Cian and the captain looked at each other, both with eyebrows raised. Although there had been no female shire chieftains that either man could recall, they didn’t know of any specific law prohibiting a daughter from inheriting the title.
After a few moments, the captain said, “I can see no fault with that logic, Revered Madam. And, since you were not involved with the insurrection, in fact were instrumental in bringing it down, I hereby turn over control of Árainn Shire to you. I will, however, continue in command of the ráth until such time as the Reconciliation Commission has completed its work.”
“That will be satisfactory, Captain,” Máiréad replied. “I’ve had a long two-day’s journey; so, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in, now.”
Willowday - Fox 11th
Central Federal Region - Dúnfort Cruachan
Although a few puffy, white clouds floated overhead, the sun shone brightly in the blue sky, taking the edge off the otherwise chilly morning.
The Confederation and Eastern Shires forces had pulled back from the border with Gabhrán Shire and had re-established their line south of the hillock outside the citadel where the cromlech stood, its three megalith stones arranged in a partial circle.
A semicircular table had been set up in the center of the cromlech, facing the north. The two master wizards in attendance took their places, standing behind the table—Arch-Wizard Faolan, Guardian of the Green Stone, in the center, with Fergal, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Eastern Shires and Guardian of the Blue Stone, to Faolan’s right. The empty space next to Fergal would normally have been filled by the Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Northern Shires. The two spaces to Faolan’s left were also both empty. Taliesin, Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the Western Shires and Guardian of the Black Stone, still unable to travel, was the designated survivor of the Sodality who would appear by scry, only. However, due to Taliesin’s weakened condition, Coinneach, Master of the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted and Guardian of the Purple Stone, had elected to remain behind at Taliesin’s island in Tulach Shire, as well, and would also appear only by scry.
As the watch bell above the seaward tower tolled out eight peals, four pairs of two knells each, signaling the end of the morning watch and the beginning of the forenoon watch, King Ríoghán, astride his red-chestnut stallion, flanked by Field Marshal Gormán and Chancellor Ultan, slowly rode southward from the Gabhrán Shire border, followed by all the officers of the Security Forces of the Northern Shires who had accompanied Ríoghán on his failed quest for independence, and behind them, the enlisted men.
The officers and soldiers pulled their horses up just north of the hillock, while the three men in the lead continued on up to the cromlech. There, Déaglán, High King of Cruachan, waited on foot with Prince Liam and Field Marshal Gearóid.
The three men from the Northern Shires dismounted, approached the High King, withdrew their swords from their scabbards, saluted with them, and stuck the weapons, point down, into the ground in front of Déaglán.
The High King acknowledged their actions with a nod of his head. Calling out for everyone to hear, he said, “We are gathered here this morning to peacefully and formally end what could have been a bloody and costly civil war.” He then gestured to the two members of the Sodality of Master Wizards who were physically present.
In response, they removed their seeing-stones from their belt-bags and placed them in indentations on the table in front of them. Emptying their minds of any distractions, they gazed deeply into their stones.
Within seconds the two orbs began to glow, and within a few seconds more, the images of Taliesin and Coinneach appeared in the empty spots to the left of Faolan, their apparitions as tangible as if the two wizards were actually standing there in person.
“Seirbhís a Tír, my brothers,” Arch-Wizard Faolan said, in the language of the ancients.
“Agus Rí,” Fergal and the two apparitions replied.
The first tenet of wizardry—‘Service to Country and King’—having been voiced, High King Déaglán said to the members of the Sodality, “Your service is much appreciated. Now, to the matter at hand. Most Venerable Faolan, would you kindly read out the terms of the Articles of Capitulation, which both King Ríoghán and I have signed, but leaving the final article for later.”
* * *
After the articles had been read, Ríoghán, Gormán, and Ultan, in turn, acknowledged and apologized for their parts in the insurrection, and pledged their allegiance to the Confederation. Following them, the officers of the Security Forces of the Northern Shires did the same, as well as the two journeyman wizards who had accompanied Ríoghán’s troops—Caoilainn from Cairbrigh Shire and Fintan from Gabhrán Shire.
