Day 14 of Midwinter, Sunset
At Sea, Well of Wisdom
Annwn
The old man of the sea grasped my forearm in one of those old-fashioned handshakes I had seen in various period movies. I grasped his arm back, trying to make the foreign motion look natural.
I had told him about Fern’s Shell of Promise. He said he was no stranger to the selkie items and knew exactly how they worked, which made one of us. Placing the shell in seawater would do nothing but communicate, on a subconsciously magical level, my exact location to Fern.
I reminded him that when the ti was right, I would need the sea to hasten our reunion. Lir had agreed to my terms, but I could tell that he still thought he'd gotten the better end of our deal.
“How will I know where to find your brother… what was his na again?” I asked.
Lir turned as a figure stepped from the city into Tir fo Thuinn. The man had short, curly hair that looked wet for so reason. He was clean-shaven with youthful features that reminded of Ruadan. He wore a long rectangular cloth gathered at his right shoulder, leaving the left side of his chest and arm completely bare. In his arm, he held the weirdest-looking spear I had ever seen. It had four sharp blades at right angles to each other, with a point in the middle. It looked like a mace and a spear had a really weird-looking baby.
Lir gestured proudly to the newcor. “Bren, this is my son, Manannán, Child of the Sea, Patron of Manau, Master of the Waves, Guardian of the Mist, God of Travelers.”
I waved awkwardly. “I’m Bren. Just Bren… but I’ve been known to answer to other, less flattering things.”
The boy-faced man smiled at , but his eyes remained cool and appraising. “Búachaill is not an epithet that should fall unused.” Clearly, he had heard of . I hoped that was a good thing. Manannán extended his hand, grasping my forearm as his father had. “By the Sages, another Protector has not been seen since the Síorláidir Teutates vanished.”
“Technically, I’m not a protector,” I admitted, thinking about my Chaos domain.
“Yet, others seem to feel differently,” Lir countered, his tone dry. “Assuming you didn’t give yourself this title?” I shook my head.
"Father, a word in private." Manannán gestured to his father, and the two n took a few steps away from . They spoke quietly for several minutes, Manannán looking troubled and gesturing to . I focused my eyes on the city through the portal, casually stepping closer hoping to hear what looked like a soft argunt.
From the scattered words that I was able to pick up, Manannán had convinced his father to let him take to Murias before we headed east into the hills and mountains below Tech Duinn. Apparently, this was the last place Goibhniu, the Smith god, had been seen.
As Lir and his son continued their conversation, my thoughts shifted to Cai. I realized that by undertaking this additional quest I would miss the funeral of King Neit and the coronation of soon-to-be Queen Tethra. I hoped, at least, that Cai would see my path across Annwn by watching from his... magic bowl thing. What was it called again? The na had reminded of lingerie… a brazier, I think. This particular device, a Blaze Diviner, allowed Cai to remotely see what was happening in a particular place or around a certain person. Given that I didn’t know how to shield myself from the effects of the magic bowl, I was pretty confident Cai could and would follow and approve of my current path.
Manannán embraced his father, their conversation apparently having drawn to a close. He stepped closer to , placing a hand on my shoulder, and squeezing just shy of too hard. He gestured to the portal in front of us, pointing at the Deep Water port of Murias. “It is ti, Protector.”
I stopped before stepping through, rembering sothing. I turned back to Lir, raising my pilfered flask for him to see. He gave a quizzical look before nodding, as if to simultaneously approve my taking of the flask and bid farewell. I nodded back before stepping through the portal.
Manannán stepped through behind . Looking back from where we had co, I realized that to any passers-by it would appear that we had erged out of solid stone. I touched the side of the building. Where only monts before there had been a translucent sheen, now there was only a wall. My fingers felt around for the edge of a door or portal. Nothing.
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“You won’t find it by looking.” Manannán placed his palm flat on the wall. His expression was a combination of admiration and fondness. "Every entrance and egress from Tir fo Thuinn requires a different key, so to speak.”
“At least it's not complicated,” I joked, trying to break through the other man's serious deanor. “Will you teach how to go back?”
Manannán shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet, but ultimately that’s up to you.” Well, that wasn't concerning at all. I decided to abandon my attempt to make friends.
Instead, I pondered the building in front of . It was nothing special or out of the ordinary. Huge blocks of the sa fine-grained, light brown stone were stacked flawlessly upon one another to make this and what looked like all the other buildings of this neighborhood.
