GUILLAUME VII

  Lady Galdr was bustling around her home and looking well rested when Eógan, Esker, Guillaume, and Liadan returned. They had carefully navigated the winding path from the crooked tree and avoided awakening any of the mist demons.

  Lady Galdr cackled with delight when Guillaume opened his satchel and presented the mushrooms that they had found in the woods. “Quite the bounty of Bluecaps, dearies!” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  Guillaume still had difficulty making eye contact with her, the wizened skin and warty nose were distressing. He thought of how she appeared in the land of dreams, in the guise of a child. As he focused on that image in his mind’s eye, Guillaume was surprised to watch Lady Galdr’s features change. They rippled slightly and he could momentarily see a beautiful woman stooped in front of him.

  Lady Galdr reached a boney hand and pinched the his left side of his face. “Cheeky lad are you not?” she said as she winked at him. “I will help you further unlock these latent abilities, you have the potential to become a powerful nulltician.”

  As Guillaume tidied up his satchel, he was distressed to see that some of his parchment had been stained purple by mushrooms spores. When he took a closer look, he was intrigued by the clear pattern the spores from one of the mushrooms caps had left behind and scribbled a note to identify it.

  Lady Galdr shuffled across the room and towards a bubbling black cauldron. “Eógan,” she said while gesturing towards a shelf on the wall with a neat row of clay cups. Lady Galdr gave further instructions in Pechtish and Eógan obediently walked over and gathered the cups.

  Guillaume was surprised by how deferential Eógan was towards the witch, he seemed to be flippant at any opportunity and had a clear aversion to authority.

  Esker wandered over to the far side of the room, near Lady Galdr’s sleeping pallet, and began studying a peculiar looking stone. The stone was slightly larger than Guillaume’s fist, lumpy, and had a dull matte finish. Lady Galdr watched the Tengu keenly and muttered to herself, while looking well pleased. The witch snatched a long ladle from a hook on the wall and stirred the cauldron three times.

  While Eógan placed four clay cups on top of the witch’s table, he looked down at the complicated weave of the rug beneath it. He worked his bare toes a few times on the fabric, flexing and squeezing it.

  Metal clanked as Lady Galdr filled a large kettle with ladlefuls of the liquid from the cauldron and steeped the Bluecaps within it.

  Guillaume wrinkled his nose, but it was not because of the scent, which was earthy and sweet smelling. He could not help but feel apprehensive towards the witch, everything about her reminded him of the faerie tales he was told as a child and he did not want to end up inside her cauldron. It was not rational, Lady Galdr had been kind to him, far kinder than nearly anyone he had ever met. Guillaume felt guilty for his judgmental attitude and hoped to overcome it.

  Lady Galdr brought the steeping kettle over to the table and tapped her long fingernails against the ceramic kettle to command everyone’s attention. Esker looked reluctant to put down the stone she was examining at the other end of the room and was the last to gather around the witch. “Enjoy your tea, dearies,” the witch spoke into each of their minds and punctuated her invitation with a cackle.

  Eógan was the first to grab one of the clay cups filled with a dark tea, none of the rest were particularly eager. Eógan lifted the cup close to his nose, while peering into it and said “Sláinte?”

  Esker delicately picked up the cup in her large hand, stared at Lady Galdr, and downed the cup in a single gulp. Eógan laughed at Esker’s boldness as he took a long draw from his tea.

  Liadan took a slightly smaller sip and Guillaume noticed that everyone was looking at him. Suddenly his throat felt dry and he found it difficult to swallow. The cloying scent and color of the tea made it far less palatable. Guillaume steeled himself and took a tiny taste of the tea. He was surprised that it was not as intense tasting as it smelled. The tea had notes of a forest and was sweetened with honey. That description was vague, but it was the best Guillaume’s mind could muster. The tea tasted like running your hands through soft soil, like roots and sweet sap from a tree.

  Guillaume was shocked at how quickly he finished his cup and was left staring at the blue tinged mushroom cap at the bottom. Eógan had already begun chewing on his mushroom and Esker finished hers in a single bite. Liadan looked over at Guillaume and smiled as they both nibbled on their mushrooms. Guillaume grimaced a bit due to the chewy and slightly gritty texture.

