Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunset

At Sea, Well of Wisdom

Annwn

The old man of the sea grasped my forearm in one of those old-fashioned handshakes I had seen in various period movies. I grasped his arm back, trying to make the foreign motion look natural.

I had told him about Fern’s Shell of Promise. He said he was no stranger to the selkie items and knew exactly how they worked, which made one of us. Placing the shell in seawater would do nothing but communicate, on a subconsciously magical level, my exact location to Fern.

I reminded him that when the time was right, I would need the sea to hasten our reunion. Lir had agreed to my terms, but I could tell that he still thought he'd gotten the better end of our deal.

“How will I know where to find your brother… what was his name again?” I asked.

Lir turned as a figure stepped from the city into Tir fo Thuinn. The man had short, curly hair that looked wet for some reason. He was clean-shaven with youthful features that reminded me of Ruadan. He wore a long rectangular cloth gathered at his right shoulder, leaving the left side of his chest and arm completely bare. In his arm, he held the weirdest-looking spear I had ever seen. It had four sharp blades at right angles to each other, with a point in the middle. It looked like a mace and a spear had a really weird-looking baby.

Lir gestured proudly to the newcomer. “Bren, this is my son, Manannán, Child of the Sea, Patron of Manau, Master of the Waves, Guardian of the Mist, God of Travelers.”

I waved awkwardly. “I’m Bren. Just Bren… but I’ve been known to answer to other, less flattering things.”

The boy-faced man smiled at me, but his eyes remained cool and appraising. “Búachaill is not an epithet that should fall unused.” Clearly, he had heard of me. I hoped that was a good thing. Manannán extended his hand, grasping my forearm as his father had. “By the Sages, another Protector has not been seen since the Síorláidir Teutates vanished.”

“Technically, I’m not a protector,” I admitted, thinking about my Chaos domain.

“Yet, others seem to feel differently,” Lir countered, his tone dry. “Assuming you didn’t give yourself this title?” I shook my head.

"Father, a word in private." Manannán gestured to his father, and the two men took a few steps away from me. They spoke quietly for several minutes, Manannán looking troubled and gesturing to me. I focused my eyes on the city through the portal, casually stepping closer hoping to hear what looked like a soft argument.

From the scattered words that I was able to pick up, Manannán had convinced his father to let him take me to Murias before we headed east into the hills and mountains below Tech Duinn. Apparently, this was the last place Goibhniu, the Smith god, had been seen.

As Lir and his son continued their conversation, my thoughts shifted to Cai. I realized that by undertaking this additional quest I would miss the funeral of King Neit and the coronation of soon-to-be Queen Tethra. I hoped, at least, that Cai would see my path across Annwn by watching from his... magic bowl thing. What was it called again? The name had reminded me of lingerie… a brazier, I think. This particular device, a Blaze Diviner, allowed Cai to remotely see what was happening in a particular place or around a certain person. Given that I didn’t know how to shield myself from the effects of the magic bowl, I was pretty confident Cai could and would follow and approve of my current path.

Manannán embraced his father, their conversation apparently having drawn to a close. He stepped closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, and squeezing just shy of too hard. He gestured to the portal in front of us, pointing at the Deep Water port of Murias. “It is time, Protector.”

I stopped before stepping through, remembering something. I turned back to Lir, raising my pilfered flask for him to see. He gave me a quizzical look before nodding, as if to simultaneously approve my taking of the flask and bid me farewell. I nodded back before stepping through the portal.

Manannán stepped through behind me. Looking back from where we had come, I realized that to any passers-by it would appear that we had emerged out of solid stone. I touched the side of the building. Where only moments before there had been a translucent sheen, now there was only a wall. My fingers felt around for the edge of a door or portal. Nothing.

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

“You won’t find it by looking.” Manannán placed his palm flat on the wall. His expression was a combination of admiration and fondness. "Every entrance and egress from Tir fo Thuinn requires a different key, so to speak.”

“At least it's not complicated,” I joked, trying to break through the other man's serious demeanor. “Will you teach me how to go back?”

Manannán shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet, but ultimately that’s up to you.” Well, that wasn't concerning at all. I decided to abandon my attempt to make friends.

Instead, I pondered the building in front of me. It was nothing special or out of the ordinary. Huge blocks of the same fine-grained, light brown stone were stacked flawlessly upon one another to make this and what looked like all the other buildings of this neighborhood.

