ShipTeaser

  “It seems we have unwele guests.” Gwenhwyfar muttered, the py of the silver lightning overhead refleg in the ripples of the small ke that sat at the heart of the glen, fragrant trees resple with pink, white and golden blossoms despite the season ba the Material. Well, autumn is no matter here, in the shadows of Avalon. Pg down the cup of half-drunk tea on the pretty, enamelled saucer, she put it oable made from oak wood, inid with gold and silver in patterns of Celtiotwork.

  A replica, of course, and a pale shadow of the inal. Or so the stories handed down go. Turning to the shapely females that surrounded her, their hair long and auburn, their white dresses diaphanous and transparent, barely hiding their inhumay, she asked them to fetch her guards. As they curtsied and backed away, Gwenhwyfar sidered her options carefully.

  “Well, I suppose this was only a matter of time. They were tent to leave us remnants of the old times alone while the Gods were absent, but now… well, Aeronwen smiles upon the brave, does she not?” Standing, she swept her bck cloak over her shoulders, in stark trast to the white gown she wore, unadorned but of fine cloth, reag for the rusted sword that y against the leg of the round table. O was in her hands, the feeling reassuring, familiar, she looked at her own refle in the pcid ke. Her clear blue eyes stared back at her, her rich blonde hair streaming down her back, the colour of spun gold. Unlike her sister or most of the few remaining Merced y Llyn, she was well endowed and tall, far from the willowy, nymph-like figures that those with Fae blood often sported.

  The tranquillity of the ke was broken by the sound of booted feet, as a half-dozen of her closest retives, all men appearing from ages of twenty to fifty, arrived, wearing strangely old-fashioned mail armour, and carrying maces, axes and swords. “Daughter, is it trouble?” one asked, his blonde hair faded to grey, a scatter of stubble on his patri features. Beside him, the you of her guards also asked for her sel.

  “Peace, brother dearest, father. Yes, it is defirouble. It looks like the long-hidden arm of the great Church has e calling. I doubt very much they are simply here for tea and pleasantries. And if they know the location of this small hidden vale, it seems likely there would be little point in fleeing this fragment of Avalon. No, their advantage is likely greater there. They always did have the resources.” She smiled bitterly. The history of what truly happened fifteen hundred years ago on this blessed isle has long been distorted, sometimes by simple misd the acts of writers and historians, other times deliberately, by those who have no wish for any divinity to be praised but their own sterile, abominable, solitary being.

  “Surely the strength of our will should keep them out?” a third man, this one a few years older than her, decred, his arm muscles bulging as he hefted a mace almost as tall as Gwenhwyfar herself. “This sacred site is powerful, surely the lingering Fae will allow no trespass?” The expression on his face was angry at the intrusion.

  “The Fae will do what they , but we are long separated from the greater Court, and the proud Llyn porth cleddyf. The ones who remain here are not powerful.” She warned. “And while the wards of this Territory turn aside roamis or passing sgers, against a determined oppo, they will surely fail. By our Lady Nimu?, this is a bitter day. Why did it have to happen in my lifetime?”

  “Well, we live long, don’t we?” her father chuckled. “Though to be fair, you are still a young fawn at ye.”

  “Fttery will get you nowhere with me, father.” She sniffed. “Well, there is no point making a se. They know we are here, and they know we know they are here.” Gwenhwyfar raised her hand, and a brilliant py of rainbow light spread from her palm. The still ke respohe refle of the silver skies above fading, repced by stilting prismatic light, and for a moment the waters parted, revealing a series of beautiful bd sapphire spire-like trees beh the surface, the leaves a brilliant azure blue, before the waters covered them again, leaving no trace of their presence.

  It is too much for them to overlook… no, the one who leads, I feel her power. It is sharp, cold and unyielding. There is something else though, another, weaker, yet… somewhat familiar.

  “Well then. We may as well at least look like we are in trol.” She procimed, sitting on her chair again, legs crossed, cloak ed around her. Reag out she retrieved her cup of tea, taking a sip, only for her face to crease unhappily as it was now lukewarm. Pg it down again with a sigh, she watched as the tall trees, ferns and grasses that surrouhe tranquil glen parted, and their guests arrived.

