a firm conclusion in my own mind. Sure, I had conspiracy theories… but did that warrant a speech or action?

Flustered, I said the first thing that came into my mind. “You need to stop yelling. It’s distracting me.” My voice boomed across the crowd and they immediately quieted. I heard a small snicker from one of the council members behind me in the sudden silence.

“Thank you for coming to help me at the gate.” The people remained silent, to my surprise. All eyes were on me. I shifted uncomfortably.

“Without you all… well, I’d be dead and the castle would still have those chetty green and gold banners waving over the courtyard.” There was some laughter at that.

“But… you ain’t brave, not really.” I paused, thinking about how far down the rabbit hole I was willing to go. There were some confused looks from the crowd.

“Fighting with a mob at your back makes you feel brave, though. You know who was brave? My friend Bren.” I pointed up on the wall to where Balor had held Morias captive. “Bren’s not from here, but he fought for your castle and your queen.”

A cheer went up at the back of the crowd. A voice called out Brigid’s title, Breo-Banríon. Another took up the cheer, then another.

One of the council members muttered something flippant about my referring to Brigid as the queen, but I continued before anyone could move to take the twig out of my hands.

“He fought the biggest and ugliest Fomorian in order to save his fat Sage friend. And he did it by himself, alone, up on that wall, with no friendly mob to watch his back…just because it was the right thing to do. That’s how we used to do things here.” I could feel my face warming and my voice grew stronger with my anger.

“What are you doing?” said a voice behind me. I didn’t bother checking which of the Morrigan sisters had asked the question.

“I’m not your Captaen… not anymore. You already got one.” I glanced over to Erelith. She stood frozen in shock, but I was on a roll, so I kept going.

“A Captaen has to take orders… even when they know they are being lied to. I can’t do that anymore.”

A collective murmur of confusion echoed off of the walls of the courtyard. I turned and tossed the twig to The Dagda. I didn’t bother to look for approval in the faces of the council members. I hopped off of the stage and made my way through the crowd, which parted for me as I walked.

I heard Nemain bark an order and turned to see her fiacha advancing toward me, hands on their weapons. Just as I was cursing myself for not having expected this, I saw Erelith and her Queen’s Guard move to block the path of the fiacha. I wasn’t surprised that Nemain or Macha hadn’t liked my little speech but was surprised that Erelith would put her neck out for me like this. I knew that despite the infamous reputation of the fiacha, it was unlikely there would be any bloodshed in front of the townsfolk.

I quickly made my way out of the drawbridge, angling myself to the wharf. The whole time I had been up on stage, I had only one thought running through my mind. I needed to find Bren. I never thought I would have said it, but I truly believed Bren was the key to understanding the war and the events leading up to it.

Only one being in all of Annwn could be trusted to help me find Bren. That being was Fernawen of the Eastern Segais Reddeshorate. But first I needed to get to her…and for that, I needed to find myself a ship.

At the pier stood a lone Gorias naval officer. He seemed unsurprised to see me, almost as if he had been expecting me. There didn’t appear to be anyone else around, which was very strange. Maybe they were all at the castle?

He saluted. “Hello, Captaen.” I rolled my eyes.

“Are you here to stop me?” I asked, giving him a wicked grin.

He flushed. “I… I was told to offer you a choice of ships?”

“Wait, who… never mind. I don’t want to know.” I glanced out to the harbor, where I saw two small ships with flame-tipped sails side by side, waiting at their moorings. “What do you got for me there, chief?”

He straightened and gestured to the ships. “The Witchcurrent and Hullraiser are both crewed and ready to depart at your command.”

I smiled, thinking back to Badb’s whispered voice in the courtyard and pointed to Hullraiser. “Let’s go! And tell the crew to expect a shadow in our wake.”