The reconciliation process for the two journeyman wizards was painful for everyone to witness. After their acknowledgements, apologies, and reaffirmation of the first tenet of wizardry, they removed their blue mantles. The Revered Álmhath, the senior journeyman wizard from Iorras Shire, stood by with a pair of red mantles which she exchanged for the blue ones.
Although both Caoilainn and Fintan had tears in their eyes, Álmhath wept all the while she made the exchanges. She and Caoilainn had graduated from the Academy together and had maintained their friendship, albeit long-distance, since then.
Caoilainn forced a smile as she traded mantles with Álmhath, then squeezed her friend’s hand and whispered, “Don’t cry, sweetie. Fintan and I knew what we were doing, knew that it violated the first tenet, but did it anyway. Rejoice with us that the penalty exacted was not what it could have been.”
Instead, Álmhath sobbed even more intensely, as she returned to her place on the Confederation side of the cromlech.
With the reconciliation process complete, Déaglán smiled and said, in a loud voice, “With these admissions, acts of contrition, and pledges of fealty, you are all, once again, warmly welcomed and accepted, unconditionally, as members of the Confederation of the Three Kingdoms. Let us rejoice at this reunification.”
Cheers went up from the troops on both sides of the cromlech.
The two kings, Liam, Gearóid, Gormán, and Ultan exchanged forearm grasps with one another; then, the field marshals and chancellor returned to where their officers waited.
Once the roars of approval had died down, the High King beckoned to the members of both royal households.
Joining Déaglán, Ríoghán, and Liam at the center of the cromlech, facing the citadel, Queen Ginebra came forward from the south, as Princess Teagan and Queen Radha approached from the north. Liam and Teagan moved directly in front of their respective mothers, facing them.
“Now, to bolster this reunification,” the High King continued, “let me joyfully announce to all of you the final term of the Articles of Capitulation—the handfasting of my son, Prince Liam, Deputy King of the Western Shires, to the Princess Teagan, daughter of Queen Radha and the late King Cabhan, and sister of King Ríoghán.”
Roars, cheers, whistles, and applause again burst forth from the assemblage.
Liam and Teagan faced each other and grasped each other’s hands, right to left, as both mothers removed the sashes from their gowns. Each stood to her offspring’s right and tied her sash to one pair of hands.
“The wedding will take place less than one month from now, on Mid-Spring Day,” Déaglán announced, “when the two great houses of Seamus and Conlaoch will be forever united. May An Fearglas bless this betrothal and the reunified Confederation of the Three Kingdoms of Cruachan!”
The entire company repeated the divine entreaty, performed the ritual act of submission, then gave the newly-handfasted couple another tremendous ovation.
Liam forced a smile onto his lips, thinking, I wonder what goes through a stallion’s mind, when they bring a prize mare to the stud farm? Is he happy? Or does he just go about his business because that’s his job? Well, your time has come, Prince Stallion. Time to perform.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Teagan’s and felt hers
to be most willing, indeed.
While everyone applauded and cheered again, Liam enjoyed the moment, wondering, Will I ever grow to love her? She is very pretty. There’s something to be said for that. And she seems thrilled about this union.…But she’s not Meig.
Breaking the clinch, he took a surreptitious look around. Neither Máiréad nor Pádraig had attended. He really hadn’t expected them to. And even though he would never forgive Pádraig for what the young wizard had done, and knew that Máiréad would never forgive either of them, somehow the prince felt an emptiness, standing there on this auspicious occasion without the presence of his two former best friends.
Turning and waving to the troops on both sides, he escorted his betrothed into the citadel for the feast that awaited them.
