Day 18 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Mag Mór, Tir Tairngire

Annwn

I felt the battle begin around me, but could not get to my own feet. I could scarcely breathe, let alone move, and I felt as though I was choking on my own tongue. My body wasn’t my own anymore.

Learning of the fate of his sons appeared to have completely broken my father. I knew he was angry with me, but the anger he reserved for his own actions that had led to their deaths was far and away greater. He had left all three of my brothers behind, thinking that together they would overpower and overwhelm me. That decision had killed two of them, and now he knew it…and that it was only my mercy that had allowed the youngest of us to live.

It was obvious to him that something had overtaken me and given me the power to not only escape Falias but to rescue Brigid from the heart of his power center. I wondered, fleetingly, if he thought Belenus had been with me always, lurking. Perhaps he would rationalize his lifelong disappointment in me, convincing himself that I had wanted to be a dutiful son and was simply corrupted by an external force. I wondered if he needed to believe this to justify my actions against him, or his own.

The creature inside of me, Belenus or Aillén, depending on how you were referring to him, seemed to sense the arrival of the other corrupted Síorláidir. The Cailleach Bhéara had arrived in pursuit of the Stone and the Cauldron. Danu, the progenitor, had unleashed the Bánánach and the giants. There was Belenus…and another of the old powers that no one else could yet sense.

Bren and Cai faced the Bánánach, the Fomorians at their back. Brigid was positioned to take on Danu, Fíadan the Cailleach Bhéara, and the fianna and fae the giants. The remaining Tuatha and generals of the changelings from the assorted armies of Annwn were caught in the center, battling everyone.

A monster stood in their midst, and they didn’t even know it.

MONSTER? IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF JUDGMENT DOES NOT WEIGH HIS OWN DEEDS.

“And that the god of light, his own darkness,” I said in my mind. Outwardly, my body still spasmed and shifted between my skin and bones.

“This is my doing,” my father said weakly, as he looked around the battlefield. I found I could no longer wrestle my voice away from Belenus enough to reply to him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he continued. “She told me that only I was strong enough to help her save the realm from those who meant us harm. The Fomorians plotted and bred in their hidden places. The fae whispered of rebellion against you and your…” he paused, his voice catching, “brothers.”

The broken thing that was my father rambled on and on about the lies and half-truths his mother had sold him. It was all plausible as he painted it, and all seemingly good-intentioned. But that is the way with war, I thought bitterly. The strong justified their actions and kept a scapegoat ready. But rarely did their violence yield the intended results. The only thing that war reliably produced was more death.

I understood why the new god of death had wanted this war. The answer lay all around us, as the spirits of death flooded forth from Uffern, ready to slaughter those in their path. Danu had wanted an army and had convinced Nuada to deliver it to her. Father recognized it now, too, but it was too late.

NovelBin is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

On top of all of this, the last of the Old Powers had arrived. The Bodach had come. The truth is that he had already been on the battlefield. He simply chose this moment to activate all parts of his hive mind.

Nearly a third of the changelings in service to the king heard the call and began to physically change. Coarse, long hair grew from under helmets. Gauntlets shattered as claws distended, breaking through them. At the center of the amassed army, chaos spread. Companies turned on one another. Brothers turned to murder brothers. Belenus remained silent in my mind.

“She is one of them. A corrupted Síorláidir!” Father said, finally realizing the magnitude of deception he had succumbed to. “They are all working together!”

He drew the Sword of Light and cleaved a Bodach in half as it reached our position. Another came in its place, then another. Father stood over my limp body, cutting each down as it attacked. Around us, it was impossible to tell friend from foe as the army savaged itself. Fire flared in the sky, and blue and red energy magic pulsed from somewhere on the battlefield. I heard Fíadan’s angry war cries from nearby.

Father bled from several wounds as he continued to defend us both from the onslaught of Bodach. It was obvious that he would be overrun by the sheer number of enemies before long. I needed to get on my feet.

WHOM DO YOU SERVE, TADG?

“Let me up! Let me fight!” I screamed out loud. Father glanced back at me, confused.

WOULD YOU SERVE NUADA? HE IS THE WORST OF THEM ALL.

I tried again to seize control of my body, and found myself still unable to move. But Belenus HAD released control of my voice…was he going to release me fully?

I WILL, ON ONE CONDITION.

“What? I begged. “What else could you ask of me?”

ACTIVATE PENITENT BRAND ON YOUR FATHER.

My heart seemed to stop. I knew what Belenus was really demanding of me. Activating the brand now would enable everyone on the battlefield to see the depth of my father’s depravity, the bargain he had made with Danu, the murder of Bres. Everything.

WHY DO YOU HESITATE?

“I don’t know!” He had done terrible, evil things, I knew, but he was still my father, and despite his weakness and the depths of how he had failed our people and all of Annwn, I loved him still.

Father had five Bodach hanging on him, their claws digging deep rents into his flesh. He screamed in pain as two let go to turn toward me. I was still paralyzed on the ground.

MAKE YOUR DECISION.

Belenus’s voice was cruel and demanding. I knew what he was doing–using imminent danger to rush my decision just as he had done in the tunnels of Cruachan. But it mattered little. I had already decided. My limbs moved, again under my control, as a red glowing brand lit the space between Father’s forehead and the mass of people surrounding him.

Vowkeeper slashed again and again, killing quickly as I traveled the sunbeams to either side of my father. Before long, we had carved a space around ourselves. He smiled at me, his expression one of pride.

The battle continued to rage as Father and I danced in and around his soldiers. Each one that we passed saw the truth of their Overking and of the false war he waged against the so-called Slaugh and the Fomorian. I could tell that Father was confused by the looks he received, the sudden lack of support from his troops, and the suddenly twisted expressions on the faces of his brothers…but in the midst of battle, there was no time to parse such things.

The brand had illuminated the whole truth of Father’s deception, from the killing of the sages to the kidnapping of Brigid. I knew that there would be hell to pay for my father if we survived the battle, but even survival was not guaranteed against the Old Powers. Bodies littered the ground everywhere I stepped.

Belenus continued to allow my use of our body. I felt fast and strong, and easily dispatched any enemy in my path. Father watched in awe as I used my new boons and seemed delighted at my newfound battle prowess. He had always valued power and loyalty above all else, and now I seemed the pinnacle of his dreams for his sons.

The irony was as thick as the mud and blood of the plains. I had at last gotten what I’d yearned for. I had earned my father’s love and respect. I had wanted to see this look on his face so badly, and now that it was here, I felt…nothing. Not even sorrow as his seemingly endless misdeeds continued to stream into my notifications.

Belenus laughed so long and loud inside my mind that I was certain those around me could hear it. The sound seemed to permeate my whole being, and I found myself unsure which movements were mine or those of Belenus. It felt as if we were intertwined, his thoughts and desires flowing into me, becoming indistinguishable from my own.

Turning, I stared at the relic calling to me from the usurper-king’s hand.