Missing

Episode 2 of "Hiraeth"

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In episode 1, Myfanwy and Gwalchmei went in search of healing help on a small island and found a Roman necropolis and the Ferryman, who makes sure the dead are really dead before he takes them across the river to Hades. The Ferryman refused to let them leave, attacking first Gwalchmei, then Myfanwy with his killing powers. Myfanwy tried her healing powers upon him to mitigate the damage and on the verge of losing, others of her Chosen Court come to their rescue, using the blue defensive shield that the Chosen Court wields when one of their own is in danger. Myfanwy is much changed, but she is determined to find a cure for Braith.

Note: All Episodes has a character list in case you need it. It also links to a glossary of Welsh terms used.

The Chosen Court swam just off the coast, surfacing occasionally to check for human habitation. They came across a number of ports and fishing villages and each time they did so, they swung further out to sea to avoid detection.

At last, they came across a promising location. A village that perched on a cliff’s edge, with a pathway carved down to a small sandy beach. Tumbled rocks narrowed the cove’s entry.  It lacked a harbour.

:I see only a rowboat or two.: Myfanwy pointed to the east of the village at a small beach. :We’ll come ashore here and make camp. Gwalchmei and I will go into town.:

:That worked so well last time,: Ceri interrupted, lip curling. :One rowboat was more than enough to get you into trouble.:

Medwyn frowned. :I’d prefer to have the two of you take a little more time to recover from the ferryman’s affliction. Stay with Braith. Lleu and I will go this time.:

Llewelyn looked conflicted, his arms tightening about his unconscious partner. :Leave Braith?.:

:We’ll keep her safe,: Myfanwy murmured. :You know I would give my life to bring her back.:

:You damn well nearly did,: Llewelyn grumbled. :And for what?:

Myfanwy had no answer for that. How was she to know the being that called himself the Ferryman brought only death and not life?

:I’ll come with you,: Ceri said, breaking the tension. :A female will make us look less threatening.:

:It’s a rebellion: Myfanwy’s smile belied her complaint. :Medwyn, we’ll do as you suggest. I don’t object to a day’s rest.:

Once ashore, the shelter was soon erected from pine branches that had fallen from the cliff tops above them. They chose a place tucked in amongst the rocks, rendering them hidden from boats passing by and concealed even from above. Ceri had kept Braith’s blanket from their previous landing and covered her with it before hurrying to catch up with the two men as they climbed the steep path, heading for the small village.

Myfanwy didn’t like being left behind. She sighed, staring out at the ocean. Their makeshift lean-to was hidden from the sea by foliage and she marvelled at how the light dappled across the ground, almost like sun filtering through the ocean’s swell.

Gwalchmei settled next to her, casting a quick look over Braith’s still form. “May I ask you something personal?”

Myfanwy darted him a look. “Is this in your capacity as bard, Gwalchmei?”

He shook his head and then shrugged. “Perhaps in that it gives me a little background to the story I would create.”

Myf appreciated his honesty. “What would you like to know?”

“You are the only one in the Chosen Court who has married—”

“Lleu and Braith are handfasted,” Myfanwy put in. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going.

“If you’ll let me finish. You’re the only one who is married and has left behind husband and children.” Gwalchmei paused, his gaze darting about the shelter and outside. “Do you … do you miss them?”

Myfanwy exhaled, stretching out her legs before her. Leaning back, she gazed up at the pine branch roof. “Every day. Little Nia and Dafydd especially.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gwalchmei tense and give a careful, casual nod. “Of course, and Consort Hywel?”

Myfanwy gave him a long look, considering how truthful her answer should be. “How much do you know about my marriage?”

“I know you’ve not spoken of him once since we left.” Gwalchmei murmured, his gaze a gentle searching for the boundary he surely knew he crossed. “Of your babies, yes. I had thought it was a love match, but lately … lately I’ve wondered.”

“And how does this affect the telling of your tale?” Myfanwy asked acerbically.

“Myfanwy…” She could have sworn hurt flashed in his expression. They lacked the close emotional bond that came with being bound into a Chosen Court and it startled her that she could read him so well. He looked away, out to the ocean. “Forget I asked.”

