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anotherinternetuser · 11 months ago

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My broski has published her book, and both very excited and touch to say that she commissioned me to do her cover! I was truly honored to make art for such a fun and fantastical book, and I heavily encourage anyone who has an interest in mythology and supernatural aspects to have a read!!

Here, the first chapter is posted for free, but if you want the rest, hit the link! Brigid is absolutely chock full of lore, intrigue, complex characters and dynamic relationships, sprinkled with just enough humor to keep it balanced! I would argue my favorite aspect of this book is the way it explores the tragedy of being the chosen one and the lack of agency that comes with following your destiny. I’d elaborate, but then I get into spoiler territory, so have a read instead 😉

Once again, I thank my friend for giving me the chance to make her cover. I had a blast designing all the elements that went into it and the little details. If you’re interested on a nice unique spin on Celtic mythology, have a look!

The Epic of Brigid Callahan: Chapter 1

What would you do if you didn’t want to fulfill a prophecy?

Chapter 1

Brigid let out a hum as she turned the page of her book. She sprawled out in an old lawn chair she had found in the shed out back. An old plastic thing that wobbled and creaked as she hauled it to the clearing where she wouldn’t be disturbed for a few hours. She had pulled her long, curly black hair back off her neck where sweat had begun to gather, not helped by the warm sun of spring filtering through the leaves of the tree.

Birds chirped in the branches. Squirrels rustled about in the leaves. The faint smell of dew stubbornly clung to the air as the morning sun worked to burn off all traces of the night. Minus the old, plasticky chair with broken bits that creaked when you shifted just right, it painted a very pastoral picture. Brigid could easily imagine herself the heroine of some Jane Austen novel, where her days were spent reading poetry and eating small sandwiches while talking about the latest eligible bachelor with her sisters.

Cú would scoff and demand to know why gossip and unreasonably small finger sandwiches were more fun than what she was supposed to be doing. Fionn would probably say something about how the grass was greener on the other side and everything had the opportunity to be boring. Brigid didn’t care. Finger sandwiches and bachelors were different. And she wanted different.

So, yeah, she would pretend the plastic, broken chair was instead a luxurious…daybed? Or something. And she would read her book in a clearing in the early morning spring weather. And she would enjoy it. Even if she was supposed to be practicing with a bow and arrow. Oh, well, it was Fionn’s fault for not watching her. Besides, she wasn’t just pretending like she was in a Jane Austen novel. She was a girl with goals. Goals that required patience to complete.

She had been reading for the better part of an hour. She wondered how much longer she would need. She started to get a bit bored, lacking sisters to gossip with and bachelors to gossip about. She did tell herself she’d wait as long as possible, but Fionn would get suspicious soon.

She could handle Fionn well enough. But if Cú came looking…. He got a bit testy when Brigid didn’t do exactly what she was supposed to do. She did have goals, yes. But was it worth it to sit through another ten-hour lecture about how she had responsibilities and training was the only way she’d survive and Balor was dangerous and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah? She usually tuned him out when he brought Balor up, so she didn’t know what Cú’s next points were.

She could see it now. Cú would be ticked off. She’d be ticked off. They’d argue, and one of them would stomp off, and Brigid would have to muck out the stables or something as punishment. Was that what she wanted? Would it be worth it?

She sighed. Probably not. She read a few more pages of the book, just to be sure, and decided the whole plan failed. She began to pack it in. Just as she slipped the book into her pocket, something rustled. But this wasn’t the rustling of tree leaves in the wind. Oh, no. This was the rustling of the underbrush. The scurrying of rabbit feet told her the mark arrived.

She suppressed a smile, opened the book back up, and settled back into the chair. She wasn’t reading anymore. Not now. Not when her goal was close.

“We were supposed to be playing tag,” came a voice. A small hare crept out from underneath the brush, not coming right up to Brigid, hanging out on the periphery.

Brigid had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her face neutral. “I’m reading.” She shrugged, careful with her words so as not to suggest anything. Cú and Fionn drilled that lesson into her head on a near-constant basis. As someone with faerie blood in her veins, words had meaning. They had weight. One wrong verb, one wrong preposition, and you could accidentally make a contract you didn’t intend to make. She watched her words well. Even if Cú would argue otherwise.