  Guillaume was not sure what was expect next. Lady Galdr seemed pleased that all of them had finished their tea and walked over to the window, peering out into the bog. Under the wooden table where they drank their tea, the sizable rug Eógan had been examining covered the packed dirt floor. Guillaume had never paid much attention to it before, but now noticed that four colors were woven together into an intricate pattern. A vivid red, blue the color of woad, a verdant green, and jet black.

  The rug was striped near the base, yet soon the red intersected with the black, while the green and blue ran parallel for a bit before joining in a twist. The result was a peculiar aesthetic, similar to the chaotic plaid that the Pechts seemed to be fond of.

  The rest of the room was relatively sparse: the witch’s bed was tucked into a corner near where the large cauldron bubbled. A small hearth was built below where the cauldron was suspended, leading up to a chimney. None of the wood Lady Galdr used was cut, it all appeared to be branches recovered from deadfall. There were some cooking utensils and shelves packed with containers of herbs, which also seemed to be constructed out of uncut wood. Some of the jars on the shelves were unidentifiable, others had live creatures inside: small rodents, insects, and arachnids.

  Guillaume shuddered at the memory of the long-limbed Harvestmen that chased Esker and him through the caves.

  Lady Galdr turned and smiled to all of them. Once again she spoke directly into each of Eógan, Esker, Guillaume, and Liadan’s minds, “I have an errand to run, sweetlings, I may not be back for some time.”

  “Wait!” Guillaume shouted, uncharacteristically abrupt. All eyes turned to him once again and he fought the urge to return to his diffident tendencies. “Lady Galdr, we have something that we would like to show you.” Guillaume lay his satchel on the table, carefully unwrapping the scroll containing his diagram of the protective seal that he and Esker had encountered in the cave system. He met Esker’s eyes searchingly, when she nodded, Guillaume removed his hands.

  Lady Galdr’s wrinkled eyes widened and she moved quickly over to the table, momentarily forgetting to pretend to be infirm.

  The witch pressed her pointed fingernails into the parchment and inhaled a quick breath. “That warded circle marks the mind prison of a corrupted god. His physical remains were sealed elsewhere. Once a magnificent dragon who helped shaped the land with kindness, he is now known for his cruelness: he takes pleasure in manipulating those with good intentions into bringing about their own destruction. The Wyrd has spoken to me and warned of his release. We must do everything we can to prevent this evil from escaping,” Lady Galdr projected these thoughts into each of their minds. “Where did you come across this warded seal?” she said this last bit in Gaulish, addressing Guillaume directly.

  “Esker and I escaped through a cave beneath Lord Osmond’s castle. We came upon a domed chamber and those inscriptions were in the center of it. Esker could decipher some of the runes and prevented me from stepping within the circle of glyphs,” Guillaume responded.

  “You may not be here with us if you had trespassed within that circle of protection,” Lady Galdr said gravely. “You are fortunate for the Tengu’s diligence.” The witch turned towards Esker and focused intensely, Guillaume assumed that Lady Galdr was conveying a private message to the Tengu.

  After a few moments, Lady Galdr addressed Guillaume again, “We must revisit this matter at a later date, Esker cannot communicate directly with me outside of the realm of dreams, I can only project my thoughts to her. Perhaps your journey will change that.” The witch smiled crookedly as she gestured towards the empty cups on the table.

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  Guillaume wondered where all of them would be going and was confused by the witch’s statement.

  Lady Galdr spoke directly into all of their minds once more, “I have pressing matters to attend to and will not return before you depart.” It was a cryptic statement. “But fret not, we will encounter each other one last time.” Lady Galdr met the eyes of each of them in turn and Guillaume could detect a bit of sadness. With a whoosh of her tattered garments, the witch opened the door and stepped out into the bog.

  Guillaume peered out through the window, watching the Firefox beacons flare in sickly green light and a complex geometric shape was formed by beams of energy crisscrossing the mire. Mist demons awakened, eager and agitated. As Lady Galdr strode down the tortuous pathway leading to the crooked tree, the demons joined her in a ghostly precession.

  Guillaume trembled at the sight.