In the silence that came after, Myfanwy wondered at his asking. She gazed at his profile, trying to gauge his intent. His eyelids flickered in her direction briefly but he kept his gaze focused upon the sparkling waves.

Dressed in clothing stolen from an outlying building, the three dreigiau môr entered the village. Their arrival caused whispers, reminding Ceri of the gossip currents of home. They reached a small plaza, an open square packed with stall holders and shoppers.

With their gift of language, they soon understood the overheard conversations. Medwyn stopped a man. “Does this village have a healer?”

“A doctor?” the man asked. Bright, dark eyes shone out from his sun-browned skin. “We have one. Who is asking?” He glanced uneasily over Medwyn’s shoulder at Llewelyn’s muscled physique and at Ceri, who beamed a smile at him. His gaze softened.

Medwyn answered. “We are travellers from over the sea. There was a storm and one of us is living and yet hasn’t woken. I am a healer myself but I haven’t been able to bring her back.”

The man frowned. “Our doctor is good but … you might be asking the impossible. Come with me. This must be discussed further.”

The trio trailed in his footsteps. He approached an older man standing outside one of the simple houses of stone and stucco. White silvered the dark hair of his temples. Ceri’s eyes widened. He wore a torc, made of blackened metal that shone faintly. Myfwany wore one as Queen of the Chosen Court. Were these lost relations?

The older man beckoned them forward. “I am chieftain here. Our doctor is excellent but where is your patient?”

“Your doctor will understand the importance of reducing a patient’s movement,” Medwyn met the chieftain’s frowning gaze.

The chieftain turned aside. “Send for the Asclepius.” He revealed the building’s low doorway. “You are welcome to enter and take refreshment.” He surveyed the three of them. “No other injuries?”

Medwyn paused. “We do have two others in our party who are still recovering, but they are nearly healed.”

He nodded. “Come in, come in!”

They entered the cottage, plunging into near darkness except for the low flames in a fireplace in the centre and the light from the doorway behind them. The chieftain gestured to cushions for them to sit upon and called for refreshments.

Ceri carefully sipped the foamy beverage and found it much to her taste. Her eyes widened appreciatively. “I have never tasted anything like this!”

The chieftain laughed at her expression. “It’s a gift from the river. We brew from her clear waters and our beverage is renowned in the region.”

Medwyn carefully set down his wooden cup. “It’s an honour to be afforded a taste.”

The bright doorway was blocked by one figure then another. As they drew close to the fire, Ceri saw that one wore bright white robes, quite unlike the undyed fabric of the villagers. The other wore an armband of orange, which flashed in the firelight as he bent to whisper to the chieftain.

The chieftain nodded and gestured to the white-robed man. “Our Asclepius.” Medwyn and Asclepius fell into conversation at once. Ceri let her attention drift as she drank, examining the chieftain and the woman who knelt beside him, an earthenware jug in her hands.

:Something is off,: Llewelyn warned them both. Ceri sensed the warning went beyond them to Myfanwy and Gwalchmei but she didn’t hear their response.

Ceri set down her cup, almost empty, her gaze measuring the distance between her place and the doorway, her only escape route.

“I will see this patient and render what help I can,” the Asclepius said. He looked to the chieftain.

“You are far too valuable to leave the village. Take half a dozen of my men with you—” He paused. “That may not be enough. We have had word of brigands in the area.” The man with the orange armband shifted at that. “It is too much of a risk.”

Llewelyn looked pleadingly at Medwyn, his brash façade cracking.

Ceri’s heart broke a little at that. “I’ll stay,” she offered, rising. “I’ll stand surety that no harm will come to your doctor from our group.”

:No,: Medwyn and Llewelyn thought at her with shocked urgency.

:If it saves Braith,: Ceri told them. She bent and scooped the cup from the ground. “I will enjoy this delicious beverage and your company. I’ll still be sober by the time your man returns.”

The chieftain barked a laugh. “Done!” He stood. “Go and be back before sundown.” The doctor began to protest. “Sundown,” the chieftain pressed.

The doctor bowed in submission.

