The Embers are Fanned in Cruachan (The Chronicles of Pádraig Book 2)

by Bill Stackhouse

  She had even worn one of her most fashionable outfits for the occasion—a dark-blue dress with a white girdle, white slippers, and, around her head, a circlet of finest silver. Although she thought that it clashed with her attire, still, she wore the red mantle of an apprentice wizard. Over her shoulders, she had fastened a dark-blue ruana, edged with black unending knotwork. Her long and curly flame-red hair spilled out from under the ermine-fur trim on the hood.

  “Honored Madam,” a voice called out.

  Máiréad turned to her left.

  The Revered Álmhath, the senior journeyman wizard in Iorras Shire, bustled up to her, gray cloak billowing as she scurried. “We weren’t sure what time you’d be arriving, My Lady,”—Álmhath ran a hand through her unkempt brown hair, then gestured around the ward—“hence the absence of a greeting party. But here I am, greeting party, such as I am. Come, come,” she said, her brown eyes twinkling, “the Most Venerable Faolan is expecting you.”

  “I was hoping to see Prince Liam. Is he not here at the dúnfort?”

  “All in good time, My Lady. First, the Arch-Wizard, then, the prince.”

  While Aednat, Máiréad’s lady’s maid, and two other maids saw to the luggage, Álmhath escorted the apprentice wizard to Faolan’s round tower.

  * * *

  In his reception hall, Faolan, Arch-Wizard of Cruachan, rose from the long table to greet Máiréad. Although not as old as either Taliesin or Coinneach, his hair, beard, and mustache matched the pure-white color of both his brother wizards; however, he wore his hair at shoulder length and kept his beard trimmed to about three inches long.

  “You have done well,” he said to her, as the two approached each other. “The Revered Pádraig has told us of your heroism in effecting his release from Odhran’s dungeon.”

  “Revered?” Máiréad asked, somewhat taken aback.

  “Indeed. Pádraig’s personal success in heading off an all-out war and brokering this peace deal has earned him his blue mantle. But that success is as much yours as it is his, Revered Madam.” Faolan stepped aside and gestured to the long table. A blue mantle had been laid out at its foot. “I think blue is a much better color for you, anyway, don’t you?”

  The young wizard ran to the table, doffing her ruana as she did so. After removing the red mantle and donning the blue one, she turned to the Arch-Wizard. “A much better color,” she agreed, smiling broadly. “Thank you so very much, Most Venerable Sir.”

  Faolan held up a hand. “No thanks are necessary. After all, it’s not a gift, Máiréad. Your courage and bravery under the most adverse of circumstances has earned you this mantle, plus the thanks of all Cruachanians. Come, sit, and tell me what all has happened since Pádraig left Cathair Béarra. And just let me say how pained I was to hear about Kyna and Eógan.” He intentionally avoided using the word, ‘sorry.’

  “I…I have not heard anything about…about my da, Most Venerable Sir. He…he, too, has been killed?”

  “In the fighting that occurred when the dwarf army retook Ráth Callainn from the rebel forces.”

  “Please believe me when I say that I had absolutely no idea what my parents were involved in.”

  The master wizard put his arm around her shoulders and said, “Pádraig has made that abundantly clear to everyone. Now, please sit, and let us talk for a while.”

  * * *

  After Máiréad supplemented the Arch-Wizard’s knowledge of the events after Pádraig had left Fortress Béarra, Faolan walked her over to the keep.

  There, at the head of the long table in the great hall, sat Déaglán, High King of Cruachan, dressed in full ceremonial regalia. Seated to his right, Liam also wore his formal finest.

  As Máiréad entered the great hall, followed by Faolan, she smiled brightly at the site of Liam and ran to greet him. The meeting turned out to be less than what she had expected.

  The prince rose from his stool. Unemotionally, he extended his arms, not to hug the young woman, but to take her by the shoulders and purposely avoid her embrace.

  The newly-appointed journeyman wizard was somewhat taken aback and it showed on her face.

