Day 11 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Heart-shaped Pool, Midlands

Annwn

I sucked in a deep breath and held it, feeling a few of my ribs pop back into place from the inhalation. After the sound of Garbánach crashing through the trees subsided, I assumed the woods would become quiet and tranquil. Instead, I was overwhelmed with the sound of short little legs traveling in my direction.

A herd of stumpy animals charged after Garbánach. I still had mud in my eyes, so it was a bit hard to see clearly, but it looked like a pack of wild boars was hunting the ogre. I heard the voices of the men on foot, trailing the animals. Most ran past me, too, save for one.

“This one is still alive,” a voice yelled to his comrades.

“Find out who he is,” called another voice, this one getting fainter as he followed the mob in pursuit of the ogre and swine (a phrase I never thought I would have to think).

“Why are you naked?” The man said, offering me a hand up.

I started talking before my brain could catch up with my mouth. “Oh, I like to start my day with a jog in the nude through ogre-infested orchards.”

The man just looked at me, clearly unsure if I was messing with him. He let go of me, and I ever-so-gracefully splashed back down into the mud. My still-partially broken ribs screamed in protest, and I groaned.

“For someone with such farthed up…” he paused, motioning to his whole torso. “… everything, you somehow don’t look like you are about to go meet with Donn.”

“If you mean ‘die’, yeah, I’m pretty hearty that way. And I already died twice today.”

He gawked at me as I stood on my own this time and attempted to wipe the mud off my face. I walked over to the Pool and was about to step in when the man began to chuckle. “You got a pair on you if you are gonna go in there.”

“Yeah,” I said, lowering myself into the water and feeling the sweet release of all of my bones knitting together. The mud also washed away, leaving me looking like the healthy, naked man I was. “This is my third swim today.”

His eyes widened. “Who are you?” It was as if my willingness to break the sacred rules of the Pool had made him take a second look at me.

“Bren Búachaill. And you are?”

He picked up my clothes and handed them to me as I exited the Pool. “The name's Oisín. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Surprisingly, I think I am.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “You think?”

“It’s a long story. Let me ask you about this whole scene. What's going on with boars?”

He glanced into the orchard in the direction the procession of people and animals had run. “We are doing a service for Baile Toradh, hunting that ogre there.”

“Baile Toradh?”

“The farm on the north side of the trees. Large one, it is. Occasionally, they get pests coming down from the mountain. When they do, they seek out help to remove the pests.”

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I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of person I was talking to. Did this guy work for the kingdom, or was he a part of some sort of militia group or mercenary band? I suppose it was possible that Annwn had private organizations that employed people like Dog the Bounty Hunter, from back on Earth. “So, you hunt ogres?”

He shrugged. “We hunt whatever requires hunting these days.”

“What do you mean these days?”

He seemed unsure of how to answer. He looked me up and down as if trying to decide how much he should say. “Look, mate… I don’t know you, and I don’t mean any offense to Hightower and their ways, but the boys and I have friends who were kicked out of their homes after the declaration of war.”

“The Slaugh Doctrine?” I asked, remembering what someone had called it.

He nodded. “Diarmuid says that there will be hell to pay.”

“Diarmuid?” I asked, stepping around the mud. Now that I had my clothes back on, no sense making a mess of them. I came to stand near Oisín in the space between the trees.

“He started our fianna. He is kind of our leader if we had one.” He could see my confusion. “Are you sure you are from here?”

Based on context clues, I figured a fianna was some sort of warrior band, but I was still a bit confused. “How many men and women do you have in your fianna?"

“Depends on the job. We can call up as many as 50 sidhe when the need arises. Same thing is happening with the other fianna all over the Mag Mell.”

“People trying to make a living? Or people looking to get revenge on the capitol?” I tried to keep my voice neutral for fear of spooking him.

“Little of both, I reckon.” His eyes scanned the top of a nearby tree, somewhere behind me, and he chuckled. “Looks like the Battle Crow has taken an interest in our little hunt.”

I didn’t even have to look. I knew exactly what was perched up that high. The Battle Crow could only be a reference to the avatar of the Morrigan. Turning slightly, I could see the black feathers of a solitary Raven scanning the ground. It cocked its head at me when it saw us and let out a loud caw.

I nodded at the Raven, but I could feel Oisín’s eyes studying me and my response to the large bird. “Do I want to know?” he asked.

“Like I said before, it’s a long story.”

“Look Bren, I’m just now starting to put the things you have said together. You said you died twice today. At first, I thought you were maybe crazy, or that ogre had given your head a good knocking. Then, I watched you bathe in the Pool...and you are clearly being watched by The Morrigan." He took a step backward. "I don’t have anything against the Tuatha…”

“Hold on.” I held my hands up in a pacifying manner. “I’m just catching up on all the political things that have been going on here.” I looked back at the Raven and lowered my voice. “And frankly, I’m not sure I agree with all of it. But I certainly don’t mean you any harm.”

He gave me a cautious smile, but his eyes flicked back to the raven. He suddenly seemed to make up his mind about something. “Even someone who can go toe to toe with an ogre shouldn’t be in the Midlands without a weapon.” He reached into his belt and pulled out a dagger. Turning it over in his hand, he held it out to me by the blade.

I studied the weapon in my hand. My eyes ran down the channel etched into the flat side of the dagger, which I somehow knew was the fuller. I looked to the guard, and finally to the handle. I could feel the heft of the blade and knew the pommel didn’t properly counter the weight. Never before had I been so interested and knowledgeable about a weapon. Huh. Interesting.

“It’s not much, but it is better than nothing,” Oisín admitted. His eyes flashed behind me again, a look of panic spreading across his face. Without another word, he turned and ran into the woods.

Behind me, I heard the thunder of horses' hooves. I turned to see a whole company of armored changelings flanked by a squadron of airborne Ellyllon. They were upon me before I even considered running. I just stood there, having tucked the dagger as snugly inside my pants as could comfortably be managed.

One of the Ellyllon pointed to me and the changelings dismounted. A tall man drew his sword and pointed it at me. “In the name of Overking Nuada, you are being detained for swimming in the Heart-shaped Pool. You must face the judgment of our commander.”

I considered saying something sarcastic. I even imagined myself running through all the Matrix-style action sequences I wanted to try. Midway through my third mental slow-motion spin kick, the man with the sword (in real life) coughed to remind me of his pronouncement. I simply half-raised my hands and allowed them to be bound.

For whatever reason, the changelings didn't bother to search me. Maybe I didn’t look like much of a threat, or maybe they knew exactly who I was. Even so, I was not offered an easy way around the Pool. My hands were bound to a rope attached to the saddle of one of the horsemen. They were clearly going to make me hoof it back to Tadg’s camp.

I looked up at the Raven with an annoyed look. It didn’t say or do anything, only continuing to watch my plight with the soldiers. As I began to run south behind the small army, the Raven flew the coop.