by J. M. Briggs
“So you think I’m seeing my own head?” Bran questioned. It sounded like he was trying to tease, but his voice came out too weakly. “Bit creepy.”
“We don’t know anything on that front,” Alex cut in giving them all a look. “Morgana said she’d try to uh… scry for Bran the Blessed’s head. She’ll let us know if she finds anything.”
And the silence returned with Jenny looking out the window as the beginnings of the sunrise appeared on the horizon. Lance watched Jenny and looked like he wanted to say something. Alex was leaning over the printed sheets Nicki had given her and a few chuckles escaped her from time to time. They’d gone from almost happy comradery back to awkward silence, and Nicki was aware of the ache at Aiden’s absence. She’d been surprised at how smoothly Jenny and Lance were beginning to fit in with their little rag tag team and couldn’t help but believe that if Aiden was here that these silences wouldn’t happen.
A groan made Nicki looked at Bran in alarm. He was clutching the edge of the table with a pain and frustrated expression. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing hard. Alex reached across the table towards him as she swung her legs out into the aisle with a worried look.
“Bran? Are you okay?” Nicki asked, beginning to shift out of her seat.
“Did I knock your leg?” Alex frantically moved her hands, reaching towards him.
“No, vision,” Bran grunted and they all straightened up around him. “Shit, it’s gone!” Bran slammed his hand on the table. “I thought I had something, I saw… I’m not sure; it was so fuzzy.”
“That’s fine,” Alex assured him with a forced smile. “We’re heading towards Pembrokeshire and you having visions trying to form is a good sign.”
“Maybe being on the train interfered with it,” Lance offered quickly. “Your magic comes from the Earth, but right now you don’t have a solid connection; you’re moving over it so it’s not even like a building.”
“Yeah.” Jenny nodded and gave him a smile. “Like Alex said, it’s a good sign. Probably means that when you try to meditate it’ll all come together.”
“Maybe.” Bran forced his fingers to relax around the edge of the table and slumped back against his seat. “We’ll see.”
It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it and Nicki couldn’t blame him. This whole quest was basically hinging on his powers, and worse the one that he couldn’t control. Everyone fell silent and looked away from Bran to give him some space, but Nicki couldn’t help but sneak glances towards him. Bran was looking down at his leg. His hand was settled on the brace that helped to keep him supported when he walked.
Nicki studied it for a moment, noting the form fitting plastic sections that tied in with the metal skeleton structure. When she’d first met Bran through Aiden she’d gone online to learn more about how leg braces worked so she didn’t say anything stupid. She knew that it helped keep Bran’s joints in position so that he could stand and walk; she knew that it didn’t really support him, but instead allowed his body to support itself, but he’d never been clear as to why he needed it. She knew about the accident when he was fifteen when Bran’s vision had caused him to grab the steering wheel from his mother and turn the car enough to save their lives, but Bran had never gone into detail about the extent and type of his injuries.
He had to be thinking about the Iron Chalice. Jenny pointing out the similarities between Bran the Fisher King must have gotten him thinking about it, and Jenny hadn’t even pointed out the biggest similarity between Bran and the Fisher King. It wasn’t about the name, not really: it was about the injury. Bran had an injured leg, he could stand and move around, but running was hard and combat always left him exhausted if he had to dodge. A terrible little voice in Nicki’s head pointed out that Bran’s injuries from the car crash might be a lot more severe than just the leg.
Nicki almost blushed at the line of thought she was on. She was a homosexual and thus didn’t think much about what men got up to, but the Fisher King’s injury had been to his groin. Sure the medieval writers hadn’t wanted to be clear about that, but it was generally accepted to be the case. So maybe it hadn’t just been his legs that had been hurt… she couldn’t remember Bran going on a date once since they’d met. Aiden was still dating Sarah even if she doubted that was going to last much longer, Alex had been hung up on Arthur since she met him which was a tragic mistake and she’d had more than a couple of dates and flings, but Bran…. Nicki did blush now and rubbed her fingers against her forehead.
“I’m going to Hell,” she muttered in despair as she forced herself to look away from Bran.
Yeah: he had to be thinking about the Iron Chalice and what it could mean for him. Nicki’s heart jumped a little at the idea of Bran not having to worry about his leg anymore. To be able to play soccer like he used to, or not have to rely on them so much to watch his back in fights. Nicki shifted uneasily in her chair. Was it wrong to hope for a disabled person to get better; was it an insult to their journey and the things they’d been through? Was it an insinuation that he wasn’t good enough? Would he see it that way? Was it wrong for her to be hoping that Bran would be healed? She wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel.
Eventually, the others stopped watching Bran with small sideways looks. Alex focused on her reading as the train rolled on towards Haverfordwest while Lance and Jenny tried not to stare at each other. The sun climbed above the horizon washing the gently sloping fields that were still remarkably green with light. Then the train slowed to a stop in Haverfordwest and they gathered their things. Nicki followed the others off the train, inhaling the fresh air though she couldn’t keep her eyes from dropping down to look at Bran’s brace once more.
“Shit!” Bran cursed as he began to sway in place.
