by Lynda Engler
The Forgotten Isle
By L.E. Engler
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Published by 3to6 Publishing
The Forgotten Isle
Copyright 2004, 2011 Lynda Engler. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover and interior art by Noa Chaikin.
Second Edition
ISBN 10: 1466-202-32-7
ISBN 13: 978-1466-202320
Dedication
To my son Colin, whose feedback and good ideas made this book possible, and to my daughter Sarah and husband Eric who encouraged me to start writing in the first place.
Contents
Prologue: Taran’s Story
Chapter 1: Finias
Chapter 2: Arthur
Chapter 3: Danu
Chapter 4: Magic and the Dolmens
Chapter 5: Master Sreng’s Tale
Chapter 6: A Trap is Laid
Chapter 7: The Demon of the Underworld
Chapter 8: Plans
Chapter 9: More Plans
Chapter 10: Engineers, Catapults, and Hopes
Chapter 11: Fire and Thunder
Epilogue: Autumn
Prologue: Taran’s Story
April 3, 2200 B.C.E. Ireland
Why is it that just when you have everything all figured out, everything changes? I had a pretty good life. Normal. Comfortable. Maybe even a bit boring. But that was yesterday. Then today happened.
It’s the last day of classes and I’m so excited to be out for the warm season. Tomorrow we begin planting the grain in the fields. We always start with a kind of corn called grazing maize because it can be planted before the ground is really warm. Seeded after alfalfa has played out, it grows well in the rich nitrogen that remains in the soil. I, Taran, son of King Tuan, know a lot about farming. I should, after all. I’ve lived in a farming community my whole boring life.
My brother Élan and I will be overseeing 25 field hands. This is a big responsibility for “young men” as Father calls us. I’m just glad to be done with studies for a few months. I do like learning new things and Master Sreng is a good teacher, but there is a lot to be said for having freedom to do the things you want to do. Like hunt with my new bow that Father gave me for my birthday.
Élan had just entered the city gate from readying the fields for planting with some older boys and met up with my sister Taltiu and me as we headed home after school.
“Tonight is the Planting Feast, Brother,” shouted Élan, running to catch up to us. Taltiu and I had just left Master Sreng’s home just inside the city gate. “Mother will want us to wear our best tunics. I’m not sure that mine still fits. I’ve gotten quite tall this winter!”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know how tall you’ve gotten. Ugh! Father is so impressed. Like you willed yourself to get taller! Figures you would get compliments for something you had nothing to do with,” I replied with a snarl. Élan is 16, almost grown. He’s as tall as Father already - he measures ten hands tall! Father is very proud of Élan and rightly so, as he will be our leader after Father is gone. Besides his incredible height, Élan is remarkable to look at. He has golden blond hair, like mine, but his eyes are deep brown. My light blue eyes are very sensitive to bright light. Élan is lucky – he doesn’t have to squint in bright sunlight. Wish I could say the same!
Taltiu butted in like only a 6 year old can. “Ainé has sewn an extra length of ribbon to the bottom of my gown, so it won’t be too short on me. Élan isn’t the only one who’s grown.” Her long, blond, tangled curls swung to and fro as she walked. She loves swinging her hair around. I think she does it just to be irritating.
We bicker like this all the time. Mother tries to ignore us but when Father is in earshot we know we’re in trouble because he hates it when we disagree. He thinks young men and young ladies should be civil to each other. I’m not sure I know what civil means, but it doesn’t sound like something my brother and sister and I are interested in.
Suddenly we heard a loud rumbling in the ground, like a thousand cattle rushing to water. What was happening? Something was coming over the hill. I felt rather than saw the advancing darkness. It flowed over the hill like thick black water washing over a broken dam, coming toward us with lightning-like speed. We were still near the open city gate and looked back to see an army approaching swiftly. “Run!” shouted Élan.
Élan pulled out his sword and stood his ground. “Take Taltiu home, Taran. Tell Father the horde is coming!” With that, he rushed back out through the heavy, wooden city gate. The other teenage boys who had come home with him pushed the gate closed and ran off with my brother to meet the invaders.
I turned toward home and ran, pulling Taltiu with me like a dog on a leash. “Move,” I shouted. We sprinted toward the center of the city. The men were already rushing out to fight the horde. We saw Father at the head of the pack, leading them.
Finias is a large city, and our army is great indeed. We have over 1000 proud fighting men! And all of them were pouring out from Finias’ thick stone walls. What a sight! They met the advancing horde on the fields we were to plant tomorrow.
I raced through the narrow city streets with Taltiu and rushed into our house. “Mother! I’ve
brought Taltiu,” I shouted as we crossed the threshold of our walled compound.
“Where is Élan?” Mother cried as she hugged both of us to her, nearly crushing us.
“He’s outside with the army. He was the first to see the horde,” I said proudly.
