In the Black city much had deteriorated. Many were still dying and Buadach had returned. He had forced his way into the council and taken control. First, he had promised healing which was not curing those he touched but instead used his abilities to deceive by covering the symptoms. Those people died too but he covered it up by removing whole families and locking them away. Soon he took control of the army and prepared for the return of the one he had once engendered hope in. He had lost Celthair to the Leviathan. He was not going to lose power.

Buadach walked into the council assembly, flanked by soldiers, loyal to him along with three military generals he had promised power to. These men were cruel and fearless, desiring the power they once had under Amerghin.

When they saw these men. There was genuine fear in the councils eyes, and they dare not speak. The Generals had been banished but were now back and had the army of the black city under their control once more.

He strode to the top of the platform and commenced his final words to the council and the gathered people, that would finalise his plan to gain power and keep it from Celthair should she return.

“Your queen will not return,” he commenced. There were audible sighs and groans and some quiet exclamations of “No!” to this.

“With my own eyes I saw her ride a leviathan to the west. She told me she had failed and asked me to return to you as your leader, to help you through this plague that is upon us. She failed to find a cure, but I believe I have found one.” The audible cries died away and a murmur of hope arose in the hall.

“Some of you have witnessed the cure and many are now well again.”

Buadach motioned for four people to come to the platform, and they stepped forward. They were still sick, but he had wrought his elemental powers on them to make them believe they were well. They had been painted with a healthy glow to make them look sound once more.

The speaker for the four gave an account of how well he was and endorsed Buadach and his abilities as healer, as he had been told to say.

The people that were allowed in, all healthy, cheered. But the council seemed unimpressed.

Buadach took note of the four councillors who were demeaning him to the others. Pointing out the faults in his argument. He took note of who they were.

“We shall allow the council to deliberate on my words,” he said condescendingly. “We shall reconvene on the morrow.”

The council disbanded and the people returned hopefully into the city, spreading the news of their new leader that bought with him a cure. Celthair was forgotten as their most recent ruler. Buadach was with them and had with him hope of a bright future. He whispered some words to one of the generals. Some councillors and their families would go missing that night, the ones who had spoken against him.

Buadach made his way back to his lavish house, surrounded by his bodyguard, the best trained warriors of the Black City. There were many soldiers, he had instructed them that if Celthair arrived they were to kill or capture her or her friends, on sight. He also organised the training of soldiers who used large crossbows on wheels with long metal bolts that could bring down a leviathan.

Buadach had become cruel and merciless. Gone was his pleasant demeanour. Replaced with impatience and the latent desire for power that he had planned to achieve through Celthair’s claim to the throne. It was not his ideal way to rule. He wanted the peoples trust, not just to rule them with fear. The people were afraid of the illness and only came to him because they needed safety. He knew they did not want him as their ruler, but now they had no choice.

He had already quelled an uprising of people, organised by members of the old council. But he had killed them all, secretly and covered them up by planting clever rumours. He had also managed to put together this trusted group of military commanders, to whom he gave authority to keep the people conformed to his rule. When people publicly spoke against him, they went missing and soon a pall of fear would fall over the people. They would no longer speak against him, for fear of death. It was reminiscent of the past for many of the older residents, when Amerghin ruled. Many secretly lamented the disappearance of Celthair, many still held hopes of her return. Her promises to them had been seen as genuine and contrite, her mistakes a normal result of her youth.

Celthair spoke loudly between each stroke of Dray Goens wings. The rushing sound was loud as they travelled high above the azure water of the Chalice Sea.

“Not long now, I will not hesitate to begin the work of reversing this disease.”

Dray Goen began to slowly dive as the darkening land came into view. The black city stood out like an ink blot on old parchment.

“Ciaran, you must go to the council and have them gather the people to the rulers seat.”

Ciaran nodded.

“Mags, I need you with me. It will take all my energy to do what I must do.”

She smiled at Mags, relieved to have the support of her friend.

As the city drew closer and the buildings came into view, an alarm rang out through the city. Trumpets blared and town hall bells rang loudly, pealing out ahead of them toward the palace and council buildings. People stopped in the streets, some crying out in fear, some pointing in wonder at the rare sight of the great leviathan.

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As they swooped lower and Dray Goen prepared to land, Ciaran cried out in alarm. At the top of one of the buildings he happened to be looking at he saw what looked like a large crossbow. Dray Goen had seen it too and a large bolt whistled past them. Then another from another building. Dray Goen managed to dodge several more and his passengers managed to hold on tight, narrowly escaping dislodgment from their grip on his scales.

“Drop us between those buildings,” said Celthair, grasping Sith Gheal and pointing to a spot which looked to be safe from the crossbow bolts.

Dray Goen plunged low and fast, and Dray Goen aimed into the gap between the taller of the buildings.

But as he did so a bolt was missed by his keen eyes, now focussed on the landing spot. His scales were thick where it hit, the bolt went through the scale and plunged in about half its length.

Dray Goen grunted and then roared in pain. Yet despite this, his concern was for his passengers, and he managed to land heavily.

Celthair leaped of Dray Goens back. She was furious at the cities reception of them. At the back of her mind, she thought they may have not seen them, and this was simply a defence of the city against such attacks. But this thought was short-lived as she heard shouts of soldiers and tramping sounds of many feet coming in their direction. Words used such as “them” and “her” in the shouting, expelled any thoughts of a misunderstanding. “Buadach has been busy,” she thought to herself angrily. His lies to her as she learned the elemental powers angered her further and followed by Ciaran and her friends she ran forward.

