Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Brú na Dallta

Annwn

I walked down the quiet hallway that led to my father’s chamber. Despite the late hour, I knew he would be awake, unable to rest after even the town’s successful defeat of the Bodach. There would likely be none sleeping in the town after the unexpected invasion of the Old Powers.

My brothers, Ethadon and Caicher would be nearby in adjacent rooms, likely flanked by numerous changeling guards and a handful of faithful Ellyllon.

Despite all of it, I needed to see that my family was safe, that they had survived the attack of the clawed demons that had plagued my nightmares as a child. Even as my feet carried me down the hall, I scolded myself for caring. After all, they had been the ones to toss me aside and imprison me with Bren.

In the war that raged across Annwn, there was no greater enemy to my father than Bren’s brother, Cai, the new warlord of the Fomorian horde. It had been my declaration of friendship with Bren that had sealed my fate. He’d been suspicious at my release, and in his mind, my defense of Bren had only confirmed that I must be a traitor.

Yet he didn’t know the conflict that raged in my heart. Father was strong, and I had looked up to him and sought his approval at every moment of my life. I had never questioned the rightness of my father’s decisions or actions until Bren opened my eyes to the dangers of his absolute power.

My family had declared war on the Fomorians, but we had also turned our backs on the fae. All my life, I believed in the laws of Annwn, the most important being that the gods never die. But my father had murdered his nephew and stolen his domain. He’d attempted to gain control of the Four Treasures.

I was complicit in another of his crimes, the capture and imprisonment of the Breo-Banríon. The former Fiery Queen was beloved in the land, even beyond her home of Gorias. She was my kin, and I had willingly marched her into the proverbial lion’s den, believing blindly in Father’s vision for Annwn.

I had thought of little else since my time in the Deep Realm. Though I had done many regrettable things, believing them to be for the good of the realm, marching Brigid into Falias wounded me the deepest now that my eyes had been opened.

She lived still, locked in the tower. Brigid lay in a forced torpor she might never wake from. I didn’t know why Father hadn’t killed her as he did Bres. Was it the power of her domain that stayed his sword? Or had it been easier for him to murder Bres simply because he had the blood of the Fomorians running through him?

Thoughts swirled in my mind, and something inside me changed. I stopped in the dark hallway and thought about my actions. Just ahead, I would find my father surrounded by his loyal advisors. None would dare contradict him in his war plans. My proud and envious brothers would be near, imbibing our father’s worst qualities.

I stood frozen in the hall, hearing the familiar voices of my family murmuring just ahead, knowing that when the next battle came, my love would drive me to protect them. But I also knew that if I stepped into that room, they would lock me up again, just as I had done to Brigid.

Ahead, beyond the maze of hallways and corridors in the compound, the harbor bell rang, signifying the coming of the Fomorian fleet. Father would answer this call to arms. I could hear him shout for someone to lash on his armor. He must be nearly ready. Soon, they would exit the building using the hallway I was standing in. I should have been worried about being discovered, but instead, I felt… numb. My body felt like a vessel adrift in the sea, without wind or waves and lacking momentum and bearing.

A glimmer of light near the doorframe caught my eye. Leaning down, I saw a scabbard containing a familiar handle. I had taken the bloody, well-worn blade I was currently carrying off of one of the soldiers who had fallen fighting the Bodach. While that blade was mundane in nature, the sword on the floor was not.

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No, this was one of the renowned King’s Guard sabers. I picked up the sword, which had a short cross guard. The scabbard mirrored the curved tip of the one-sided blade inside. Turning it, I saw that the pommel read “Gealltóir.” Vowkeeper. I smiled. That would do.

I gently placed my borrowed blade next to the door so those behind me would find it. Gripping Vowkeeper, I turned and began walking back the way I’d come.

When I exited my father’s section of the building, I hooked back around to the rear of the complex instead of heading toward the harbor. There were no guards at the rear entrance. All of them had rushed toward the sound of battle. I knew I would eventually run into someone loyal to my father, but where I was going, I would also find friendly faces.

