Day 1 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Heart-shaped Pool, Midlands

Annwn

There were no buildings visible from the edge of the Heart-shaped Pool. There were only the tents of the Ellyllon fairies. We were shown to a larger tent that had several fineries to help us dry off and get warm.

Morias made tea, while Fí sat nearby, polishing her blades. Now that I could see them up close, I saw how unique the blades were (not that I was an expert on swords).

The matching set of blades included a dagger and short sword. Both were made of a gleaming white metal. There was no leather or wood on either blade, and there appeared to be no joints, no hammer marks, nothing to suggest anything other than the blades were each one piece of metal. Even the delicate lines of decorative curves and indentations appeared to have been intentionally extruded from the metal itself, thus reinforcing the idea that each sword was only a single piece of metal.

“Pretty, ain’t they?” Fíadan said when she saw me looking at them. “I call the big one ‘Swish’ and the little one ‘Stick.’”

“Very practical.” Even though I’d only know her a few hours, I wasn’t surprised that Fí would use onomatopoeia as the basis of her naming convention. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

Morias chuckled. “I’d suspect not. These were a gift from Goibhniu, the Smith. He made these blades from Duinnite ore, for the personal guard of the former High King.”

“What are they made of?” I found myself marveling again at the blades.

“It is called Silverwhite,“ Morias replied. “Weapons and armor made of it are grown with magic, not shaped by the fire of a forge. But it never blunts and never breaks.”

“A lot of good they did us.” Fíadan paused to look at me for a moment before continuing. Her eyes were large and sad. “These are the only Silverwhite blades left from the set.”

“Items made of Silverwhite can only have one wielder.” Morias paused, his eyes flicking to where Fí continued polishing the blades. “When the wielder perishes, so does the item.”

“I’m very sorry,” I said, realizing what that meant about the fate of the other guards.

Fíadan squirmed uncomfortably. “It was a long time ago.”

Morias gave Fí a soft, knowing smile and took the kettle off the fire. He beckoned to both of us. “Come… let us have tea and speak together. Tadg will return soon.”

“He’s probably fine,” Fí said. “But with all the stuff lately, I just don’t know… ”

Morias finished pouring the boiling water and brought us two steaming mugs of tea. He handed the first to me. “Burbling berry. If you listen to the leaves steeping, they say you will remember a long forgotten memory.”

Fí snickered. “You haven’t changed a bit, Morias. We could be here the next four hours and you’d still be talking about your favorite moon flower or a book written by some long-dead monk.”

“How should we begin?” Morias asked, his voice sharp.

She shrugged, unrepentant. “You’re the sage.”

The big man’s chest rose and fell in a silent chuckle, as he thought about how to start his tale. “There are two realms: Ériu and Annwn. Ériu is a nonmagical realm, named for its patron goddess. You call it Earth. Annwn is where we are now. It is the realm of magic.”

I sat still, holding the warm cup and breathing in the steam. I could hear a murmuring noise from inside the cup. As I listened, a memory came to my mind. It was of an old video that I had watched late one night. Some old YouTube professor had spoken about how fantasy novels always had a chapter he referred to as the “Treatise of Tedium.” It was the point in a fantasy or science fiction novel where the author would stop the story (and the action) and drop all of the important information about the world and the magic or technology system on the reader. If my life were a fantasy novel, this would be that chapter.

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Morias droned on, even though he could probably tell I was lost in my own thoughts. “The sentient beings in Annwn are called the Sidhe.”

Fí spoke up suddenly. “It means, ‘People of the Mounds.’” She looked very pleased with herself.

“Yes, there are a few categories of individuals making up the Sidhe. They are the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Fomorians, the changelings, and the Fae.”

“The Fae are the fairy folk,” Fíadan blurted. “That’s me.” She was brimming with pride.

Morias nodded. “Yes, though the Fae is a discussion better suited for another tea time. It is a fairly complicated topic.”

“I’ve heard you mention the Tuatha before.” I was starting to feel like I might one day understand the new world I found myself in.

“The Tuatha Dé Danann are the sons and daughters of Danu and Donn. The Greater gods of Life and Death respectively. They are immortal. They cannot…”

Fíadan interrupted again. “Tell him about the rules. Those are important.”