They’d not been gone more than an hour when Ceri blearily noticed an influx of men into the chieftain’s cottage. The drink had affected her more than she thought. With her promise of sobriety, she’d been reduced to taking tiny sips.

The men dashed from the room, followed by the chieftain who grabbed a long spear on his way out. His serving woman came to crouch beside her. “Domina, we must move to a place of safety.”

Ceri stared up at the woman, eyes wide, finding it impossible to get brain and limbs moving at the same time. “What do you mean? Safety?”

The woman sighed. “Perhaps best to finish your drink, domina. It’ll go easier for you if you do.”

Ceri ignored her advice, struggling to rise. The woman took her arm and they shuffled toward the rear of the cottage. Another room lay beyond and an open trapdoor.

Shouts came from behind them. Ceri turned, ignoring the woman’s pulls on her arm.

“I’m sorry, domina!” The woman released her, diving for the trapdoor, pulling it shut behind her.

Men crowded the cottage’s entryway, and fell with gurgled cries and curses. New figures stepped inside, wearing mismatched leather armour. Ceri kicked a rolled up rug over the trapdoor. It was too late for her, but she could still save the others.

She raised her cup. “Gentlemen!” she called, stepping into the large main room. “A toast?”

A burly man stepped forward with a snarl, axe raised.

Ceri came to some time later, her head swinging upside down off some sort of smelly beast. She promptly vomited, her belly ejecting the precious beverage she’d recently consumed, and bits of fish from her breakfast.

“You’re awake,” a man’s voice said. Her animal halted and rough hands hauled her off and up. “Good. You can walk.” He slung a sack onto the beast, some sort of four-legged creature with a cropped mane and a white starburst across its dusty, grey rear.

She couldn’t even lift her head to see her captor, groaning when he shoved something blunt against her ribs.

“Move!”

She staggered forward, her head swirling. She remembered alcohol and smoke and blood. Her stomach heaved. Ceri bent over, trying to breathe, trying to eject whatever unsavoury brew still lingered in her guts. If she could just catch a breath. If she could…

She managed a step, and stumbled. Something restrained her steps. She blinked down at the bands of iron and the chain binding her ankles. Enough to walk but not to run. Ceri lifted her head, seeing the ocean glinting in the distance. Hills, so many forested hills, rolled between her and the sea. The landscape wavered in her vision. She stood on a flinty ridge, the earth falling away in a steep scree on her right. To her left, a scraggly forest of pine, olive and oak clung to the hillside.

She sucked in air. Hot dry air without a hint of salt or sea in it. Ceri fell forward in a faint.

Myfanwy’s and Gwalchmei’s nakedness startled the villagers who came to their camp. One handed Myfanwy a cloak. She wrapped herself in it, thanking him.

“We lost everything in the storm.” Gwalchmei said, closely watching the villagers.

Greetings exchanged, Medwyn and Asclepius entered the makeshift shelter, the two men kneeling beside Braith’s still form. The other three dreigiau môr waited outside with the armed villagers. One of the men returned from scouting the area, muttering to the group’s leader.

“I’m leaving two men here,” their leader said. “This is clearly not an ambush. The Asclepius will return to the village with them.”

“I’ll come with them then, to retrieve our friend.” Llewelyn drew nearer to the shelter, as if by his presence he could will Braith awake.

Myfanwy watched the villagers leave. She headed for the shoreline, keeping an eye on the two village men remaining.

Gwalchmei followed. They walked along the shore in silence. Myfanwy enjoyed the tickle of sand and wave amidst her toes.

“Gwalch,” she murmured, breaking the silence.

“Mmm?”

“Hywel stayed behind to care for and raise our children. I couldn’t bring them with me, not when I didn’t know what dangers we faced.” She bit her lip, staring out at the sea and trying to steady her breathing. “If I had lost either one of them in the storm…”

She glanced aside at Gwalchmei. He stood alongside her, also gazing toward the horizon. A light breeze sent his fringe dancing across his forehead. His head turned, catching her looking.

“You refer to Nia and Dafydd. And your consort?”

Myfanwy slowly let out a shaky breath. “For all that was said about it, Gwalchmei, it was not a love match.”

His dark blue eyes crinkled. “Then what was it?”

