Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1)

by Christopher Lee

  “I’ve never been to Tara,” she said. “Father tells me this is where she made us. Where she birthed him and gave him his charge to lead her armies against Atum. Here is where the resistance against his tyranny began. I hope that by coming here I can reach a point of balance as my father has. A place where I can see the value of harmony between man and the Fae. I do not trust man as he does, I am more inclined to believe as the Morrighan does. If this land could give him that peace, perhaps it can save the lot of us. It is hallowed ground Trog.”

  “I’m not sure I belong on such holy ground, being a son of the Ironwood,” he said.

  “Trog, I did not mean you. I know you are half man, but you I trust. I don’t understand why I do, but I do. It’s my Fathers doing, always trying to turn my heart towards forgiving them. He says it’s what my mother would have wanted.”

  She stopped and looked at the waves spray upon the bow. Lugh placed his hand on hers. “Do you miss her?”

  “I never had the chance to know her, all I have are the memories that my father keeps.”

  “I am sorry,” said Lugh. “I know the pain of losing a parent.”

  She shook her head, “It is no matter. Listen, if you will be of service to this house you need to realize that whatever past you had is now behind you. I don’t care where you came from, what you have done, or what your father did. What matters now is how you act to serve the greater good. I know the Fae seem like we are a bunch of highborn fools, but we live to serve a higher purpose. You may be only half Fae, but the heart is not half Fae or half man. It is what you do with it that makes you who you are.”

  Lugh could not fathom the wisdom coming from her mouth. He had spent so long running from his past for fear of being associated with the sins of his father. He had not once stopped to think of who he wanted to be.

  “My life has ever been a series of unfortunate events, Arabella. Because of that I have always looked on life as something that happens to me. I guess I never stopped to contemplate how I might use this time to forge my own path. I’ve spent years just running from who I am. Who I could be if I only had the courage to face the consequences of who the world thinks I am.”

  He looked into her eyes. Compassion coursed through her look. “Who are you Trog? Who do you want to be?”

  He stopped to ponder the question. “I’m not sure I’ve never been asked that question before. I’ve always been told who I am. The son of a traitor, a descendent of the Ironwood. I suppose I’d like to be someone who fights for a better world. A world where people are known for what they’ve done, not what blood runs through their veins. Where the disparate parts of my heritage lived in harmony.”

  “If only there were more people with that aim, that world might be possible.” she said.

  He smiled. “You are quite the impressive person Princess. I don’t think I have ever come across anyone like you.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “It’s a good thing I assure you,” he paused. “I’m used to the rougher side of the world. Thieves, brigands, hard drinking fools. I’ve not realized that part of me was never invested in that life. That I wanted something more out of life. Until I met you.”

  Arabella received his words with a smile and then she leaned in to kiss him. The cold walls of his heart fall to her. Their lips locked in an exchange of delicate intimacy. For a moment Lugh perceived the weight of his life fall away. She’d bewitched him mind, body, and soul. When she pulled away, he felt emboldened by their intimate connection.

  “Arabella I,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

  As the words left his lips Dagda, and the Morrighan walked onto the deck. His eyes must have betrayed him. They approached him and the Princess, but they were not alone. Lugh straightened up and bowed to Dagda and the Morrighan.

  “Great King, Lady Morrighan, who is our blue-skinned guest?” asked Lugh.

  “This is the druidess Birog, she is one of our greatest allies within the Nemeton,” said the Morrighan.

  His stomach was in his feet. His head whirled with the possibilities. Did Birog tell them? Had she betrayed him or was this a game to make him squirm?

  “Birog is it?” he bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, the name is Trog.”

  “Trog?” Birog said as she smiled. “I thought Trog to be dead, was he not killed in the battle of the broken tower?”

  “Aye, I believe he was,” said Dagda as he grinned. “My spear went straight through him from loins to throat, if I remember. Imagine my surprise when he showed up in my reports years later, performing feats of unparalleled skill.”

