It came from deep under Sennol Uathach. Murky clouds of poisonous gas, enough to make one sick. Not enough to kill. Clouding the mind, making one open to suggestion. A ready mind to give a false sense of power and strength. Amerghin, Sub Lord of Sennol Uathach smiled. The time was here. The Deep Lands would all become Sennol Uathach. Mac Roth would be pleased. Amerghin would be well rewarded with freedom to torture and inflict pain, his favourite pastime.

The coming of the Triune gas was the final prophecy of Mac Roth, the way he would twist the minds of people to his bidding. Woven with dark power over the mind, it made it possible to fight and win over the weak and meagre armies of the countries of the Deep Lands.

Their only barrier was the Riangbra warriors of Athlethan.

Lord Sennol the first lord of the dark power had prophesied eternal power. Once achieved, never lost, had been his prophecy. He knew of Riangbra, but convinced himself he was superior in knowledge and more powerful.

Amerghin walked hastily up the long stair. He had been summonsed, a rare event, probably his only chance to see the Great Lord Sennol. The stair ended in a blank wall, hard and shiny. He stood and waited, licking his lips in anticipation. He waited a long time. So long in fact, he began to glance around looking for an opening, some sort of indication that the Great Lord knew he existed. He reached out and touched the wall. It felt cold. The cold spread into his hand. He tried to pull away. It stuck fast. Panicking, he put his other hand on the wall and pushed. But the cold became pain, and it was pulling him against the wall. Sucking him to it like quicksand. The pain grew, from the sort of pain that makes you groan and sweat, to pain intense and harsh. Amerghin began to scream. He saw things through the darkness of his pain. The wall was him, he was in the wall, every nerve screamed as objects flashed past. He was travelling seemingly at speed, screaming with pain. He was entering the mind and power of Sennol Uathach, unforeseen by any mortal until now. Pain that would soon sweep through the Deep Lands. A mind that all men would experience. The objects slowed and through the blindness from tears of pain he saw a patch of darkness, darker than the rest, come towards his racked body. In the darkness was a throne. On it was one like death, wearing a hood which covered his face.

“Amerghin, Amerghin, Amerghin,” said a voice. Deep and filling his head with a new type of pain.

“Why have you not yet learned the way of pain? Why must I still teach you?”

The darkness took on new form. Amerghin began to see a room. A normal looking room with no windows, a small candle in the centre of a table. It gave out seemingly impossible light that made the darkness seem darker. The pain was receding, beside him stood a dark figure.

“Amerghin, my master no longer, you taught me well.”

“Ruad!” exclaimed Amerghin, “how…”

“Silence Amerghin. All you need to know is that Ruad learned quickly, and pain has become his.

“Ruad will be your master. You will both lead our armies to victory.”

“N...N... No!” His pride rose upon his breast, jealousy tore at his pain racked body.

Another figure in a dark robe entered the room. In his hand was a sword. Mac Roth lifted it and pushed the sword into Amerghin’s shoulder, the point piercing deep. Amerghin screamed afresh.

Cruel was the torture of those of Sennol Uathach.

Ruad smiled in satisfaction at the humiliation of the man who had been his master.

Mac Roth turned the sword in his hand and passed the gilded handle to Ruad.

“This sword is the great sword Mac Roth, my namesake, forged in the darkness of Sennol from the shards of the twelve. It revealed itself to Lord Sennol in the magma pit. It has lain there for many cycles, awaiting it’s time to be used once more. This sword is the one that will lead us into victory and supreme power. You are the chosen. Come, let us gather our forces.”

***

The next day, Tuatha, Naoise, Ainnle and Ardan travelled to the edge of the city of Esclarmonde, where the Rochad river ran off into the distance towards the great Athlethan Delta. Straight ahead lay the Dagemar ranges. The road they were to travel disappeared into the misty distance, over the Mugrol swamp, toward the city of Esclarmonde.

“We did not travel this way,” said Ardan. “This way is treacherous, said to be haunted by Tulpha gangs of the worst sort.”