“It is limestone, in case you were wondering,” Manannán said. “Look closely; you might even see patterns you recognize.” I peered at the stone and realized that I did see familiar patterns. Most notably, there were tiny fragments of shells peppered throughout this particular block. “The limestone is particularly resistant to the lapping of the waves and spray of the salt on the wind.”

Unfortunately, I saw nothing on the wall that gave me any clue as to how to get back into the portal room. Shrugging, I decided to get down to business. “So...What exactly are we doing here? And what should I call you? Should I use your full name? Do I need to include all of the titles when I address you? Honestly, even by itself, Manannán is a mouthful.” I knew I was rambling, but the questions just kept tumbling out.

“Slow down, Protector.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped. “It's been a while since I protected anyone. Maybe just call me Bren for now.”

Manannán's tone was light when he responded. “You feel as if the designation sets expectations too high for your future self?” He gazed over the edge of the stone platform, into the dark water below. Moving to his side, I peered down as well. My Dark Vision didn’t seem to help me see into the opaque surface of the ocean. It seemed like a strange nuance of the boon.

Manannán held his hand above the water, which began to bubble and churn. I instinctively took a step back. I had already seen some of the sea creatures lurking beneath the surface on my travels from Inis Fer Falga. Who knew what the son of the sea god could unleash on Murias? I imagined enormous monsters with rows of teeth and countless tentacles and shuddered. To my relief, though, I watched as a small sailboat emerged. Water spewed from the small ship's recesses as it came to rest atop the surface.

“My currach,” Manannán said proudly as if the vessel was a priceless artifact.

The thing was hideous. While I guessed from his tone that the ship had to be seaworthy, it looked like it belonged in one of those museums that exhibited random objects found in peat bogs or glaciers after thousands of years of neglect and decay. The ship had a black, wooden frame and what appeared to be canvas sides (also black). A single sail rose only six feet off the front bow. The thin mast sat at an angle, pointing toward the back of the boat.

“By the look on your face, I’m thinking ‘currach’ doesn’t mean what I think it means,” I said, trying not to laugh. There was no way this ship could handle the weight of one of us, let alone both. It looked like it was one hard breath away from dissolving into a pile of rags and sticks.

I was immediately proven wrong, as Manannán stepped down into the vessel and beckoned me to do the same. It didn't sink. Yet. He looked at me, his irritation visible. “What do you think it means?”

“You really don’t want to know,” I admitted, unwilling to admit I'd been pondering whether it was an Annwn word for a pile of crap.

“A currach is a sea vessel meant to travel fairly large distances in the rough waters of Ériu." He ran his hand lovingly across the sides of the small ship. "She has been a worthy ally."

I stepped into the ship, moving to sit across from Manannán in the low spot in the very middle of the boat. The minute I was seated, Manannán whistled sharply, a sound that seemed more appropriate to call a dog or a horse. Without a lurch, the currach turned and began to make its way toward the deeper open water. It skimmed lightly over the surface.

“Long distances, huh,” I muttered, trying to imagine what it must have been like to spend days at sea, trusting my life to what seemed like no more than a little bit of animal hide and tar affixed to a small wooden frame.

"The sheet," Manannán said, handing me the end of a rope, one of two in the oversized dinghy. I vaguely remembered the sheet could be used to move the sail side to side, while the other, the halyard, would move the sail up and down. I clutched the rope in my hand, feeling stupid and as if I was missing something important. Was...the son of the sea god attempting to teach me to sail? Maybe I'd misjudged what I'd believed to be his fairly distrustful demeanor.

He pointed to the back side of the boat. “That is the tiller. It will help you steer the currach." Looking smug, Manannán leaned back against the side of the currach. "You will need both the sheet rope and the tiller to navigate what is to come.”

I was immediately on edge. “I don’t think I like--or understand--your meaning. What are we doing out here?”

“My Father risks much by trusting and aligning himself with someone so new to our world. I am less convinced you are worth that risk." He looked me up and down. "But I respect my father and his wisdom, so will give you the opportunity to prove yourself worthy of his faith.” I sighed, preparing myself for more Otherworldly shenanigans I didn't feel at all ready to handle.

Ignoring me, he continued, his tone ominous. "This sunset you will discover why this sea is called the Well of Wisdom. If you survive, I will accede to my father's wishes and trust you to find Goibhniu."

A few moments passed as the vessel sailed further into Murias harbor. “That's it!" I shouted, snapping my fingers as inspiration hit. “I think I’ll call you Manny.”