The following day Buadach, along with a hundred soldiers, led a procession that the people had not seen for many years. Amerghin himself had done something similar, along with his wife Queen Dagemar. Before he was corrupted by Mac Roth and Dagemar had left him.

The people were in a celebratory mood. Celthair stood atop the carriage in new black armour, the style of the armies of the Black City. The sword Mac Roth was at her side. She stood upright and proud. The flags of Athlethan and the Black City were each side of her and the sense of patriotism of the people grew.

They made their way slowly along the roads that led to the seat of discernment.

Once there, she leaped from the carriage and walked regally up the stairs. Ciaran and Darragh were behind her watching the crowd for any threats. Ciaran’s jealousy overridden by his concern for Celthair’s safety.

There were still some of the people who doubted her and might attempt a coup. Buadach followed her up and stopped short of the platform where Celthair now stood.

Buadach raised his arms as was the way, then dropped them, the people instantly fell silent and only the odd cough or sneeze could be heard.

Buadach spoke loudly.

“People of the Black city, I present to you an heir to the throne of this land. Many years ago, the last king was Amerghin. He failed and Sennol did not allow him to fulfill the prophecy. He promised wealth and prosperity but failed. But he did not fail, for he had a daughter, one destined to marry a king, Queen Laegaire, who should have ruled over us. But she is now queen of Athlethan. It is her blood that will unite us all with the east. It is this woman who stands before you. She is entitled to the throne. She will bring prosperity and health to us all.”

There was silence for a moment. Many struggled with the fact that the east was no longer being called the enemy. But Amerghin’s belief that war with the east would bring that prosperity was not popular. They had lost many families and friends in the last war with the east and now being offered the same without a need for war was good news to them. A cheer arose and became louder and louder.

Once more Buadach raised his arms then lowered them, the cheering receded, and it was silent once more.

“She will now speak.” He announced.

The crowd as one turned toward her.

She took a breath and raised the sword. Speaking as loud as she could. But it was not needed, for they were in an amphitheatre and her voice reverberated.

“People of The Black City, I stand before you, Celthair De Daanan Findabair Emain. Daughter of Tuatha, King of Athlethan and of Queen Laegaire, daughter of Amerghin. You previous king. I alone can wield this sword. Your very own symbol of power and right to the throne.”

As she spoke the last words the pride, she felt in what she had said welled up in her, she held the sword high and let it’s tip fall to the ground where she thrust it at the rock she stood upon. The tip hit the rock, and the ground heaved, with an enormous crack the rock heaved and broke, the ground under the people shook and rumbled, people fell over as the ground rippled outwards. From the rock came raw elemental power, up through the crack along the sword and the purple lightning exploded from the hilt up to the sky bursting the clouds apart with a sound of thunder. Yet Celthair was unaffected by the movement and lifted the sword once more, letting out a loud cry of victory.

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“Too much, but magnificent,” whispered Buadach to himself. In complete and utter awe of what he had witnessed.

Far off to the southeast, the magma pits where Mount Triune once stood, suddenly became active, lava exploded and began to flow outwards over the lip of the caldera.

The people who were watching Ciaran, scattered in terror or fell to their knees crying. Some, like Buadach and Ciaran stood, managing to keep their feet and watched the vision of this young girl before them displaying the power, that only the aged among them had seen Amerghin wield, once before. It awed them and terrified the younger ones.

But it was with training from Mac Roth that Amerghin was able to use this power. A gradual process that made his mind strong enough to withstand the aftereffects.

For Celthair it was as though her head had been pounded against a stone wall several times. She collapsed holding her head in her hands.

Buadach saw it and motioned Ciaran and Darragh to quickly and privately carry her to a lodge, used by royalty when visiting the seat of discernment.

Not many people noticed as they were also recovering from the shock. When they had gathered their wits, Celthair and her entourage were gone.

Later that cycle, as the last sun set, they loaded the sleeping form of Celthair into a wagon and slowly made their way back to the palace that her grandfather had built.

Celthair awoke, her head throbbing like she had drank way too much fermented Aetherclaw juice. As usual Mags was not far away, she had slept with her, holding her hand as Celthair tossed feverishly on the bed.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Mags grinned, “Its Cycle eve and you have slept for three whole day cycles.”

Celthair’s bloodshot eyes widened, red streaks running away from her eyelids and still dark around the edges. She tried to sit up but could not.

“Stay there.” Said Mags, I’ll get you some food and drink. Your strength will return then!”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing you just split a rock and caused an earthquake is all,” said Mags.

“I remember the sword hitting the rock, nothing after that,” she said, her eyebrows moving into an inquisitive position.

Mags smiled, “You have caused quite a stir; the people have unanimously requested that you be made queen. No one is against the idea. Buadach has the preparations already done. You will be crowned when you are fully recovered.”

But it was not meant to be, the plans of Riangbra were different. For something was amiss in The Black City. People were dying. It was an awful death too. Veins under the skin of those who had witnessed the power of Celthair, swelled up and blackened. They went quickly, some survived but many died. The disease spread fast across the city.

It was not long before crowds surrounded the palace, crying out. Some blamed Celthair for exposing them to the elemental powers she displayed. The idea caught on and there was a revolt. The soldiers, now loyal to Celthair, did their best to hold off the people. The heavy gates were closed, and they were shut in from the death and cries coming from all over the black City.

It was given a name, the Elemental Pandemic.

Buadach knew what it was, he had seen it before among novices who were being trained in the use of the elemental power. Some novices died from exposure to it. He groaned angrily. His plans fell away, and he began to look for an escape from this accursed place where his hopes for power had recently risen. He was not seen again for many days.

Soon fires outside the city could be seen burning as people cremated their dead. Each death was paraded past the palace along with loud mourners. They would let Celthair know of their suffering. Of course, the plans for her to be made queen were gone.

Celthair fell into a depressed reverie. She did not eat, only sipped water given to her by Mags her ever present and worried friend. Day after day the cries of the people came to her ears, causing her to feel even more miserable.

She grew weaker and Mags feared she would die. Ciaran took the sword and hid it in the armoury under the palace, locking it away. It had done much damage, and he was not going to let Celthair use it again.