Day 10 of Midwinter, Nightfall

In the Wild, Emain Ablach

Annwn

We rode hard, trying to catch up with the rest of the army. Fíadan took the first shift resting. She sat in front of me while Efa galloped toward Gorias. She didn’t really sleep, though. She had told me she was going into a restorative trance. When we stopped to eat and water the horse, she explained the basics of the fairy trance.

Trances, according to Fíadan, were usually done in a place where ambient energy could be channeled from the environment to slowly rejuvenate your mind and body. While it was best to be comfortable, it was important to avoid any position that allowed the person to easily lose muscle tension.

“Most non-fairies can’t go into a trance, but if anyone could do it…” She paused, a serious look on her face. She fluttered to the ground to stand near Efa’s front legs, pausing to stroke them. “Well… you need to try. It’s the only thing that will keep you safe from that old hag shagger.”

“The Bodach?”

Fí nodded. “I was talking to the boss about your boons, and he thinks that absorbing energy is something you already do.”

Fí explained what to do, then offered to ride Efa while I tried to put myself into a trance behind her. I held tight to the three-foot-tall Ellyllon and closed my eyes. I was careful not to actually go to sleep. If I did, not only would the Bodach find me again, but I would also probably fall off the horse and break my neck.

After an hour of almost nodding off, I found myself in a very particular head space. I found a calm in the rhythmic clap-clap of Efa’s hooves, and soon I began to pull energy into myself from the darkness of night. As I concentrated, I noticed I could actually see the heat or motion energies flowing around and through objects, even as my eyes remained closed. I was focusing on a particularly bright cluster of light, willing it into my own body, when a sharp elbow jabbed me in the ribs, disrupting my trance.

“Ow!” I said to Fí, rubbing my side. “What was that for?”

She shook her head at me in exasperation. “Pull the energy from the environment. NOT the living things IN the environment.”

It was a real challenge not to pull energy directly from Fíadan or Efa, who were definitely the most abundant sources of energy around me. But instead, I focused on the things just outside our range and watched the flow of that light change direction, coming toward me. I could see the particles enter me and flow throughout my body in a cyclical pattern. Over and over I did this, moving the bright energy.

When I opened my eyes again, we had arrived at the top of a hill overlooking a valley containing the full might of our army from Cloudfair. I realized I must have been in the trance for hours! Orienting myself, I realized that the army was just east of Flamebright. We were on a hill farther east, and from our position, I could see the city. The red banner with the white arrow above the towers of Caisleán Saighead had been replaced with a dark green banner with what looked like the head of a golden bull surrounded by waves. Though I had never seen the Fomorian banner before, it pained me to see the heart of Gorias tainted in such a way.

A strange scene lay before us. Macha had been correct in her intel. It did appear the citizenry of Gorias was besieging the castle. Lines of fae and changelings alike, fought side by side, catapulting rocks and other objects over the wall. A group of citizens appeared to be working on a battering ram in a marketplace north of the walls.

Fí nudged me. “Come on, shorty. The Morrigan is about as patient before battle as I am…well…all the time.”

I chuckled and took the reins as she flew ahead. I patted Efa and whispered to her that her travels were almost through. She had carried us the whole way with little rest and food. We owed her much, and it felt like a pat and some reassuring words were not near sufficient a prize. But she bobbed her head as if she understood and trotted off to meet the army.

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In all, we had traveled almost a full day from the cave, yet I felt more rested than I had in days. Fíadan had been right. Going into the trance had felt inherently natural. I made a mental note to remember to reel myself in the next time so that I didn’t injure someone. I thought of the Sith from a Star Wars video game I had played years ago. Could I eventually become a Dark Side user and Force Drain my opponents? If so, I supposed I would be the first Sith who fought while mostly asleep.

“Glad you could join us,” Nemain said dryly as we entered the command area. Badb, Macha, and the Dagda sat near her. I waited for the inevitable snarky retort from Fíadan, but none came. Was it possible there existed a being in Annwn that Fí would not mouth off to?

Then it came. “Bren got lost, but I reminded him to follow the smell of cloaca.”

