The Bardic Academy (A Bard Without a Star, Book 3) (6 page)

She rode a
silvery horse at a slow pace, and her black hair fell almost to the ground.
Her gown was a nondescript brown, but flowed with such grace that it put to
shame the colorful dress of the Fairie. She was so beautiful that Fidgen felt
his heart flip, and when Manus leapt to his feet and began chasing her, he
grinned and jumped on his horse, knowing that he could beat the bard to her
side.

He passed
Manus easily, but could not catch up to the woman. She did not ride any
faster, but the ground between them stretched out forever, and he could not
close the gap, no matter how hard he spurred his horse. He heard panting, and
turned his head to see Manus running beside him, keeping up with the galloping
horse, but not able to pass. The incongruity of the situation made Fidgen
start, and he felt like he was waking up from a dream.

He could
think again, but still nothing made sense. His horse had dropped into a trot,
but Manus still did not pass him, and the woman rode on just ahead of them at
the same slow pace, no nearer or further than before. He realized that he was
caught as surely as Manus, and wondered if maybe both of them were really
sitting on the hilltop, unseeing and uncaring. In frustration, he called out, “Great
Lady! Please help us!”

She stopped
and turned her horse. Manus darted ahead and reached her first. The woman
leaned over and spoke quietly to him, and the bard looked at Fidgen and
nodded. Then she kissed him on his forehead and he disappeared.

Fidgen
reached her a moment later. “My lady,” he said, inclining his head.

“Well met,
Gwydion ap Don, now known as Fidgen.” Her voice was as beautiful as the rest
of her, and Fidgen suddenly wanted to hear her sing.

“You know
my name,” he said instead, “but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”

“I am Epona
of the Horses,” she answered.

He
dismounted and bowed low. The stories of Epona were rare, but she was known as
a goddess nearly as powerful as the Three Queens. “I am truly honored.”

“Thank you,”
she said will a small smile. “But I did not seek you out to hear your praise.”

“You sought
me?” Fidgen said.

“I did,”
she said. “Did you know that the Pooka is under my protection?”

Fidgen
swallowed hard. “I did not.”

“He is still
being chased by the Wild Hunt, and probably will be for some time.”

Fidgen
bowed low again. “I meant no offense to you, Great Lady.”

She
laughed. “Oh, I know that,” she said. “And truth be told, the Pooka needs to
be chastised more often than I like. He has earned his current condition, I
think.”

“Then why
did you want to meet me?” Fidgen said.

She did not
answer, but dismounted, standing right in front of Fidgen. He had to look up
at her, and he could feel her power like heat radiating from a fire. “I have
sought you in order to give you a gift.” She held out her horse’s bridle. “This
is an epon, a Faerie horse, who can travel between worlds, and speak mind to
mind with the one she is bonded with.”

Fidgen
looked at the horse, who stared back with an intelligence that matched the
Pooka’s easily. “It is an incredible honor,” he said. “But I must decline.”

The epon
cocked her head, and Epona said, “It is not an offer I will make again.”

“It is not
an offer I refuse lightly,” Fidgen said. “Your gift is more than generous, but
part of the bardic code is that we own nothing.”

“The bond
between an epon and its rider is not ownership,” Epona said.

“Yes, but
among humans, it would be seen that way.”

“But you
have a horse right now,” Epona said.

“And I will,
and have, abandoned horses as my need dictates,” Fidgen said. “No, my Lady, I
cannot accept.”

She said, “You
are a brave man to refuse me.”

“I think
that I will be feeling very foolish about it myself,” Fidgen said.

“Then why
do it?”

Fidgen
reached up and stroked the epon’s nose. “I am trying to live the bardic code.
It's hard, and I worry enough that I cannot meet the standards. I have much
still to learn.” He looked into the epon’s eyes. “You would be a good friend,
and I could certainly use one. But if I cannot be one in return, how
heartbroken would we both be?”

