The Embers are Fanned in Cruachan

by Bill Stackhouse

  After a few more moments of silence, the prince asked, “Where do you go from here?”

  “Since all the master wizards, except for Master Coinneach, are here in Dúnfort Cruachan, this afternoon I was going to present myself to the Venerable Odhran. I’ve been assigned to him for the next five months of my training program.”

  “That should be an interesting five months. Here’s hoping that Odhran keeps you and Meig at a safe distance from each other.”

  “Where’s she been training?” Pádraig asked. “With some of the journeyman wizards throughout the three kingdoms, like I have?”

  “No. Just with Odhran, himself. She’s been up at Cathair Béarra the entire time since your graduation from the Academy. Odhran has been giving her personal instruction.”

  “The entire seventeen months? Interesting.”

  “Sort of scary, actually,” Liam admitted. “Thanks be to An Fearglas that the first tenet of wizardry is ‘Seirbhís a Tír agus Rí.’” After both men again performed the ritual act of submission, the prince continued, though with a concerned note in his voice. “It’s sacrosanct, right, Paddy? The first tenet?”

  Pádraig snickered. “The wizard part, sure. But, remember, she’s also going to be your wife. You’re on your own there, my friend. No tenet to protect you from being turned into a pig, if you cross the line in your marriage.”

  “But…you’d be able to reverse the spell. Right?”

  “Hmm. Maybe, yes; maybe, no. Best not to test it.”

  Mid-Winter Day

  Central Federal Region - Dúnfort Cruachan

  Pádraig and Prince Liam had walked back to the citadel together.

  Leaving the apprentice wizard in the great hall of the keep, Liam said, “I’ll hunt up Master Odhran and tell him you’re here. Perhaps my rank will see that he doesn’t let you sit here and cool your heels for too long.”

  “I appreciate it,” Pádraig told him.

  “Hey! What’s rank for, if you can’t abuse it for your friends,” Liam replied with a chuckle, as he headed toward the door. “Stop and see me before you leave. Let me know what His Venerableness plans to do with you for the next five months.”

  Once the prince had left the room, Pádraig tried to decide what he should do while he waited—remain standing, take a seat at the large table, or pull a stool out from the table and sit over by the fireplace where it was warmer.

  Three logs burned in the mammoth stone hearth. On the mantle, as well as on the walls of the great hall, the polished stone eyes of various stuffed forest creatures peered out at the apprentice wizard. But the two that captured Pádraig’s attention were a black bear rampant and a warthog standing on the floor on either side of the firebox.

  Crossing over to the warthog, Pádraig quickly looked around the empty room.

  Even though Liam said he’d pull rank on Odhran, the young wizard thought, I wonder how long of a wait I have? Surely enough for a little practice. I really need only a minute. That’s all I’ve been able to maintain the spell for anyway.

  Heretofore, he had used the shape-changing spell, which he had only recently learned, on just inanimate objects—boulders, tree stumps, an occasional fallen log. He had never attempted an animal. And even though the stuffed warthog wasn’t technically an animal anymore, it had been at one time.

  As he had up atop the cliffs overlooking Saltwater Bay, Pádraig closed his eyes, calmed himself, and cleared his mind. Opening his eyes, the young wizard concentrated on the warthog and, as he did so, he slowly assumed the shape of the one-time-animal.

  The transformation had no sooner taken place when the door to the great hall opened and the Lady Máiréad strode in, wearing a royal-blue dress with a white girdle, white slippers and, around her head, a circlet of finest silver.

  Two gasps were let out simultaneously—one audible and one silent.

  The silent one came from Pádraig. New at practicing the shape-shifting spell, he knew he couldn’t maintain it for very long.

  Uh-oh, he thought. Go away! Go away! Go away!

  Averting even that little of his concentration to his thoughts of Máiréad, the young wizard could feel the spell begin to slip, and he once more used every bit of his willpower to maintain it.