Nicki jumped forward and grabbed his shoulder to keep him steady as she moved up beside him so he could lean against her. In the corner of her eye, she saw Lance move and the large football player placed himself behind Bran letting the smaller man lean back against him. Easing her grip on Bran’s shoulder, Nicki stepped around Bran and gasped softly as she looked at his eyes. His pupils had almost vanished; had narrowed into tiny pinpricks with his green iris blown wide and glowing a soft golden yellow. He was panting as his lips moved in soft, barely audible words.
She was vaguely aware of Jenny calmly telling other people on the platform that Bran would be fine and that they knew what to do while Alex stepped closer to him. Alex reached out and touched his shoulder, a flash of dark gray magic shimmering over her hand. Then Alex’s gray eyes darkened in color.
“Not you too!” Nicki slipped her head beneath Alex’s arm to keep the other girl steady.
“The sun… it’s in the wrong place,” Bran intoned in far off voice almost devoid of emotion. “Sun rises in the east, but there’s the ocean.”
Alex’s hand slipped from Bran’s shoulder and she slumped against Nicki with a groan. Nicki looked at Bran in mild alarm but relaxed as his eyes shifted back to normal and he blinked.
“What the-” Bran raised a hand and gripped his head gently. “That felt a lot more real than usual.” He looked over at Alex and Nicki dropped her gaze to the blonde as she shifted against her and began to stand up. “Alex, I think you helped me control the vision.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to!” Alex groaned as she rubbed her eyes. “Everything seems too bright.”
Lance slowly released Bran with a hesitant look, but Bran’s eyes were wide and bright. He didn’t look exhausted or irritated, in fact, he looked excited. Behind them, the train began to pull away from the platform leaving the group alone in the early morning light.
“What did you see?” Jenny asked.
“I was in a village, but not here. I had enough control that I was able to look around; it was almost like really being there.” Bran shook his head and his expression turned more serious. “The sun was rising, but I could see the ocean in the distance from the top of the hill: it was to the north. We’re not in the
right part of Wales.” Bran pointed off in a direction that Nicki guessed was the north. “We have to go north. The village… well, it wasn’t too far from the ocean.” Then Bran turned his eyes towards Alex and gaped at her in shock for a moment. “Alex… I think I saw Gofiben.”
“Really?” Alex asked in a thin strained voice. “Are you sure?”
“No, but he had a smith’s hammer and I just got the sense that’s who he was, and Merlin and Morgana were there.” Bran paused as a look of surprise took over his face. “They really haven’t aged at all, maybe twenty years tops.”
“Was there anything else?” Alex stepped closer to him with wide eyes. “Anything about the Chalice?”
“I… I don’t think I heard anything, I just saw things,” Bran explained nervously. “It looked like there had been a fire, Morgana had one of her light orbs in her hand and Merlin was talking with Gofiben. There was another man there, sort of looked like the smith.”
“Galath maybe,” Alex suggested with a nod. “He was… Gofiben’s brother.”
Nicki glanced between the two of them, noting that Alex looked pale and ready to be sick again. Bran was almost vibrating with nervous energy and whatever magic Alex had given him. She looked over at Jenny who was watching Alex with no small amount of worry. Just as Nicki was about to speak up Lance cleared his throat.
“Why don’t we go into town for breakfast and get information about how we can head north? We need more details about possible locations for this village.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Nicki agreed as she reached over and gripped Bran’s arm to keep him steady.
Alex’s legs began to buckle underneath her, but Lance stepped over and offered her his arm. Nicki watched as Alex gave him a shaky smile, and slowly and carefully the group gathered up their bags and headed for the exit; a new destination already in mind.
18
Fire and Sight
721 B.C.E. North Pembrokeshire Coast
From here he couldn’t see the ocean. The rolling hills between them and the coast made it impossible, but the villagers were uncomfortable with them practicing magic within the new walls. The survivors of Badb’s attack that remained in the area regarded Merlin and Morgana with suspicion and concern, and Merlin was certain that if they hadn’t been so afraid they would have insisted he and Morgana leave. It didn’t seem to bother Morgana, but Merlin had to admit that he was uneasy being viewed with such distrust.
Still, a small valley near the village provided a decent place to work with their young mages. The rocky slopes provided plenty of targets and helped to keep out any wild animals or wandering livestock. At least, it would have if Gofiben had managed to manifest his magic in any form except through his hammer and Cathanáil.
“That’s it,” Morgana said. She was sitting across from Gofiben, both of them on thick furs. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. “Relax and turn your focus inward. Below your heart, just above your stomach, there is a spark, a tiny flame waiting for you to build it up.”
Shaking his head, Merlin turned to look towards Galath who was seated on one of the smoother rocks with a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed and he was keeping a close eye on his younger brother. Merlin was tempted to chuckle at the childish behavior that Morgana and Galath tended to fall into whenever Gofiben was involved.
“Why is this so hard?” Gofiben whined. The boy’s fingers twitched toward the axe he’d made only a few days ago. “You said I keep putting magic into my ironwork.”