  EóGAN VII

  Eógan disliked the weak Jotman boy. Had Lady Galdr not insisted on the importance of each of them working in harmony, Eógan would have forced an ultimatum: him or me.

  Eógan still felt an overwhelming sense of shame from abandoning his raiding party and hearing his friends being slaughtered by the Jotman forces. Why had these horrible invaders come to Galálann? Why were the Jotman intent on destroying the natural world and exterminating those who stood in their way? Eógan knew in his soul that there was something broken about the invaders: their hunger to take was compensation for what was missing within.

  Eógan glared at the back of Guillaume’s head, as the boy looked out of the window. Suddenly, he recognized that he might be displacing some of his own angst on the young Jotman. The hatred he had felt so strongly now felt like dampen woolens clinging to his skin: a burden he needed to air out. Eógan would do his best to keep his snide comments and dismissive attitude to himself, yet it would be a challenge.

  He turned back to the well worn table top, across at Liadan and settled his gaze upon the Tengu, who was once more fiddling with the strange stone that she had found. Esker noticed his attention and stared back at him with her disconcertingly large eyes. They reminded Eógan of those of an owl or feline, well suited for low light conditions.

  Esker said something in a deep voice that he could not understand and after placing the stone down at the far end of the table, held out her hand, as if wanting something from him. Confused, Eógan cocked an eyebrow. Esker repeated the same phrase, closed her hand into a loose fist and gestured in a sexually provocative manner, which only perplexed him further.

  Liadan had been watching this exchange with equal curiosity and had a sudden epiphany, “Your knife Eógan! She wants to see it.” Esker continued to extend her large red hand across the table.

  Eógan was overcome with curiosity, so he drew the knife from his waist and brought it up to the table. Instantly Esker’s frustrated demeanor changed and her eyes light up with pleasure. The Tengu gently took the knife from Eógan’s hand and lay it on the table, with the point parallel between them. She grasped the edge of the stone at the far end of the table and slowly slid it towards the knife. Nothing happened.

  “What do you think she is hoping to accomplish?” Liadan asked in Pechtish as Esker was lost in focus.

  “Your bloody guess is as good as mine,” Eógan said as his eyes tracked Esker’s strange behavior. He began to voice a disparaging complaint when, as if by magic, the point of the dagger shot across the table and slammed into the stone with a thunderous crack.

  Guillaume was looking out the window and jumped with surprisingly athleticism, nearly reaching the ceiling.

  Esker’s eyes were beaming, while her face remained impassive. She slowly raised the stone in her hand and miraculously the knife snapped to the underside of the rock, held fast in place.

  “Fucking hell,” Eógan said solemnly. “That was unexpected.” As the ringing sound of the metal decayed, something about the tone made Eógan burst out laughing. Surprisingly, Liadan joined him.

  Feelings of euphoria typically marked the beginning of the spiritual journey potent substances like the Bluecap mushrooms generated. Fungus that induced visions were revered by Eógan’s people as religious sacraments and he had partaken once before, in order to bond with his animal spirits. Still giggling, he looked down at his bare forearms and felt tears welling up due to the absence of the pair of serpents that he had lost. As a tear rolled down his cheek, Eógan laughed again as the skin and hair on his arm rippled like the surface of a pond. The grain of the wood on the table similarly ebbed and flowed like a tide.

  “Do you see it too?” Liadan asked Eógan, both her hands were pressed on the tabletop and she was equally riveted. “It looks like water,” Liadan managed in between laughs. Esker’s already large eyes were opened even wider and her pupils were dilated to the size of a plump cherry.

  Guillaume was hyperventilating and frantically babbling, “What has taken ahold of me? What devilry is this? I feel inside out, like my boot is on the wrong foot.”

  “Does the Jotling ever stop whining?” Eógan snapped flippantly.

  “I have heard many bad tales about the Pechts, they must mostly be about you,” Guillaume fired back with an unfamiliar resolve, as he locked eyes with Eógan.

  They both narrowed their eyes. “Wait… you can understand me?” they said in unison, before laughing uncontrollably.

  “Do these surface-dwellers ever cease their petty squabbles?” Esker muttered to herself as she unsuccessfully tried to pry the knife from the stone with one hand. All eyes turned to her. When she raised her head, she noticed their attention. “I wonder what they want now…” she said as she continued to struggle.

