Like Today is the Last Day

A Repost of Episode 1 of "Hiraeth"

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Hiraeth got its start at Stardust Press. It will continue on here at The Môrdreigiau Chronicles. Before the second episode is posted, here’s the first episode to get you caught up on the events. You will get to choose the direction of episode three!

After the episode I have Author Notes and a song from the Hiraeth playlist.

But first, the opening credits. (Use your imagination here!)

:Hold!: I shouted into the raging seas. :Hold on!:

Blinded by the storm surge, we clung to each other, the water tumbling and pounding us. The seaweed rope on my wrist pulled and stretched. I feared they would break. This monstrous storm threatened to tear us apart.

Darkness loomed ahead. Land or some undersea mountain.

:Hold on!: I ordered, begged. :Hold on!:

Myfanwy woke, twitching. By the Lady, she hated that dream.

:Majesty?: Gwalchmei’s thought sounded in her mind. :Bad dream?:

:How could you tell?: For someone not bound into the Chosen Court, Gwalchmei saw and understood more than most dreigiau môr.

He curled out of the sleeping position, his ice blue scales shimmering in the moonlight that trickled from above. :Your tail was twitching.:

:I’ll take the watch.: muttered Queen Myfanwy, leader of the Chosen Court, unreasonably annoyed at his obvious answer. :You rest.:

Gwalchmei murmured an affirmative and settled into a sleeping column.

The dreigiau môr, the sea dragons, hung vertically in the gloomy night sea, tails upward, seaweed ropes cuffing their ankles in case a rogue current separated them.

Or a storm. Myfanwy shuddered.

She surveyed the night-dark sea. Three others of the Court hung vertically in a loose circle. The sixth lay on the horizontal below them, wrapped in cordings of seaweed. Her head and tail drooped, her bioluminescence flickering and fading. Braith, her first and her closest friend, her prophet who began this Chosen Court. She hadn’t woken since the storm.

In comparison, the rest of them fairly glowed from their bioluminescent scales.

Suspended slightly lower than the five healthy members, Llewelyn, her Sword in the Court, burned red. Their handfasting a six-month ago made him naturally protective of Braith. Her coma incapacitated him more than the rest of the Court.

Each Chosen Court binds together, linking their hearts so they know when they are in danger and in quieter times, what each are feeling. Since Braith lost consciousness, their bond had weakened and faded. Amidst the grief, there had been misunderstandings.

Next to Llewelyn slept Medwyn, his green scales glittering in the darkness. As the group’s Healer, he kept within close reach of Braith. He had done everything he could to revive her but with the broken bond, his healing gift had less power than before. It was also difficult to practice healing in the middle of the ocean instead of Caer Morgana.

Home. Without Braith’s dreams to guide them, they would not be able to found a new city. Without Braith’s visions, returning home would be difficult.

Ceri made up the last of the Chosen Court. Her teal scales rendered her invisible during the day time, but the silver iridescence revealed her at night. The youngest and the smallest, the meaning of her Chosen Mark, a starfish symbol, had yet to be determined.

Myfanwy returned her gaze to surveying their watery surroundings. The ocean slept with none of the terror of that destructive storm.

In the morning, the Chosen Court surfaced off the coast of an island, transforming into their human shapes. A small island, a series of steep peaks ran along its back. The forest swept down to the beach without a break.

“It doesn’t look inhabited.” Myfanwy turned to Medwyn. “Gwalchmei and I will scout the perimeter.” She glanced at Llewelyn, who cradled Braith in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. Their dark hair fanned out in the water about them.

The island was not far from a much larger island that stretched in two directions without an end to the coastline.

Gwalchmei pointed to the bigger land mass. “Definitely humans there.” Myfanwy spotted fishing boats and white-washed houses clinging to the steep hillsides.

“We need to find somewhere to come ashore, to find clothing,” Myfanwy decided. “Let’s finish circling this island first.”

Only one end of the small island was inhabited, the buildings grey from neglect. Only a few had fresh white walls. A jetty ran a short distance into the sheltered harbour.

