Celthair awoke in a daze to the sound of the trumpet. Her head throbbed and her breath was short. Her chest felt tight, she realised she had kicked of the covers, and she was shivering, yet she felt hot.

She sat up and threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.

Around her the room seemed to pulse, leaning against the wall near the bed, the sword shimmered with heat. Celthair picked up the sword and it felt hot in her grasp. She walked to the window and looked outside. It was the largest Solas that she could see. The land before her was sand as far as the eye could see. Some remnants of trees lingered, dead, bleached by the heat.

Celthair looked back into the room. Ciaran still slept in the bed. She felt it was a little strange that they had been sleeping in the middle of the day. She walked out the room and through the city, leaving through the gates. Before her the desert stretched away into the horizon. She licked her lips and realised they were dry and cracked.

Something was pulling her, causing her to keep walking. She did not know why.

After a while she came to a Kopje, close around the rocks were sparse bushes and stunted trees. She sought shade from the oppressive heat, and sat down, beginning to feel hopeless. After a while she dozed off.

Then she was back in bed, Ciaran beside her snoring happily. Celthair thought about the dream, because that was what it had felt like, vivid, but a dream, it had felt so real. She dismissed the thoughts and rolled over, deliberately poking Ciaran in the ribs. He groaned and murmured something about it being too early. But his hoped were dashed and a trumpet sounded, signalling that they were to get ready to leave.

When Celthair and Ciaran arrived in the great hall they forgot they were still holding hands, many noticed but were not surprised at their public announcement of betrothal*.

Dom noticed and tried to hide his disappointment and for a moment, some anger flared in his eyes. Mags saw his reaction and immediately hope rose in her chest. He was lonely and needed someone, she thought to herself. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. He turned and saw her looking at him sympathetically, their eyes met and he pulled his arm away. Embarrassed that Mags had noticed his reaction. But later it was something that never left his mind. He felt where she had touched for a long time.

The whole travelling company had gathered, preparing for the journey to Imchad. Queen Darya was no longer in her royal clothes but was dressed for travel. Baal-ed was talking amicably with Bophorus. Baal-Ed and Celthair eyes met as she walked toward them, and he raised his arm for a friendly wave, his eyes shining with delight upon seeing her.

“You two look like a couple of old friends,” Celthair said as she came up to them.

“We feel like we have known each other for a lifetime,” chuckled Bophorus. “Turns out we are related on our mothers side.”

“Who is this?” asked Baal-Ed, eyeing Ciaran and looking down at their clasped hands. Celthair had Ciaran’s hand in hers as they walked into the hall and when she saw her old friend, she had forgotten and had pulled Ciaran along behind her.

She looked at his hand and reddened very slightly. Her heart leaped as she realised what they had inadvertently done. She felt at peace with the idea that now they were committed to each other, and looked at Ciaran for reassurance, who smiled happily at her and nodded.

Celthair introduced him, “This is Ciaran, Son of Ainnle and Caer Omaith of Esclarmonde.”

Ciaran bowed before the two giants.

Bophorus roared and leaped toward Ciaran, who looked startled and stepped backwards. After a few moments Ciaran opened his eyes slowly, not having received the expected blow. Before him was the giant’s hand, held toward him in a gesture of welcome. His faced beamed a huge smile. At least it could only be that as to the untrained eye, a giant’s smile is more of a warlike grimace, a little like they are suffering some stomach pain.

“I knew your father; the great Ainnle taught me how to fight when I was a young recruit. He was a noble and great man. So, he married did he and you are the result. I can see the likeness.”

Ciaran reached out and placed his hand on the giant’s forefinger, accepting his gesture.

Bophorus’ mouth went into an even wider grimace. “Tell me of your father and your mother.” Their conversation went to just between them as Celthair turned to Baal-Ed.

Baal- ed looked at her with interest. “Where did you get your strength from? You are as strong as a giant.”

“No one has been able to tell me, and no one knows.”

Baal-Ed thought for a moment. “Bophorus told me you were raised for many years, in Imchad. It is possible you were touched by the light of the Anakim. Many strange things have happened there. I am eager to go there.”

“What do you know of the light of the Anakim?” asked Celthair.

