Aoife studies the spear and then hands it to Thorun who seems more than a little curious and doubtful.
It is clearly a weapon of extraordinary quality – finely crafted, perfectly balanced, and wickedly sharp. But it does not radiate power as the sword does. A fake? Impossible to say. But it is without a doubt the finest spear any of you have ever seen, or are likely ever to see again.
"Stab me." Thorun says flatly. He turns back to Aoife, then tosses the spear to her. "Shoulder, nothing fatal. Make sure it's real."
"Are you mad?" Abarta exclaims. "Once the spear tastes your blood, its flame can only be doused in your life's last breath!"
"Sounds like fun!" Thorun exclaims, throwing his arm around Abarta and bringing the creature under his arm. "Now aim carefully, remember you're going for me and not him!" He says with a mad grin.
Moving with surprising speed, Thorun reaches to grab Abarta. But Abarta is quick and able, and easily slips away from his grasp. The fairy then incants an ancient spell in the tongue of the Tuatha de Danann, and disappears!
Aoife caught the spear, looking at Thorun like he was mad. "Thorun I'm not going to stab you with the spear!" Aoife proclaimed. "Abarta you don't have to hide, I'm not stabbing you or him with the spear." She said with a sigh shaking her head. "Look, I get that you want to ensure Abarta is trying to fool us, and likely you're right. After all there have been few here who have truly been trying to help us. But we can't keep going thinking everyone is going to stab us in the back... I know you thought there might have been some, trickery involved but I think that most of it has all been in our heads... I broke the compass Thorun, and Abarta has kept his word as have we. Let's finish what we have here, and go home."
Thorun blinks as Abarta vanishes. "Damn, just wanted to be stabbed in the front for once." He shrugs. "So, who's using what weapon? Can't be put out until it finishes its target. Sounds like a b~%*~ to store."
I wonder what I will see...
Daire says nothing and looks intently at the spear in the warrior woman's hands...
Silence. Not a word from Abarta who only moments ago disappeared...
I could tell them. I should tell them. But they wouldn't trust me...they might trust me if I tell them.
Daire takes a breath and turns to the others.
"When I ate the eye, I could see the world through Abarta's eyes. I think I am bound to him in some way. I can not see through him right now though."
"We are bound one to the other, now and forever, Daire McKiernan," Abarta's voice echoes from the far end of the room. "You all have proven the duplicity of humans, but I will forgive the offence and bid you safe travels. You now have the spear as promised. You may leave."
You sense in his invitation, the hint of a threat...
"Duplicity?" Aoife questioned as she stepped up, placing the spear on her shoulder as she did so in a none threatening manor. "Hold that thought Thorun." She instructed before she continued. "We have done all you asked, and you have given us the spear as agreed upon. Thorun's statement, as poor as it was, would not have brought harm to you because I wouldn't have let it. Never once have I tried to trick you Abarta! Can you say the same to me?"
"The duplicity here is your, Abarta, and I will hear no different!"
Daire replies, his irritation plain.
"You would not have let the brute harm me?" Abarta answers, doubtful. "At best, Thorun's jest was in poor taste. But as I have said, it doesn't matter. You have what you came here for. You disrespected my hospitality. Now I bid you leave my home."
"That's right, I wouldn't have. Because if I wanted you harmed Abarta, I'd do it myself and it would have already happened. But I won't stay were I'm not wanted." Aoife said before she moved over to gather the pieces of the compass. "We'll gather our things and go."
"Lwt us be away!", Daire says.
Tired and tested, the heroes leave behind the warmth and safety of Abarta's home and head back into the sombre wilderness. They have recovered two of the four treasures of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and yet none of this seems like a victory. Did the warriors of legend feel similarly when they accomplished the deeds for which they are remembered and revered?
Avoiding Derry, Ruadhan is confident that they will be in Gortnavern in three or four days – if all goes well. He guides them true, crossing the River Bann and finding safety in Loughermore forest for the night. The following day, they continue south towards the Sperrin mountains and then veer west to cross the river Foyle in the evening.