The hare took a few cautious steps forward, nose twitching, ears swiveling to catch for predators. “Are you admitting defeat, mortal girl? Am I to be the victor of our game?”

“Perhaps,” Brigid said, not taking her eyes off the book, turning the page as if what was written interested her more than the hare. Gods and goddesses didn’t like to be ignored.

“Look at me! You failed to win. You should accept your defeat with grace!” The hare hopped forward, mad and ready to give Brigid a piece of her mind.

Perfect.

The hare let out a shriek as the snare trap tightened around her neck.

Brigid let out a whoop and leaped off the chair, smacking the hare on its rump. “Tag, you’re it. I win.”

“No! You gave up. I won!”

Brigid grinned. “I never said I gave up. You assumed I did.”

“You were sitting down on a chair and reading!”

“Maybe that’s how I play tag,” Brigid said.

The hare continued to kick and struggle to get out of the snare, but it was pointless. Even if it did manage to escape, Brigid had won.

“That’s not how you play tag, and you know it.”

Brigid tapped her chin. “Let’s recount the deal. I said we would play tag. The rules were if I managed to touch you during the game, I would win. I don’t remember saying anything about needing to run after each other. Besides, you’re a hare. You run faster than me, and you know it. Next time, clarify before agreeing.”

“Tricks! You tricked me!”

Brigid laughed. “I did, but it’s not against the rules. I laid out my terms plain as day. If you wanted to make assumptions, you should have clarified them. Hopefully, you don’t make a habit of signing contracts.”

“The rules were implied,” the hare screeched.

Brigid clicked her tongue. “Faeries don’t do well with implications. Lesson to you going forward. You need to make your intentions, rules, and exceptions clear. Now, per our agreement, I ‘tagged’ you. So…” She held out her hand. “Please give me your name.”

The hare stopped struggling and eyed the hand warily. “You can’t take it from me.”

“I’m not taking it from you. You’re giving it to me. That was our agreement. If I win, you give me your name. If you win, you get to eat me. You didn’t win.”

“You said I did.”

Brigid squatted down and looked the hare in the eye. “No, I said ‘perhaps’, with the ‘you won’ being implied.”

“You said faeries don’t do well with implications.”

“We don’t. Which is why it didn’t mean anything. No one declared you won, and you came to me before you clarified what I had meant. It’s your own fault. Now, quit stalling. Nasty things happen to people who break an agreement with a faerie. Do you think you’re powerful because you’re a god? You have nothing on the power that comes from an agreement.”

Brigid smiled at the hare. This time, she let her full threatening façade out. The uncanny blue eyes. The teeth were a bit too white and sharp to be a real human’s. The skin was a bit too smooth. A body that looked human, but when you examined it, it didn’t. You could tell something was off. Something was dangerous.

“You’re not a full faerie,” the hare sniffed, though she shrunk back upon realizing she had missed the biggest predator in this forest. “You’re a fake. A farce.”

“If that were true, you’d be able to get out of this with no problem. And giving your name wouldn’t give me any power over you. Now, don’t make me ask again. Your name, please.”

The hare shuddered and let out a pathetic moan. “You shan’t be using it for nefarious purposes, right?”

“Should have clarified before you agreed to give it to me,” Brigid said.

“I hate faeries,” the hare said. “Fine, fine. I’ve been bested. My name is Medeina and Žvorūnė. I am goddess and beast of the forest.”

Brigid smiled and closed her hand as the name transferred over to her. “Thank you kindly, Miss Medeina. You’re going in my book now.” She pulled out a worn notebook and flipped to a blank page where she wrote down her name and what she was the goddess of.

She had a few deities of the forest, but not many were also beasts. That might be fun to explore later. She’d have to do research later to see what exactly Medeina could do.

Medeina peeked over the pages. “Isn’t it dangerous, walking around with so many true names in a book? What if you lost it? What if a monster gets ahold of it?”

“You worry too much.” Brigid snapped the notebook closed and slipped it into her pocket.

Medeina let out a series of angry rabbit squawks. “I have reason to worry. Now, you wretched beast parading around as a girl, will you let me go? Or am I to be your servant for as long as I live?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been craving rabbit stew for a while. It’s hard to find rabbit in the grocery store.” She sighed dramatically.

Medeina let out another shriek. “Monster! You’re a monster!”

“Things you’re learning a bit too late, huh?” She bent her fingers so they looked like claws and growled.

