“Tuatha is defeated again,” a familiar voice narrated, just before he was knocked to the ground, a heavy body holding him down. Tuatha laughed as he skilfully wrestled his friend. “Tethra! I thought you were gone to Port Findabair?”

“I was, you big ugly Auroch, that was three weeks ago. Has your training been so rigorous that it causes you to forget your best friend?”

“It seems so. How could I forget such a bad wrestler like you?”

“Bad, hey? Try this.” Unaware that Tethra’s sudden move was not to be trusted, Tuatha ended up in a traditional head lock.

Tuatha grunted as he tried to fight his way out of the painful neck brace.

“You win, you win,” they fell over together in a heap, helpless with laughter.

Now he knew how much he had missed his friend. The laughter felt foreign to him, but good and refreshing.

They fell apart and collapsed against the wall of the hallway.

“What is the latest news?” asked Tethra, ‘the halls are so silent, and everyone is morose.”

“I think it’s a general feeling of doom. Cathabad has been training me long and hard, for I don’t know what. Ruad hates me even more and tries to kill me in our bouts. Now no one knows where he is. And I think Cathabad knows something, I think I know what it is.”

Suddenly Tuatha felt compelled to speak his mind to his friend. He trusted him and knew Tethra would be linked somehow to his destiny. Cathabad had shared all he knew with Tuatha, it was time to place his pieces on the board that were to change history.

His voice fell to a quiet whisper, “Tethra you need to leave. Now. Go to Muirthemne and stay there. Just trust me; I feel they will need you there when the time comes for….” He paused, unsure what to share with his friend.

Tethra leaned in waiting for his next words.

“For what Tuatha, what is it? You have never acted like this before?”

Tuatha could not find the words. He was not allowed to ask for help. “Please Tethra, just trust me. I must go. Cathabad wants me to see him right now.”

Tethra nodded, “I will do as you ask, my friend. It’s been a while since I have been to Enna Aignech.” They embraced and Tethra went off to prepare for his journey to Muirthemne. Wondering what was happening that made Tuatha so upset.

After Tuatha had farewelled his friend, he prepared his pack for the journey ahead. He would only be carrying his bed and wearing his light leather and Scatach armour. Then he went looking for Cathabad, as he had more questions.

Cathabad embraced Tuatha and spoke urgently, “Tuatha, you must leave, the time has come for you to find your destiny. The journey will take you to places where you will be prepared. The time will come soon, when Riangbra tells you where you must go, what path to take. It is as I feared, Mac-Roth is moving. Before you go, there is something you must have.”

From a long box, ingrained with jewels, Cathabad drew a sword with an ornate handle. “Why, this handle was mounted on top of my father’s throne,” noted Tuatha.

“That is correct,” said Cathabad. “In a time of peace, it was placed there by Emain the third. I have removed it so it can be yours, it was your father’s when he left, as you are leaving now.”

The sword was of the finest quality Scatach steel, jewels incrusted its handle. Its steel glowed and caught the all the light in the room, making Tuatha squint. As he took it ceremoniously from the hands of Cathabad, it seemed to mould itself into his grip. It felt as if he was holding air. The weight was so perfectly distributed it seemed to move through the air with grace. He held it out horizontally in the sunshine and the jewels glinted ferociously. In the base of the blade were some graven words unknown to Tuatha, but he recognised them as ancient Riangbra text.

“This is The First Scatach sword of King Ailell Findabair, son of Emain. Guard it well and it will keep you safe, as long as you use it according to the training I have placed you under.”

“Where is its scabbard?” asked Tuatha.

“The proper scabbard that was made for this sword was lost in the great battle of the Outer World,” Cathabad replied simply.

He pulled an old and cracked leather scabbard from a pile of other assorted weapons. “It is extremely sharp; it will fit in this scabbard for now.” He helped Tuatha wrap the belt around his waist.

“The text you see on the base of the blade is not to be read till the time is right. It is forbidden. If you do it may lead you on the wrong path if it is misunderstood. You will know when that time is if you are truly the one who is prophesied.

“Now listen closely Tuatha, this alone has the power to guide you. When all feels lost and you don’t know what to do or where to go, trust Riangbra, its power resides in this sword. Riangbra will guide you and set your fate. It will reveal itself to you.”

Tuatha shook his head, his brow furrowed. The overload of information was almost too much.

“I have questions,” said Tuatha.

Cathabad stood and looked at Tuatha. His hands in the traditional Riangbra pose.

“I have nothing of your purpose to add,” he said, “but trust Riangbra, trust your training. I have prepared you enough, go now to the place of arrival, where our ancestors first arrived. Ask Riangbra for guidance and it will reveal to you something that will put you on the correct path. Riangbra chooses your purpose. It remains a mystery to you now, but it will be revealed to you as you go. It is the destiny of your family, from Emain to you, to never trust your own feelings. It is not what you want, but only Riangbra’s will that matters to you now.”

