REVELATIONS

Angus MacDuff watched the door with anticipation….and dread. The moors had become a haven for the living dead of late, and only the alert could withstand them. He sat on a stool; his sword balanced on his knees, and occasionally took a drink from a jug of water. He waited, hoping that he would be spared.

Presently, he heard a noise. He swallowed, and took up his blade. He began to stand up, when suddenly a brilliant light began pouring through the gaps of the doorjamb. Angus backed away, terrified, wondering what had wandered into his yard. The door began to shake and he heard a low howl come in. He took up a fighting pose and waited for death.

"In the name of the Goddess, be gone!"

A woman’s voice cut through the howl and abruptly, the light winked out. Relieved but confused, and walked to the door and opened it, curious as to what had happened.

He opened the door, and saw a woman of middle years looking around. She had long silver hair and wore a simple robe, and carried a staff. In front of her, next to Angus’ door, was a pile of dust. She saw him, and spoke again. "What in the name of the Gods is going on here?"

* * * * *

She was called Branwen. She proved to be forthright and bold, and it seemed far more used to the strange happenings that occurred than him. There was ruthlessness to her that Angus found unsettling. She calmly drank a cup of water while he explained to her what had been happening.

"Everything used to be peaceful here. There were rumors that the marsh was haunted, but up until the last five years or so, that’s all it’s been – rumors."

"Then, the chieftain had the druids expelled from the area, and then the ghosts came. It was little things at first – missing cattle, animals, and then people. Now, practically every night, they descend from the marshes and wreak havoc."

She put a hand over her mouth in thought. "That was a spectre outside your door. A spectre wouldn’t be part of a random collection of undead in an area. They’re created, usually either from something that went wrong or for a purpose. Are the marshes of any importance?"

He shook his head. "Not that I’m aware of. Nothing alive has made it their home in ages. The only advantage someone would have using the marshes for travel would be lots of water."

"You said the chieftain had the druids expelled?"

He nodded.

"He might be involved here."

Angus stared at her. "You’re not a druid, are you?"

She smiled, a look that made Angus nervous. "No. A druid wouldn’t venerate Cerridwen. And I do."

Branwen got up from the stool and handed the cup back to Angus. "Obviously, the Goddess sent me here for this reason. The dead are not to return to the land of the living like this. I’ll need to investigate this further." She picked up her staff, and turned towards the door. Where does the chieftain live?"

He pointed. "There’s a road on the other side of the village. He’s about a days walk on the road from here."

She smiled again, but still there was no warmth in it. "Thank you." With that, she left.

Angus took his mug and refilled it with beer. He’d need it tonight.

* * * * *

Branwen stopped walking, and looked around. There was nothing for miles. That was exactly what she wanted.

She took the bag from her belt, and reached in, pulling out a small pot. She placed it carefully on the ground and chanted over it. There was a ripple around it, and it began getting bigger. In a few minutes, it was almost half her size. She then called upon the goddess.

"Hear me, great one!" She intoned, "May the sacred fluid again fill this vessel of power." She placed her hands over the cauldron, and from them, water began to flow. It spilled into the cauldron. Water kept flowing from her until the cauldron was full. She then pulled out herbs and powders from her belt pouch, and sprinkled them in the water. She then took her staff, and began stirring. As she stirred, she hummed a tune, designed to relax her body. When she finished stirring she stared into the cauldron.

Images coalesced in the mix she had made. She saw people of all ages, their last expressions filled with terror, pain or confusion. She also saw what she took to be an amulet, made of onyx, carved with a fanciful skull design. An aura, similar to that created by powerful undead, radiated from it. Whatever it was that created the undead, this amulet was a major factor in it.

That gave her pause. Did the amulet work without direction, or was there some more malevolent purpose behind it? She shook herself out of the trance she had slipped into, emptied the cauldron, and shrank it back to a more manageable size and put it back into the bag. She definitely had to investigate this.

* * * * *

The chieftain of the lands lived in a village. There was a ramshackle collection of huts and buildings of various sizes grouped around a large stone building. From the activity around it and its size, Branwen guessed that the chieftain lived there.

She paused and thought about what she had learned. While she could probably easily go to the court and tell the chieftain of the situation and of the amulet and its effects, Angus had told her that the chieftain had banished the druids from the area, and she wondered just how seriously they would take the word of a priestess who was a stranger in the land.

If she were to simply set up shop nearby, it would probably take a great while to gain any sort of social footing, and besides, Cerridwen’s priestesses did not always receive the warmest of welcomes.

She decided to try something different. She checked herself over, making sure there was no evidence of her allegiances or power. She made herself look like a humble traveler, one that anyone might find on the road. She then walked up to the gatehouse.

A young, rangy man not more than thirty looked her over. At first, he went for his sword, for there was something about her that was unsettling. But, when he examined her more carefully, there was nothing to mark her as dangerous. "All right then," he asked, "What can I do fer ya?"

Branwen cast her eyes down. "I need work. Anything will do. My house was destroyed."

His eyes widened. "Ach, lass, I’m sorry." He looked around. "I don’t know what we need, though. If ya could." His remark was cut off by another man, older and better dressed, who came up to them. "Now, Padraig, where’s you’re sense of hospitality?" He remarked. "I’m Finn, miss." He extended his hand.

Branwen took it and smiled. "Branwen."

He pulled her in and started guiding her towards the doors of the building. "I’m sure we can find ya something, or at least a good meal for the night."

She smiled, trying to look relieved and innocent. "Thank you so much."

Finn led her into the building, which was filled with people. "So, what do ya do?"

Branwen frowned. "I can cook, and I kept my house clean for several years."

He shrugged. "I’ll take ya to Eloisa. She’ll find ya some work." He started going in the direction that Branwen guessed was the kitchen.

A stout, matronly woman of fifty or so was pouring a glaze over a haunch of meat on a spit that was turning over an open fire. She wiped her hand on her forehead and looked up, slightly surprised by Finn and Branwen’s arrival. She then smiled. "Now, Finn," she began, "you’ll get fed with everyone else."

Finn smiled back. "Greetings, Mistress Eloisa." He pulled Branwen closer. "This be Branwen. She needs work."

Eloisa looked over Branwen. "Really?" She put her hands on her hips. "And what do ya do miss? Aside from making Finn here smitten with ya?"

Branwen looked at the other woman. "I’m a pretty good cook." She looked at the haunch of meat. "I’d have brushed the glaze on, rather than pouring it. It will cover it better."

Eloisa’s eyebrows raised. Finn grinned. "All right then." She turned and called out. "Marie!"

A young woman of about twenty suddenly appeared. "Yes, mistress?"

She gestured to Branwen. "Marie, this is Branwen. She’ll be helping us in the kitchen. Let her take her things into your room for now and then after dinner we’ll get her settled." She turned to Branwen. "You can leave your things with Marie for now, and then get back." She pointed to a pile of vegetables on a table. "You can start by chopping those up."

Marie came over. She was pretty, with a young, fresh-faced appearance. She had curly brown hair and clear green eyes. Briefly, Branwen wondered why Marie was working in a kitchen. "Hello, Branwen." She said brightly. "Just follow me." She started out of the kitchen the way she had come in. Branwen picked up her bag and followed.

"Branwen!" Finn called out as she left.

She stopped and turned around.

He grinned. "I’ll see ya at dinner."

Eloisa shook her head and shooed Finn out of the kitchen.

Marie led her to a small room down a hall. She opened the door, and led Branwen in. She pointed to a corner. "You can put your things here." Branwen dropped her bag and leaned her staff against the wall. "Thanks for coming, by the way. Some of our people have just up and left, rather abruptly."

"Really?" She asked, turning around.

Marie grimaced. "You might even say they disappeared." With that, she left.

Branwen’s eyebrows raised. The key to this mystery might be closer than she originally thought.

Preparing dinner was a harried affair – Branwen, Marie, Eloisa and two other women worked hurriedly to prepare dinner for the chieftain, his cohort, and some of the villagers. Once they were done, two serving wenches, who had been filling tankards, helped and brought out the food with them.

The chieftain, who Marie told her was called Niall, was a tall, rugged man who looked a bit younger than Branwen would have guessed. His cohort, which included Finn, consisted of fifteen men who sat near. They clapped and whistled when they brought out the food, but after it was put down, were all business.

Marie took Branwen and sat her down in a corner. While not what she expected, the corner would give her ample opportunity to observe the court.

Dinner was a noisy affair, with the cohort trading stories and jokes during the meal. As surreptitiously as she could, Branwen pulled out a packet of herbs and dumped it into her cup of wine, and stirred it with her finger. She was about to drink it when some people began playing instruments.

Curious, she looked up. The cohort had dispersed into the crowd, and was taking some of the women in the crowd to the center of the room. Niall came by, bowed to Eloisa, and offered her his hand. She blushed, and took it. Another member came by and took Marie. Branwen raised her cup, but then Finn came by and bowed. "Would ya do me the honor, miss Branwen?"

She held back a curse and smiled. She let Finn stand her up and take her to the center of the room. The musicians struck a different note, and people began dancing.

Branwen watched Finn as they danced. She knew the human heart, and she surmised that Finn was genuinely attracted to her. She had to admit, having someone try that hard so soon was refreshing. She had had lovers before, but Finn……..Finn could be something much more.

When the dance was over, the cohort ambled away from the dining hall, some with company, and some without. Marie and Branwen went back into the kitchen. Eloisa was doing some cleaning. As they walked in, Eloisa raised her head and smiled. "Finn seems to be smitten, my dear."

Marie laughed quietly. Branwen found herself blushing. "Yes, well, men speak of love when it suits their purposes."

"I don’t recall him actually saying a lot."

Branwen shot Eloisa a look. Marie took Branwen’s arm and pulled her. "C’mon," she said, "Let’s get you settled in."

Marie showed Branwen to a room. It was small, but had a bed. "This should do."

Branwen eyed it. She had slept in worse places. She put her bag down near the bed and leaned her staff against the wall. "Thank you."

Marie smiled. "No problem."

Branwen looked at Marie. "Marie, if you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?"

Marie exhaled. "Well, I don’t have any place to go. I’m an orphan. Eloisa and Niall – the chieftain – took me in eight years ago."

Branwen put her hand to her chest. "Oh, dear, I’m sorry."

Marie sighed. "Its all right." She went to the door. "Get some sleep. We have a lot of work tomorrow." She went through and closed it behind her.

Branwen thought for a bit. The events tonight told her nothing. She would need time or more clues to solve this.

* * * * *

Niall looked around his room. Everything seemed in place, but he still felt uneasy. He pulled his amulet from under his tunic and stroked it a little with his hand. That made him feel a little better.

He was a little ashamed of what he had done with it, but its power was quite the ally. With it, he was still young and strong. He sat down on his bed. He was about to pull off his sandals when he felt the familiar fatigue. The amulet’s power was draining away.

So soon? He thought to himself. He sighed. It was getting costlier all the time. He thought quickly. There were no prisoners he could use. Perhaps the new girl – what did Eloisa call her, Branwen, would be available. He got to his feet and went to the door, opening it.

He looked around, and saw Marie carrying a tray. "Marie!" he called out softly.

Marie turned and saw him, and walked up, smiling. "Do you need something?"

Niall felt the drain intensify. It would have to be her, then. He gestured into his room. "I’ve got a couple of things you can take to the kitchen, if you would."

Marie cocked her head. "All right." She walked in.

Niall followed her, closing the door behind him. He pulled the amulet out from under his tunic.

Marie looked around, and put her hands on he hips. "I don’t see anything here." She turned around.

Niall reached forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I’m sorry, Marie." He said softly.

Marie was about to pull back, confused, but she felt suddenly very weak. She looked at Niall with confusion and fear. She could feel herself getting weaker.

The amulet Niall wore began glowing. Marie’s body and hair turned white, and she began to age quickly. In a matter of moments, Marie’s entire body was a shriveled wreck. She fixed Niall with a gaze of pleading, then shuddered and died.

Niall felt the power flow back into him, revitalizing him. He hated doing this, but he couldn’t stop. He carefully picked up Marie’s body, and walked out of his room.

* * * * *

The next day, when Branwen awoke, she was told that Marie was missing. She joined the people who were looking around the area for her. Branwen was in the marshes at the south end of the town with Finn, when she spied something. She gestured to Finn and they approached.

What they saw was a body. It looked human, but more like if the body had been incredibly old and then drained of all fluid. Finn drew back, his hand covering his mouth, but Branwen leaned closer, studying it. Though she was not as familiar with the townsfolk as most, she would swear that this was Marie. Before Finn noticed, she took a knife and cut some of the hair from the shriveled corpse. She then took Finn back to the town itself, to inform the guards and Eloisa.

There was a pall over the fort as the news spread of Marie’s death. While the people of the fort sat around, and dealt with the loss, Branwen went to her room. She pulled out her cauldron.

Not too much later, Eloisa came to Branwen’s room, and opened it. "I’m sorry, Branwen, but…." Her remark was cut off when she saw Branwen stirring her cauldron. "What in the name of…?" She exclaimed.

Branwen raised her head from the cauldron. "I suppose an explanation is in order. Shut the door."

Eloisa did as she was told. She then hesitantly came forward.

Branwen looked directly into Eloisa’s eyes. "I’m not just a simple housewife. I’m a priestess of Cerridwen." She glanced at the cauldron. "She of the cauldron…..and death."

"And what exactly are you doing here?" Eloisa replied.