* * *
After the feasting, toasting, and kissing his betrothed every time tankards were rapped with spoons, Liam approached his future brother-in-law.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I wonder if you would take a walk with me out in the ward. There’s a matter of importance I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Of course, Liam,” the king replied. “But let’s skip the formalities, shall we? We are, after all, almost family. Just ‘Ríoghán’ will suffice.”
Alderday - Fox 12th
Tulach Shire
Pádraig, Cadwgawn, the journeyman wizard Labhrás, Isla, and her dwarf army had set out from Fort Callainn on Fox Fourth, overnighting on the road, and arriving at the dwarf mountain enclave the next evening.
Killian either had a sixth sense about their arrival or a very good nose. He began a series of whinny-brays when Pádraig was still rods away from the compound. The young wizard dismounted his borrowed horse and ran to the stables, saying, “I told you I wouldn’t forget about you,” and wrapped his arms around the mule’s neck.
Had Killian been a dog, he would have wagged his tail. Instead, he just kept up the whinny-brays for another five minutes, until Pádraig could calm him down.
* * *
That night, at a feast hosted by Bhàtair, the Mountain King pulled Pádraig aside and said, “My daughter tells me yuh acquitted yuhself admirably, laddie, and that my previous concerns turned out tuh be unfounded.”
The young wizard shrugged. “The need arose, Your Majesty. I did what needed to be done, based on the situation at hand. As did Isla. We could not have crushed the rebellion without her and your dwarfs. I’m sure you have the gratitude of the High King, as well as all Cruachanians, for the vital part your people played.”
Bhàtair chuckled and said, “I appreciate Déaglán’s gratitude, as I’m sure he’ll appreciate the bill which I’ll remit tuh him in due time.”
* * *
The next day at Sléibhín’s hut, Pádraig reiterated to Labhrás what he had said to him before. “Believe me, when I tell you that, although I lost the argument on the demotion of the journeyman and apprentice wizards, I haven’t given up. As time passes and tempers cool, I will address the issue again with the High King and the Arch-Wizard.”
“I appreciate that, Revered Sir. I really do.”
“What are your plans, Labhrás? How long do you intend to stay here?”
“I’m not sure. I guess that, once a new Court Wizard for the Kingdom of the Northern Shires is named, I’ll meet with him or her and we’ll go from there.”
* * *
The trip home proved uneventful for Pádraig and Cadwgawn, until they reached the citadel late on the evening of Fox Ninth. Although they had planned on spending the night at the forge, after seeing the burned-out building, they opted to bunk at Cadwgawn’s artillators’ booth at the marketplace, instead.
* * *
On the morning of Fox Eleventh, while on their way from Fort Luíne to Fort Báinigh, Cadwgawn detected a quietness come over Pádraig.
“This morning is it?” he asked.
The young wizard simply nodded.
The elf glanced over at him. “Do you wish you were there?”
“Part of me does.”
“The part that would like to have seen the formal acceptance of the Articles of Capitulation that you helped craft?”
Pádraig nodded again.
“But not the handfasting,” Cadwgawn said, matter-of-factly.
“Not the handfasting. I no longer have a place in the prince’s life.”
“Are you sure?”
Pádraig rubbed his jaw. “He made it perfectly clear.”
“Time occasionally changes matters.”
“Occasionally.”
They rode on in silence.
* * *
It was on the morning of Fox Twelfth when the two went their separate ways, Cadwgawn to the Tangled Woods and Pádraig toward Tulach Shire.
“Even with this treaty,” the elf said, as they temporarily reined in their mounts, “we must be on our guard. I realize that, politically, amnesty had to be granted at very little cost to the rebels; but, words come cheaply. It is their actions that we need to keep a sharp eye on.” He grasped Pádraig’s forearm. “Cosaint, Paddy. And don’t be a stranger to the Coedwig Dryslyd.”
“Agus Seirbhís,” the young wizard replied. “I’ll keep in touch.”
The Watchman motto of ‘Protection and Service’ having been voiced, the two rode off in opposite directions.