“But he isn’t wearing his armor!” Mother is alarmed when our clothes don’t match. Her concern over clothes and armor come out in just about the same worried voice, so I’ve learned not to get anxious about everything, just because Mother is. But I saw that horde. Now that worries me!
For four hours we stayed hidden within our walled compound, hearing the shouts of the warriors, awful shrieks of the wounded and hideous cries of whatever was attacking our city. Finally the noise began to let up and men began dragging injured warriors through the city gate.
Women and servants rushed to help, aiding the injured and offering water to all. They cleaned the wounds and bandaged what they could. Finias has many healers but they could only do so much.
They offered healing herbs and tonics, but some warriors would not recover. Many were dead outside on the fields – villagers too.
Suddenly Father came through the gate. He was carrying someone over his shoulder. I could not see who, but I instinctively knew. So did Mother, who rushed to Father crying, “Élan!”
Ainé took Taltiu and the twins to her quarters. I rushed off to get a healer and dragged him to my fallen brother. Father laid Élan gently on the ground. “He fought well,” said my father, King Tuan. “Sinaia, you should be proud! He fought as well as any experienced warrior...” At which point the King of Finias broke down in tears. I had never seen my father cry before that day or since. My mother had tears flowing as soon as she saw Élan on Father’s shoulder. She knew.
My brother was dead. I just couldn’t believe it! While we didn’t always get along that well, I really did admire my brother. He was always so strong and brave. The first of all the boys his age in everything he did. He was the best with a bow and arrow, the fastest runner, and skilled with a sword.
Now he was gone.
How could this happen? I just did not understand this at all! Finally I asked, “Father, who attacked us?”
Through tears, the anger grew in the king’s face. “The Kullucks! They are huge, misshapen, brutal animals – with the powers of evil. Senchos the Footless is their leader. They attacked us without warning, and for no reason. They’ve killed many villagers and sent others fleeing. But we drove them off… for now.”
My mother shrieked, “You mean they’ll be back?” Her face contorted in total horror.
“Oh, most definitely. Senchos escaped. I’m sure he’ll regroup and come back. We’ll need to call upon our allies. I will send runners to get the courageous Firbolg to help us.” The Finians were a peaceful people. Although we were proud of our thousand-man volunteer army, we were not used to fighting. Our army was mostly a show of force to neighboring clans to prove we were a strong city. It deterred attacks from pretty much everyone. It was how King Tuan, and his father before him, had always kept the peace with our neighbors. We were a farming community – not a fighting community.
King Tuan called for his man servant. “Taliesin, go with the runners. I want you to personally deliver our plea to the Firbolg. Tell them what happened here today. Tell them how my eldest son, and heir, has fallen to these monsters,” he said. He stopped to think a moment then continued. “We must form an alliance with them. I will give them fertile land and as much wealth as I can spare, if they will come and help shield Finias from this godless horde. Go now!”
Chapter 1: Finias
April 3, 2200 B.C.E. Ireland
The day after the battle with the Kullucks, they had the funeral for Élan. His body was wrapped in white cloth and placed on top of the king’s family dolmen on the Senmag, the plane of souls. The funeral pyre would be lit below and his body would be burned and reduced to ashes.
Élan was the king’s heir and next in line to be king. He fought bravely in battle so he deserved the best funeral service they could give him to shepherd him into the Highest Realm. Master Sreng taught the children that those who fight for the Maker will spend eternity in the heavens.
As king, Tuan had the honor of lighting the funeral pyre that would send Élan on his way. His mother, Sinaia, sobbed as did little Taltiu and Ainé, their maidservant. The twins were too young to understand what was happening. Taran tried to stand tall with his Father, but it was hard.
The wind blew smoke from the fire into Taran’s eyes. Between the wind, the smoke, and the awful odor, he couldn’t stop the tears that soaked his face. And it wasn’t just the smoke that made his tears flow. Losing his brother was the hardest thing he’d ever had to bare! He knew the flames were sending Élan to a better place, but he missed his brother already. He was lost and alone without him. Élan had always been there, as long as Taran could remember. They had shared a room, stories, games, and friends. Taran thought, Élan always took care of me and protected me. How can I live without my brother?
April 5, 2200 B.C.E.
Two days after the funeral, the nomadic Firbolg arrived and set up camp outside the walls of Finias. Their encampment was huge. There were at least 500 well-trained fighting men outside the walls. The clamor they made! Taran hadn’t heard such noise since the last Harvest Festival. And the smell! Like five-day old left over stew mixed with animal musk. The Firbolg have never won any awards for cleanliness.
King Tuan and his son Taran went to the Firbolg’s camp to discuss the strategy to defend their city. This was the first time that Taran had ever gone with his father to a war council.
King Tuan turned to his son and said, “Taran, now that Élan is gone, someday you will rule Finias. That’s why I’m taking you with me to meet the Firbolg chieftains. It is important that you begin learning how to be a diplomat, son.” As the king’s second son, that wasn’t supposed to have been Taran’s responsibility.
