by Peter Green
Amergin’s thoughts and dreams took him deep beyond the veil that night. The proximity of the Portal of Sceilge gave him a spiritual connection to the portals of the Western Province...
He travelled to the fringes of the Woodlands of Derwydd and on to the high mountain fortress of Hawardden... here was the evidence that Amergin needed... he saw the army of lost souls marching remorselessly on. The dark forces were gathering and soon they would travel to the Temple of Xhara...
The veil warped and thinned again. He was losing the connection... his mind was becoming numbed and anaesthetised... A cold mist encroached in to the fringes of his dreams, darkening the technicolour, hallucinogenic qualities of his inner visions. Someone somewhere was influencing his dreams and intruding beyond the veil. In the recesses of his subconscious mind, he became aware of a shadowy spectre..! He was awake and back to reality, swinging gently in his hammock, deep in the gunnels of the vessel…
He blinked hard trying to focus... peering in to the dark recesses of the cabin... did that shadow move? He fell out of the hammock dagger to the ready... his vision became accustomed to the low light... He knew he was alone... just the vestiges of his dream. Amergin realised though that in his journey beyond the veil, he was not alone! The spectre must have been MacCuacht! He must be more careful next time! If he went too far, got too close, then the entire mission could be jeopardised. The spirit world was not a realm exclusive only to the enlightened ones...
Amergin had much to learn still... the realms of a dream world could easily turn to nightmare.
Uncontrolled, the world of his dreams could become the world of his nightmares... he could draw the demons and denizens of the dark Sidhe through the Veil. Without more care he could be the one to channel the dark forces to the mortal realm.
Amergin was suitably chastened. He must learn to calm his mind before sleeping. He must learn to connect with the Guardians each night. His position of power and spiritual enlightenment must be harnessed and used for the good of his people. He must not be complacent. He vowed to pray to the Great Spirit each night, to meditate... and for the sake of his sanity he would connect with Sceine each night...
Awake now, but not yet time for his watch. He lit an oil lamp at the navigation desk. He carefully studied the maps that MacCuill had drawn. They were works of art, with detailed descriptions and drawings of each day’s events. More importantly he would take all the meteorological signs and the sea state of the day and attempt a map projection for the following day. Amergin would then draw on all his years of marine experience to make a judgement on the course and planned progress for the coming day. MacCuill’s local knowledge has its limitation, but was essential as a basis for Amergin’s judgement calls. Amergin as a master mariner, with a sense of the bigger picture, was aware that tides, lunar cycles, and weather systems would make the real time decisions for him.
The druidic powers vested in him by the ancients of Milesia and the training given to him by his father Milidh and the Queen Scota, combined with the otherworldly and magical powers of the spirit world and his destined one Sceine, will hopefully give him the wherewithal, the ability and the skill to navigate a safe and speedy course around the Island of Destiny. He would need all his powers to counter the malevolent intrusions from beyond the veil by the dark Sidhe...
Still an hour before his watch, but unable to sleep, Amergin took a quill and some parchment paper.
He opened his mind letting his creativity flow and his imagination take charge. He began to write poetic verse. Automatically he wrote, channelling his imagination, the words were his mantra. He was channelling universal poetry to guide him and calm him...
*
“There is no path, only a walk in your own direction,
A place to go, a way to be, a sense of reinvention,
A spirit’s release, a mind’s eye belief, some inclination,
To see the world, with love in your heart, imagination,
Discover yourself be free of life’s regime, a proclamation,
A journey to you, the greatest distance travelled, an explanation,
Suffice it to say, your path is your way, your inspiration,
Heart felt, sublime, in nature Divine, an incarnation”
*
Amergin had found a sense of unity once more... unity with his nation, with the Great Spirit, and with the Island of Destiny.
