Day 18 of Midwinter, Sunrise

At Sea, Lough Solais

Annwn

Hullraiser rushed forward, barely skimming the top of the water. The crew members held tightly to anything that was nailed down. Salt spray rushed across the deck, stinging my face. I was certain we had left the Cailleach Bhéara behind us, but I didn’t dare turn my head to confirm for fear of snapping my neck from the force of the ship’s acceleration.

“What is happening?” I screamed into the spray.

Fern, too, had a white-knuckled grip on the railing. “We are heading straight for Bren’s position,” she called back over the rush of wind. “I can feel it.” Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.

“Remind me to stay away from Shells of Promise in the future!” I shouted back.

“This isn’t the shell’s magic,” she responded. “Something else is using the shell to bring us together.”

“This IS Bren we’re talking about,” I called back. “At least now we can both throw up on him the next time we see him. It will be so romantic.”

Ahead, I saw the horizon nearing…fast. Chet, I realized, we were about to slam into the continent of Tir Tairngire!

“Brace for impact!” Commander Scolt had given up steering in favor of dangling from the helm, but his shouted order came through nice and clear. I’ll admit it was a nice gesture, but no one was actually able to brace anything, given we were all holding on for dear life as it was. Where was that farthing lubrican when you needed a spot of good luck?

I was tempted to squeeze my eyes shut as we thundered to the land, but if this was going to be my last moment of life, I wanted to see it coming. Still, I couldn’t help but cringe back…straightening again in surprise as I saw the raised mass of land ahead of us cleave in two just ahead of the ship. The water skipped the flat hull of Hullraiser forward and upward to be level with the land.

We continued like this, moving so fast that we blew by the outskirts of Cnoc Aine before I could properly verify that it was indeed the town where we had intended to dock. In moments, Hullraiser had passed onto the plains of Mag Mór, where I knew the Tuatha would be facing down the Fomorians, and the children of the Cold Moon, the earth breaking in front of us.

I had expected a battle larger than I, or anyone in Annwn, had ever seen, but what I hadn’t expected was to see the entirety of both armies standing together, the Fomorians at the head. The thousands of soldiers stood still…not fighting. Farthing hell, I thought, what was this? The mass of the army was facing the top of Tech Duinn, totally focused on it for some reason, at least, until they heard the very land under their feet crack as it continued to break a watery path for Hullraiser.

The ship began to slow, finally coming to a stop just behind the combined army. Behind us, the plain lay devastated. As it carved our path, the water of Lough Solais had exploded through the rock and dirt of the Mag Mór plains. The landscape of Tir Tairngire was forever changed. I swallowed, hoping no one would ask whose idea using the shell in the first place had been.

I hopped up to perch on top of Monty, motioning impatiently for Fern to do the same. She hesitated, a trepidatious look on her beautiful face at the idea of riding an oilliphéist for the first time.

“Monty, you won’t bite Fern if she rides you?” I asked the oilliphéist in its hissing language.

He looked thoughtfully at the selkie. “I might.”

I shrugged and beckoned Fern. “Monty said he would be honored to give you a ride!” She still hesitated. Sure, it hadn’t been an EXACT translation, but I figured it was probably close enough. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, lady, I’m going to go see Bren with or without you. Are you coming or not?”

Looking suitably uncomfortable, Fern stepped up to sit gingerly behind me on the back of the oilliphéist. Once she was settled, I urged Monty to take us to Bren. The oilliphéist flew from the ship to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. Startled soldiers parted when they saw us, and we sped through the path they opened. Monty hissed and eyed the army warily, but none of them attacked. Either they knew who I was or they didn’t like their odds, either of which was fine with me.

Before long, we came to the line of Fomorians and several of the Tuatha I had known for centuries. Brigid stood proudly among them, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest with happiness. The Dagda was with her, as was Ruadan, and next to Roo was Bren. Finally, I was back among my people.

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Bren ran up to meet us, his mouth open wide at Monty’s present size.

“Oilliphéist apparently grow really fast,” I said to him.

Before he could respond, Monty moved so quickly that Bren didn’t have time to dodge. Fern and I fell to the ground as the young oilliphéist coiled himself around his former master.

“Why did you leave me?” While I was no expert in the nuance of the oilliphéist language, I couldn’t help but notice the sadness in Monty’s juvenile voice.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Bren squeezed out. Interesting. It appeared Bren was able to speak with his former minion, despite no longer being bound with him. “I’m a big idiot.”

“I was all alone in that cave…”

Bren managed to wrest one arm free of the deep red coils to touch Monty on the side of his terrifying face. “I know. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Look!” Fern called. At the fear in her voice, I turned to look up the mountain, finally seeing what had held the attention of the combined armies. Thousands of the nastiest Bánánach I had ever dared to imagine were charging down toward us. Monty released Bren instinctively, giving a hiss that caused those nearest us to flinch back.

