have vowed to rid Albion of the plague that even now wreaks such havoc on this fairest of islands.”
The wretched hag put her face close to Bran’s—so close that Bran could smell the stink she gave off and had to pinch his nostrils shut. She squinted her eyes with the intensity of her scrutiny. “Is that what you are about?” she asked at last.
“I am,” replied Bran. “If you can help me, I will be in your debt. If not, only tell me someone who can, and I will trouble you no more.”
“You ask my help,” said the ancient woman, “and though you may not know it, you could not have asked a better creature under heaven, for help you shall receive—though it comes at a cost.”
“It is ever the way of things,” sighed Bran. “What is the price?”
“I will tell you how to break the wicked enchantment that binds Albion—and I hope you succeed, for unless you do, Albion is lost and will soon be a wasteland.”
“And the price?” asked Bran, feeling the restlessness beginning to mount like a sneeze inside him.
“The price is this: that on the day Albion is released, you will take the place of the man the giants have killed.”
“That is no burden to me,” remarked Bran with relief. “I thought it would be more.”
“There are some who think the cost too great.” She shrugged her skinny shoulders, and Bran could almost hear them creak. “Nevertheless, that is the price. Do you agree?”
“I do,” said Bran the Blesséd. “In truth, I would pay whatever you asked to break the curse and win my heart’s desire.”
“Done! Done!” crowed the old woman in triumph.
“Then listen well, and do exactly as I say.”
Laying her bony fingers on Bran’s strong arm, the hag led him from the mound and into the ruined forest. They passed through death and devastation that would have made the very stones weep, and walked on until they came to a high hill that was topped by a magnificent white fortress. At the base of the hill flowed a river; once sparkling and clear, it now ran ruddy brown with the blood of the slaughtered.
Pointing to the fortress, the hag said, “Up there you will find the tribe of giants who have enthralled this fair island and whose presence is a very plague. Kill them all and the spell will be broken, and your triumph will be assured.”
“If that is all,” replied Bran grandly, “why did you not tell me sooner? It is as good as done.” He made to start off at once.
The ancient crone prevented him, saying, “Wait!
There is more. You should know also that the giants have slain the Lord of the Forest and taken possession of his cauldron, called the Cauldron of Rebirth on account of its miraculous virtue: that whatever living creature, man or animal it matters not, though he were dead and dismembered, mutilated, torn into a thousand pieces, and those pieces eaten, if any part of the corpse is put into the cauldron when it is on the boil, life will return, and the creature will emerge hale and whole once more.”
Amazed, Bran exclaimed, “Truly, that is a wonder!
Rest assured that I will stop at nothing to reclaim this remarkable vessel.”
“Do so,” promised the hag, “and your deepest desire will be granted.”
Off he went, crossing the river of blood and ascending the high hill. As Bran drew closer, he saw that the white fortress was not, as he had assumed, built of choice marble, but of the skulls and bones of murdered beasts and humans, used like so much rubble to erect the high white walls, turrets, and towers. A sickening smell rose from the bones, which, though it made him gag, also raised Bran’s fury against the giants.
Boldly he approached the gate, and boldly entered.
There was neither guard nor porter to prevent him, so he strode across the courtyard and entered the hall.
However much the courtyard stank, the odour inside the hall was that much worse.
From the hall, he could hear the sound of a great roister. He crept to the massive door, peered inside, and instantly wished he had not. He saw seven giants, the least of which was three times the height of any human man, and the greatest amongst them was three times the height of the smallest. Each giant was a gruesomely ugly brute with pale, blotchy skin; shaggy, long hair that hung down his broad back in nasty, tangled hanks; and a