Book 2: Chapter 32:
 Inn for a Pint (Bren)

Day 15 of Midwinter, Nightfall

Deepwater Harbor, Murias

Annwn

The Guardian of the Mist brought us into the harbor in record time. One moment we were on the edge of the world, which Manny called Tairseach, and the next we were back in Murias Harbor. What would normally have been a full day’s trip had been completed in just a few minutes, roughly the time it took for Manny to—sort of—explain why he’d left me alone in the sea.

“You’re telling me you conjured a storm just to see if I’d survive it?” I was too confused by his logic to be angry.

“Technically, Father conjured the storm,” he admitted. “Though he only did it because I told him of my plan with the salmon at the Tairseach.”

I realized I was, after all, angry, as my boot connected with Manny’s chest, sending him flying over the side of the boat and into the water. The currach stopped immediately and began to sink. A few night fishermen paddling by stared at the sinking boat. Up to my ankles in seawater, I waved.

Dripping, the boy-god pulled himself up over the side of the boat. With a flip of his hand, he emptied the currach of water. He scowled at me.

“I have decided not to drown you,” he said, “but I am tempted.

“I’m on a timeline, Manny!”

He sighed. “We all are, Bren, but the stakes for the Tuatha are a bit higher.”

I thought about kicking him again but realized he might actually drown me if I did. “Whatever is happening here affects us all equally.”

The boat shot into the canals of the city, pulling to a stop in a different place than we had gotten into the gods-forsaken currach.

“Where are we going now?” I asked, stepping out onto what I guessed would be considered a sidewalk in the waterlogged city. Manannán approached a nearby building and tapped on the plain, stone wall.

“Do you still want to know how to enter Tir fo Thuinn?”

I nodded and walked up beside him, facing the wall. “Are there portals in different cities or ports, or just this one?”

“The secret isn’t WHERE to enter. You can enter from just about any location in Annwn. The secret is HOW to enter.” He looked at the wall and bowed his head. “This truth is why the king will never be allowed entry.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, totally confused.

“The first requirement is that you must have a NEED to enter. The second is that you must humbly request entry.” He gestured to the wall. “Give it a try.”

I did as he had done and bowed my head and knocked on the wall with a fist. “Uh… hello?” Manny nudged me to continue. “Can we please come in? I need to find Lir’s brother.”

Manny leaned in and whispered, “You don’t actually have to say why you want to enter.” I rolled my eyes at the magical know-it-all. But a translucent sheen did indeed appear on the wall, and we stepped through to Tir fo Thuinn.

Lir wasn’t in the room. That made sense, I supposed. He couldn’t spend all his time waiting for visitors. Manny walked straight across the room to another door. It took him only a second to find the right portal.

“We will journey to the western foothills of Tech Duinn.” He disconnected a familiar, small bag from his belt. It was the grayish leather bag he had stashed all of my stuff in. Tossing it to me, he said, “You may borrow the Crane Bag for this quest. Inside it, you will find many things to help you along the way.” He turned and walked through the portal. Unsure of what to do with the bag at the moment, I followed him.

The portal brought me to the back side of a small wooden structure that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There was a larger building next to the one we had used as our exit point. Around us, farther out into the wilderness, I could see we were surrounded by what New Englanders would consider mountains, but looming larger than those was a massive volcanic mountain that dominated the Eastern view.

“I never enjoy stepping through here,” Manny said, making his way toward the larger building. “But it’s even worse going back the other direction.”

I followed him toward what I could now see was a tavern of sorts. The other side of the small wooden structure revealed itself to be an outhouse. I was going to make a joke about Manny taking me to all of the nicest places in Annwn but managed to resist.

Voices came from the front of the tavern, a tiki-style pub that was mostly open to the air. There was a roof, of course, but even that was different than I was used to seeing. It was probably 20 feet off of the ground. When I saw the clientele, I understood why.

Beneath a sign reading “Inn for a Pint,” stood a familiar ogre drinking out of a large wooden mug. Garbánach. I looked over to Manny in disbelief.

“Here at Maurice’s fine rustic establishment,” he emphasized the “fine” part extra loud so the bartender could hear him, “all manner of fae are welcome. No violence and no provocation is permitted.”

“Bren Callahan!” I heard the bartender say. Looking more closely, I realized I knew this bartender. He was the same man (if that was the right word for what he actually was) from the tavern in Port Cóelrenna. I didn’t see how it could be a coincidence that I was somehow meeting the same bartender in a completely different part of Annwn. Some goofy Otherworldly nonsense had to be afoot.

“Hey, Maurice,” I said. At the sound of my voice, the nearby ogre swiveled to look at me, his eyes blowing up like two enormous balloons. I could understand why. Garbánach was the same ogre that I had wrestled with only four days earlier. He had eaten me just after I swam ashore from the Heart-shaped Pool. When I reappeared only moments later, he had gotten a lesson in just how strong one of the Annwn immortals can be.

“Would you like two more of those golden lagers you enjoyed so much down in the Southlands?” Maurice asked.

I looked over at Manny and he shrugged. “That’s a yes for me, Maurice, though it’s not Callahan anymore. I guess it never really was.”

The bartender considered my words and then smiled. “Good. It didn’t suit you.” He turned to another section under the tall ceiling, reaching up to refill a bucket I saw a bipedal turtle drinking out of. Now that I looked around, I could see that many of the patrons didn’t have opposable digits. The drinking vessels appeared to come in a wide variety of types, everything from traditional mugs and glasses to the turtle’s bucket and a few trough-like objects.

Manny approached Garbánach while Maurice and I continued to chat. At first, the ogre seemed unsure how to react, but whatever Manny said to him kept his attention.

“So, you’re knobbing hobs with the noble types now?” Maurice asked quietly. His eyes suddenly flicked up to the shelled tortoise. “Mortimal! You know you’re not allowed to leave your severed limbs where everyone can smell them.” This place was so weird. Every day I was in Annwn, my bar for what I considered strange moved.

“The ogre says he will help us,” Manny announced, coming back over to Maurice and I. “But I’m a little confused about his terms.”

“Why? What in the world is Garbánach going to help us with?”

“This is where my uncle was last seen, according to Maurice here.”

Maurice nodded. “The Smith lord was headed toward the fire-breathing mountain many moons ago”

“Do you know why?” I asked, before remembering that Tech Duinn is the only place in all of Annwn where the Duinnite ore could be found. “Was he seeking out more Silverwhite material?”

Manny gave me a nod. “That is my thinking too, though I’m surprised you know of such things, being so new to our world. Garbánach said he would take us into the shadowy crags of Tech Duinn where his people lurk… as long as you call off your pigs, whatever that means. By the sages, I have no idea what he is talking about.”

Embarrassed, I didn’t expound on my past encounter with the ogre. Instead, I thanked Maurice and wished him a good evening. We gathered our gear and my good buddy, Garbánach, then headed farther into the mountains.