  “Congratulations, Revered Madam,” Déaglán said, rising and pointing her to the stool on his left side. “A blue mantle rightly earned in the service to king and country.”

  When she had crossed around both prince and king and had taken the proffered stool, Faolan sat on the one to her left.

  In front of the High King were the Articles of Capitulation. Déaglán pushed them past Máiréad to the Arch-Wizard, saying, “Although you, no doubt, are familiar with some of the details of the treaty between the Confederation and the Kingdom of the Northern Shires, which allows us to put this ugly outbreak of rebellion behind us, it is well that you know all the specifics. Let me say that we worked long and hard on the particulars to assure that any hard feelings that the citizens of the Northern Shires have harbored over the years have been put to rest; and, that the terms of this document are not so severe as to open up any new wounds.”

  “I’m sure you have, Your Majesty,” Máiréad replied.

  “Master Faolan,” the High King continued, “will you please go over each of the terms in these articles for the Lady Máiréad?”

  Without any preamble, the Arch-Wizard began, taking each term one-by-one.

  Máiréad listened intently as Faolan spoke, only stopping to ask a question when he came to the article about journeyman wizards in the Northern Shires being permanently demoted to apprentice wizards.

  “Excuse me, Most Venerable Sir, but two of the journeyman wizards from Béarra Shire, Neasán and Labhrás were instrumental in helping Paddy and me in the release of the imprisoned defense forces and taking over Cathair Béarra. Without their assistance, we might not have been able to stop the insurrection.”

  “The Revered Pádraig made that same argument when we were crafting this document,” Déaglán told her. “I overruled him then, as I am overruling you now. Both these journeymen, although having a change of heart, started out as willing members of the rebellion and, in so doing, knowingly violated the first tenet of wizardry.”

  Máiréad said nothing in return, vowing to again bring up the matter of a dispensation for the two journeymen, once a suitable amount of time had passed.

  She continued to listen as Faolan read. However, when he came to the last article, the one announcing the betrothal of the Princess Teagan to Liam, she began to tremble slightly.

  Faolan stopped and said, “We felt that we needed to take positive steps to make the citizens of the Northern Shires feel that they were no longer the forgotten sons and daughters of Cruachan. This union will unite the houses of Seamus and Conlaoch forever.”

  Máiréad’s green eyes narrowed, the blood drained from her alabaster skin, making it appear even whiter. As she raised her gaze from the tabletop, Liam, sitting across from her, refused to look directly at her.

  “Do you understand why this provision is so important?” Déaglán asked. “It is the key to assuring that the rebellion and the Northern Alliance never again raises its ugly head. This was not an easy decision, my dear. But finally, the Revered Pádraig convinced us that it was in everyone’s long-term interest to include it in the articles. ‘Peace through union,’ I believe was the phrase he used.”

  The Revered Pádraig convinced you? she thought. Balling her hands into fists to keep herself from hurling an energy bolt across the table, she said, very softly, “I understand, Your Majesty. Peace through union. I understand fully. If that’s all, may I be excused now?”

  “You may,” the High King answered. “I know that you are hurt by this decision, and I’m truly sorry about that; but, in time, I hope you’ll come to see it as the correct one.”

  Máiréad rose from her stool. Ignoring Liam, she bowed to Déaglán, then to Faolan, and strode from the room, hands still balled into fists.

  * * *

  Once outside the keep, Máiréad marched directly, and with deliberation, acr
oss the ward to the citadel’s forge, hoping to confront Pádraig. Instead of knocking, she released an energy burst that knocked the door off its hinges and hurled it completely across the room where it crashed against the back wall. Although she could readily see that the forge was unoccupied, and had been for some time, that did not diminish Máiréad’s wrath. With blazing spears of energy flowing from the palms of both hands, she torched the building until it was completely engulfed in flames.

  Walking back toward the keep, she ignored the soldiers who were running with buckets from the well-head to the forge, attempting to douse the blaze before any adjacent buildings caught fire. Next on her list of confrontations would be her former betrothed.

