by C.S. Fanning
no local, and his presence at the ceremony was as mysterious as his presence at the river now.
The old man waved to them across the river, and then motioned for them to stay down. They were shocked by the fact that he was clearly aware of their presence, but each felt strangely compelled to comply with his direction.
“Those dogs are going to tear him apart” Fianna whispered.
“I don’t think so” Aeden replied, not sure of why he felt so certain, but positive nonetheless.
They watched with growing anticipation as the hounds bounded toward the old man. Just as the lead hound leapt in what should have been a throat rending attack, the old man stepped back and smacked the big hound on the snout with a thin branch. At first the beast appeared to be enraged by the annoying lash, but even as its mates joined it they all began to scamper about the old man like pups vying for the master’s attention.
It was comical, in a way, to watch this display after the stresses of past few minutes. After each of the big curly haired hounds had come forward for a pat on the head the old man turned and trotted into the forest away from the river. The hounds followed him, their voices once again taking on the long peeling howls of pursuit as they chased after the old man.
Moments passed, as the sounds of the hounds grew farther from the river, and the sound of galloping horses rang out on the road across the river. Three riders appeared along the far bank, turning downstream to follow the sound of their hounds. The old one-eyed man was long gone, but the sounds of the hounds, though growing fainter, still clearly marked where they chased him through the dense woodland. The riders stopped at the water’s edge, casting about for signs, and Aeden had the feeling that they were as keen at tracking as the hounds they followed.
The riders were hooded and cloaked, making them difficult to distinguish, except for the apparent leader who appeared to be wearing an antlered crown. The children of Bretharc grew up hearing stories of the horned god and his hunt, so the imagery was both familiar and terrifying. The distant baying of the hounds suddenly grew more intense, a sure sign to a hunter that the quarry was close. Two of the riders mounted their horses then, giving chase. The horned rider remained where he was, casting his gaze back and forth across the ground near the water’s edge. Finally, he paused for several seconds, and then mounted his steed. Riding right to the point where they had launched the boat. After studying the ground there for a time, he lifted his head and looked all around.
Aeden was unnerved for the first time since the appearance of the old man. This horned rider scared him in a way that nothing ever had. There was a wrongness about him that was inexplicable. As he sat upon his horse, Aeden privately prayed that he would follow his comrades, but his hopes were dashed when the rider rode straight forward into the stream, urging his horse into the water.
Fianna looked at Aeden and he saw his own fears mirrored in her eyes. He knew the question weighing on her mind and though he knew the answer he should give, the terror that filled him made answering her all but impossible. As he looked at her he saw Fianna’s fearful expression slowly harden. A fierce look of determination wrapped in bands of steel fell upon her countenance. Aeden could tell that Fianna’s decision was made and like it or not they were not running this time. Nodding his understanding he tried to master his fear.
Fianna spoke to Faolan and Quinn as he watched the rider’s progress. Wordlessly Faolan joined him as Fianna gave her final instructions to Quinn. They watched as the rider made the shore on their side of the river and began working down the shore toward them. Despite the fear in his eyes and the quaking of his limbs Faolan drew his twin set of skinning knives, setting his stance in a defiant pose. Aeden, seeing his friend master himself so, drew his sword and steeled himself against the terror that was eating away at his own determination.
As the two friends waited for what both thought could well be their doom in the shadow of the great willow, Fianna clambered up in the branches of the big tree, while Quinn led Riordan and Teagan deeper into the thicket. They didn’t have long to wait, for the rider approached steadily and unwaveringly toward the very tree in which the three waited.
The rider was perhaps twenty feet away when Aeden, flanked by his friend stepped through the curtain of branches to face the source of their terror. “You will come no further rider!” Aeden spoke hoping that the quaver in his voice was only obvious to himself.
“Such an impudent child; give me the druid’s pupil and I will not flay you where you stand” the rider replied in a voice that spoke of evil deeds and dark powers.
Even as he finished speaking, Aeden heard the telltale twang of Fianna’s bow. He had seen her shoot three men today at much longer range than this rider now stood and expected to see this man fall dead from his saddle, but as the arrow streaked toward him the man flexed the fingers of his hand and the arrow shattered midflight, falling harmlessly to the ground. He flexed his other hand, and Aeden and Faolan heard a grunt, followed by the sound of snapping branches and then to their terror Fianna screamed. The sound of Fianna’s scream ended yards from where it began with a sickening thump.
Fianna’s bow had been their best and perhaps only hope, and now they didn’t even know if she still lived. Something inside of Aeden shifted, and just when he thought that he might well bolt in terror, the fear drained from him and he lifted his sword, filled with new and deadly purpose. “You will not have what you come for” he said, the new found strength of his voice surprising even him.
A wry grin spread across the stranger’s face, only to fade at the sound of new voice. “I claim this one, pretender. Be gone from this place or suffer my wrath.”
Aeden and Faolan both started at the sound of the woman’s voice just behind them, twisting about to see this new arrival. It was indeed a woman, who appeared to be wearing nothing more than a cloak of raven feathers. She was bathed in a cold green glow that seemed to emanate from within.
The rider’s eyes widened, recognition dawning in his expression. “This concerns you not crone” he ventured, clearly distressed by the woman’s sudden appearance.
“If I have chosen a mortal champion, then I have made it my concern. Your concern should be what will happen to you when the one you are pretending to be discovers what you are doing in his guise” she responded in a voice that suggested she was talking to an errant child.
The two young men on the bank had no idea of what these two strangers were speaking of, but for the moment it appeared that Aeden and Faolan had acquired an unexpected ally. The woman certainly didn’t appear to fit the description of a crone to Aeden’s thinking as she stepped past them to face the rider, but now was not the time to be admiring her form, no matter how revealing her unusual cloak.
“You seem to know who I am so you should know what I am capable of. Ride now; your gods have no power in these lands to match my own” she spoke in rising ire until her voice rang like the clash of steel on a battlefield. Aeden trembled suddenly suspecting that he knew who had come to their aide.
“Perhaps we shall see crone” the rider said, extending his hand as he did. A gout of flame stretched forth from his hand and engulfed the woman, wreathing her in fire as Aeden and Faolan fell back. The heat from the flame was nearly unbearable and for a moment the hopes of the two young men seemed wasted.
Just as it felt as though the very air around them must surely ignite, a throaty call like that of a crow resounded from within the sphere of flame surrounding the woman, and an enormous black bird erupted from the fire trailing smoke and ash in its wake as it hurtled toward the rider. As it streaked forward it transformed into a blinding bolt of concentrated light and struck the rider in the face, knocking him bodily from his mount.
Faolan turned his eyes from the sudden light, but Aeden watched in awe as the rider was cast into the river. The horned helm flying high into the air was split asunder and then consumed by the turbulent waters of the
river far out from the shore. As the glaring light faded Aeden could once again see the woman, who he was pretty sure was no woman at all, standing in the shallows by the shore. The rider was dead or senseless, bobbing in the stream as the current carried him away.
“Camlinn, take him to your mother and ask her to see him from our shores” the cloaked woman said. Camlinn was the name of the river, and Aeden doubted not that even the rivers listened when the Morrighan, the great queen, spoke.
Aeden climbed back to his feet, and pulled Faolan up with him. As she turned slowly to face the boys, Aeden took a knee and bowed his head. Faolan hesitated but a moment before mimicking Aeden’s pose. He was confused and unsure of what had transpired, and his memory of the past few moments was clouded. He didn’t understand why Aeden was showing such deference to this strange woman, and was dumbfounded when Aeden spoke to her.
“Thank you for your aide my queen; how may I serve you?” Aeden said without raising his head. To Faolan, she appeared to be just some crazed and rather lewdly dressed hermit woman, but Aeden referred to her as a queen and placed himself in her service. Didn’t they have enough on their plate? Had Aeden hit his head or something?
