Across the Sea (Islands in the Mist Series Book 2)

by J. M. Hofer

  Bran’s escort seated him next to Garanhir. “What may I pour you to drink, my lord?”

  I chose her well, Garanhir mused, noting his guest seemed quite at ease.

  “Ale.”

  Garanhir smiled at Bran’s choice. Wine was for women and Romans. “Tell me of your people, Lord Bran,” he prompted, once his guest had been served.

  “Our clan is a young one, born of blood,” Bran began openly. “The battles over the past few years have cost us many warriors. To survive, we have united and chosen the Oak as our symbol.”

  “A fitting choice for a clan of survivors,” Garanhir remarked.

  “Yes. Not only have we survived, but we’ve survived well, thanks to the Great Mother, who has blessed us abundantly. That’s why I’ve come to you. I know our people have traded before. We have fine horses and livestock and crops for sale or trade, and you’ll not find finer blacksmiths in the land. Our swords are legendary.”

  Garanhir was listening, but his eyes were trained on the gold torc and brooch Bran wore. He had never seen finer, and he was a man who had seen many, many fine things.

  “There are goods I would like to provide for my people,” Bran continued. “With the Romans gone and the Saxons squatting on the eastern shores, there are many goods that no longer reach us here in the West. If we want them, we must get them for ourselves.”

  “We must indeed.” Garanhir could feel a good business opportunity in his bones the way he could feel a storm brewing, and he felt one stirring now. Recently, he had undertaken his most expensive venture yet. He had managed to lure to his court a young master shipbuilder by the name of Irwyn from the Saxon settlement of Kent. No man was without his price; this was something he knew well, yet he also understood a man’s need to achieve something of importance in life and attach his name to it. He had made certain Irwyn was capable, but, more importantly, that he was underestimated, underappreciated and underpaid. It had not taken much to convince him to come west and agree to oversee the building of a ship for him—one strong enough to sail the open sea and large enough to carry heavy loads of cargo. With it, Garanhir would no longer be bound to trading with local clans. He could send his men to the land of the Gauls and bring back goods that, as Bran said, had only previously reached their shores by way of the Romans. All he needed was gold to hire a crew and see it done. “Forgive my boldness, Lord Bran,” Garanhir said, “but my son says there are rumors throughout the land that you live within a mountain of gold.”

  “Is that what they say?” Bran asked, turning to Elffin.

  “Yes, such are the songs they sing of Bran the Golden,” Elffin replied. “Along with praises that you are well-loved among your people and fearsome on the battlefield.”

  “I see.”

  Garanhir could not tell if his guest was pleased or surprised. “I’ve heard the songs,” he confirmed. “We may hear one tonight, I daresay!”

  “I daresay we won’t,” Bran replied hastily. “I’ve never been more warmly received by a more gracious host. The only praises that warrant singing under this roof are to you, Lord Garanhir, so tell your bard I’ll break his lute over his pretty head if he dares it.”

  Garanhir pictured his weak-chinned skinny bard wearing his lute as a collar and it made him laugh. The more he thought of it, the more he laughed, until his servants feared he might be choking and came to aid him. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” he finally managed to yell, pushing them away.

  “As we’re on the subject of rumors, I’ve heard tale of one myself,” Bran added, putting Garanhir on the spot.

  “Is that so? What have you heard?” Garanhir raised his brows.

  “I’m intrigued.”

  “That you have a dark-haired woman under your roof named Ula, who has borne a child with hair the color of mine.”

  Garanhir glanced over at Elffin just in time to witness panic jump into his eyes. He knew what his son was thinking—that Bran was the child’s father and had come to take Ula and her child away. Ah, my poor son. Perhaps he was indeed born under a bad sign.

  No one said anything, until finally Elffin mustered the courage to ask the obvious question. “Are you the father of her child?”

  “No,” Bran replied quickly, seeming a bit surprised by the question. “The father is not among you?”

  “No,” Elffin replied, visibly relieved to find out Bran was not her lover. “How do you know her? Who are her people?”

  Garanhir noted that Bran seemed preoccupied as he answered.

  “I met her on one of my many travels. I have no knowledge of her people or where she comes from. However, as you know, the dangers of the road are many, and no greater than for a woman traveling alone. I convinced her that we should travel together as long as we were going in the same direction, and invited her to stay with my clan as long as she liked. She stayed in our village a few days and then moved on. When I heard she was here beneath your roof and had borne a child, I assumed she had married someone of your house. So, in addition to my trade proposal, I have come to see her and pay my respects. I’ve brought gifts for her and the child.”

  “No, she hasn’t married one of our house, but she soon will,” Elffin announced proudly. “She’s consented to be my bride come summer.”

  Bran did not look pleased at the news, and Garanhir could not help but suspect there was more to his relationship with Ula than he was revealing, but he did not pry. He was a patient man.

  “You will come, of course,” Elffin said. “I’m certain Ula would be pleased. She has no family or friends that I know of.”

  “Yes, of course, but why is she not here, on a night as festive as this?” Bran glanced at Garanhir.

