Alone

Episode 3 of "Hiraeth"

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Although today’s episode is shorter than last month’s, with the added illustrations, it may not all download if you’re reading this via email. In that case, click on the dandy “View in Browser” in this email’s upper right corner.

In the search for someone to wake the prophet Braith from her coma, the Chosen Court came across a small village, with a healer called the Asclepius. Ceri remained in the village to act as surety but is captured by local brigands. Hauled inland, too far from the sea, Ceri collapsed and her kidnappers abandon her. She’s nursed back to health by a shepherder, but had to leave him and resume her role within the Chosen Court, even though she’s not quite sure what that is.

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

Theme song for this month’s episode:

“Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth” - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Unable to sleep, I leave behind the rest of the Chosen Court. As the Court’s Sword, I, Llewelyn ap Dyllannw, should remain by the Monarch’s side but I do not know exactly what urges my flight. I leave behind my beloved Braith in her comatose dreams. She lies suspended beneath the others. She will not wake, she wastes away to nothing, and my heart splinters every time I dare to glimpse her face.

I want her back. We all do. Myfanwy’s emotions are as disturbed as my own. Somehow, hope continues to surge in her, although it fails, fails in my heart. I keep whispering the shielding spell. All know of my agony but I see no reason for them to feel the full force of my misery.

Putting physical distance grants no space between me and the sleeping hearts of my fellow Court members. I feel Medwyn’s worry and guilt like my own. Ceri is quiet with her freshly broken heart but her recent affair with a human was little more than a dream-like tryst. Her heart starts to harden with resolve, but yet it is still raw, her grief a company for mine.

I strike out through the dark sea, the chill of autumn making little difference to the water’s temperature.

I dive, away from the scattered strands of moonlight upon the water, going deeper, where light dare not go. My carmine bioluminescent scales cast a murky glow. I cannot see the way forward but my whiskers will tell me when I near the bottom.

Braith, Braith, my beloved Braith. You have lain in my arms and are yet so far from me. What will I do if I can no longer see that mischievous spark in your eyes, or hear your soft laugh in my mind? You were—are—the wildest of us all, and yet the storm has tamed you. You lack all signs of life but the shallow flutter of your gills and the tickle of presence in my heart.

:Braith!: I bellow your name into your mind, rendered a blank wall by the nightmare we now live in. Of course, you do not answer.

I plunge deep, deeper into the waters.

My whiskers suddenly twitch, curling in and I halt my wild descent, coiling to avoid crashing into rock. The bottom must be near.

Yet my senses tell me the sea bottom still rises. I remain still, alert to the water’s every vibration, a thrumming I have not experienced before.

I glance upward, toward the Chosen Court, now lost to sight by night and distance. Do they feel this too?

The trembling waves bear silt, thick as fog, blooming opaquely in my bioluminescence. Startled fish scud in and out of view, catching sight of me before dashing onward with renewed vigour. Do they run from me or …?

I ascend, surging free of the silt clouds. The ground still rises. How can this be? There is no sharp roil of earthquake, nothing but the ocean’s tremble and frightened fish.

It occurs to me that perhaps I ought to be frightened too.

But I am the Queen’s Sword. Fear and courage go hand-in-hand. I hold steady, every sense searching for a glimpse of what approaches.

A flicker. Far off to the right. I dart that way, but I see only a flare of sand and silt which starts to drift. Something passed that way.

To my left, another flash of movement, gone before I can figure out its shape, identify the—

I spin, surrounded by towering bars on all sides coming to a point above. The rounded bars are pock-marked on one side with giant suckers. Looking down, the silt darkens, thinning out from the thing that rises…

I flee through the wide gap between the bars, zooming upward, my ribs expanding widely at the sudden ascent. I could outrun it.

:Wake!: I scream at my friends. :Myf! Everyone! Wake up! Fly! Fly!:

My tail corkscrews, driving me on and up. I hear my friends’ startled cries and silence them with another roar :Fly! Fly! We are no match for this monster.:

I jerk backward, breath expelling in a pained whoosh. Something — that thing —  clamps around my tail. Unbelieving, I stare down the length of my serpentine body to the dark tentacle curled about my immobilised tail.

