Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunset

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

“You could have at least cleaned off the filth. Your…appearance shows a lack of respect for the council.” Macha stared down her nose at me from across the table of the council chamber.

I glanced down at the dried blood and salt on my arms and shrugged. “I always dress up for the people I like.”

Macha appeared to take my meaning and stiffened. The rest of the council members just shook their heads at me… a gesture I had become quite familiar with over time.

Despite my snarky words, Macha wasn’t wrong to point out my current state. Morias and I had just made it back from Hook Head. We hadn’t had a chance to go to our rooms yet, let alone clean up. Erelith had found us as we were saying goodbye to Efa. Apparently, we were underdressed and late for the meeting in which we sat.

“Anyway…” Nemain said, breaking the awkward silence. “I am pleased that you and the Sage have returned from the coast without injury.” She looked at the salt and blood crust that caked my arms. I could tell that she was thinking about retracting her last statement. Instead, she continued. “I trust that whatever urgent errand took you to the Sacred Cape has produced fruit?”

“Morias wouldn’t let me stop to pick the fruit,” I said flippantly.

“And this is why Ellyllon are not permitted to sit on the city councils!” Macha said in disgust. “It is impossible to have a linear discourse.”

I opened my mouth to respond but stopped when I saw the frustration in Morias' eyes. His look implied heavily that I should stop talking. A vein bulged in his neck in frustration. I threw him a bone and just sat there, silent.

Finally, Morias turned his gaze away from me, turning to the tri-part sisters. “I believe Fíadan, with some aid from our former Prime Sage, has discovered the lost tower of Fintan the Wise.”

Badb and The Dagda looked suitably impressed. Nemain and Macha did not.

It was Nemain who spoke first. “Why do you seek an old laboratory in our time of rebuilding?”

The Dagda spoke before Morias could. “Because he seeks to learn from the last period of destruction and rebuilding.”

“That is correct.” Morias' agreement was more succinct than I was used to.

“And what have you learned?” Macha said, following her sister's inquisitive lead.

I knew the question was for Morias, but it took all my restraint not to announce that I had reaffirmed my preference toward killing giant fae serpents than I did to listening to the flowery speech of court. Luckily, Morias filled the silence more quickly than I could retort.

“Fíadan has planted the Mirrorstone in Fintan’s tower… and, might I add, has rid the premises of harm. Now that we have returned to Gorias, it will be my pleasure to study the famed contemporary of the Síorláidir.”

Macha opened her mouth to ask another question, but Badb cut her off in exasperation. “To learn about the fall of the Síorláidir and the rise of the Tuatha… a turning point in our past that has marked an age.”

“Until the Cold Moon…” Nemain’s words trailed off.

“What is it that you think the Old Powers can teach us?” Macha asked.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“They are our forefathers.” The Dagda replied.

“And mothers.” I offered, drawing a smile from him.

Morias straightened himself in his chair preparing what was sure to be a rousing filabluster of information. I swear I saw him take in as much air as possible before opening his mouth to speak.

“The answer to that question is multifaceted.” I sighed audibly, but he continued anyway.

“The finding of Fintan’s tower is possibly the most important discovery of our time. We could learn about the very making of Annwn. We could learn about the sundering of the isles and the purpose of Uffern. We could discover the decline of the old gods and possibly learn how to avoid repeating it. We could discover how the Treasures were made and who ultimately made them. And selfishly, I might discover my own origins and purpose.”

He finally paused to take a large breath. I saw everyone else do the same as if in some sort of sympathetic reflex. Macha was the first to respond and was clearly unmoved by the speech.

“We know all of those things, Sage. What we don’t know is why you are taking time and resources away from the raising and defending of Gorias when we from Findrias are dedicating our sole focus to this endeavor.”

“Because strife and war and murder require a new playbook.” The Dagda’s voice lacked its usual soft tone. “While we will forever be in the debt of our cousins from Cloudfair, I deemed it necessary for Morias and Fíadan to follow these ancient leads.”

“It matters not.” Nemain’s face twisted in annoyance, even more than it usually did when I was around. “What matters is that we have now secured Gorias. From a military standpoint, Gorias is better prepared for an incursion than it was before the Fomorian invasion.”

In my mind, I finished her thought. “Because no one has a better military than MY city. Gorias was not properly prepared before I whipped them into shape.” True… those were my own internal words, but that sentiment had come through joint council meetings for untold years.

Nemain was staring at me. My expression must have betrayed my inner thoughts. I gave her the sweetest smile I could muster. I even batted my eyes.

Aengus snickered. He knew my thoughts all too well. “And the militia is fervently motivated.”

“Yes,” Nemain admitted. “And that places us precisely where we need to be as a council.”

“Intermission?” I asked. I couldn’t help it. Most of them ignored me again. Badb smiled again. Apparently, I was as funny as I thought even if the person knew exactly what I was going to say, which was saying something!

“Gorias must decide whether to answer the call that will inevitably come from Falias.” Nemain paused and glared at the council members around the table as if daring anyone to challenge her assessment of the situation.

The Dagda didn’t seem surprised. “The implication being that Gorias will be called to abandon its walls in pursuit of assembling with the combined armies of all four cities at the call of the Overking?”

Macha sent him a sharp look. “And where, precisely, would the walls of Gorias be without the aid of our Overking and those armies?”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud. “So much for goodwill and altruism.” Someone had to say it, and it seemed like everyone else was too polite. Or more likely, too politic.

Macha glared daggers at me. “The Ellyllon does not deserve the great honor the people wish to bestow upon her.” Her farthing boons, not my rank in their world, was the only thing that kept me from jumping across the table and wiping that look off of her face. Even still, she visibly cringed at my murderous look.

“Yet it is the will of OUR people,” Aengus said softly.

“Wait a minute. What exactly are you talking about?” I asked. “What honor?”

“The changeling guards and the Ellyllon wish to reinstate you as the official Captaen of the Queen's Guard.”

“I am a King’s Guard,” I growled without thinking. That happened sometimes. My mouth often worked faster than my thoughts. I was immediately sorry, as the faces of Aengus and The Dagda fell, remembering the deceased former king.

“Fíadan…” Morias began with true sadness in his voice. “That is more than enough.”

The echo of his words sat heavy on the room as I felt all eyes on me. I hadn’t meant to cause anyone pain. I loved the noble house of Gorias and the family that ruled it. They knew that. But I had also reminded them of a different and painful time. The same painful grief they felt rose inside me as well, reminding me of my failure.

“And while we are discussing difficult topics,” Nemain said, cutting the quiet of the room. “I have disturbing news that will be difficult for some of you to hear.”

A faint smell tickled my nose. The metallic smell was as familiar to me as fallen cider apples on the southern Emain Ablach orchards. I frantically scanned the room for the source, finally spotting it. A subtle and barely noticeable drip of blood trickled from Nemain’s nose, so small that she didn’t seem to notice it. I glanced around the room, realizing that none of the council members seemed to have noticed…no one, that is, but Badb. Our eyes locked as Nemain continued, her voice ringing through the chamber.

“Bren Búachaill is now in league with his brother, Cai Maccán, and the Fomorian horde.”