“My sword longs for their punishment,” said Tuatha. They laughed as they took the last few steps to the edge of the river. “We’re in for a swim, men,” said Tuatha.

Once they had swum the river and enjoyed the cold, cleansed feeling, they started a jogging run to dry off their clothes.

“Where did you get your sword?” Ainnle asked. “It is quite obviously made of Scatach steel. Did you steal it?”

Tuatha cringed inside, he knew it was rare and a sword made for kings.

“It was given to me by my master. All I can say is that they said I could use it, due to the importance of my mission.”

He felt relief when they seemed to accept his explanation.

As the afternoon turned into night, the setting sun reflected off the Mugrol swamp. “We will need to stop for the night before we attempt the swamp,” said Tuatha. “It could be dangerous.” They set a fire and rested over a portion of rations. As it grew darker the air was filled with an increasing amount of blood sucking insects. “These insects are a curse,” muttered Ainnle, “what good are they?” The insects seemed to like their body heat and formed clouds around each of their heads.

“Throw more leaves onto the fire; maybe the smoke will drive them off,” suggested Tuatha. It worked briefly then they seemed to multiply. “This is terrible. How can we sleep while they suck our life from our veins?” moaned Naoise.

“We must try and sleep” said Ardan, “we need all day to negotiate the swamp, to make sure we are through it by tomorrow evening.”

They settled down, covering themselves with their cloaks and some leaves that Tuatha had found that seemed to repel the insects.

Was it a dream? Tuatha felt as though he was asleep, yet awake. He tried to sit up. His head felt light, it hummed irritatingly. He slowly stood and collapsed. As he did so he saw a shadow, looming out of the mist. A man who muttered to himself something about “those damned insects.” The man lifted Tuatha’s head and poured a liquid down his throat. He drifted into unconsciousness.

Tuatha awoke slowly; he had to force his eyes to open. The first thing he saw was a thatched roof; he could smell a roast meat cooking and smoke. His limbs felt tied down, his head felt light. His hand still grasped the hilt of the Scatach sword.

The man he had seen in the dream suddenly loomed over him. He was grey and bearded, elderly, yet with a young look to his eyes.

“Greetings young Tuatha,” he said., I will explain why you are here in the humble abode of Geirgind.”

“Yes,” Geirgind replied, smiling, “I know of Cathabad, he has much potential. You and your friends fell asleep last night, and you lost much blood to the Swamp mugrols. They suck the blood of any living creature till it is gone. Fortunately, I found you before they had cleaned you out. Your friends are still asleep. You are well on the way to recovery. I see you still have that sword; I couldn’t pull it out of your hands last night.”

Tuatha looked down at the sword, still by his side. His hand was still on the handle.

Geirgind continued, “I saw you coming, in a vision. I saw you and the future. You will go to Mt. Dagemar. It lays one hundred and fifty leagues from here, northeast. There you will have a vision from the seat of Hammul. It involves the Scatach sword you hold. Divert not from that path young one, the destiny of the Deep Lands lies in your hand.”

“I know the sword holds my destiny!” said Tuatha.

“That is for you to find out, Tuatha. Now rest and regain your strength. You will need to leave in the morning.”

“Why? You speak with a tone of urgency.” Tuatha asked. “What have you seen?”

The aged man’s face glowed in the dim room where Tuatha was lying.

“Because, my boy, the morning after tomorrow is the end of season. The stars must be visible at night for a vision to come from the seat of Hammul,” he said cryptically,” Now sleep.”

During the night, dreams and nightmares came through Tuatha’s head. Suddenly a vision, clear as if the light of day was shining on the clearing of the forest in which he was standing.

The wind in the tops of the tall trees breathed, a strange bird sounded, harsh and rasping. A distant howl caused him to turn his head and he saw through the trees the tops of high mountains resplendent and white in snow. The brightness made him squint, and it seemed to grow brighter. His eyes filled with pain and the roar of an avalanche filled the clearing and all the air was trembling with the power of the falling snow. He closed his eyes, but the brightness still came on.

“Open your eyes, Tuatha,” said a voice “Do not fear.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The moment his eyes were open it was as if the day had become night. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the woman spoke again.

