by J. M. Hofer
Garanhir turned toward his son. “This is wise. She is, after all, your bride-to-be, not Lord Bran’s. However, I insist you take another from our house with you—one of your choosing,”
“Of course.” Elffin nodded.
Bran sensed he already had someone in mind.
***
The next morning, Bran and his men left with Elffin and his chosen companion, Irwyn, the Saxon shipbuilder, who had been wooed to his court. Garanhir had been furious with Elffin’s choice, insisting he take a warrior instead, but Elffin flatly refused, stipulating it would be Irwyn or no one at all. Why he had chosen Irwyn, Bran did not yet know, but one thing became clear—though he was quiet and soft-spoken, Elffin was a strong man in his own right.
The party set out early the next morning with the sea to their backs and the wind whipping at them. They headed northeast, toward Lake Tegid, a day’s ride or so. Once away from the abusive wind and in the cover of the trees along the river, Bran took advantage of the opportunity to speak with Islwyn without being overheard. “Have you any ideas on how we can entice Tegid Voel to release Ula?”
Islwyn turned and looked at Bran with raised eyebrows. “I take it you don’t, then?”
“Well, none that I’m convinced he’ll be satisfied with.” Bran sighed honestly.
“I suggest we employ the Sisterhood’s help on this matter,” Islwyn advised. “Tegid’s daughter, young Creirwy, is among them, is she not? She would know more of him than any of us do, save Ula.”
“Save Ula or Cerridwen, you mean,” Bran clarified, “but we certainly don’t want her help.”
“No, we do not,” Islwyn agreed.
There was no denying the sisters would be the ones to ask for advice on how to handle Tegid Voel, but the idea of seeing Lucia stung Bran’s heart and pride.
“You fear seeing Lucia,” Islwyn ventured after awhile.
“I don’t fear seeing Lucia,” Bran snapped.
Islwyn clucked his tongue and raised his eyebrows in response.
“But I am certainly not looking forward to it,” Bran admitted in a softer tone.
“Well, I daresay it will be just as uncomfortable for her, though I doubt that makes it sound any easier.”
It did not matter, either way. Lucia had made her choice, and he was tired of brooding over it. After this business with Tegid Voel was resolved, he would return home and do his best to find a willing queen and forget her. Weakness and confusion were things he was not accustomed to, and he was eager to rid himself of both.
The day wore on and the men rode in silence except for the occasional conversation between the Oaks about the glorious feast they had enjoyed, or the beautiful women under Garanhir’s roof.
Elffin and his chosen companion, Irwyn, kept to the rear of the party. Bran had asked Maur to stay near them and keep an eye and ear out for the two, but, before long, it was no longer necessary; Elffin rode up to travel beside Bran.
“Tell me,” he began, “where does this Lord Voel live, exactly?”
Bran paused, considering how he would try to explain. “On the lake this river flows from,” he said after a moment. He could not very well tell him Tegid Voel was not actually a man at all and lived between worlds, could he? That sort of thing a man had to see for himself. “We should reach it by mid-morning tomorrow. There is an island in the lake which is home to an order of priestesses that are well-known to us. Islwyn and I will pay them a visit. The sisters know more about the mysteries of the lake and the people and places that surround it than anyone else, and Tegid Voel’s daughter lives among them. I am hopeful she may have some counsel for us.”
“What do you mean, ‘Islwyn and I’? You’ll not leave us behind!” Elffin protested.
“I’m afraid the Sisterhood won’t receive any but the two of us,” Bran explained. “In fact, I cannot be certain they will even permit me on their shores. The sisters are unpredictable, especially when it comes to men. Most are killed on sight, if they even manage to reach the island in the first place.”
That seemed to placate Elffin, but the worried look in his eyes told Bran he was still not happy about being left behind. “I don’t understand why we cannot simply go and visit the man together,” Elffin argued in exasperation. “Let me speak with him—what does he love most? Gold? Food? Wine? I can get him the finest, and enough for an army! If it’s a woman he wants, I’ll find him one just as beautiful and charming as Ula, along with the dowry of a queen!”