“Brigid, quit tormenting the local gods,” someone said from behind her.

She winced and turned to see Fionn. “Technically, she’s not local. She’s Baltic.”

Fionn gave her a disapproving stare.

Brigid’s cheeks burned. She turned away from Fionn. “I’m just saying.”

Fionn shook his head and bent over to release the snare around Medeina’s neck. She scampered off into the woods, shouting about monsters.

“You were supposed to be working on something. What was it now? Faerie circles?” He said, tapping his chin.

“Marksmanship,” Brigid muttered.

“Oh, that’s right. With a bow and arrow and eventually with a spear. That is what we agreed upon this morning.”

“I am great at marksmanship, though!” Brigid cried. “I hit the target every time. I can do it with both my left and right hand. At this point, I could do it blindfolded. I went out and found another challenge.”

Fionn did not look impressed, crossing his arms and quirking a brow. “And instead of, say, practicing your dirk or your hand-to-hand combat skills, you decided there would be more challenge in stealing yet another god’s name?”

“I don’t steal them. They give them to me. There’s a difference.”

Fionn remained unimpressed, with his arms crossed and staring down at her. She would never win this fight or convince him she was right and totally not doing something morally questionable at best.

“You have to trick them into giving you their names,” Fionn said. “You know they underestimate you.”

“That’s their fault for underestimating me. If they treated me like an equal and not assume I’m some weak little girl, maybe they wouldn’t get their names taken.”

“Brigid,” Fionn said, a warning tone in his voice.

She slumped over. “Fine. Don’t tell Cú, though. Please? I get bored with all these lessons and practice day after day after day. They don’t challenge me anymore.”

Fionn grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “These lessons are important. Even if they are redundant. Don’t fear the man who knows a thousand techniques. But fear the man that has practiced one technique—”

“A thousand times,” Brigid mumbled. “I hate how much of a Bruce Lee fan you are.”

“These lessons and their repetition are important. Balor is a strong foe, possibly stronger than you. He certainly is taller than you.”

“I’m not short!” Brigid squawked as Fionn came to rest an elbow on the top of her head.

“So, you can throw a spear with your eyes closed, fantastic,” Fionn continued. “That means when he does show up, you will be strong enough to defeat him.”

“If,” Brigid quietly corrected. “If he shows up while I’m alive.”

Fionn’s smile tightened, and he nodded his head stiffly. “Of course. If he shows up.”

It was hard to argue with Fionn like this. His calm and measured responses never crossed over into arguments. She wondered how he did it and if she could learn his techniques.

“Alright, alright. I won’t steal any more names.”

“Because you don’t ‘steal’ them, they give them to you?” Fionn raised a brow.

Damn! She had hoped he wouldn’t catch that. “Fine. I will not make any gods in this forest give me their names.”

“Because you ran out of gods in the forest to trick?”

“No!” she scoffed.

Fionn continued to look at her, unimpressed.

“Yes,” she slumped forward. “It’s not my fault they’re all stupid! I mean, did you see that snare? I didn’t bother to hide it. Had she waited like two more minutes and been more aware of her surroundings, she would have won.”

“Yes, I saw the snare. At least your hunting skills are decent. And it’s good Medeina’s observational skills are not. I would have hated to find out you had been eaten by a forest god.”

“I would have gotten out of it,” Brigid assured him.

“If you say so.”

She glanced at him. “You won’t tell Cú?”

“No, I won’t tell Cú,” Fionn promised.

His promises meant nothing as they rounded the path to get to the main property on the compound and were immediately faced with a very pissed-off Cú Chulainn. Hands on hips. Expression thunderous. Foot tapping. It would have been comical with how over the top he acted. If Brigid didn’t know what was about to happen.

She turned to glare at Fionn.

Fionn shrugged. “What? I didn’t tell him a thing. He figured it out all on his own. You should know better than anyone the power words hold.” He had the gall to laugh.

“Hey, Cú.” She knew she couldn’t get out of this. She would try anyway.

“Sneaking off on your lessons again?” Cú asked.

For a brief second, she thought about lying and saying she was doing her lessons.

“Don’t lie, to me, Brigid Callahan,” he said.

Well, there goes that idea.

“To be fair, this has been going on for a while now. I don’t know why you’re surprised.” She opted for another strategy that was equally as useless as straight-up denial.

