The Tales of Amergin, Sea Druid

by Peter Green

  Bith and Terese were in complete acceptance of their mission, which was now to escape to warn Amergin…

  Dim lights shone from the fortifications, the castle towering over the precipitous cliff face. The drawbridge creaked downwards over a bottomless crevice, giant chains easing out. “A place of no return?” speculated Bith. Were they hostages, prisoners or emissaries?

  The appearance of the witches changed like the light. Sometimes they were sensuous and alluring, the raven hair, pale skin, sinuous form wrapped in figure hugging radiant fabric. Other times they were hideous and ogreish. Maybe this was deliberate to disorientate them. Nothing was real, nothing was certain…

  Terese too felt the assault on her mind. Who were these women, horrific or beautiful, sensuous or hideous?

  They were taken to a high vaulted banqueting hall where a massive roaring fire, a furnace of heat, threw waves of heat and light into the dark flickering shadows. They were offered seats of baronial proportions, covered in bear skin.

  Banba welcomed them to Hawardden, “Please drink and have sustenance. Later we will show you Hawardden. You will see the futility of trying to escape!” She clicked her fingers and creatures of the dark, in hooded robes brought food on wooden platter and rich golden amber liqueur in silver chalices.

  They ate unusual, unleven bread with veins of green moss rippling through it. They sipped on the liqueur made from crushed and fermented wild oak apples, followed by pungent mountain goat cheese, smoked and spiced with herbs foraged from the steep mountainsides.

  The three raven haired witches talked quietly, obviously deliberating on Bith and Terese’s future.

  One of the witches floated over to the decanter holding the golden amber liqueur. She spoke, offering more of the ‘liqueur of life’, “I am Fodha, the partner of Prince MacCuill.” She introduced her ‘sisters’, “You have already met Banba, wife of Prince MacGreinne, and here is Eiru, wife of MacCuacht.”

  They were all incredibly beautiful, if somewhat sinister, but there was something more about Eiru.

  Bith thought that there would have to be some X factor about the woman who has the ‘heart’ of the dark one, MacCuacht. There was something though, that Bith could not place…

  Fodha continued to pour the rich liqueur, “Please enjoy! We will talk soon…”

  The rich golden amber liqueur ‘brewed and fermented over generations in the grounds of Hawardden’ slipped smoothly down… too smoothly! There was a heady instantaneous hit, inundating the senses. Bith felt dangerously off guard. Terese too, was intoxicated by this potent concoction.

  The food, the drink, the roaring fire and the comfort, Bith suddenly felt himself sinking deeper and deeper…a voice from the spirit world, “Be careful do not trust them!” He was already no longer in control…

  Was that his imagination? Fodha was gliding over the stone slabbed floor! Not touching the ground, she floated, constantly changing, from a beautiful sensuous raven haired woman to a hideously warped creature. All in an instant, smiling, shape shifting, her body wrapping around his… he was being taken, drawn in to a realm of dark shadows and lost souls… his power, his energy slowly being lost to the dark Sidhe…

  Bith called on all his earthly and otherworldly powers! He was a priest of the Chapter of Mystics surely he could not be taken so easily! He fought. He lashed out at the raven haired temptress. He pulled her to the ground, he tore at the luminescent fabric of her gown, “Was he so weak to the sinister charms and magic of these witches?!”

  In that moment there was a burst of radiant penetrating light coming from beyond the veil…

  Fodha’s form morphed from the rapturous beauty back to the hideous. She repulsed him – he felt her influence waning, back and forth from dark to light. His lifetime of training saving him… but the dark forces finally overwhelmed him… he fell in to a deep, deep sleep…

  When he came too… he was out of the mountain fortress. He was on his own, back by the smouldering embers of the camp fire on the ridge where they first met the three witches of Hawardden.

  No sign of Terese of the Xantha, “No! By the Great Spirit! That cannot be!” he sighed.

  Bith looked up towards the high mountains, the fortress, the three witches… another world, another dark dimension. The mist had cleared, the sun just beginning to rise above the mountain ridges.