  The young woman issued an audible gasp, and she automatically assumed a defensive posture, conjuring up balls of lighting in both hands. Although seeing only the stuffed animals on the walls and mantle, as well as the bear and the two warthogs beside the fireplace, she sensed another presence in the room with her. Running from the room, she hurled the lightning balls in no particular direction, just using them as covering fire, as she made her escape.

  Pádraig resumed his normal form, holding on to the fireplace mantle, so that he wouldn’t collapse.

  Interesting, he thought, as he fought the wave of nausea. She could sense my presence.

  Taking slow, deep breaths, the young wizard continued to stand there grasping the mantelpiece for support. The floor of the great hall was stone, and, therefore, insulated him from the elemental forces in the earth. It would take some time under these conditions for his essence to fully recharge.

  In less than a minute, the Venerable Odhran, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Northern Shires, hastily entered the room, followed by the Lady Máiréad.

  The master wizard had a long, pinched face that seemed to be frozen in a perpetual frown. He cast an ominous figure, dressed completely in black. With his brown-and-black leather belt-bag and obsidian eyes, the pale skin of his face, and gray hair, mustache, and foot-long beard were the only contrasting colors.

  “Venerable Sir,” Pádraig said, with a respectful bow. “My Lady,” he added, nodding toward Máiréad.

  Quickly taking in the great hall, Odhran barked, “How long have you been here?”

  “I…I only just arrived,” Pádraig lied. “Just…just moments before you and the Lady Máiréad. I…I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  Odhran glanced over at Máiréad.

  Completely ignoring Pádraig, as if he were merely a second stuffed warthog, she started her reply to the master wizard, “I could have sworn there was a—”

  But Odhran cut her off with a hand gesture.

  “I must have been mistaken,” she finished. Following with a slight bow, she said, “I’ll await the conclusion of your meeting, Venerable Sir,” and left the room.

  “So, Honored Sir?” Odhran said, a bit condescendingly with the honorific, gesturing Pádraig to a stool at the table. “What am I to do with you for the next five months? Hmm?”

  As the young wizard crossed to the side of the table, using all his concentration to keep from stumbling, he replied, “Further my education, Venerable Sir. Teach me those things an apprentice wizard should know.” He managed to lower himself onto the stool without falling down.

  However cautious Pádraig was, Odhran detected the all-too-carefulness with which the young man had walked. Taking a seat at the foot of the table, the wizard said, “I notice you’re moving a bit slowly. Are you ill?”

  “Lack of sleep, Venerable Sir. I rode all through the night from Liatroim Shire to get here for the Roghnú.”

  “Ahh, that explains it, then. Well, rest up. I imagine you’ll want to spend some time with your da. Take whatever you need.”

  “I appreciate that, Venerable Sir, but whenever you require me to begin my training, I’ll be ready.”

  Odhran gave a wry smile at the eagerness, then said. “My brother Taliesin and I have very different views on the training of young wizards. But, since he is your mentor, I will defer to his methods. Murchú is the senior journeyman wizard, on the staff of Ruari, Steward of Árainn Shire. After you’ve rested and had a good visit with Finbar, you will report to Murchú at Ráth Árainn. He will give you your assignments.”

  “If I may ask, sir, how long will I be with the Revered Murchú?” Pádraig asked, using the proper honorific for a journeyman wizard.

  “Until you are told differently. No
w go. Get some well-deserved rest. Have a nice visit with your da, then head up to Ráth Árainn.”

  Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Pádraig rose from his stool, bowed to the master wizard, and said, “Thank you so very much, Venerable Sir. I appreciate your understanding, and I look forward to my time in The Northern Shires.”

  Odhran said nothing in return. He simply gave a small nod toward the apprentice wizard.

  Once Pádraig had left the great hall, Odhran stood, conjured up a light which illuminated the entire room, and slowly moved about, extending his senses into every corner. When he reached the stuffed warthog, he stopped, looked down at it, and put his hand on the animal’s head.

