Gangway's End

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles and A Sword for Wellington. It now concludes with A Shattering of Souls. New here? This is a Regency-set fantasy romance adventure with shapeshifting sea dragons, where our cast search for Arthurian treasures to save the world from ecological collapse. Save this post, go subscribe (you’ll get the first two seasons in an e-book) and then have a binge read of the rest. You deserve it.

A little reminder that sources will be listed in bold. There are dates included as well, as I have needed to go back and forth in time to pick up the threads of someone’s part in this story due to the fact that we have multiple journals in play this time around.

What Happened Last Week:

For some reason, Mr. Wareham thinks Dr. Pelletier is his sister. Luned met with her captain for their first assignation and um, it does not go well. The captain is married and the wife wants him back. Luned is devastated.

From Interviews with a Prophet

Q: You thought Dr. Pelletier was your sister. What happened after that?

I wanted to dive off the end of the pier and get word to Cychwr as soon as possible but too many people would witness it. I couldn’t leave without trying to learn more about this supposed doctor but I got side-tracked with confirming Luned had a Chosen Mark. Then we were interrupted by her lover.

I left and headed for the beach. The north end is very secluded, perfect for coming and going in dreigiau môr form.

Q: You leave your clothing on the beach?

The prophet shakes his head.

Because we kept needing to go ashore in our search for Ondine, one of our kind developed a waterproof bag from several kinds of seaweed woven together. It straps across our chest, which we loosen and tighten before and after metamorphosis. It holds all my clothing, papers, boots, plus a change of linen should I need it.

Shall I continue? I returned to Caer Morgana to find Cychwr not at home. We schedule regular check-ins so I had a rare few days of leisure. I spent them communing with the Goddess and—

Q. Did Cychwr return? How did he react?

Young lady, you are quite impatient. Allow me to tell you.

I haunted Cychwr’s house on the day he was due to return. His steps slowed when he saw me and my rather grim expression. :What’s happened?:

My gills flared to consume more air. :I think I’ve found her. Only, she doesn’t recognise me.:

Cychwr grabbed my upper arms, shaking me. :When? Where?:

:Not here. Let’s go somewhere quiet.: I steered him away from the house he shared with his parents and his son. Ondine’s son.

We found a drinking establishment, ordering medd reismôr. The wide cups sat on the calcified table, untouched.

:Tell me.:

:She goes by the name Corinne Pelletier and serves in the British navy as a ship’s surgeon. She didn’t recognise me, or her own name. She didn’t even respond when I thought at her. It’s like … it’s like she is no longer draig môr.:

:You weren’t mistaken?:

:She’s my sister … and she has the Chosen Mark.:

Cychwr covered his face, elbows braced against the table. I allowed him to process the news, sipping on his medd reismôr. At length, he met my waiting gaze. :We should speak with Chief Healer Derfel. He might know what afflicts her. Then I need to see her.:

:She might not remember you,: I warned. It had hurt to be received as a stranger.

Cychwr’s shoulders straightened. :If she does not remember you, I fully expect the same.: His mouth set in a grim line.

From Miss Luned Murray’s Journal:

14^th February, 1819

Dawn. I watched the strengthening sunlight catch the waves and burn away the last of the morning mist.

“Looking for the sea monster, Miss Murray?” a voice called.

I twisted to look over my shoulder. Mr. Alan Marsh, my least favourite crew member. “Sod off, Marsh!” I called back. “If you’re looking for the lady ghost, she’s supposed to be further along.” I pointed north at the cliffs, only accessible at low tide.

I wiped my face and rose, shaking sand out of my skirts.

The ocean view arrested me—it could be so easy to lose myself in her wildness and beauty. She had accompanied me through my night of grief. I fancied she sent me consolation and a promise that the nights would not always be that lonely.

“Captain wants us to depart once we’re all aboard.”

I inhaled the sea air, letting it expand my lungs. Out beyond the rocks, something splashed in the ocean. My gift kicked in, even though a fish or dolphin probably caused the sound. I stilled. My gift identified a human. I strained to see a head or arms, but nothing broke the surface. I concentrated on my gift’s sensing—human and yet not. How was this possible?

I shuddered and hastened to follow Mr. Marsh back to the Acheron.

From Dr. Corinne Pelletier’s Diary:

20^th February, 1819

Some instinct tells me to bury this writing. If magic existed, I would hide this with a spell. I have to get the words out, but I do not want my love to read them. I do not want him to be hurt. If my crewmates saw, they might fear for my safety, yet neither of them presented any danger.

A week ago, a strange man called out a name and expected it to be mine.

Ondine.

My beloved cried out the same name whilst caught in a waking nightmare.

Ondine.

It’s an uncommon name. Who is this woman? I resemble her? I must.

Today, we landed in Dover. The strange man waited for me at the gangway’s end. A stocky, broad-shouldered man stood next to him, his coat straining to contain his muscular form. The two men looked like they might be brothers. Both tall, lithe. Their warm-hued skin stood out by virtue of being clean, rather than smudged with dirt.