*
Unknown to Amergin, the dark one MacCuacht could manipulate the veil at will, but only in the Eastern Province where the portals were compromised. Here the dark Sidhe of the spirit world could penetrate the veil and enter the mortal realm. MacCuacht happened to be conspiring with his dark mentors when Amergin came through the veil to spy on him. Amergin was far from the safety of the Western Province when he was discovered. MacCuacht instantly countered, determined to prevent Amergin finding out his intentions... at that moment he read Amergin’s mind and he discovered the Sea Druid’s intention to make the sea journey north, circumnavigating the Island of Destiny... meanwhile the army of lost souls gathered in strength. Lost Tuathans and lost Firbolg joined the demons and denizens of the dark Sidhe…
MacCuacht looked on in satisfaction, “Tomorrow we will begin the march to the Temple of Xhara!”
Amergin had been mistaken to try to attempt to infiltrate his realm. That night MacCuacht would summon the dark Sidhe and send his demons and denizens to the Northern Ocean to slow his progress…
Amergin took his turn at the helm, taking over from Xomas at the tiller. He checked the position of the fleet in relation to the constellations of the night sky... they were on course, a fleet to match any adversary. The prevailing south-westerly pushed them on steadily. Five degrees east of the Northern star Polaris, two days sailing before they would tack to the east, according to MacCuill’s map.
Good visibility, a following wind and a continuing good sea state. He thanked the Great Spirit and the sea god Manannan, and lashed the tiller firmly in to position. Hour upon hour of perfect sailing, they were making good progress to the North of the Island of Destiny. The moon traversed the sky, slowly setting over the mountain ranges of the Western Province, silhouetted across the silver-black sea.
Unfamiliar outlines now, as they began to sail past the landscapes of the Northern Province. A feature of barren lunar limestone carst glowed white in the stark lunar light. Sea cliffs of monumental scale rose out of the deep ocean. Massive swells crashed on shallow jagged reefs at the base of the sea cliffs. A myriad sea birds wheeled on the updraughts and divers plunged deep in to the green black ocean, moon light danced on the waves, lighting up luminescent spray. Raucous calls of gulls echoed around the natural amphitheatre.
They sailed with the pushing tide, pushing them effortlessly along the coast of this magnificently strange land.
The south-westerly eased in the cool crispness of the early morning, the air heavy and dense at this hour. A mile offshore, a safe distance from currents eddying and boiling at the base of the cliffs and well away from the ferociously breaking surf. Amergin watched as a four hundred foot sea stack came in to view. From this vantage point, the Western silhouette of this massive sentinel, lit up by shafts of moonlight, was threatening and haggardly. “The Sea Hag of the North!” exclaimed MacCuill. He turned to Amergin to explain the significance of this hideous landmark. “This sea stack is steeped in the mythology of the ancient Firbolg. Tales of ancient mariners who had come to grief in the storm bound seas off this coast, tales of wreckers and pirates. Legend has it that beyond this sea stack are many islands with deep water anchorages, haven for the infamous “Pirates of Grannh.”
The coast line soon began to shelve more gently, limestone reefs shaped in to sharp and jagged, tortuous formations by waves and weather, a vast bay opened before them. Amergin turned to MacCuill, “Which route do you suggest, map maker?” The choice was to sail directly in to the vast bay, potentially risking the deep water havens in the lee of the islands, favoured by the Pirates of Grannh or
to risk the seaward, open water route exposed to the storms of the Northern Ocean.
Before MacCuill could answer, a watchman cried out, “Beware! A squall arrives!” A down blast from the six hundred foot sea cliffs caught the entire fleet by surprise. Too late! They tried to batten down the hatches.The cool calmness of the dawn had been shattered by this violent vortex descending like a freight train. This phenomenon was normally associated with storm conditions, when wind sheer and sea cliffs produce damaging gusts of sail ripping force. Amergin was fearful now! The pushing tide and drifting current had taken had taken them rapidly inshore. Far too close for safety!
He called to the oarsmen to take up position, “Row for your lives!” he cried. The mainsail had already been shredded by the violent down blast. He saw the rest of the fleet tipping and spinning as the vortex tore through.
Xomas the helmsman grabbed the tiller as Amergin took over as lead oarsman, pulling for all his might. All the crews were rowing for survival. They were directly under the Sea Hag of the North now! They were being taken by the strengthening drift towards a reef that funnelled and channelled deep water swell into massive waves of serious consequence. Currents, wind and swell pushed them towards the reef where jagged limestone formations pierced the white water with venomous intent.
