Having agreed to leave Dúnrath for Gorias Na Druaidíi began the two day ride. Once there they would head to the Royal Palace to meet with the King and his Council. Dagda however had requested to take a different route to his brothers, preferring instead to make his own way to the City.
Ardgal, used to such appeals, had given his leave, provided Dagda was in the city before any War councils were held. Knowing that the calling of any Earls would take some days that was not an issue and Dagda had given his word he would do so.
He had taken his leave of the group at the crossroad of Baile Dubhain, there bidding them farewell. Tadhg and Cormac as always had asked if they would accompany him, and as usual he declined, there were his closest and dearest friends and would one day help him lead, yet they too were used to his habits and made no great fuss except to swear him to drinks once in the city.
They had parted ways at the crossroad of Baile Dubhain, Dagda’s route took him through Liath Forest and after a short time he came upon its border sentinels, there amongst the trees and wild beast he felt most at ease. As he entered the forest he felt the darkness provided by the shade of the majestic Oaks engulf him. He breathed easily, the forest held no fears, its roots are as deep in me as in its trees.
Indeed it was in a forest much like this he was raised, spending his childhood learning the names of every bush, tree and plant, and observing and connecting to each of its inhabitants, wild and dangerous or otherwise. It was in the forest he had learned the skills interwoven into Na Druaidíi soul. Fighting, swordplay, writing, artistry and Omen, for every skill painstakingly acquired a new runic tattoo inscribed. Now Dagda's body lay covered in a rich tapestry of drawings and illustrations. Though there was still much he needed to know and learn.
As the night approached so too did tiredness and finding a particularly powerful old Oak Dagda set up camp for the night. After fastening Sceolán’s reins to it’s huge trunk the young Druaid sat cross legged in its comforting cover. Tired though he was he knew sleep would not come easy and decided now was the time to contact Rwua. As always she was easily found, no matter how far apart they strayed from each other they maintained the connection. Fortunately now she was circling nearby. As Rwua came close he sensed her presence before he saw her, she landed to his left, though not before playfully nicking the top of his head first.
“Ah so good of you to show Rwua. You didn't think to come to Dúnrath no?” She fixed him with a heavily unconcerned stare, Dagda raised his hands in defence “Okay okay i guess you were busy then. At least you seem content.”
Dagda fed her some bits of bread from his saddlebag and forged the connection once more.The connection enjoyed between Druaidíi and the animals of the forest was common knowledge and compared to the Men it was indeed a far great connection, though a wild animal was still a wild animal. A hare for example could easily be bended or manipulated to serve a Druaidí's will, a bear less so. However the relationship between a Druaidíi and his Faere was far less known and its nature a closely guarded secret amongst their ranks.
Though they were now allies it was not wise to allow the Men know all of their secrets. Dagda remembered clearly when at the age of twelve, as many Druaidíi did, he chose one animal in which to develop and nurture the special bond. Even at that age he knew it would be an eagle, Rwua was always destined to be his. Though not like a warg from some oldwives tales of the Men, able to fully transfer their mind into the animals body, they could share a common mind and easily communicate, it was through this connection that Dagda was allowed rest easily, knowing by Rwua's acute eyes and ears that the surrounding area was safe from enemies or those which could do him harm.
Now would be a good time, reaching into his saddlebag once more Dagda recovered the luibh fírinne. Since the emergence from the Vaults and likely long before Na Druaidíi had harvested the mushrooms of the forest floor as they were known to provide the link between the world of the living and the worlds of dreams. Some believed it revealed the path to the true meaning of life and connection to the dead in Tír na Beo. Of that Dagda could not say but he had grown to use it on a regular basis and desired to know the meaning of the visions it generated.
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“Keep an eye out Rwu eh”?
Rwua responded with a tilt of her head, that will have to do I suppose. Dagda bit down heavily on the luibh fírinne. The bitter taste washed over him, yet by now the sensation was more uncomfortable familiarity than anything else, like plunging head first into a pail of icy water.
