Innisgarbh (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 1)

by Ruari McCallion

  “I was asking Ciaran, Ieuan.”

  “Yes Father, it’s fine.,” I replied.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Father. Everything’s fine now.” Diarmuid looked at me keenly and his eyes seemed to glint green, as Amergin’s had the day before.

  “Very well,” he decided after a pause. “I hear you had a thrashing today, Ciaran. What was it for?”

  “I was fighting with Coivin, Father.” Diarmuid looked surprised.

  “Coivin! What for?”

  “He wanted to know what I Saw, and I wouldn’t tell him.” Diarmuid nodded slowly.

  “Good. Good. Don’t tell him or anyone else until we can Interpret your Vision properly, Ciaran. Tell no-one. Not even a Brother or a Father.” Especially not Lucius I heard him say inside my mind and I looked up, startled. Diarmuid nodded again, knowingly. “If anyone pushes for an explanation, refer them to me. And come and see me yourself. You have a rare and precious Gift, Ciaran, and you have to learn to understand it before you can use it properly. Information going to inexperienced hands can lead to trouble. Do you understand?” I nodded. “Good. Come and see me in the morning, after breakfast.”

  “What about my lessons?”

  “None for you tomorrow. Not in the morning, anyway. We need to find out how strong your Gift is, and to help you to understand it better. So tomorrow morning, you come to me. I’ll be in my study.” He turned to leave and I decided to try mind-speaking myself, to see if I could speak as well as hear.

  Brother Lucius is taking us tomorrow morning. Diarmuid stopped at the door and turned.

  “Was there something else, Ciaran?” I flushed with embarrassment.

  “Yes, Father. Should I tell Brother Lucius I’m coming to you tomorrow?”

  “No. Don’t concern yourself with that. I’ll speak to him.” You have a lot to learn yet, boy. Don’t rush it, you could damage yourself as well as spreading confusion. All I got was a garbled hiss and the name. Very loud. Anyone within a day’s march could hear it. I’ll teach you to master the technique. Be cautious, meanwhile. Not everyone is favourably disposed to a child with such a Gift. And then he left and the two of us prepared for bed.

  In the darkness after the rushlights and spitting torches had been extinguished for the night, I whispered across the room.

  “Ieuan?”

  “What?” came the quiet response.

  “Could you show me how to mindspeak?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?” Ieuan didn't answer for a moment and then I heard a sigh.

  “Because I can’t mindspeak. I don’t have the Gift.” He sounded sad.

  “Oh,” I said. Then I continued. “What is your Gift?”

  “I’m a Healer,” he sighed again. “Hadn’t you worked that out? Wasn’t I always the one who tended your cuts and hurts when you had been thrashed? You and your Dark Twin?”

  “Oh,” I said again. After a pause I went on. “That must be a marvellous thing.”

  “What?”

  “To be able to Heal people. Can you do it just with your hands and your mind? It must be great.”

  “There’s more to it than that. I can teach you some of it. Anyone can do it. It’s not like the Sight.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you have the Sight you can be High Druid of a Kingdom. Kings don’t think much of Healers, unless they’re hurt themselves. And only then until they’re better.” There was bitterness in his voice, quiet in the darkness, but there. I could feel it.

  “But you can help everyone. Not just kings. Kings can be stupid.” I bit back on ‘my uncle is’ as I thought of the rough-voiced hulk who ruled Donegal. “They’re just fighters, mostly. Everyone else would welcome you, and rate you higher than a Bard. What use is a Seer to a mother with a sick child?”

  “What use is a Healer to a king with a battle to fight? Who wants to know when his enemy is going to attack? Or whether he’s going to win or not? All the High Druids have the Sight. They’re part of the king’s counsels. They know everything that’s going on. The Healers are outside all of it.”

  “I’d rather help people get better than help them kill each other.”

  “You’ll grow out of it.”

  “But you’ll always be with me. You said you would.” Ieuan made no answer but I could feel the surge of love from him. I could depend on him. “Ieuan?”

  “What now?” his voice was sharper than he meant.

  “I wonder what Coivin’s Gift is.”

  “Causing trouble.” Ieuan replied, with some venom. “Go to sleep, Ciaran. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “And if you don’t shut up now,” came a sibilant hiss from outside the door, “I’ll thrash you both to within an inch of your lives.” It was Lucius. For a brief second I was worried at what he had overheard. But I knew that the druid had only just arrived. These powers! A true Gift of the gods! They would take some getting used to. But I would keep a watchful channel open at all times for Lucius - the man seemed to hate me more than ever. So thinking, I drifted off to sleep.

  4

  Over the next week or so, the rift between Coivin and me was partially bridged. I couldn’t tell him what I’d Seen but he knew something was being kept from him. He tried to lever it out of me but as his efforts brought no success, he became less enthusiastic about their pursuit. He was easily distracted by other matters which could give him more instant gratification, be it swordplay, mistletoe searches, nut-hunting, play-fights with others of like mind or indulging his talent for trouble-making. We spent a lot of time together, as ever, but I was increasingly swept off to instruction with Diarmuid and Coivin had to brave the classroom on his own.