“It is listone, in case you were wondering,” Manannán said. “Look closely; you might even see patterns you recognize.” I peered at the stone and realized that I did see familiar patterns. Most notably, there were tiny fragnts of shells peppered throughout this particular block. “The listone is particularly resistant to the lapping of the waves and spray of the salt on the wind.”
Unfortunately, I saw nothing on the wall that gave any clue as to how to get back into the portal room. Shrugging, I decided to get down to business. “So...What exactly are we doing here? And what should I call you? Should I use your full na? Do I need to include all of the titles when I address you? Honestly, even by itself, Manannán is a mouthful.” I knew I was rambling, but the questions just kept tumbling out.
“Slow down, Protector.”
“Stop calling that,” I snapped. “It's been a while since I protected anyone. Maybe just call Bren for now.”
Manannán's tone was light when he responded. “You feel as if the designation sets expectations too high for your future self?” He gazed over the edge of the stone platform, into the dark water below. Moving to his side, I peered down as well. My Dark Vision didn’t seem to help see into the opaque surface of the ocean. It seed like a strange nuance of the boon.
Manannán held his hand above the water, which began to bubble and churn. I instinctively took a step back. I had already seen so of the sea creatures lurking beneath the surface on my travels from Inis Fer Falga. Who knew what the son of the sea god could unleash on Murias? I imagined enormous monsters with rows of teeth and countless tentacles and shuddered. To my relief, though, I watched as a small sailboat erged. Water spewed from the small ship's recesses as it ca to rest atop the surface.
“My currach,” Manannán said proudly as if the vessel was a priceless artifact.
The thing was hideous. While I guessed from his tone that the ship had to be seaworthy, it looked like it belonged in one of those museums that exhibited random objects found in peat bogs or glaciers after thousands of years of neglect and decay. The ship had a black, wooden fra and what appeared to be canvas sides (also black). A single sail rose only six feet off the front bow. The thin mast sat at an angle, pointing toward the back of the boat.
“By the look on your face, I’m thinking ‘currach’ doesn’t an what I think it ans,” I said, trying not to laugh. There was no way this ship could handle the weight of one of us, let alone both. It looked like it was one hard breath away from dissolving into a pile of rags and sticks.
I was imdiately proven wrong, as Manannán stepped down into the vessel and beckoned to do the sa. It didn't sink. Yet. He looked at , his irritation visible. “What do you think it ans?”
“You really don’t want to know,” I admitted, unwilling to admit I'd been pondering whether it was an Annwn word for a pile of crap.
“A currach is a sea vessel ant to travel fairly large distances in the rough waters of Ériu." He ran his hand lovingly across the sides of the small ship. "She has been a worthy ally."
I stepped into the ship, moving to sit across from Manannán in the low spot in the very middle of the boat. The minute I was seated, Manannán whistled sharply, a sound that seed more appropriate to call a dog or a horse. Without a lurch, the currach turned and began to make its way toward the deeper open water. It skimd lightly over the surface.
“Long distances, huh,” I muttered, trying to imagine what it must have been like to spend days at sea, trusting my life to what seed like no more than a little bit of animal hide and tar affixed to a small wooden fra.
"The sheet," Manannán said, handing the end of a rope, one of two in the oversized dinghy. I vaguely rembered the sheet could be used to move the sail side to side, while the other, the halyard, would move the sail up and down. I clutched the rope in my hand, feeling stupid and as if I was missing sothing important. Was...the son of the sea god attempting to teach to sail? Maybe I'd misjudged what I'd believed to be his fairly distrustful deanor.
He pointed to the back side of the boat. “That is the tiller. It will help you steer the currach." Looking smug, Manannán leaned back against the side of the currach. "You will need both the sheet rope and the tiller to navigate what is to co.”
I was imdiately on edge. “I don’t think I like--or understand--your aning. What are we doing out here?”
“My Father risks much by trusting and aligning himself with soone so new to our world. I am less convinced you are worth that risk." He looked up and down. "But I respect my father and his wisdom, so will give you the opportunity to prove yourself worthy of his faith.” I sighed, preparing myself for more Otherworldly shenanigans I didn't feel at all ready to handle.
Ignoring , he continued, his tone ominous. "This sunset you will discover why this sea is called the Well of Wisdom. If you survive, I will accede to my father's wishes and trust you to find Goibhniu."
A few monts passed as the vessel sailed further into Murias Harbor. “That's it!" I shouted, snapping my fingers as inspiration hit. “I think I’ll call you Manny.”
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