Islwyn looked over at Bran with round eyes and raised brows, and Bran nodded. It was time to tell Elffin the truth about who Tegid Voel really was.
“Lord Elffin,” Islwyn began, “this will be difficult to believe, but we are not dealing with a man like you or me. Long ago, he did walk the earth as a man of flesh and blood, but no more. Therefore, gifts of gold and food and wine are useless, for he lives within the veil, tethered forever to the lake, where he cannot enjoy the pleasures of this world.”
“What are you talking about?” Elffin asked incredulously. He looked at Bran.
“It’s true.”
“What do you mean? He’s dead? Or some kind of ghost?”
“No, not dead,” Islwyn replied, struggling to find the right words. “He is trapped between our world and the Otherworld, in a realm that is tied to the waters of the lake.”
Elffin sighed in frustration. “If this is true, which I find hard to believe, then how can we possibly visit him?”
“That is what we intend to find out,” Islwyn said. “I’ve no doubt the sisters can help us.”
Bran changed the subject. “Lord Elffin, tell me of your man, Irwyn. Why did you choose him to travel with us instead of the warrior your father wanted you to bring?”
Bran glanced back at the large Saxon riding last in the party. He was broad-shouldered and dark-haired, with leathery skin that had surely not seen many days indoors. He wore his mustache long, but, outside of that, Bran saw no shred of vanity in his appearance. He wore simple clothes suited to the weather, without ornament, and no jewelry of any kind. Bran’s glance did not go unnoticed. He and the Saxon exchanged nods of respect.
“He’s the only man in my father’s employ whom I trust,” Elffin confided. “He owes my father much, that’s true, but his honor is not for sale. Besides that, I’d wager he’s more capable than that boor my father favors. I’ve never seen a stronger man in my life. Shipbuilding takes a sharp mind as well as a strong back.”
“That I believe,” Bran agreed.
“You should see the ships the man has built!” Elffin exclaimed. “They’re like islands themselves…big enough for a hundred men to make the sea their home for moons.”
Bran smiled, excited by the thought of visiting lands across the sea that no one in the Great Circle had ever seen, and happy that Elffin had chosen the man to accompany them. He would be sure to make an ally of him, in case Garanhir might be tempted to be less than honest in the trade ventures he had proposed. “I can’t imagine anything more exciting than to take such a voyage myself,” he said to Elffin. “When the time comes, and the new ship your father spoke of is built, I must go.”
“That’s a request that must be made of the captain, but I can’t see you being refused,” Elffin replied with a smile. It slowly faded under his thoughts, however, and soon he was brooding again. After a few moments, he turned to Islwyn. “So, suppose this Tegid is indeed trapped in some kind of realm beyond our world,” he conceded. “What are we to do if the sisters have no advice to give us? Are you certain you can even get into this place to speak with him?”
Islwyn shook his head. “I am not sure of anything, Lord Elffin.”
“I can promise you this,” Bran interrupted, not wanting Elffin to lose hope. “We’ll find a way to offer the man everything in my power to offer, even if it means my own life, which is what Ula bartered her freedom for in the first place. I’m certain that even if we can’t find a way to cross into his world, the sisters will know how we can deliver this messa
ge to him.”
“Yes,” Islwyn confirmed.
“What do you mean she bartered her freedom for your life?” Elffin asked. “What did you do?”
“I killed his son,” Bran said bluntly.
For some reason, Elffin did not ask why. Instead he asked, “How did Tegid come to his fate?”
“T’was surely a curse of some kind,” Islwyn answered, “though by whom, and why, I do not know. This is also something I suspect the sisters might be able to tell us.”
Elffin nodded and asked no more questions. He eventually excused himself and rejoined Irwyn at the back of the party. Bran noticed they spent the remainder of the journey deep in conversation.
The party reached Lake Tegid by mid-morning of the second day. Bran sent his men home from there, save Maur, who would stay behind with Elffin and Irwyn until he and Islwyn returned from the island, hopefully with good news.