  No time to dwell! He must go! He questioned the events of the night… did they really happen?!

  He must return to the vessel Fintan, before the all enveloping mist of the night returns, before the dark forces find the vessel and the crew protecting it. There is no doubt the witches will come for him…

  He found the path winding along the upstream river and began the meandering descent to the sea.

  He took one last look towards the high mountain fortress, “Terese!” he whispered under his breath.

  He soon found the place where the black valley bog water met the slowly eddying and pushing briny sea water, “Nearly high tide!” thought Bith out aloud, “Perfect timing, the vessel Fintan will soon be afloat!”

  Bith pressed on towards the rivermouth. The incoming tide was creeping steadily up the river-bank.

  Familiar territory now, he rounded the last bend in the river, and “Praise the Great Spirit!” there was the vessel and his loyal crew. They stood guard by the now gently floating Fintan, moored securely to the same warped and twisted yew trees.

  Bith ran the last hundred yards, startling the crew, who raised their swords and pikes in reflex defence. Instantly they recognised Bith, they ran to him, yelling for joy, hugging and embracing him!

  “Quietly my good men,” Bith trying to calm them, “We must make ready the vessel Fintan. We are in peril. Terese is lost to the dark. A terrible evil tries to possess this land!”

  Bith reckoned that with another hand’s depth of water, the now surging tide would lift the vessel. He hurried the cohort on board. They all instinctively took position to help safely negotiate Fintan away from the shore. Bith untied the mooring rope, half a hand’s depth should be sufficient.

  He looked anxiously inland, scrutinising the distant river bank, his gaze darting from sea to mountains.

  All quiet! The crew gripped the oars and made ready to push off in an instant. The tide surged and the keel broke free of the sand bank. Synchronicitously, each and every oarsman leaned in to their oars with all their might. Soon they were gliding into deeper water. Their spirits lifted their souls free!

  The sea journey began, emotions elated! The journey of survival, and flight to warn the others!

  Bith took command at the helm, he steered them in to mid-stream. The oarsmen pulled strongly, deeply, and with intent. They ventured into the widening estuary, away from the grip of the now racing tide.

  They began to feel the freshening breeze out in the open sea. Bith ordered the sails to be unfurled.

  The mainsail fell in to place. The tide pushed in vain, trying to return them to the river bank. The oarsmen pulled again, the well built, well designed vessel responded in kind.

  The outflowing river water eventually won out, they broke free of the eddying tidal race, and started to plane in the open ocean.

  Bith, looking up at the mountains once more, caught a glint of a reflection in the corner of his eye.

  He steered the vessel further out to sea, another flash of sunlight on metal, the metallic glint of sun on weapons and armour. The army descended from the fortress of Hawardden, the three witches urging them on. Surely they were too far away now!?

  Onwards into the open estuary, they felt the sea breeze strengthen. The skeleton crew unfurled the foresail and lashed it into position. On cue a gust forced into the now billowing sails. The crew prepared for the first tack…

  The open sea! Surely freedom now!

  They all looked back to see the distant figures rounding the last bend of the river.

  The NorWester strengthened again. They tacked again.

  Bith imagined that he could he
ar military commands drifting over the waves…

  Sailing South now, back to the Milesian fleet, one of the crew pointed to smoke rising from the estuary.

  Within minutes a beacon in the mountains fired up, and within minutes of that a beacon on a promontory to the South of them was lit. Warning beacons sending messages around the coast!

  Bith knew they must sail into open sea… They sailed on and on into the limitless ocean, not knowing where the threat was going to come from. Their minds started to play tricks on them, they were powerless.

  Bith steadied himself at the helm, concentrating on the task of sailing and navigating. Immersed in the roar of the ocean and the gusting breeze, he took the final bearings from the disappearing land.

  Soon the horizon was nothing but ocean, and the sun dropping in to the evening sky. The first evening star appeared through the colours of sunset, twinkling ever brighter in clearing night air.

  “Good, a clear night!” thought Bith out loud, “Good for navigating…” He watched as the indigo night sky darkened and constellations appeared one by one. Bith gave thanks to the ancient ones who have given him the training in astral navigation, and the wisdom and knowledge of the cosmos – now converted into practical, survival skills of navigation in the vast expanse of the ocean.