“Will you serve as my champion and do my bidding in this realm?” the strange woman asked.
To Faolan’s utter horror Aeden responded immediately. “Yes my queen.”
The Morrighan smiled sweetly. “Very well and nobly answered, I will grant you this boon as reward for your continued service. Lay your weapon upon my hands” she told him.
Faolan heard nothing after Aeden’s agreement to serve as her champion, the confusion that permeated his mind becoming so intense that later he would only vaguely remember what had happened since their crossing. He neither saw nor heard when Aeden rose and following the goddess’s instruction lay his blade upon the Morrighan’s outstretched hands.
The blinding light reappeared, this time coming from the palms of her hands and enveloped the blade. The intricate carved patterns seemed to capture the light and absorb it. After a moment the light faded leaving the blade glowing dully in the moonlight.
“This blade is now linked to your will. Its edge will cleave anything that your mind can grasp so long as you are in service to me. Sometimes even we of the old ones cannot perceive all outcomes, and such is the nature of this blade. I sense that this weapon’s destiny will be bound to the lands of the Gaels long after we are gone, you and I” the Morrighan said softly.
Aeden had honestly believed that the gods of his people were nothing more than legends until one of the most powerful of them had appeared to him this very night. Now he arose, the mortal champion of the goddess who had been his favorite in the tales of his childhood. “My queen you are eternal, no blade could outlive or outshine you.”
The Morrighan’s gaze fell upon Aeden. “If you were bit a little older and a little bolder I should think you were flirting with me.”
Aeden blushed and lowered his eyes once more, then, realizing where his own gaze rested, jerked his head back up, his shame redoubled. He was trying to speak but words would simply not come to him. Thankfully the Morrighan spoke again.
“Don’t worry my champion; you are a bit young to be my consort. If you serve me well as my Champion, we might have to revisit this conversation another time, but not now” she told him with a smile and a flirtatious wink, before growing somber once again. “The truth is that even we are not eternal, and someday even we shall fade from memory. Others will take our place. The sword you now hold has the power to slay even a god if the wielder who commands its power has the will and integrity. For now you must continue upon your quest; help your friends to their own destiny then return to me. I will be watching you but I cannot interfere again.”
Raising her arms high, the feather cloak shimmered, and where the Morrighan had just stood an enormous raven now flapped its wings. As the jet black bird flew away over the river Aeden raised his sword in salute.
Into the Hills
Aeden guided Faolan to where he thought Fianna might have landed. Faolan was finally beginning to recover some presence of mind and began to ask questions. Promising to answer him when they had found Fianna and rejoined the others, they spread out and combed the area looking into the dense undergrowth and climbing through the brambles with growing concern. Neither of them was certain what directions Fianna had given the others, so they didn’t know how near or far they might be. It seemed that it had only been a few minutes since they had parted but the growing light in the east spoke of the hours that must have elapsed.
Aeden could not understand where the night had gone, but the growing light provided at least one answer to the questions that plagued them. They found Fianna in the fork of an enormous oak, and she was beginning to stir. Fianna was scraped and bruised and there was a huge knot on her forehead where she had clearly struck the great trunk. One eye was swollen and turning dark. She came to enough to begin asking questions. Faolan had climbed the tree to assist her in climbing down, but he had few answers to give her, and his memories at this point ended at nearly the same place as her own. He tied a rope around her and slowly lowered her down from the tree. Fianna’s descent was painful as Faolan lowered her into Aeden’s waiting arms.
As Faolan worked to crawl down from the tree, Aeden inspected her wounds. For the most part they seemed minor but she was breathing rather shallow and any attempt to breathe deeply was clearly painful. A broken rib could make travel extremely difficult, especially for any distance.
The rider’s horse had to be somewhere nearby and once Faolan was back on the ground Aeden left him to tend to Fianna while he went to see if he could locate the animal. He was thinking that if only he could find the animal, and it was not too spooked to catch, it would make the journey ahead much easier for Fianna, when the animal stepped from a patch of brambles just ahead and trotted right up to him.
