Galinia Game  
Edgar's Story

Elsbeth sat in the meadow just outside the little village, her backpack in her lap, Laddie lying beside her. A thousand and one thoughts went through her head, making her frown. As she stood with a sigh, she looked back toward where the others were and wondered how to tell them.

It was time to go find herself.

For too long now, in the service of her great uncle and Rolf's superiors, she had felt as if she were losing herself. Was she representative of her people that Edwy and her Lords saw her? Was she the Squire within the Order of the Sword Reforged that Rolf's people saw? Was she a foolish girl in love with another that could not return that love? Was she the interpreter of the Law of the Gods that Ravn saw? Was she a confused child incapable of even interpreting the Sign of Magpies as send by those of the air and sky?

Only the Great Druid could answer. Perhaps only then could Elsbeth Marva discover why she was so adrift, so lost?

Gathering her things, she went into town to tell Rolf and the others that she was to away to find what part of Elsbeth was truly Elsbeth.

They say goodbyes are the hardest. And to one who has never had anyone or anything to farewell before, perhaps they are hardest of all. Or perhaps not ... not if one judges by the tears that lined Elsbeth's face when she came down from the hillside where she had sat, watching the preparations, as she hugged first Rolf, then Madelyn, holding them tight as she could while the "take cares" and the "hurry backs" were voiced by the rest.

Perhaps it is love, and not loss that makes goodbyes so hard. Something a raven wouldn't be expected to know anything about...

Perched, as usual, on Mandrake's shoulder, Edgar watched Elsbeth, her shoulder bowed beneath the pack that seemed too heavy a burden for such a slight woman, the sun catching and lighting the pendants that hung from her ears and the silver edging on her dress, as she strode down to where Edwy's ship was making ready to depart, her wolf padding softly along besides her, not looking back.

Something moved him then - a terrible sadness at seeing her go, a mantle of solitude wrapped as a cloak around her. Or perhaps it was the "will of the gods", after all...

Mandrake too was caught in the grip in similar emotions, for no sooner had Edgar voiced a querulous caaaark than the gnome was scurrying forward with a hasty and bluff "might as well go the long way!" to the rest of their fellows as he hurried to catch up with Elsbeth.

The face that she turned towards them as they approached was tear-grimed, (and all the more beautiful for it) but set, her features composed into the face she would present to her people.

Mandrake shrugged, the smile on his lips one almost of embarrassment. "We would be honoured if you would permit us to accompany you," he said, the words almost formal, yet unable to conceal the emotion that lurked behind them.

"You should not be alone," Edgar added softly, kindly, the words coming unbidden, as oft of late, though there was, as always, a certain rightness about them.

Elsbeth hesitated, regarding the pair. For a moment, a smile graced the woman's lips, the ice in her gray eyes thawing for a just a heartbeat as she nodded her acceptance (and perhaps gratitude) before the mask slipped firmly into place. Then, she frowned.

"I'd been planning to go to the Holy Isle of the Heralds, where the High Druid lives". She blushed slightly, her uncertainty coming back in a rush. "I fear I have so much to yet learn, both in things of the world and things of those I am with." She bit her lip. "I have to be stopping in to see my kin, then it's by boat. If you're not minding that, or being with me, then I'd be happy to have ye with me." The truth be told, she'd be happier for the company.

"I too have business on the Isle," Mandrake assured her happily, a smile splitting his face, "and 'things to learn' ... and would be more than pleased to see your family once more."

And as they boarded the ship, in companionable silence, Mandrake patting Laddie warily, Elsbeth shushing the wolf's warning growl, as the gnome attempted to make friends, something lifted in Edgar's heart. Perhaps with Elsbeth and the gnome (who with the wolf seemed to be the only one without any doubts) he might find answers to questions that had been raised, concerning the gods; answers that might help a raven with many blessings find the reason for those gifts, and his place in the scheme of things ... and perhaps in talking with them, in answering those questions, Elsbeth might resolve some of her own doubts and be comforted. Perhaps...

