They caught up with the others just as they were making camp. Their path would take them to the South Western most point of Aileann, far away from prying eyes. But the journey would take all of 3 days to make and would not be an easy one, escaping into Belvoir had been just one step in what would be a difficult task. They would need all the rest they could get for such a journey.
Dagda cantered in past the guards, their surprised faces confirming that they had indeed thought him dead. Tadhg and Cormac rode along behind him, making for the centre of the camp Dagda heard the murmurs and whispers bouncing from one lip to another.
As he came to the central fire he saw the crowd disperse and Darragh make his way through, “Dagda, you’re alive, praise be to the Gods. There were so many different reports, conflicting accounts, and none of them good.” Darragh peered behind to Tadhg and Cormac and further beyond, he gave a quick glance towards the forest and his face dropped ever so slightly, though he hid it well from those around him.
“Come, sit by the fire, there is much for us to discuss and decide upon. Leader.” Darragh bowed lowly and all around the others followed his lead.
It took a moment to realise that the ‘Leader’ Darragh was referring to was him, Dagda almost expected Ardgal to emerge. The title felt strange and uncomfortable to him, like wearing a friend’s shoes, even if it fits it just didn’t feel right. Yet he appreciated such a gesture and bowed his head in acknowledgement to Darragh as he took a seat by the fire.
Maire sat down beside him and offered him a horn of ale, Dagda took a long sip, he felt eyes eagerly looking to him for answers. Not now.
“Questions can wait until later, there is a more pressing issue right now. Farda lives?”
He addressed the question to no one in particular, “Aye, he lives, the Gods have something else in mind for him it seems.” Darragh was the one to answer.
Dagda scoffed, “The Gods. The Gods have long since lost interest in our affairs it seems.”
Darragh shrugged, “Perhaps. In any case the bounds Ardgal had put on him remain, he’s under guard just in case but he’s not likely to go anywhere, not like that. Besides I believe he has accepted that he must go on trial.”
Dagda broke off a piece of bread, “On trial? May I ask why?”
A few laughs broke out but quickly dissipated when they realised it was no joke. Maire looked at him incredulously, “For his betrayal of course, for taking matters into his own hands and for falsely imprisoning and raising arms against a fellow Druaid.”
Dagda stopped his chewing, “I did not ask what he did, I asked why he must go on trial? To what purpose. You were present for his actions same as me. Does anyone doubt our accounts? The accounts of every member of the Council?”
When no one answered Dagda pressed on, “This is no mere petty crime or minor dispute. He tried to have us killed or worse, enslaved, sacrificed. So I ask again why a trial? His guilt and the guilt of any and all who conspired with him is not in doubt. By all means have a trial for his supporters but as for him, the ringleader and any who raised arms against their brothers and sisters, they must be punished accordingly.”
Darragh raised a questioning eyebrow, “Accordingly?”
Dagda stared into the fire, “Death.”
Darragh cleared his throat, “Dagda, Leader, no Druaidíi is permitted to bring death unto another, we all swore an oath.”
Dagda spat out barley seeds onto the floor beside him, “That oath was drawn up over 3000 years ago during the very first Human Druaidíi Wars, its purpose to prevent infighting amongst ourselves so as to combat the growing threat of the men. It does not have any relevance to this situation, we cannot allow open betrayals of our own kind go unpunished. He must die and be shown as an example to others who harbour thoughts of any form of deceit or treachery.”
There were a few mumbles of agreement from those gathered, not all though.
Darragh eyed Dagda carefully, “I understand your pain and anger at this time Dagda, Ardgal and Michaél meant many things to many people, me amongst them. But there are certain procedures, certain protocols in place, as they have been for 1000s of years, it is tradition, our tradition.”
Dagda shrugged, “A tradition without intelligence is not worth having in my mind. I am not afraid of change, if not now then when? It is time we looked at our ways of living and reassessed what exactly it is we need. How exactly is it we must now move forward.”
“Perhaps we should let Farda speak.”
“Perhaps you should fuck off.” Tadgh replied without missing a beat.
It was Diarmid or Diarmad that spoke, Dagda could never remember his name, an old Druaid once of Tearmann no doubt he was one of Farda’s believers. He loitered by the edge of the fire his gaze fixed on Dagda.
Dagda clenched his fist in fury and sighed deeply, he had no wish to speak any further with Farda but he knew it was something he must face eventually. Better to get it over now and be done with it.
Dagda waved Tadgh down, “Very well then, have him brought up if you wish, hear the treachery for yourselves.”
Still bound as Dagda had last seen him, Farda was brought to kneel before them by Connor, dragging him roughly to the floor. When the covering over his head was ripped off him Farda took a long deliberate breath before looking to those assembled all around him.
“Brothers, sisters,” he turned to face Dagda, his expression a perfect picture of pain and sympathy, too perfect.
“Dagda,” Farda shook his head as if lost for words, “I cannot… do not know where to begin, No Ardgal, No Michaél. I know how much they meant to you, meant to us all, to me.”