The epon
nodded, and then nuzzled him. Epona watched the exchange without expression or
comment. She wrapped the bridle around her hand, and the epon backed up a
step. “I was not trying to tempt you, or distract you from your studies,” she
said. “It was, however, a test. I expected you to bond with the epon, and as
Queen of the Horses, it would give me insight into your soul, and allow me to
judge you better for myself.”

Fidgen said,
“I’m sorry that I am not the man you hoped for.”

“I’m not,”
she said with a smile. “You are more than expected, not less.”

“How can
that be?” Fidgen said.

She put her
arm around the epon’s neck. “This is not just a horse to me, nor even just a
magical horse. This is my child, my hope for the future. The bond that the
epon makes with its rider is like marriage, and like marriage, it works best if
there is respect on both sides. You did not explain to me why you would not be
her rider, you explained it to her. You treated her as an equal, not as a dumb
beast.”

“Don’t give
me too much credit,” Fidgen said. “It’s just that I have shape shifted to too
many forms to ever assume that any creature is truly dumb.”

“Not every shape
shifter learns that lesson,” Epona said. “Look at how superior the Pooka
fancies his native shape.”

“My lady is
very kind,” Fidgen said.

She
snorted. “Honesty is not kindness, even when it feels good.” She mounted the
epon and said, “I would advise you to head southeast, towards the coast. There
are others who would like to meet you.”

“Why me?”
Fidgen said with some apprehension.

“Because
you move through the land like a storm, and nobody knows if you will be healing
rain or destructive gale.”

“Which do
you think?” he asked.

“I think
that like most storms, you will bless some and destroy some.” She reached down
and stroked his cheek. “Be well, Fidgen. Perhaps we will meet again.”

He took her
hand and kissed it. “I look forward to it.” He then kissed the epon’s nose. “It
was a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The epon
pushed her nose into his chest, and Fidgen clearly heard, “I enjoyed it also.”

Epona
clucked her tongue at them both. She pulled the epon’s head around, and they
faded from view. Fidgen found himself back on top of the hill, and he let out
a deep sigh.

“She’s
something else, isn’t she?”

Fidgen
turned, and found Manus watching him. “Truly.” The bard looked cleaner and
heartier than he had before. “How long have I been gone?”

“I have
been up here every day for a week to check on you,” Manus said. “Epona told me
that you would be coming back, just not when. I was also able to reassure the
people of the dun, who are familiar with Epona, but seem uncomfortable with the
fact that she visited so close by.”

Fidgen’s stomach
rumbled loudly. “You didn’t bring food, did you?”

Manus
grinned and held out a loaf of bread. Fidgen took it and began devouring it.
Manus said, “I felt the same way after I came out of my enchantment. Thanks
for your help with that, by the way.”

“Glad I
could do it,” Fidgen said around a mouthful of bread. He swallowed and said, “Could
we go back to the dun? I suddenly want the company of regular people and a
nice warm fire.”

Manus shook
his head. “I’m not sure that would be wise. Stories of you are already
trickling into the area, and the people are wary of someone who both the Pooka
and Epona have personally interacted with.”

“So the
horse in the hill...”

“...is as
much to shield the people as it is to honor Epona,” Manus said. “And this is
horse country. Every stable gives offerings to the Queen of Horses.”

“They just
don’t want to meet her,” Fidgen said. He grimaced. “Or anyone who has.”

Manus
nodded. “I suggest you head more to the coast,” he said. “The people there
are more tolerant of someone with your experience.”

Fidgen
said, “That’s fine. Epona said that I should head to the southeast.”

“Sure,
that’s a good direction,” Manus said, looking suddenly uneasy. “If you’ve got
your bearings, then, I’ll be off.”

“My horse?”
Fidgen said. “And supplies?”

Manus
gestured to a path that led away from the dun. “There’s a copse down there
where I have set up camp. You’ll find everything there, including food for
your journey.”

“Thank you,”
Fidgen said.

Manus
looked him in the eye and said, “Thank you. I would have wasted away if you
hadn’t come along.”

“I don’t
think Epona would have let that happen.”