The run to Dincaoc was made much easier by the swift breeze that pushed the curragh down the coast. Despite Elsbeth's fears, Edwy greeted his cousin warmly, any awkwardness lingering from the last visit to his village is forgotten, though no doubt the absence of Yuri and Herloch made things far easier. As the headland came into sight, the single square sail was furled and the oarsmen bent their backs to manoeuvre the vessel past the tall cliffs, to beach it on the sheltered cove.

The climb up from the beach was steep, and the approach of night made everyone more cautious with only lanterns and torches to guide their feet. By the end of it, Mandrake was huffing into his beard from his exertions. But soon all made it to the village at the top, nestled safe behind the narrow causeway that connects this spit of land to the mainland.

His two-legged companions otherwise occupied and seeking to avoid the attentions of curious villagers as they could not, Edgar sought out the company of Laddie, the wolf barely raising an eyebrow when first the raven approached, maybe because the scent was a familiar, non-threatening one, but most like the warmth of the day made it too much trouble for the wolf to stir himself. Though the purloined strips of meat that the raven is able to ply him with do elicit a certain amount of interest, and while it would be inaccurate to say that the two became firm friends, the wolf did at least look forward to the times the raven sought him out, for the meal if not the company. And he could always be relied upon to prick up his ears should the sound of Elsbeth's voice carry to him, and Edgar could only marvel at the relationship between the two, their devotion to each other obvious ... though perhaps some of that was in their shared wildness, the wildness that shuns civilisation and, though perhaps she'd never admit it, which kept her separate from family and friends, however much she cared for them or they for her.

Mandrake, though ... if there was aught that kept him separate from his companions, it was the simple fact that he was different to them, by birth and by inclination. As a gnome, his outlook was unlike that of the humans; as a mage amidst those who were priests and warriors or both, perhaps only Peter, quiet Peter, who saw all and yet was somehow untouched by it, could appreciate his scholarly interests. And Edgar, of course, a talking bird being even more out of place in that company.

Visit over and fare-ye-well's said (this second pass of leavetaking following hard upon the first was even more of an ordeal for Elsbeth, but she managed it somehow, mask still in place), it was back to the curragh for the voyage to Angasa. This time the voyage was harder, as the ship struggled to make headway into the breeze that aided the rowers before, but now caused them to curse and grumble. The heavy swell did naught for Elsbeth's stomach either, and she spent much of the journey with a decidedly greenish tinge to her pale skin. Neither the gnome nor the raven suffered so, but the glances the pair received from both girl and men soon brought an end to any attempt at conversation, and it was a relief to all when finally the ship nudged the dock.

The difficult voyage left scarcely a day before the "Guillemot" was due to depart - barely time for Elsbeth to recover and for Mandrake to arrange their passage and make what purchases they needed. The ship was small, but news that they would needs share a cabin with others was tempered by the discovery that Jesse and Rethe, along with two of their kinsmen, were numbered amongst their companions.

Sailing conditions had not improved by the time the "Guillemot" set sail for Stilmouth, much to Elsbeth's dread, but as they got further out to sea and the ship was caught in the teeth of a summer storm, Elsbeth perked up a bit, and ventured out on deck whist the rest sheltered below, laughing in the face of the wild winds, her braids loosed and her auburn hair whipping about her shoulders, the grey in her eyes matching the clouds above, the winds that roused the sea and lashed the ship serving to recharge her spirit.

Back in the cabin, once other topics of conversation had been exhausted, Edgar was able to press those who shared the cabin into teaching him something of the Gaelic tongue and religion. Of the former, the raven proved an apt student, picking up the nuances of inflection and grammar readily. However, the more Elsbeth and Rethe (with able assistance from the others) told him of the latter, the more questions he found himself asking, as he groped for understanding, questions that did not lift when the storm finally cleared as the Island came in sight, and did not end when the ship put too in Stilmouth.