He turned his head downward as if in shame, “If only I had made them see, but there was no time, not then. I have failed.”
“Failed? Failed to do what? You betrayed Ardgal, betrayed us all. You had your fellow Druaidíi apprehended with the purpose of sacrificing them to the men. You would have seen them killed.”
Darragh spoke with an intense anger in his voice, Dagda said nothing but kept his eyes locked on Farda.
Farda laughed maniacally, “Darragh, Ardgal was amongst my oldest and dearest friends. I knew he would not, could not agree to my plan, so I did what I thought right. For everyone, for all of us. Believe me no harm would have come to any Druaidíi under my watch. That was my plan all along, when I went to meet with the men I would never have truly allowed the men lay their hands on Ardgal, or Michaél, or you Dagda for that matter. Never. I would have used their desperate desire for Dún na Rí and our technology and abilities to negotiate a favourable deal. I had guarantees, there are things you do not understand, things Ardgal would not agree to.” He shook his head dejected. “Using you three as bait for them to come to the negotiation table was my plan all along. I knew if I could only get them there then I would easily be able to bend them to my will. But,” Farda looked imploringly to the crowd collected by the fire, “but I needed a reason to get the men there. One which Ardgal could provide. I knew however that he would not agree to such a plan so I made a quick decision for the good of our people. A calculated and strategic manoeuvre.
Farda gazed up at the sky, “No one would have died, no one should have died. But it is my fault. I accept that. I should have told Ardgal my plans from the start, I should have entrusted him with my plan. I went about it all wrong. I see that now.”
Darragh grunted in disapproval and many others along with him, not all though.
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Dagda tilted his head at Farda, “No harm would have come to us you say. And tell me with us gone, who would you have rule?”
Farda’s silence was answer enough, “I see. So by the hands of the men you would have yourself placed as leader”
“Would that have been so bad? Are we so well off. Whatever you may say or claim my conscious is clear, your father, our leader and ruler, where did he lead us? He may have freed us from our besieged home, but at what cost? How many of our people lay dead or dying for the privilege? The giants, Ardgal’s close friends, have already headed home never to be seen or heard of again. Look at us, refugees in our own forest, aimless, hopeless and with no future ahead of us. Some of us had to do something, I could not stand idly by and watch as we sank deeper and deeper into a neverending demise, slowly and painfully growing weaker and weaker until nothing of the Druaidíi remains. I could not allow it. I would not allow it.”
Farda shook his head at Dagda, “Ardgal did well for Dún na Rí, very well, he done what he felt was best and ruled us well. For a time, a long time. But things change, people sometimes do not. He is your father I know but he made mistakes, hard as that may be for you to hear. A change was needed, I decided to make it.”
Dagda took a step forward, “You decided to make it. To take matters into your own hands yes? Just like you did at Tearmann all those years ago.”
Farda’s eyes lit up in fury, “Tearmann? Do not speak of my home. Your father abandoned us, I called for aid and he refused, he refused me and only arrived then when it was too late. Our home and city burned to the ground and then you have the nerve to blame me. Whatever was done could have been resolved had Ardgal only agreed to ride to our aid sooner. He didn’t.” Farda spat heavily, “He left us, me, his people to scramble and flee for our lives, Tearmann’s population decimated and our wives and children killed. And then I was supposed to thank you for the fact? My people needed me too, so I did, and let it lay for all our sakes. Putting my own pride and feelings aside.”
Dagda laughed bitterly, “Your pride? Your pride is what destroyed Tearmann fool, your pride is what killed those women and children, what destroyed and ruined your city. And it is your pride which refuses to let you see the fact. My father saved you. Was he to abandon his own city already under attack to save yours? To rectify your mistake and foolishness? No instead he routed the men and led a charge to save what remained of the people you had led to ruin. And this is how you repay him.”
“Repay him?” Farda almost choked on the words, “I lost everything I had and was destined to live on with the nightmares of our annihilation. Nightmares I still have to this day. Their blood lies at Ardgal’s feet as does the blood of those which have died this day. The blood of the Druaidíi.”
Dagda felt a cold chill pass through him, no one moved and the palpable tension was left hanging in the air. There was no returning now.
He drew his claíomh, “Release him. Take off his chains.”
Darragh stepped in front of Farda, “Dagda, Leader or not I cannot allow you to do this madness. He must be put on trial, we cannot stoop so low as to kill a fellow Druaid.”
“He should have been killed long ago. When he first caused us to lose Tearmann, my father was too lenient. I will not make that mistake. Give him his claíomh. Now.” Dagda whispered the words barely controlling the Omens building within him.
Darragh stayed unyielding in place catching Dagda as he made to move past him and holding him back, “You cannot Dagda, whatever he has done you cannot.”
Dagda cast him aside and threw down a lann ciorcail at Farda’s feet.
“Cut your bounds, I’ll not have it said I killed you unarmed.”
Farda duly obliged, his face showed no emotion all the while, untying his bounds as the guards looked on confused but unwilling to reject Dagda’s demands.