“I am the queen of Mt. Dagemar. I sensed your presence here; it is vital that you leave the road to Esclarmonde and come stay with me. There is much urgency in what I must tell thee. Come to the foot of Dagemar.”

Before he could see what she looked like, the woman turned and receded back into the brightness of the mountain. \

The morning found them much revived. Over a steaming hot and nourishing broth supplied by Geirgind, hey recounted how they had got there and decided to be more wary. They must plan better if they were not to be overtaken by small dilemmas such as the one Geirgind had saved them from. Preparations were made to leave and Geirgind appeared holding four folded robes.

“These are for warmth and repelling the mugrols,” he said. “But their biggest value is that they blend in with the bushes around you. Cover yourselves with them and you will also be warm and safe.”

“Thankyou Geirgind, my friend,” said Tuatha taking the robes and passing them to his friends. “Before we go, I have a question. Who is the queen of Mt. Dagemar”?

“She is a legend of this country. She is said to have come from Sennol Uathach to escape the evil there. She is regarded as the only good thing to come from that accursed place. Some say she was the wife of Amerghin the Black Prince. She is said to live in a cave somewhere on Mt. Dagemar. I have seen her, and she travels at night and speaks to men in their dreams. She told me you were coming, you know! That’s why I was prepared for you.”

“How can you know all this?” searched Tuatha, his curiosity peaking. “Who are you really?”

Geirgind smiled and leaned in whispering to Tuatha. “I can tell you only this, which you must not share with your friends. The Chronicles speak of Emain and the beings of light. I am a caretaker who watches this land. My purpose will soon come to completion when events here will match massive events on a distant world. This is your destiny, Tuatha, to bring these things about. Now go and be the warrior you were made to be. Fare thee well.”

Tuatha’s head was energetic with thoughts about what Geirgind had said. After they made the traditional farewells and set off, they soon arrived at the edge of the swamp. It stretched off hazily into the distance. A faint dark line indicated an overgrown and seldom used path between the piles of peat and heather.

The swamp proved to be easier to cross than they first thought and the path Geirgind had shown them made the swamp recede into the distance behind them by mid-afternoon. The road became tree lined once more, tall pines which swished as the wind blew in the tops of their branches. As they came over a rise, Ainnle was the first to spot the snow-capped top of Mt. Dagemar.

“That is where we are headed,” said Tuatha, “We must leave the road now.”

The forest grew dark around them as the afternoon sun made the shadows grow long. What shadows were left were thick and dark.

Something was different. Tuatha stopped; as the darkness grew, a pale form floated through the trees toward them, like a cloud but transparent.

They all drew their swords.

“This place is dangerous” said Naoise nervously. “This spirit bodes no good.”

“No, it has stopped. I think it is a guide from the queen. It in fact bodes much good, we have help.”

As Tuatha spoke, it turned and seemed to beckon them to follow.

“See, it is asking us to follow.”

“I still don’t like it, but since it has not done any grave hurt to us, I will follow also,” said Ardan.

The terrain was rocky and dangerous in the darkness, but they pursued the guide all night till Mt. Dagemar loomed in the lightening sky of the early morning. They hastily set up camp despite feeling insecure. One by one they fell asleep.

From then on, none of the party remembered anything more till they woke, each alone in their own room, on soft beds and pillows.

Tuatha woke and as he did so, the curtains over huge windows opened and the sun streamed in. It was afternoon sun of the warmest and brightest kind, found on warm summer days, not atop a high mountain in the snow. A door opened and a vision occupied his whole being. A dark-haired girl approached, her head bowed and carrying a tray. She wore a simple long white dress, the hemline and edges light blue, with a white jewel on her forehead hanging from a silver Tiara. She placed the tray on the table and turned to leave.

“Wait,” said Tuatha, his heart thumping. “Who are you?”

The girl turned, her eyes averted from his position in the bed. “My name is Laegaire, daughter of the queen of Mt. Dagemar.”

Tuatha stared at her for a few moments as she stood expectantly.

His stomach in his throat, his words stuck, and she looked shyly down at the ground.