“You need to take this seriously! Balor is a threat and—”

Wow, he mentioned Balor in two sentences. That had to be some kind of record. Normally, he warmed up to the Balor threat. Thankfully, though, this meant Brigid could now tune him out. This wasn’t the first time she had heard this speech, and it wouldn’t be the last. Maybe if he could pull that stick out of his ass, he’d be more pleasant to be around. Fionn had long given up on trying to corral her into any sort of regimented training program. He had read in some sort of child-rearing book that letting rebellious kids choose what they wanted to do made them more empowered.

She wasn’t sure if she bought that. After all, was it a choice when, no matter what, you’d be learning how to fight some giant your ancestor couldn’t kill properly? It was one of the only things she and Cú agreed on. And it didn’t seem to be giving Fionn the results he wanted. Not that Brigid cared. No matter what she did, they’d never be proud until she killed Balor. Why try?

“Are you listening to me?” Cú snapped.

“Hmm. Yeah. I am. I totally am.” Maybe she could spin this in a way that wouldn’t lead to yet another awkward and boring “family” dinner.

“Hey, I was thinking and reading,” Brigid said, pulling out the book she had been reading while waiting for Medeina to fall into her trap; some book on gifted kids she got from the library. She learned the best way to get that was to convince Fionn some shrink wrote a book on the subject. “This book says when students refuse to do their work, it’s because it’s too easy.”

Cú looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Fionn looked mildly interested.

“What if—hear me out—what if I started training with the Gáe Bulg and the Briga?”

“Absolutely not,” Cú said as Fionn said, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Cú glared at Fionn. “I am not giving her the Gáe Bulg to train with! That is a deadly weapon that takes years to train with properly. She’ll prick her finger and get ripped inside out by a thorn bush. Is that what you want, Fionn?”

“I haven’t pricked myself on a sharp object in years! What is this, Sleeping Beauty?”

“She has a point,” Fionn argued. “Besides, it would be a good idea for her to start training with it now. You know, so when Balor comes, she’ll know how to use it.”

“If!” she and Cú said at the same time.

Fionn frowned. “Fine. If Balor comes, she’ll be ready.”

Cú shook his head. “No. You can give her the Briga to train with. But I’m not handing her the Gáe Bulg until she’s proven she’s mature enough to handle it. And sneaking off during lessons is not a sign of maturity.”

Brigid groaned. “Come on! You keep saying I need to train to fight Balor, but how am I going to defeat him with my dirk? He’s a giant! With a giant fire eye!”

“The eye’s not technically fire. It shoots fire,” Fionn said.

“Cú,” Brigid turned to focus all her attention on him. “Maybe the reason I rebel is you’ve already made up your mind about me? You know? Child psychology?”

“There aren’t enough child psychology books in the world to figure out how to deal with you,” Cú said.

Brigid flinched.

“Alright,” Fionn said with false cheer in his voice, clapping his hands together. “It’s been a long day. Brigid, why don’t you go inside and shower? Cú, you and I can prepare for the Beltane party tonight. Won’t that be fun? Seeing all the aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews?”

“It’s morning,” Brigid grumbled.

“Yes, and the day technically starts at midnight. It’s been a while,” Fionn said. “Come on, off you trot. Cú, be a dear and make sure we have enough food for tonight.”

“She needs to keep training,” Cú snapped.

“It’s Beltane. One day off won’t kill us,” Fionn said.

Brigid let out a frustrated groan and stomped to her room. Once inside, she let the door slam shut and threw herself on the bed.

She didn’t get long to be alone, though, as a tapping sound came from the window. She glanced up to see Set in his jackal form, the war scepter pattern etched onto the fur on his side, pawing at the window.

She sat up to open it. “If Cú sees you, he’ll freak out.”

“Make sure he doesn’t see me.” Set shook his head and scratched his ear like a dog. “Did you get it?”

“Of course, I did. She was easy to catch. All I had to do was sit and wait.” Brigid fell face-first back onto the bed.

“And what was her name?”

She kicked Set as he started to paw her journal out from to pocket on her skirt. “I’m not telling you. Bad dog.”

“Not a dog.” Set jumped back to avoid her kicks. “Come on. One teeny, tiny, little forest god wouldn’t hurt. Would it?”

“It would.”

