As she picks up the sword, Aoife is filled with confidence. This is the finest blade that she has ever wielded and, with it, she cannot fail.
And yet, there lies Thorun.
As the Sword of Light guides her into the heavens, Aoife has a distinct impression that the sword has its own will...
For a moment Aoife feels unsure, even with the confidence the blade bestows upon her. If this blade has its own will, can she properly interpret it? Either way one thing remains clear to her, this blade is all that can keep her friends safe.
Trying not to focus upon the fact she was many feet in the air, Aoife turned her focus inward to the blade. If it had a will of its own then maybe a connection could be made, and an understanding reached. Either way Aoife was not going to hold back. She didn't wish to kill the woman, after all she had been nice before and it was their own fault for misleading her, but she did want her to leave them alone for good.
Seeing the giant Thorun fall to the ground, the hag cackles! Assuming that it was the best of the heroes who rose first to challenge her, she is now confident that she will be victorious despite the fact that the storm is fading. Gusts of wind continue to blow around her as she lashes Aoife with whips of electricity. Her first attack goes wide, but her second strikes true!
Aoife felt the impact of the group far more than the impact of the storm. Still, even fairly sure she had multiple broken bones, Aoife never let go of the blade. Gripping it tightly she allowed it to take her into the air once more.
With every failed attack, the hag seems to get stronger. Her bloody wounds heal and her confidence grows. Even when Aoife hits the ground and succeeds in standing once more against all odds, the hag is supremely confident.
And she is right: even with the storm fading, even if she can no longer call upon lightning to strike them down, she is distinctly more powerful than they are.
Aoife gathers what little courage she has left and, looking at her companions for perhaps the last time, she charges into the air...
...and severs the hag's head!
The headless hag plummets to the ground while Aoife floats down and lands just steps away. Daire and Ruadhan – who witnessed the final blow – cannot but be relieved as they also assumed that the battle was lost and that Aoife was flying towards certain death.
Sister Cobhlaith is oblivious as she prays with all her heart and soul for Thorun to live. Over and over again she incants prayer after prayer, begging, pleading God to return him from the dead.
Finally, he stirs and she sobs, taking the big man into her arms. With tears in her eyes, she looks up at her companions and attempts a smile.
"He's alive," she reassures them – and herself. Barely.
Thorun's eyes slowly open. His entire body looks like it had been thrown into a scalding cauldron, deep burns showing damaged muscles and even bones exposed to the open air. All the death-defying strength he had shown moments ago is gone and he now more closely resembles an old man on his deathbed. He weakly grips Sister Cobhlaith's hand, looking around until he sees Aoife with the magic sword in hand. He coughs, clearing his mouth of blood and gives a weak smile. Then he rests his head back down and closes his eyes.
When Thorun falls to the ground, Ruadhan tries to move to catch him, but just doesn't have the speed. Pulling his shield round, he places himself between the goddess and Thorun and looks to Aoife, an encouraging grin trying to mask his fear for her. When Aoife is buffeted to the ground, he starts forward, stopping when she rises again. Even knowing Aoife's fighting abilities, his jaw drops at the ease with which she lops off the hag's head, but recovers in time to stand over Thorun, mentally ringing his hands as Sister Cobhlaith prays. Practically ecstatic at Sister Cobhlaith's affirmation that he still lives, Ruadhan sets to barking orders. "Aoife, take a seat, you took a big hit there, but keep an eye on the body, I don't trust much here. Sister, keep doing whatever you are doing, just keep him alive. Daire, get a fire going if you can, but keep it small and smokeless if you can. I'm going to work on something to move Thorun if we need to move quick."
Aoife was shocked when the sword cleaved off the hags head... or was it her? At this point she wasn't sure. But the damage to her body finally caught up to her. She forced herself back over to her friends and clasped next to Thorun. She offered him a pained smile in return before looking to the others. "Ruadhán..." She said, then held the sword out to Ruadhán. "We'll get her back, Ruadhán.... If she's there, we'll get her back..." Aoife promised.
Daire keeps calling, louder still to try and be heard over the storm.
Thorun falls.
Aoife rises.
And the hag is slain.
I hope!
Daire hears Ruadhan, and simply nods.
Focus on this...
The briars and the brittle willows make Ruadhan's task of building a proper travois for the massive Thorun near impossible, but allow Daire to build a fair fire. Wounded and shaken by their most recent battle, the heroes of Largay are more than happy to settle for the night as the storm fades.
They all know that they are lucky to be still alive.
Not long ago, they travelled to the Otherworld thinking their journey would be quick and simple. Since then, many days have come and gone, along with countless trials. And their journey is far from over. They must still find the Spear of Lugh!
Eventually getting fed up of the futility of his work, Ruadhan throws the brittle materials to the ground. "I'll take the first watch. Get some sleep."
Placing his weapons to hand, Ruadhan takes over tending the fire and regularly checking Thorun, while the others rest.
