The Sword of Light, page 4
“The sword and the cauldron. They make one hell of a duo of weapons!” he admitted. “Gifts from the ancients or angels, I know not which, but I am grateful. Except that I wish . . .”
“That we weren’t going to need them,” she finished for him.
He nodded grimly. “So. We have the sword and we have the cauldron. But now that we’ve found the cauldron, what are we to do?”
“Warn the others,” she said quietly.
“Right. There is a huge battle coming. A great invasion. The Romans didn’t even invade here! Of course, in some of what was written, the effort did not seem worth it.”
“Because it was too difficult for them to get past the shore,” Deidre murmured proudly. “Nor did they travel to the far Gaelic lands in the north of Briton, they did not attack the Scotia and the Picts. Instead, they decided to build walls against them.”
“But a great tide is coming here. We both feel that is going to happen,” Kylin reminded her.
“And what we must do is warn people, gather a great army to take on whatever is coming.”
“There is one problem with that,” he said.
“And that is?”
He shook his head. “You want it to be a defined ‘we’ and ‘they,’” Kylin argued. “But it is not that simple. Some of the kings here . . . well, you know. Some want greater power. Riches. Land. They are willing to band with a foreign enemy to get it. Conversely, you have many people here who are descendants of those who came from different places throughout the years who are loyal to this land, and only of this land. But who is who in this mix of people? If a dream would explain what is going to happen, it would be quite wonderful!”
“Perhaps a dream can’t tell us what will happen—because that is up to the will and strength of men. And women, of course,” she said.
“And now . . .” Kylin stopped speaking.
It was strange. The world was a physical place. There were trees and grass, and despite the fog he could tell the day was ending. There were dead men lying in the clearing. Darragh still stood at attention, as if he dared not be at ease and chew upon the grass again.
It seemed that the air had taken on something else. As if a fog had fallen, and yet it wasn’t wet or damp.
It seemed to be . . . shimmering. As the sword that Deidre held shimmered, as the cauldron, black as it was, seemed to shimmer.
He felt a presence in the air. Could it be an ancient god or goddess? An angel?
Turn. Seek further.
“Kylin?” Deidre said. “Kylin, what is it? Is someone else coming, someone who might attack?”
He shook his head.
“A minute!” he begged softly.
The fog was deepening, and it wasn’t a usual fog, it was like silver crystals in the air. And he could suddenly see . . .
A vision from a distant time, a man with long, silver hair and a beard to match; he was clad in a strange dark robe and he was standing over a cauldron and from the cauldron, he pulled something long and shimmering.
The ancient being in his vision turned to him, spoke directly to him. “Turn!” he commanded.
He did so, but he saw nothing. Nothing!
And then he did.
At first, he had no idea what it was.
It leaned against a tree, gleaming as if it had its own light from within.
“The spear,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Deidre demanded.
“Right there—the spear!”
“I don’t see—” she began.
But he didn’t hear the rest. He walked to the tree and realized that much of the glowing object was covered by a fall of vines. He moved them and collected the spear, bringing it back to where Deidre stood.
“A sword, a cauldron and a spear,” he murmured, looking at her, completely puzzled.
“The gifts of the Tuatha Dé Danaan,” she said. “I don’t know how you saw that!”
“Silver, shimmering, in the dying light,” he explained. “And, if the stories I heard as a boy are right . . .”
“The people of the goddess Danu,” Deidre said. “They came from four cities that existed to the north of Éire—Falias, Gorias, Murias and Firias—and they were as we are in form, they were kings, queens, craftsmen, artists, poets . . . just superior in intellect, in strength, in their knowledge of the earth. They brought with them four special gifts—the Sword of Light, Dagda’s Cauldron, the Spear of Lugh and the Stone of Fal, each from one of their great cities. They fought great battles, but they knew of the coming of man and the Tuatha Dé Danaan can be found in the bogs, in the great burial mounds. Perhaps they are angels, Kylin. I don’t know. I just know that they come when we need them, that . . . that there is something! And we now have three of their great gifts, the sword, the cauldron and the spear, and all that remains is the stone. And yet . . .”
“What can you do with a stone except stone someone?” he asked dryly. “Then again! When I might have battled fiercely, when two might have come upon me, I never lifted a sword for the cauldron took down one man and Darragh trampled the other.”
“Kylin, we must find the stone,” Deidre said. She winced. “You’re not even really Irish—”
“I am as Irish if not more so than you are!” he told her irritably. “For you and yours were born to this while my father chose it above all else!”
She paused, looking down. “I am sorry. But I can’t help this feeling I have that someone is going to betray the people of this land—”
“Not that they haven’t gone to war against one another upon occasion,” he reminded her.
“Petty battles between minor kings,” Deidre said. “And we both know that something greater is coming. And I am sorry—it is true that you and your father have never proven to be anything but loyal to my father. Still, someone is going to betray the others, join with invaders from across the sea.”
“And it seems obvious that we are to warn people so that they may band together in a greater force than any that might come after us,” he told her.
“We go to Declan McGinn, ard-rí, high king of all Éire, at Tara.”
He nodded slowly.
There were many lesser kings across the land, Deidre’s father being one of them. But there was only one high king.
And while any of the lesser kings might seek greater power, more lands, slaves—a way to seize what others had—it was most unlikely that the high king would band with invaders.
“Well, we’re almost at the castle of the ard-rí now,” he pointed out.
“But the day is growing into night. And I never said that I would be gone any length of time. I must return home. You go on. You have the cauldron and the spear, and you must go on. I will return home—”
“No.”
“I will do as I choose!” Deidre said indignantly.
But he shook his head. “Those men came for you. If I fall to an enemy, I will fall. If you fall to the enemy, you might not be killed, you might be taken as bargaining power against your father and your brother, and what might be done to you . . . no. I will not leave you to return to your home alone. We will return together. Darragh will help us make the journey quickly. Come morning’s light, we will start for Tara. