milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Back at Clwyd Farm, Bran warns Owen Davies and John Rowlands about some dangers of Milliways.]

Only twice, since the day a year and more ago when Bran and Will pulled the golden harp from the pleasant lake, has Bran Davies come to the bar without it. Always, when he enters the bar, Bran plays a strange high aching melody that sounds almost, but not quite, familiar. He plays that song tonight, as he pushes the front door open.

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And, without warning, Merriman is at his side. Dark formal robes swirl about him, and though his face is expressionless his gaze is anything but.

'Bran Davies.' The name serves as greeting and acknowledgement and crack of doom all at once. 'I spoke with the White Rider a short time ago. And I would like to know what, if anything, has transpired between you and her of late.'

(Yes, it's Merriman-ese for 'What in blazes did you do to piss her off this time?')

Bran does not flinch at Merriman in his rage. Instead he stands still, his white hair flying loose around his head, and gazes back at Merriman with a proud golden-eyed stare. With quiet assurance, Bran explains,

"John Rowlands came to Milliways Wednesday last, and did not return home for two days. I discovered that he had been here, with her, all of that time, and that the White Rider had told him several things that were not true about herself, me, and you. I do not know everything she said, but she did say to him, in my presence, something like, 'It is as I told you! The dewin has tricked him.'

"With the help of the harp I restored John's memories, so that he could recall the truth. I believe I also said some unpleasant, although quite true, things about the Dark. I did not touch the White Rider with power, and I would do everything that I did again, if asked."

John Rowlands. In Milliways.

As if things could not get better for all involved.

'And what was her response to that?'

"She was furious," Bran replies evenly. "If she did not before, she hates me now."

He pauses, and when he speaks again, some of the worry leaks into Bran's proud face. "I have warned my da, and John, that Milliways is dangerous for them now, and I am looking for my mother, to tell her that she is at risk."

'There are others at risk as well.'

He folds his arms across his chest, with a soft rustle of cloth upon cloth.

'She has been at work here. Enchanted one person -- one that I know of, at least, for there may well be others -- and attempted to ensnare another. Tampered with the memory of yet another who defied her or challenged her in some way. And she has sworn a new liege-man into her service.'

John Rowlands, were he here, would have past observations confirmed by the light that burns in the depths of Merriman's eyes.

'Remarkably busy, for a very short span of time.'

The answering glitter in Bran's eyes is the hot fury of the Wild Magic, not the deep cold of the Light. "Then it is time, and more than time, to do something about the so-busy White Rider."

'I have spoken to the lady Moiraine already -- she is aware of what is going on. It will take more than the Light to untangle the Rider's work, I fear.' Merriman shakes his head, a rather weary gesture that does not quite match up with the power in his gaze. 'The one she has enchanted is known as Puck. Robin Goodfellow, as I have known him in other times. And by our world's standard's he is of the Wild Magic.'

Bran stares, shocked off-balance at last. " 'That merry wanderer of the night'? She has him? Then it will take everything all of us have, and more."

He nods slowly. 'I sincerely hope he is the strongest of those she has taken. The Wild Magic, in whatever form, does not take well to being caught in the struggle between the Light and Dark. There is no small amount of risk involved in whatever we may attempt to do.'

"There is risk now, before we act," Bran counters.

'True enough,' he says, though the exasperation in his voice also says 'thank you for pointing out the patently obvious'. 'But confronting her here will not be a simple matter. Even if the security staff are alerted to the situation, it will still require the Light's power to break the spells she has cast without doing irreparable damage to her victims. At this time of year, it will be more complicated than usual.'

His gaze flickers in the direction of the door leading out of the bar, toward the lake.

'And will require a suitable location from which to act.'

[OOC: Many thanks for the correction. *kicks self*]

Bran follows Merriman's gaze.

"I heard a wren singing by the lake, once."

Half a year ago, it was, when the Light's power was at its peak.

'Outside the bar itself, we may deal with her as we see fit. With less risk of harming others, and without making ourselves personae non gratae to Bar security and staff.'

Bran nods.

He might notice Nita, saying something angry to Blodwen Rowlands, before rising and hurrying towards the door to the lake.

Bran sees Nita, and he sees who Nita has come from. In sharp worry, he asks, "Nita? Are you all right, there?"

She looks up, and hesitates.

". . .Yeah. Barely."

Her hands are starting to shake, from adrenaline and power backlash, and she balls them up to hide it.

"You need to sit down, now," Bran says, pulling out a chair for Nita and sitting across from her. He waves Tashka over. "Two cups of tea, please, and aspirin, and something calming for Nita to eat. Diolch."

Turning back to Nita, Bran says, "Did she hurt you?" The anger in his face is not directed at Nita.

She gives him a sharp look, and slowly shakes her head.

"No. She tried to."

Tashka returns with the tea, two pills and a bowl of soup. Bran pays her, thanks her and pours the tea.

"Drink something, and eat, and take the aspirin, before you tell me anything more. It will make you feel better. And thank God you are safe."

"Trust me, I am," she mutters, and gives him a grateful look. "Thanks, Bran."

"Of course," Bran says, drinking his own tea to give Nita some time to collect herself.

She swallows the aspirin with a swallow of tea and makes some headway on the soup before looking up at him again.

"You know her."

"Yes." Bran cradles his teacup in his hands as he explains. "She is the White Rider of the Dark, and in the form of Blodwen Rowlands, a shepherd's wife, she watched over me all of my life, until four years ago the Light cast the Dark out of time. Now she is trapped here, but she seems to be gathering power for some purpose or other that I doubt any of us will like at all."

". . .No kidding."

She shivers. "Geez."

Bran refills both teacups.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

She wraps her hands around the teacup and looks down at it for a moment.

"She was trying to throw some kind of -- trap, or net or something -- over my will." Looking back up at him, she continues, "I don't know why. She didn't even know I was a wizard until I started fighting."

"And you did break free. Good girl." Bran thinks, his face shadowed. "I do not know how the Dark works, not really. Merlion or Will might have a better idea what she could do with someone she has caught."

She sips her tea, frowning.

"If it's anything like overshadowing -- I don't know. Overshadowed wizards don't even know there's anything wrong, usually."

Bran searches Nita's face. "I do not know what overshadowing is. I think if you had lost to her, you might not have known, but I would have been able to tell by now, if I were watching closely. Which I am."

She manages a small smile. "Yeah? That's comforting, anyway."

The smile disappears, and she adds, "Overshadowing is. . . influence by the Lone One. It's not easily broken."

"The Lone... I see. Yes, the Dark can do that." Bran closes his eyes. The Grey King's warestone spoke into his mind, once, years ago, and he did not notice.

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