Realising the awkwardness of his unusual malaise at the sight of this dazzling girl, he suddenly blurted out, “Why have you bought me breakfast? You are a princess are you not?” He reddened at the rudeness of his awestruck mind.

“I am,” the girl said, “but none is greater than Tuatha the great warrior prince.”

Then she turned and skipped toward the door, trying to hide her own red cheeks.

Tuatha’s heart skipped a beat. This girl made his heartbeat faster. He recovered his demeanour and managed to call out. “Don’t go! Please…”

Laegaire stopped and turned. She had quickly recovered and managed to revert her face back to a questioning one.

“Certainly, my lord?” she said.

“Oh, please my lady, I’m not that stiff. You can treat me as an equal if you like,” said Tuatha. “I am not a lord.”

Her eyes lifted and brightened slightly, “And I am not a lady. My mother told me not to speak to you.”

“Why ever not?” replied Tuatha.

“She said that I was tainted with my evil grandfather’s name, Amerghin, and that I would only be a distraction to you.”

“That’s not a good excuse. I judge people on their nature, not their parents’ past actions.” Tuatha didn’t say, but she was indeed a distraction.

She smiled, “Mother told me you are to come to her as soon as you have eaten and refreshed yourself, and to tell you your friends are well cared for.”

“I will and thank you,” replied Tuatha. His heart raced as he watched her leave the room. No girl had ever had this effect on him before and there were plenty of girls at home who had tried to get his attention. But this one had struck a nerve that hadn’t been touched yet. A good nerve.

After breakfast Laegaire came again and they spoke some more, exploring their newfound feelings for each other, until it was time for Tuatha to meet Queen Dagemar.

Tuatha followed Laegaire through the cavernous castle built into the mountain. He passed the three brothers who were enjoying the sunshine and looking quite relaxed. He greeted them and they grinned and raised their eyebrows at him when they saw who he was following.

Every wall was luxuriously covered in tapestry and hangings made from braided gold materials and rich royal colours. The floors were covered with sheep skins fitted together and covering the whole floor. It gave the huge rooms, which were at least fifty feet high, a sense of closeness and warmth. It was warm too. Surprisingly warm, like a warm summer’s day. The giant hallways were so long they curved into the distance. One could have gotten lost there were so many halls travelling off in different directions. Occasionally Tuatha caught a glimpse out through the windows; he could see they were high up on the side of the mountain. Snow sat on the edges of the window. They passed up several long flights of stairs and each level looked the same, only the tapestries and marbles were different colours.

Finally, they turned into the mountain down another giant hallway and at the end were two doors. When they were close the doors swung wide, and a huge room was opened to view. At the end of the room on a balcony open to the air was a throne. On it sat a woman, all in white, the Queen of Mount Dagemar.

Laegaire stood respectfully to the side, smiling at Tuatha encouragingly. Tuatha was awed at the presence of the queen. Yet he could not help but notice that spaced evenly around the room were men in black armour, their swords facing upwards in front of their face, which was covered by a full battle helmet. They were perfectly still as though statues. The patterns were those of the armies of Sennol Uathach and Tuatha held a tinge of doubt in his mind and fear rose like bile in the back of his throat.

Tuatha started back, his hand lifting the sword slightly, when he recognised that which he was taught to fear since he was a child.

“Fear not, they will not harm you. They are indeed statues, Tuatha. They will remain like that till I am threatened, and they are the only gift from my husband Amerghin. They will only destroy what threatens to destroy me. Welcome to the seat of Hammul.”

“Then what I heard is true,” said Tuatha.

“Indeed, I was the wife of that dark lord. I do not follow his ways, we left there for that reason. He has chained me to him because of his greed and desire, and although he did not mention it, I believe that when he dies, I will be released.”

“How can I trust you; how do I know what you are saying is true?”

“I can only tell you why I called you here, Tuatha son of Findabair. Sit down and I will explain.”

He sat and began to feel sleepy. He was asleep, no, he was awake and standing in the centre of a field between the mountains, beside him stood the queen.

“I will tell you in your dream, which is the way I can explain best what it is I must tell you.