  “Father what is this about?” asked Arabella.

  “The half-blood is not who he says he is,” said the Morrighan.

  Birog had betrayed him. Confusion manifested itself in his mind as he could not comprehend why he was not already in shackles, tossed over board, or pulling a blade from his gut. He could sense the panic taking hold of him.

  “What does she mean Trog?” Arabella asked.

  Lugh’s head drooped in shame, “My name is not Trog.”

  “You impersonated a hero? Why would you do such a thing? Is this all a joke to you?”

  “I did not impersonate a hero. The tales of Trog are my own, only I do not share his name.” said Lugh. “I came because I believe I can help your father’s house. I, I’d do anything to regain your trust. Anything, name it.”

  Arabella ground her teeth, “What is your name trickster? Give it and I may spare your life.”

  Lugh looked at her with shame in his eyes, “My name is Lugh.”

  “Lugh? The son of Cian?” said Arabella. “This is the son of the man responsible for my mother’s death.”

  “The Queen Boann?” said Lugh quizzically. “But she died in childbirth.”

  “Only because your Father’s treachery deprived her of my Father’s care.” Arabella moved to draw her blade. “And you dare to come here, to deceive me, and then to make me look the fool for falling for your ridiculous advances.”

  “Arabella I was about to tell you. I… It wasn’t all a lie... I’m not proud of who I am!” he lamented. He watched as her face turned from confusion to anger. Her disdainful looks shot daggers into his heart. “My King, my oath still stands, whether my name be Trog or Lugh. Mercy and a chance to prove myself to your family and to your daughter, whom I have gravely wounded and as such have committed a sin unto my own heart. For I would no more hurt her than I would hurt you Great King. I would die for her and for you. For our people. Name the price of my deception, I will accept your judgment.”

  “I have quite a few ideas,” said Arabella.

  Lugh fell to his knees hoping his words had reached the heart of at least one of them. He hung his head. Their emotions pulsed, he perceived Arabella’s most of all. Then he felt the hand of the King upon his head.

  “Rest easy great nephew. I would not have more of my blood spilled this day, not as we reach the sacred isle.”

  Lugh raised his head. He could tell both Arabella and the Morrighan were as perplexed by the response as he was.

  “Rise Lugh, son of Cian and Ethlinn the heir to the Caer of Ironwood Keep and my great nephew. Stand, stand before me and let me look upon you.”

  Lugh stood.

  Dagda raised Lugh's chin and looked deep into his eyes. Lugh was alarmed by the power within Dagda, his red irises pulsed with primordial essence. Lugh sensed the Dagda swimming in his blood, searching for answers.

  “I see in you great potential Lugh. Potential to lead our people towards a new future.” said Dagda. “Will you realize that potential? Will you stand before me and give me your true oath as Lord of the Ironwood to uphold peace, justice, and prosperity for your people and all people?”

  “By my breath, by my blood, and by my bone I will Great King.” said Lugh.

  It was then that Lugh felt something he had never felt. Pride. He had spent so many years in shame and guilt. Laugh feared what Dagda would do to him. He ha
d never stopped to think his great uncle would’ve welcomed him like this. He had let fear separate him from the only family he had left in the world.

  Birog approached him. “I told you, your path forward lied in Formene.”

  Arabella and the Morrighan did not appear as pleased as Birog and Dagda.

  “Father, I’m not clear on what in helfire is going on here? But I would sure like some damn answers.” Lugh could feel the sweet sting of her rage upon his heart.

  “I believe you and Birog owe everyone here an explanation,” said the Morrighan. “The boy needs to know why he is still breathing.”

  “Boy?” countered Lugh.

  “Quiet boy, lest you aggravate another woman. Trust me three against one are not favorable odds, no matter who you are.” said Dagda. He put his hand on his shoulder. “In a few hours time we will make the harbor at Tara. You’ve seen Fomor and Hyperborea, two homelands of your heritage. But where you belong where you heart will always lie is on the hallowed shores of Eíre. When your father fell in battle, he asked me to promise him you would see them. He was an honorable man before he was led astray. Until he fell under the spell of that Penitent fanatic.”