  Only just arrived, did you, Pádraig? he thought. I would not have thought that shape-shifting would be part of your skill-set at this early stage of your development. Ten years ago when you thwarted our efforts, I thought you to be merely a very clever farrier, albeit blessed as a gifted one. However, now I see that you have become a very clever wizard with powers. And, I fear, more powers will develop within you. A wizard with powers who shall bear watching. Isn’t it fortuitous that I will be overseeing your continued development for the next five months. And you will be watched, indeed, my young wizard. Watched and placed in service in a locale where you cannot foil our plans for a second time.

  Mid-Winter Day

  Central Federal Region

  After leaving the citadel, Pádraig headed over to The Rope and Anchor, one of the many taverns in the Central Federal Region, to meet his father, Finbar, for an early supper. Still a bit wobbly from his shape-shifting experiment, he stopped once more at his favorite spot atop the interior cliffs above Saltwater Bay. There, he pulled his cloak tightly around him, plopped himself down on the ground, with his back up against the boulder, so that most of his body was in direct contact with the elemental forces in the earth, and waited for the essence within him to refresh.

  While he sat there, his thoughts once again returned to the morning’s Selection and to the five new student wizards who were now, no doubt, ensconced in their quarters at the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted on Blessed Island, all wide-eyed with wonder, anticipation, and trepidation.

  Those thoughts were temporarily interrupted, however, as a trio of elves, followed at a very distrustful distance by a quartet of dwarfs, traipsed toward the marketplace with pushcarts containing their wares.

  The variety of goods at the marketplace was amazing—cloth, spices, and fruit from the East, across the Sea of the Dawn; gold and silver pieces from the dwarfs in the Northern Shires; wooden items from the elves in the Eastern Shires; and, objects from every sort of craftsman throughout all Cruachan, as well as from abroad.

  Pádraig returned acknowledgement nods from the elves. The Tangled Woods, the semi-autonomous homeland of the elves in the Eastern Shires, overlapped both Muraisc and Gaileanga Shires. When the young wizard had been assigned to the journeymen wizards from those two shires, he had ventured into the Woods; and, with the help of his elf friend, Cadwgawn, had made quite a few acquaintances there.

  Being naturally friendly, he also waved and smiled at the dwarfs. However, as was their manner, they completely ignored him, returning neither waves nor smiles.

  Chuckling to himself, Pádraig couldn’t help but think of the new student wizards and their first lecture the following morning, given by the Venerable Coinneach himself, Master of the Academy, on An Fearglas’ creation of the world.

  This would be the perfect spot to give that lecture, he thought. You’ve got most of everything right here where you can see it. Air, Water, Earth. Maybe not Fire that you can see, but you know it’s down there. Rocks, Woods. Men, Dwarfs, Elves, Creatures of the air, land, and sea. And the Daoine Dofheicthe? Well, they’re always around somewhere.

  And then he recalled the lecture verbatim, as would the new student wizards for the rest of their lives, after hearing it in the morning:

  In the beginning there was An Saol Eile—Only An Saol Eile and the Void.

  Flames, and dust, and mists, and winds swirled endlessly within the Void. Aside from these, the Void contained nothing—nothing but darkness.

  An Fearglas looked out upon the Void and saw the potential for much more than confusion and nothingness.

  Stretching out His hand, An Fearglas captured each of the four elements one-by-one from the Void. First, He obtained Earth—the millions of specs of dust that had swirled around from the beginning of time. Next, He acquired Air—the wind that drove the vortex. In turn, He then secured Fire and Water. When He had possession of all four elements, all that was left in the Void was total darkness.

  Taking these four elemental forces, An Fearglas compressed them and formed them into an orb. Then breathing His Spirit upon the orb, He cast it back into the center of the Void where it began revolving in place. This was the end of the first day of the creation of the World, and An Fearglas saw that it was good.

  As the World spun on its axis, An Fearglas separated out the four elements; but, rather than allowing them to return to disorder, as they had been, He confined them each to their own place. Splitting Water from Earth, He created the dry land and the seas, lochs, and rivers. Taking Air, He placed it in a layer above the Earth and the Water. With Fire, He buried it deep below the surface of the Earth and the Water. This was the end of the second day of the creation of the World, and An Fearglas saw that it was good.