“Maybe,
maybe not,” Manus said. “Any road, luck to you, and may your further
adventures be less intense than this one.” He turned and almost ran down the
path to the dun. Fidgen shook his head, and still chewing on the loaf Manus
had given him, went the opposite direction to find his camp.

Fidgen began heading
southeast to the coast, but unlike in Duvnecht, he only stopped in larger
caers, where his presence was both accepted and unremarkable. It was a new
type of anonymity for him, but he found that he preferred the time between
caers, when the solitude of the open road was his surest companion.

The land
began to change again as he got closer to the water, with large limestone
outcroppings replacing the smooth green hills. It was not exactly mountainous,
but the road wound through valleys that were faced with tall white cliffs that
reflected sound strangely. It didn’t feel malevolent, just different; Fidgen
played his harp as he rode, feeling how the land shaped the music, and forced
him to find new patterns for familiar tasks like making his voice louder.

He came out
of one such valley to find himself looking down on plain that sloped down to
the glittering sea. The day was exceptionally clear, and he could count a
dozen duns and several caers, with the largest sprawling at the mouth of the
river he rode next to. It looked to be several leagues away, too far to make before
sundown, but he figured he could make it there by the next day. He still
didn’t know what he was supposed to find.

It found
him instead, coming towards him at dusk: a long, low ship that rowed its way
through the land as though it was water. Fidgen couldn’t see any rowers, but a
tall man stood at the bow, watching him as the ship approached. A gold torc
circled his neck, and a silver fillet held his long dark hair back. His
clothes were shades of green and blue, and his cloak had the iridescence of mother
of pearl. Fidgen bowed low in the saddle, which caused the man to start. He
ran towards the stern as the ship passed by, and leaned hard on the tiller,
bringing the ship around and to a stop, bobbing in the grass like it was
sitting on a placid lake.

The man
called out, “I’m not mistaken then; you do see me, right?”

“Yes, I see
you,” Fidgen said. “You’re rather hard to miss in your boat that sails the
land.”

The man
grinned. “You’d be surprised. I’ve been cruising this plain for some time
now, and you’re the first that has noticed.”

“How is
that possible?” Fidgen asked. “Your ship is huge, and you yourself are not
exactly inconspicuous.”

“Mortals
have a remarkable capacity for ignoring what doesn’t fit their expectations,”
he said.

“You’re not
mortal?” Fidgen said.

“Mannanan
MacLir, God of the Sea,” the man said with a sweeping bow. “A grandiose title,
but it’s what I am, so it’s what I’m stuck with. And you are...?”

“Forgive my
poor manners,” he said with a bow. “I am Fidgen, a student bard.”

“Fidgen
fits you at the moment, I suppose,” Mannanan said. “But other names will come,
I am sure. And your old one will return as well, Gwydion ap Don.”

Fidgen
scowled. “What’s the use of hiding your name when everyone seems to know it?”

Mannanan
laughed. “There are names, and there are names,” he said. “Ogmah gave you a
mask, not a new face. That will come later. Or is it your true face he
gives? I’ve never been quite sure how that works.” He lifted a gangplank into
position, and lowered it right at Fidgen’s feet. “Would you care to come
aboard?”

“Do I have
a choice?”

Mannanan
looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could just follow you around for a few days.”

“I’ll come
aboard,” Fidgen said quickly, dismounting. “Is there room for my horse?”

“Plenty,”
Mannanan said. “Just lead him up here, and we’ll get everyone settled.”

Fidgen was
a bit worried that the plank was too narrow, but as soon as he set foot on it,
it seemed to widen two or three times, and was so solid that his horse did not
even flinch on the way up.

Mannanan
helped him get settled, which was mostly making sure that his horse was hobbled
with a nosebag of grain in the middle of the broad deck. There were no seats
for rowers, and the oars barely protruded into the ship as it was. Going aft,
Fidgen saw the tiller with some benches along the rail around it. “It’s a bit
sparse for a god, isn’t it?”

“I like
simple things,” Mannanan said. “Would you like to give it a try?”

