They left the city as the first sun reached its zenith and by evening they were out of sight of the Black City. They made camp and Celthair sat in front of the fire. “It’s time,” she said to Ciaran, “pass me the sword.”

Reluctantly Ciaran passed the sword, and its scabbard wrapped in a bundle of cloth into Celthair’s hands.

She felt its weight and stared at the bundle.

“How this has changed our fate,” said Celthair, “I must learn to control its power. I will never use its power, but I need to learn how to prevent it from corrupting me.”

She used the time to recall her lessons in Riangbra, to calm her mind and feel herself in the moment, focussed and asking Riangbra for strength.

She knew elemental power belonged to Riangbra, it had created the world and so owned the elemental power, the unbridled force of Riangbra that was not part of it. As she meditated, she allowed the thoughts of her lessons to flow. Then it came, the lessons she had learned from old Cathabad. To not be overcome by elemental power you must be one with Riangbra. The control Riangbra gives you, will strengthen your spirit against its corrupting influence. Riangbra and elemental power can be one. We are of the earth and only Riangbra can bring us to a higher plane, capable of control.

Alone Elemental corrupts and brings death, but along with Riangbra it brings life.

“Oh Daddy,” she thought, “your lessons were not a waste of time after all.”

Celthair unwrapped the cloth and threw it aside. She felt the heat and the throbbing power in her hands through the scabbard.

She grasped the sword and held it as if ready to draw it from the scabbard. But she did not. She continued to breathe and listen to her breathing. She closed her eyes and imagined Riangbra, its calming influence. She imagined the world she stood on and felt it beneath her feet, she allowed her mind to rise to the stars above, to the brightest star. The feeling of the sword went away, and she dropped it, clattering to the ground, which made her jump awake.

Ciaran looked at her. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You looked far away.”

“Oh, just meditating”, she said. Picking up the sword again. Nothing happened. It felt like a sword.

Then a flash of old memories on the seat of discernment came back, not controlled thought, but the feeling of power and pride, the energy she felt fill her body, taking away pain. The sword thrummed and she shock slammed into her mind as the power flooded up her arm. She held on, determined to reverse the thought and its affect. Slowly it calmed down, till once more it was just a sword. Her mind calm again but her body aching worse than before.

“I understand it now,” she said tiredly to Ciaran and Mags.

She wrapped it again and placed it alongside her body, then sleepily and silently they all watched the fire till Celthair eventually fell asleep. Ciaran carried her to her bed he had made and covered her with a warm fleecy rug against the cold night air. He lay alongside her, and she groaned and turned into his arms, her face on his chest and they all slept. Their horses standing close to the fire for warmth. Mags quietly sang a sad lullaby her mother once crooned to her when she was a child. A song of pain, loss, retribution and forgiveness. Celthair half awoke to the sound, she murmured something and slept once more.

The next morning there was a frost on the ground, and they all emerged from under the thick blankets to an early dawn. A chittering sound had awoken them. The warm rocks around the smouldering fire had drawn some small rodents. They sat on the rocks, eating some discarded fruit from the meal they had eaten before sleeping. They were Rock Cavy, about knee high and quite intelligent.

Celthair smiled and slowly rose, she approached them, and they looked at her with curiosity. She placed some wood on the remaining hot coals, and they scattered, twittering angrily. The smoke began to curl up into the cold air and before long a warm fire was taking the chill out of the air.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“So where are we going?” asked Mags. It was a legitimate question.

Celthair had decided that to go north would be the best thing to do. She remembered as a child meeting the Anakim giants, amazing healers, able to almost prevent death, even when it was at the door. She also wanted to find Dray Goen the Leviathan. She wanted to find out how to destroy the swords power. If it could be done and maybe even a reversal of the negative effects of the Elemental power that had bought so much destruction to the people of the Black City.

“We will go to Imchad, in Emain Macha, to ask the giants to help find a cure for the plague I bought upon the people,” said Celthair.

Mags looked fearful. She had seen a giant once when she was very young, and she had received nightmares for a while after.

Celthair noticed and put her arm around her friend.

“They are kind and gentle, do not worry, it is a time of peace, and they are only scary when they are at war. You will see!”

Once they had broken their fast, they packed up the horses and prepared to leave. Celthair picked up the sword and strapped it around her waist, her hand rested on the hilt, and she was relieved it did nothing to her. It seemed to react to her extreme negative emotion, and right now she felt at peace. She felt happy and purposeful. Her friend alongside her and Ciaran holding her hand as their horses trotted alongside each other’s, glancing at her adoringly every few minutes.

Celthair thought back to the way she had treated Ciaran and felt shame.

It came to the missile of the day cycle and the two suns were approaching the middle of the cycle, they would stop soon and eat. They had watched the landscape begin to grow rocky and vegetation was thinning. There was a row of thick woodland that they began to pass.

Suddenly there was a cry and shouting. Out of the trees came some people on horses, their clothes dark with flashes of red capes or headcloths. They surrounded the party and Mags horse reared, whinnying in fright.

“A Tulpha gang,” said Celthair, instinctively drawing the sword, Mac Roth. She felt no fear as they closed ranks menacingly. Unknowingly a veil came over her eyes and she remembered little of what happened. Ciaran recounted it for her after it was over.

Celthair felt like she had just woken up, but she was not in a bed but in her horse. Mac roth crackled and hummed slightly in her hand.

Before her, lying scattered around, were three horsemen, groaning and writhing in pain. There were two men lying still, dead.

Ciaran came over to her and grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, trying to clear her head. Mags horse had bolted, and she was returning after bringing it back under control. She looked at the dead and wounded attackers.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where are the rest of them?”

Ciaran placed his own sword back in its scabbard and looked at Celthair. She looked back at him, her eyes searching for answers in his look.

“You defended us and beat them off, by yourself!” he told Celthair.

You were like a warrior; I have never seen anything like it.

Celthair felt sick and leaned over the side of her horse and vomited. She had the headache again, not as bad as the first time, but enough for waves of nausea to sweep across her stomach.

She felt strong but her stomach was not. Neither was her head.

“The sword again,” she groaned to Ciaran, “It helped us, I used the power again, it made me forget. It used me, it’s like it wants me to do it’s bidding. I need to learn to control this thing.”

She slid the sword back into the scabbard and got down off her horse. Leaning over, her hands on her knees. When she had finished, she stood up. “I feel better now,” she said. “It’s wearing off. If I must fight again, I will need to concentrate. Tomorrow I will spar with you, Ciaran, I will try to control it.”

Ciaran nodded. He poured some water into a mug and passed it to her.

“There were a lot of them, and the rest fled, they looked afraid. Especially when your eyes became dark again.”

“Did I use elemental power again?” Celthair asked. “Did you see any lighting, hear anything?

“Nothing.” Replied Ciaran, “You just fought like a warrior of old, absolutely no fear. I thought it was your father I was watching; I have seen him fight in training. You were amazing!”

“I don’t feel it,” Celthair said getting back on her horse.

She looked down on the wounded gang members, sitting still now, helping each other wrap and patch their wounds. One soldier had lost a hand and held the stump, now wrapped, in her other hand. She looked up at Celthair, pain in her eyes, and some fear.

“We will not kill you,” said Celthair, “your gang will come back for you, do not follow us,” said Celthair to her. “I will return, and I suggest you leave this sort of life, because I, Celthair when I am queen, will end it. I will not allow others to bring misery on the innocent.” The woman nodded eagerly, her eyes wide with amazement at the grace and fury of Celthair, grateful for a second chance at life.

They left riding for a few more leagues up into the mountains of Emain Macha till they reached the snow line. Here they set up camp for the night.