Against Destiny, an "Obsidian & Flame" story
Every Winter Solstice, dreigiau môr children deliver cakes to their dead ancestors...
If you’re new to The Môrdreigiau Chronicles, welcome! I hope you enjoy this story about the dreigiau môr, the sea dragons. You might find the Glossary helpful for some of these words. Colons indicate the sea dragon’s thought communications.
It was his first metamorphosis from human into draig môr. Behind him, a line of children snaked down the broad street, each clutching a bag woven with seaweed, a bag containing the Lady Morgaine’s favourite sweet treat: little cakes dusted with silver. He would be first to step through the gate.
His father, Rhydderch, Consort to the Esteemed, ruler of Caer Morgana, waved him forward. :Come on, don’t be afraid.:
Panawr grimaced. He wasn’t afraid of anything, least of all something that was as natural as breathing through gills.
He stepped through the gate, feeling the water pressure change as it closed behind him, the lock cycling as he strode forward and then … he swam forward and out through the second gate and into the open ocean.
He looped in a circle, observing his grey-scaled serpentine body. His silver-flecked scales made his whole body shimmer as he moved, reflecting the light from torches lighting the way to the catacombs. His clawed hand brushed the braided silver and gold torc at his neck. He hadn’t lost it in the transformation.
He swam on, completely at ease in his new shape. The catacombs lay a short distance from the caer. His ancestors’ remains rested there, the first refugees from an ancient conflict 5,000 years ago, and the bones of all those who came after.
Excited chatter behind Panawr let him know more children had passed through the lock-gate, and he hurried forward. He wanted to be the first to meet the Goddess tonight.
Bioluminescent torches stood at wide intervals along the path, their light rising and falling behind him in the increasing gloom of night. The path slowly arced upward, past a rocky outcrop. His scales glowed, a minor distraction.
Below, on the undulating seabed, a long, wide earthen mound rose out of the ground. Within, stood an altar dedicated to the Lady Morgaine. Within, he needed to find his own ancestral plot, lay the silvered cakes upon the grave of his first ancestor, Beithir, and be back at the caer’s gate before midnight.
The adults started celebrating at midnight, with lots of dancing and eating. He didn’t care so much about the dancing part, but he couldn’t even have one of the silver cakes after tonight’s adventure.
Next year, he would be old enough to make the journey alone to the old draig môr Maeve. Then, as a new adult, he could eat Goddess cakes to his heart’s content.
The adults would also pray to the Lady Morgaine, petitions that she continue to bless them and perhaps one day return to walk among them as she did with their ancestors, and as she did on this one night of the year, the winter solstice, when a lucky child or two would catch a glimpse of her among the barrows.
No child came away from an encounter with the Goddess without an enhanced gift or some other blessing.
Panawr tightened his grip on the small woven seagrass bag containing the cakes. First, he would find his ancestors. Then, he’d look for the Lady.
He entered the barrow, slipping through the narrow opening. No adult draig môr could pass this way except for the smallest, whose task it was to inter the dead. The few grave-digging dreigiau môr could not deliver all the cakes in a single night, and so children were sent out at the winter solstice.
Panawr swam through the tunnel. It opened out partway up the barrow’s side. He hadn’t even noticed the tunnel floor rise beneath his swimming body. Below lay the entire catacombs under the sheltering arch of the giant barrow. The low ceiling glowed an unearthly gold.
The pulsating light gave glowing shape to the burial mounds below, some taller than others. In the centre, stood the largest ancestral barrow. Its sides had caved in, revealing a white stone altar. Lady Morgaine’s altar. If he made it there after visiting his family’s tomb, She might grace him with Her presence and a special gift.
Pathways encircled the tombs. Not one straight line or clear intersection. He’d been warned against eschewing the paths altogether, and swimming close to the ceiling. Its glow might be beautiful but the ceiling hid vines that reached out to snare the unwary.
He swam down the steep grade to ground level.
Walls on either side of the path penned him in. He swam forward, utterly confident.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw more young dreigiau môr descend into the barrow.
His early confidence soon dissipated. Even with his father’s instructions ringing in his mind, Panawr somehow missed a crucial turn. He became utterly and completely lost.
Gritting his teeth against incipient tears, he tried a new path. Even though his father was Consort, he belonged to one of the smaller, less prominent families. Occasionally, Panawr passed another young draig môr, or caught sight of a slender serpentine body flitting between the rounded tombs.