  * * *

  Máiréad climbed the staircase to the second floor of the keep, and stomped down the corridor directly to Liam’s quarters. She figured that, after the meeting with the High King and Arch-Wizard, the prince would have retreated there to keep a low profile in order to escape her fury.

  If you truly believe that, she thought, you deserve an airhead like Teagan for a wife.

  The newly-appointed journeyman wizard pounded three times on the oak door with the palm of her hand.

  The knock went answered.

  “Don’t make me break it down,” she called out with malice in her voice.

  After another five seconds, Liam opened the door halfway and was met with a one-handed shove that knocked him back about a rod, causing him to stumble.

  Máiréad, green eyes blazing, followed him, slamming the door behind her, crossing to him, where she again shoved him backward.

  “You couldn’t even show me the courtesy of explaining to me in private what you had agreed to?” she hissed. “You had to use your da and the Most Venerable Faolan to cover for you?”

  She pushed him again.

  This time he tripped, falling onto the bed.

  “I never had a chance to agree or to disagree,” he said, raising his arms in submission while trying to keep the whimper out of his voice. “It was a done deal, already decided by my da and agreed to by Ríoghán, before I was ever told of it.”

  “And Paddy is the one who broached this deal to the High King?”

  The prince looked down at the stone block floor and nodded.

  “And what about now, Liam. What do you think about it now?”

  Still not looking up, Liam sighed and said, “Sometimes you do things you don’t necessarily want to do for the sake of the greater good.”

  “The greater good,” Máiréad repeated without any emotion whatsoever. “You taught him well, Liam. I remember the day you said that very thing to Paddy. Your da was hosting a reception dinner for King Cabhan, I believe. Well, I hope this greater good will be a comfort to you in the coming years.”

  “Meig—”

  “Don’t even try,” she interrupted, her voice laced with disdain.

  Regarding her former betrothed, sitting on the edge of his bed looking like a whipped dog, her anger toward him abated somewhat, and she thought, Did I really want to marry this man out of love? Or was it the power and status that it would afford me. She then recalled her thoughts from long ago:

  She had been thinking about what would happen to her parents when Déaglán passed over and Liam was crowned King of the Western Shires and moved back into Fortress Tulach.

  Not only had Máiréad assumed that she would one day become Liam’s court wizard, but it seemed inevitable that she and Liam were destined to marry.

  As his court wizard, she had mused back then, I’ll be able to influence the donkey-prince on my parents’ future, among other things. However, as both court wizard and wife, I’ll not only be able to influence him, but control him.

  Strange, she realized. Love had never really entered into any of my calculations. It was always about control and power. But just look at him. What kind of king will he become without my influence?…A pitiful excuse for a king. There’s no point in wasting my anger on him. However, there’s someone else who will feel the full brunt of it. “Where’s Paddy?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Liam replied.

  “Seriously?” She had all she could do to keep from striking him.

  “We had a fight. Almost a week ago, when I was informed of my impending marriage to Teagan. He left the dúnfort right after. I don’t know where he went.”

  “An argument or a genuine fight?”

  “A fight…on my part anyway. Even though I struck him twice, he wouldn’t fight back.…Meig, I’ll make this up to you. I promise. Just trust me. I swear I will make this up to you.”

  “Oh, yeah, Liam, I’ll trust you all right. Here’s something maybe you can handle. Have that coach that Ríoghán lent me ready and waiting in the ward—with an appropriate military escort. Aednat and I will be down shortly. And send someone for our luggage. Can I trust you to do that?”

  “Where…where are you going?”

  She turned her back on him, stalked to the door, threw it open, and exited, saying, “Home!”

  Yewday - Fox 9th

  Árainn Shire - Ráth Árainn

  After her confrontation with Prince Liam, Máiréad had left the citadel for Fort Callainn, arriving there late into the evening watch. Her first order of business was to meet with the captain of the defense forces, who was temporarily in charge of the fort, and Parnell, the shire reeve, and inform them of the details of the Articles of Capitulation that they would be receiving within the next few days, after Prince Liam’s betrothal to the Princess Teagan.