CHAPTER NINE
The Realm of Tegid Voel
As always, Bran felt surprised when the bow of the boat they had borrowed slid upon the sand of the Isle. It could never be anticipated, never seen, never navigated to—it simply happened when it happened, and always caused the stomach to leap.
Islwyn smiled and clapped his hands with satisfaction. “This means she will see us!”
Bran was quick to jump out and steady the tiny craft, helping Islwyn to shore. They made their way along the narrow path through the woods that led to the small village. Bran’s stomach began churning at the thought of seeing Lucia. Is this excitement or dread? He did not know. Perhaps both. It seemed the sun shined on the Isle alone, for the voyage across the lake had been beneath a grey and cloudy sky. Birds were chattering in the trees as they walked, and Bran found his spirits uplifted somewhat.
They were soon met upon the path by two women with bows slung across their chests, and Bran recognized one of them—the beautiful Creirwy.
“Lords Bran and Islwyn,” she said. “Priestess Rowan has bid us come and escort you to the courtyard. She knows why you’ve come.”
“Well, that’s convenient!” Islwyn said with a smile. “Lead on, dear girl!”
Bran cringed slightly at the old man’s familiarity, fearing Creirwy might find it disrespectful, but she smiled and kindly gave Islwyn her arm to steady his steps.
It was then that Bran noticed the other woman for the first time, for she came back to walk beside him. “Do you not recognize me, Lord Bran?” she asked.
Bran looked at her more closely. Admittedly, there was something familiar about her, but he could not place a name.
“Most know me as Llygoden,” she finally said, putting him out of his misery.
“Oh, yes,” Bran said with a smile. “You’ve become a woman since I last saw you.” She had indeed, and a quite beautiful one at that.
“I attended the Beltane festivities you hosted this year,” she said. “I understand if you don’t remember seeing me. Lady Lucia was clearly the subject of your attentions.”
Bran felt a wave of embarrassment, and she must have noticed, for she said nothing further about Lucia. Instead she asked for news of the clan, which he graciously supplied.
They soon reached the courtyard where they found Rowan waiting to receive them. “Thank you, Sisters,” she said upon seeing them. The two young women bowed their heads in respect and turned to leave. “Wait, Creirwy. I would like you to stay,” Rowan said.
Creirwy did as she was asked and turned back around, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Come and sit by the fire,” Rowan said to the three of them, taking Islwyn’s arm. Once they were seated, she filled two cups with apple wine and handed them to Creirwy to serve to their guests.
“It has been some time since we have seen each other, Lord Bran,” Rowan said.
“Yes, it has.”
“I suspect you have come about the selkie. We know she has not returned to Tegid Voel as agreed.”
“Yes, we have.” It did not occur to Bran to ask Rowan how she knew about Ula. She had her ways—and many of them. “Ula has become a mother and wishes to marry Lord Elffin of Caer Gwythno,” he explained. “I wish to visit Tegid Voel on her behalf and ask him to release her. We had hoped you might be able to help.”
“She found the babe in the sea,” Islwyn clarified, “and a wondrous babe he is. He shines as if the sun lives within his chest. He was born of a god, I am certain.”
Rowan smiled. “Born of a goddess, I think you mean?”
“Certainly born of a most extraordinary woman,” Islwyn conceded with a smile.
“The child was born of my daughter, who now resides in the Otherworld beside Arawn,” Rowan announced.
Bran nearly choked on his wine and Creirwy gasped, but Islwyn’s face looked as if the sun had shone upon it. “Of course!” he whispered. “How could I not have seen it?” He shook his head back and forth in disappointment with himself, while Bran sat in shock, slowly putting the pieces together in his head.
“She bore the child, as Arawn commanded, and set him adrift in the sea,” Rowan continued. “It seems fate has brought him back to us, and has chosen Ula to care for him.”
“Yes,” Islwyn said, “and all the more reason we must succeed in securing her freedom.”
“Wait.” Bran held up his hand to halt the conversation. “The Lord Arawn planted the soul of Gwion inside Cerridwen’s womb. I saw him do this with my own eyes. Doesn’t that mean this baby Ula’s found is actually Gwion, reborn?”