  “Ubara?” questioned the Morrighan.

  Dagda nodded. “I’ve long known Cian fell to both love and hate. His rebellion was born of my own foolishness. Had it not been for my blindness I might have not had to wait twenty-two name days to greet my great nephew. I might have greeted you not as Trog, but who you were born to be.”

  “And who is that?” asked Arabella. “Because I am not sure who this man is?”

  Lugh hung his head, but he saw Dagda come to his defense by looking sternly at the princess.

  “The love between your father and mother was not as arranged as the history has stated. He loved her long before the marriage was proposed by my hand to King Balor. Balor and I have thought intermarriage between the Fomorii and the Tuatha would breed a bridge between our two worlds. A bridge like you Lugh. In my folly I believed Balor held the same dream. Not long after you were born he became convinced that any progeny born of Cian and Ethlinn would be a threat to his throne. I know not by whose mouth the prophecy was spoken, but I always believed it to be the influence of Ubara Tutu. A man I allowed to live. When I heard he planned to toss you into the sea, I intervened. Balor could not be convinced to stay his hand. To prevent war between men and the Fae I cast you into the sea and made a bargain with the one eyed King. It was the only way I could save your life. After your loss, I received word that your mother hung herself from the tower where Balor had kept her.” he paused and gripped Lugh’s shoulders. “I owe you an apology great nephew. Had I been more cautious your father, your mother, our Queen might still be alive today. Had I been more careful with the hearts of men, you both might have had a different life.”

  The weight of it all came crashing down onto Lugh. So much of his past had been withheld from him. He could tell Dagda was telling him the truth, but he felt a pang of anger within his heart. He was unsure of whom to blame. There was Balor who wanted him dead. Ubara who planned it, his mother and father who failed to protect him, and his great uncle the King who tossed him into the arms of the waves to be cast about on the shores of life without a rudder or sail. Lugh’s vision darkened, and he fell to one knee.

  He braced himself on his knee, “I am sorry Arabella. I… I didn’t know...”

  “Father if you knew this why then did you allow his charade to continue?” then she looked at Lugh. “Don’t think for one second I haven’t forgotten.”

  Lugh looked at her in disbelief. “Really? After what you just heard?”

  “The lad doesn’t quite know the pain of a scorned woman, let alone the stinging bite of a fairy scorned. Don’t worry lad you will learn.” said Dagda.

  “Dagda,” said the Morrighan. “You owe them both an answer.”

  “I allowed Lugh to believe this, because I needed to see if he could handle what I must ask of him.”

  “And what is that precisely?” asked Arabella.

  “Majesty, If I may?” said Birog. “By my hand was the baby rescued and kept from Balor’s eye. For twenty-two years have I kept him safe, that he may fulfill his noble destiny. I raised you, made sure you were never without a bed and food. I let you go your own way and explore what you needed to explore. But I call you home now. To your next great adventure. I implore you to accept what the King offers you. It is the gateway to realizing the future I know you want to provide.”

  “If you will all follow me.” said Dagda.

  Dagda pushed his robes behind him and walked from the deck to the King’s cabin. “Please sit,” he said as he pointed to the roundtable. The Morrighan, Lugh, and Princess Arabella sat, along with an entourage of scribes, messengers, and the majordomo. At the center of the table was an immense cauldron filled with shimmering water. Dagda waved his hand above the surface of the water and from its misty surface, a picture of the outer world appeared. Millions of souls crowded the roads and ports of both man and the Fae.