"Aoife, thank you, although u hope we do not all face such hardship and risk. It would hurt me to find her and lose one of you. You hold on to that for now, you have shown you can use it and my skills lie more with blocking blows than giving them. "
Daire has all but slumped onto his back by this point, but still has a quip or two left in him this eve.
"Aye Aoife, hold the sword tight by, you can clearly wield it well! You can debate with Thorun in the morning over it."
He cannot help but glance over in the direction of the hag's remains.
Aoife seemed a little surprised at their words. Her keep the sword? But why? The Sword of Light, a masterful creation from legend itself in the hands of a slave? Was that even allowed?
"... Very well." Aoife said as she kept the blade at her side. Her thoughts turned to the comments her friends made. That she can wield it and that her skills have been shown but... was it really her skills? Or was it that of the Sword of Light?
In the morning, the weak sun in the gray sky offers little warmth. Still, Sister Cobhlaith's prayers have miraculously given Thorun the strength to continue their journey and they get on their way. They are all eager to head home, but they have still to find the Spear of Lugh – which is why they came here in the first place!
And then there is the matter of finding Ruadhan's wife.
Either way, their path lies north. For days, they walk through hills and forests, across lands that are at times strangely familiar, which is contradictorily disquieting and comforting.
Thorun gets up in the morning, groaning and sore-looking but at least moving under his own power. He finds the nearest source of water and douses his head in it, shaking his wild mane like a dog before pushing the hair out of his eyes. "Ahh! Damn, still alive, and still here worst of all. Aoife!" He cries, turning in an attempt to find her as he blinks wearily. "Ye killed a damned goddess!" He roars with a laugh.
"Aye, she did at that! How about we stroll by Largay?"
Aoife, who was half asleep when Thorun bellowed her name, jumped and looked at the large man. When he and Daire commented on what she had done she gave a small chuckle. "I guess I did..." Aoife said. "Though I wonder if it was the sword honestly..."
"I'm a little nervous on going by Largay honestly but if it is the way we're going I guess it cannot be helped."
They make their slow way North. Leaving the mounts of the Dingle peninsula, they travel through the wooded hills of Kerry and into the plains of Limerick. They cross the river Shannon and head into the mountains. Descending into Galway, they trek through heavily wooded forests, careful to avoid the dangerous bogs, until they reach the increasingly familiar rolling hills of Leitrim. Travelling on the eastern shore of Lough Allen, they finally reach Cavan...
It takes ten days to reach Tuaim. Home. But here – like everywhere else in this bleak and forsaken world – the light of the sun shines feebly and there is only death and decay. Everything is foreign, strange and discomforting. There is nothing here that reminds them of happier times – nothing to give them hope. Homesick and eager to be on their way, they move quickly across the clearing where the village should be...
...and then they see him. Or it. It roams aimlessly, it's mouth agape, its form tortured and emaciated. It recoils then they near, fearing the light of Sister Cobhlaith.
But there is no doubt: King Coffey McGovern is dead.
Aoife, tired from the journey and just wanted to finish what else they have to do and get out of this place stops and forgets everything upon seeing the specter. Legs weakening, Aoife pushes herself foreword with her eyes locked upon him. She had to be sure. Had to know. When she was only one word left her mouth "Father?"
The undead only stares at her hungrily. Only the divine presence of Sister Cobhlaith keeps it – and all the others that roam the land – from attacking.
Daire stares in mute horror at the sight, his mouth agape.
What...what happened!?, he thinks, too stunned to speak.
Not recognising the restless dead as anything other than another spirit residing here, Ruadhan is surprised when Aoife calls out. Recognising the tone of anguish from his own, he quickly places himself between Aoife and the hungry spirit. Placing his hands on her shoulders and trying to look her in the eyes, he trusts to the others to guard his back. "Aoife, he cannot tell us anything, like those we met at my old home. All we can hope to do is hurry back and hear the nature of his passing from those we left behind. I cannot and will not tell you to grieve or not, but let us be away from this place first."
Daire hisses:
"Before you Ruadhán, is the hungry shade of King Coffey McGovern. And aye, we do need to leave."
"You think I'm going to just leave my father here?" Aoife asked. "No, I will not. We already have to find a way go get your wife's soul out of here, now we can see if it is even possible." Aoife pointed out.
"Aoife, the man is *dead*. There is little to be done."
"Wait Daire, she has a point, I have been told there is a way to save my wife, but not how or what that is. But Aoife, before we go to far down this road, bear in mind we have no knowledge of what we will have to sacrifice to save them. If it costs my life, I will go gladly to save my wife, and i fully expect a soul for a soul. I do not doubt your courage, but what I can say as a parent, albeit a lousy one, is no parent would want their child to die to save them. I'll back you all the way to that stage if that is what you want, but I won't help you do that. Deal?"
Daire waits for Aoife's response before continuing.
"I understand." Aoife said as she gave Ruadhán a nod. "I will say though that this man was never a parent. My mother raised me, he was my sire... but he is still my kin and my father at that. I have to try..." She told them as she began to spin the golden ring upon her finger, her mother's ring. "This isn't just for myself, but for mother too... Her soul isn't here, so for her I'll save him. With how she spoke of him she loved him looking back."
