by J. M. Briggs
“You are such a sap,” Nicki teased.
Frowning, Alex opened her mouth to argue with that, or at least defend it as not being a bad thing when a knock on the door made them both look toward it. The door opened a few inches a moment later and Lance tentatively looked in at them. He looked a bit worried, and Alex wondered if he was expecting bloodshed or something. Then he eased the door open enough that he could lean into the room.
“Ah, excuse me.” Lance looked a bit embarrassed as he glanced between them. “Jenny found something that might be helpful.”
“What did she find?” Nicki asked as she stood up from the bed. She swayed slightly and Alex jumped up and grabbed her arm to steady her. “Thanks.”
“Well, we were working on dinner and she just decided to start doing some searches online and something came up.”
“Dare I ask what her search words were?” Alex asked. Releasing Nicki’s arm, she quickly crossed the room with Nicki a step behind her.
“I think this search was Celtic mythology, skull, and cup,” Lance informed them with a shrug. “It brought up information on Bran the Blessed.”
“Bran the Blessed?” Alex repeated. “That sounds familiar.”
“We glanced it over when we were doing a Celtic mythology assignment,” Nicki reminded her. Lance turned and they began to head downstairs. “But it was more Welsh than Irish so we left it alone. What about it?”
“Well apparently one, it is Welsh, two, the guy had a magic cauldron.” Lance stayed in front of them as they reached the bottom and positioned himself to catch Nicki if needed. “And three, his head was cut off and buried to protect something.”
Nicki suddenly stopped on the stairs in front of Alex and turned to her with a small smile. As Nicki raised an expectant eyebrow it occurred to Alex that she probably looked stunned. Nicki shrugged at her with a teasing smile before she followed Lance down the stairs, leaving Alex standing on the small, wooden staircase by herself for the few seconds it took her to gather her wits. Shaking her head, Alex followed the others downstairs, trying to the keep the hope bubbling in her chest in check.
14
Bran the Blessed
Alex was trying to remember the paragraph or so that she’d read on Bran the Blessed as they headed down the hostel hallway to the kitchen. Around them she could hear the sounds of other guests moving about, and based on a couple of shouts there was a group preparing for a pub crawl. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the best memory for what she read, which was sad given that she was the literature major. The story hadn’t been about the Sídhe and thus had been largely ignored by the group except for Aiden pointing out that Bran’s nickname matched the figure’s name. She glanced over at Nicki, who had a thoughtful expression on her face and wondered if the other girl thought this might be helpful.
As they approached the open kitchen doorway, Alex could hear fragments of a conversation between Jenny and Bran. An odd feeling of confusion swept over her. It was odd to suddenly have Nicki being friendly towards Lance, and now apparently Bran and Jenny were having a conversation on their own. She was happy of course, but the notion had an otherworldly feel to it that made her feel a little bit suspicious.
“I've met other hapas who have the 'Asian glow', and I've met a few that look more European than I do,” Bran’s voice said with a hint of amusement from inside the kitchen. “I'm at least lucky that I can recognize my dad in me thanks to getting his eyes.”
“Yeah, I've got to be honest, I've been trying to figure out what it was about you-” Alex heard Jenny start to say.
“The cheekbone structure and brow shape. A lot of people don't even notice, but I've gotten the ‘what's your mix’ question more than a few times.”
“Have you ever gotten crap about it?” Jenny asked.
Alex glanced towards an equally befuddled Nicki who shrugged. They reached the doorway and Alex glanced inside to find Bran and Jenny seated at one of the two small round tables in the room. Three of the four walls were lined with cabinets and appliances with bright colorful posters of London, Edinburgh, and Cardiff covering almost all the blank space. A pot of water was bubbling on the gas stove, but neither Bran nor Jenny seemed to have noticed as they chatted.
“No not really; keep in mind the Asian stereotype tends towards smart, disciplined, good at math and such things. There're a few people I’ve met who don’t like biracial, but most of them haven’t really caught on that I’m mixed.”
“I remember when I started middle school, someone asked me if my mom could come and clean his house,” Jenny said with a clear tone of lingering annoyance.
“Ouch, what I always loved was when people assumed that my Korean mother was my nanny, but I think that was the worst I ever got.”
“Lucky.” Jenny sipped at her glass of water. “Do you identify much with your Asian side?”
“Not really, I mean my family lives here now and they were pretty determined to start over in the US. I've never been to Korea and only speak a few words of the language.”
Lance coughed to announce their presence and both Jenny and Bran turned in their chairs to look over at them. Jenny’s eyes darted between Nicki and Alex with a hint of worry that gradually faded as they moved into the small kitchen and dining area. Lance slipped past them and went to the boiling pot of water on the stove.
“So what's your dad?” Lance asked as he dumped a bag of noodles into the hot water.
“He was German, Polish and a couple other things,” Bran said. “Bit of a classic American mutt.”
“Okay, I’ve got to ask.” Nicki looked between Bran and Jenny in confusion. “What the hell brought on that conversation?”