  “I give you my greetings, in the name of the Orue and Only God.” The lead figure smiled, her appearance a distorted mirror of Gwenhwyfar own. Well, the eyes are different, and not just the colour…

  The gleaming green eyes of the visitor were sure of themselves, showing no doubt, unlike Gwenhwyfar, who feared her decision to remain was the wrong one. No, I know that they will have found this pce ba the mortal world as well, otherwise they surely would not have risked a frontation… Behind the young woman, earing priestly vestments of white and gold, numerous tinkling bells ad them ringing sweetly as she moved, her long blonde hair ed around her like a cloak, came a score of men and women, wearing armoured robes and carrying bare steel, their swords bright and sharp. Amongst the group was someorahough, someone who did not seem to fit.

  Wait, is that… no, that shouldn’t be… dumbfounded, Gwenhwyfar missed her ce to return the greeting, leaving the woman to speak, her gaze hardening.

  “Well, are you not going to offer yuests hospitality? Or even a few weling words? You heathens, so rude.” She sniffed. “We have e a long way, so at least offer me a chair to take the weight off my weary legs. I am a Cardinal, not a soldier. I’m delicate.”

  Behind her one of her retives snorted wryly at that, and she raised a hand to be them to sile is probably too te to worry about bad impressions, it robably too te the day I was born into this world. But there is no advao stoking their ire… “My apologies. I ’t say I was expeg su… august… visitor. Father, fetch her a chair.”

  With a hard look, her father brought a chair forwards, and the woman sat down casually. Seeing that, Gwenhwyfar tightened her grip on her old sword, which she had pushed behind her with her leg, hoping to keep it out of sight.

  “Oh, I am hardly so important, just a humble woman doing the work of God.”

  “Humble, hardly.” Gwenhwyfar’s father said as he backed off, his body nguage defensive, ready to move at a moment’s notice. “I reise that ring. That’s the ring that old agdalena Stuart used to wear. It has some stupid Latin name. You’re British, right? At least use English. It’s too much to expect Cymric aelic.”

  “Father…” she hissed, a his provocations, but while most of the forces the newer had brought looked furious at the insult, the green-eyed woman merely tittered, as if she had heard something incredibly amusing.

  “Oh, so you knew my grandmother? How fasating. Well, she did like to keep an eye on… special… people. Hence how we found you. There are records of the locations we know of … what do you call them? Ah yes, Gdes of Avalon. How very … poetic. If rather bsphemous. Well, do allow me to introduce myself. I am Mary Stuart, and I have the honour of being Prophecy-Cardinal of the True Revetion. Oh, I suppose I am indeed an august visitor.” She grinned, pg a hand on her cheek, tilting her head cutely, though Gwenhwyfar was not fooled at all. This one is dangerous. Extremely so. She has the look of a fanatio, all of the True Revetion are fanatics. After all, even the secret societies of old, such as the Knight’s Tempr, were said to fear them. But her eyes shih a different insanity.

  “Bring her some tea.” She ordered, and her brother brought a cup over to Mary Stuart, handing it to her as if fronting a viper. One of her soldier-priests protested, stating it may be poisoned, but she merely ughed, taking a sip, seemingly uned by the prospect of danger.

  “I do not believe she would be so foolish as to poison a guest. After all, Laws of Hospitality are something these kind of people take very seriously. It’s one of their few admirable traits. Well, this is quite pleasing. I taste native berries and leaves. Quite the unusual beverage.” Taking another sip, she smiled, and it made Gwenhwyfar’s spich, as though spiders were crawling on her skin. “Well, back to the topic at hand, yes, pride es before the fall, and it is a sin. A deadly o that. Though I admit to taking pride in being chosen. Now, we are all very busy, so let me cut to the chase. I am here to ask you to renounce your heresies, and garhe good graces of the Lord. The way to the Ninth Heaven shall open, as is irue Book of Revetions, not the poorly transcribed and ed version the Bibles tain nowadays.”

  Really? That is what this Cardinal wanted? I admit to being rather surprised. After all, my bloodline is… irely human. She couldn’t stop her expression showing her shock, and Mary Stuart giggled softly.

