Day 2 of Midwinter, Midday

Midlands

Annwn

“This realm really isn’t anything like the Celtic stories you told me,” I told Morias. We had been riding south all morning.

“There are little nuggets of truth in the myths. But the stories were passed down by word of mouth for so long that there are multiple versions of each story in Ériu. The real Annwn lies somewhere in the intersection of those stories.”

We talked like this while we rode. I was truly enjoying my ride on Gaoth. Morias had explained that the name meant “wind.” Apparently, he had been named after the most wild and unpredictable thing Overking Nuada could think of due to his temperament with new riders. Morias and Fí were amazed at how the horse had accepted me. A few times, he broke away and took off in a full gallop, but he never truly tried to unseat me. It was the first time in this world that I had forgotten where I was, and simply enjoyed myself.

We were heading to a town named Port Cóelrenna on the coast of what Morias called the Straits of Segais. There, we planned to charter a ship to Gorias.

I hasn’t asked for much information about the geography of Annwn until our ride that morning, but after an hour of riding with Morias, I was beginning to understand where things were in relation to where I was.

Despite not having seen a physical map (if they had such things), I learned that we had come into the world directly in the center of what I understood to be a plus-sign-shaped continent. There were lakes, rivers, and islands that broke up the landscape, but generally speaking, the major cities were located at the edges of the cardinal directions: Falias, the capital, sat in the north; Findrias was to the east; Gorias was to the south; and Murias was to the west.

The towns all had nicknames, but the only one I could remember at the moment was the one for Gorias. It was called the Flamebright City.

We arrived in Port Cóelrenna around midday. We were hungry and thirsty, but before we could take care of ourselves, we needed to find a stable for the horses. Luckily, we stumbled on one next to a tavern named “The Somerville.” After dropping off our mounts for tending, we decided to seek lunch at the tavern.

There was nothing that I loved more in the world than brunch at an Irish pub. I thought of my favorite, a small hole-in-the-wall. I loved the dark wood of its interior. I loved to see children dancing to a tin whistle. Most of all, I loved the food, a full Irish breakfast with a Half & Half to wash it down. The Somerville had all of these things, save the children. It occurred to me that I had, in fact, not seen any children in Annwn since I had arrived.

The patrons of the pub turned to look at us when we arrived, but after only a glance, resumed their normal eating and drinking. This was a port town after all, and the people here were likely used to seeing strangers.

“After we eat, we should get you and I some new clothing.” Morias gestured at my garb. Not only was it completely different than what most people were wearing, it was filthy and bloodstained.

“If you’re trying to fit in, you’ll need more than new clothes,” Fí said in her usual sarcastic tone.

“I can’t think of anything right now other than a cold beer.” I was salivating just thinking about it.

Fí raised an eyebrow. “A cold beer?”

Morias shook his head as if embarrassed at my words. “Americans fit into two camps. In the middle of the country, the people drink clear, cold, watered-down, ‘light’ beer.”

“Gross!” Fí looked at me in disgust.

“On the coasts, they like to chew on hops,” Morias continued. “The more hops the better, in fact. I once had a quadruple IPA in Portland that just about turned my tongue inside out."

“What does that even mean, ‘quadruple IPA’?” I interrupted. “Give me a lager any day of the week.”

“How about two?” said the man behind the counter. “It looks like you lot need it.” He pushed over two beautiful, golden beers. My eyes must have looked like they were going to bounce out of my head because the man laughed, before asking “Where you coming from?”

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“We came down from the north.” Morias motioned for his own set of beers. “Two for me as well, please.”

The bartender turned to the still scowling fairy. “What about you, Miss Fí? Would ya like your usual?”

“Hey, Maurice.” Fí fluttered up on top of the counter and sat down with her feet on the inside of the bar. “I guess… Actually, do you have that cider I like?”

“Let me take a look.” He walked farther down the bar.

I turned to Fí. “Are you a regular here?”

“After a few hundred years, you become a regular everywhere.”

Morias got up and began talking with people in the pub, asking about chartering, renting, or whatever people do with a ship. Maurice came back with a crisp, greenish drink for Fí. She took a hearty swig and got a mischievous look in her eye. “You know what else we need?”