“What do I
do?”

“Sit, and
put your hand on the tiller,” Mannanan said. “Now, tell me what you see when
you look out beyond the gunwales.”

Fidgen
looked over the plain, but instead of grass, he saw gently rolling waves that
happened to be grass colored. When he looked at the limestone cliffs he had
just come from, he saw high frothy waves suspended in perpetual threat of
crashing down. “It’s not land anymore,” he said.

“It’s all
about perspective,” Mannanan said. “Anything is possible if you look at it in
the right way.”

Fidgen
said, “My, ah, teacher, said that I needed to change my perspective often.”

Mannanan
nodded. “Math was an arrogant ass, but he did know a thing or two about
magic. Turn towards the coast, and just tell the ship to go.”

Fidgen
pushed the tiller, and said, “Go.” The oars began rowing, a slow and steady
motion that pushed them through the grass with a hissing noise. “How much do
you know of me?” Fidgen said.

“A fair
amount,” Mannanan said. “Power attracts attention, and although you’ve never
spent much time around my demesne, everything comes to the ocean eventually. I
have been following stories of you for years. From your training, to your
blood feud with Kyrnin, to the destruction of your uncle’s tower, to all of the
things you have done in your training.”

“Did you
know Epona offered me an epon for a companion?” Fidgen said.

“Really?”
Mannanan sat cross legged on the deck and looked up at him. “I’m listening.”

“There’s
not much to tell beyond that,” Fidgen said.

“Some bard
you are.”

“I’m only a
student,” Fidgen said. “And besides, why should I tell you anything?”

“Because
I’m a god,” Mannanan said. “And it’s only polite.”

Fidgen
shook his head. “It’s not a compelling argument. As a bard, I could tell you
the story of Deidre of the Sorrows, or the Race of Macha, but there is nothing
that compels me to tell you the stories of my life. For that, we should trade:
tell me how you know my uncle, and I will tell you about meeting Epona.”

Mannanan
nodded. “That seems fair.” He leaned back against the side of the boat and
draped his arms on the rail. “Let’s see, it was about fifteen or twenty years
into his reign. I had heard plenty of stories about the cantref lord who
talked to the winds, and I determined to meet him. So I disguised myself as a
fool, as I sometimes do, and started walking from Afron to Caer Dathyl. I
could see the flags of the caer on the horizon when a raven landed in front of
me and eyeballed me. I didn’t even pause my steps, but the raven turned into
Math. ‘Where did you come from great lord?’ I said.

“‘Don’t
play dumb with me, Mannanan MacLir,’ he said. ‘For what purpose have you
entered my realm?’

“I
considered continuing to act the clown, but I decided to come clean.
‘Curiosity,’ I said. ‘I wanted to meet you and see what type of man and leader
you are.’

“‘Here I am,’
he said. ‘What more do you need?’

“‘Well’, I
said, ‘it would be nice to see how you interact with your people.’

“‘I don’t
think so,’ Math said. ‘You have a habit of humiliating leaders in front of
their people, and I will not have that.’

“‘And how
can you stop me?’ I said with a laugh.

“‘By
commanding you as lord of my land to depart to your own realm,” he said.

“Well, that
set me back. It is not well known that I have little power on land except what
is allowed me. Most mortals assume that they cannot stand against a god, and
do not try, but mortals are connected to the land, and I am not. So they can
command me, and Math knew it. ‘May I ask how you learned this?’ I asked him.

“‘The wise
man listens when others speak,’ he said, which is the exact advice I once gave
Taliesin. So I bowed to him and left.” Mannanan scratched his ear. “I never
have visited Caer Dathyl, and now I hear that there is a new lord, one that
will establish himself at Caer Don, and leave the tower fallen.”

“Bran,”
Fidgen said.

“What do
you think?” Mannanan asked. “How would he handle a visit from myself?”

“Hard to
say,” Fidgen said with a shrug. “He keeps his own counsel, that one.”

