A Spark is Struck in Cruachan (The Chronicles of Pádraig Book 1)

by Bill Stackhouse

  Eamon snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?”

  “Yes. Go! And take a day to recuperate before returning. Meanwhile, I’ll tell the shire reeve that the defense forces are at his disposal for his search parties in the morning.”

  Willowday - Wolf 43rd

  Callainn Shire

  Ráth Callainn

  Squad Leader Eamon had mixed emotions about the abandon with which he had ridden to Fort Callainn that night, arriving at five bells into the first watch. He felt badly that he had pushed his horse so severely, but happy that it had not been Phelim. The blue roan stallion, he knew, would now be lying dead on the side of the road somewhere between Fort Callainn and Fort Árainn had he ridden him the way he did his new mount Niall, a four-year-old red dun stallion.

  But his orders had been clear—‘Don’t spare the horse.’ And he hadn’t.

  Jarlath, the head groom at Fort Callainn, had promised to personally see that Niall was rubbed down properly before being blanketed, watered, and fed.

  Now as the squad leader stood in the barracks headquarters office of the Cruachanian Defense Forces, having delivered his report to the captain, he listened as the officer grilled Parnell, Reeve of Callainn Shire.

  “You and your two deputies were the only ones who knew that the farrier’s apprentice was, in fact, the son of the High King?” the captain asked.

  “As far as I know, yes, sir.” The little stoat-faced man’s dark eyes moved incessantly.

  “And you shared this knowledge with no one else?”

  “Most certainly not!” Parnell answered, letting some indignation creep into his voice. “The prince swore me to secrecy.”

  “What about your two deputies?”

  “I’ve questioned them. They, too, swore to keep the information to themselves, and assured me that they had.” Anticipating the captain’s next question, the shire reeve continued. “And I believe them.”

  “Did they know that the prince was going from here over to Cairbrigh Shire instead of up to Árainn Shire?”

  Parnell thought back to the conversation he had had with Pádraig and Liam just before they left the fort, and replayed it in his mind:

  “I know it was touch and go there for a few moments; but, I dare say, your dimwitted-cousin impersonation was a brilliant move that diffused the tense situation. And Paddy played his part extremely well, too.”

  “Yeah. Indeed he did,” Liam replied.

  “I suppose the two of you are going to take your routine up to Ráth Árainn with you?”

  “Too far north for the time allotted to us,” Pádraig answered. “We’re going to head directly northeast across Callainn Shire and Cairbrigh Shire to Ráth Cairbrigh. Should be there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I found that out during a private conversation with Paddy and Prince Liam,” the reeve answered. “My deputies were not privy to that discussion. Although, I must confess, I’m not sure who else the farrier might have told.”

  The captain mulled over the report for a few seconds, then said, “This very well could be nothing more than a gigantic misunderstanding. Before they left Dúnfort Cruachan, the prince and the farrier told Lady Máiréad that they were going to Ráth Árainn. I suppose sometime after that, they could have changed their minds and decided on Ráth Cairbrigh, instead.”

  “But, sir,” Eamon spoke up. “What about the prince’s dirk in the possession of the murdered tanner?”

  “Yes. The dagger,” the captain said, with a slight scowl. “That’s a sticking point, isn’t it? It could be that the prince lost it along the way somewhere and the tanner found it. But we can’t be sure.” Again he considered the possibilities, then pointed to the elder of the other two members of the Cruachanian Defense Forces, a veteran of the War for Independence, who had been standing there with Parnell and Eamon. “Set out immediately for Ráth Cairbrigh. Top speed. We need to find out whether the prince is actually there.”

  “If he is?” the soldier with three winged stripes on his shoulder asked.

  “Have the captain there dispatch two riders. One back here and one to Ráth Árainn. Again, at top speed. We need to know as quickly as possible before we have deputies, security forces, and defense forces tripping over, and perhaps putting arrows into, each other out there in the woods.”

  The sergeant raised both an eyebrow and the palm of his hand.