“It is where they get their healing powers. No one really knows what it is. But when you watch a healer, they do something no one sees because they do it so covertly. I have seen it, because nothing escapes Baal-Ed’s eye. Once when I was captured by them as a young recruit, I was badly wounded, and they were healing everyone, even the enemy. The giant who healed me used a small viol which he tried to hide from me. But I saw it. I think that in that viol was the light of the Anakim. That’s all I know and can surmise.”

The group began to leave the hall and make its way to the gates of the city. The entire company of Anakim and a smaller contingent of Emim, along with the original group who had left the Dark City. At the gates they could see nothing except the glow of the leading torchbearer as it was still dark, the first sun would not rise for a while but there was a glow on the horizon.

***

From the top of a hill in the darkness a dark and hooded figure silently and unmoving, watched the departure of the giants from the city, in the growing light he could see the smaller people walking with them. If they could see him against the black sky, they would have seen an old man with a white beard. He held a long staff and purple lightning crackled lightly over its surface. When they had disappeared over the horizon, only then did he turn and mount a horse and follow in the same direction. Buadach had been following them, like a malevolent shadow, full of dark intent.

***

The journey to Imchad was uneventful. The landscape became rockier and undulating. They dismounted the horses and led them along. There was no road through the impassable mountain range. There was only one path, and it would take a newcomer a lifetime to find. Only the Anakim knew of it’s existence. As they approached the secret path, Celthair could see a giant cliff face that curved slightly behind them and then off into the distance. It was a thousand feet high and below they could see the land of the Anakim stretching out before them, green and rich and very flat, till the distance was eventually hidden by the mist that was in the air.

Eventually they were walking single file along the cliff top and the path dipped down into a small valley which narrowed and led downwards on a slight incline. Celthair looked up and saw the walls of rock over their heads with a small line of blue sky high above. Then suddenly it widened out and the company spread out on a large flat rock. The path looked to have ended, and the edge of the cliff came up so suddenly that a bout of vertigo hit her, and she wobbled precariously.

“Watch out,” said Ciaran and his arms wrapped around her, pulling her back form the edge.

“Where do we go now?” said Mags. “Do we just jump off and hope for the best? Maybe on the way down, I’ll learn how to fly,” she said, flapping her arms like a bird.

“Go on then,” said Dom, “I’ll help you.” He held her by the arms and pushed her toward the edge. Mags squealed in fear and turned, pushing against Dom. Somehow her arms slipped in his and she fell against him. Dom stumbled and fell back with Mags atop him. He grunted with her weight and her face was above his. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment. Celthair and Ciaran laughed aloud at their antics. Then looked at each other knowingly.

Mags rolled off him and stood brushing herself off with her hands. Dom lay panting with the wind knocked out of him.

“Help me up,” he asked Mags.

She put out her hand and allowed Dom to grab it. He suddenly pulled her down to him and she squealed again which turned into a laugh.

Celthair left them to their frolic and turned, noting that nearly all the giants were gone. She had been unable to see where they were going but as they thinned, she saw a line of heads disappearing below the rock, seemingly over the edge of the cliff. She grabbed her horses reigns and followed the last Emim giant. Then she saw it, there was a path which became a steep line of steps, down the cliff face. There was a simple rope supported by stout logs jammed into holes along the edge of the steps which were on the edge of the precipice.

“We must leave now,” called out Celthair. She looked back and saw Dom and Mags kissing. She grinned and Ciaran grabbed her hand again and they left Dom and Mags alone on the flat rock.

The steps, zig zagged down the cliff face for what seemed like an eternity. They could see the line of giants ahead of them at times and sometimes they were hidden. As they descended the air became thicker and warmer and they needed to remove their thick layers of clothes until at the bottom. All they wore was their tunics, their clothes packed in their saddle bags. The horses struggled down the steps and stumbled dangerously at times. But eventually they got to the bottom safely.

The heat became more intense with the humidity that was in the air. The foliage was vibrant and luxurious. A multitude of bird noise filled the air. Celthair breathed it all in and sighed happily.

“It’s good to be back.” She said taking off her tunic and putting her head back, her arms apart. She unstrapped the scabbard of the sword at her side. As she clipped it to her horses saddle, she hesitated and touched its hilt. Looking around to make sure no one was there, as if she feared it would be taken.

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Ciaran’s heart nearly stopped when he saw her out of her royal robes and armour. She looked more vulnerable and her feared her a little less.

“A waterfall,” said Celthair, running off after the rushing sound.

