his nose, left him dizzy and confused. The world shrunk, reduced to only the two of them. He lost his memory and identity; the will he owned vanished.
In a flickering moment none of it mattered. Calm patience in the other replaced the fiery madness Bran thought he had seen, the peace he found in the burning eyes stretching millennia and would continue to do so.
He grew flushed as he did when riding with a redhead he couldn’t remember. To join the centaur and creatures at its feet meant a lifetime of terrible desires fulfilled in the shadows, fear lost forever. He had to but join the Erlking and become one with darkness.
Something screamed in his ear but he did not care.
He was about to step into the clearing when his right hand began to burn, warm at first but growing in intensity until it engulfed his entire arm in a conflagration.
Looking down, a fairy ring about his finger shone with argent light, blinding in its pure radiance.
Memories returned at once.
Bran stopped but did not retreat, his courage bolstered.
—A fairy ring. Clever. There is no reason to fear me as the stink of the bodach is on you. You are already dead. The bodach will slay you before the Dark Thorn reenters the world—
Cernunnos laughed darkly then.
“It failed earlier tonight,” Bran uttered willfully. “It will fail again. Next time, it will not be so lucky.” Not knowing why, Bran raised the fist bearing the Paladr.
The crimson eyes of Cernunnos dimmed; the animals below him mewed lowly.
—The Seelie Court, my long lost brethren, is broken. You will join them—
With a dark look at the hand holding the Paladr and before Bran could gather courage enough to reply, Cernunnos shimmered and vanished. The beasts at his hooves lost their feral, manic appearance and faded from view in all directions. The sense of poisonous foreboding disappeared and true night resumed in the forest.
“What were you doing?” Snedeker chastised angrily.
“Where did he go?”
“Away, thank the Lady!”
“That was the Erlking of the Unseelie Court?” Bran asked.
“The Shadow King, yes,” the fairy answered. “Safe we are. Those of the Unseelie Court lie in the space between sunlight and darkness. Rarely are the shadow seen. They hate humans, more than anything. Except perhaps my kind.” Snedeker shivered again.
Following the jumping pull of the Paladr and trying to calm his racing heart, Bran turned from the meadow and continued along the narrow trail through the trees, wary of even the stars peaking at him through holes in the forest canopy. Nothing was ever what it seemed in Annwn. The Erlking of the Unseelie Court knew of the confrontation with the bodach and, like the beast, wanted Bran dead.
One aspect of meeting Cernunnos remained fresh in his mind though.
The Erlking of the Unseelie Court had been afraid.
Afraid of the Paladr.
The trail steepened. Soon a brook bubbled along his right, the water a slow moving black ribbon. Mist not born of the Nharth twisted like vapor snakes, reaching for Bran while the air grew chillier. Above, the half disc of the silver moon highlighted the craggy white extremes of the Snowdon and pooled thick shadows around Bran. With every step he took, the sound of water falling against obstinate rock became clearer.
After what seemed like hours, Bran and Snedeker broke through the thick wood into an expansive opening beneath the stars, a carpet of thick grass spreading toward exposed rounded rock. The waterfall he had heard tumbled from a cliff face a short distance away to shake under his feet, the water a pane of glass before bouncing into the eddying pools of the brook. Copious ferns and moss grew along the rocky bank while fog stirred sluggishly above the water, the old trees surrounding the glen extending their limbs out over it as if to ward away the darkness. The waterfall captured the moonlight, diamonds twinkling and given the ability to fly.
Nothing else moved. All was serene, a magic suspended over the land, infusing Bran with every breath he took.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
Snedeker said nothing, mesmerized and hovering at his shoulder.
“What’s wrong with you?”
With one shaking, leafy arm, Snedeker pointed at the falls.
The silver shimmer on the falling water detached and floated forward, the reflection of moonlight given substance and freedom. The lights floated near the water like large fireflies, hovering as if waiting on the two visitors.
“Lightbrands,” Snedeker murmured in awe. “What are they?”
“The fairy servants of the Lady,” Snedeker whispered.