“Row Milesia, Row!” yelled Amergin. He and Xomas knew that this was going to be too close for comfort. The tide and current had them in its grip!
From the green-black slickness of the ocean, roared powerful deep water waves, crashing with almighty force. The avalanche of white water pounded the reef and the dagger like rocks. Rolling and violently crashing on to the reef and the base of the cliff. The white water turbulence, with nowhere to go now rebounded and pushed back out to sea. A white water rapid swept out and beyond the breaking waves. A current of spume, foam and ozone... Amergin’s vessel was caught! His crew rowing for their lives!
Another keel length closer and they would be taken in to the death zone and smashed on to the reef to become a mass of splintered timber and wreckage “Row…Row for your lives!”… Half a keel length closer … Amergin crouched as a wall of white water crashed over the deck, the vessel pushed through as the emptying surge and tidal race grabbed them and took them clear.They were free! They were back in to the green oily black slickness of the deep water.
His crew slumped over in utter exhaustion. Behind them the next white water monster crashed on to the jagged reef. Now they all turned. Amergin, Xomas, MacCuill, the crew, they all watched helplessly, as they slowly drifted away to safety and out of harms way. They all watched in shocked silence as two vessels came to grief. They were that boat’s length too far in! The white water rapids of emptying surf drew them in to the death zone. They were sucked in and up the face of the heaving waves... they were turned and sucked over the falls and smashed in bone crunching, timber snapping violence on to the dagger reef. Debris and bodies were beaten against the reef and then against the base of the cliff and finally sucked out in the emptying rip. Amergin and his crew could not watch, as they feared for the rest of the fleet. They breathed a collective sigh of relief as one by one vessels of the fleet were pulled over walls of white water, their crews frantically rowing for their lives, and were carried by the tide and currents in to the slack water of the deep ocean beyond...
Thankfully, with no more casualties, the diminished fleet now drifted out and around the Sea Hag of the North... They had been caught unawares! They had learned an appalling lesson. Amergin questioned where that violent down blast came from, at that time of day, in these conditions? He talked at length with his comrades... they could only come to one conclusion... the dark Sidhe...
Amergin ordered the fleet to drop anchor in the serene and surreal quietness of the vast bay beyond the forbidding Sea Hag of the North. Was it his imagination, as they drifted out from the scene of death and devastation, did he see a twisted smile on the Sea Hag’s silhouette? Surely that cannot be!
They anchored all the remaining vessels of the fleet and gathered to hold a memorial ceremony for the crews of the fated vessels. Amergin knew both captains well. He was at sea school with Yorath. He was a fearless, intrepid master mariner. A family man and adored by his crew. Eizac was a captain known for his heart, strength and integrity. His seamanship skills were legendary. He had competed with and pushed Amergin close in swimming marathons and the ocean games, a dear friend and a loyal compatriot.
Amergin blessed the captains and their crews and sent prayers to their loved ones left behind in Galicia. Families and loved ones who waited with great excitement and anticipation, to be the first of the next wave of Milesians to sail to the Promised Land of the Prophecy, now, only the news of tragedy and devastation awaits them. Amergin cursed the dark Sidhe. He looked out over the vastness of the Northern Ocean. He felt deep down that this sinister deadly event had been orchestrated by MacCuacht…
Xomas stepped up beside Amergim, “My lord, we have a critical decision to make now. Do we go in to the bay or risk the storms of the open ocean?” Amergin was snapped out of his reverie... the mission must continue! Milesia must prevail! This was Amergin’s judgement call now... the safety of the fleet and the success of the mission depended on him... He pondered and reflected... Taking MacCuill’s warnings in to account and the wind, tide and weather... “We will go to the open ocean! Make ready Xomas! We will go where our marine skills will be optimised, where we will be strongest and we can fight on our terms!” Xomas agreed with Amergin. The judgement of the Sea Druid was never in doubt. Amergin was the greatest mariner the Milesians had ever seen. It was he who had brought them to the Island of Destiny…
Instinctively the open ocean felt good, even though they would be exposed to the elements. Rather that, than being trapped in the bay with no way out.