  The course set, the weather fair, his mind drifted, dreaming of his people, and the reception he would receive on his return…

  Bith estimated two to three days sailing, with this wind and this sea state. Perhaps Amergin and the Milesian fleet will have drifted further north than anticipated? Maybe they are sailing to meet them at this very moment? He ordered the watchman to be extra vigilant…

  It was a dark night, no moon, the constellations blindingly intense. The universe unfolded before them, the edge of their galaxy, a glowing white milky path leading them to the safety of the fleet.

  Bith began to relax. He organised the duty rosta, four hour shifts at the helm, four hour shifts on watch. His seafaring skills were unrivalled, perhaps only matched by the Sea Druid Amergin. The crew had faith in him. They were driven on by the prospect of meeting their fellow countrymen.

  Gnawing at the back of his mind, Bith knew his message was vital… Amergin must know of the dark forces that strive to take over the Promised Land!

  At the end of his shift, Bith took one more look to the northern horizon… All seemed quiet.

  A shooting star flashed over the north-eastern horizon… almost in a direct line with the mountain fortress of Hawardden. A disturbing thought troubled him, “Where was Terese? What on earth had become of her?” Another shooting star! Always from the north-east he observed…

  He settled into a makeshift bunk on top deck… ready for any eventuality… but he must sleep…

  Another shooting star sped overhead… “That was closer ...!”

  Lulled into a somnolent state with the lolling and rolling of the vessel. Drifting… drifting…

  “Where was Terese? What had become of her?”

  Tortured, flashing memories. His brave companion gone! Had she been possessed by the three witches? If so, better she was dead! He feared their powers of mind control and shape shifting.

  He bolted straight upright! All her thoughts, all their plans, were now in the possession of the dark forces of the Sidhe… He was leading them straight to Amergin!

  Another shooting star, followed by a warping, morphing cloud of high altitude plasma…

  The ocean suddenly took on a brooding, menacing presence. They no longer had any forward motion…

  Bith shouted at the crew, “Make ready! Be prepared!” the crew instantly on their guard.

  Another shooting star… the vessel seemed rudderless, directionless… They waited…

  From deep within, Bith sensed a spiritual connection, “Terese!!!”

  A message came to him, a voice… “Forgive me, Bith. I could not resist them… I am taken, possessed. I am one of the dark Sidhe… You have no choice… be one with them… or die!”

  Bith knew he had no choice… If he was taken, all the wisdom of Milesia would be in the grasp of the dark Sidhe. A way to Amergin would be completely open. The magical and spiritual powers of the Guardians of Light compromised.

  Bith solemnly called his crew, and explained their lot. He asked for a moments silence to honour Terese. Then prayed for her soul, “May the Great Spirit give her peace and sanctuary!”

  A darkening front started to encroach from the north-east, extinguishing each star, each planet and each constellation, one by one…

  Bith rallied his crew, “Brace yourselves my brave ones, I tell you what needs to be done if all is lost... I will fight to the last, with all my power and strength… Should the cause become futile and all is lost, I will dive into mother-ocean and be taken by her, rather than be consumed and possessed by the dark Sidhe.”

  Fully armoured the crew knew they would sink rapidly and without trace, out of the reach of the dark forces, gone forever. Should they fight too long, they will become possessed, destined to be one of the army of lost souls for eternity…

  Stoically they stood, without fear, resigned to their fate.

  The North Star was soon extinguished. They had lost their guiding star. Resolutely they faced into the unknown.

  They would never lead the witches and the dark Sidhe to Amergin. That would be a fate worse than death! Bith questioned, “But what of Terese? Would she lead them to Amergin? He must be warned!”

  The rolling, all consuming cloud of cold condensing mist and swirling plasma soon reached the vessel Fintan. Beasts and denizens of all shapes and dimensions filled the thick acrid air, demons of the dark. They could not be defeated…

  Bith took the lead. In a defiant gesture, he hurled himself into the ocean.