Ciaran ran after her, the horses following him obediently, also happy to go toward the sound of water. When he found her, she was standing on a rock above a pool, as clear as crystal. As Ciaran arrived, she dove in and emerged, laughing with happiness.

Ciaran stripped down and dove in after her, swimming up to her, wanting to be a part of Celthair’s enthusiasm. He grabbed her and pulled her to him, and they kissed and held each other, enjoying their shared solitude.

Around the pool it was a forest of colour, different greens and flowers of all colours. So different from their home country and the land they had just travelled through. It was unlike anything Ciaran had ever seen. The temperate climate of Esclarmonde had its extremes of hot and cold, but the constant balmy air of Emain Macha was like a paradise. To Celthair it was home, memories flooded back of her childhood, from when she was five cycles old, to when they left and she was sixteen cycles old, it was only good memories. She had felt homesickness and mourned leaving Imchad for a long time after her family had returned to Athlethan. But she soon forgot and grew to love Athlethan. Now Celthair was back, she no longer missed her second home.

As Celthair and Ciaran lay on a rock in the sun, Dom and Mags arrived.

“I knew we would find you here!” she said. “As soon as I heard the waterfall, I just knew.” She looked about them in wonder. She, like Ciaran was dazzled by the surrounding beauty.

It was not long before she too was in the pool, swimming along under the waterfall and laughing.

Dom stood on the rock and watched them. He looked dejected and sad. He sat down and stared at the waterfall.

When Mags joined them on the rock, Celthair looked at Dom and then at Mags questioningly.

Mags shook her head and pretended to not care, changing the subject.

As the afternoon wore on, they all dozed on the rock, the sun had gone behind the trees, but the rock was warm from being heated all day.

They were all awoken by Thunder. The sky was dark, although it was still day. They could smell rain in the air. They began to dress and hastily pack their belongings back on the horses.

“We must find shelter; it will get cold if we get too wet.”

They mounted the horses and looked back wistfully at the memories of that day and the paradise they had not wanted to leave.

Celthair’s hand brushed the hilt of the black sword, and she felt she would fail without it, she hurriedly strapped it on. Looking around as if to make sure no one saw her do so. It suddenly felt heavy and the air around her thrummed. It went dark as if the sun was covered. The horses started and snorted, rearing up, unwilling to go forward. Before them stood a black figure, a hood hiding their features.

Celthair felt a pressure in her head. Here pulse throbbed in her neck and heaviness weighed her down.

The figure spoke. His voice loud above the thunder that rolled constantly, waxing and waning in its volume. He held a long staff and pointed it at Celthair.

“Celthair, what are you doing? Your duty was to the people, to lead them. You must return to them now.”

Celthair realised who it was.

“Buadach, I am for the people, I am finding a cure. I need the peoples trust. I need to win it back.”

“You do not need their trust Celthair, daughter of Amerghin. Your grandfather did not have their trust, yet they followed him without question. They are willing to sacrifice a few of their own to have you as queen. You need but return and they will follow you unquestioningly. They fear you but they love you for it.”

Celthair felt his words had merit and she had trouble fighting the logic. Her head ached when she tried to reason with it and the sword thrummed again. She placed her hand on the hilt of the sword, it felt hot and was vibrating.

Why was she going on this dangerous and unnecessary quest. She had a right to the throne. She didn’t need to prove anything to them. The weakness she had felt, melted away and the sword continued to hum. She dismounted and walked toward Buadach. The power she felt, grew and the weakness she had felt a few moments before was gone. She remembered the weakness and laughed at the stupidity of it. She remembered the way the sword had drawn power from the ground and wanted it again. She remembered how and drew the sword. She needed some of it now. Celthair placed the sword tip on the ground in front of her. This time she lessened the feeling that had caused it the first time, back in Imchad.

Ciaran was stunned and didn’t know what was happening. Celthair had dismounted. The wind had come up and was pushing their nervous horses backwards. Ciaran dismounted and tried to walk toward Celthair and the hooded figure, but she seemed to grow smaller and further away.

His cry came out of shock and disappointment, he knew what was happening was not good.

“Celthair” he cried, screaming her name into the now roaring wind that was increased by the wind in the trees.

Celthair had placed the sword tip on the ground, and she heard her name, faintly, from behind her. She turned her head and saw only Ciaran, as if walking against a wind.