  “This is a night for the men to speak of trade. The only women here are those in service. I am certain the others would not find such talk of interest to them.”

  “Then I would like to see her in the morning.”

  “Of course,” Garanhir answered for his son, shooting him a look to keep quiet. “I am sure she would be pleased.”

  ***

  Bran retired with much on his mind, wondering how he would manage to find Ula and speak with her privately. It was the only way to know what she truly desired. If that was to marry Elffin and remain at Caer Gwythno, he resolved to find a way to ensure that she could. She had done far more for him than he ever had a right to ask for, and she deserved happiness. He owed her that much. However, though Elffin was transparent in his intentions, Garanhir was decidedly not. Bran knew Garanhir gained neither wealth nor status for his only son through such an alliance. On the contrary, he risked shame and scandal upon his house, for Ula had borne a child by an unknown father. Bran knew there had to be an explanation for why such a strategic and powerful man would be content with such a union, and he was determined to find out before he would consent to leave Ula behind.

  To that end, when the night was nearly over, Bran crept silently out of his quarters to search for Ula. To his surprise, he found Islwyn in the corridor, with Ula beside him, babe in arms.

  “Quick, inside!” Islwyn whispered. He ushered them into his room and then shuffled in himself, closing the door softly behind them. Ula took off her hood and smiled up at Bran, but he could see fear in her expression.

  Anger at Garanhir boiled up in Bran, for the man surely had to be the cause of it.

  “She fears we have come to return her to Tegid Voel,” Islwyn said, as if he had heard Bran’s misguided assumptions. “I have promised her we are here for no such reason.”

  At this Bran softened and felt a twinge of shame. “No, Ula,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “We haven’t come to take you away. If you wish to stay, we’ll find a way.”

  Relaxed by his reassurances, she went to the chair in front of the hearth and sat down, resting the child in her lap, and then beckoned to Bran and folded back the swaddling.

  Bran gasped at what he saw. There was only the faintest of light in the room, yet the child’s face looked as if it were illuminated by
a dozen candles. He stared for some time, looking around the room for the source of the golden light that he was convinced had to be there, but there simply was none—none other than the child himself. “Great Mother! The child shines!” he finally exclaimed. Then it dawned on him—the child was Ula’s dowry, not her downfall. He was the reason Garanhir approved. “Is he yours?”

  Ula looked at him in confusion.

  “Did you give him life?” Bran made motions with his hands around his middle, trying to imitate the roundness of a woman with child. “Did he come from you?”

  Ula shook her head. “The Sea is his mother.”

  “She found him in the sea,” Islwyn explained, gazing down at the babe in wonder. “Seems he was swimming around like a wee fish!” Islwyn opened his eyes in mock surprise, tickling the baby beneath his chin and cooing at him. “Isn’t that so, little fishy? Isn’t that so?” The baby looked up at Islwyn and giggled, pumping his arms and legs. Islwyn laughed and smiled wider than Bran had ever seen him smile before. “Hee hee! Oh, you’re a treasure, aren’t you!”

  Bran wondered what happened to the child. Had he been thrown in to drown on purpose? Though horrible, it was known to happen. Perhaps he had fallen out of a boat, or had been left upon the shore by a careless fisherwoman and was pulled in by the waves. Regardless of how he had met his watery fate, though, it did not explain the boy’s inner light. “What is he?” Bran asked Islwyn, turning away from the child for the first time. “A god?”

  “The son of a god, perhaps,” Islwyn pondered, “or born of the Fae. He could have been born of any such magic, but, make no mistake—of magic, he was most certainly born.”

  Bran returned to staring, mesmerized by the boy’s face. The child looked up at him with eyes that echoed and moved like the sea, full of blues and greens that changed continually, and Bran found himself desperately wanting to hold him. He had never wanted to hold a child before in his life.

  “Only a fool values gold, land, or any other thing of this world over magic as strong as this,” Islwyn added. “Garanhir is obviously no fool.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Bran replied. “Our work is two-fold. First, we must gain Ula her freedom from Tegid Voel. Then, we must ensure that Garanhir will allow her and the child to leave, if and when they wish.”

  “What do you suggest?” Islwyn asked.

  “We’re going to have to explain to Elffin and his father that Ula is pledged to Tegid Voel, and if she is to become free to marry another, Tegid Voel must be compensated. Otherwise, they’ll never live here, or anywhere else, in peace.”

  “And neither will we,” Islwyn said with a grave frown.

  “No, neither will we.” Bran grimaced.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Journey to the Lake

  After his clandestine meeting with Islwyn and Ula, Bran returned to the room he shared with Maur. He was greeted by deep snoring and Madoc’s eager face. “No, boy,” he whispered with a smile as he cupped the dog’s head in his hands and gave his ears a good scratch. “Lay down ‘til the sun comes up.”

  Madoc understood and obediently went to lay down by the hearth. Bran put another log on the fire, gave Madoc a bit of dried meat, and then went to the window to await the dawn.

  The weather had changed for the worse since they had arrived. The wind blustered enough to drown out Maur’s snores from time to time, whistling through the cracks in the castle’s stone wall with cold and salty breath, while the sea spun and thrashed her white skirts against the rocky shore far below. Slowly, the sky turned from black to dusty rose, until the sun lit up the east. There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he yelled, waking Maur.