  The crew followed bravely and unquestioningly.

  Bith’s armour took him rapidly into the depths, light glinting on sword and breast plate, plunging, down and down.

  His last breath leaving his now dying body, he felt his mind going into unconsciousness, his mortal body sinking into the abyss.

  He became aware of a divine radiance from below. Still falling deeper and deeper…

  Now hallucinating, in his dying moments, he saw a vision, a face. It was Terese! A gentle smile upon her countenance, she was enveloped by a golden, amber light. Terese had been able to contact the Guardians of Light!

  In his final moments Bith knew that Amergin had been warned. His mortal life had not been in vain.

  The ocean abyss was now a rich amber cosmos… he was still falling and falling into the eye of Mother Ocean. An eye with a mysterious dark fleck that drew him in, and in, falling deeper and deeper…

  CHAPTER SEVEN:

  THE WRATH OF MACCUACHT

  Amergin now knew that the forces of the dark Sidhe were waiting for him and the Milesian nation.

  The voyage of the prophecy had taken on a new dimension… the avenging of the lost souls of Bith, Terese and the vanguard of his most loyal and brave Milesians.

  The fleet that had waited patiently for the return of Bith, Terese and the vanguard, now started to make ready. Ropes untied, sails unfurled, sheets fastened… the anchors were raised, the entire fleet jostling and readying into position like a stallion waiting for race orders.

  Amergin held the Milesian flag aloft, a flag embodying the prophecy – a tower, a flagship, the Northern Ocean and constellations guiding their way. Once raised, the fleet sailed towards the Promised Land…

  Only yesterday evening had the Guardians of Light visited Amergin in his dreams, they brought the message from Terese. She had been fleetingly able to free herself from the control of the three witches and send a warning, “The dark Sidhe have been awakened and are forewarned! They inexorably take control of the promised-land! The Guardians of Light, represented in the mortal realm by the High Priestess of Xhara and Princess of the Western Province, Sceine, wait for you!”

  Amergin visited Scota, the Queen of the Milesians, his
mentor and muse, “Mother I have seen Sceine again in my dreams. She is an enlightened being of such great beauty. She is surely the one I am destined to be with. So it is prophesied! Together we will challenge the reign of the dark Sidhe. Apart, the Promised Land is doomed!” Scota acknowledged this with a smile and knowing nod of her graceful head.

  The prevailing south-westerly winds strengthened, filling the billowing sails. The Milesian flags straightened, pointing their course. Amergin felt his heart and spirit bursting with energy, passion and belief in the cause. The Great Spirit was guiding him to his destiny!

  Sceine returned to her high mountain fortress of Sliebh Mis. The Western Province will be the battle front. Her blessed father knew this when she was given the choice of province to rule over!

  Word came from the north that the Milesian emissaries, sent by Amergin, had been either possessed or martyred! They had encountered her brothers’ wives, the three witches, at the mountain fortress of Hawardden. They had done their dastardly worst! MacCuacht must be proud of them!

  Sceine was relieved to know that a message had been given to her destined one, Amergin. She had gone to Amergin in his dreams. They met together beyond the veil. They were as one…

  MacCuacht, her dark brother, had announced that he would be visiting the fortress of Sliebh Mis.

  He wanted to pay his respects to his father once more. Sceine saw her brother as the real threat. She sensed that her brother was increasingly the representative of the dark Sidhe in the mortal realm. Treachery ran through his veins. He had disobeyed his father Antiem whilst in the Northern Province, incurred the wrath of the Firbolg, and incited the demons of the dark Sidhe.

  MacCuacht was visibly incensed when Sceine was granted the Western Province. The most powerful of all the provinces, and anointed the High Priestess of Xhara. Surely as the eldest, he was the rightful heir.

  Antiem, however, had seen through his eldest sons’ malevolent ways. He had deliberately broken the Kingdom up in to provinces. No one sibling had total authority or control. Antiem had anointed Sceine as High Priestess of Xhara, effectively the spiritual leader, because she was the purest of heart, and only she could truly connect with the Sidhe Guardians of Light.