But all questions would have to wait, for the Holy Isle itself and the meeting with the Barralli drew near. A few gold coins and a couple of hours saw the party disembarking from a small fishing vessel, thence a short walk from the beach to the college where passes were arranged.

With the libraries out of reach of one who had no letters (nor thought he had a need for the same), Edgar took to accompanying one or other of Elsbeth and Mandrake as they went about their business (for even in a Druidic college, the presence of a lone raven would not pass unremarked), watching in the main, questioning when he must.

But oft there were times when he could be with neither, and the sages and druids of the college were too busy to consider his questions and at these times Edgar took to perching in one of the trees in an open courtyard within the collage - a quiet place to sit and reflect. One afternoon, as he sat there, thinking, he was roused from his reverie by the sudden appearance of a man, who sat upon the bench that lay beneath Edgar's favoured tree.

"A talking bird, eh ?" the man said, without looking up, not needing to, to know that Edgar was there.

"Yes," Fighting his natural inclination to be sarcastic, for he was a guest here, "I can." Edgar agreed, somewhat puzzled.

"And you'd like to know the whys and wherefores behind that ?"

"Why ... yes." Who was this man ?

The man lifted his head, gazing up into the tree to unerringly catch Edgar's eye. "Why do you wish to know ?"

The words spilled out now, almost unbidden. "To find my place. To find meaning to my life. To find direction."

A smile touched the man's lips. "And what if there is no place, no meaning, no direction to be found ? What if they are all what you make of them ? What if there is only the journey itself ?"

"I do not understand," said Edgar, confusion and doubt tinging his words.

"That," said Oliver Green-Barrell, Raven King of Arms, Barralli of the Barrallis and Baron of the Holy Isle, kindly, as he rose from the bench and made his way out of courtyard, "is the first step."

If conversation had been exhausted on the voyage to the Isle, it mattered little on the journey home, as everyone was wrapped up in their own thoughts. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Mandrake prevailed upon Edgar to teach him something of the language of woodland creatures. Though preoccupied, the raven did his best, though thankfully, Jesse and Rethe were able to come to his rescue to clarify for the gnome, concepts that simply did not translate from the world of hunter/hunted.

The feast day of Summerfest, occurring while the ship was out at sea, still 5 days from Angasa, provided a welcome break.

As the sun sank slowly beneath the horizon, Edgar sat atop the high mast, staring out into nothingness, the questions that plagued him still dancing in his head. What had the man in the library meant ? That everyone was responsible for their own actions, and thus their own destiny was clear, but then what role did the gods play ? How did they fit in the scheme of things ? Unless they too shared this responsibility ...

Suddenly his attention was caught by something from below - not noise or movement, but a lack of both. As he stared down he saw mast caught mid gust, billowed out but unmoving, and below them, on the deck and on the rigging, sailors frozen in place.

A shadow passed over him then, and he turned to see another raven, but this one far greater in size than himself. "It is time," said the raven, "can you not hear the Call ?"

"The call ..." Edgar began, but then he heard it, just on the edge of hearing, a low pitched dirge with a terrible urgency about it.

The raven took wing and, a second later, spurred on by the Call, Edgar followed him; though he knew the ship to be at least a day from land, it somehow didn't seem to matter in this strange time-stopped world ...

The pair flew for what seemed like days, conscious only of the Call, until at last they approached an island, small and stark in the middle of the sea, an island that was on no map, and had never been seen by mortal eyes. As they swooped lower, Edgar saw a circle of standing stones, from within which shone a great light, cold, white, blinding. His guide did not falter, but headed straight for it, and, after but a second of hesitation, Edgar did likewise ...