Cathabad felt fear for Tuatha, but he knew from now on he must not interfere; he must not give him comfort or solace. Tuatha’s journey had begun, and the first stage of his learning was total neglect. Loneliness was to be his friend. Not loneliness from human contact, but loneliness from one who knows or understands his destiny. The easy way was to simply stay and become king once his father died, but this would not help him grow. Nor would it achieve Riangbra’s purpose. No one would be able to understand or help Tuatha in his search for himself and his purpose.

Tuatha rose, his face contorted with fear and concern. The questions which racked his mind were to be left unanswered, this he knew. The answers and purpose of his mission would come with experience.

He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, picked up the sword and bag, and without looking back walked out of the city toward Ruigate.

It was a quiet place, in a gully between two hills not far outside Athlethan. A Cairn was there and on it was a large circular carving, jagged and rough. Emain had described the gate between worlds as a fast-spinning light, with sparks that flew off in all directions. Through the circle he had seen faint outlines of trees and rocks. When Emain had stepped through, the light had faded away, and he could see that he had stepped out of a rock, marked by the rotating circle, still glowing hot. He called the place Ruigate, which means ‘new arrival.’

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Tuatha inspected the carvings around the circular impression. It depicted the Riangbra beings that had appeared to Emain here. Faceless human figures depicted as shining brightly by lines emanating outwards.

Then he sat down before it and meditated as he had been taught by Cathabad. The sun was setting, and the circle glowed red in the sunlight.

Images came into his head as they always did, images of things he did not recognise. He saw a queen, tall and regal. A skeleton in a coffin leapt toward him, mouth agape. A large black shape with wings and red eyes came toward him and opened its teeth filled maw. Fire came from the shape’s mouth and surrounded him. From the fire came darkness and pain. He saw a myriad of people’s faces contorted with panic. Behind them, two dark figures in hooded cloaks reached out and from their hands came lightning. Not white and flashing, but black with purple edges. Then behind them a star shone, gently removing the blackness, till it shone so bright the dark figures faded to nothing. Then a voice, low and gentle. “Do not fear what is to come Tuatha, Come and find me.” It was the face of a beautiful young woman that spoke and she seemed vaguely familiar to him. She smiled. Tuatha felt strong emotions rise within him. Her face grew larger and larger till he was inside her eye, and it went black. But he had noticed something. In her hair was a tiara, and it was in the style of Esclarmonde, as was her dress.

Tuatha awoke in the wet grass before the Cairn, not sure if he had been dreaming, or if it was a vision. He wondered if what he had seen was a vision of what lay ahead. He decided he would go north to Esclarmonde. It was what the woman had said.

He sat up and stood, making his way thoughtfully back to Athlethan, the picture of the woman in his mind, and her words ringing. “Come and find me.” It had awakened the adventurer in him and when he returned to Athlethan, Cathabad saw it too. There was a light in Tuatha’s eyes that had not been there before. Cathabad smiled. Riangbra had indeed visited Tuatha and revealed to him the first stage of his path.

While Tuatha was in Ruigate, the news had spread. Every inhabitant of the City of Athlethan had heard that the king’s son Tuatha was to follow in his ancestors’ steps and leave for his reckoning. If fate, decided by Riangbra, bought him back, he would return as king, just like all his ancestors had. As Tuatha left Athlethan, it seemed the whole city was in the street, watching him walk by. His footsteps echoed on the flagstones as if the streets were empty. As the people always did, the words were whispered, “Riangbra. Riangbra.”

As he walked the last few steps out of the city the hum of tens of thousands of voices could be heard repeating it over and over, louder and louder. Till it died out with distance and the sounds of dusk began to be heard, nocturnal animals croaking and growling. The second sun moved behind the red circumference of the land, and it grew darker and colder. Tuatha shivered and continued walking. The night was his friend, with only his thoughts and the swish of his feet on the path he had chosen. Towards Esclarmonde, city of destiny, and away from Athlethan, city of his birth.

***

Esclarmonde was a city of light and consistency, once ruled with power and justice. Kings desired its beauty and peace but would never achieve it. Ulna was ruler and one of the oldest men in the Deep Lands. He, along with others appointed to the Council, kept law and order.

It was to Esclarmonde that men went to receive enlightenment, to gain clarity of mind and thought. There had been no king for many cycles. The people followed the laws faithfully and there were wise and honest people who guided Esclarmonde toward its future. There was a family there who could claim the throne, but they had not attempted to, content with the system that was in place.

Tuatha walked all night and into the next day. Cathabad had taught him how to walk yet conserve energy. Sleep while walking yet remaining alert. As the sun rose, he saw that the country had changed, with fewer mountains and more trees. Some areas he passed were thick with trees and bushes. The sun rose to its zenith and Tuatha stopped to eat his wafer of Trias bread. A mix of herbs and food, with the flavours of a well-cooked Athlethan meal.