They set camp between the hills to the west of the river. They are cold and wet, but the promise of going home is heartwarming. A second uneventful night leads them to the third day of their treck. When they open their eyes, they are happy to see the sun almost shining. There is a faint hint of warmth that suggests the end of their ordeal...
...and then they discover that Ruadhan has gone!
"He has gone to save his wife. He said that he will meet us in Gortnavern," Sister Cobhlaith explains, her scarred eyes pleading with them for forgiveness. "He made me promise to say nothing until morning. And he told me that we should not follow. I tried to convince him to let us help, but he refused..."
"Ack, that stubborn lunk!", Daire replues in exasperation.
"Ah Sister, you were sworn to it. It is frustrating, since he knows how deadly this world is. But we can hardly chase after him with that kind of head start. Not if we want to complete our quest and leave alive."
"Can you truly blame him?" Aoife asked with a sigh. "But we cannot abandon him... However if we go to Gortnavern as told, then should he not show up we will be too far to help."
"Aoife, Ruadhan has already abandoned *us*. He knew full well the risks of leaving by himself in this place and he did it anwyay. I say we press on and hope that he has the good sense and fortune to rejoin us."
"Oh you damned bloody idiot." Thorun shakes his head sadly. "I wouldn't even know where to start looking."
Realizing that Ruadhan made his choice and that, were they to attempt to come to his aid, it's unlikely that they could catch up and find him, Thorun, Daire, Aoife and Sister Cobhlaith continue on their way to Gortnavern to the northeast.
They walk in silence, their moods foul despite the fair weather.
With the undead still roaming about but avoiding them as before, they reach the hill from whence they came. It was not long ago, but so much has happened since that it seems a lifetime. There, atop the hill, they find Aine waiting for them. And things don’t seem so bad. She brings with her the sweet scent of flowers and a warm breeze – the glorious warmth of summer.
They spend the night, waiting for Ruadhan’s return, hoping that God has guided him safely to his wife….
In the morning, a single raven lands nearby. It squawks and, much to your surprise, Aine seems to understand it perfectly. She nods, smiles, and whispers a seemingly simple spell. Miraculously, the cursed bird transforms into a woman! While the spell seems simple enough for the goddess, the strain of the transformation is too much for the human who faints and falls. Aine catches her and lays her softly on the ground.
”This is Aine – Ruadhan’s wife,” she explains. ”The good man sacrificed his soul to allow his beloved to return to the mortal world.”
Daire looks at the woman with sadness and sympathy. Also, grief in his heart for Ruadhan.
"So, he will not be returning with us. Come, let us leave this place, hopefully never to return!"
"Then there is nothing left for us here." Aoife said as she moved to pick with woman up. "I'll carry her, come then goddess Aine, this is our portal out of here." She explained to the goddess as she motioned for her to go first with a nod.
Daire does not bother to hide his widening smile at the prospect of imminent escape from this place.
They carry Ruadhan's unconscious wife and lay her down beneath the stone roof of the millennia-old portal tomb. She is comely and pleasant-looking, and Ruadhan loved her. Yet it is impossible to ignore the sacrifice that was made to give this woman a second chance and to question if she is worthy. After all, Ruadhan was the best of men, while this troubled woman took her own life and left her children to live motherless…
" Diarmuid and Gráinne once slept here," Sister Cobhlaith comments to lighten the mood. " Gráinne was betrothed to Fionn mac Cumhaill, but fell in love with Diarmuid at her wedding feast. Some say that Diarmuid was loyal to Fionn and refused to run away with Gráinne, and that she threatened him with a geas if he did not go with her. They hid here, among other places. If the myths of our lands are true, then it is safe to assume that the legends are true as well…"
In the meantime, the goddess Aine conjures a vial from her satchel. She removes the stopper, takes a sip, and pours a mouthful of tart-tasting liqueur in the laying woman's mouth. Then, she hands the others the vial, explaining, "it will make us sleep and allow us to travel between worlds."
They drink, and all settle within the portal tomb. Night falls. The sky turns from grey to black. Nearby, they hear the shuffling of the restless dead – of the damned souls that will never find peace in Heaven. And they commit themselves to the right path for fear of finding themselves here, in this cursed place, ever again.