A flash, a brief moment of pain, a burning at his neck, and then the light was gone, and Edgar found himself and his guide flying low over almost boundless woodland (in the back of his mind, Edgar marvelled at the sight, this once undimmed by his own poor vision). In the distance, he spied a second stone circle, this one the mirror of the first, but the stones themselves were larger, somehow more real. The Call grew louder now, the summons more urgent, and as they neared the stone circle, they were joined by a multitude of Edgar's brethren, till the skies were blackened by their passage, though the birds' cries and wingbeats were as nothing to the Call.

The birds landed upon the plinths atop the standing stones and though there did not seem to be enough room, each found a perch thereon. Here and there, amongst the smaller birds stood other of his guide's kind, dwarfing their more numerous kin.

In the centre of the circle stood five women, all beautiful of form, beyond that of mortal women, but one, she clothed in a samite gown of blood-red hue, the most beautiful of all ... until they turned around, and one could see their faces, decayed, hideous and she that was the most beautiful of form had the most dreadful visage, flesh tainted and marked with the corruption of the grave, and in each hand she held a mighty spear, and from her throat came the Call, her cry alike that of ten thousand men.

A sight, these five women, that would strike fear into the heart of any man ... but not in the hearts of those to whom human beauty was but an ephemeral thing, those that gathered at the end of the battle to feast upon the decomposing flesh of the fallen - they were unafraid, though not unmoved, for to Her they owed great respect and honour.

"Who are those women ?" Edgar asked of his guide, though he could not tear his gaze away from them.

"They are War," his guide replied, "Fea the Hateful, Nemon the Venomous, Badb the Fury, Macha, she of the Battle, and, above them all, our mistress, Morrigan, the Great Queen".

The Great Queen fell silent then, when all were gathered, and into that silence, each bird spoke in turn, telling of what they had seen in the world of Men. Some spoke of Kings, some of great heroes, while others told of common men and women. And to each the Great Queen listened carefully.

At last her gaze fixed upon Edgar, "And what of you, little raven ... what have you seen ?"

Racking his memories of these past weeks and months and what therein would be of interest to the Great Queen, Edgar answered in the fashion of those who had gone before him.

"I followed the Hunt with the warrior Callum mac Aonghas and the priestess Elsbeth Marva Treveri ... Rolf Leifson, Constable and Mandrake Underroot, Herald at their side, when they cleansed the woods of their foes."

The Great Queen smiled then, and began to turn away to the next, but Edgar, with a courage he knew not, spoke up . "Why ?" All his questions contained in but a single word.

Slowly the Great Queen turned back, regarding him silently for a moment before she deigned to answer. "Why War ? For without War there can be no hope of change, no hope of redress. Why the gods ? As well ask why men, for as we made them, so they made us."

One more question dared, filled with hope "Did you choose me ?"

The smile again. "You chose yourself."

Strange feelings washed over Edgar, not of peace, but of acceptance, and he bowed his head. "Great Queen," he acknowledged.

"Welcome, little raven," she said as she turned to the next ...

A sense of belonging then, as the rest of the Messengers spoke (both with those here gathered, and with those Edgar had left behind - *his* two-legs) until at last the tales were told and all fell silent ... and then, as the Great Queen turned away the birds took wing, the sky blackening once more as they made their way back to the land of the living ...

Edgar woke then, to the shouts of sailors as they pointed off the starboard bow to where a great black shadow disappeared into the night. The cool breeze that pulled at the sails ruffled his feathers as he sat atop the mast and remembered. Looking down, he noted, dispassionately, a reddish tinge to his neck feathers were once Mandrake's ribbon lay (burned in during the passage through the standing stones ?) and, on his ankle, an iron band that should have been heavy, but which was strangely light, and upon which were engraved a pair of crossed spears.

With a caaark of delight, Edgar launched himself into the night, circling the ship one, twice, thrice before returning to his friends in their cabin. Questions he had still ... but now he would not look to everyone else to provide the answers.

The remainder of the voyage was blessedly uneventful, and the ship made port safely and in good time back in Angasa.