“Well, yes…and no,” Rowan answered. “His soul, as well as ours, has been, and will be, born more times than there are stars in the heavens. Gwion was but one face his soul has worn, and Aveta but one mother to have brought it into this world. His soul has now been reborn to a new mother, and wears a new face. The difference between us and the babe you speak of, is that he will remember all his faces, and all his mothers, and all the wonders he has seen in this world and the worlds beyond. He shall be the greatest bard and druid who ever walked the earth, for he will hold the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes.” Rowan paused a moment and then added, “Neither Lucia nor Aveta can ever know of this. Aveta would never stop looking for her lost son in that child. I am certain you understand.”
“We will say nothing of it,” Bran promised.
Islwyn was staring deep into the fire burning in the hearth, and began speaking, almost to himself. “I didn’t understand at the time,” he mused softly. “Shortly before the battle at the Crossroads, Gwion told me that someday I would be his teacher, and that with what I taught him, he would counsel the greatest of kings. He wanted to thank me for it then, because he would not have another chance to.” Islwyn then fell silent, leaving the others to consider his words.
“He was speaking of this lifetime, wasn’t he?” Bran concluded.
“Indeed, he was,” Rowan confirmed.
Islwyn shook his head. “I should have known—I’ve not been reading the signs.” He stood up and began pacing, stroking his beard with consternation.
Creirwy, who had been silent since she arrived, asked, “Is that why you asked me to stay? Because this child is a brother to me?”
“No.” Rowan shook her head. “I asked you to stay, because these men must go to your father and ask him to release Ula. I believe if you go with them, they will have a better chance of success. You must help to convince your father to let the selkie go. She is needed for a much greater purpose now than to keep him company.”
Creirwy looked at her grandmother in shock. “You wish for me to go to him?”
“Yes.” Rowan turned to address Islwyn and Bran. “Creirwy will accompany you. It is time for her to meet her father.”
Creirwy looked surprised. “But you’ve always said if I were to go to him, he would never let me go!”
“You were a little girl, Creirwy,” Rowan explained. “You’re a woman now.” Creirwy got no further comment or explanation.
“I wish to grant you one last thing, son of Agarah,” Rowan then said to Bran.
“Tegid Voel has eaten nothing but the fish of the lake for as long as he has suffered under this curse. Therefore, I grant you permission to hunt one boar from the Isle to take as an offering to him, along with a cask of our apple wine. Such gifts will no doubt loom very high in your arsenal of persuasions, for good food and drink are more valuable than gold to a deprived man.”
Bran nodded with respect. “Thank you, Lady Rowan.”
Rowan turned to leave, taking Creirwy by the arm. “Send Islwyn to the village for Creirwy when you are ready to go,” she said in parting, and the two women disappeared into the trees.
Islwyn looked at Bran and patted him on the back. “We’ve been favored by the sisters. This is a blessing and a good sign. May your spear find its mark quickly. I shall await you here, and pray awhile.”
***
Bran made his way to where Rowan had said the boars roamed. He encountered many deer, but, unfortunately, no boars. Hour after hour passed, until the day had nearly expired. Still, no boars. He dreaded the idea of returning empty-handed, but dared not hunt in the dark. He was just about to give up, when he heard a rustle in the grass at the edge of the trees. His stomach leapt with hope. He poised his spear and moved toward the sound, just in time to see a large doe lift her head and look his way before bounding off into the trees.
“Damn!” Bran lowered his spear in defeat. The sun was setting, and he was not happy about the prospect of spending the night out there. He had assumed he and Islwyn would be back with the others by now, sitting around the fire with a nice horn of ale.
A deer would please Tegid Voel just as much as a boar, he reasoned. He almost pursued the doe, but then thought better of it. Rowan had been very specific, and he dared not hunt any creature but the one he was sanctioned to.
The sun soon disappeared, and Bran instead put his efforts into making his way back to the courtyard. Again, he heard rustling in the brush. “So you wish to make a roasted meal of me for Tegid Voel, do you?”
Bran froze in his tracks. Am I going mad? He watched the ocean of tall grass around him, spear raised, waiting for the creature to move and give itself away.
