by Lynda Engler
Taran did not like to think about being the leader of Finias. That was supposed to have been his brother’s job. Now it fell heavily on his shoulders. But building things, now that was something he knew he was good at! Taran stood up straight and addressed the king. “Father, I have examined Arthur’s design for a catapult and while I have never seen, or even imagined such a ... creation...”
“Machine. Structures that do work are called machines,” Arthur interjected.
“Yes, machine,” continued Taran. “While I have never imagined such a machine, I think this is a good plan. Arthur obviously has experience with such machines. I think we can build this in a matter of days and use it against our enemy.”
The king examined the drawing. “Yes, I see how it can work. It is actually quite simple. I don’t know why we have never thought of something like this before. It’s very much like a large, stationary bow and arrow. Different design, of course, and the arrow has been replaced by a ball of flame but yes, all in all, a good design. And who would know better than Taran? Building and design is a special interest of his. Did you know that Arthur?”
“I guessed as much, Sire,” Arthur replied quickly. “Someday I think Taran will become a competent engineer.”
“Engineer? I don’t know that term, but if it means a designer and builder, than that’s what we have here. A future engineer!” King Tuan beamed with pride in his now eldest son.
Chapter 10: Engineers, Catapults, and Hopes
April 11, 2200 B.C.E. Ireland
The work on the catapult progressed quickly. Taran helped Arthur draw a more detailed schematic of the design for the catapult and men worked day and night to cut and deliver wood, secure the lengths together, and fashion their machine. Arthur had not counted on the fact that nails were not in use in this era so, once again, he had to improvise. Each piece of wood was mitered to fit into the next then lashed together with strong rope. Then they built a base with sturdy wooden wheels so they could move it and maneuver it.
As the work continued, Arthur took Taran aside privately. “Taran, there is something I must tell you. You know that Danu brought me here from far in the future. What you don’t know is that my time here is limited.”
“How limited?” asked Taran.
“I’m not sure. She said that it will be only a few weeks before I get sent back.”
“Why does she need to send you back so soon? We aren’t done yet!” Taran pleaded, his blue eyes boring into Arthur. “I can’t do this all on my own.”
“Apparently Danu has no control over how long I stay nor does she actually send me back. It has something to do with bending time. I’m not sure I understand it myself. But she said that time will snap, like a slingshot, and send me back to my own time. So just in case I disappear before we are done, I want you to assure me that you will use your skills and your own good ideas to finish the job,” Arthur declared.
“That I will!” exclaimed Taran. “I might never become much of a leader but I am a good builder and I have been known to come up with some pretty imaginative ideas myself.”
Taran’s confidence in his own abilities had grown a great deal in the last few days. He had seen and done things he had never even imagined before.
“Yes, I believe you have. I think Danu brought me here because she needed an engineer,” replied Arthur.
“A war engineer,” added Taran, nodding his head.
“Yes, but you have learned a lot and I think you can do this on your own now if you have to,” Arthur stated.
By the end of the fifth day of Arthur’s time in the Bronze Age, the group of hard-working men and boys had finished the catapult. Taran had been surprisingly helpful designing and constructing the machine. Neither of the boys had ever built anything like it before, of course, but Arthur at least knew what a catapult looked like. He had used them. Taran had never even seen one. But he had a lot of great ideas! He really was going to be a great engineer someday.
Everyone was thankful that the Kullucks had not returned during that time. Perhaps they were scarred enough from their encounter with the last trap laid for them that they would not return for a long time. And their numbers didn’t seem diminished at all after the last two attacks on Finias. Arthur feared no matter how many Kullucks they killed, they would always be outnumbered.
All of their hopes now rested on the machine they had struggled to build. Their sweat and elbow grease was in that thing and Arthur for one prayed it would do the job. Arthur didn’t even want to think about what the good people of Finias would do if it failed… if he failed them.
“I don’t think they’ll stay away for long,” said King Tuan to the men and boys gathered around the campfire blazing in the cold night. “One thing we know for sure,” he continued, “They do sleep at night. They have never attacked at night so I think they have primitive ‘hunt by day and sleep at night’ instincts.”
“Then we should be safe during this night as well, Father,” replied Taran.
“Yes, my thought exactly,” stated the king. “We will sleep here tonight and wait for them. If they come back in the morning, we will be ready for them.”
Their dinner was cooked in a fulacht fiadh, the cooking pit, near the stream. This unique cooking method was very interesting to Arthur – they had nothing like it in his time.
The deep pit was lined with stone and filled with water from the stream. A nearby fire super-heated rocks, which were then rolled into the pit to keep the water boiling. Men rolled new stones in every ten minutes to keep the water temperature steady.
Wild boar was cleaned and wrapped in straw carefully woven together into a long rope. This rope was wound around the boar, completely bundling it, before the animal was dropped into the boiling water where it would cook. One man used a large stick to roll another hot rock into the pit. The stone hissed and bubbled as it sank into the murky, ash-filled water. Some loose straw from the wrapped meat floated to the surface of the boiling water.