* * *
It had been a long week. While no one could ever question Killian’s endurance and heart, the mule simply was not built for speed. In fact, he had only three velocities—very slow, slow, and moderately slow. Pádraig had tried his best to keep the animal at the moderately-slow level during their trip.
Darkness had long ago engulfed them. With a clear sky, a waning gibbous Golden Owl and a new Silver Nightingale, every star in the night shone brightly. Being the second week of Spring, the chill had gone out of the air, so the young wizard pressed onward, determined to reach the Venerable Taliesin’s island that night. To pass the time, he had practiced on all the instruments in his packsack. He currently plucked various chords on the lute.
“Here’s one you haven’t heard, yet,” he told Killian. Strumming an opening chord, he began singing a song, making it up as he rode along.
“There once was a mule who drank from a pool.
A pool where fishies would play.
He slurped up a trout,
Then went into a pout, thinking,
Fish aren’t as tasty as hay.”
“How about that?” he asked, after a final chord.
Killian snorted.
“I just made that up, you know. From scratch. Out of the blue. No rehearsal at all. You could be just a tad more supportive.”
The mule snorted again.
“Fine. Be that way.”
* * *
Wizard and mule finally reached the stone bridge over Salmon River, the only entrance to and egress from the Venerable Taliesin’s island home. Although they had traveled the last few leagues in darkness, it was not that exceptionally late, perhaps nearing the end of what would be the evening watch at Fortress Tulach. Pádraig looked forward to seeing how much the elderly wizard’s essence had been recharged during his absence and hoped that Taliesin would still be awake.
A quarter of the way across the bridge, though, the young wizard realized that something was amiss. There was way too much light around the five-story, black-and-gray-stone round tower. A dozen or so torches blazed in the yard. And milling about were a handful of men whom he recognized as apprentice wizards.
A chill went up Pádraig’s spine as he saw Muircheartach, the senior journeyman wizard in Tulach Shire, exit the round tower and slowly shake his head before lowing it to his chest.
Giving Killian a heel in the ribs did nothing to encourage the mule to increase his pace. The animal was already at his top speed of moderately slow. Pádraig leaped from the saddle and started to run the remaining distance across the bridge. Tripping once, he picked himself up and sprinted toward the round tower, screaming, “Noooo!” as tears flowed, unche
cked, down his cheeks.
Oakday - Fox 16th
Tulach Shire
The overcast sky seemed quite appropriate for the Venerable Taliesin’s passing-over ceremony that morning. It reflected the overall mood of the attendees.
Dark-blue and purple flooded the sacred oak grove in Tulach Shire, next to the master wizard’s round tower. The two squads of Cruachanian Defense Forces, not out on patrol who were stationed at Fortress Tulach, plus the High King’s escort, had joined Tulach Shire’s entire company of Security Forces of the Western Shires, aside from a few soldiers left behind to provide basic security for the fortress.
As each member of the company left the grove, he or she took one of the rowan-wood bowls that had been provided and scooped up a portion of ashes from Taliesin’s now-smoldering, but spent, funeral pyre, scattering them over the creek that ran from the sacred spring, to be carried along with the holy water toward Salmon River.
First were soldiers from the defense forces, followed by the security forces. Then, the civilian population who attended, led by Shire Reeve Tuama. Finbar, Brynmor, and Cadwgawn, were among that group. The two elves had joined the bowmen from both the defense forces and security forces in firing flaming arrows into the late master wizard’s pyre.
The wizards of the shire, in order of rank, lowest to highest, made up the second from the last contingent, leaving the Venerable Coinneach, Master of the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted, the Most Venerable Faolan, Arch-Wizard of Cruachan, who had officiated at the ceremony, Prince Liam, and High King Déaglán as the final group to clear the gap between the two largest oak trees that afforded ingress to and egress from the enormous sacred grove.
The Embers are Fanned in Cruachan Page 41