“Well, I found a page on Bran the Blessed.” Jenny turned her tablet so they could see the screen. “And it was kind of funny so I asked Bran if he was Irish or anything like that and he laughed and told me he was half Korean.” Jenny giggled at herself. “It really wasn’t that crazy or random, I promise.”
“Apparently Bran the Blessed is a Welsh figure who went to war with Ireland,” Bran explained looking a bit too amused by the situation. “Now that’s probably only semi-historical or a later addition, based on our experiences thus far with how accurate these things are.” Bran licked his lips and seemed to struggle for words for a moment. “The thing is that Bran the Blessed apparently had this cauldron that could heal; some stories give it other powers, but the thing was powerful.”
“One of the linked articles was about how the cauldron might have been one of the mythological items that inspired the Holy Grail,” Jenny admitted with a conflicted look.
“Plus Bran the Blessed’s head was supposed to have been cut off and buried,” Bran finished. “Actually the myth says it is at the white hill, which some think is the modern Tower of London.”
“Bran means raven,” Jenny added quickly.
“Yeah so that’s part of the whole “if ravens ever leave the tower” thing probably,” Bran said. “But the point is that this is a Welsh figure that actually might link to the Iron Chalice.”
“The Iron Soul’s name was Gofiben,” Alex remarked with a small frown. “But you might be right about this being a clue. It’s at least in Wales.” Alex set the tablet down. “Anything else?”
Nicki reached forward to grab the tablet and scrolled through it, nodding her head a few times. “Okay, Bran the Blessed is from the Second Branch of the Mabinogion. His cauldron can resurrect the dead, though those revived cannot speak. He gives it to the Kings of Ireland when the king marries Bran’s sister, but war breaks out.” Nicki’s eyebrows went up and she glanced towards Bran before continuing. “He is wounded in the leg and the cauldron is destroyed. Bran’s head is severed and his followers take it back to Britain leading to its eventual burial to protect Britain.”
“This is why I’ve never been big on mythology,” Lance said with a disgusted look. “They cut off his head?”
“In Celtic tradition, the head was the seat of the soul, emotion, and str
ength,” Nicki explained. “It’s one of the reasons for them taking the heads of warriors they slew in battle.”
“Okay, gross,” Lance remarked with a shudder.
“Additionally, well more amusing than anything, is that the Bran myth is also linked to the Fisher King myth of Arthurian legend. You noticed the whole leg injury thing,” Bran told Alex with a pointed look. “Maybe I’m overly optimistic, but three strong links to the legends connected to what we’re looking for makes me wonder if this might not be the right research path to take.”
“Fisher King?” Lance repeated with a frown. “I’m not familiar with that.”
“Well it’s a lesser known part of Arthurian lore,” Nicki explained. “It’s not a popular story like the sword in the stone or Lancelet and Guin-” Nicki stopped herself and looked sheepish. “Never mind.”
“The Fisher King, or the Wounded King, is a weird figure in the Grail story,” Bran said drawing attention away from the blushing Nicki. “He changes a lot depending on the writer of the Grail myth, but he’s usually the last in a long line of grail keepers, sort of like the knight in the Indiana Jones movie. Anyway, he’s a king who has some kind of injury, usually the groin though the medieval text said thigh, and is incapable of moving on his own. Due to this his connection to the land is weakened and his kingdom starts to become a wasteland. All he is able to do is fish near his castle where he waits for someone to heal him. In the Grail stories, the knight who is seeking it uses the Grail to heal the Fisher King.”
“Uh… if he was the guardian of the Grail why didn’t he heal himself with it?” Lance asked. He was pouring cans of sauce into another pot and turned to look towards them. “What?” he asked at the weird looks.
“It’s a valid question,” Jenny said in his defense. She sent a warning look towards Bran that made Alex smile.
“I think some stories say that he got the wound because he tried to use the Grail,” Nicki answered carefully with a thoughtful look. “At least in some versions. In other versions, one of the Knights of the Round Table was the one who hurt him. There are a ton of variations.”
“Really a Knight of the Round Table hurt him?” Lance asked with a frown. “I thought they were supposed to be the good guys?”
“Well, medieval knights: nice to certain classes of people, douches to others and jerks who disobeyed the tenets of being a knight,” Nicki offered with a shrug. “We tend to make myths nicer in our modern retellings.”
“We’re off topic,” Alex interjected.
“Yeah, back to the Grail issue,” Bran reminded them all with a roll of his eyes. “Though it’s not the Holy Grail we’re after: we’re after the Chalice that inspired the story of Bran the Blessed’s cauldron and those later myths.”
“The archetype,” Alex remarked with a nod. “Okay, it looks like we’ve got something at least to go on, but is there really any chance that Bran the Blessed’s head is under London, or are we thinking it’s in Wales somewhere? We’re still lacking a real idea of what we’re looking for.”
“Yeah, and there isn’t a location given in the Fisher King myth that I put any faith in for a possible site of the chalice and… Bran’s head.”
