Day 18 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Uisneach, Tech Duinn

Annwn

Goibhniu, Eiocha, and I had discussed the Síorláidir for hours. We had filled her in on the current state of things in Annwn, and she told us of her suspicion that Maponos had become the Bodach and Caileach the Cailleach Bhéara. The remaining corrupted Síorláidir was almost certainly Donn, the god of death.

According to Eiocha, when they had diverted the magical water from Uisneach, the great wells had flooded. The central mound had become a volcano, and the spirits of the dead were collected in a place they named Uffern, a new sub-realm ruled by Donn.

I had been shocked to discover that Danu’s reason for asking the Old Gods to divert the water in the first place was surprisingly simple: she wanted an easy way to and from Hy-Brasil. This was how the Heart-shaped Pool had been created, and Danu had quickly declared the pool off limits to everyone else.

My heart ached for Eiocha. Not only had she lost everyone that she had ever cared about, but the binding and unbinding from the shillelagh had stripped her of her own magical domain. The white-haired woman had shrugged off the loss, though, suggesting that its lack was likely why she had not immediately succumbed to the corruption that plagued the rest of her non-Treasure Síorláidir friends upon emerging from the staff.

Goibhniu, in turn, told us of his time as a prisoner in Uisneach. He spoke of “the big one,” a hulking Bánánach who had led most of the torture sessions. He believed they had kept him alive because they enjoyed feeding off a Tuatha and had been careful to avoid killing him, which would have sent him to regenesis in the Pool, and therefore out of their reach.

Eventually, they both drifted to sleep, clearly exhausted. While they rested, I began experimenting with duinnite ore. Goibhniu had given me a brief overview of both the magical extrusion of Silverwhite from the ore and the living water of Uisneach. That was why there were so many large urns around the smithy.

I had found a large, pure piece of Duinnite and tried to activate my Battlesmith functions. The first few tries weren’t very fruitful. In fact, I exploded several of the finest Duinnite crystals that Goibhniu had been collecting during those first attempts. The last of these explosions had woken the smith, who watched my continued attempts closely. Finally, I was able to get the prompts necessary to construct my own Silverwhite weapon.

Your domain classification, Battlesmith, allows you the ability to modify this crystal with little or no equipment. This Duinnite ore is enhanced by the water of Uisneach. Would you like to create a Silverwhite alloy or pure Silverwhite?

I mentally selected the pure Silverwhite option.

Concentrate on the weapon you wish to create out of the Duinnite ore, and it will begin to grow.

I concentrated hard, imagining a William Wallace-style claymore, ignoring the tiny voice in my head telling me that was the equivalent of purchasing a sports car in your mid-40s. I could almost hear the Internet trolls in my head as I watched the ore begin to grow. “Compensating for something?” the voice in my head snarked. Gah! I thought.

But it was too late. I watched glumly as the claymore began to shift again, shrinking down in size. I stayed like that for at least an hour, concentrating hard on making the claymore I wanted and growing sweaty in my frustration.

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Finally, I gave up, accepting that what I had created reminded me of the disastrous single nunchuck that the Stone of Destiny had transformed into during the bar fight in Unseelie. It appeared the weave had a sense of humor.

Yang Stick of Growth

A slim rod of gleaming Silverwhite, the Yang Stick of Growth adjusts its length at the wielder’s command—extending smoothly from a discreet baton to a full staff in moments of need. Light in the hand but surprisingly firm, it responds best to confidence and a strong grip. Though undeniably effective in combat, its true power lies in leaving enemies stunned, and companions questioning what, exactly, the wielder was trying to prove.

Farthing hell. Goibhniu was laughing so hard that he had tears streaming down his face. I scowled and pushed my newly earned power rank notification out of the way for the time being.

“Come on,” I grumbled, pulling the pair of weak gods to their feet. “We need to get moving.” I had tried to open the gateway to Tir fo Thuinn inside the smithy, but something about the magic of Tech Duinn seemed to be preventing it from opening. “We need to get clear of the mountain. Your brother is expecting us.”

I had been worried about the trip out of Uisneach and was pleasantly surprised to find the way clear of any Bánánach. As we passed through the pool room, Eiocha pointed out the passageway that would lead to the entrance of Uffern.

“The Big One stands guard there.” Goibhniu had added.

We made sure to give that passageway a wide berth as we exited, the smith god leaning heavily on me as we traversed the tunnel back to the cave entrance. Eventually, we came into the open air, but from where we were positioned on the western side of Tech Duinn, we were still shaded from the morning sun. The darkness of the mountain crags had me jumpy, imagining a fachan hiding in every shadow. I nearly dropped the smith when I heard a clatter further down the mountain.

“Stay behind me,” I said to the gods, before remembering that both were probably significantly more powerful than I was. “The giants of the shadowlands hunted me on my way up the mountain.”

I gently handed off Goibhniu to Eiocha, and, seeing him lean on the support of the much smaller god, began charging my hands with blue light. I had slipped on the shoulder straps of the Seolán Neimhe armor earlier and could feel the extra ambient energy flooding my body. I wondered idly what would have happened if I had completed the set and added the torso disc. I suspected strongly that I would have blown myself up again.

I could feel the gods behind me holding their breath as the rustling grew louder. I, too, took a deep breath in and held it, my tension ratcheting higher and higher as the mysterious creature’s steps brought it closer. I bounced gently on my toes, readying myself. Whoever it was stood on the verge of receiving an energy blast greater than any I had ever delivered before.

Just as I was about to prematurely fire into the dark, I heard a familiar whinny. The light of my hands diminished slightly.

“Gaoth?” I blurted. I chided myself as soon as the words left my lips, knowing that if I was wrong, I’d just given away our position. But another whinny confirmed my initial thought. Tadg’s smoky grey warhorse emerged from the shadows, bobbing his head in excitement at finding me.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” I said, dissipating my energy magic. We approached each other slowly. I put both hands on the horse’s head, touching my forehead to his. How had Gaoth managed to find me here in the Shadowlands, and what did that mean for Tadg?

I turned to the gods, my fingers clutching the horse’s mane. “Do you mind helping my friends here down the mountain?”

“Hello, Gaoth,” Goibhniu said, still leaning on Eiocha. Gaoth bobbed his head in greeting but didn’t move any closer. It was clear that the two were familiar with each other. This might work! My hopes were immediately dashed as the smith turned to me and whispered. “I’m not getting on that horse. He’s crazy!”

Gaoth whinnied and shook his head anxiously.

“I know. I know,” I said to the warhorse. “He didn’t mean it. Could you help me out here?”

The warhorse took a step back.

“Fine, Gaoth,” I muttered. “What if I ride with them?”

The horse took another step back, and I glared at the smith. “I think you hurt his feelings.” Eiocha and I stared at him, waiting.

Goibhniu sighed quietly and stepped nervously toward the horse.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

“I think you can do better,” I said, crossing my arms. Gaoth snorted and nodded again.

“Fine. Gaoth, I’m very sorry to have offended you. Will you please forgive me?”

The warhorse bobbed his head and stepped forward to stand still while I raised myself into the saddle. Once I was seated, I reached and pulled the gods up onto Gaoth’s broad back.

We rode for an hour before I finally felt the magical energy around Tech Duinn begin to normalize. I immediately opened a portal to Tir fo Thuinn, and acted out what seemed to be the beginning of a bad joke: Two Síorláidir, a god, and a warhorse walk into a magical portal room… Okay, so not a traditional joke, but funny all the same.