  “Pilgrims of every race, flag, and creed walk in reverence to her holy grace. To the divine city of Tara. The same place in which all sitting here will enter at the day’s end. This year as the sun approaches its pinnacle in the sky, not only the Fae will join in the revelry of her great and divine will. Man will too. The Nemeton has sent word to every corner of the earth, and every dominion under the sun. A Conclave will be held beginning on the night that the Beltane fires are lit from the hilltops. Man and Fae alike will send their bravest, most courageous warriors to undergo an ancient rite that has not been enacted for many thousands of years. I have been ordered by the Nemeton to sacrifice one of my blood.”

  Arabella stood, “Father I am ready to represent your name, your house, and our people in this most sacred ritual.”

  She was ready. Lugh knew it, but he also knew it would take more than preparation to survive. It would take luck, and the guiding hand of fate. He recalled what he had seen in her eyes just before they kissed. Though he saw greatness in her future, he did not see her as an immortal tied to the will of the Goddess. In fact he doubted that her father wanted that for her. Then he realized. The deception, the way the King had allowed him to continue his charade. It all made sense.

  “Great King of Hyperborea and High King of all the Fae. Uncle I beg your permission to allow me to serve as the champion to your noble house. May my sword be yours, my shield be yours, my life is forfeit unto your great name. That I might reclaim the glory that once belonged to my father’s name.”

  Arabella stood in defiance, “We’ve no time for the grand gestures of a man. I will serve as tribute father. I will not fail, I will submit myself unto her will…”

  “It is your place to serve as heir to your father and his kingdom!” challenged Lugh. His voice was pointed and contested the arrogance of the Princess, drawing the ire of the Morrighan’s eyes.

  “You will both be silent!” boomed the Dagda. “It is my decision to make, and mine alone.”

  Arabella sat down and Lugh followed suit. He could see the King was torn. If he refused his daughter's offer to serve as tribute, he would save her the burden of the Oath and the trials, but he would be long held in disdain and further enhance the ideological gap between himself and his heir. Lugh well knew of her reservations against mankind. She believed as the Morrighan and the rest of the Nemeton that man was fatally flawed. That part of him was flawed. They could not see past their own blinding distrust of mankind. Suddenly, Lugh felt as the King did. Alone in a quest to see the Mother’s divine will be realized, of a world where man and Fae lived without conflict.

  “My dear daughter, I must do what I can to protect you and provide an heir for our people.” said Dagda.

  He had made his decision and cut at his daughter’s heart. Arabella stormed out of the room, and the Morrighan shot him a look that fell like daggers before following the princess. He had just severed the brief connection he held with Arabella. In that moment
he knew a part of what the King must have been feeling.

  Lugh sat in his chair and a heavy weight upon his shoulders.

  “I am honored by the gift you have given me Great King.”

  Dagda shook his head in disbelief.

  “It is no gift I grant you, Great Nephew, no gift at all.”

  His words fell heavy upon Lugh.

  “You must be ready to begin your training by nightfall. We have little time to prepare you. You will travel with the royal caravan to Tara, and there you will see firsthand the “gift” I have given you.”

  Lugh approached the King, “Majesty, does the Princess speak the truth? Did my father kill Queen Boann?”

  Dagda sighed, “We believe what we must. To protect ourselves from disappointment. It is no different for Arabella then for you. It is an unfortunate truth that children often pay for the mistakes of their parents.”

  “Majesty, I do not follow,” said Lugh.

  Dagda turned to him, “Your father was a good Fae. His heart was broken as so many are in trying times. Arabella blames who she believes responsible, as do I. Boann was fading as Arabella came into this world, her power was too great for her mother to bear. Had I been there I might have saved her. ”

  “So it was the fault of Cian.”

  “The fault is my own.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arabella, the Princess of Hyperborea

  Arrogance and pride do guard,

  Victory from the eager bard,

  Let go all forms of self-regard.

  Arabella watched the training yard below. In its center, the braggart Lugh sparred with the Goibniu her father’s Master at Arms. Goibniu lunged and Lugh parried. The clashing of steel rang in the air. Sweat dripped off brows and hot breath was expelled.

  “Lunge, counter, parry, strike,” called Goibniu. “Good, again.”