“Interesting,”
Mannanan said. “Perhaps I’ll visit Gwynedd again after this. Now, you were going
to tell me how you met Epona, and what she offered you.”

Looking out
over the waves of grass, Fidgen told his story, using all the techniques he had
learned in Duvnecht, but being careful not to stray from the truth in any way.
When he finished, Mannanan looked thoughtful. “Epona is one of those people
who is awfully hard to impress,” he said. “It sounds like you were able to,
and that means you have another powerful ally.”

“Ally for
what?” Fidgen said. “I’m just trying to become a bard, and figure out how to
resolve my past. What does everyone see in my future?”

“Me?”
Mannanan said. “I see one of the most promising men in many generations, who
could be a great force for either good or ill.”

Fidgen
sighed. “I don’t want to do anything right now but earn the star.”

“And I’m
sure you will,” Mannanan said. “But there is the rest of your life after that,
you know.” He looked out over the plain. “We’re about to the coast. Tell the
boat to stop, or you’ll ground us in the surf.”

He looked,
and sure enough, he saw the sea ahead, but instead of waves lapping the beach,
he saw sand lapping waves that looked like turf. Two great white horses
harnessed to an ornate chariot munched the white caps contentedly. “Stop,”
Fidgen said. The oars dipped straight down, slowing them rapidly, and Mannanan
instructed him to turn the tiller so that they ended up parallel to the shore.
He lowered the gangplank over the side, and Fidgen led his horse off the
strange ship. As soon as he stood on land again, his sight shifted back to
seeing the land as solid and the ocean as moving, but the ship and the chariot
still sat on patches that defied the natural order.

Mannanan
stepped up next to him. “Confusing, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,”
Fidgen said. “But I imagine you get used to it.”

“You know,
I’ve had many mortals ride in my landship, but few could make it move,”
Mannanan said. “Amergin was the last, I think, but he had to work at it. You
just did it without even thinking about whether it was possible.”

“You seemed
to think I could,” Fidgen said. “So I did.”

“It was
actually supposed to be a test. Don’t worry; you passed it quite easily,” he
said with a wink.

“Is it my
imagination, or is it colder here?” Fidgen said.

“Ah, that.”
Mannanan rubbed the back of his head, and looked a bit sheepish. “I forgot to
mention that time sometimes shifts a bit when mortals spend time with gods.”

“How long
have we been gone in mortal time?”

Mannanan
sniffed the air. “About six months. It’s nearly midwinter.”

Fidgen
rubbed his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Yes,”
Mannanan said. “There is one other immortal you need to meet, and you should
go there directly. She is neither patient nor forgiving.”

“Who is
she?”

Mannanan
said, “Cailleach the hag.”

Fidgen
travelled south along the coast, moving away from the plain and into a rocky
area where the waves beat against the shore, kicking huge plumes of spray into
the sky. The air smelled of salt, and Fidgen was sticky with it. Mannanan had
told him to look for a hut between the sea and sky, and even though Fidgen had
no idea how such a thing could exist, he trusted that it could be found.

He thought
back through all the stories he knew as he rode, trying to remember anything he
could of the hag. She was never central to any tale, but appeared as a curse,
or a caution. She wound through the history of Glencairck like a tendril of
mist, touching and blurring the edges of things. He wasn’t sure why she wanted
to meet him, but he had resigned himself to his fate, especially when Mannanan
indicated that she would seek him if he didn’t find her first. He had
shuddered when he said it, and Fidgen didn’t want to know what would cause a
god to fear.

The light
began to fade, and he retreated a bit inland until he found a patch of green
grass for his horse to dine on. He ate little, looking out instead towards the
slate grey ocean, trying to absorb the small yellow flame from his fire. He
wrapped his blankets around himself and fell asleep.

He awoke to
find himself in a strange place, where all had become grey, and although he
could hear the pounding surf, he could not see the water. He looked around,
but his horse and his pack had disappeared, leaving only his harp, tucked
safely under his arm. He knew he should feel some fear, but he felt more
resigned than anything else. He got up, and began walking towards the sound of
the ocean.