9: Dragon in a Hot Spring House

Chapter 9 of "A Grail for Eidothea"

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:It’s possible she is the next prophet,: Llyr said. :We haven’t had one since … well, since you.:

Maeve regarded me. I felt the weight of her gaze could crush me if I let it. I was not going to allow that and stared evenly back at her.

:The prophet? Impossible.: Maeve loomed closer. :Do you know what we do with false prophets?: She bared her fangs.

Llyr explained the birthmark and my vision to her. :It was of the future, a terrible future for us if it comes true.:

:Visions can be fickle things.: Her head turned toward me. :Describe Llyr’s mark. I cannot see it.: She coiled, tensing. Would she strike if I gave the wrong answer?

Who would willingly take this path? I sent an image of Llyr’s birthmark to her. It looked like a thick line. At each end, it thickened. A flattened triangle lay under the centre of the line.

:I see it,: Maeve confirmed. :It is the shape of the Greal. If you are the prophet, Llyr is…?:

:The next king.:

Llyr added, :According to my mother. She thought you might know what needs to happen next?:

:You don’t remember the tales? Each monarch is anointed. To lead the Chosen Court, the ruler must be anointed from the Greal in Caer Morgana with their Court around them. They are given new powers to help protect our people. Alas, the Greal has been long lost. It has not been seen since my generation.:

Llyr whispered, only for my ears, :That’s over a thousand years.: Including Maeve, he asked, :How may we find it?:

Maeve shook her head. I bobbed in the new currents she created. :The only person that might know anything more than the shreds and whispers of knowledge I possess is now dead.:

I sucked in my breath and coughed out ocean water. Berlewen Grealseeker. :My mother.:

Maeve’s thick ragged eyebrow arched. :You are a dramatic child.: Her gaze softened. :Yes, she was the most recent draig môr to search for the Greal. If she found anything, it is lost now.:

I shook my dragon head so violently that I almost rotated along with the current I created. I steadied myself. :My parents were antiquarians. Mother preferred ancient British civilisations and Father’s interests lie in medieval literature, in addition to history. If there is any clue to be found, my father will have it.: I was not entirely confident of this. Her research had clearly been separate from his, given that she looked through his papers instead of asking, but perhaps in knowing what it was she had searched for, Father would be able to help.

:Let me tell you what I know about the Greal. During the last Chosen Court, our cousins on land were in great need. A new invader threatened to wipe them out.: Maeve paused and asked, :Do you know how dreigiau môr came to be?:

I gave her a succinct version. :It happened long before recorded time, before the time of cattle, horses and fields. A new people came across the ocean and threatened our whole way of life. We had the choice of abandoning living in harmony with nature or joining with them in exerting control over our landscape. A priestess among our ancestors, Morgaine, revealed herself as a goddess. Those who chose to flee death dove into the sea. Morgaine transformed them into dreigiau môr and built them a city—Caer Morgana—so that they may still enjoy their human bodies.:

Maeve continued the tale. :Not all of us made this choice. Even though our people died or vanished from the land, those who came after remembered us through old stories and songs. Some even worshipped us as demigods. Even today, some on land remember us dreigiau môr as their siblings and bring us offerings via Gentle Morgaine.

:Many generations later, a new priestess petitioned the ocean for relief. But her people didn’t want to leave the land and join us. They wanted the powers of a Chosen Court monarch, and foolishly, despite my warning, our people loaned the Greal to our cousin Arthur Pendragon. He never returned it. We have been looking for it ever since.:

:Was this why my parents met?:

:Yes and she fell in love with him, although she shouldn’t have. She confided much with me on her visits to Caer Morgana. The last time was to fret over your illness. Your ancestor was monarch at the time of Arthur Pendragon—and it was he who cast the final vote to aid Pendragon. I see you have your mother’s ring. Her family will be of great help.