  “You wonder why I would make su offer? Isn’t it obvious? You may have Fae blood within you, all of you…” she gestured to the family behind her. “… some of the few surviving, I fear. The turies have not been kind to those who are different. But just as a child has no choice but to be born, stinking with the reek inal Sin, when Eden was lost and the Ninth Heaven separated from this sinful world, your birth is hardly your fault, is it? God is merciful to those that wish to be saved.” She spread her arms. “After all, I was a heathee my grandmother being such a shining example of faith. I listened and pyed along, of course, as she tried to beat the faith into me, but it was not until I heard the voice of God, veyed by his servant, Metatron, that I believed, that the spark of faith, nay, the bonfire, was kindled within me!”

  I see. That’s why she is so troubling. She is no ordinary fanatic, but one who disbelieved, and then verted. verts always hold faith with more fervour than believers from birth. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her bde, as she tried to keep her nerves hidden.

  “So, I uand.” Mary said soothingly. “I too was a bad child, spitting in the face of God. Though I did not carry out such Godless rituals as this, nor did I accept the rgess of a clearly false Goddess.” She sniffed, unamused suddenly. “But is it not written that God weles back the Prodigal Son, with more joy than he who remai home all the time?”

  “So, what do you want?” Gwenhwyfar asked, unnerved. “For me to vert to Christianity? I have no issue with yod. After all, mahe Knights who sought the Grail, aided by the Fae…” as soon as she said that, she realised she had made a mistake, touched a nerve.

  Mary Stuart look a long breath, chest heaving, eyes shut. When she opehem once more, her emerald eyes were hard, angry.

  “For such creatures to seek a precious relic of God, only ay in Hell would be proper. No, mere version is far from enough. I know that some of your kind do believe in the Lord. But it is not enough to believe. You must… sacrifice.” Her smile was cold as ice, chilling Gwenhwyfar to the core.

  I believe this woman could fool the o thinking she is a gentle, kind sort. But her eyes give it away. There is no room for kindness within her. Only what she sees as her duty. “Sacrifice?” she asked warily, as her family tensed.

  “Oh, nothing so base or cruel as what Abraham was asked.” She smiled. “No, you must simply hand over the power of the false Goddess. The presence of such profane gifts is the worst, highest bsphemy. There shall be no worship of false idols, after all. I tolerate those who worship money, power, or even debauchery, so long as they serve the will of the only true God, much as it pains my pious heart. After all, the world has grown cold, religion holds lesser sway now. But one a I shall never allow to be forsaken is the ban on worship of other false Gods.”

  I see. Aeronwen, what should I do? Shall I forsake you? It is not merely our appearahat is mirrored, I see, but our paths as well. She had not believed in much of anything until retly, when a servant of the Goddess had visited the Gde of Avalon. Strahough I suppose there is o believe, when I know that Fae, spirits and more exist. After all, it’s in my blood, no matter how thinly.

  “It isn’t a hard choice. Some others have shown wisdom, and acceded to our requests. And I hardly offer this to just ahere are those who have long practised bsphemous arts, spitting on the will of God and the Ninth Heaven alike, who will be offered nothing but their just, well-deserved death. Fortunately such sinners are rare, here in the West. After all, what have the false deities done for you and your kind? Very little, it seems. Though I fess, this pce is niature.” She let out a gentle sigh. “Perhaps we could build a vent here. So few girls take up paths of true faith nowadays, and … well, this try does have quite the straate Religioer Christianity than not, I suppose, but then, the wrong path on the right road be more damaging than open falsehood. Well, no matter, that iron is in the fire, and the wound will be cauterised soon enough. So, have you decided?”

  What in Avalon’s name is she going on about? Irons? Cauterisation? Well, I am sure none of it bodes well for us. Now, if I did betray the promise I made to Aeronwen, which would likely go ill for me, as breaking Geas, a pledge made spirit to spirit, is not something to do lightly, would we even be? After all, didn’t she say she wished to build a vent on the mortal site of the Gde? “Such a decision is not a light oo be made hastily. Decide in haste, repent in leisure, after all. May I have time to sider…?”

  “Time, she says.” Mary turo the out-of-pce figure, who wasn’t wearing religious garments, merely a long, hooded cloak, c their body. There was something rge and bulky beh, ing the cloth, some sort of round object perhaps. “I already offered time to those I could, rgely thanks to you. Do you think are time for every sio repent? After all, woe es, and it will be the children who suffer most of all. Oh, will nobody think of the little mbs, as the fields burn?”