Nemain shot to her feet, as did a group of five Fiacha garbed in black. All six glared at Fíadan, while Badb and I tried to contain our smiles. It was Macha who spoke, breaking the tension.

“Sister, there are but few hours before the sun will rise on the city. If we are to proceed with our plan, we must move now.”

Nemain held Fíadan’s gaze for an extra heartbeat before she motioned for the Fiacha to gather around the others. “The Dagda,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him, “knows of a way inside the walls of the castle.”

“It will take us directly into the keep itself,” the god of magic added. “The challenge is that it takes two from my direct family line to function.”

The entire group fell silent. Bres was dead. Brigid was in Falias. Who did that leave, I wondered.

Macha turned to The Dagda. “Uncle, where is your son?” I watched a wave of unease ripple through those present. I hadn’t realized Brigid had a brother. He certainly hadn’t been in our meetings with the Breo-Banríon and Ruadan.

To my surprise, it was Nemain who spoke up. “Macha, you know that Aengus doesn’t concern himself with matters of Court.”

The Dagda nodded. “That is true. Though he lives among our people, here in the city, it has been decades since he has come inside the castle.”

“Hang on,” I said. I looked at Fíadan and made a face that she had come to know all too well. It was my confused face. “Why is everyone acting so strange?”

“Because he is my son.” Nemain stared at me defiantly as my brain tried to redraw the Tuatha family tree. “He is OUR son.” For the first time, she looked at The Dagda.

“Aengus’ domain is Love,” Fíadan added in a wistful voice. I swear her eyelashes fluttered.

Awkward silence sat upon the group for a long while. Badb’s voice broke the group out of their reverie. “A party of nine shall make a party of ten.”

At her sister’s words, Nemain began to tighten various parts of her armor and fiddle with her weapons. “Take us to him.” It was a command, not a question, and The Dagda simply nodded.

He turned to walk toward the city. Fíadan, Nemain, the five Fiacha, and I followed to the eastern gate. The soldiers on guard were clearly perplexed by the arrival of their eldest lord, casually walking beside the last surviving king’s guard of former High King Bres and the most feared woman in all of Annwn. I was there too, but they seemed to take little notice of my presence. The gate itself was little more than a checkpoint, with little in the way of defenses.

“Hello, Philip.” The Dagda nodded respectfully to the commander at the gate. “It is bittersweet to see you in such a time. Will you allow us passage? We are in somewhat of a hurry.”

“We thought you were in the castle, my lord,” Philip stammered, nearly falling over himself to remove the simple wooden bar from across the road. “I’m so pleased that you are safe.”

“I would appreciate it if you could keep our presence here to yourself. As you can see, I have sought help in the business of reclaiming our home. But it will take time.”

“Understood. Ain’t none of us going to blow your plan.” He paused as if remembering who he was talking to. “My lord.”

“Good, good. Don’t suppose you have seen Aengus in this melee?”

“Word is, he was in Lady Strom’s neighborhood, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do indeed,” The Dagda said, patting Philip on the shoulder. “Thank you again.”

We continued a few steps past the gate, working our way into the lower city. It was still dark, and we kept mostly to the shadows on the quieter streets. We were moving too fast for me to ask who Lady Strom was, or why the god of Love was in the lower city during an assault on the castle.

The street we were on was impressively narrow. Both the ground cobbles and the buildings appeared to be growing together. I wondered if the builders of these stone houses had even heard of a right angle. The mortar between the stones were all different colors and there appeared to be some kind of graffiti haphazardly painted at various points on the stones of the walls.

After another quick turn, we saw them. Makeshift cots littered the crossroads. The injured were everywhere, some in the cots, some sitting wherever there was ground space, clutching bandages to their bodies.

Others walked briskly in and out of buildings, tending to the injured inside and out. With a jolt of shock, I realized the people in the street were overflow—the buildings were already at capacity.

Upon seeing us, a woman cradling her bandaged arm began to shout in delight. She practically jumped off of her cot, falling to a double-kneed bow. Within seconds, the chorus of cheers grew in volume. I began to see faces from inside of building labeled “Lady Strom’s” press against the front windows, peering out at us in joy. And that is when I got my first glance at the god of Love.