Fern turned to look back at Bren, her cheeks flushed. She had known the moment Bren had submerged her Shell of Promise in saltwater. How he had done that in the middle of Mag Mór, I didn’t know.

Fern held up her hand, offering the Stone to Bren. He took two running steps to her, ignoring the stone completely as he wrapped his arms around the selkie, burying his face in her long, dark hair. Fern allowed her arm to fall and returned his embrace, squeezing him just as tightly.

“I’m sorry that I had to call you now, and like this,” Bren finally said. “But there was no other way…”

“Shut up and just hold me a moment longer,” Fern replied, squeezing my favorite god of chaos tighter. I could see her tremble as her eyes remained focused on the Bánánach over Bren’s shoulder. She evidently had some residual fear from when she had narrowly escaped the Bánánach on The Stern Beauty that night in the Crosswaters.

When they finally released each other, he bowed and took the Stone from her hands. Turning, he saw me, a smile quickly lighting up his face.

“Fí! I’ve missed you, my friend,” he said, looking me over. His eyes caught on my jagged wing, and I thought back to the last conversation we’d had, just before I stormed Castle Arrow. I had told him, “Not all of us will make it back. I’m prepared to die here.” I knew that I was lucky to have only lost a wing.

What I said out loud, though, was, “You ain’t so bad yourself, Shorty. But I’m beginning to question these people you choose to hang around.” I nodded at the charging spirits.

He smiled that adorable crooked smile of his. “I have so much to tell you,” he replied. “Save me some time after… all of this.” I nodded, wondering if there would even be a time after this for any of us.

High above, the volcano exploded, sending fire and balls of molten rock high into the sky to arc in our direction.

“Shields!” a massive Fomorian at the head of the army snapped. He looked sort of familiar the longer I looked at him. Was that Bren’s brother? I took a second look, thinking he was kind of handsome…not that I was into excessively large warlords. The entirety of the army raised shields into the air to deflect the incoming projectiles.

I watched as The Dagda raised a small twig toward the sky, and a thin protective barrier formed over most of the army. Seeing him reminded me of the prize that I now carried…the Cauldron of Plenty. It belonged back with the god of magic. I was pretty sure I had enough time to make it to him before the Bánánach arrived, but knew there wasn’t enough to also make it back in time to stand with Bren and Fern.

That prompted a flurry of questions. Who would I choose to protect during the onslaught of supernatural gnashing and clawing? The Dagda, Ruadan, and Erelith huddled together near the red banners of Gorias. Bren and Cai would likely fight side by side. The other Tuatha were stationed near the bulk of their forces, and though I saw Nemain’s fiacha, I didn’t see Nemain herself. The black-clad Ellyllon who had sworn an oath of protection for Nemain now surrounded Macha. Whatever. The old crow was probably chomping at the bit with all this bloody mayhem about to go down. I was certain I’d see her in the fray before long.

The most surprising sight was the bulk of the Falias army, led by Dian Cecht. Not only did Nuada not have the Sword of Light drawn, but he appeared to be kneeling on the ground with some soldier.

At a flash of red dress, I knew exactly where my presence would be best served. My queen! The Breo-Banríon pushed her way through the crowd, and I knew returning the Cauldron to The Dagda would have to wait.

I charged toward Brigid, halting as a roll of thunder sounded. A cutting wind poured from the newly formed channel of water behind us, making my heart sink. The Hag of Winter had finally caught up to us. Now, we would be fighting on two fronts.

The bulk of the army was still gazing skyward after the last eruption. I followed their eyes with my own to see a figure of a woman wreathed in darkness. Her eerie voice echoed in the wind as it commanded the Bánánach below and the horde of boggle I now saw pouring out of the forest behind our army…fachan twisted and lopsided, trow lumbering with cruel strength, all bent to her will. Danu had come, bringing ruin with her.

Brigid’s crimson-clad figure stepped forward, her hair streaming behind her and her power blazing bright as a torch against the night. She fixed her gaze on the shadow in the sky. The Breo-Banríon would not bow; she would rise to challenge Danu herself.

My breath caught. I could not be in two places at once, and I found myself paralyzed, my heart torn in two even as my drawn blades itched in my hands. Brigid faced the Mother of the Tuatha, and the Hag of Winter bellowed from behind us, ready to spill certain death into our ranks.

Trapped in my indecision, I felt eyes on me, and I turned to meet the steady, certain gaze of Erelith. She had found me from across the chaos, and without a word shared, I knew that she would remain with Brigid, protecting our queen as I would.

Freed, I exhaled, my resolve sharpening like the wicked edge of my Silverwhite blades. With a fierce smile, I raised the girls high, feeling the deep wound in my stomach pull in protest.

“For the Queen!” I bellowed, even as my path took me away from her side toward the Hag of Winter and the death waiting in her wake.