Two hours later, two strong men lowered a flesh hook – a long pronged bronze hook – into the pit and speared the boiled meat, bringing it to the surface of the steaming water. They plucked it out of the water and laid it on the grass, then began cutting the wet straw off the boar. The wild boar was surprisingly good. Arthur was hungry enough to eat as much as they would give him but the warrior’s portion, the choicest cut of meat, went to the king.
After finishing off his dinner, King Tuan turned his attention to his advisors, Master Sreng, and the Firbolg chieftains. They began a long discussion of why their previous traps failed.
Sigrid, the Firbolg chief of the Thistle Clan, said, “It is odd that no matter how many Kullucks we kill in battle, there seem to be just as many the next time they attack.”
King Tuan nodded as he said, “Yes. I was thinking of your description of how they emerge from the sea. They must be getting reinforcements all the time.”
Malred, the Firbolg head chieftain, said. “Even if we defeat them here, we will have to station a permanent force on the coast to handle them before they become a problem. You are too close to the sea here for safety, Tuan.” The conversation continued like this for some time.
They were all tired. Days of hard work had led to utter exhaustion. Arthur felt like he could sleep for a week.
Arthur caught one remark made by Master Sreng, just before drifting off to sleep in his bed roll near the fire. “Dis let them escape, but he has claimed the Kullucks as his. He will take them someday. I just hope that day comes soon.”
Chapter 11: Fire and Thunder
April 12, 2200 B.C.E. Ireland
The morning dawned early. The fire had gone out during the night and the ground was cold. Everyone crawled out of their bed rolls and yawned and stretched. Wood was added to the fire and rekindled. Breakfast consisted of hard biscuits and water from animal skin flasks. The water had an unusual flavor because it was stored in hide containers. Arthur had not tasted such water since the last hunt Uther had taken hi
m on. The taste brought back memories of another cold morning in the woods. That time at least the trees sheltered him from the wind. Here on the almost treeless plane of souls, the wind cut through his clothes like a knife.
“Taran, I am going to inspect the catapult and make sure everything is ready. Would you like to help me?” Arthur asked, jumping up and stomping his frozen feet on the ground to warm them up.
“Of course!” replied Taran, his eyes shining with delight.
They walked across the plane toward the waiting machine. It was cold enough to see their breath yet this early in the spring. The Senmag was a grassy, mostly flat plane. A small stream flowed on the eastern edge and low trees grew there. A boarder of moss edged the stream, forming a carpet of assorted green and brown hues. The moss varied from emerald to forest green, with patches of burnt umber mixed in. It had the effect of carpeting the stream bank.
They had built the catapult quite a distance from the stream. The machine was a strange creature out here on the otherwise barren plane. Perched among the standing stones, it looked out of place. But it was built well and hopefully it would get the job done. At least it might inspire enough fear in the Kullucks that they might stay away from Finias long enough for a more permanent defense to be constructed. Arthur could only hope! He didn’t want to let Danu or the Finians down. He had his honor to think of. And he truly cared for these people, especially his new friend Taran and his family.
Strips of cloth had been soaking in a barrel of heated oil during the night. Steam rose from the hot oil tank and both boys warmed their cold fingers over the welcome heat. Then Taran and Arthur used the flesh hook from last night’s dinner to scoop the dripping, smelly cloth from the oil and dump it into the clay pot that had been secured to the catapult’s throwing arm.
Arthur lit a torch from the fire beneath the oil tank to ignite the cloth. Once the cloth was burning well, the boys and men would take turns sitting watch, and replenishing the cloth and oil when it burned low. The plan was to have the catapult ready at all times so that whenever the Kullucks came back they would be ready to fire.
The day dragged on into afternoon and just when they all thought that they had wasted their time, a runner arrived with news.
“The Kullucks are coming!” he shouted from across the plane as he ran toward the group of waiting Finians. “The Kullucks are coming!”
A low rumble began in the earth. It grew until it became a loud roar and they finally saw the horde approaching from the east. But the catapult was facing west.
King Tuan shouted, “Turn it now! Get it turned! Turn it!” Men quickly rushed to the catapult to turn it in the other direction.
Arthur saw the advancing horde. The Kullucks didn’t even slow down at the stream – they just dashed across it, tearing up the fragile moss carpet in their wake.
When the onslaught was almost upon them, the king signaled the “ready” sign they had agreed upon. King Tuan raised both hands in the air then brought them down together quickly.
It took about 15 to 20 minutes to reload a catapult, and Arthur knew they would only get one shot. He’d better make it a good one.
“Fire!” King Tuan yelled.
Arthur released the catapult’s throwing arm. The flaming ball of cloth arced through the sky and landed right in the core of the advancing hoard. The cloth wrapped itself around arms and legs and burning Kullucks immediately began screeching as they ran, spreading the flame.
The burning oil hit the grass and began to spread the fire across the plane. The fire quickly swelled until it engulfed half the horde of advancing monsters. The confused man-animals ran in circles, unsure what was happening and what they should do about it. Senchos the Footless was at the head of the column and had escaped the flames. He turned back to look at the horde in dismay, half of it burning and all of it shrieking.