:One more thing, your mother is not the only dreigiau môr who went ashore to find the Greal. The Tregallas family have also dedicated themselves to the search. However, I am quite certain their motives are not for the betterment of all dreigiau môr. They seek power and would steal our precious future.:

I turned to Llyr, burying thoughts of Jasper Tregallas and the ramifications this had for our friendship. I now knew why Lord Tregallas coveted my ring. :We should leave. I have a feeling we have no time to waste.:

Maeve sighed. The warm water from her mouth made me realise how chilled I had become. :You must ascend slowly.: Llyr nodded in acknowledgement. :Even the most experienced of dragons do not visit the surface directly after meeting me. Further, Llyr will stay here with me. As the last-until-now prophet, I have much to share with him, and my time is now limited.:

:But not me?: It did sound that childish and pathetic. :I already feel so behind in—: I waved my arm. :All this.:

:Child, you are shivering. You cannot remain here much longer and survive, given the strange mixture that you are. And you must survive. The Greal must be found else it won’t matter that a monarch and a prophet have visited me. Llyr will relay everything on your return. May your quest be fulfilled, Eidothea Pendyr, daughter of Berlewen Grealseeker. Remember, your search must be done with the utmost secrecy. Trust noone.:

:I cannot stay,: Llyr objected. :I will return with Eidothea to Caer Morgana and make sure she returns to land in one piece. Then I shall receive instruction from you, Grandmother.:

Maeve agreed and waved a dismissal, her arms so small against her bulky body. We bowed our heads and took our leave.

Now that Maeve had mentioned the cold, the chill and the sheer weight of water bore down upon my frame. Llyr made sure we paused often during our ascent, to allow our bodies to recalibrate to the gradual lightening of the ocean’s pressure. He seemed lost in his own thoughts and I let him be, mulling over all I had learned, and fretting about my close connection to the Tregallases.

By the time we arrived in Caer Morgana, I was exhausted and still cold. Llyr took one look at me and tucked my arm into his. :Let me take you to the hot spring. You’re not the first who needs restorative care after visiting Maeve. I need it myself.:

He let me to another part of the city. The waters warmed as we approached the spring. The plaza outside the spring house was a popular area, with dreigiau môr “sunning” themselves in the spring’s heat. Llyr skilfully guided us through without answering any questions sent our way. Not all of them were friendly but his easy smile and manner disarmed any potential offence by his his refusal to answer.

Once inside the spring house, the heat intensified. Set into solid rock, the rough-hewn corridors pulsed with warm water.

The chill started to ease. The hallway opened out into a large chamber and the heat trebled. Rounded solid stone benches stood against the walls and curled into half circles at the centre of the chamber. Only a few others basked in the incredible heat.

Llyr drew me to the nearest wall. :We’ll start here before we move in closer.: He sat on the stone bench and patted the space next to him, inviting me to sit.

I sat, already feeling flushed from the high temperature, which prickled and bit on my icy cold skin.

Llyr leaned back, bracing his hands against the stone bench. He loosened his robe and it slipped off one shoulder.

I glanced from the greal birthmark prominent on his upper arm, down to his tapered waist, still belted. I looked away, clutching my robe close about my neck. I wondered if my flushed cheeks revealed my embarrassment and attraction, or if the hot water gave sufficient cover.

:You are still cold?: I sensed then saw Llyr shift position.

I shook my head, shoulders rising, unable to meet his gaze.

:Eidothea?:

I could not tell him how uncomfortable his partial nakedness made me. :These robes,: I said instead. :They are a part of us, so they do not come off?: I closed my eyes, praying Llyr did not see that as an invitation.

Llyr chuckled, his warm amusement flooding my mind. :Not completely. You could remove it here if you wished, so long as you sat or lay upon it.:

:Here?: I thought, a little too loudly. The other spring house patrons looked over at us.

Llyr sat up, stiffly nodding to them and pulling his robe up, covering his shoulder. :Half of Caer Morgana will think I’ve scandalised you in some way. I only wanted you to feel comfortable in here. Although our robes are a part of us, undressing in here allows us to fully enjoy the heat. See— over there?:

I followed his direction and saw two sitting with the robes puddled around their waists and thighs. Both were men. I wished for a feminine example to follow. :I am not used to being so …:

:—comfortable in your own skin?: Llyr’s tone was a little sharp.

I hastened to explain. :I know it is different here but I am rather used to being covered from neck to toes. This is very new to me.:

:If you think about it, the robe is a part of you. You are already naked.: Llyr’s thought lost its sharp edge. He grinned at me.

If you haven’t read the short story about how the Greal was lost, featuring Maeve, here’s a link!

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