  Correctly interpreting the unasked question, the captain replied, “And if the prince isn’t there, have the captain dispatch four riders. One back here, one to Ráth Árainn, one to Ráth Gabhrán, and one”—his shoulders slumped slightly, as he let out a small sigh—“one to Field Marshal Gearóid at Dúnfort Cruachan.”

  The sergeant grimaced, slightly, as he, too, realized the implication of telling the field marshal that the prince was missing.

  Pointing to the second soldier, the captain said, “Head up to Ráth Árainn without delay and let the captain there know what our plan is, and to expect a rider from Ráth Cairbrigh sometime late tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied.

  Waving a hand at the two soldiers, the captain at Ráth Callainn barked, “Get going! Now!”

  With a duet of “Yes, sir!” the two men left the barracks.

  “Get some sleep, squad leader,” the captain told Eamon. “Let your horse have tomorrow off, then head back to Ráth Árainn.”

  “That’ll work out fine, sir. My squad will actually be arriving here tomorrow evening. I’ll return with them the following day.”

  “All right, then. And, Eamon, good job tonight getting here as quickly as you did.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  When the squad leader had left the room, the captain looked up at Parnell. “I’ll talk to the garrison commander about the security forces. At first light tomorrow, I’d like to get as many eyes as we can spare checking out the forest between here and the Central Road at the northeast corner of the shire. Do I need to clear it with Chieftain Tierney for you and your deputies to join us?”

  “Not necessary, Captain. We’ll be more than happy to do whatever we can to help. But may I suggest you arrange blended search parties?”

  “Why so?”

  “First of all, me and my men know the woods better than either of the other forces. You’d do well to have one of us in each party. Plus, there’re those arrows that you mentioned. A bit of tension always exists between the security forces and defense forces. It would be a shame if an accident were to happen.”

  Recalling his dispute with Lorcan at Colm’s forge, he continued. “Also, I’m afraid we reeves can be very territorial. If a party should have to cross shire lines, it would be helpful to do so under the authority of the defense forces.”

  “Politics, politics,” the captain said with a groan. “But you’re right. Have your men ready in the ward at first light.”

  Alderday - Wolf 44th

  Central Federal Region

  Dúnfort Cruachan

  It was well into the morning watch of the next day when the messenger from Fort Cairbrigh had arrived at Dúnfort Cruachan with the news that Prince Liam and Pádraig had gone missing. By the time he had exited the room, after briefing High King Déaglán, Field Marshal Gearóid, and Arch-Wizard Faolan, the eight bells—four sets of two peals each—signaling the end of the morning watch and beginning of the forenoon watch had rung.

  “Ideas?” Déaglán asked, looking back and forth at the other two men.

  “It sounds like the defense forces, security forces, and shire reeves have the search plans well in hand, Your Majesty,” Gearóid replied. “I’ll send additional defense forces personnel to each of the garrisons in the Northern Shires to assist where needed.”

  Faolan stood and said, “Let me contact the other members of the Sodality. They need to be alerted to the situation so that they, their journeymen, and their apprentice wizards can start searching their own shires as well. Also, Finbar must be located and notified. When Gearóid came to get me,
we checked with the avener on the way over here. By his reckoning, Finbar should probably still be at the Ráth Iorras garrison. When I get in touch with the Sodality, I’ll have Master Taliesin break the news to him.”

  * * *

  The sun had not yet reached its high point, and Faolan, Arch-Wizard of Cruachan, had already assembled the Sodality of Master Wizards. On the top floor of his round tower within the confines of the citadel, the Guardian of the Green Stone sat at a round table. In front of him, a polished, green sphere glowed brightly. Equally spaced around the table were the manifestations of the other four members of the Sodality.

  Faolan had just completed his briefing, relating everything that the messenger from Fort Cairbrigh had reported about Liam’s and Pádraig’s disappearance, as well as the particulars on the searches that had begun at first light that morning in Cairbrigh, Árainn, Gabhrán, and Callainn Shires.