She shook her head, turning back to stare unseeing at the waves burbling in. “It was necessary.”

Gwalchmei touched near her elbow. “Myf—”

Medwyn hailed them from the shelter. Myfanwy hurried back, slipping in the sand.  “Asclepius will return with additional supplies,” Medwyn told her. “He needs to spend some more time with Braith. If he cannot help us, he says there’s a healing centre further up the coast.”

Llewelyn, the Asclepius, and the two villagers set off for the village.

Ceri’s fear washed over the dreigiau môr hearts. Ceri’s confusion, terror and finally determination. All four dreigiau môr broke into a run, scrabbling up the narrow stairs cut into the cliff face.

The astonished Asclepius and the two villagers broke into a jog after them. Their half-hearted attempt burst into earnestness when they saw plumes of smoke rising from the village, too big for cooking fires.

Ceri woke to darkness and something cool dabbing her brow. She breathed in, groaning. The air tasted sweeter here, promising of the sea. Her spinning head told her the promise remained far off yet.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar man’s voice murmured.

Whimpering, Ceri curled up in a ball, moving as far as she could from that voice, pressing against a wall of rough-hewn wood, the splinters digging into her skin. The last time she’d heard that phrase, the hands had hinted at easy violence.

“Shh, easy, easy,” the man murmured. He didn’t touch her. “I’ll not hurt you. You’re safe now.”

She remained still, holding her breath.

“I found you on the hillside. The traders have no time for sick slaves, although I’m surprised they let you live.”

“Where… where are we?” Ceri whispered into the dark.

“Far from anyone,” the man soothed.

“Slave?”

“Your wrists and ankles are blistered from the irons.”

Blinking, Ceri remembered. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, oil lamps and a small fire providing warm light. She uncurled with caution, her gaze upon the man crouched beside her narrow cot. She sniffed, her nose crinkling. “Why do I smell so bad?”

The man chuckled. “I put poultices on your injuries. Let me attend to them.”

“Injuries?” In the half-light, Ceri watched him examine and tend to her wounds. He had a strange oily odour from him that also comforted her but with his back to the fire, his features remained in shadow. The back of her wrists had the worst gouges where the irons had dug into her skin.

The man dabbed one of his stinky poultices on her elbow. “You must have been unconscious when they threw you down the scree, for the grazes are random. You didn’t try to stop your fall.”

Ceri could not remember and if she tried, her vision started spinning.

“Lie down and rest,” he advised. “If the smell is still too much for your tender nose in the morning, there is a small hip bath, although the water will be cold.”

In the morning, Ceri watched him bring bucket after bucket of water for her, sloshing it into a small metal hip bath. The man still held the roundness of youth in his handsome face. He wore nothing but a cloth girdled and wrapped about his hips. His lean muscles flexed as he emptied each bucket. She stared at his broad shoulders and back, tapering down to the scrap of cloth at his hips.

She uncurled from the cot, the blanket puddling about her waist. She set bare feet upon the packed dirt floor and forced herself to look at her new surrounds in the daylight instead of this stranger who had offered such generous hospitality.

He possessed little. The only furniture was the narrow cot and a low stool. The battered hip bath seemed like an out-of-place luxury.

He cleared his throat, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “I will give you privacy. I’m afraid I don’t have anything fresh for you to wear but I’ve beaten the dust out of your tunica.”

“Please stay.”

He folded his arms and gazed at the ceiling’s low beams.  “Domina, it’s not appropriate—”

She crossed to him, leaving behind the blanket and the modesty the young man yearned for. “That is for me to say.” She laid her hand on his forearm.

His startled glance swung to her and away. “Please…please, go bathe.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

She turned her back to him and stepped into the chilly bath. “I don’t even know your name.” From the corner of her eye, she kept him in view.

He kept his gaze downcast. “Bernardo.”

“My name is Ceri.” She sank down into the hip bath, her knees nearly touching her chin.

“Ceri.” She heard him taste her name. He sucked in a breath. “What is that?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Your back. There’s a faint blue glow…”

“Ah.” Ceri shifted her hips to angle her back away from him, revealing the curve of her breast. Bernardo blushed and stared at the low ceiling. “It is a blessing from the goddess.”

