“What the devil was that?” Donal asked.

“That,” Niall said, opening the linen to display the stone for effect, “is the Lía Fáil.”

Donal looked at Finn.

“The Stone of Destiny,” said Finn. “It’s supposed to ‘cry out’ when it senses a king.”

He looked at Niall asked.

“It’s also supposed to be in Tara.”

“Most of it is,” Niall said. “I’m sure they told you that when the Tuatha Dé came to our world through that portal up in Iceland, it was here in the northwest of Ireland where they landed. Not even the Tuatha Dé are immune to accidents, and when they brought it on land this piece broke off. One of my ancestors was entrusted with this, and it’s been handed down within the MacRannell family over countless generations.”

“So if I heard you proper,” Donal asked. “Finn’s going to be king? Just like that?”

“Not quite,” Niall said. “These days, it’s as much a test of your ancestry as anything. Lugh became king after defeating the Fomori leader Balor. You two are his descendants. The Lía Fáil reacted to that.”

The gears in Donal’s mind meshed. He looked down at his hands and looked at Niall with his eyes widened. Niall, needing no scholar to read the boy’s face, threw the stone to Donal.

The room shook once more. Donal’s mouth dropped open, pinned up at the corners with only a smile. A surge of warmth flowed from his hands to his chest and then spread throughout his body. Confidence flooded his brain, washing away any fear or anxiety. The Shadow itself was nowhere to be found. He forgot how that felt: so much lighter, so much more at ease.

“Oi!”

His surroundings blurred. Sounds blended into a din. He tossed the stone between each hand and felt the sensation ebb and flow in the moments when the stone hung in the air.

“Donal!” Niall yelled. “That’s enough, boyo.”

Donal cleared his head with a shake and tossed the stone back to his host. Niall caught it in the cloth once more and carried it toward the side room. Donal’s cheeks warmed as he remembered his audience. Each face told a different tale. Finn’s eyes were narrowed but a soft smile had spread. Siobhan leaned back in her chair, shaking her head with a begrudged grin. Maeve’s lip curled up toward a wrinkled nose. Though the expression didn’t change Donal felt it swung like a pendulum between annoyed and confused with each second that passed. A gleam reflected from Murrough’s squinting eyes above a broad smile that never parted his lips.

“Why were you so careful about using that cloth to hold the stone?” Donal asked as Niall emerged from the side room.

Niall cocked his head and furrowed his brow before looking over at Finn.

“Do you not remember?” said Finn. “Murrough said he’s descended from Nuada.”

“And that means?”

“Nuada was a king of the Tuatha Dé as well,” Finn said. “The myths say he was king of the Tuatha Dé when they landed on Ireland’s shores. It would shake the house if he touched it as well.”

Niall nodded.

“Indeed. And while I don’t have the cleanest house, I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to pick up my things from the floor.”

He stared at Donal until his target squirmed in acknowledgment.

“Sorry,” Donal said.

“All’s forgiven when you pick up your mess.”

Donal nodded and walked to the corner with the lyre and returned it to the stool tops. He followed the edges of the room, picking up each place that was cluttered. Murrough tapped Maeve and gestured for her to follow him outside.

“Help me settle the horses, would you?”

Maeve shrugged and pushed herself up. The pair disappeared into the front yard.

Finn rubbed the right side of his face and leaned towards the table. “There’s one question that you lot have yet to answer: Why now?”

“Which part?” Niall.

“All of it. I understand that losing Mam and Da would have thrown a wrench in these ‘plans’ of telling us. If all this is as you say, why didn’t you tell us earlier? Like, ‘Your great-great-great-great-grandad was a godly king,’ or, ‘Hey Finn, you may want to look out for headless fellas when going to the market.’”

“Jokes aside, they’re fair questions,” he said to Siobhan.

“Why did I get taken now?” Finn continued. “If the Fomori wanted to take us—for whatever reason—the easiest time to do so was immediately after we lost our parents. We were reeling.”

“What gives you reason to think that they didn’t try back then?” Niall asked.

“It was the hardest time of my life,” Finn said. “Still, I’d like to think I’d have noticed a thing like that following me around.”

“Well, I can’t speak to any dullahans, but people have been watching you these past few years,” Niall said. “Waiting for the chance.”

Donal dropped the spears he had gathered in his arms.

“We never saw anybody out of place,” Donal said. “Not around home. Not in any of the towns. What stopped them?”