  It was a frustration to Lucius that he was denied his mastery over the two of us. Coivin was able to get away with more than he had dreamed during formal lessons, only for both of us to find the druid more arbitrary than ever outside the school or in the dormitory. He went out of his way to catch us out and to indulge his sadistic inclinations in beating the two of us red raw. Ieuan was constantly on hand to heal our hurts and, more than ever, I thought his talent was a true Gift from the gods. I could see the benefits of it even if Ieuan himself couldn’t, or somehow felt himself short-changed.

  I saw my foster-brother become outwardly hardened but inwardly start to twist and deform under the constant stream of abuse, the beatings and the assaults he was forced to endure.

  And I was powerless to help. Coivin rejected my attempts at comfort, nor would he talk about it and share the burden. He was ashamed and humiliated by the treatment he received, because he could do nothing about it himself. At these times he turned his resentment on me and we fought more and more - although we tried to keep it away from the notice of Lucius and his crew: Cormac; the two Seans (the gardener and the treasurer); Gabris the hurley master, and others. But we couldn’t always escape and beatings occurred at least daily. There were a few who enjoyed Coivin’s wildness and goaded him into ever more extremes of behaviour. I became involved as I wouldn’t desert my cousin. Ieuan asked why.

  “He’s crazy, Ciaran,” he said one night in the dormitory. “He asks for trouble. You get it because you’re always around him. He’s going out of control. You should let him be. Why do you stay around him?”

  “I can’t leave him,” I replied. “I can see what it’s doing to him. He’s so hurt, so twisted up inside. This isn’t the real Coivin. We were always together and he always took my part when we were small. He was bigger than me and he would always stand between me and anyone who was going to give me a hard time. The cook, or a guard, or the other boys in the fort. He was always there and I could always depend on him. It’s those. That lot. They’re poisoning him. Even you couldn’t Heal what’s being done to him. I just hope that he’ll turn to me again one day, remember that I didn’t abandon him. When he’s ready to let the poison out, I’ll be there to help him. I hope.” I stood u
p and walked over to the shelf and idly rearranged my clothes. “I just pray he opens up before...” I didn’t finish the sentence. The memory of the Vision in which I’d killed him was still sharp and clear.

  Diarmuid’s training proceeded rapidly - far quicker than the Druid had expected. Within days we could exchange simple pictures by mind alone. A few weeks saw us passing short messages: first, within the same room but very soon across the width of the compound. Diarmuid confided to Amergin that I had one of the strongest Gifts of Sight he had ever encountered. The High Druid tested me and was astounded at my progress. He said (to Diarmuid) that I was like a tree coming into blossom: it seemed that every day there was more, I grew stronger but without really knowing how to handle my abilities: Diarmuid had his work cut out just to keep up, and there was precious little time to help me over my confusion. My capacity grew so fast that I was able to spend less and less time in class: Diarmuid would mentally tell me what had been covered that day and I would absorb it, and it stuck like glue. Even Lucius was unable to fault me, despite all the wiles he could come up with, including an occasion when he called me in for a test on matters he had taught only that morning. My work was faultless. We were thrashed the harder for Coivin’s errors.

  The skies were clearer and there was a definite hint of spring in the air when I had my next Vision. Coivin and I were out in the woods searching for nettles, the base of much of our medicine. We were chatting away cheerfully, well away from the rest of the class.

  “What’s the definition of impossible?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know. Flying to the moon?”

  “No, that’s just difficult. Impossible is getting a kind word from Lucius.” We both laughed bitterly, but me less so. “What’s the matter, Ciaran? You all right?”

  “I’m all right. Just a bit of a headache. My head feels like it’s full of treacle. I’ll be fine.” I glanced towards him with a reassuring smile and

  Why did you kill me brother?

  Coivin’s lifeblood was gushing out of him in a fountain. I let the sword slip from my grasp and clatter to the ground.

  Tall men, fierce men with plaited blonde hair leaped from the backs of dragons and their swords swept up and down, up and down as they laid Erin waste from end to end. Erin was awash with blood. They screamed with berserker fury as they went about their work and no-one could stand against them.

  A lamb was led to the altar. It went willingly and twigs were plaited cruelly into the wool on its head. It didn’t flinch. The people laughed and mocked it and then they killed it and left it as the sun went down. It rose from its grave and its blood washed all of Erin clean.

  Why did you kill me, brother? We shared the one breast, I shared my mother’s milk with you and you have killed me, Coivin said. I felt the sword that had killed him slip from my hand and clatter to the floor.

  They were moving up the valley, spears glittering in the early sunlight. Full of confidence. The trap would work but there would be blood and death. The crows were gathering on the heights.

  A child stood in the middle of the circle of hooded and robed men. It was confused and frightened, but sedated by the drugs and subdued and malleable.

  The yellow-hairs leaped ashore, shouting, swords raised high. The swords rose and fell and their torches burned bright against the darkening sky. The land was set aflame from end to end, it burned and fell to ashes under their riot, no-one could stand against them and darkness fell. All was dark, save for small points of light, tiny and isolated.