“Which one?”

She shrugged. “She may have a different name here.”

“Does it … hurt?” Bernardo found the lintel an interesting spot.

“Not at all.”

“Does it have meaning?”

Ceri smiled. “It means I am chosen.”

“For what?”

At this, Ceri’s shoulders sagged and she sighed. “I wish I knew. I am part of … a group, but my purpose in it is quite unclear.”

Bernardo edged toward her, not quite looking at her. “May I touch it? Will it hurt you — or me?”

Ceri kept still. “Nobody besides my queen has touched it before. I do not know. She sees visions because of it.”

“What will I see?” Bernardo murmured. His fingertips rested upon her mark, located just above her right scapula. She expected the rough hands of a labourer, but the pads of his fingers smoothed soft across her skin.

His fingertips traced the mark, the outline of a starfish. “It is so beautiful. You—” Bernardo paused. Ceri held her breath, waiting for some consequence of a human touching her Chosen Mark. “Ceri, you are beautiful. Your skin is so lovely, so pale.”

She shivered, suddenly too aware of his body heat. Nobody had touched her like this before, so intimately and tenderly.

He withdrew his hand. “You’re cold. You should hurry and dress.”

Ceri missed the warmth of his touch. “It’s not the chill.” She faced away from him, her cheeks warming even as she splashed her face with cold water. She made short work of washing, feeling a lightness as the layers of dust came off her skin. Cleaner, she rose, turning to look down at him.

Bernardo knelt at her feet. He focused on her face while rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. “What is it then?”

“You.” She stepped out of the tub and reached for him.

Ceri woke, a heavy weight across her chest. She carefully felt it, finding a warm, muscled arm. Sunlight banished more of the shadows, and she marvelled at the glinting hairs that shimmered on his golden brown skin.

Bernardo stirred against her and snuggled closer.

She let herself be held, almost falling asleep. She had never before conceived of such bone-deep satisfaction. Her place in the Chosen Court meant others were leary of finding partnership with her, for the Court always had to come first in her life. Even when she didn’t know why she’d been chosen.

Ceri shifted, rolling over so they faced each other. She stroked Bernardo’s cheek, his stubble rough against her palm. “I need to return to the ocean.” Her husky voice seemed too loud in the small space. “I need to return to my group.”

“Stay.” His hands smoothed down her spine to the small of her back, tugging her closer. “Find meaning here with me.”

“I could find meaning with you all day and all night, and I have, but my mark… It is a calling, Bernardo. I cannot deny the goddess.”

He sought out her mouth with his own as if he could deny Morgaine Herself. Soon in his kisses, she tasted salt and she couldn’t tell if it came from her eyes or his.

“I don’t want to let you go.” Bernardo’s mouth moved from her lips to her cheeks, to the curve of her neck. “Stay with me.”

Ceri surrendered to him then, allowing him to love her as she so longed to be loved, returning Bernardo’s affection and desire with all her heart.

In the quiet after, Ceri told him almost everything, only holding back that she was draig môr. She told him about their quest to find a new home, the storm that rendered Braith unconscious, how they searched for a healer, and how she came to be captured.

Head propped up by an elbow, Bernardo watched her. “If you hadn’t given yourself as a hostage what would your Court have done then?”

Ceri shrugged. “I am sure they would have found a way to convince the chieftain.”

“But you saw a place for you and you chose to claim it.” Bernardo’s hand traversed slowly from her shoulder down her arm.

“Mmm.” His caresses distracted her.

“Perhaps that is your gift. To see the opportunity and be the one to fill it.” His fingers laced with hers.

“If that’s is so …” She hesitated, not liking the way her voice wobbled. “I would have to leave you and return to the ocean.”

He hugged her close. “I will come with you. Someone else can look after the herd. I’ll—”

She silenced him with a kiss, not wanting to say the words.

He responded but pulled back. “Ceri?”

“You cannot follow where I go,” she murmured. “I am not … like other people.”

“You are extraordinary,” Bernardo agreed. “I’ve never been on the water, but I could learn to sail, be of use.”