Popping out into the morning light, I took in the landscape of the partially walled-in pasture. To my left were the stables of the king. A thundering of hooves sounded. It was accompanied by a whinny that was music to my ears. Gaoth, the fastest warhorse in all of Annwn, halted his cantor just steps from where I stood. From behind him came the familiar hearty laugh of the stable master.

“I knew you must be near,” Bairic said. “Old Gaoth here has been inconsolable since last evening, probably wonderin’ why ya hadn’t come to see him yet.”

I felt a smile stretch across my face. The man was an old friend. He was charged with tending the mounts of the king and his immediate family. My brothers and I had spent countless hours in the stables tending to the horses, and even more in the saddle, posting according to Bairic’s instruction.

He was the only man I knew, other than Morias, to have ever openly disagreed with Father and kept his job. Their disagreement had been about Gaoth. Father had been adamant the warhorse go to my eldest brother, Caicher.

Bairic insisted that Gaoth would only let me ride him. And up until Bren had stolen away on Gaoth from the Heart-shaped Pool, he had been right. Unfortunately for my brother, Father had insisted Caicher try to ride the stallion named for the wildest part of nature. A few broken ribs later, Caicher managed to convince Father that perhaps Bairic had been right all along.

I clasped the giant forearm of the man. “You are a sight for weary eyes, my friend.”

Bairic gripped my hand, his eyes looking me up and down. I knew I must look haggard after the events and revelations of these last few days.

“What? Has your old man not included you in his war?” Clearly, he thought that I was bothered by not being on the front line with the Overking and my brothers.

I forced a laugh and shook my head. “I’m afraid I may have permanently fallen out of Father’s good graces this time.”

“Nonsense, lad,” Bairic said. His big hand rose to stroke the side of Gaoth’s muzzle. “Your father loves his family more than anything else in this here crazy world of ours. And there ain’t nothing you can do about that.”

“Even if I oppose his war?”

The big man paused at my words. He turned, studying me. More time passed, and it became clear to me that he wasn’t simply thinking about what I had said. He seemed to be carefully weighing his next words. “So, one of ya has got some sense after all.”

I raised my eyebrows at that statement and he tensed. Then I smiled and slapped him in the arm. The tightness of his weathered face eased, and he reached forward to gently set Gaoth’s lead in my hand.

I held his eyes. “You realize you’re going to get in trouble if you let me take him, right?”

Bairic gave me a sad smile and shrugged. “Where will you go?”

“I need to get back to Falias before Father returns.”

“Don’t go through Murias. It’s faster to go through Deepwater, but someone will recognize and detain you there.”

I thought about that. He was suggesting that I take Gaoth the long way around Tech Duinn, through the Midlands. “Mag Mell presents its own challenges.”

“If ya can stay away from the fachan and the trow, Gaoth should get ya there in under two moons.” He looked at the prancing warhorse with pride in his eyes.

I wondered how long the battle would rage here in the harbor, and if Father would choose to stay on another night in Brú na Dallta. Not likely, after the events of the previous night. Taking the longer route would be close.

I noticed Bairic studying me in a manner that I was unaccustomed to. Seeing my gaze, he cleared his throat. “Something is different with you, my boy. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“That makes two of us,” I muttered.

He laughed and urged Gaoth closer to the stables. We both began getting my mount ready to ride. “What’s so pressing back in Hightower, if ya don’t mind me asking?”

“There is a sin I need to atone for,” I said, intentionally trying to keep it vague. The less Bairic knew, the better it was for his own well-being. I swung myself up, resting my weight upon the familiar saddle. He nodded and handed me the reins.

“Be careful with our beautiful boy here,” Bairic said, reverently resting his palm on Gaoth’s broadside. “And be careful with your own arse. War changes a man. Be sure it is changing you for the better.”

I nodded, then turned, urging Gaoth into a full cantor. His hooves thundered, spiriting me away from my home. As the world passed by me at impossible speeds, Bairic’s words echoed in my mind. I wondered, not for the last time, how this journey would change me.