“Stop this now, Dagda this is not the way,” Maire screamed the words but to Dagda her cry seemed many leagues away, a distant afterthought. Only one thing mattered now.
“End this now, Connor to me, Dagda, Leader or not I am sorry I cannot allow you-” Darragh’s words were caught in his throat as he, Connor and three more guards were sent flying backwards from the force of Dagda’s Omen.
Dagda channelled his anger, his pain and his strength and summoned his source allowing it to flow through him.
“Dagda, you are no worse than him, stop this if Ardgal were here-”
“He is not here. I am.” Dagda turned to Fiona his eyes ablaze and stared to her and beyond into the crowd daring anyone to intervene, his body shimmered but he felt only power, control. None moved cept two as Dagda saw Tadhg and Cormac take up position behind him claíomhs in hand. He raised his hood.
Farda’s face had changed, where there was once nothing now when he looked at Dagda there was fear in his eyes. He should fear.
Dagda swung his claíomh slowly at first, over and over again he twisted and whirled until the blades became an invisible blur as he walked down steadily on Farda. Farda gritted his teeth, he was no stranger to battle and began rotating his body sideways and bringing his blade to rest in front of his face. He paused a moment taking in a deep breath before he charged seeking to gain the initiative. He crashed into Dagda’s defence and they began a vicious trading of blows one after the other with no respite or quarter given. Dagda felt each blow as it struck, parrying and veering he waited and studied. He is fast, but not fast enough.
When Farda finally took a step back for space Dagda pounced and lunged aiming for his head he struck out lashing a hail of blows until Farda raised his defence ever so slightly, Dagda feinted yet another high arching cut before veering at the last second to slice into Farda’s vulnerable thigh.
As he slipped Dagda pivoted using Farda’s own blade to swing around and strike out again to his left hip before stepping back out of reach.
However Farda showed no signs of faltering nor did he seek any respite, instead ignoring his wounds he released a burst of flame as he retreated steadily backwards, Dagda caught the flames in a wall of ice, using the ensuing mist as cover he charged forward using his own flames to pin Farda back summoning earth as his defence. Right at the point of contact Dagda’s flames finally got through and as Farda desperately tried to recover Dagda leaped driving his claíomh right across Farda’s torso.
When Dagda turned to face Farda once more he found him down on his knees with head bent forward. A crimson grin was etched onto his chest and the blood ran like tears down his body.
Farda looked down at his side and when his hand came away so too did a current of blood. He wiped his hands clean on his chest before retaking grip of his claíomh. He struggled to his feet once more, he will die standing at least.
“Dagda No,not like this.” Maire stepped in front of him, arms outstretched willing him to calmness. She shook her head despairingly at him and Dagda felt a twinge of guilt enter him on seeing the horror in her eyes. But it was late, too late for that now. Dagda ran swiftly weaving out of Maire’s range as she tried in vain to block him. By the time he reached Farda he was at full speed, Farda had readied himself as best as he could and stood precariously balanced on one leg, singed and broken, he raised his claíomh feebly and powerless. Dagda bounded past him spinning around his guard and beyond, it was only when his momentum slowed and he at last came to a stop that he finally noticed those gathered all around to every side of him.
There was complete and utter silence from all. The noise of Farda’s head as it fell onto the forest floor reverbated and spread until it seemed to Dagda the only noise in the world. For the first time in over 3000 years a Druaidíi lay dead by the hands of another. Dagda turned slowly to gaze at the man he once considered an elder and close friend of his father. A man I once admired and looked up to.
No one moved or spoke. Everywhere Dagda looked he saw and recognised the brother and sisters of his youth, Druaidíi he had kissed and slept with, drank and fought with, trained and learned with. Druaidíi he had known and loved since his earliest days. Each one looked on in confusion, bewilderment and horror as Dagda shimmered with the force of his Omens, the force of his anger. Farda lay dead, the Druaid who had betrayed him and his father and their people lay dead, yet Dagda felt no joy, no satisfaction, the pain remained but now lay draped in feelings of doubt and unease.
Maire made her way over to Farda, she kneeled by his side, her eyes lifted and met Dagda’s, she shook her head once more. “Dagda no, not like this, this is not how we are, not how we rule or govern. Ruler or not you do not get to decide a fellow Druaidíi’s fate.”
She looked at him with sorrow in her eyes, she did not need to say, no one did. Leader or not Dagda knew the price of his act, the same punishment his uncle had once faced. Exile. Exiled to never see or return to Aileann on pain of death. Dagda glanced once more at Farda’s head lying unceremoniously on the ground, he thought his face bore a grin on its features but he looked away before he could be sure.
To his left Dagda saw Darragh, Connor and the two others he had dismissed being helped to their feet. Dagda sheathed his blade, he turned and began his walk, I will save them the formalities, my life now lies elsewhere. I am done in Aileann.
The high pitched unmistakable screech of an eagle broke through the morning’s mist. Dagda didn’t react as Rwua swooped down to land on his shoulder, he kept on walking. He did not look back.