“Wait,” Jenny called out, fixing a curious look on Bran. “Isn’t your last name Fisher?”
“Yeah, it is,” Bran agreed with a nod and slight blush. “Bit weird I know. My nickname being Bran and Fisher being my last name, but it’s just a coincidence.”
“Do you actually believe in coincidences?” Jenny raised a beautifully shaped eyebrow.
“Sure.” Bran shrugged and gave Jenny a look of his own, “Though in some cases I’ll admit that magic probably has an impact and there may be a bit more going on than we know so far, but yes, I’m completely okay with the idea of a coincidence.”
Jenny looked like she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Alex held back a sigh of relief. Everyone seemed to be doing alright today, and she could only hope that it continued for a couple more days at least. Lance glanced her way as he brought a stack of mismatched plates over from one of the cabinets, looking a touch worried. A moment later he brought over the forks which clanked loudly in the quiet room.
“I think we need to talk with Morgana again,” Alex suggested. “Maybe this will spur some kind of memory.”
“If she knew about it don’t you think she’d have said something by now?” Bran asked with a frown.
Nicki frowned, her lips twisting unpleasantly. “Or maybe she’s withholding information to see what we can find.”
“Don’t be unkind, Nicki,” Bran told her sternly.
“Morgana said that she and Merlin weren’t present during that last bit with the Chalice, so this may just be a mess of stories to her as well,” Alex reminded Nicki. “The person who took the Chalice to hide and maybe… Bran’s head,” Alex flinched when she said that, feeling a bit ill, “well, they died before they reported where they hid it, so this is all second-hand at best for her too.”
Bran sighed and shrugged while Nicki begrudgingly nodded at Alex’s words. “Well, then I think we have to call her.” Bran chuckled and glanced towards Jenny. “And this is why you should actually be grateful that you’ve got the phone that works over here. I don’t think Morgana has your number.”
“Oh I bet Morgana does,” Alex said. “It’s probably more like she’d keeping Merlin from finding out what it is.”
Jenny looked more than a little uncomfortable at that idea but was distracted by Lance bringing over a steaming pot of noodles and pasta sauce with a little cheese sprinkled on top. He handed Nicki the oversized spoon and a plate with a tentative smile that the redhead returned. For a moment Alex wished she could take a picture of the group to send to Merlin and Morgana, probably with a caption like: see you didn’t have to talk about killing them. It was probably just as well that her phone couldn’t access a network right now.
“Alright so Alex will talk to Morgana after dinner,” Bran said, pulling her attention back to the here and now as she was dished up a plate of pasta. “And the rest of us will hide from her just in case Merlin is also present.”
Alex sat down at the table and grabbed one of the forks, trying to ignore the odd churn in her stomach at the idea of talking to Merlin about everything that was going on. Sighing softly, Alex leaned her face against her left hand as she slowly began eating, and listened to the others try to find a topic they could all discuss that had nothing to do with Arthurian lore or Celtic mythology. They had to settle on school and their classes for next semester; the hint of awkwardness still hung in the air around them, but not as thick.
After they finished dinner, Alex noticed that Nicki was moving rather sluggishly. Her usual energy was absent and she’d been quiet the last half of the meal. Sharing a look with Bran, Alex silently agreed that Nicki needed rest after dinner. Jenny and Lance seemed to catch on as well. Once everyone was finished they gathered up the plates and flatware while Jenny started the dishes and Lance began cleaning up the kitchen.
“We have to leave early in the morning,” Bran told Nicki conversationally. “How about showers tonight and turning in early?”
“Yeah,” Nicki agreed weakly with a small smile. “Sounds like a plan, uh, anyone mind if I go first?”
“No,” Alex agreed quickly. “Go for it, I need to get set up to call Morgana.” She picked up the tablet. “Thanks for taking care of dinner Lance, Jenny. See you upstairs.”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “We’ll be up later.” When you’re not talking with the scary history professor went unsaid, but Alex nodded her understanding.
Nicki made it up the stairs without Alex’s help, but it was a near thing. Alex almost suggested that Nicki skip the shower and just crawl into bed, but her friend’s expression was firm and determined. She glanced towards Bran who shrugged helplessly as Nicki grabbed her small toiletry bag and vanished into the bathroom.
“I’ll watch the door,” Bran sighed as the bathroom door closed with
a firm clicking sound. “Good luck.”
Putting down the tablet, Alex logged in and scrolled down her list of contacts. Morgana was logged on and Alex exhaled in a blend of resignation and relief. The call connected almost instantly as the sound of the shower turning on hummed in the room.
“Hello Alex,” Morgana greeted pleasantly with a look of relief on her face. “I’m glad you called.”
“What time is it there?” Alex asked with curiosity as she recognized that Morgana was in her study at her home with a tall bookcase behind her. The professor was dressed in a university sweatshirt with her long dark hair hanging loose. “I didn’t wake you did I?”
“Relax dear, it’s just after three in the afternoon.” Morgana smiled warmly. “How are you? Are you alright? What about the others?”