She pointed to the buildings. “We’ll steal some clothing and then find a healer for Braith. The other end of the island looks deserted. We’ll set up base and walk along the shoreline from there. It’ll be easier to walk with a human than to drag them through the ocean.”

Decisions made, Myfanwy and Gwalchmei returned to the others. They sank beneath the waves, becoming dreigiau môr. Myfanwy relayed their findings and her decision.

:Why not the coast?: Ceri asked in her young melodic voice. :We could blend in and not be noticed.:

:It’ll be harder to escape from,: Myfanwy replied. :They have a fishing fleet with nets and hooks and Lady knows what else. I saw one rowboat on the island.:

They came ashore. Llewelyn lowered Braith to sit with her back against a tree. He sat beside her, adjusting her position so she leaned against him instead of the tree’s rough bark. Myfanwy knelt by them for a moment, draping Braith’s hair to provide some cover for her naked form. Dreigiau môr are not shy but it’s chilly without scales.

“Leave her be, Myfanwy,” Llewelyn grated. “This is your fault.”

She refrained from reminding him that it was Braith’s vision that had sent them on this quest. Myfanwy rose and joined the others in foraging for branches to build a shelter and reeds to weave a makeshift blanket. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.

Myfanwy and Gwalchmei began the trek around the island’s edge. The forest offered no trails of any note, so they stumbled over boulders and past rock pools. When the tide changed, their path would become even more treacherous.

They reached the village outskirts. Gwalchmei spotted large cream sheets billowing on a line. He didn’t wait for her command but bent low, moving swiftly and returning with the fabric tucked in balls under each arm.

They draped themselves in the sheets, the fabric hanging in awkward and stiff folds. Myfanwy had seen humans along the coastline wearing something similar.

Once they checked that they each were presentable, the two strolled into town, the apricot-coloured dusty ground warm beneath their feet. Myfanwy hoped to spot sandals on someone’s doorstep.

Instead, all they found were lizards, sunning themselves on walls and steps, raising and lowering their heads in silent greeting. Overhead, seagulls whirled and squawked but didn’t linger.

:My sister’s a botanist.: Gwalchmei used thought to communicate. :She’d love it here.:

Myfanwy glanced sidelong at Gwalchmei. His white-blond hair, typical of bards, cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. Two narrow braids kept the hair out of his face.

:A sister?: Most dreigiau môr produced only one child. It had been that way for a couple of generations. Braith had a theory about that, and it underpinned their search for a new city location.

:Half-sister,: Gwalchmei amended. :Two different fathers.: We’d reached the square, not far from the jetty. “Where is everybody?” he asked aloud.

Myfanwy surveyed the square, looking at the empty windows, the ornate doorways. No humans. No animals, aside from the lizards. Yet no weeds grew and the square had been recently swept. “Who would build a village and then not live in it?”

“Exactly.” A sepulchral voice sounded from a darkened doorway. An old man stepped out into the sun, leaning heavily on a staff that towered over his head. He wore a long toga and sandals over his nut-brown skin. Straggles of long white hair drifted across his mostly bald scalp. He smiled, his wrinkles deepening, showing only gaps between blackened stumps.

“We need a healer,” Myfanwy demanded in his language. “Where are the other humans?”

The elderly man canted his head, eyes narrowing. “‘Human’? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

She bowed. “Forgive me. This is not my first language.” Myfanwy hoped the lie would be accepted. Dreigiau môr could naturally speak any language. That gave her pause. How had he understood them earlier? “You speak our language?”

His expansive smile might have been pretty once. It wasn’t now. His lips thinned and stretched. “Do I?”

They stared at each other.

“What is this place?” Gwalchmei put in, taking a step to stand in front of me, his shoulder between me and the stranger.

“The Romans use it to bury their dead. As in life, so in death.” He gestured to the buildings around us. “Perhaps a bit grander, perhaps a bit quieter.” He paused, examining us. “Until you.”