As they sailed away from the precipitous sea cliffs, they could see figures gathering, soon to begin their descent down a seemingly impossible track. They carried burning torches to light the way. Still a good hour to sunrise, the lee of the cliff was still in shadow. Like mountain goats they descended.They obviously knew the cliff well. To the unacquainted eyes there was no path...
Before long they arrived at the base of the cliff. A storm beach with debris from the wreckage of the two Milesian vessels washed up and wedged in to the rocks. They must be wreckers! On this occasion the wrecking had been done for them. No need to lure unsuspecting vessels on to the reef this time. MacCuacht had perpetrated the foul deed. They were purely scavengers of the marine debris. Amergin cringed at the thought of these vultures going through the pockets of his dead crew and plundering their personal possessions.
“We must away from here!” The crew sprang in to action, anxious to get sailing. They were soon planing on the freshening Southerly breeze. Half a days sailing, Amergin estimated, and they would be rounding the distant Southerly tip of the outer islands. Now, the first chink of sunlight! Sunrise! A glorious reddening sky and an orange silver mackerel cloudscape reflected across the ocean undulating in a long distance swell. A red dawn and a mackerel sky indicated a weather front... the portents were not the best, and they were headed for the open ocean! In his balanced judgement Amergin still considered the potential worsening weather conditions at sea, to be the lesser of two evils. The Pirates of Grannh were a much greater threat if MacCuill’s tales were to be believed!
Amergin called a meeting with MacCuill. He needed to know more about his foe. They talked quietly in Amergin’s cabin, the vessel gently rolling in the still low sea state, the breeze from the South West steadily strengthening as they reached the open ocean. An occasional set wave sent white water flying past the porthole on the starboard side, obscuring the occasional view of the outer islands.
MacCuill continued with his tale, “The Pirates of Grannh are ancient descendants of the original Firbolg, an invasion force from Thracia. Many generations ago the Firbolg became land bound, their sea skills obsolescent. But this tribe thrived on the ocean, becoming guerri
lla warriors of the sea, attacking all comers, even their own kind!” He had Amergin intrigued and concerned, MacCuill continued, “Even Magire and the Shamen of Land’s End, far to the north of here had been troubled by the Pirates of Grannh. They were free spirits, serving no one and plundering all.”
“How far does their sea kingdom stretch?” asked Amergin.
“Allegedly around the entire Northern Province even as far as the Maum Mountains in the north-east!” MacCuill speculated.
“And what of the war with the Tuathans, how many have survived the forays of MacCuacht?” Amergin was well aware of the treacherous sorties made by MacCuacht, against the wishes of the High King Antiem.
“The sea my lord, the sea is their salvation! As the army of lost souls forayed northwards they took to their vessels. They took great losses when MacCuacht summoned the dark Sidhe. They were scattered to the winds. The survivors rallied and used the outer islands as their sea base.” Amergin thanked MacCuill for his invaluable insights. The Pirates of Grannh were evidently a force to be reckoned with. They must be vigilant!
Amergin was concerned for the safety of the fleet and the success of their mission, but heartened that the Pirates of Grannh, another warrior tribe, had survived the insurgent forays of MacCuacht. Like their shamanic brothers from Land’s End they may become allies? And what allies they would be...
In a ploy to test the water with the Pirates of Grannh, Amergin decided to send one of his vessels back to the Bay of Spideal. From there the crew would march north to meet Magire and the Shamen of Land’s End. They had seen the good heart of the High King Antiem and the malevolence of MacCuacht. Amergin had faith in his captain Forsien. If there was diplomacy to be done and alliances to be made, then he was the man. MacCuill provided a map for the most direct route.The crew, hand picked and hardened warriors. They must sail south, avoiding the islands at all costs. They could be mistaken as insurgents by the Pirates of Grannh. Their demise would be swift... When they see the Maum Mountains on the horizon, they must strike north and from there, march to Land’s End.