With my arms and legs, I push at the water, frantically pawing to get free. The tentacle curves higher up my serpentine body, my thrashing having no effect upon it.

I am thrust down, faster than I can see. I squeeze my eyes shut, praying for a quick end, for I am naught but a sardine in the grip of this enormous beast.

Did you know that if you refer enough people enough times, you could have a character named after you? Click on the button below. Now back to our story…

Down, down, the increasing hydrostatic pressure squashes my flesh. I come to a sudden standstill, my head whipping around from the sudden stop until I am dizzy.

I’m dangling upside down, beneath this behemoth.

Its tentacle loosens and I wriggle free, scooting away.

Another curls about my midsection, claiming me with ease. It tightens until my bones crack. I hear them break in this suddenly silent sea.

I roar my agony upward, driving my claws deep into the flesh that holds me.

There is no sea: only the beast, blotting out the smallest hint of moonlight. It possesses a sickly grey bioluminescence of its own, tinged with an oily greenish yellow. Two giant eyes peer down at me, larger than two dreigiau môr from end to end, each glowing yellow around a pitch-black iris, which widens and contracts as it studies me.

Its giant beak opens wide, its serrated edges all too plain. The absence of light within its maw is darker than I have ever seen.

:Lleu! Llewelyn!?: Myfanwy’s call is faint. :Where are you?:

:I’m dying, Myf. Save yourselves. Save Braith. Tell her …: I cough. A bloom of dark blood floats before my eyes. :When she wakes, tell her I love her.:

:No!: Myfanwy’s crying sob spears me back into wakefulness. :Our magic—:

:The Chosen Court is no match.: I cough again, bringing forth more blood. :Flee! Save her, Myf. It’s my last wish.:

My eyes close. My claws still push at the tentacle but I am weakening, unable to draw more than the shallowest breath, unable to stop the tentacle from squeezing me into two.

:You cannot give up!: Myfanwy shrieked at me. :Hold on! We’re coming.:

:No! Braith—:

Myfanwy’s thought cuts me off, her irritation plain. :Gwalchmei has her.:

I am the Monarch’s Sword. I’m not the one who is supposed to be rescued. I try one last protest. :Myf…:

Have you read the story that started it all? A Grail for Eidothea, the first collected transcription of a diary from 1814 found in a battered trunk in an attic. Eidothea Pendyr is the author of the diary and in it she writes of becoming involved in the search for the Greal, needed to prevent the prophecy of ecological collapse.

Start Here: A Grail for Eidothea

As my brain consumes the last of the oxygen, I recall a dream Braith told me about once.

I remember it well. We were curled about each other in a coral bed, having spent the solstice night in lovemaking in the open ocean, completing the passionate and ornate dragon dance.

Braith woke me, her claws tracing the scales along my flank and shoulder.

I shivered and pressed a kiss into the black strands of her draig môr hair. :I thought you would sleep longer,: I murmured. With our hearts so open to each other, thanks to the Chosen Court bond, at the end we had swooned, overwhelmed by the enormity of our love and desire.

:I had a dream. I saw you in Caer Morgana in your pale red robes, your beautiful grey eyes and your black hair streaming. You stood in front of me, protecting me. I was on the ground, unable to rise and you—:

Her fear and tension roiled between us.

I whipped my head about, searching for the threat. :What is it? What is wrong?:

Wonder subsumed her initial fear. :Your Chosen Mark. In the dream, it became a sword of flame.:

Startled, I pull away and haul her upward so our noses touch. :What? How?:

She shrugged, slipping out of my loose grasp. :I know not how. That was not revealed to me.: Her eyes glint with that mischievous spark I love so well.  :Perhaps if you can catch me…:

I dash after her, my soul bubbling with joy, the shadow of her dream forgotten in our mutual delight.

Braith. Had her dream been true after all? But how would flesh become flame?