Dagda closed his eyes allowing the darkness consume his mind and body. It did not take long for its effect to take hold of him. Breathing deeply he felt his body relaxing and his mind along with it, deep inside him the emptiness began to unravel and colors began to slowly appear, until no darkness remained but a whole array of bright, shining lights. Dagda felt his body breathe in deeply and watched as the colors began to slowly assemble and take shape.
As the vision settled so too did his mind, Dagda found himself gliding effortlessly over endless fields of Oak, Ash and Sycamore trees, swooping low he elegantly slowed and descended down landing gracefully upon an overhanging branch with a full view of the forest path underneath him. Belvoir Forest. Of that there was no doubt, to his left he spied the old tower ruins of Spiare, an apparent legacy of the pre-flood Druaidíi,it was believed to have once been the greatest tower ever built on Aileann's ground. Though by Dagda's time little of it was left except three crumbling walls and an aged staircase that had as many holes in its interior as it had steps.
Yet it was a popular haunt for young Druaidíi as even in present times it continued to offer considerable views over the vast forest allowing those at its top to survey the surrounding areas. Dagda had even had his first kiss balanced upon its upper battlements.
His vision darkened slightly as two figures came bounding up the ancient pathway to the tower's base, both were clad in the robes of young Druaidíi though neither appeared familiar to him. He guessed their age at somewhere close to his though likely some few years younger, eighteen or nineteen perhaps. They were smiling and laughing both and as they made their way to the ruins and began climbing, he saw how they helped each other from ledge to ledge happily scaling its peaks. About halfway up they turned the corner and he lost sight of them. Though Dagda wanted to move and get to a better position he could not. He had no control over his body and resigned himself to the fact that he would be left to watch from a distance, though something inside him told him that it was important he see. His desire however was left unheard by his body.
As the pair made their way winding up the staircase they appeared briefly before disappearing once more from view. Curiously the further they climbed the darker the sky overhead became, with each ledge came another cloud and by the time they reached the top the sky had turned into a storm, gone was the bright, shining colors to be replaced by dark clouds and the beginning of thunder and lightning. Now at the top they were far from view but Dagda's sharp eyed sight meant he could still clearly make out the pair. Though he could not make out their words it was clear that the laughter and smiles from their journey to and climbing the tower were now absent, replaced instead by harsh, angry words as both argued back and forth. The air began to grow heavy and thunder and lightning filled the dark sky yet it seemed that the weather was emulating not from above but from the pair as they shouted back and forth across to each other. From the tower top came bursts of fire, wind and ice as both Druaidíi vented their anger without directly targeting the other, it seemed a sign of their frustration than anything else. However as the shouts became more heated so too did the Omen and Dagda could only watch on as the two began to attack one another without restraint, their omen crashing into the others as they struggled for supremacy.
The wild display became so blinding that even with his keen sight it was difficult for him to distinguish one from the other, one of the two however was starting to glow such was the Omen force radiating from them. Too brightly, too powerfully, it was the Omen in control not the wielder, it had overpowered them, Daga had seen such a thing happen before and he tried to turn away but his mind forbade him, the luibh fírinne dictated his dreams, not him.
Amidst the chaos unfolding upon the tower it was not until they were underneath him on the path that he saw two more figures charging towards the tower, hidden but somehow familiar they were frantically calling out someone's name. Wanting more than anything to hear the words he strained and willed all his power but even as he did so he felt his vision fading, the colors were growing ever more darker and obscure, soon the two figures were nothing but blurs, the forest became a shapeless mass and the tower crumbled in on itself. The last things Dagda saw were the blaze of Omen as it continued to burn ever brighter upon the tower's failing top, a beacon of uncontrollable power, and there just as he lost all sight he saw one solitary figure as they fled past him. Their face was indistinguishable but Dagda could sense the confusion, terror and pain as they ran, escaping hurriedly into the forests murky depths, lost forever.