“We need a healer for our friend,” Myfanwy repeated. She pointed across the narrow channel, the wavelets dotted in white from the recent storm. “Will we need to go to the mainland?”

He opened his mouth, expelling a rasping hiss that I realised was meant to be a laugh. “That’s another island, domina. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What do you do here?” Gwalchmei shifted, blocking Myfanwy with more of his body. His arms tensed.

“Sometimes the dead are not so dead.” He shrugged. “I make sure they are before I help them across the river.” He saw their confusion before they hastily concealed it. “You really aren’t from around here. The river Styx. The dead cross it to reach the afterlife. The locals call me the ferryman.”

Wind gusted across the square, sending dust swirling in tiny whirlwinds.

Myfanwy swallowed. “How do you help them?”

“Your friend.” The ancient ferryman looked around. “Are they near? I can’t heal them but I can make their death swift and end their pain. It takes one touch from me.”

She and Gwalchmei looked at each other. They stepped backward. “We’d rather try a healer first,” Gwalchmei said.

While he spoke, Myfanwy sent a thought to Llewelyn and Medwyn. :We have found trouble! Get ready to leave.:

:Myfanwy? Is all well?: came the faint response from Medwyn. With the prophet comatose, their bond had weakened to the point that distance once again limited our communication. She could only hope if the worst happened, that the bond was whole enough to sense they needed rescuing.

The ferryman nodded to the other island, whose shores filled the horizon. “You could take your chances over there. But they don’t take kindly to strangers. Especially ones who come from this island.”

“Then we’ll find another island.” Myfanwy bowed. “Thank you for your advice, Master Ferryman. We’ll take no more of your time.”

Taking another step back, they turned as one and began to retrace our steps.

“I don’t think so.”

Gwalchmei cried out and fell forward. He tried to grab Myfanwy’s shoulder and failed, collapsing to the ground. On his back, below his shoulder, a darkness spread, the skin melting away like ice. Cursing, she knelt, sending what little healing ability she had toward it. The darkness halted, a turmoil of smoke before fading. The wound remained but it didn’t bleed or show signs of worsening.

“What did you do?” The ferryman leaned over them, eyes wide. “Why do you need a healer if you can do that?”

“I’m not gifted enough to heal my friend and neither is the healer in our group,” Myfanwy told him, pulling the semi-conscious Gwalchmei closer to her. He roused, blearily looking up at her. :Call for help,: I told him. :Shout.:

“Do it again,” whispered the ferryman, his eyes wide. With his tall walking stick, he poked Gwalchmei on the thigh. Again the darkness bloomed and again her emergency healing spells extinguished it.

She blinked up at him. “I thought you had to touch…”

“This pole and I are as one.”

Gwalchmei began shivering and she chafed at his arms. Myfanwy tugged at her makeshift toga, somebody’s winding sheet she realised, paling at the thought. She undressed and covered Gwalchmei with it.

The ferryman stumbled back. “You’re—you’re—you lack modesty!”

That was the least of her problems. What if Gwalchmei’s calls hadn’t reached the others? Myfanwy squared her shoulders. Only one thing to be done. Put herself in harm’s way and hope the Chosen Court’s bond hadn’t fractured to the point they wouldn’t know she was in danger.

A sweep of his white-blond hair partially concealed Gwalchmei’s face. Myfanwy brushed it back before she rose, arranging Gwalchmei’s slack limbs with tenderness. His hand gripped her ankle. :Don’t,: he begged, intuiting her plan. :Run, get out of here. I’ll—:

:Keep calling,: she snapped.

“We’ve established we’re not locals,” Myfanwy told him. “You’ve got no idea who you are dealing with. Let us go and we’ll leave you in peace.”

“Only mourners may leave.” He lashed out with the end of his long pole.

He meant to miss, to give warning, but she caught the pole with her hand.

His gaze narrowed and he bared what was left of his teeth. “Do you wish a quick death or a slow one?”