The feeling of weakness returned but an emotion rose in her heart. A different kind of ache. A feeling of loss. The power that flowed through her did not only give her strength but foresight. She saw Ciaran, lost forever. Solitude and loneliness. The destiny of a dark queen, devoted to a higher power, a dark lord. Then she saw the ability she would have to forget, and she turned away. There was a flash of lighting and the crack of thunder where she had stood, and she devoted her thought to the hunger for the elemental energy that flowed through the sword. Her hair stayed white, but her eyes went dark. Once more Celthair became the dark queen of Sennol Uathach.

“Where is this?” asked Celthair, looking around.

Buadach smiled. “You bought us here, you tell me?”

From the top of the mountain they were on, toward the now setting sun she could see a vast flat land, behind them a storm raged, she could see the massive while thunder head, reaching high into the heavens. To the south were a range of massive mountains and to the north she could see ocean. She marvelled at her own ability to do what she had just done. She had transported here, using elemental power.

“We are somewhere north of Emim city, in the mountains.”

“Correct,” said Buadach. “There are portals all over the deep lands. This one is on what only those who know the power we wield as the Black Mountain, these are areas of higher concentration of elemental power, like Mt. Triune. When you access the power of Mac-Roth, you can use that power to do many things. Two you have done. In Imchad, it was unused power that escaped and made up its own purpose which was the pandemic. Now you have learned how to transport, you learned that yourself.”

“All I thought was that I did not want to be there any-more.” Said Celthair.

“That is all you need to do,” said Buadach. “You can use the power, but you must limit it, it comes at cost. Your body will age a cycle each time you use it. Use it too much and you will lose time.” You will outlive many men, but you will age in appearance, even your grandfather restricted his use of power, he did not want to die, he only used it when necessary.” He paused for a moment.

“Ask me any questions you have; I will try to answer you.”

“Can I reverse the pandemic?” I feel it will be easier if I heal them myself. I will transport there and do it, I do not care if I age two cycles.”

“Giving life to one is easy. But to give life to many would age you to an early grave. It is not that easy. It would be easier to rule who ever remains. They will worship you if you heal only two or three. Heal some children and they will love you and fear you enough for them to serve you.”

Something twinged, deep in Celthair’s heart. “But I want to heal them,” she said.

“Remove that notion,” Buadach snapped, his voice suddenly snarling. “It will not work, trust me!”

“We will stay here, and you will train under me, for as long as it takes. This place is kept stocked with food for times such as this. We have a cave, beds and firewood. We will return to the Black City when you are ready. There you will lead your people. You will rule all the deep lands.”

The weeks went by and Celthair learned the use of the power, through the sword, Mac-Roth.

Although she never shared it with Buadach, her master and teacher, Celthair had doubts. The first doubt came when the words Buadach last said to her when they arrived on the Black Mountain, “you will rule the deep lands.”

Yes, she desired to rule her people, but she did not want conquest or battle. Buadach, often spoke of battle strategy, how to strategize using elemental power. But her heart was not in that. Those lessons passed quickly because she already had learned battle strategy in her early years from her father.

Her father, that was the next doubt that crept into her heart and mind. She loved him deeply and the love was strong enough for thought of him to not part from her. Buadach sensed it, when she spoke of him, and he did his best to try to teach her how to forget him and find her own path. So Celthair did not mention him, only thought of him. Ciaran was a fleeting memory because she had only spent a little time with him. But her father’s memory would always be there, like a tiny spark of electricity that had the power to start a fire.

Those doubts grew but so did her knowledge of all the things she could do with elemental power. She learned to devise strategy over people thinking, how her actions could either increase or decrease the fear in her subjects as needed. Keeping the control over them. But this power she struggled to apply to her father. She knew he was resolute in his thinking. He would never stand for her plots to control the people. This spark for good always kept the doubts fed. That perhaps this way was not right.

She struggled with the doubts, they flared up, brighter each time as Buadach expounded his knowledge to her. The same knowledge the Dark Lord had passed on to the twelve sub lords, in the early days in the Deep Lands.

One day, after a particularly long and hard lesson, Celthair went wandering down the mountain. To escape Buadach and his now incessant monotone voice that seemed to be wearing her nerves thin. The cloud that often shrouded the mountain was gone and the sunshine took away the cold in the air. She threw off the thick animal skins she had been wearing and looked upwards, her eyes closed. Her eyelids were bright red with the sunshine that seeped through her skin.