Ceri slipped out of his arms and rose out of the cot. She reached for her tunica, discarded on the stool. Dressed, she turned to face him, discovering his desire-filled and worried expression. “It’s beyond your comprehension.”

His lip curled. “I might be a shepherder but I’m not stupid. Don’t push me away, Ceri.”

She knelt by the cot. “I’m forever grateful for you rescuing me but … I’m dreigiau môr.”

“Dreg eye?” He frowned.

“I live in the sea. Under the water.” She emphasised the last three words. “I have gills here.” She traced invisible horizontal lines on her neck.

“I don’t care.” He leaned forward, capturing her hands with his own. “I’ll come with you.”

Tears welled. “Come to the ocean with me. Then you’ll see why you cannot.”

As they drew near the coastline and the small village, Ceri sent a thought to Myfanwy. :Are you there?:

Her Queen’s relief felt palpable. :What happened? Are you well? They said you were stolen.:

:It’s a long story.: As she and Bernardo took a small trail through the hills, Ceri updated Myfanwy on what had happened to her. :I’m bringing a guest,: she finished. :He … he wants to join us.:

:He’s draig môr? No.: Myfanwy answered her own question. :I feel your deep sorrow. He’s human. Yet you like this man.” Ceri felt her pain echoed back to her, along with a strange wistfulness. :Oh, Ceri.:

:Mmm.: Ceri muttered the shielding spell, dampening her emotions and Myfanwy’s. :Are you still nearby?:

:We haven’t left.: Myfanwy filled her in on how they had helped the village set their homes to rights again as well as treating the wounded as best they could. :We couldn’t search too far inland. We all felt horribly ill.:

Ceri sobbed aloud, causing Bernardo to give her a sharp look. :You waited for me. You really did wait for me.:

:Of course we did. We could sense you were alive. The villagers were going in pursuit of their attackers…:

:Thank you.: Tears flowed down her cheeks. She touched the wetness in wonder. She’d never cried Above Sea before.

Bernardo slung an arm about her waist, bringing her in close. “All will be well,” he murmured into her hair. “I will be with you.”

Ceri shook her head and pried herself out of his embrace. This was so much harder than she expected. She should have left him at the hut. Brushing away the tears, she strode forward. She and Bernardo skirted the village and descended the steep cliff steps to the small beach. All but Llewelyn and Braith hastened toward them.

Myfanwy embraced her. :You will always be one of us,: she murmured. :The part you are to play will be revealed in time. I believe this in my bones.:

Ceri hugged her back and turned to find Medwyn’s arms engulfing her. :I feel your pain,: he whispered into her mind. :Would that I could ease it.:

With a grateful watery smile, she disengaged. “This is Bernardo,” she said aloud for the benefit of her shepherd. “He wants to join us.”

“But—” burst out a startled Gwalchmei before Medwyn hushed him.

“We’ll have to show him,” Myfanwy said, leading them down the beach and to the water’s edge. “It’s time to for us to go.”

Llewelyn joined them with Braith in his arms, wrapped in her woven blanket. :Welcome back,: he thought at Ceri.

She nodded. “Go on ahead,” she said aloud.

Bernardo drew close as the others waded out through the breaking waves. “Where’s the boat?” he whispered.

Ceri turned, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “I told you. We live under the water.” She took his hand and led him into the surf. When it got too deep for her, she wrapped her arms about his neck, letting him walk out until the sea was up his chest. “I will show you now. If you flee, I’ll understand.” She took a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for rescuing me and … and loving me.” She hauled herself up to plant a kiss on his cheek, her body sliding against his.

She sank beneath the water’s surface.

The sea fizzed and bubbled around him as she metamorphosed into her scaly, serpentine form. She coiled about his legs, twisting her large, leonine head to look up at him through the shimmering water.

His mouth hung open. Staring down at her, he took one step back, then two.

She let him go.

Poll Time and Author Notes

Our Chosen Court are off to find a large healing centre to help Braith. On the way, they will meet…

Episode 3, all being well, will be posted on November 6.

This month’s episode title comes from Arcadia’s “So Red The Rose” album: “Missing”.

By the way, do you prefer these song titles at the top or at the end of the story? What did you think of this episode? Poor Bernardo. Please share in the comments below.

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