  A pretty maid entered with a tray of bread, cheese, fruit and a bowl of milk. “Good morning, milords,” she said cheerily, setting down the tray. She then put the bowl of milk in front of Madoc who eagerly began lapping it up.

  Maur sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then grinned. “Well, isn’t that a glad sight to start the day with? A pretty lass bringin’ me and my dear pup a hearty breakfast!”

  The girl smiled. “I am to bid you come and visit the Lady Ula in the hall where you feasted last night, whenever it pleases you,” she said to Bran.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else I might do for you, milords?” she asked sweetly, glancing back and forth between the two.

  “No, lass,” Bran said, shooting Maur a look. “Thank you.”

  Maur frowned, clearly disappointed that Bran had spoiled the fun he had planned, but smiled again as he turned his attention to breakfast. “Well, whatever his faults, that Garanhir knows how to run a house, you must give him that.” He took a bear-size bite out of a loaf of bread.

  “He does,” Bran agreed, marveling at his friend’s appetite. After the feast the night before, he could not even think of eating. He took a deep breath. “Maur, I need a favor.”

  “What?” Maur asked with his mouth full.

  “When you take Madoc out, do a bit of poking around if you can. See if you find anything unusual.”

  Maur’s expression showed the proper amount of seriousness due the task, which was one of the reasons Bran loved him so much. No one knew better than Maur how to have a good time, but when action was required, he could be counted upon.

  “I’ll do so. And put the lads to the task as well,” he said.

  Reassured, Bran left to collect Islwyn. The two of them went to the hall and found Ula sitting by the fire, babe in arms, with Elffin and Garanhir close by.

  After the proper amount of acting to convince his hosts he was just seeing her for the first time that morning, Bran asked her permission to discuss the subject of Tegid Voel. She nodded.

  “I have not yet revealed all of my reasons for coming to you,” he began. “Ula is indeed a dear friend of mine, but I know her far better than I admitted last night. She is in trouble.”

  Elffin furrowed his brow and put a hand on Ula’s shoulder.

  “She has an obligation to marry someone else—a lord named Tegid Voel. If she returns to him, she would be unable to take her child with her.”

  “What?” Elffin asked. “We must find a way to free her from this. Is it her father who holds her to this union?”

  Bran shook his head. “No, her father is…dead.” He did not know what else to say, for he had no idea whether Ula had any family or not.

  “Then she is free to do as she wishes!” Elffin argued.

  “This man she is pledged to is very dangerous. He could lay waste to your kingdom if she does not return to him.”

  “If he is so dangerous, then why have I never heard of him?” Garanhir asked, narrowing his eyes on Bran.

  Bran did his best to explain, but he could not convince Garanhir or Elffin that Tegid Voel was a threat. He considered risking the truth, but it was doubtful they would believe that either.

  Ula had said nothing throughout the entire argument, so everyone was surprised when she stood up and cried out, “He will destroy your home!”

  They fell silent and looked at her.

  “He will,” Ula insisted with a frightened look, her eyes darting between Elffin and Garanhir, “unless I go back.”

  “Absolutely not!” Elffin cried. A look of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by genuine concern as he put his arm around Ula’s shoulders and whispered what were surely comforting words in her ear.

  He truly loves her, Bran observed.

  Then, Elffin said something that surprised everyone in the room, including Ula. “I know Ula is a selkie,” he announced. “I wish to say it plainly, so there’s no misunderstanding of my comprehension on this matter. We are, after all, people of the sea, and have lived on her shore for generations. We’re not strangers to her wondrous children, nor do the wisest of us make the mistake of pretending we know all the secrets her depths hold—she is surely mother to as many unknown wonders as there are stars in the heavens. ”

  Bran felt his respect for Elffin growing by the minute.

&
nbsp; Elffin then shot a venomous look at his father that did not go unnoticed by Bran. “I expect you to return her skin to her. She is not a prisoner here. She is free to come and go as she pleases.”

  Bran waited until he was sure Elffin had finished, and then stepped forward. “Lord Elffin, I promise you, I’ll find a way to appeal to Tegid Voel, and will not rest until I’ve secured Ula’s freedom. I owe her this.”

  Elffin finally appeared to believe the story Bran had told. “What will you offer him in return?”

  “All that is in my power to give, until he consents,” Bran promised. He gave Ula a tender glance. My life, even, if I must.

  “He is lonely and angry,” Ula whispered, worry spoiling her beautiful features. She held the baby close to her chest as tears began to flow down her cheeks.

  Bran went and knelt at her side. He took her chin and turned her face toward him. “I will free you.”

  Ula’s face became calm, her eyes full of trust. Bran vowed to himself that even if the price were his own life, he would not fail her.

  “I’m going with you,” Elffin declared.

  Bran was surprised, but did not protest. He liked Elffin. A man motivated from the heart was always valuable when on a quest, and Elffin was surely as motivated to secure Ula’s freedom as he was, if not more so. He would prove a good ally.