“I’d wager a guess.” The bartender smiled and turned to the stage. “D.K., play something we can dance to.”

The band consisted of a singer (playing what looked like a fat banjo), a whistler, a drummer (playing some sort of sideways drum), and a fiddler. To my utter surprise, they began playing music that I had heard before. They started with a familiar drinking song, “Johnny Jump Up.”

I couldn’t help myself. I hopped up with a beer in my hand and began dancing around the room. Others joined me at some point, but after a few more beers, and even more dancing, things got a little fuzzy. I think I was dancing with Morias, a ship captain he had befriended, and Fí. Maurice even came out for a bit and danced with the increasingly festive fairy.

By the end of the night, I was arm-in-arm with the ship captain, singing a Damien Rice song called, “Coconut Skins.” The encore performance must have been a local favorite. It was an old sea shanty Fí told me was called “Sailor in the Well.” When the band began playing, everyone in the pub joined in.

What shall we do with a sailor in the Well?

What shall we do with a sailor in the Well?

What shall we do with a sailor in the Well?

In the depths so dark and fell!

Way hey, down to meet Lir,

Way hey, the currents do steer,

Way hey, Uffern is near,

In the depths so dark and clear!

Lower him down where the waters churn,

Lower him down where the waters churn,

Lower him down where the waters churn,

To the depths where none return!

Way hey, down to meet Lir,

Way hey, the currents do steer,

Way hey, Uffern is near,

In the depths so dark and clear!

Pray for his soul in Segais Strait,

Pray for his soul in Segais Strait,

Pray for his soul in Segais Strait,

As the currents hold him fast!

Way hey, down to meet Lir,

Way hey, the currents do steer,

Way hey, Uffern is near,

In the depths so dark and clear!

When the song ended, the captain and I found ourselves on the dance floor with a crowd of slightly drunk sailors, deckhands, dock workers, and other local inebriates. It occurred to me in that moment that I was in a sea of strange people in a realm other than Earth. I wondered just how many of these people were actually even human. Some of them looked human. Some didn’t.

“I’m Bren, by the way,” I said to the captain, noticing for the first time a fresh gash on the right side of his face.

“Cristo. Captain Cristo.”

“Good to meet you. I heard you’re taking us to Gorias.”

“I heard the same story.” He looked past me, then suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me to the ground.

As I fell, a chair sailed over my head and connected with the Captain. The man that did the throwing was coming towards us. I spun around on the floor and kicked up, my foot connecting with his groin. He doubled over and Captain Cristo kicked him in the face.

A high-pitched scream of rage came from the other end of the bar. Fíadan had just noticed that we were fighting and was either angry I was being attacked, or possibly because she hadn’t been invited to the fight. She grabbed a nearby bottle and flew towards us.

Several of the downed man’s friends came at the captain and me. Cristo pulled me to my feet, saying, “We’re even now.” He took up a fighting stance next to me. I had no idea what he was talking about, but braced myself for what was shaping up to be a good, old-fashioned bar brawl.

Fí had gotten close to us by now, and broke her bottle over someone’s head. He went down. The man next to him turned from us to take a swing at the fairy. She easily moved out of the way and was reaching for her blades when I took a punch to the face. In retrospect, I should have been paying less attention to Fí and more to the guy swinging at me.

The captain jumped on top of the man that punched me and began choking him, just before a bell began to sound from behind us. It was loud, clanging like a buoy bell that someone was manually ringing. Everyone stopped what they were doing. When we looked, we saw Maurice standing on top of the bar with a iron pipe in his hands.

“That’ll be enough from the lot of you. Everyone go on home and sleep this off.” He turned to the fairy, whose hand was still hovering near her blades. “Fí, you know better than to pull weapons in here.”

Captain Cristo released the man he’d been casually strangling and turned to help me up. Fí came to our side and we all looked around for Morias. When it became clear he wasn’t in the pub, we looked elsewhere and eventually found him sleeping in the stables next to Gaoth, which made the captain laugh.

“You can stay on the ship tonight, if you like,” he offered. No one objected to the idea. The snoring form Morias was all the affirmation that I needed.

“You know,” Fí said as we limped our way down to the docks, “at least you know how to show a girl a good time.”