Day 5 of Midwinter, Sunset

Lough Dearg, Emain Ablach

Annwn

When the serpent finally stopped thrashing and the light from inside of its mouth and wounds went out, the room went dark. Spent, I collapsed on my back.

I heard Ruadan climb down the wall and finally hit the ground next to me. He helped me to my feet.

“Don’t pass out yet, Runt,” he warned, carrying me back to the beast. “First, pull your sword out. Then, there is something that you have earned.”

I did as he said. It was strange. The room was almost entirely dark, but my eyes had become a little more accustomed to the darkness. I could see the outline of the creature and of my “sword,” now back in its dagger form. I pulled it out, cleaned it on my cloak and put it back into the short dagger sheath.

“You ever see that movie Red Dawn?” Roo asked conversationally.

“I’m too pissed at you right now to discuss movies.”

In true Ruadan fashion, he ignored me and continued on with the point he was trying to make. “I mean the ’80s version, not the chetty remake.” He paused for a moment and scowled, thinking about the newer movie. “There is a scene where a young Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen make another kid drink the blood of a freshly killed deer. They tell him it will make him a true hunter.”

“I am not drinking this thing’s blood. Dude, I can barely stand up.”

“You don’t have to drink its blood.” He looked thoughtful. “I would imagine it’s poisonous anyway.” He thrust his hands inside the beast’s head and just as quickly pulled them back out. “Yep, it’s there… Okay, just reach inside the wound you made and feel around for a bone about the size and shape of a wrench.”

I shook my head, but did as he said. Groping around inside the enormous skull of this serpent felt…unwise. I felt like any moment the thing was going to wake up and bite me the rest of the way in half. But it didn’t awaken and I didn’t feel the sweet release of simply dying from my wounds. Instead, I felt a tingling on my skin from the blood now up to my elbow.

Eventually, I felt the bone Roo had told me about. I looked at him questioningly. “Now what?”

“Pull it out.”

“This is so gross.”

“Trust me.”

I pulled. The bone popped out without much resistance. I looked at it as another surge of pain racked my right side “It feels hollow.”

“Inside that bone is an oilliphéist wyrmling…It’s how they reproduce. Morias would probably love to get his hands on one of those to study it.”

“Can we just get out of here? I think I might pass out.” It was true. In the darkness of the room I was starting to see white splotches in my vision, and my head felt fuzzy.

Ruadan helped me half swim and half climb out of the oilliphéist lair.

“We probably shouldn’t be swimming in this algae.” I looked down at my dirty, water and blood-soaked clothes.

“I think you probably have bigger problems.” Roo gave me a half grin. He set me down on the bank of the lake, and we just laid there for a while, looking up at the moon. I may have blacked out a few times.

“I’m proud of you,” Roo said, snapping me back into consciousness. “You could have run, but you didn’t.” He stood and began to neatly roll up the golden rope he used to cut the oilliphéist in half.

“What is that rope?” I could still feel my ribs popping and cracking against each other when I moved, but the pain wasn’t as great.

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“You know Wonder Woman’s rope… the Lasso of Truth or whatever it was called.” Strangely, Roo still seemed on edge. “This is the Lasso of Pain.”

“Did you just make that up?” I was beginning to understand Roo’s strange sense of humor.

“Okay, it’s not really called the Lasso of Pain. But it is a nice way to describe what it does. It’s nonmagical, but it is a masterwork tier item. Each fiber is a razor wire. Handling it requires great care.”

“If that isn’t a great introduction to all things, Roo,” came a new voice from the darkness.

I twisted to look over my shoulder and saw two men and a woman approaching. They walked in a single file line, following the footpath down the hill. The man in the lead was dressed in what I might have called a cape, only it was wrapped around his front and arms. He had prominent cheekbones and a pronounced chin. He carried no visible weapons and approached us with a smile. That smile…There was something familiar about him.

The woman came next. She towered over the other two and was fiercely beautiful. Her hair flowed down her back in a series of reddish-blond braids. She carried a spear wrapped in a deep green cloth and had a sword strapped to her belt. This woman was clearly a Fomorian, one who appeared to be surveying our makeshift campsite.