The nearness of the goddess is comforting, at least. Her warmth radiates, and her sweet smell repels the stench of the walking corpses in the darkness beyond. With Sister Cobhlaith at their side, they know now that they are safe from the undead. So they sleep…
***
The morning light is blinding. The warmth of the sun, the notes of flowers and honey in the breeze, the bright green grass as they squint to get their bearings… It's all too much. Sister Cobhlaith, perhaps accustomed to being blind after her ordeal, is first to stir. With tears in her scarred eyes, she sits up, kneels, and prays with fervour and pure joy!
" Praise the LORD, o' my soul! How many are your works, Lord! In wisdom, you made them all. I will sing to the Lord all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live."
It is her prayer that warns old Amergin of the heroes' return. " Finally!" he exclaims. " Welcome home!"
Daire does listen to the good Sister. He does love a story after all, well woven and well told. But he is so damned tired. He takes the draught of potion with no hesitation whatsoever.
If I never wake up, at least it won't be in that place. Hah!
The warmth of the goddess reminds him. Reminds him of many things and many people.
*************
Then, light.
"Argh, my head! Praise the Lord, though!", calls Daire, as he struggles to rouse himself and rise himself off the ground.
"Hello Amergin! How long has it been?"
”It’s been over a year since you travelled between worlds," Amergin explains. ”Summer will soon set on the year 1167! I have been long waiting for your return… Where is Ruadhan? And who ––“
He stops himself when he sees the Goddess Aine. He takes a step back.
”You!” the goddess exclaims, unknown before fury in her eyes. ”Amergin Glúingel –– I was told that you were dead.”
Home, yes. Aoife woke up rubbing her eyes and giving a smile to Amergin. However that smile faded when she learned it had been a year. Of course it had... They had to travel to far through the whole place to get everything. Time passed the same in both worlds it seemed.
But when the goddess turned, furry in her eyes, Aoife lept into action. Placing herself between the goddess and Amergin. "A slip through time. You will not hurt him." Aoife declared. "The time of your kind against theirs is over. You both may remember it, I understand, but that is long gone."
Thorun stares at the old man for a moment. "A...." He stares in disbelief, then just shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "F@@% that place. I need a drink."
A note of anger enters Daire's voice along with sadness.
"Ruadhan gave himself up to save his wife's soul. So he is gone."
He takes a moment, trusting Aoife to take care of the uppity goddess if necessary-
Now that is a strangely bold thought!
"A year? A bloody year!? Yes, that makes sense in a way. That cursed place played tricks on us and pushed us harder than I thought we could be and live. But most of us did make it back. The Sister is not so well though, it was hard as I said."
Old Amergin doesn't flinch when the Goddess turns against him and smiles when Aoife intervenes. " You know my power," he threatens Aine with supreme confidence. " You know that I can send you back as quickly as you came. If you are here, it is because these heroes have decided that it should be so, and so I will allow it. But I assure you that if you turn to bitter cold, I will not be dissuaded from destroying you once and for all!"
The Goddess pales. She holds her head high but doesn't dare challenge the old man. She does not know that his power has faded!
Seeing his old enemy cowed for now, Old Amergin turns his attention once more to his companions. "What matters is that you have returned. And that you've found the Spear of Lugh… And the Sword of Light!"
He marvels at the treasures and, as they all make their way back to Largay, he listens to their epic story with rapt attention. They tell about the hordes of Sluagh and the clouds of pestilent blackbirds; about being chased by the terrifying Cù-sìth; about the rat-like Far Darrig; about defeating a tribe of Glashtin; about the lure of the Leannán sí; about facing the Dobhar-chú who resides in the well at the source of the River Boyne and eating the Salmon of Knowledge; about meeting the Goddess Aine and, with her help, felling the Hag of Beara to recover the Sword of Light; about meeting Abarta, defeating the Benandonner, and entering a pact with the Doer-of-Deeds in exchange for the shard of the Spear of Lugh –
" A pact with Abarta?" Amergin interrupts. " Nothing good can come of that. But I imagine he never gave you a choice. In any case, if I were you, I would speak to no one of any of this, for fear of being accused of having lost your minds or, worse, heresy!"