It was a regal beast, roan in color and of a breed Aeden was not familiar with. Of course, in Bretharc, there were two kinds of horses. The huge draft animals used to pull the plows and wagons in the potato fields and the little ponies that were used as pack animals by the pig farmers who were ranging hogs far from the village. Except for village children, these were never ridden being too small to carry an adult. The horse that walked up to Aeden that morning was easily twice that size but far more streamlined than the great plow horses. This was a horse bred for travelling. The beast had appeared high-strung and skittish with his former master, but now the tension was gone and while still spirited he seemed calm and gentle.
Aeden and Faolan were assisting Fianna into the saddle, largely against her stubborn will, when they heard a twig snap in the underbrush nearby. The boys were a flurry of motion as they drew their weapons and placed themselves between the source of the noise and their injured leader. A movement from the undergrowth drew their eye and to their relief they spotted a grinning Quinn smiling at them.
“I told you not to stop until you reached the Shannon” Fianna wheezed from the back of the horse.
“I am well aware of what you said, but you didn’t calculate Riordan’s hard-headedness into your orders. I couldn’t carry him all the way down the Camlinn and he refused to go any further until we knew what had befallen the three of you” Quinn replied, his normal jovial nature unshaken by the difficulties that they had faced on the way.
It was afternoon by the time they all regrouped and made ready to continue. Teagan had treated Fianna whose wounds were mostly superficial. The ribs were another matter and Teagan had bound them as tight as she could, after discerning that three of them were cracked. It didn’t help Fianna’s temper much, but it was all anyone could do.
Aeden’s story of what had occurred was met with some doubt, especially in light of the fact that Faolan had no memory of the events he described. In growing frustration at the doubts of his friends, Aeden had drawn out his sword, which
showed no outward signs of its transformation. In aggravation at the doubts of his closest friends, he struck the nearest tree with the sword. No one was more surprised than Aeden himself when the blade sliced cleanly through the trunk, causing Riordan and Faolan to have to jump aside as the thirty foot birch came crashing the ground where they had been standing. That had ended any debate about Aeden’s story, and any doubts his companions might have still harbored were kept to themselves.
When they set out Fianna rode in front with Aeden beside her. “Aeden, you do know about the Morrighan right?”
“Well, yes, we’ve all heard the tales of her since we were little” he replied, wondering where this was going.
“Yes, the children’s stories, but she isn’t exactly a kind and benevolent goddess Aeden” Fianna said, hoping he would see her point.
“She is a goddess of battle, not some hearth maiden or crone!” Aeden said, surprised by his own agitation.
“Exactly! How peaceful do you think life as her Champion will be?” she asked.
“You are alive; we all are, because she chose me. You would have me refuse her service?” he demanded.
“Aeden, I’m just concerned that you may have volunteered for more than you realize” she retorted clearly growing angry with his tone. Spurring the horse she shot ahead, leaving him to nurse his own anger.
Fianna was worried about Aeden, but she was more concerned with her charge to lead this small group to the druid isle. Only three of them were likely to be much use in a fight, and now she had to question the loyalties of one of that number. Her father had taught Fianna to hunt and to fight since she was very young. He’d served as a professional soldier before retiring to the quiet village of Bretharc because of an injury that forced him to give up his lifelong profession. He’d taken up farming which he admitted was every bit as difficult but speed and agility were not as important. The result of his teaching was the Fianna had been forced to grow up fast, separated from her peers by the imposed secrecy of her father’s discipline. She had not been able to share with her peers, and the freedom they enjoyed had often angered her. She was often wrathful at the foolish antics of her own age group, but in truth some of her anger was born of jealousy.
Now the most impetuous and foolish of the small group that she was supposed to lead had pledged himself to the phantom queen. She had to admit that he had enjoyed some luck, perhaps enough to appear