“Ah yes,” Morias agreed, “those are very important indeed.”

“Rules?” I asked, looking back at Fí in confusion.

She met my eyes. “Kinda.”

Morias very grandly repeated what I could only imagine was a mantra of sorts for him and others in this world:

“Annwn is the source of all magic.

Nothing ages in Annwn.

Gods never die.”

He returned to his normal voice. “They aren’t rules so much as they are just factual statements. If you can embrace these three laws of nature, you will have a firm foundation into the makeup of this world.”

“Magic comes from here, the Land of Eternal Youth. And don’t mess with the Tuatha. Got it.” I really did think I had a basic understanding of the world.

“That ain’t half bad.“ Fí looked mildly impressed.

“But, there is something I don’t understand…” I looked directly at Morias. “If you left this world so many years ago, how did you not grow old? ‘Nothing ages in Annwn.’ Things still age on Earth.”

“Ériu,” Fí corrected.

“Right, things still age in Ériu.”

Morias slapped my arm, causing my tea spill all over the place. “You ARE listening. Will miracles never cease!”

“I listen when things are interesting,” I muttered.

“Even so, you must let this old man have at least one secret.” Morias eyes twinkled with a mischievous light.

“Fair enough,” I said. “But tell me this…before we fought the hag, you told me that I was brought to Earth…”

“Ériu,” Fí corrected again.

“Ériu,” I repeated…again. “Does that mean I was born here?”

Morias turned to Fí. “I think you better take it from here, my dear Fíadan.”

“Four years ago,” she began, “there was something we call the Long Night.”

“Also called the Cold Moon,” Morias interjected helpfully. “It is when the full moon in your world falls on the winter solstice. It is a fairly rare astronomical occurrence, one that creates a fertile environment for magical anomalies.”

“Who’s telling this story?” She turned to Morias with mock outrage (or possibly actual outrage—it was hard to tell with her). “Anyway…you and one other guy came splashing outta this pool here about four years ago, on the night of the Cold Moon.”

“The Heart-shaped Pool?” I asked.

Morias nodded. “The Pool is often associated with Goddess Danu, and throughout history has been the site of many significant events: a severely wounded God being reborn, the spontaneous emergence of a new Fae species, and an occasionally significant crossover from Ériu”

“Yep,” Fí said. “That’s how the king of the Fomorians came here.”

“King Neit,” Morias began, but Fí glared at him, and he quieted.

“The Dagda…” she began and held up a hand before Morias could interject again. “The magic god sent me to get you out of the Pool before anyone else could find you.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He said that whatever was coming was significant.” Fí paused as if remembering. “He told me that my honor lie in protecting what came out of the water. So I took you as far from our realm as I could.”

“What about the other guy in the Pool?”

“I didn’t know there would be two of you!” Emotion flashed across her face. “Cai wasn’t even there when you came out of the water.”

“It’s okay, Fíadan,” Morias said in a soothing tone. “Tell us what happened to this Cai.” I was surprised to realize Morias didn’t have all the information either.

“I heard about it when I came back from Ériu,” she said. “The Fomorians found him in the water after I left with you. They call him Cai Maccán. Many believe he will bring change for their people.”

Morias looked thoughtful. “The Fomorians have always been at odds with High King Nuada and the Tuatha. But that, too, is a story for yet another tea time.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand why the Heart-shaped Pool now has guards,” I said.

Fí nodded. “Yep. Ever since the night of the Cold Moon, Nuada has kept a close eye on the Mag Mell.”

“On what?” I asked.

“The Plain of Delight,” Morias replied. “Also called the Midlands.”

“It’s ‘cause it is right in the middle of the continent,” Fí offered. “It’s MID island.”

A grinding sound came from outside the tent. It sounded like metal armor scraping against itself. There was also the sound of commands being given, and resulting footfalls on soft ground. The footfalls sounded like they were getting closer.

“Speak of them, and they shall come.” Morias nodded to the tent entrance. “By now Tadg will have had a chance to speak with his father.” Morias stood and smoothed out his clothes. “Let us see what the politicos have in store for us.”