Daire looks from Ruadhan to Aoife and then sighs.
"As you will, Aoife. But whatever you do, let us not linger long in this shadow of Largay."
"All the more reason not to sacrifice yourself. Come, let's tie, him if we can, it won't be dignified, but than he can at least be no risk yo us." Looking for something to tie and gag the restless dead king, Ruadhan will sacrifice strips of his cloak if needed. With that he will push to get them moving again.
Shaken by the appearance of the King of Largay in this distorted version of Tuaim, the heroes continue on their way. Having travelled in these parts it in the past – albeit in another world – they make good time, heading East into rolling hills and then going North.
Dark clouds loom above in the grey sky; and by midday on the second day of this leg of their journey, they can see the mass of blackbirds flying above what would be Derry in the mortal world, and what is here home to The Morrígan of legends.
Sister Cobhlaith studies the compass, which points further East.
Aoife stopped looked around before letting out a sigh and turning to Ruadhán. "This is your choice." She began, "We can go and get your wife now, or we can get the spear first." Aoife explained. "The spear would give us another weapon to use against them beside the sword..."
"The spear, we an do nothing if we can't cut through those who stand in our way." Thorun chimes in.
"I say we go for the spear. Worst comes to worst, we can leg it with two legendary weapons.", Daire finishes with a grim chuckle.
Ruadhan stiffens at Aoife's comments and stares into the distance as he thinks, his eyes water and a single tear runs down his cheek. Taking hold of himself once more, he speaks slowly as if he is having to force the words out. "I want my wife freed from this place more than anything, but we owe debts and I won't see my friends and a country that was prepared to take me in, go down because I lost focus. We get the spear and then if it all goes wrong, one of us gets out of here with one or both of the weapons to save Largay and Prince.. now King Fintan. Then we go for my wife and for your father Aoife."
At this point Ruadhan goes silent, but you see his mouth move, before he makes the sign of the cross.
They continue on their way. For another three days, they follow the compass, which guides them steadily northeast until they near the coast. Where in their world would be a small fishing village, they see only a single, fair-sized and sturdy home in the near distance.
Light spills through the closed shutters and smoke drifts from the stone chimney. Clearly, someone is inside...
"This would be Portballintrae if we were home, a small village, but more than just one house. Means we are getting close to the Giant's Causeway. "
"Certainly we are near the Causeway. It might be worth chancing knocking on that door. Sleeping outside has nearly slain us many a time here!"
Aoife took the steps foreword to the door of this small home and gently knocked. This place was already a glimpse of hell and Aoife was beginning to adapt to it. Danger around every corner, just like their world. So if this person turned out to be nice then maybe it'll make their day.
"Come in!" a pleasant voice answers her knock. When she enters, she discovers an immense hall with a long table and a massive stone hearth – a room that is far bigger than the outside of the house would logically allow.
At the far end of the hall, sitting on an intricately carved throne is a handsome fellow with fine features and a fair smile. He sets aside his book, which magically floats away and sets itself on a bookshelf in a corner, and rises to meet his guests.
"Aoife FitzStephen," he greets her, much to her surprise. "I was beginning to fear that you would never come! Please do tell your companions that they have nothing to fear. You are all my guests and so long as you respect my hospitality, no harm will come to you."
His pleasant demeanour belies a barely veiled threat, but he seems genuine enough. And the hall does seem most warm and inviting!
"I am Abarta," he introduces himself.
Above his head, hanging on the wall above his throne, Aoife sees a long spear. The Spear of Lugh!
Thorun raises an eyebrow suspiciously at the voice, and is about to duck in when he stops. He frowns, steps away for a moment and looks around the side of the building, then comes back to the door. "Not the weirdest thing we've seen here I suppose." He shrugs and enters.
The veiled threat washes over Thorun's shoulders. Don't attack him and he won't attack us, fine with me. Even if he's trying to say he will win. We just put down a goddess. But still, he was never one to rise easily to jabs, and nods while scanning the room. It doesn't take him long to see the spear. Hmm, don't imagine he'll let us borrow it. "Nice place. Got any food?" He asks, knowing the scarcity in this strange place and wanting to stock up whenever possible.
The look of surprise upon Aoife's face at this person knowing her name wasn't hidden, then after he introduced himself all fell more into place. At least a bit. "The doer of deeds..." Aoife muttered. "We, thank you for your hospitality." She began, "Might I ask how you've come to know my name and that I belong to it? There is very little for a God to take interest in. Not to mention if you know who I am, are you aware of why we are here? After all you just said "beginning to fear that you would never come", so why wait for me?" Aoife asked.
Daire enters the home, and looks about appraisingly and with a smile.
"Aye, Abarta, the doer of deeds, who got one over none less than Fionn mac Cumhaill.", he says, trying to keep his note of being impressed light.