  “I’ll get word to Finbar as soon as we’re through here,” Taliesin, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Western Shires and Guardian of the Black Stone, said. “He’ll be on his way to Dúnfort Cruachan before the afternoon watch is over.”

  Fergal, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Eastern Shires and Guardian of the Blue Stone, spoke up. “From what you say, my brother, the prince and farrier are most likely somewhere within the confines of the Northern Shires. What would you have myself, brother Coinneach, and brother Taliesin do?”

  “Just keep your eyes and ears open, and have your journeymen and apprentices do the same. Though there may not be any sign of the lads in your areas, there may be chatter and gossip that contain pertinent information.”

  “As soon as this scry is broken, my brothers,” Odhran, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Northern Shires and Guardian of the Red Stone, said, “I’ll begin to contact not only all my journeymen and apprentices but my oblates, as well, and have them start searching every shire in the North. Hopefully, we’ll soon be able to provide the High King with some useful intelligence.”

  “Thank you, all,” Faolan said. “And may it please An Fearglas to bless our efforts.”

  After all five master wizards had finished the ritual act of submission, Faolan waved his hand over the green orb in front of him. As the glow dissipated from it, the manifestations of the other four members of the Sodality faded.

  Alderday - Wolf 44th

  Tulach Shire

  In the fifth-floor room of his round tower in Tulach Shire, Taliesin returned his black seeing-stone to its ancient wooden box, then crossed to one of the windows and whistled shrilly. He then stepped back out of the way, sat at the desk, and scrawled a note on a small piece of parchment.

  Within minutes, following a harsh shriek, a projectile of brown-and-white feathers came catapulting through the window. Once clear of the opening, the fish hawk spread its giant wings, quickly braking its flight and gliding to a T-shaped perch next to the desk. Closing its wings and shaking its feathers back into place, the bird cocked its head and looked at the old wizard. Its expression said: Reporting for duty.

  “Ahh, my feathered friend,” Taliesin said, smiling at the hawk. “Thank you for responding so quickly. I need to locate the farrier Finbar. More than likely he’s at Ráth Iorras. It is imperative that you find him and give him this.” Standing, the old man wiggled the rolled-up piece of parchment that he held in his hand.

  Obediently, the bird raised one talon and allowed the wizard to secure the parchment to its leg with a piece of twine.

  “This note is of extreme importance, my friend,” Taliesin cautioned the bird. “Don’t allow yourself to get sidetracked until it’s delivered. Now go!”

  The fish hawk sat there and switched its gaze from the wizard to a dish of honey-glazed, smoked salmon strips on the table.

  Taliesin shook his head and sighed, then gestured toward the dish. “Oh, yes, the bribe first. By all means.” When the bird had hopped from its perch to the table top and had helped itself to one of the salmon strips, the old wizard continued. “You are the laziest animal in the three kingdoms. Even though I know you prefer freshly caught salmon, a free smoked piece is so much less work, isn’t it?”

  The bird shrieked, plucked a second strip from the dish, then hopped up onto the window sill. After gobbling the piece of fish down, it leapt out into the sky, spread its wings, and headed northward, leaving nothing behind except another fading screech.

  Alderday - Wolf 44th

  Cairbrigh Shire

  With their breakfast of watery porridge and stale bread finished and the bowls and spoons collected, Pádraig retrieved his hoof-pick from the straw in the mattress and scratched another day into his makeshift calendar on the dirt floor. With no furnishings in the room except for the two thin mattresses, chamber pot, and water bucket, the boys figured that the only place their captors wouldn’t see the record was under one of their beds.

  Pádraig and Liam had set out from Fort Callainn on Oakday—the last day of the week and the fortieth day of the month of the Wolf—meeting Donnan the tanner and his wife Ranait later that evening. They had awoken imprisoned the next morning—Yewday. Now it was Alderday, their fourth day in captivity.