Myfanwy almost didn’t hear him over the searing agony in her hand. She released the pole and nursed her blackened hand against her chest, casting the healing spell through chattering teeth. The blackness faded, leaving her hand arthritic and clawed. The muscles refused to flex. A distinct chill remained and it slowly traversed her arm. She glanced over her shoulder at Gwalchmei, concerned that her healing spell hadn’t helped as well as she’d thought.

“Well?” the ferryman prompted.

“Slow.” Myfanwy squared her shoulders. “Infinitesimally slow, preferably.” She attempted a smile. “Perhaps I can return the favour. Would you like to be healed?”

The ferryman huffed a dry laugh. “I am long past that, domina. Nice thought, though.”

“I haven’t tried yet.” Myfanwy reached out her good hand toward him. She didn’t need to touch him for the spell to reach and take effect. Emergency healing spells take care of any wounds, cauterising any bleeding. The ferryman had none of those, so she focused on healing the vessels that carry blood.

“What are you—?” The ferryman sucked in a breath and expelled a husky moan. “No. No!” he repeated with more force.

She couldn’t see any change but kept repeating the spell. “I am life,” Myfanwy told him. “You are death. Life wins, ferryman, life always wins.”

With a grunt, he lurched forward and grabbed her forearm, sending death. Still sluggish, the darkness moved faster than before, speeding down her wrist and up her arm.

Myfanwy hastily sent the healing spell toward it. She sank to her knees, slipping free of his loosened grip.

“You will die today.” The ferryman leered. He grabbed her hair, jerking her head back to look up. “I will enjoy watching you die, nice and slow like you wanted.”

Death trickled down her hair follicles, reaching her scalp. Her clawed hands were ineffectual against his sure grip. Myfanwy stumbled over the healing incantation, forgetting a word, her vision blurring…

Air blasted chill around her naked body. Through the fog clouding her eyes, Myfanwy saw a blue crackling dome surround her and grow to take in Gwalchmei’s prone form. The ferryman had been forced back and another blue tinged blast propelled him through a nearby doorway.

Myfanwy slumped forward, face down in the dust.

The calls came from far away, muffled at first. :Majesty… Myfanwy… Myf…: She stirred, feeling the ocean’s cool embrace against her scales. Underwater. Safe. They had escaped.

Myfanwy blinked, her vision clear once more. She slipped free of Ceri’s grasp, sending her a thought of gratitude. :Gwalch?:

:I’m here.: He hove into view, rising from the depths below her. The iridescent tips of his ice blue scales sparkled, his white whiskers oscillating. His scales were stained dark at the points of the ferryman’s attack. :We’re twins now.:

:What do you mean?:

Medwyn approached alongside. :I couldn’t repair all the damage. We won’t know for sure until we resume our human forms, but your hair is white. Metamorphosing repaired some of the damage, although it could have made it worse. How do you feel? Gwalchmei complained of an inner lethargy.:

She mentally scanned her body, flexing her claws. One arm was darker than the other. :No chill, no lethargy. My hands seem fine.:

He nodded, and moved away, apparently satisfied by her answers.

:Myf.: Llewelyn’s vermilion body slid along hers. His short arms hugged her. :Don’t ever do that again. I can’t lose you too.:

She patted his flank. :We will find help for Braith, Lleu. We haven’t lost her yet.:

Author Notes

First, each of the episodes is a song title. Here’s the one for this episode:

It’s from the K-Drama, “Castaway Diva”, which I highly recommend.

How did this story come to be?

The Inception Story of Hiraeth (& More)

For this episode however, I thought about the Chosen Court being swept through the Straits of Gibraltar, which is where Braith probably got injured. What was nearby? That’s when I discovered there is an island off Spain called Dragonera. I kid you not. It’s largely uninhabited (except for lizards) and there are the remains of a Roman necropolis. That was all I needed, plus a teen obsession with Greek and Roman mythology.

PS. I originally planned to release Episode 2 next week … but there’s a Prompt Quest, so next week will be a short story from The Red Book of Rhiannon, and Episode 3 will release October 2nd (Aussie time).

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