Taran was still too young to be king. He had not even had his coming-of-age ceremony, but he remembered Élan’s. It had been a grand event! Now he was worried if he would live long enough to even have a coming-of-age ceremony.
King Tuan had no choice but to choose Taran as his successor as his next son was only a toddler. But Taran really didn’t think he was cut out to lead people – he’d rather build. He was really looking forward to his lessons next year which would finally include building and craftsmanship studies. He wanted to learn everything he could about buildings so he could help make Finias an even greater city when he was grown. Now that’s what school should be – learning about the things that you might actually use in real life!
As the king and Taran approached the nomad’s encampment they heard a great clatter of whooping and hollering. One of the king’s runners hurried in from the north. His breath wheezed in the cold spring air.
“King Tuan!” the runner panted, out of breath from his long journey. Sweat dripped from his brow and his shirt was soaked through.
Taran and his father waited while the runner caught his breath. “My Lord,” he huffed. “I’ve just returned from the northlands.” Huff, huff. “The Kullucks have just passed Four Knocks and it looks like they are headed through the Cold Hills, sire.”
“The Cold Hills! If they continue on that path they could be back at Finias by tomorrow!” the sovereign announced. That would be disastrous. Finias was not prepared for another deadly assault so soon.
King Tuan dismissed the runner.
Taran watched the runner walk to the camp fire, remove his sweat-soaked hide shirt and lay it across a log to dry. The young messenger then took a long drink from a water skin he had hung at his waist by a belt cord.
The king called together the chieftains of the Firbolg and they joined the men already at the camp fire to discuss their defense. Malred, the Firbolg head chieftain, began. “We have encountered the Kullucks before. Our warriors have met them at the coast but only in small bands. They come from the sea, or perhaps from the depths of the Underworld itself.”
Sigrid, the chief of the Thistle Clan, added, “My scouts have seen them emerge from the waters. They claw their way up from the sea, onto the sandy beaches in the south, then gather in groups and begin wandering inland, foraging as they go. They gather strength as they eat. If you can catch them coming out of the water, they are weak like a newborn. But within even one day they have gathered more strength than ten men!”
King Tuan thought for a moment about this new information. “So they swim out from the sea that spawns them, and then go looking for food. Maybe we should set up watch parties along the coast and catch them when they emerge.”
“Sire, they do not swim,” replied Malred. “They seem to walk on the ocean floor and crawl out.”
“Ah well, that is a moot point now, isn’t it? They are already well inland and headed this way. We will need to set up archers outside the village they destroyed in their last raid. Behind them will be my able spearmen. We shall defend Finias to the last!” His voice was full of anger. He wanted to destroy these monsters more than anything else in the world. He wanted revenge for his eldest son’s death.
Chief Malred agreed to station his Firbolg archers at the edge of the fields. Sigrid nodded and added his men. Together they would be the first line of defense and inflict some serious damage on the horrible creatures.
April 6, 2200 B.C.E.
On the dawn of the next day another runner came with more news. The Kullucks had turned onto the River Road and were only hours away.
By mid-morning lookouts reported that the Kullucks had reached the village of Merton’s Ford and were bearing down hard on the road from the north. At the outskirts of Finias’ lands, the Kullucks split up – half took the western side and half the eastern. Within an hour they reached the city.
The attack began just before noon. Taran was patrolling on top of the thick stone wall near the main gate when he looked up in alarm to see thousands of Kullucks sweeping over the fields. The Firbolg, as the first defensive line, met t
he attacking creatures with arrows ready.
The Firbolg archers got off one volley before the dark creatures were upon them. Like animals, Kullucks were not afraid to die. They didn’t even slow down their advance when their front line dropped from the sharp arrows.
Once through the archers, the horde reached the outer wall of the city. The spearmen threw their weapons at the horde as it bore down upon them. But there were just too many of them. Within moments the Kullucks overran the spearmen. They wanted nothing but to destroy. They climbed the walls and ripped and tore at the brave warriors with their fanged jaws, leaving nothing even for the crows. They battered the gate until it shattered and then poured into the city trampling everything in their way, people and animals alike. These mindless creatures may have looked similar to humans but they were truly beasts. They destroyed for the pure sense of destruction. Together the warriors of Finias and the courageous Firbolg struggled bravely against the beasts but they were outnumbered.
Taran held his spear to his chest as he took cover in the watch tower. Though he was brave, he knew when he was outmatched and decided not to enter the battle. He watched the fighting below through a square hole in the thick stone wall of the tower.
As dusk fell, the Kullucks seemed satisfied with their cruel work of the day and retreated to the forest. What was left of Finias’ army returned within the broken walls of the city and dressed their wounds. The city folk hiding in cellars came out into the dusk sky and looked at the damage done to their once beautiful homes. What destruction! Many had nothing left but broken walls and torn belongings.