Further into the day and the sun was well and truly greeting the horizon. Tuatha could hear the sound of clashing steel. He ran to the top of the rise that he had been approaching. He crouched down and peered into the valley.

There were twenty men in full armour, dark in shade and unfamiliar to him. Tuatha did not recognise the emblem on their shields. They stood in circular formation around three men. Tuatha could see that the three men, also in full armour, had emblems of Esclarmonde on their shields, which they were using to good effect in their defence. The twenty men were hacking down on them mercilessly, trying to get through their barrier of shields.

Spread around were several dead soldiers bearing the same dark armour, strewn over a battlefield. These three men had fought an impossible battle and were almost defeated. Their enemy had suffered losses, and they were in a rage. Tuatha approached the situation, assessing as he went. None of them noticed Tuatha’s arrival. It was out of habit that he took the blindfold out of his belt strap, tying it in place around his head. He gripped his sword and descended toward the fighting men.

He could hear the grunts of effort from both parties. The tinny scraping of their armour as they moved their arms up and down with each swing of the sword.

In three trained moves and sword thrusts and swings, three enemies of the men of Esclarmonde lay dead upon the grass. He could hear the exclamation of anger as two of the enemy leapt upon him, swords whistling. Within seconds they too joined their fellows on the ground.

“Yield,” he commanded. “Yield to a Warrior of Athlethan and you will live.”

Ignoring his words the soldiers were swiftly attacking him. Swords whistled around him. A sword shattered against Tuatha’s defensive block with the Scatach blade. Three men retreated, walking backwards, unprepared to face him, assessing his technique. It left twelve men against now four unspoken allies. Tuatha was walking forwards with each swing. Three more attacks from Tuatha and three more swords broke into shards of steel. Nine of the enemy were left.

Then they were beside him, three emblems of Esclarmonde. He could hear their leather vests creaking and the rattle of their chain mail leggings, the grunts and heavy breathing. He memorised their breaths and once more he could create a clear picture in his mind of who was friend and who was foe. The last six fell fast, leaving three, who threw down their swords in submission along with the six men whose swords had broken.

“Who are these men?” asked Tuatha.

The tallest of the three allies spoke first.

“They are from the west. We think they are a raiding party, but are also here to scout this country, to determine our strength,” he said, cleaning his sword as he spoke.

The subdued men slowly rose to their feet, looking fearful, their eyes still betraying some hate. Their features were darker than the people of the south. They had dark, almost black leather, covered with black steel armour. Even their sword blades were a dark composition of metal and leather.

“Go back to where you came from,” Tuatha said, “Tell your leader that this country is dangerous, where four men can defeat a platoon.”

The men scowled and hurriedly left, walking toward the west, into the now setting sun.

“A swordsman like I have never seen,” said one of the knights. “Truly this is a Warrior of Athlethan.”

On his knees, Tuatha thanked Riangbra, untied the blindfold and wrapped it once more into his belt strap.

The speaker lifted his leather helmet and revealed a head of hair as black as the darkest night.

His face looked upon Tuatha with some wonder and admiration.

“You have before you Naoise, Ainnle and Ardan, of Esclarmonde. I am Naoise. We owe you our lives.” He clenched his fist and placed it on Tuatha’s shoulder.

The brothers did likewise. They were alike in stature and face.

“Who is it that we owe our lives to, warrior of Athlethan?”

“I am Findabair of Athlethan,” Tuatha said, not using his first name as they would know who he was. He gambled on the fact they would not have heard his middle names.

They looked at each other and back at Tuatha.

“It is to your king we were coming to pledge allegiance,” said Ainnle. “We did not expect to meet someone from there so soon. You have saved our lives and so we wish to stay with you till you return to Athlethan.”

“I think you were quite capable of saving yourselves,” replied Tuatha. “But I accept your fealty to me,” he said gratefully.

He continued, “I would like to know what is happening in Esclarmonde. Why were these men here?”

Ardan was the first to speak.

“We believe they were coming to help some outsiders seize control of our city. Two men who arrived and have managed to get seats on the council of rulers. I hope we have stopped this from happening. We know that evil is rising, as it did in the distant past. This is why we were going to Athlethan; we were sent to get help.”

Tuatha nodded. “You are correct to say this, it is good that we have met. We should go to your city and see what we can do. Riangbra will guide us.” Tuatha looked around, noticing a coolness in the air and a change in the light. “The night is upon us, he continued. “Let us find suitable resting place and build a fire. I cannot yet tell you why I am here, we will leave it for another time.”

The three brothers agreed, and after Tuatha treated their wounds, they ate.

They talked long into the night, till the great northern star bought a glow to the sky like the tinges of dawn.

Tuatha did not yet fully trust these men and so he stayed anonymous as to his birthright. He would tell them once he knew more about them and that they could be trusted.

And so began the wanderings of Tuatha Findabair with Naoise, Ainnle, and Ardan of Esclarmonde.