I looked for my love, but couldn’t see him.

The stranger tipped his battered hat in greeting. “Forgive me, but I hope my friend will jog your memory.”

I can only recall the last three years of my life. “I am not the one you are looking for.”

The second man grimaced as if in pain. I restrained the urge to scan him for what ailed him. “You don’t remember me.”

“No.” I softened the word with an apologetic smile.

His golden skin paled. He bit a trembling lower lip. “We don’t wish to frighten you, miss—”

“Doctor,” I corrected.

His smile wavered, weakened. “You’ve always been a healer,” he murmured, edging closer. I tilted my head to look up at him.

“You have the wrong person.” I spoke with the same soft tones. He grieved his lost one, but would he react with violence if he refused to accept his error?

Ondine. Her name rang in my head. Not in my beloved’s voice, or the stranger’s, but in this man’s voice. I gave my head a little shake. His voice tugged at my heart. Why, when it had not done so when I heard him speak with my ears? “Who are you?” I covered my heart with a hand, willing it to calm.

“You heard me?” He leaned forwards, his face alight with hope.

“You said I was a healer. Of course I heard you.”

“Is there somewhere we might sit and talk?” the first stranger interrupted. “A tea shop perhaps. Your crew aren’t looking favourably upon this conversation.”

“We look out for each other.” I straightened. “I may be in an unconventional role, but I am still a lady. I will see you before I meet my fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” The second man covered his mouth with a shaking hand.

“One who I am pledged to wed.” I lied. Stating another man’s claim seemed the gentlest method of removing unwanted male attention. Better if he’d turned up, but we had docked early.

Luned descended the gangway in civilian dress like myself. She nudged my shoulder. “Apologies for being late, but I believe your very rich soon-to-be husband is treating us to a shopping spree?”

The second man’s face turned even paler and then suffused with colour. “On…Ondine,” he stuttered. “Please. It’s me, Cychwr.” His name sounded like it lacked vowels.

Luned tucked her arm into mine. “Shall we?”

Ondine.

That name again. I swallowed, managed a nod. Together, Luned and I escaped the two strangers, aided by the arrival of a couple of deckhands.

The pier behind us, I bumped my shoulder against hers. “Thank you, Luned. I feared how that would end.” I examined her profile. “You know one of them, do you not?”

She bobbed a nod, glancing over her shoulder. “He is a slight acquaintance. I wonder who this Ondine is that they are looking for and why they think it’s you.”

“We must look similar.” I never spoke about my past, or lack thereof, with Luned. “As you are not close, I dare not ask—”

“Ask anyway.” Luned hugged my arm.

“Find out who this Ondine is to them. The second man, Cychwr—” The name fell smoothly from my lips. “—said I—or she—was a healer. That’s such an unusual term.”

“Almost like he described a Gift,” Luned mused, her gaze drifting to the haberdasher’s window. “I am certain Mr. Wareham will find me soon enough, but what do you plan to do with the information?”

“I am not even sure I want to know it,” I confessed. “My heart pains for them and their tragic loss. So many of us were taken by force. It gives me hope that someone looks for us too.”

Luned frowned. “I doubt it. My family could never afford that—”

“They do not look like they can afford it either. Maybe we can help. A healer, who looks like me. We can ask around.”

She gazed at me, glad, I think, of the distraction from her own woes. “I best do that. It would not do to give them false hopes, or make your man jealous. Are you really engaged to him?”

I pursed my lips. “I just said that to get rid of them. The way the second one, Cychwr, looked at me… He made me uncomfortable.”

Luned stopped. Passersby jostled our shoulders.“Corinne, be careful. Men can be—”

Smiling, I patted her hand. “It’s different with him. We have been together for years. There is no one else for him. We are bound more deeply than any marriage tie.”

“What stops him? What if there is a child?” Luned looked like she voiced her own fears. I knew something had happened between her and the captain and I wondered if he had rejected her.

“There’s been no child yet.” My smile grew thin. “And it has been years.”

From Eidothea’s Diary:

13^th February, 1819

Sir Hugh and Gwenddydd have extended an invitation to Jasper and I to stay with them in his brother’s London townhouse.

I have not been able to face writing in my journal. Writing means acknowledging all that has happened and all that I have failed to do.

I do not wish to look back, I only wish to look forward. I do not know if I will ever see Ondine again, but at least I know she still lives although I sense nothing else through our bond.

She is as cut off as Llyr had been when he shielded from me soon after our bonding all those years ago, walling himself off until all I could sense was that he lived. Knowing Ondine lives is hope enough.

Llyr has dimmed our bond, but not completely. Bursts of hope have radiated down the bond, along with frustration and grief. I can only assume his search is ongoing: both for Ondine and the final member of our Chosen Court.

My task is now greater—to find and free those dreigiau môr and humans that have been taken.

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