The third man startled me. As he entered the light of the fire, I saw that it was Ruadan… or his twin…or at least someone who looked just like him. Something wasn’t right. Looking to the other side of the fire, I saw the original Ruadan looking at me. He gave one of his half smiles and shrugged.

“Hail, Comhthíreach.” The man in the lead raised a hand in greeting.

“You wish you were my countryman!” The original Ruadan leapt to his feet and gave the speaker a hug. He then approached his twin. The two joined hands and melted into a single version of himself.

The massive woman stared. “That is so farthing strange.”

The new Ruadan gave her a bright grin. “Did you miss me, big girl?”

“I can’t seem to be rid of you,” she muttered. “Least there’s only one of you now.”

“That’s what you think!” Roo said playfully.

I tried to stand, but all I managed was a pathetic whimper.

“You needn’t stand for me, Bren Búachaill.” The man crouched near the fire. He began warming himself and motioned for the woman to join him. She ignored him, focusing her attention on me. “We have traveled the foothills from the coast for many hours. We are tired and chilled.”

“Speak for yourself, Béstin,” she said to him.

“Apologies, my dear.” He gave the woman an affectionate smile. “I do believe you could walk the whole of Nightfall without tiring.” He reached into his clothing and pulled out a small vial. Then he stood and came to sit next to me.

“Drink this,” he commanded. “It’s not normally meant to be ingested, but I would imagine that a little nausea is preferable to what you are presently enduring.”

He held out a familiar looking golden fluid. Morias had rubbed some of this liquid on my wounds when we were at sea a few days earlier.

The woman stepped around the fire, closer to the man. “Don’t, Béstin! It is your last bit of Súg.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said in a soothing voice, then turned to me again. “She is always looking out for me.”

“Thank you…Béstin.” I reached out for the liquid.

The woman and Ruadan laughed when they heard me say his name.

“Béstin means ‘little beast.’ It is her pet name for me.” Seeing that I was having difficulty with only one working arm, he reached over to unstopper the container. I drank down the golden liquid. It was sweet, like maple syrup with a hint of hazelnut.

“We call it Súg. It means ‘juice of the tree.’ The syrup is extracted from the Golden Cob tree.”

“Never heard of it.” I clenched my teeth. I felt a cascade of popping sensations ripple through my right side.

“They only grow in certain locations here in Annwn…Dian Cécht plants them in the ley lines of crossover points from Ériu.”

A loud crack echoed around the campsite and I felt a few of my ribs snap back into place. The pain eased, but I immediately felt sick to my stomach.

“You didn’t come here to give me a botany lesson.” I fought back the desire to vomit. “Why are you here?”

“We have come to ask for your assistance, Bren.”

“I don’t even know who you are.” I attempted to push myself into an upright seated position. “I know you are friends with Ruadan and that you travel with a Fomorian. I’m having trouble reconciling those two things right now.”

Ruadan took up a position across the campsite from me. His hair looked even more red in the light of the fire. Roo looked truly nervous for the first time since I first met him. He glanced at me. “This is going to be hard for you.”

The man stood and offered a hand to me. I allowed him to slowly help me to my feet. We stood eye to eye for a moment and he appeared to be thinking about his next words carefully.

“My people call me their ‘adopted son.’” He motioned to the Fomorian woman. “It was Tethra’s father who gave me this name…and who gave me a new family.”

I recognized the name Tethra. I knew at that moment who I was talking too. My blood went cold. This was the man that had orchestrated the attacks on the changeling camps, the man that had killed Bres, and the man who came forth out of the Heart-shaped Pool with me on the night of the cold moon. This was Cai Maccán.

I drew my dagger and leveled the point at him. As I did, Tethra drew a familiar looking blade. It was the same kind of blade I had seen the other Fomorians use back in the Midlands. It reminded me of Mel Gibson’s sword from Braveheart, only the whole top third of the blade looked like a spear.

Cai didn’t flinch at the dagger aimed at his chest. Instead, he calmly said three words that rocked me back. “Join us, brother.”