“Us, for one,” Niall said. “The trips you took here with Murrough. The times he, or myself, visited you in between. Siobhan’s monthly visits. There were times when myself, Maeve, and some others were nearby, visible enough to let those looking for you know you weren’t alone.”

“But we were alone!” Donal said.

He pointed to Finn.

“Your visits were short, so it was just Finn and myself most of the time. If you were out there, you could have come up to the door and invited yourself in. We’d have been happy to have you, instead of being left alone with—”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Niall fell silent. Siobhan’s eyes dropped to the floor. Donal’s gut told him he went too far but a nod from Finn, his eyes glassy, buttressed his resolve. He calmed his tone.

“What was the benefit of keeping us at arm’s length?” he asked.

“Good question,” Maeve said.

She stepped aside, allowing Murrough to enter behind her. She locked eyes with Niall, seemingly unfazed by the glare he directed at her.

Donal’s cheeks warmed. He took a mindless step backward and knocked the re-stacked weapons to the floor once more. His cheeks now cooked and beads of sweat formed at the top of his forehead.

“None, as it turns out,” said Niall.

“What?” Donal asked. “You’re codding me.”

“You’ll learn as you grow that good intentions don’t always make for good decisions. We knew that the Sílrad Díberg—again, Fomori—were monitoring us more than they ever had over the past several years. We thought the more attention we gave you, the more of their attention we’d bring on you. Truth be told, we didn’t know their full plan nor how far along they were.”

Niall dropped his head. He filled his lungs through his nose and blew out his breath as he looked at the brothers without raising his head.

“If we had, we would have handled things differently.”

Donal turned to his uncle.

“You went along with this?”

“Niall and I thought it the safest course. It was difficult, though.”

Donal curled the corner of his lip in a sneer.

“Was it, now?”

Finn looked at Donal’s face and shot up.

“You said that you didn’t know their plan,” Finn said. “Does that mean you know it now?”

Niall raised his head toward Finn.

“Bits,” he said. “While traveling here, I trust you noticed most people are struggling to get food to grow. That’s no accident or bad luck with the rain. Only a few in this whole province are getting anything meaningful out of the ground, and even that we suspect is intentional.”

“Is someone in charge, or is a bunch of ‘em doing it in bits?” Finn asked.

“They follow a man by the name of Éamon Breaslin. His clan used to own land east of here in Fánaid before they were forced out and fled to Maguire lands to the south. It was before his time, but it never sat right with him, apparently.”

“But he’s Fomori, right?”

“He’s actually Sílrad Cummasc,” Niall said. “There were those who had parents in both the Tuatha Dé and the Fomori. He’s descended from Bres, perhaps the Tuatha Dé’s most infamous king. He had a parent from both sides.”

“I don’t understand,” Finn said. “Fomori fought everybody, especially the Tuatha Dé. Why would they start families together?”

“Life is never that simple,” Niall said. “Sometimes it happened in unfortunate ways, but sometimes other families grew in unexpected ways. After all, Lugh’s mother herself was a Fomori.”

“So are Donal and myself Sílrad Déithe, or Sílrad Cummasc?” Finn asked. “And why are we messing around with the old tongue, anyway?”

“Cummasc. But those are formal definitions,” Niall said. “When it comes down to it, all sílrad ultimately choose a side, if it hasn’t chosen them first. Few waver between the ‘Fomori’ and the ‘Tuatha Dé.’”

Finn nodded. Behind his eyes sat a mind spinning with questions but he remained silent. Siobhan and Murrough studied his face, likely waiting for the next barrage of questions. Maeve twirled her bow around the point that rested on the floor.

“Answer me this,” Donal said. “What does this Breaslin stand to gain from everybody going hungry?”

“A few things,” Niall said. “If his sympathizers are the only people growing food, they can charge more. Also, whenever resources like food are scarce, people panic. The clans get restless. It’s easier to agitate them into fighting each other.”

“Remember we’re still a very superstitious lot,” he said. “If his people are the ones prospering, it draws more people to his cause. Balor is considered by most Irish the ultimate villain in our old tales of the Tuatha Dé. Here in Tyrconnell, though, he’s not always seen that way. If you take all these individual things and combine them, you get Breaslin, aspiring hero of the people.”

“Even though some random people’s lives are left in rag order for it,” Donal said.