  Knowing that the prince had been betrothed to Máiréad set up an awkward situation. Neither man could comfortably look the young woman in the eye.

  The journeyman wizard didn’t make it any easier for them with her next question: “I understand that my da was killed during the liberation of the ráth by Confederation forces. While I realize that he was, unbeknownst to me, a traitor, I would like to know the circumstances under which he died.”

  “Although I didn’t witness it, myself,” the captain replied, “it is my understanding that he was killed in a swordfight with Isla, the dwarf princess.”

  “And his body?”

  “No one knows, Revered Madam,” Parnell answered, the little stoat-faced man’s dark, beady eyes constantly on the move.

  “I see,” she said. “Since you now know the details of the Articles of Capitulation, I don’t see a problem if you start sooner with setting up your Reconciliation Commission here at Ráth Callainn.”

  “With all due respect, My Lady,” the captain said, “while I agree with your premise; nevertheless, I must wait for official orders from Field Marshal Gearóid. I hope you understand.”

  “But of course, Captain. Of course. Although, perhaps you could have a conversation with the captain of the security forces; and, if he gives his word of honor, maybe his troops could be released from the dungeon, as a gesture of good will, pending the receipt of the orders we know are forthcoming.”

  The captain thought for a few moments, then said, “That is within my authority, Revered Madam. I’ll meet with him as soon as we’re done here.”

  “Thank you, Captain. And could you please have someone see to the billeting of my escort and the care of the horses. We’ll be leaving at first light tomorrow for Ráth Árainn.”

  * * *

  Máiréad’s coach arrived early into the evening watch. Before it came to a halt in front of the keep, the captain of the defense forces, who was now also temporarily in charge of Árainn Shire, came out to meet it.

  “My Lady,” he said, offering Máiréad a hand, as she exited the carriage. “Welcome to Ráth Árainn. We hadn’t been advised that you’d be traveling here.” Noticing the blue mantle, the soldier corrected himself. “I’m sorry, I should have addressed you as, ‘Revered Madam.’ Please excuse my lack of protocol.”

  “Thank you, Captain, but either honorific is acceptable. The trip was rather a spur of the moment decision. Where is Steward Ruari and Aoife?”

&nbs
p; “Come in out of the cold, My Lady. I’ll have someone see to your luggage.”

  As he ushered the newly-appointed journeyman wizard toward the keep, he motioned to two of the soldiers. The men immediately started to assist Aednat with the bags.

  Entering the keep, the captain said, “As to Steward Ruari, it pains me to have to tell you that he has passed over.”

  “What?! How?!”

  Leading her into the great hall, he continued. “It turns out that the steward was very much involved with the insurrection, Revered Madam. And without any twinge of remorse, I might add. He was killed by Isla, the dwarf princess, for his insolence. After we took control of the ráth, I permitted his wife, Aoife, to return to the home of her parents. It seemed like the proper thing to do under the circumstances.”

  So, Máiréad, thought, this dwarf, Isla, again. “That was very compassionate of you, Captain,” she said, with regard to the soldier’s treatment of Aoife. Sitting at the long table, she asked that Cian, Reeve of Árainn Shire be summoned.

  Within five minutes, the reeve arrived, along with Aednat, who set mugs of hot cider down for the wizard and the two men, saying, “My Lady, your rooms are ready whenever you wish to retire.”

  After thanking her lady’s maid, Máiréad outlined for the captain and reeve, as she had for the defense forces captain and reeve at Fort Callainn, the terms of the Articles of Capitulation. However, she did not attempt to get the soldier to start the reconciliation process early, although she did recommend that he release the Northern Shires’ security forces on their own recognizance.

  After she had finished, she said, “I understand, Captain, that, with the death of my da and Steward Ruari, you have temporarily assumed control of not only this ráth, but of all Árainn Shire, as well.”

  “Yes, My Lady. Until such time as a new chieftain is either elected or appointed. I’m not sure exactly how that process works.”