  There was the smell of cooking and my stomach rumbled. I was so hungry and the fire was warm and the food smelled so good and an animal growled as the goat had its throat slit and it was a lamb that stood and ran and the dragons came across the sea Why did you kill me brother? their swords were flame and his sword slipped from my hand and the child was in the middle and there were small points of light

  my head was filled with searing pain. I screamed out with the agony but cut it short because it just made the pain worse. A hand helped me to sit up and take a sip of the sweet, thick drink. I thought I was going to be sick the moment I swallowed it but just as quickly the feeling passed and I could take some more. I went to take the cup eagerly in both hands, I could feel it was doing me good but I was restrained and a quiet voice said

  “Just a sip at a time, Ciaran. Don’t rush it. You’ll be all right.” The cup was taken from me briefly and then it was back again and I did as he was told. The pain was lessening. I was in the Infirmary again. I looked up into Diarmuid’s eyes. Ieuan was just behind him, concern on his face.

  “It went on and on, Father. What day is it?”

  “It’s barely a half an hour since you fell into your coma. Coivin ran straight to me and we brought you back. You’ve been in the infirmary for only a few minutes.”

  “But it went on and on! It was hours! Or days!” I was disorientated and distressed, and Diarmuid let me lie back on the pillow. His eyes were tinged with green and I found that I wanted to lie down again, and to listen calmly to whatever he had to say.

  “It’s like that sometimes. A lot of the time. Time! Why am I using that word? It has no meaning, not in the Otherworld, the world you enter when you have a Vision. You can be away for a few minutes and it can seem like days - or a day and more and it will seem like only a couple of seconds have gone by. Don’t be surprised. The gods make their own rules and they will do with us as they please. You are honoured that they talk to you at all.”

  “Do you have the Sight?”

  “Yes, of course. How else could I mindspeak to you?” He glanced back over his shoulder at Ieuan, who made a dismissive gesture. He would say nothing. “Are you feeling better? Are you ready to tell me about it?” I nodded and sat up.

  “It was much the same as last time. Very confused. A lot of things. Men fighting, and there was a trap being set for an army. I was watching from a hillside as they went up a valley. They were swaggering and confident.” I paused. “They were all going to die. Or nearly all of them. I know it. I don’t know who they were. Could I have some water? I’m very thirsty.” Ieuan got a wooden beaker, half-filled it from a jug and passed it over. I took a sip and carried on. “But I don’t think it’s for a long time yet. And there were others, blonde-headed, with dragon boats. They tore through everywhere, killing and setting fire to everything.” I took another sip, and Ieuan couldn’t resist asking

  “Did you See anything hopeful? or is it all doom and disaster?” I nodded, but hesitantly and unsure.

  “I think so. It was strange. Very odd. There was a lamb. A white lamb. It was sacrificed on an altar, then it got up and its blood washed the land clean.” Diarmuid looked up sharply. “What does it mean?” The Druid hesitated before answering, as if thinking carefully.

  “We’ll come back to that. Anything else?” I looked towards the door to the Infirmary. Someone was just outside, I knew it. “Ieuan, check that we don’t have any extra helpers,” he said quietly. Ieuan went to the door and pulled it open. Lucius was standing there.

  “I..I” he stuttered, “I wondered how the boy was. I hear he had another incident.” Diarmuid went to the doorway.

  “Ciaran,” he emphasised the name, “did have another Vision. You will be told all you need to know in good time. Now,” he paused to the point of insult before continuing, “brother, I know you have other duties. You have told me how much attention these boys need. Please make sure none is getting into any mischief. And, brother, if you would be so kind, please also ensure that no-one comes near this room. I know I can depend on your authority in this. If it is insufficient, use mine.” He dropped the fabric across the opening and returned to my bedside, shaking his head and breathing out heavily. He took another deep breath and then turned his attention to me again. I was nervous and looked away. “Ciaran, look at me please.” I didn’t want to meet his eyes but I did as I was told. Diarmuid’s eyes seemed to glow green, I felt a soft and comforting touch in my mind and my tension quickly ease
d. “Coivin again?” the Druid asked. I nodded.

  “Same as last time. Just the same. I’m not going to kill him, am I Father?” it was too much for the gentle help Diarmuid had given and I burst into tears. “I can’t kill him! I won’t I don’t care what the gods want, I won’t be their toy! I won’t kill Coivin, I won’t!” Diarmuid stroked the back of my neck gently and I felt him exert more power through the mindlink. It was still soft, not the iron grip Amergin exercised, but it was firm and insistent. My sobs receded, I wiped my eyes and then my nose, considered the moisture on the back of my hand and was able to laugh. The Druid smiled.

  “Go on. There’ll be no problem this time,” he said. So I wiped my hand on the blanket and smiled up at the Druid.

  “But I won’t, will I Father? I won’t kill him?” Diarmuid mentally soothed me some more before he answered. My distress was like a pot bubbling on a stove, threatening to blow its lid off at any moment.