  “You’re insane!” one of Gwenhwyfar’s guards spoke up, voice full of pt. “You don’t care about the children, only…” he suddenly stopped speaking, as power radiated from her, deep and mystical.

  “Choose your words carefully. None cares more about the wellbeing of the flock than I!” she began to stroke the ring on her finger. “But I am the Prophecy-Cardinal. It falls to me to speak of the future. You are a small cog. Uhe greater cogs, your loss will hardly be felt. The power you hold, it should not be touched. Let those of us able to dispose of it safely take it. And in exge, you will be weled into the true faith. Even without such profane gifts, your blood allows you to ehis shallow sea that separates the Heavens and the Earth. Such talents are useful, and are doubtless why God allowed you to be born, such… hybrids.”

  Gwenhwyfar shifted at the insulting word and tohis is growing ever harder to bear. So, I ot buy time. Though even if I could, we would lose this Gde. And so few remain…

  “After all, it takes years of training for our priests and warriors to learn how to ehis realm. Though I suspeow that the density of God’s favour is increasing once more, that time may be shortened signifitly. Even so, I…”

  “Go screw yourself, madwoman!” Gwenhwyfar’s cousin decred, hefting his mace. “Looking down on us, calling us hybrids.” Both sides tensed, reag for ons. Only Mary looked on, amused, as her cousin tinued. “Well, I’m proud to be desded from the guardians of …”

  “Will you be silent.” Gwenhwyfar decred, furious. I wao avoid trouble, though I suppose it was likely beyond us from the moment we were found. “My apologies.” She o Mary. “It seems my cousin has grown a little angry at some of your… more unwise choices of words.”

  “I see. Well, aren’t you a polite one?” Mary’s smile broadened. “Well, I accept your apology.”

  “In that case, why not walk away? Give us time to decide. I know you said we had little remaining, but surely a day be spared, no? You may be strong and outnumber us, but here within the glen, my Territory, I doubt it would be worth your time or the cost it would entail to try and force our pliance.” Her hand was sweating, the hilt of the old sword terribly cold on her skin.

  “Oh, you think so?” Mary leaned ba her chair. “Well… perhaps a… demonstration… is in order. I sense a lot of non-humans hiding irees. I have no need of them. Those of you who have human blood, well, there’s still hope you reach salvation. But those who were not created by God…”

  Wait, she wouldn’t? “Hold, there is no need for…” her words fell from her lips, leaving stunned silence behind as the air ed behind Mary Stuart, and something dreadful began to form, shadows and light ing together in impossible shapes.

  “e forth, Principality, and show the sinful the sing light of the Lord!” she intoned in a singsong voice. Immediately Gwenhwyfar’s kin sprang into a, rushing forwards as a great breeze sprang up, rustling the trees and grasses, the ke waters blown aside, revealing the precious structures that kept the Gde funing. Priest-Soldiers responded, and soon there were screams and shouts, the g of metal oal, cries of agony, spshes of blood, silver and red, all defiling the tranquillity of the sacred gde.

  Gwenhwyfar watched as the gleaming golden light started to form a figure. It was vaguely humanoid, although the limbs seemed to have too many joints, and it had great, expansive wings. It was hard to make out due to the golden glow, yet she was sure she could see a multitude of eyes ihey should not be, unblinking ailian. Her head ached aomach was screaming, bile rising.

  An angel? Here? Impossible. There’s no way that the thin spiritual power support a being from such a higher realm. Even so… her instincts were telli was something terrible, and as her father staggered, blood p from a deep wound in his side, she made up her mind.

  I must end this, even if it costs me… Aeronwen, I need your strength. Avalon, answer my call… The Territory, the sacred spot, that was deeper in the shadows of the lower astral than most pces, answered her fervent prayer, and brilliant silver and rainbow ether flooded her.

  “Oh? Trying to resist?” Mary raised one blonde eyebrow, her green eyes sparkling. “Well, before the servants of God, I fear your efforts will be… huh?”

  “See this?” Gwenhwyfar brandished the rusty sword, an old, ordinary on, wielded by a nameless soldier fifteen hundred years ago. “It may not be a noble bde, but when one is a true Merched y Llyn, any sword shine!”