He came across a draig môr curled up in front of a barrow. They didn’t carry a bag, so they must have completed their holy task already. He felt a shot of jealousy spark through him. He started to pass but noticed their slender shoulders shaking.
Panawr paused, frowning. :Are you crying?:
The draig môr squeezed into a tighter curl, their green scales darkening. :Go away. I am not crying.: The melodious tone of their thought revealed them as female.
He hovered near. :Yes, you are. Are you lost?:
Her head shot up out of her spiralled form. Her eyes were silver with huge tears. :Someone stole my cakes.:
:What?: Panawr sank to the ground next to her. :Why would somebody do that? Who was it?:
She tracked his landing, her neck elongating out of its tight bend. :I don’t know. I don’t recognise anybody in this form. Everyone looks so strange.: Her body, still curled up, trembled in her distress.
:What did he look like? Maybe I could get them back for you?:
She shook her head. :He’s grey, like you, but no pretty shiny bits.: The draig môr ducked her head back into her curled body. :He’s long gone.:
Panawr looked around, ascending a little above the path’s high walls. He couldn’t see any any dreigiau môr let alone one matching that description.
He returned to her side, lifting his bag over his head, the strap catching on his thick mane of dark hair. :Take mine,: he said. :I’ll keep one for my ancestors. They’ll understand.: He pulled one of the silvery cakes out of his bag.
She uncurled completely at that, shaking her head in dismay. :You can’t do that. Your family needs them.:
Holding the bag by its strap, Panawr shook it at her. :Your family needs them too. This way both our ancestors are satisfied.:
:Are you sure?:
He nodded, warming at her hopeful expression. :I’ll come with you to your family tomb. In case whoever it was tries it again.:
She accepted the bag from him, slinging it over her shoulder. :I’m almost there. You shouldn’t waste your time. You have your own ancestors to find.:
:Mine isn’t too far away either,: Panawr lied. :It will take no time. Lead the way.:
Together, they rounded a bend. The path rose between smaller barrows. She slipped between them, stopping in front of a large one.
In front of the barrow was a long flat stone. She unwrapped the cakes, placing them neatly in a circle on the stone.
She picked one up, returning it to the bag. She held the bag out to Panawr. :You should have one more for the Lady.:
With a sigh, he accepted the bag, dropping his cake inside. He slung the bag across his shoulder.
She returned her attention to her ancestors’ barrow. She bowed. :Beloved ancestor Nathair and all of your line buried here. It is I, your youngest descendent, Arddun. Please enjoy these cakes. May you and the Lady continue to bless my family and our home.:
Panawr slipped away while she prayed. He honestly had no idea in which direction to head next. Maybe if he prayed to the Lady she would help…
Arddun pressed herself flat against the ground, prostrating before her ancestral burrow, repeating her prayer.
A slight disturbance in the water made her pause. She looked up. One of the cakes lay on the ground, having rolled off the altar.
She inched forward on her belly. Extending her arm, she replaced it upon the flat stone.
The cake shot off the flat stone. Bouncing, it rolled down the slight incline. She turned to go after it but a large hand gripped her shoulder.
Arddun spun, fangs bared, ready to fight a futile battle. Her face went slack. She saw her reflection in the large black eyes of a white-scaled adult draig môr. :Lady!:
Hovering before her, the white draig môr’s long white hair flowed away from her face and pointed ears. At least three times Arddun’s size, she couldn’t have fit through the narrow door into the Great Barrow. This had to be the Goddess, the Lady Morgaine.
Lady Morgaine released Arddun. Silver and gold flecked her pearlescent white scales. A diadem with glittering diamonds nestled in her hair. She loomed over Arddun, larger than either of the young draig môr’s parents. :Who are you to profane this altar?:
Arddun sank to the ground, frowning in confusion. :What do you mean? These are my ancestors! I delivered the cakes, said the prayers—:
The Goddess Morgaine held up one of the cakes between two long glittering claws. :These? These are not the ones your grandmother made.:
Arddun swallowed. :Mine were stolen. Someone was kind enough to give me some of theirs. It’s the same cake, Lady. We all brought them with us.:
:The recipes are unique to each family. The flavours and textures differ. There can be no other cake that will satisfy Nathair and her kin but that of your grandmother’s.:
Large tears blinded Arddun. :Oh Lady, what should I do? I do not wish to displease you or my ancestors!:
The Goddess made a complicated motion with her clawed hand. In her palm appeared four cakes. :I believe these are yours.: She smiled toothily.