Sister Cobhlaith nods, then sighs, " no one would believe us anyway."
The voyage South is uneventful. Guided by Amergin, they make their way through forests and fields. The memory of the Otherworld lingers like an old wound – a dark nightmare that sometimes clouds the mind. But the warmth of the sun always reminds them that they are back among the living. And the sight of the conifer trees North of Upper Lough McNean brings tears to their eyes.
Home.
Holywell, Belcoo… and then across the river to Tuaim…
Daire nods.
"Not a word of this to others. Also, to echo the good sister, who would believe it?"
************************************
Daire wears a smile. A genuine one.
"We are free of our recent troubles and the sun shines! Ah, things are not so bad for a spell!", he says, obliquely referring to the group's recent harrowing in the Otherworld.
The people of Holywell hail them with praise as they pass the chapel. A boy runs off ahead and by the time they reach Belcoo, people are already on the mud path, gawking. In Tuaim, the villagers have gathered before the king's hall and cheer.
The village seems... small. And empty. Clearly, the warriors that left to join Connaught never returned.
The doors of the hall are open and, inside, King Fintan McGovern sits on the throne. His mother Dubhdara of Largay, daughter of the powerful McKiernans, stands behind him, along with his long-time friend Brother O'Maille.
When they enter, the king greets them loudly and proudly, "ALL HAIL THE HEROES OF LAYGAY: DAIRE MCKIERNAN, THORUN MADSEN, SISTER COBHLAITH, AND AOIFE FITZSTEPHEN!"
Aoife seemed unsure of her she felt about all the praise that they got while they came through the area. "This is... Strange." Aoife muttered but she kept her path to home. Though she wondered if they were actually home, and not back in that horrible place with next to no one.
However upon entering the hall and seeing Fintan and Brother O'Maille a smile broke over her face. "Brother, my friend" She greeted them both as she stepped in. Obviously she didn't care about the fact she had once been banned from the Hall. "I've got stories for both of you, trust me it is something that you'll even have problem believing." Aoife told them very simply, she didn't even acknowledge Fintan's mother's exsistance. "We found what you asked for, and.." Aoife placed her hand over the pommel of the Sword of Light "Something else, but this one is mine. I am keeping it. How have things been? A year gone, I'm sure it wasn't easy for you all." She said as she looked from Fintan to Brother O'Maille and back again.
And then it dawns on Aoife: Fintan called her by her full name...
"The spear of Lugh!" Fintan marvels. "I am pleased to see that my brother's legacy has been fulfilled and that his call, which crossed centuries, was answered. And I am more pleased still that you have returned."
While the king speaks, Brother O'Mailles steps out from behind the throne to retrieve the spear. With a friendly smile, he greets them all before speaking in turn.
"This artifact is a gift of God, and it is by His design that it will serve to fight the darkness. Praise be His light!" He hands the spear to Fintan, who answers, "Amen!"
"Amen," Sister Cobhlaith follows, crossing herself. Yet in her eyes, there is no triumph, only sadness.
"What of Ruadhán Ó'Brolacháin?" Fintan asks, to which the nun answers, "He sacrificed himself to save his wife Aine from eternal torment. Blessed be his soul. Here she stands in his stead."
Fintan sighs, "He was the best of men, and I will remember him fondly. You are welcome here, Aine Ó'Brolacháin. You and your children. For his deeds, he was to be awarded home and cattle. They are yours."
"Thank you, my lord," the woman answers softly. In the days since their return, the woman has proven herself to be impossibly quiet – no doubt, the price of ages spent in torment. There is a worrisome fragility to her.
"Daire McKiernan and Thorun Madsen, you also have proven yourselves friends of Largay, and I would consider myself honoured to count you among my Aire Désa."
Then, he turns to Aoife. "Aoife FitzStephen, my sister and friend –"
His mother pales when she hears this public admonition of Aoife's birth. But it takes only a moment for her to regain her composure, and a cruel smile crosses her face.