  “No, you are one of the bloodline of that…” Mary began, and it was gratifying to see the look of fear on her face for the first time as power coursed through Gwenhwyfar, the blessing of Aeronwen bining with her bloodline and the power the Gde provided. The angel, if that is what it was, was starting to appear more corporeal, and the glow illumihe skirmishing melee, her kin fighting the priests, only her, Mary and the cloaked figure unmoving. Though not for long.

  “Sword that defends the Isle, Granted by the Arglwyddes y Llyn, Nimu?, one of the greatest of the Fae, to defend against injustid evil, I call upon thee by my blood and power. Lehy edge, to cut that which threatens this nd, the Fae and those they protect! Cleave hard, Caledfwlch!

  The rusted, old sword suddenly shone brilliantly, rust falling away to reveal a bde of uhly metal. Glowing with power, the air around it seemed to , silver to rival the golden glow of the Principality. With a single swing of the sword, the gold was sliced, light p towards the stri Mary Stuart. Die! If I take you down here, then perhaps this pce be made secret again... There was a loud explosion, and Gwenhwyfar cried out as the force pushed her back. Fragments of bck cloth were drifting on the breeze, and as she rubbed at her blinking, tear-filled eyes, the sword she once held now crumbling away to dust, she stumbled over the body of one of the priests, torn apart by the invocation of Caledfwich.

  That must have killed her. Surely she couldnt have...

  “And the Lord spake unto Moses.” Something oken, and blood gushed from Gwenhwyfar’s ears. It was as if her very soul was on fire. She staggered, and stumbled again, this time over the body of one of her retives, who was lying still and unmoving. Dead, no, it ’t be...

  Suddenly a heavy impact rocked her, and she caught a glimpse of red before spshing down in the shallows of the ke, vomiting red of her own, her ribs shattered. As she looked up, she could barely see that the priests were c their ears, and her family was lying motionless, dead or unsious.

  “Good job.” Mary Stuart strode forwards, patting the shoulder of someone who had struck her. My eyes, they are messed up... my ears too, nothing works... she coughed, spitting fragments of brokeh, her eyes full of sparks like the worst migraine imaginable, her ears hissing static. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “Kneel.” Mary decred, and blood sprayed from Gwenhwyfar’s eye sockets, ears and he ke was dyed scarlet, as her very skin began to weep blood.

  “Well, I guess once mood fortune saves me.” Gwenhwyfar couldn’t see it, but Mary was ughing wildly, her fad clothes soiled with blood, most of it Gwenhwyfar’s, some of it her own, as her own nose was bleeding, blood trig from her mouth, giving her a ghoulish cast. “Well, that and your defene. The Lord will remember this. As will I.” She rubbed at the ring she wore, the golden knotwork of the band shining, the bells of her robes tinkling as she moved. “Having you protect your ears this whole time was a good choice.” She coughed, spitting blood. “The Gifts of the Lord are quite profound but should not be used carelessly. Oh Metatron, how great you must be to bear this without pain.”

  I have to do something. I have to… Gwenhwyfar struggled to rise, only for Mary to loom above her, a shape in shadow, as her eyes could barely focus. Even so, the deep green of Mary’s eyes was clearly visible, looking down on her.

  “Well, I offered charity, and all it would cost you is willingly surrendering your bsphemous gift, given by a false idol. Well, I suppose blood will tell. A child may be born sinful, but if they repent, they be sed. But you, my half-breed sinner, have soaked yourself in it withard for your immortal soul. Hmm, that’s an iing question. Do such hybrids even have a soul? Or is it just half a one? Curious. I wonder if Cardinal Lorenzo knows? No, if anyone would know, it would be Judgement-Cardinal Luca. Though I shall not be asking him, he rather seems to despise me… oh well… should you find yourself in Hell, tell the Devil I’ll be sending more his way soon… ah, yes, there it is. Uhe ke. Ingenious really. Sinners are so ing. Well, best get to it…” there was a fsh of light, something shattered, and Gwenhwyfar screamed, before her sciousness faded, the st thing she felt the sensation of sinking into a dark abyss, the pressure cold and soothing, washing away the fiery pain throughout her body…

  ShipTeaser