  So far, they had come in contact with only four, or possibly five, of their captors—the two who held swords to their throats each evening, while two others swapped out the bucket and pot. They were unsure whether the only voice they heard was one of the four or that of a fifth man in charge of the others. Periodically peering out the west window during the day, they had seen only two men tending to the horses in the corral. Again, they had no way of telling if those two were any of the four or two additional guards. Also, both of these men, one short and rather hefty, the other tall and thin, were dressed in leather with no identifying marks or emblems on their clothing. Accompanying the grooms were two wolfhounds that seemed to roam around at will.

  During their second day of imprisonment, Liam had magnanimously agreed that they would take turns peeking out the windows. This fourth morning was Pádraig’s turn to stand on the prince’s shoulders for their first surveillance operation of the day.

  “Still Porky and Slim with the horses and one of the dogs,” he remarked from atop Liam’s shoulders. “No one else—Hold on!” He craned his neck to look southward. “There’s something…I see a horse and rider approaching on a path! And he’s coming up fast!”

  “What’s he look like?” the prince asked. “Can you tell if he’s one of them?”

  “His tabard is dark-red. Oh, man, this is great, Liam He’s wearing the uniform of the Security Forces of the Kingdom of the Northern Shires. They’ve discovered we’re missing and he’s probably searching for us.”

  When he had initially spotted the horseman, something had felt slightly off to Pádraig. He had ignored the feeling, though, due to his joy at a possible rescue. Suddenly the reason for his unease dawned on him. Even with his enhanced aural sense, he had not heard horse and rider in advance of seeing them. Still now, as they galloped toward the compound, he couldn’t hear any hoof-beats.

  “Start yelling!” Liam shouted. “Try and get his attention!”

  “No! Be quiet!” Pádraig directed, as the rider reined in his mount alongside a boulder just short of the tree line surrounding the clearing.

  “What?! Shout, Paddy! Stick your arms through the bars and wave them at him. And shout at the top of your lungs!”

  “Be quiet!” Pádraig ordered once more. “There’s something wrong!”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s stopped. Just let me watch for a few moments longer.”

  The young farrier heard the wolfhound growl, and saw the two men in the corral quit what they were doing and turn toward the rider. While the horseman rode slowly in small circles near the boulder, one of the grooms took off at a run in the opposite direction, out of Pádraig’s sight. The second one ordered the dog to heel and crossed toward the horseman. However, there was no urgency in his step. And no sense of alarm, either.

  All
of a sudden, Pádraig sensed the magical spell that engulfed the compound suddenly dissipate. The horseman waved to the groom, acting as if he had just spotted him for the first time, then coaxed his horse through the tree line and across a small ford in the stream. Now the young farrier could plainly hear the splashing and hoof-beats. As soon as horse and rider entered the clearing, Pádraig felt the spell rematerialize.

  It’s a concealment spell, he realized. To keep anyone from seeing or hearing what goes on inside this section of the forest.

  “What’s happening?” Liam demanded. “Get down here and let me look.”

  Jumping down off Liam’s shoulders, Pádraig said, “Okay, but don’t draw attention to us. This rider may be a member of the security forces, but he’s in on the kidnapping.”

  “So shouting wouldn’t have done any good.” A dejected Liam delivered it as a statement rather than a question, pounding the wall with his fist as he did so.

  Seeing how upset his friend had become, Pádraig once again decided against telling him about the magical spell, lest it trouble him further. “It would only have alerted the guards to the fact that we were watching,” he said. “Come on. Have a look, yourself, if you’d like.”

  The prince shook his head in disappointment as he knelt back down on the floor. “No. Get back up there and see if those ears of yours can hear anything that’s being said.”

  Climbing back onto Liam’s shoulders, Pádraig concentrated his mind on the two men by the corral. Soon they were joined by the second groom, the second dog, and two other men.

  The first man, like the two grooms, was dressed in leather, but he had the bearing of a soldier and appeared to be in charge. The sight of the man with him, however, sent a sudden chill up Pádraig’s spine. Dressed in a blue tunic with a broad skirt, over a pair of brown, baggy breeches that had the excess material gathered in brown leg-wrappings from knee to foot, he wore a rust-colored wool cloak. Blond braids hung down the side of his weathered face from beneath a white, knit pointed cap.