Suddenly the red went black, and she opened her eyes, expecting to see a cloud across the suns. She fell back in terror. A massive black shape with wings swooped down toward her and landed heavily. /Its massive claws clattered against the rocks. A wind from its wings rushed about her. She closed her eyes again and cowered, her arm over her head, expecting death to come swiftly.

Buit nothing happened. All she could hear was a rumbling resonant growl and breathing.

Celthair opened one eye, looking upward. The sound was familiar, then the shape she had seen flashed through her mind. It was the sound and shape from her early childhood and again in the halls of Athlethan when she was Seventeen cycles old.

A voice spoke, that seemed to come from somewhere deep, because it began with a rumble, like you hear before an eruption of magma.

“Hello, my little Keltie.”

Only one had ever called her that. She stepped backward, several times till she could see the whole of his face, the face of Dray-Goen.

The Leviathan, was an ancient creature, created by Riangbra to protect the first arrivals to the deep lands. Once friends with the people, then mis-treated, they retreated to the Island of Dungerness and hid for many cycles. They were befriended by Tuatha and were once more protectors of the people. They helped in the last great battle when Amerghin called the elemental creatures from deep in the earth. They guided the good and kept fear alive in the minds of those who devised evil. Dray Goen was a large leviathan, Black scales and a long neck bristling with sharp scales. Long muscular legs and a long tail. The wings had a gigantic span, and his head was fierce looking, bristling with teeth. Smoke often came from their nostrils, a warning of their fire breathing ability. They could swallow magma and spit it at their enemies. Leviathan never fought against other people. They only fought elemental powers and creatures. They did this to protect all people, good and bad from elementals destructive power. All these things can be read in the Chronicles of Athlethan the third age.

Celthair squealed with delight, as if her childhood had come back all at once.

“Dray Goen, I have missed you so much!” she ran forward to his nearest leg and wrapped her arms around it. Relief flooded across her. All she had wanted was another face, someone else other than Buadach who only ever spoke to her the lessons he wished to teach her. Dray Goen provided that relief.

Dray Goen sniffed her, his hot breath washing over her.

“You smell bad,” he said, “what are you doing up here?”

“Smell bad?” she asked, her face reddening, “I have been keeping clean. What do you mean?”

“That smell, the one that comes from deep in the earth. I will always know it. Are you learning of the eiliminteach?” He asked, using the old tongue for the elemental power.

“I am,” replied Celthair, worried about his response.

Dray Goen placed his eye as low as he could she it was right next to Celthair, and peered at her. It felt as if he was looking into her very soul.

“You must be careful with it, it is dangerous and in the wrong hands....”

“I know,” said Celthair, and she began to talk fast, Dray Goen watching her carefully. She told him everything, it was what Buadach never did. He dismissed her thoughts and never listened without cutting her off and telling her to dismiss them.

It took a whole hour of constant talk before she finished and Dray Goen never moved. Only settled his body down into a more comfortable position in the two suns rays. Celthair had sat down in one of his toes.

Dray Goen continued to look at her after she had finished. She looked at him expectantly. She had finished telling him of all she had been taught by Buadach and of her doubts.

Dray Goen did not ridicule her or punish her with stern words or discouraging arguments. He simply rumbled and said, “If I would trust anyone with your power, it would be you, Kelpie. I have investigated your heart; you will choose right; of this I am certain!”

They sat, thinking their own thoughts for a few moments. Celthair humbled by the Leviathans words to her. The doubt becoming resolve within her. She knew the power she had, of its corrupting influence. She vowed never to use it again. She would travel to Imchad and speak with Queen Ariadne.

“Can you take me to Imchad?” she asked. “I must find this light of the Anakim.”

Dray Goen nodded. “Hop on!”

Celthair climbed up Dray Goen, gracefully and respectfully till she was perched atop his broad neck. She strapped Mac Roth to her side, grabbed his dorsal scales and with one massive flap of his wings, Dray Goen launched upwards toward the top of the Black Mountain. Buadach roared in fury, seeing her on his back. But his frustrated cries faded away and Dray Goen glided gracefully down toward the distant hazy greenness of Emain Macha. Of course, they stopped at the lagoon where they both lay in the warm water. Celthair slept for a day and a night in the crook of Dray Goens arm. After one last swim, they left toward Imchad.