  “Would you like some help Esker?” Liadan asked.

  Realization washed across Esker’s face and she looked to be on the verge of tears. “I would like that very much Liadan, thank you,” she said as she reverently offered the stone with the knife stuck it to Liadan. “It has been very lonely and frustrating to be unable to communicate with any of you.” Esker turned her large head towards Guillaume. “Thank you for trying to teach me, you showed kindness.” The emotion in her voice was clear and she dabbed at the corner of her eye with the back of her red hand.

  Guillaume looked a bit teary eyed himself and smiled warmly as he sat down on a stool. Eógan leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. He felt restless and while Lady Galdr’s home was cozy, he yearned to be out in nature with his bare feet in the soil.

  “I think we have some decisions to make,” Liadan said gravely as she pried the knife from the stone. Her attempt to keep a serious face was short lived, the four of them laughed heartily. She handed the rock back to Esker and took the knife by the blade with her freehand before offering it to Eógan. “I am serious,” Liadan said when her bout of hilarity subsided. “We need to figure out a way to prevent the evil god that Lady Galdr mentioned from escaping its prison. But first, I need to know if my family is alive and I need to rescue the other Gaídel girls from the abbey.” This time she was able to maintain her composure and her eyes briefly flashed with radiance. There was no immediate response to her statements.

  Eógan yawned.

  “That warded god spoke to me,” Esker said with her eyes studying the grooves and mustard discolorations of the magical stone in her hand. The rest waited with bated breath as the Tengu slowly continued. “I was promised the ability to survive, anything, in exchange for releasing the trapped god.” Esker shyly made eye contract briefly with each of them. “The trapped god is not alone. While recovering from my injuries, I had visions of traveling through the earth and encountered two other imprisoned evils. One was near my people, it whispered of progress and the importance of harvesting the resources that the land provides. I fear my people may already be influenced by that one’s spirit. We are devoted to industry and greed is justified for the greater good of our civilization.”

  “What vision Esker? How can you be certain these thoughts are true? Was this while you recovered from your injuries.” Guillaume asked. “Could it have been induced by your fever?”

  Esker turned her large eyes to Guillaume, but did not address his concerns. “I saw a third creature, trapped far to the west. It was wild and full of chaos.” She trembled a bit at the recollection. “It promised me power, uncontrollable power.”

  Guillaume started to raise more questions, yet Eógan cut him off. “Esker speaks true Jotling. To the west lies the Hill of the Sleeper, guarded by my people. A monster is trapped deep below that sacred site. The grass never grows above knee height and the ground is warm to the touch, even in the heart of winter.” Eógan drew his feet off of the table, “There is more to the land than we know, perhaps speaking to the Pechtish elders may give us answers.”

  “What do we prioritize?” Guillaume asked. “What could we possibly do to stop such powerful entities from breaking free?”

  “We must have faith,” Liadan responded. “Lady Galdr has give us the freedom to determine our own fates, we must decide what is a priority.”

  Eógan had little patience for Liadan’s piety, gods were fickle and imperfect like people. Those who put their trust in them were burdened by suffering and prone to stubbornness.

  Liadan continued, “We need to rescue my friends at the abbey, they are in horrible danger.”

  “Liadan…” Eógan interjected, “We barely made it out of there alive, how can we fight through an army of Jotman on our own? It would be suicide.” Liadan started to respond, but instead pressed her lips into a line.

  “We are strong,” Esker said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “However, we are few and need allies.”

  “Liadan, will your people fight against the Jotman?” Guillaume asked.

  “I do not know,” Liadan said earnestly. “If we travel to the Coronation Stone, we can petition the Gaídel High King and may hear word of my family.”

  “We may encounter my people as well,” Eógan added. “My raiding party was not the only one sent to this region.” He turned and looked towards Esker, “I think we need to address the olyphant in the room…” Eógan put his face to his shoulder and extended his arm as he made a trumpeting sound. Liadan laughed, her mask of seriousness cracked.

  “What do you mean?” Guillaume asked.

  “I see Eógan’s point, we may have trouble making allies with Esker’s, uh, distinct appearance.” Liadan and the others focused on Esker.