“Low rungs on a ladder,” Maeve said. “Forgotten by the time he reaches the top.”

“How do we stop him?” Donal asked.

Finn’s head turned in his direction, but Donal kept his brother’s reaction in the periphery without acknowledgment.

“We have to find out how he caused the blight, and what he’s doing to perpetuate it,” Niall said. “The easiest way to affect so many in less than a year would be the use of an item with top-tier magic.”

He waved his hand in a flourish.

“Something on the level of the four items of the Tuatha Dé, you see.”

Donal had heard Murrough and Finn talk about these items several times before but never listened. He put on a knowing face and tried to nod in the same manner that Finn and Murrough used to do. In the blurry corner of Donal’s line of sight Finn’s head dropped. In front of him, Niall closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Is there anything you did teach this boy, McMennamin?” Niall asked.

Murrough pointed an upward palm toward Finn.

“It wasn’t for our lack of trying, I can tell you that.”

“Give us another try, then,” Niall said.

Murrough cleared his throat.

“The Tuatha Dé didn’t just come from a single city. They came from four different cities in their land before crossing over. From each city they brought a magical item to help them in this new land.”

“You’ve already held one of them—or part of one,” he said. The Lía Fáil came from the town of Falias. From Urias came the Sword of Light. From Finias the Spear of Assal. And from Murias they brought the Dagda’s Cauldron.”

“Two weapons, a stone, and a cauldron,” Donal said. “The weapons are obvious, even the stone I get. But a cauldron? Is it to brew potions and the like?”

“Most call The Dagda ‘the good god,’ Murrough said. “By several measurements he was the father of the Tuatha Dé. He possessed several magical items, but none greater than his cauldron. Its supply of food could never be exhausted. Anyone who wanted for food never walked away from it hungry.”

Still in Donal’s periphery, Finn raised his head and leaned in his stool toward the table. Donal reluctantly locked eyes with his brother. Finn looked at him from under his eyebrows with a reserved smile on his face. A quick succession of memories flashed across Donal’s mind, all of them moments in which Finn tried to teach him one thing or the other. Finn would talk Donal through whatever thing he was learning, stop before he spoke the answer and look at Donal exactly the way he did at that moment.

Donal snapped his fingers.

“They took the cauldron and gave it a bad dose of something!”

Siobhan and Murrough beamed back at him. Maeve shrugged her head to one side, glanced at Niall, and resumed spinning her bow on one tip.

“That’s a fine thought,” Niall said. “One we had as well. Unlike two of the other three items, however, we do know where the cauldron is. As of last week, it remains undisturbed.”

Finn shook his head. He turned his head from the table with a slight roll and pointed his face toward a window.

“Then it must be one of the other three you mentioned,” Donal said.

“Possible,” said Niall. “But those three don’t lend themselves to either starting or stopping a blight.”

“So now what do we do?” Donal asked.

Niall chuckled.

“‘We,’ he says.”

Donal threw a thumb in his brother’s direction.

“And what does that mean?” he asked. “You wouldn’t drag us from Ballyness all the way to Dunfanaghy for our company.”

Siobhan’s laugh shook Finn from whatever held his gaze outside. He scowled at Donal.

“We brought you here to keep you close, away from harm,” Niall said. “You’re likely to come with us when we leave here the day after next. But that, too, is to keep you safe and where we can see you.”

Donal leaned back to assess the blow to his pride. Finn looked at Niall with an expression similar to his, though Donal suspected it was for a very different reason. Siobhan looked at Niall. A bump sounded from below the table, causing the host to wince.

“Though we appreciate your eagerness,” Niall said.

“Where are we—sorry, you—going?”

“We’re going to head to a few spots to suss things out,” Niall said. “We won’t solve anything sitting around here gabbing.”

Niall patted the table and stood up.

“But not tonight. You lads are going to spend the night at Murrough’s.”

He drew a circle in the air around the younger members of the group.

“Tomorrow the four of you will head into town early to gather some things, while himself and I catch up and plan the trip.”

A fleeting image of the current state of Murrough’s house popped into Donal’s mind. He raised his arms in an exaggerated stretch and blended a fake yawn into the beginning of his next sentence.

“We’re not going over to trim your yard, are we, uncle?” Donal asked. “I didn’t get my usual traveling nap.”

Murrough smiled. “That depends on what you say about my cooking.”