They kept to the shadows and managed to evade the soldiers for some time.

The loud rushing of Dray Goens wings filled the air and the roar of fire as he blew fire toward them, keeping them back. The soldiers were further distracted by Dray Goen flying vertically into the sky. Black crossbow bolts flew at him from all directions, and he managed to evade them till he was too high for them to have any effect, and he flew off toward the north. His pact with Emain still at the forefront of his actions, he was not allowed to help Celthair fight for her right to the throne. Leviathan were sworn never to have influence over the affairs of the people of the Deep Lands. Their purpose was to protect them from the use of elemental beasts used by dark forces, as had been seen in the last great battle of Sennol.

They continued to evade the searchers for some time, but it was not long before they came face to face with a large contingent of soldiers. They quickly surrounded the four fugitives. Celthair stood defiant, her eyes flashing she walked up to their captain and looked at him in the eyes. She recognised his face, but his name escaped her.

“Why are you pursuing us?” she demanded angrily.

The captains face fell. He had devoted his life to her, but the fear of Buadach’s wrath had caused him to falter. The doubt Buadach had planted in his mind, like many in the city, had been strong.

“My lady,” he said falling to his knees. “Forgive me, we thought you to be gone. I am afraid for you, not all share my faith in you. What do you want me to do? My men follow me, we will obey you.”

“Stand up,” said Celthair, relief in her voice. “I am grateful for men such as you. We must find a way to get to Buadach, we need to drive him out of this city. What is your name?”

“I am Gannicus,” he said, “I ask to be your personal guard, to serve and protect you.”

She looked at Gannicus. “Prove yourself this day and we will talk again of such matters. We have a job to do, this city needs healing and this need to remove Buadach is wasting more time.”

Gannicus nodded rising and awaiting her orders.

She beckoned to Ciaran, Dom and Mags to come over. “We need to think of a way to get to the palace.”

“That’s easy,” said Mags. “We have these soldiers, loyal to Buadach, we are their prisoners.”

“Brilliant,” said Celthair, “Mags, clear headed as usual.”

They were surrounded by the soldiers, Gannicus leading the way. Their hands were loosely tied. Soldiers carried their weapons close by for when they were needed.

As they made their way through the city the shouting stopped as the message was passed on that the fugitives had been caught. Gannicus disappeared for a few moments and reappeared.

As they approached the palace, Gannicus slowed his walk allowing Celthair to get closer behind him.

“We have more on our side. I have close friends who will take our side. They will make sure they and their men join us and guard the gate once we are inside.”

Celthair was impressed at Gannicus’ foresight.

Once inside the palace, they were locked in separate rooms and a guard placed at the door and two on the balcony.

“Well done,” said Buadach to Gannicus. For this you will be rewarded. You have the honour of executing them all if you wish.”

Gannicus bowed and left the room. In his mind it was the execution of Buadach that he wished for.

Buadach watched him leave. Something was not right. He knew this soldier, his desire for promotion made him look eager and hungry. But this was gone. A brooding anger sat within his eyes and Buadach sensed it.

He called in one of his generals and ordered a change of the guard. This would remove Gannicus and his men and all other possible rebels, no longer under his power.

Gannicus groaned when the change of the guard was called and new soldier streamed in. As they arrived at various places in the palace, the replaced soldier had to leave or face punishment.

There was no time to waste. He called his men, and they rushed the foyer of the palace, forcing back the surprised replacement soldiers and the doors were slammed and bolted. The rest of his men and the other captains quickly subdued the soldiers. Gannicus ran to the rooms and released Celthair and her entourage. Then they quickly made their way to the throne room.

Hearing the commotion, Buadach’s personal guard had shut the massive wooden doors. When Celthair arrived, she knocked the hilt of Sith Gheal hard on the door.

“Buadach, you old fool. Did you not know I would come for you. Let me in and surrender and you will only face banishment,” she roared.

It was a long wait until finally after a constant barrage of knocking, the doors were opened slightly by Buadach’s largest warrior a plump half Anakim who wielded a massive hammer as a weapon.

“Only Celthair may enter,” he growled.

Ciaran stepped forward, “That’s ridiculous,” he said. Celthair placed her hand out preventing him from going forward.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I am not afraid.”

Ciaran shook his head, “They will kill you for sure,” he said, his voice shaking with trepidation.

“Buadach will try.” She whispered in Ciaran’s ear. Kissing him tenderly on the cheek. “But I am protected. Trust Riangbra,” she added reassuringly.

The chubby yet fearsome warrior stepped forward and beckoned for the sword Celthair was holding.

Celthair glared at him.

“It stays with me,” she growled.

The soldier remained obstinate and continued to hold out his hand.

Celthair remained resolute.

She grinned at the impatient soldier.

“Look here,” she said, walking toward him, leaning forward as if to share private information with him.

The man leant in and turned his head on the side.

Celthair leaped past him and was through the door, running up the centre of the room toward Buadach.

He grunted and leaped after her.

A row of armour-clad soldiers stood before her; their lances stretched out toward her menacingly.

Buadach lifted his staff and spoke loudly in the language of Sennol. From his staff came the black lightning and it cracked loudly like the crack of lightning before the roar of thunder. Then it hit like thunder. Celthair was struck in her torso, and it threw her backwards and her limp body skidded along the floor, she lay still, falling from her grasp, Sith Gheal skidded across the floor and came to rest against the foot of a soldier.

Buadach laughed. He had caught her unawares; his experience and treachery had defeated her.

“Tie her up,” he commanded, “and bring that sword to me.”