He sighed and flopped onto her back. “If you got her name, why are you pissy?”

“I’m not pissy,” she mumbled.

“You’ve flung yourself down dramatically onto your bed not once, but twice in less than five minutes.”

“Fine,” she groaned. “Cú and I got into another fight. It’s like, even after all this time, he’s obsessed with this Balor guy. Let it go. It’s not going to happen. And he was adamant about me not using the Gáe Bulg.”

“I could steal it for you.”

Brigid narrowed her eyes. “The fact you offered makes me think there are ulterior motives.”

Set grinned at her. “Well, if you must know, I predict you’ll prick yourself on the tip and thorns will rip you apart from the inside out. And while Fionn Mac Cumhaill and Cú Chulainn are panicking over your sudden death, I will be making away with a certain book of names.”

“As if,” Brigid said. “I’m a skilled warrior. I won’t prick myself.” She tucked the book under her body. “I need to get out of here. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life training for something that will never come. And why does it have to fall all on me anyway? Why can’t Cú and Fionn be the ones to deal with him? They’re the ones with all the stories. They have thousands of years of training. What can I bring to the table against a giant with a fire eye?”

“Tricks?” Set suggested.

“Yeah, right. I’m not sure if Balor is smart enough to be tricked. You have to have at least some level of intelligence to be fooled. You can’t trick a frog.”

“So, what’s your plan? Sneak out during the Beltane party?”

“Who says I have a plan?”

“You always have a plan,” Set said. “And, frankly, I’m down for being a bad influence. Where you go, so does chaos. I like that in a friend.”

“As if we’re friends. You’re using me because you think you’ll get the book one day.”

Set grinned at her. “Maybe I will. Now come on. Beltane, right? A lot of people will be here. You can sneak out, and they won’t know for hours.”

“No, that’s too easy. I need to distract them. Send them on a wild goose chase. I have a plan; I need to be patient and get them to agree to it,” she said.

Set let out a cackle and hopped back out the window. “I look forward to meeting you there,” he said.

Brigid lay back down, hoping this time she could relax with some peace and quiet. Sadly, the universe hated her and wanted her to entertain a constant string of visitors.

“Brigid, can I come in?” Fionn asked.

“Ugh, fine. What?” she said, rolling over as he stepped in the door.

“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” Fionn said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Fionn. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Fionn nodded. He kept taking sidelong glances without moving his head. He stuck the tip of his thumb in his mouth to bite on it. He could access wisdom, but only when the thumb was in his mouth. He must be at a loss for words if he was looking for divine wisdom on how to handle her.

“I know you’re bored with all this training,” he said carefully.

“No kidding. I’ve been doing the same thing since I was born.”

“Technically, we started you at four,” Fionn said.

Brigid glared at him.

“But, yes, I can see how you feel most of your life has been filled with the same basic activities. Especially now you’re out of school and don’t have that to break up the monotony of training. But we’re not doing this because we’re bad instructors,” Fionn said. “We’re doing this because we don’t want you to just defeat Balor. We want you to survive the encounter as well.”

“I know,” Brigid mumbled. She did know. “I mean, if you didn’t care about me, you’d strap a bomb to me and send me to blow up Balor.”

Fionn laughed, relaxing a tad. “Don’t joke about that. That was a legitimate idea we had for the champion back in the 1840s. Oh, that lad was a mess. I’ve never seen such bad hand-eye coordination in my life. A monkey could have done better.”

Fionn sat on the bed next to her. “We were glad when the next champion came along a few years later. Henrietta. She reminds me a lot of you, you know. She ran off from Ireland to fight for the Union during the American Civil War. We had to chase her, of course. And by the time we caught up, she had settled down with a young man and had a son. She made a career blowing up Confederate train tracks, if I remember correctly.”

“Is that why you guys didn’t want to teach me about explosives?”

“Partially.” Fionn winced. “Look, I know Cú has a hard time expressing it, but he does want you to survive and be the best you can be. That’s why we’re hard on you. That’s why we want you to be the best you can be.”

“I know,” she said. And she did know. She may not like to admit it or want to admit it, but deep down, Fionn and Cú did care whether she lived or died. Why would they spend all this time training her? The prophecy didn’t say she had to live. It said she had to defeat Balor.

It did hurt that she was going to trick them. But it was necessary. She needed to let them go before they let her go.

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