"Not long ago, I came across a horde of undead, menacing a town. They were not ones that might be encountered by your typical unlucky traveler. They were created. A resident told me that this wasn’t uncommon, any more. He told me about the druids being banished by Niall, and my own investigation told me of an amulet, which was the chief source of the scourge now menacing the outlying towns."

"I also think Marie was the latest victim of the amulet. And its wearer."

Eloisa bit her lip. "How can I help?"

"Stare into the cauldron, concentrate, and think of Marie."

Eloisa came forward and looked into Branwen’s cauldron.

Branwen added the last herb to the brew, and put her hands over the pot. "Hear me, oh goddess!" She intoned, "We do not seek to reclaim that which you have taken, but knowledge is needed, knowledge that only one who has passed on to you can give us. Send back the one called Marie so that we may learn."

"Yes, please." Added Eloisa.

Colors swirled in the depths of Branwen’s cauldron. The brew began to bubble more vigorously. Then, it calmed and the colors swirled into a picture. They saw a hallway, and at one end, an opened door. The chieftain Niall peered out. "Marie" he called out.

They both heard the ghostly voice. "Is there something you need?" and the picture began closing in on Niall.

They watched as the scene from the night before played out, apparently from Marie’s point of view. When she died, the cauldron’s waters went dark.

Eloisa turned away from the cauldron, very upset. "How?"

Branwen’s lips thinned. "He had the amulet."

"What?"

"The amulet Niall was wearing is the one I told you about."

Eloisa looked at Branwen, the pain and anger apparent. "Do what you must. You will not be disturbed."

Branwen nodded.

* * * * *

Some time later, Niall sat in his room, going over some correspondence. There was a knock at the door. "Come in." He called out.

Branwen entered the room, carrying a tray. She came forward. "Dinner, your grace."

He smiled, and put the scroll to one side. She placed the tray in front of him. A platter of meat, a half-loaf of bread, and a large tankard of ale were on the tray. He looked at her. "How’s everyone doing?"

She gave a half-hearted smile. "They’re still a little shaken, but they’ll be all right. Eloisa is still pretty upset."

He picked up a slice of meat and began chewing. "Well," he said once he’d finished it, "I’ll talk to her later." He then downed some of the ale and bit off some of the bread.

"By the way, I believe I know what happened to Marie."

He raised his eyebrows and stared at her. "Really?"

She nodded. "Magic was used on her. A talisman drained away her life force. Your talisman." Before he could stop her, Branwen reached into his tunic and pulled out the talisman.

He stood up and faced her. "What do you think you can do?" He looked at her menacingly.

She crossed her arms. "I’ve already done what I planned."

Niall was going to question her, but suddenly, his stomach lurched. His throat and mouth seemed to curdle; he sputtered, gasped, and felt like he was suffocating. He collapsed on the desk, still gasping.

Branwen knelt over his dying form. "All the time that Gwion Bach fled the goddess for his sin, he knew she would eventually catch him. You can’t outrun death. Gwion Bach knew this." She paused. "And now, so do you."

She took hold of the amulet and pulled it from the dying man. It was over quickly. Niall shuddered and died. As he did, the power he had gained from the amulet left, and he withered away like his victims had. Branwen put the amulet in her belt pouch.

She was about to leave, when the door opened, and Finn came in. "Your grace, I think.." the rest of what he was going to say was cut off when he saw the scene. "What the?"

Branwen stood in front of him. "Finn, your chieftain was corrupted. He had gained possession of a magical talisman, which he used to kill people. He’s fallen victim to his own curse."

Finn stared hard at her. "How do I know you didn’t do this yourself?"

She remained impassive. "I have no reason to lie. And Eloisa knows the truth, as well."

Conflicting emotions played over his face. Finally, he lowered his head, and pointed to the door. "Get out! Get out and don’t come back!"

Branwen looked at him. Clearly, he was in pain. She thought about trying to comfort him, but she knew he would not want her now. With a bit of regret, she left.

As she left the room, she could hear Finn sobbing.

* * * * *

Some time later, having left the fort, she took out her cauldron again and brewed. When it was ready, she pulled the amulet and held it over the brew. "Goddess, I deliver this to you. May it never again be found by mortals." With that she dropped the amulet in the cauldron.

The amulet seemed to melt in her brew. As it dissolved, she saw a scene – Eliosa and Finn together, drinking and talking. Not the ending she would have wanted, but probably for the best. Cerridwen’s priestesses did not marry.

With a sigh, she emptied the cauldron, put it way, and went back on her way. For now, enough had been revealed.