"– you were there when we heard news of the High King's death – when everything changed irrevocably. Since then, you have fought at my side and in my name. You have shown yourself to be the bravest and truest of warriors, and it is unseemly that you should be anything but free. So I have decided to grant you your freedom. Let it be known, from this day onward, that Aoife FitzStephen lives by her own will!"
"Under condition!" Lady Dubhdara of Largay intervenes, almost gleefully. But her elan is cut short by Fintan, who raises his hand to shush her.
He takes a moment. "Indeed, under condition. In exchange for your freedom, it was negotiated that you would never again be allowed into Largay."
Lady Dubhdara cackles, ever so pleased. But again, her delight is short-lived.
"While this means that you can never again enter this hall, Brother O'Maille has assured me that you will always be welcome in the lands of the Church of Ireland across the river, in Boho and Holywell."
Fintan allows himself a smile. He may yet prove himself a worthy king!
All the fanfare, the threats, the rejoicing, the honors. It was like wind passing over Thorun. He had been spiraling into a place of darkness, regardless if he was willing to admit to it, but he was starting to get a new grip on his drive. But after that absolute clusterf!#! of a mission in that gods-forsaken world, he had only a few things on his mind:
A large meal, enough booze to get him trashed, a warm bed, and a soft-skinned woman to join him in it.
He had more than earned his keep in there, it was time for some rest and relaxation.
At first the news that she wouldn't have to fight for her freedom like she had planned was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard, but when Fintan told her the conditions, her smile fell. She looked at him, disbelief and betrayal colored her face, however it was soon gone when she got an idea. "Then I ask something of my brother, of my friend. I ask that the conditions of this so called freedom be altered only slightly. I asked to be allowed in Largay but one day a year. From the moment the sun rises to its last rays on the anniversary of my mother's death, I ask to be allowed to return to honor my mother, for the gift of life she gave to me. To place flowers upon her grave and to be gone before night has fallen, I will not enter this Hall unless asked to by the King and I shall do all I can to remain far from your... mother. Will you allow me this boon?" Aoife asked of him, though one could feel she had wanted to use a different word than mother however restrained herself.
"The request is fair, and any who would deny would be heartless and cruel," Fintan answers, leaving his mother no choice but to submit to his decision for fear of being dubbed callous – or more callous than she is known to be.
"As for tonight, let us all set aside our pains and sorrows, and feast in honour of these proud and valiant warriors!"
The villagers cheer. That night, nothing suggests that the McGoverns of Largay are impoverished. The ale and wine flows freely for all, and many muttons are set on the fire to feed these hungry souls. The people of Largay rejoice, dancing, singing, and telling stories of past glories – of battles, of Fintan's father, of the many loyal clansmen who sacrificed themselves for the good of the kingdom.
Sister Cobhlaith and Brother O'Maille talk for hours, no doubt about their adventures in the Otherworld.
Blind Padraic sits in the darkness, quietly listening to the music, while his wife stands apart from him, mingling with nobles.
Fintan sits on his throne. He laughs and applauds the bards, but drinks little and behaves in all ways appropriately. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.
Daire ponders his drink, then slugs it back.
This drink follows in the path of several others before it.
"Aire Désa", he says, as if trying the title on for size, and to no one in particular.
"Quite the welcome!"
The festivities continue long and late into the night – a much needed and deserved respite from the horrors of the past for the heroes and for the people of Largay.
"I thought that you were dead," he confesses. His tones hints at great heartbreak. "I wish... I wish things were different. But you're alive, and that's what matters most. Your father would be happy that you're free. And proud of the great warrior that you've become."
He sighs. He is not the simple young man he was, and the crown weighs heavily on his head.
"When King McGovern passed, I was named king in his stead, but my mother inherited his household. I asked her to free you, and she gave one condition: that you should never again set foot in Largay. I agreed."
He finally looks a her with a mix of hope and sorrow, "What will you do now?"
"You have all been elusive in your telling of the stories of your travels. I assume with good reason and I will hear the tale if and when you are ready," the priest offers with sincerity and a hint of curiosity. "But what matters most is that the very existence of the Treasures of the Tuatha de Danann is a threat to our way of life and to the Church of Ireland. Fintan has agreed that, while it will serve to destroy the evil spirit Ailbe, the Spear of Lugh will remain in the care of the faith..."