Arddun scraped at her broad dragon face, wiping away the tears.
Lady Morgaine held them out. :Go on, child. Take them.:
She did so, placing them upon the flat stone in a circle. She repeated her prayers in a prostrate position.
When she had finished, she glanced up to see the Lady in her human form standing in front of her ancestors’ tomb, her white robes so white not even the golden glow from the barrow’s ceiling tinted them. The Lady’s glowing face remained stern. Arddun sank to the ground in awe.
:Arddun, I bless you and I curse you.:
The young draig môr went totally still, her insides twisting in sudden fear.
:Because of your carelessness, you will never enjoy the taste of these cakes. They will taste like ash upon your tongue.:
Arddun pouted. :My cakes were stolen! The one who took them was bigger than me. That’s not fair!:
The Goddess nodded. :Child, justice you seek and justice you shall have. Your cakes were not to his ancestor’s taste. He doesn’t know it, but a great calamity faces him, and his family, for several generations.:
:Several generations?: Arddun protested. :Over cake? That seems like a lot.:
The Goddess raised a white eyebrow. :Child, tonight’s rite keeps your caer in one piece. This simple pilgrimage renews the gifts of every draig môr now and in the future. That boy ate the cakes meant for his ancestors and it cannot be undone.:
:I don’t hear any blessing in this.:
The Goddess smiled. :You will bear a great gift to your people, one that has never been seen before, or after. A chance for the caer to be saved is possible because of you.: She smiled. :It cannot be twisted to any other use. You will forget my words, forget that I have blessed and cursed you until the time for your gift to be unveiled.:
An hour later, far too close to midnight, Panawr couldn’t believe his luck. Before him stood the barrow of Beithir. He recognised it from the image his father had showed him, by the pattern of rocks around its base.
He placed the two silvery cakes onto the flat stone in front of the small mound and bowed his head in prayer. He added a request for help finding his way out of the great barrow.
:Just two?:
The thought startled him. He twisted around, his tail flaring out wildly, to see who spoke.
The Goddess stood in her human form behind him. She passed him and sat in front of the barrow, arranging her white robes to drape pleasingly about her. :Your ancestor Beithir loved to eat. This is not enough.:
:A girl had her cakes stolen,: Panawr gave his mane a little shake. :She couldn’t go to her ancestors empty-handed.:
The Goddess tilted her head. :You sound angry.:
:I am. Who would steal from another here? This is a sacred space and we all brought cakes.: Panawr folded his arms, his lower lip pouting in fury. :It makes no sense to steal more.:
:Child, justice you seek and justice you shall have.:
Panawr’s eyes narrowed. :What do you mean?:
:Know that the boy’s redemption lies through you. Should you fail, the caer will also begin to falter until one comes to save us all.:
Panawr sucked in his breath. Caer Morgana? Falter? What had he done? His gills flared in panic. :I don’t even know who he is.:
The Goddess waved a dismissive hand. :You don’t need to. You will forget this until you find someone who dislikes these cakes as much as you do.:
He blinked. :But my father says they are delicious.:
Lady Morgaine’s smile thinned. :Not for you. That is your punishment for not fully providing for your ancestors and for me.: She picked up one of the cakes and bit into it, licking the crumbs from her lips. :Mmm.:
Panawr thought it a little unfair that she should enjoy it so much in front of him, when he could never enjoy them.
She held out the cake toward the barrow. Bite by bite, the little cake disappeared, as did the one remaining on the flat stone at the Goddess’ feet.
:Go, Panawr,: The Goddess said. :You have many trials ahead of you. May you always stay true to your heart of justice.: She pointed behind him. :I have lit your way. Go swiftly, child.:
This is in response to
‘s Prompt Quest. You can check out the other stories here:
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If you’re looking for more Obsidian and Flame, it’s coming in early 2025!
Probably. You’ll get to meet Panawr and Arddun as adults in this new serial. It was going to be not even a novelette but we are 13 chapters and counting.
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I'm so glad you redirected us here for a little bit of backstory. I'm up to Chapter 5 of 'Obsidian & Flame' and I now feel fully equipped to continue the adventure!