“You will have no need to ask questions. I will tell you all I know and all there is to know.”

The scenery grew dark, the sun faded behind cloud. “You are seeing the rising dark times that are prophesied,” she said.

Tuatha was transported as though he was a bird over the high mountains and through the murk towards Sennol Uathach. Down and down towards Mt. Triune and into the mountain, where the deadly gas is made, where evil lives and broods. There he saw the preparations, he saw Ruad with the Dark Lord. He saw the cruelty at its full. The plans they had for all the Deep Lands. The feeling of despair that washed over him was too much to bear, he cried out collapsing. Ruad and the Dark Lord’s heads turned, smiling maliciously, toward Tuatha. He felt weak, vulnerable.

“I can’t, I can’t,” he cried. Their swords raised threateningly over his helpless form were the last things he saw, then he was back in a clearing of a forest, peaceful and still. The Queen was lying beside him, pale and breathing raggedly. He raised himself up and studied her face. Her eyes barely open, she whispered so quietly Tuatha had to lean close.

“That took all my strength, yet it had to be done. You needed to see what no other man knows, the danger that will come. Only then can you know what action must be taken.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Once more he was flying over the mountains, this time he looked back, he could see the field grow smaller, the seat of Hammul behind it. He was over lands he had only heard about in legend. By the position of the sun he could tell he was headed south toward the city of Esclarmonde. Once there he began descending over the city itself. He alighted on a roof, and leaning over he could see that it was a blacksmith’s shop.

Suddenly he was back in the seat of Hammul. Reclining on a couch, Laegaire beside him, holding his hand and looking worried.

Relief flooded her face, to see him wake.

The queen was no longer on the throne but stood on the balcony. The three brothers were now there too.

Queen Dagemar turned to Tuatha.

“Time is short Tuatha. You now know where you must go. I no longer have the strength to tell you more, except that what you are seeking is a scabbard. Not just any scabbard, this is the one that will bring your destiny to your feet.”

He pulled the sword from the cloth bundle. The Scatach steel seemed to glow, brighter and brighter.”

“The sword is to be named,” announced Queen Dagemar. “From henceforth it will be called Salchah, the bane of Sennol Uathach.”

It grew heavy and hot in his grasp. Light from the room seemed to be sucked into its blade and it shone with all its glory.

She continued, “It has been revealed where you must go. W in danger, hold the sword aloft. It’s power will protect you. I bid you farewell.”

Tuatha felt weak and shaky. His spirits low, he thought of his destiny, and it felt too great for him to bear.

Naoise, Ainnle and Ardan noticed and rushed over to help him. He smiled as Laegaire helped him walk back to his quarters.

“We know where you have been, we have been told that we are to go with you, to not leave your side,” said Ainnle.

“But for now, we all need sleep, we have much to do tomorrow.”

Tuatha smiled at each of them thankfully. The fear he felt was greatly reduced by the comfort in their words.

“So where are we headed for?” asked Naoise, next morning.

“Port Usnach” said Tuatha.

“Why that’s in our city. You will be welcomed Tuatha, into our house.”

“No, unfortunately I must remain anonymous. We cannot raise attention to ourselves. You also must not be recognised. We will travel at night. No one is to know we are here.”

They walked out of what was the front entrance to the Queen’s domain. As they walked down the steps the Queen and her daughter walked out, two figures against the mountain behind them. Tuatha and Laegaire’s eyes met, they smiled at each other. When things are over, thought Tuatha, I’m coming back here. Then he remembered he was to focus on the tasks at hand and he pushed the thought of her to the back of his mind, but he did not forget her.

Before them stood four white horses, saddles and supplies strapped to their backs.

Tuatha turned and bowed gratefully. The Queen waved, her face deeply etched with sadness.

“Go with my blessing” said her voice in his head.

They jumped onto the backs of the horses and rode down the mountain path, looking back all the while till they turned a corner, and the women were gone from view.

Laegaire watched from her balcony as Tuatha disappeared into the distance. Tears welled up in her eyes. She hoped to see him again and feared she would not.

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