My hand covers the Chosen Mark on my right shoulder, claws digging into my own flesh. The pain is no match for what the monster inflicts. I have little strength and no time left. Could I just will her dreamed-of sword into being?

I focus on the mark beneath my hand, a long flourish with a short cross bar. I envision it leaving my skin, forming into a sword like the ones our ancestors once held.

Nothing changes, the sea just gets colder.

My failing sight sees the creature’s gaping beak drawing nearer. Or am I drawing nearer to it?

My blood coats my palm, my mouth fills with it. :Lady!: I call into the void to my Goddess. :Is there no hope?:

No answer.

This is it. This is my end. Perhaps I will meet Braith there in the afterlife.

My left palm burns with a sudden heat. Startled, I look to my right shoulder and see a red glow beneath my hand. Molten heat pushes into my palm, moulds itself about my fingers.

I hold a thick stem, its glow bursting forth from between my fingers. I release my shoulder, holding the stub before me. A power cascades from my chest out along my left arm and into the hilt.

A small flame grows at the hilt’s base, flowering and twirling upward until it is one long blade of fire.

The creature roars, a force of water slamming against me, flattening me against the tentacle holding me captive. I glance at the sword. The fire does not go out.

I slash at the tentacle. The fiery blade slices through without the slightest resistance. Freed, fresh agony slices through me, as my circulation attempts to resume. Blood billows about my midsection.

Gritting my fangs, I surge upward, pointing my flaming sword right at the behemoth’s eye.

Its tentacles flail, one in agony, the rest attempting to recapture me. One catches me in a swipe. I tumble end over end, but I am out of the cage formed by its waving limbs.

I right myself. Somehow my failing body still answers to my wishes. I swim toward the creature, clumsily dodging the wildly swinging appendages, grunting with each hit I take.

:Lleu!:

I glance up. Myfanwy, Medwyn and Ceri hove into view, arms extended before them. Blue fire spark in their palms.

Black spots obscure my view. My arm sags. :Give me strength!: I call.

Their blue fire turns green and shoots toward me, engulfing me. I feel my body knit, although the pain still strives to undo me.

My orange-red flame-sword flares into a brilliant white. With renewed vigour, I speed forward, dodging the tentacles with ease.

I plunge my blazing blade right into the monster’s eye.

Its shrill screaming deafens me but I am not done. It spirals, the tentacles reaching for me. I stab the creature again and again as it turns, perforating its grey leathery sides.

At last, its tentacles slump into stillness. Dark inky blood streams from its many wounds, obscuring my view.

I sink, holding the flame-sword before me. My arms shake with the effort. What healing the Court had sent me I have spent in killing the creature. The sword’s white brilliance dims to orange and red flames and it flickers out. The sword vanishes. I twist to see my shoulder and the Chosen Mark flickers before returning to its usual glowing blue state.

Myfanwy reaches me first and engulfs me in a rough hug. :By the Lady, what was that?:

We stare upward as the monster, slowly deflating, rises to the surface. The giant rounded crown of its body is followed by the tangle of tentacles.

:I know not,: I reply. I cough and a faint spume of blood colours the water between us.

Myfanwy’s eyes widen. :Medwyn! He’ll need all our healing powers.: Through her palms upon my scales, I feel her healing sink into me. Medwyn’s much stronger powers soon join hers.

We make a slow ascent, Ceri leading the way, while Myfanwy and Medwyn make my body whole once more.

We rise to where Gwalchmei waits, with Braith in his arms. :What was that?: he asks, looking a little pale. :A giant octopus or squid?:

I shrug, taking Braith from him. Her head lolls against my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head, breathing in her sweet scent. :Thank you,: I whisper to her. :You saved me.:

Braith, Braith, my beloved Braith. I will not ever leave you.

“There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.”  - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

It’s Poll Time!

Our next stop is the big healing centre (that actually did exist). It turns out that in order to receive treatment, one had to first make a payment (some things never change). The dreigiau môr do not possess money. How do they get it?

If you have a better idea for our heroes to be making money, please let me know in the comments (or reply to this email) and if you pick the last option, let me know which two you prefer!

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