Just then a shimmering light appeared and engulfed Arthur. Taran jumped backwards away from him in shock and fear.
Arthur screamed, “No! Not yet!” but was unable to stop the force of time from reaching out and grabbing him. Arthur was pulled into the swirling light and fell a great distance down a well of shimmering light. Within moments he appeared once again outside the healer’s hut in Morgana’s compound and fell to his knees. The forces of time had snapped and returned him to his own time!
Arthur was home. But way too soon.
Taran was aghast. “Arthur!” he shouted into the swirling maelstrom of light. But it was too late. Time had taken Arthur back.
This wasn’t supposed to happen! Taran didn’t know how he was supposed to finish this battle without his new friend.
The ground rumbled and fractured as Taran watched from near the catapult. Arthur’s catapult. Rocks crumbled as a gaping wound in the earth appeared.
Fire spewed from the huge hole in the ground and a few Kullucks fell into the fissure.
With an earsplitting clap of thunder, Dis, the evil demon of the Underworld, appeared in the flames. Oh, he was awful! Taran had never seen or smelled anything more horrible in his life!
Dis floated in the flames spewing from the hole. This fire came from the depths of the Underworld itself. The flames brought with them burning embers that exploded into millions of tiny shards that spread everywhere, engulfing anything that wasn’t already burning. The job the catapult began was being finished by the flames emerging from Dis’ hole to the Underworld.
“It is time, my new friends! I have returned to take you to the Underworld! The time has come for you to serve me!” Dis announced to the burning animal horde. With that they heard another crack of thunder and lightning erupted from the ground. The hole began to slowly enlarge, swallowing the frantic, burning horde as it did. Within three minutes the entire horde of misshapen violent animal-creatures was consumed and with a loud bang! the hole in the ground slammed shut.
They all watched as the earth closed and no one was quite sure what just happened.
The Kullucks were gone.
The hole was gone.
All that remained was burned grass and smoldering mounds of dirt. Shouts of joy erupted from the watching people! They all cheered when they finally realized that it was over.
They had won.
Taran ran to his father and hugged him. “We won!” he shouted.
“They’re gone!” the king shouted in return.
King Tuan looked around for Arthur. “Where is our helper?” he asked his son.
“I don’t know. He was here and then he was gone!” replied Taran.
The king ordered his warriors to begin a search for the missing boy but after hours of exhaustive searching they could find no sign of him. King Tuan was quite upset and assumed that the worst had happened to the boy. The Kullucks must have gotten him or he had somehow fallen into the fissure in the ground. The king would order a memorial service for poor Arthur. The good people of Finias would celebrate their victory while grieving for a fallen hero.
Taran, of course, knew that Arthur had not fallen into any hole in the ground but that he had been returned to his own time. He would miss his new friend but he would always keep Arthur’s fate a secret.
May 24, 500 A.D. Wales
Arthur had been returned to the exact moment in time that he had left so many days ago. No one had known he was gone so no one had missed him. He wasn’t sure if he should tell his friends about his adventure in the Bronze Age. Maybe they would believe him. More likely they would think he had lost his mind.
He wondered what had happened in that battle. Had the Finians been successful? They must have! If the Earth Mother’s purpose had been to use Arthur to help them then he must have done his job. But he couldn’t help wondering. Arthur vowed to become a student of ancient history. Maybe he would be able to find some records about the battle. Or perhaps one of the wizards would know their fate. Someday Arthur might even travel to Ireland and see if he could find the ruins of Finias.
Arthur decided to keep his story to himself.
&nb
sp; Epilogue: Autumn
October 17, 2200 B.C.E. Ireland
Danu stood at the edge of the field unseen by the children of Finias. She often watched them as she watched over all humans on the Earth.
She saw Taran and Taltiu sitting at the opposite edge of the wheat field. The green shoots had turned to gold in the autumn sun. It had been a difficult year and a dreadfully hot summer. Rebuilding Finias was a backbreaking task but it was finally completed. Taran had contributed many of his own ideas during the reconstruction.
So many men had died in battles with the Kullucks that the women had had to plant the fields, using whatever scattered grain they could salvage. Even the youngest girls, including Taltiu, had a role to play. She was especially joyful to see the golden wheat field – the fruit of her own hard work.
Taran was tired, bone tired. Their days had been tough. Now they both sat and watched the wind blow through the wheat and felt the sun warm their faces. Tomorrow the harvest would begin.
History left most of the ancient Emerald Isle behind. Few had learned the art of the scribe and their history was lost. Centuries later they were forgotten, except by Arthur.
And what of Arthur? History speaks for itself.
About the Author
Lynda Engler lives in northern Vermont with her family (both human and canine). When not reading or writing, she enjoys skiing, kayaking, and photography. The Forgotten Isle was originally published in 2004 and is being rereleased in 2011 with new illustrations from the very talented Noa Chaikin.
Her second book, Out of Ewr, is being released in 2011. It is Young Adult science fiction, and is the first in a 3-volume set The Jet Believers. Book two, Into the Yellow Zone, will follow in 2012.