  On day three of the creation of the World, An Fearglas divided the darkness of the Void into day and night, placing the sun to light the day and warm the World, and placing two lesser lights, the moons—Silver Nightingale, the smaller and closer of the two, and Golden Owl, the larger and farther away—to provide a bit of light even in the darkness of the night. He also placed an incalculable number of much smaller lights, the stars, in the nighttime sky, so as to aid in navigation around His World. And He saw that it was good.

  On the fourth day of the creation of the World, An Fearglas looked at what he had made and caused vegetation and plants and trees of various kinds to spring forth from the land. He also made provisions for their continuation by causing them to put forth seeds, each of their own kind. And He smiled, as He saw that it was good.

  An Fearglas then turned his attention to the Water and the Air above the Earth. In the Water, He populated it with all types of sea creatures and swimming things. In the Air, He created every winged bird. On the Earth, He fashioned every type of animal imaginable. And He told the creatures in the Water and the birds of the Air and the animals of the Earth to be fruitful and multiply, and to fill the Water and the Air and the Earth each with their own kind. This was the end of the fifth day of the creation of the World, and An Fearglas saw that it was good.

  On day six of the creation of the World, An Fearglas thought, “I must have stewards to tend this World for me and assure that all is maintained properly, and that harmony and balance are preserved.” And so He created the Daoine Dofheicthe, the Hidden Folk, and gave them charge over the World that He had created out of the Void. And as He had with the creatures of the Water and the birds of the Air, and the animals of the Earth, so, too, He charged them to be fruitful and multiply, expecting them to manage the World’s resources suitably for all time.

  But the Daoine Dofheicthe turned out to be haphazard stewards of the World’s bounty. Although some took their mission seriously, many did not, preferring, instead, to look after their own desires and pleasure. Loath to uncreate anything that He had brought into the World, on the seventh day of creation, An Fearglas, instead, fashioned the three races of peoples—Men, Elves, and Dwarfs. And He gave them charge of different aspects of the land based on the material from which He had created them. Out of the soil, He created Men to be overseers of the land. Out of the wood of the trees, He created Elves. And from the rocks, He created the Dwarfs. Like He had with the other living creatures, He charged them to be fruitful and multiply, and to fill the World with their own kind. And He saw that it was good.
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  On the eighth day of the creation of the World, An Fearglas simply smiled at His handiwork and blessed it all; and, with the work of creation complete, He rested.

  * * *

  Entering The Rope and Anchor, Pádraig spotted his father, sitting alone at a table for four near the back of the room. Although he would have liked to have seen Brynmor and Cadwgawn, he knew how odious elves found taverns and drunken men.

  Finbar, after waving to his son, signaled the alewife, pointing at his own tankard of ale, then holding up two fingers and gesturing toward the place next to him.

  The young wizard exchanged forearm grasps with his father, then took the proffered stool, but waited until the alewife had delivered the two tankards before speaking.

  After an exchange of “Sláinte!” and a deep pull on the tankard, Pádraig simply said, “Lairgnen?”

  “Ahh, Lairgnen,” Finbar repeated. “The section leader in charge of a sea-currach belonging to the Cruachanian Defense Forces, one of our men, spotted some strange activity going on up at North Head a few weeks ago. It appeared as if the Kingdom of the Northern Shires was expanding its beachhead below the cliffs. Not wanting to let his craft get too near the shore for a closer look and draw attention to himself, he waited until their next patrol to check it out again. Sure enough, the beach seemed to be expanding outward.”

  The ‘one of our men’ remark meant a fellow Watchman. Both Finbar and Pádraig, as well as Lairgnen, Brynmor, and Cadwgawn were members of that covert group.

  * * *

  After the Northmen had been ousted from the island in the War for Independence by the then High King Seamus and his new Confederation of the Three Kingdoms, there were people on both sides of the conflict who remained unhappy with the outcome. Some believed that Cruachan would become a republic, and that they would gain the right to elect their own leaders. Others, who did very well under the oppressors—mainly merchants—were not all that happy to see the occupiers leave, maintaining contact with their old overlords and dreaming of prosperous yesteryears.