“You are.” Morgana reached out with glowing fingertips and moved them along the iron head of the axe so Gofiben could see sparks of orange magic reacting to her. “Only a little bit, it won’t linger long. Only a few years I expect, but when you are smithing you are pouring magic into what you do.”
“So why is this so difficult?”
“Gofiben I need you to relax,” Morgana said sternly. Her voice left no room for argument. “Try to imagine that you are in your forge and working on a new project. Think about how you feel then; how you’re thinking when you’re working.” Morgana’s voice softened. “Try to put yourself in that state. That’s how you access your magic. That’s you when you are calm, centered and most connected. Please try.”
Something about Morgana’s words or tone seemed to calm the young man. Gofiben pulled his hand away from the axe and folded his hands together in front of him. Morgana resumed her instruction and Merlin felt a little more optimistic about their ability to teach the young man. Gofiben needed to learn how to do more with his power and they couldn’t trust that he’d always have a hammer in hand.
He turned his attention towards Bran, who was seated away from Gofiben and having a great deal more luck. Merlin smiled when he caught a glimpse of the dusty green magic swirling around a few of the smaller stones. Slowly a hint of green appeared around them as a small bit of weed began to poke its way up between the rocks.
“Bran’s magic has the potential to be very useful,” Galath noted behind him. “And not for combat: imagine being able to harvest the crops early or even have fresh produce in winter.”
“He’s a long way off from being able to affect plants on such a massive level,” Merlin replied, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. “But it certainly has potential. His time in the fields with the livestock seems to have given him a strong link to the earth. I’m just hopeful that he finds a way to use it to protect himself. I doubt you want them depending on you forever.”
“You’ve been training them for almost a month now.” Galath frowned for a moment, but his expression softened when he looked at his brother. “But Badb is attacking villages all across the land and she’s coming closer.” Galath made a frustrated noise. “I know the walls don’t mean much to her, but giving an enemy time to rebuild is foolish. What is she waiting for?”
“Cyrridven hasn’t been able to tell us much. The reason for Badb being banished to our world is unknown, but she rejected all attempts by others of her to kind to help her hold onto her sanity. She seems to have embraced the madness our world inflicts on those who do not belong here,” Merlin said uneasily. “But we must try to get Gofiben and Bran ready to fight; they will be needed. Badb’s magic may only be useful for short periods of time, but it is brutal and terrifying. As for why she hasn’t attacked yet… I’m as worried as you are about what her reasons might be.”
“Can’t you do something about her?” Galath asked urgently. “During the last clan battle, she arrived and used her power to bring back the fallen.” Galath shivered at the memory of the battle. “It was horrible Merlin. We barely escaped.”
“It did stop a rather pointless battle, even if that was not truly her intent,” Merlin reminded Galath with a disapproving look. “Your brother needs you here; he and Bran lack the control needed to protect themselves from all but the most basic of threats.”
A shout of excitement made Merlin turn to look at Gofiben and Bran. Morgana was on her feet with her hands clasped together. Her eyes were wide and she beamed down at Gofiben, whose orange magic was swirling around his right hand. Sweat was dripping off of the boy’s forehead as he stared down at the glowing orange orb in his palm. Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the look of awe that was shining through Gofiben’s exhaustion. A sigh of relief bubbled up in Merlin’s chest, but he held it in. Morgana caught his eye and he could see a similar feeling in her own eyes. Gofiben had proven himself a highly intelligent and determined lad over the last few weeks, but without a hammer in his hand he never seemed to know what to do with himself. This was a reassuring sign.
“Wonderful.” Merlin grinned at him.
Morgana half-pulled Gofiben to his feet and pointed at one of the larger stones. The orb in his hand was beginning to glow and spark off embers. Grinning, the boy threw the orb towards the rock, but it arched too much in the air and crashed down almost two feet short. Flashing brightly on impact, the magic flared and a wave of heat flooded the valley as the energy left a
crater in the hard ground. Dirt flew into the air over Gofiben and Morgana with a few pebbles landing near Merlin’s feet.
“Ah… oops,” Gofiben offered weakly.
“I think that perhaps the boy’s talent will be for iron and fire.” Merlin chuckled. “And perhaps that is enough for the day.”
“Sorry about that.” Gofiben sheepishly looked down at his hand. Despite his embarrassment, Merlin noted that the boy couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
“I feel like I should be worried,” Bran remarked as he moved over to join them with a smile on his face. “I’ve got plants and you have fire. It doesn’t sound like a good mix.”
“Could be interesting,” Morgana said. Her eyes were brighter than Merlin had seen in some time. “Let’s have Gofiben try it one more time Merlin: I’d hate for him to lose his progress.”
Before he could say anything on the matter, Gofiben nodded eagerly and stepped away from them. Galath gave Morgana a look that she merely ignored. Shaking his head at them both, Merlin moved a bit to the right so he could watch Gofiben’s face. His features were relaxed as Gofiben unclenched and clenched his hands a few times. Then orange sparks of magic began to appear around his hand, flickering like embers on the wind. For a moment Gofiben just grinned at the sight of them. He shifted his hand and the tiny glowing sparks of magic swirled around his fingers and followed his movement. Sparks spun together to form a ball of fire in his hands.