He hesitates, then continues, "I know that you're plan was never to travel as you have. And I can plainly see that you have been sorely tested. But I must ask you to see this to the end, as I cannot do it myself. You must go South and make sure that the existence of the spear remain a secret, and that it not fall in the wrong hands."
Daire wonders at Dubhdara's motives at asking for escort.
It has been some time.
She explains, he listens.
He looks her in the eye and says:
"After what I have already done for him, you would ask that? Aye, I will back him. Do you know whom are the ringleaders and followers of this plot?"
You had to make a choice Fintan, and they're never easy. Especially with that creature you call mother. Though I would like to know how she was able to inherit his household. That isn't the way the law works. My guess would be he exchanged it long ago for my and my mother's safety. After all he would have freed us himself is he could have... He said it wasn't that simple to me once.... She loved him, and he loved her. But he never loved your mother."[b] Aoife said as she leaned against the wall, looking at her right hand which now had the ring which was once her mother's upon it. [b]"and she couldn't handle that. I can't say I don't understand where she is coming from. This world is unkind to all yet most unkind to us women. I was greatly lucky. Even though I was a slave I was never harmed, never touched, yet your mother had to live with a man she didn't love and who didn't love her. Watching him be happy with someone while she never could be." It seemed that Aoife had been thinking on this fact the whole time through the party. "I understand why she is this way, but I don't believe it excuses her behavior. Even more so when it has been such a hindrance on us. But it is over now. I will never have to deal with her again and she no longer has power over me." Letting out a long sigh she looked back to the fire.
"First I'm going to Boho, to rest and recover. That world... It took a great deal out of me Fintan... I'm not the woman I was when we last spoke a year ago." Aoife admitted. "I am proud of you though, you'll be a good King." She looked back at him and offered a small smile, a hint of the Aoife she was when they were younger and training and chores were all they worried about. "Dad wouldn't say it, he was a stubborn old fool, but he'd be proud of you. I'm proud of you too Fintan, I'd of liked to stand by your side through all the years, but it seems that won't be able to happen... But know that I love you brother, and I'll always be at your call. So never hesitate to call me home. When you feel the walls are closing in, and you're backed as far as you can be, when you fear your strength will fail, your spirit will waver, and all around you is enemies, call me home. Deal or no, I will always return to you Fintan, and if she b@~!@es I'll put a blade through her too. You, are all that matters to me. No matter where I go, or where I end up, this I promise you." Aoife then moved and hugged her brother. "I love you, and I know you'll do great things, but do something for me too? Be happy. Find someone to love, have children, and be happy"
He notices Aoife with her hand once more on the pummel of her sword – drawn to the sword, one might think – and wonders, perplexed, ”A mind of its own, you say?”
”Thorun?” Aoife calls to him. His mind is playing tricks on him, surely. And yet, the vision seems real. Her hand on his cheek and her lips on his when she kisses him are more than he can endure. His head spins and darkness falls.
”I cannot name the conspirators,” she continues, ”as I have heard only rumours. I simply urge you to be careful as, among my son’s allies, only you seem to know the hearts of men.”
”And women,” she finishes with a seductive smile.
Daire smiles.
After all this time!, he cannot help but think but tries to focus on the matter at hand, surprised at his own rising feelings.
"The price was paid. It is purest foolishness to pay more of our own blood with no gain. Not to mention the price of treachery. I will keep eyes out for ill-intent towards Fintan and I expect my companions are too steeped in protecting him to shift now."
His smile remains.
I can not ignore this chance, God help me.
"Are you expected back soon, my lady?", he asks, a glint in his eyes.
A chance, undoubtedly. But why? And why now, after so long?
"My lord," she exclaims with urgency, "Thorun is unwell. He's had too much ale and I fear that it has poisoned him!"
Aoife looked as Fintan as she moved to the door, assuming the servant did as she was told. "Shall we go see how bad this is? Along they way you can say what was on your mind before she burst in."
I could think myself into a cold bed or walk to a warm bed. I know what I'll do.
Daire quietly follows, seeking said warm bed - and its occupant.