To the surprise of all present, Edgar was the first to announce he had other plans and would be taking his leave for a while, though it did not seem like a goodbye to him for he knew it would not be long before they met up again. So with an almost joyous "see you in Tas Bardon, my friends !" he took to the air, winging away ...

That night, under cover of darkness, Edgar alighted in the crows nest of a ship bound the next day for the mainland, with the aim of seeking out Manna mac Lanna mac Lin, firstly because he had seemed most knowledgable about the Morrigan and her Messengers ... but mostly so that he might apologise to the Giant.

Luckily, the lookout had not yet thrown off his drunk of the night before, and, aided by frequent sips from a flask he had frequented up there, saw nothing odd in conversing with the raven, and from him Edgar learned the location of the Lone Sea Rock, and took off as soon as land was in sight (alas to him, just a blurred vision in the distance, but distinguishable from the sky and sea). It took two days to reach Manna's new settlement, and that without stopping to assuage his growing hunger.

At least the giant was large enough to see in the distance, working away at the palisade that would surround and protect his new home. Piles of timber lay neatly stacked nearby, proof that Sir Richard was as good as his word. Edgar was surprised to see no other workers, but then remembering the giant's wish for privacy, perhaps it was all too understandable that he preferred to do the work himself.

Edgar settled softly atop the lintel over the posts that would frame the gate, when it was completed. However, if he'd thought to surprise Manna, he was mistaken, for the giant immediately picked up the movement, and downed his tools to regard the new arrival.

"Labhair Mac Morgana," rumbled the giant, his voice low, his eyes unreadable as they watch Edgar closely.

Labhair Mac Morgana. Speak, child of the Morrigan. Or something like that - why did these two-legs need so many tongues !

"Fàilte, fiomhalach," the raven replied, haltingly. Greetings, giant. Hesitating just a moment longer, he held up his leg with the thin metal band upon it.

The giant starred at him, then shook his head, holding up one hand to indicate Edgar should land on it.

Carefully, Edgar glided down from the lintel, and perched on the outstretched hand, big enough to crush him in an instant, should the giant choose. Again, with trepidation, he held up the leg. The giant's gaze flicked down and his eyes widened slightly as he saw the crossed spears.

"Fioghair na morgana," the giant said. A sign of the Morrigan. "Fàilte, bran," he added, bowing his head, a smile touching his lips. Welcome, raven.

"Duilich." I apologise. Or as near to it as this tongue would allow. Despite his denials and rationalisations, he HAD tried to trick the giant.

"Fàilte," Manna repeated, his smile growing. Welcome.

The months that followed were pleasant ones. Manna worked hard to complete his palisade and home, and seemed to enjoy Edgar's company and conversation. Infrequently, ships would dock bringing building materials, foodstuffs and other supplies, courtesy of the Earl Briganda, but apart from these short interruptions, the two were alone. Talking to Mana, Edgar learned more of the Gaelic tongue, of the Morrigan and Her nature, of the user of Her Voice (though this was something which would only come in time, as She willed it) and, incidentally, more about the construction of fences and houses than he could ever have wished ! In return, the raven spoke to the giant (as he would to no other) of his dream, and of his hopes and fears before and since.

Finally though, prompted by the arrival of another supply ship, Edgar felt it time to move on, to return to Tas Bardon, there to meet with his companions, heroes all, that he might watch over them and witness their deeds (and provide what assistance he could, for were they not his friends). Thanking Manna for his hospitality and companionship ... and for arranging passage on the ship (thus saving the raven a long and possibly hazardous flight)

"Aon lia ni," said the giant, holding out his hand for Edgar to hop onto it, before touching his huge fingers to the thin metal band around Edgar's leg, and muttering a few words of prayer.

"Soraidh na Morgana ar sibh," he said at length. The blessings of the Morrigan be upon you.

"Taing sibh," said Edgar softly. Thank you.

"Mo ghenar duit," the giant replied with a smile, taking up his spade and turning back to his vegetable garden as Edgar flew down to the waiting ship. And good luck to you.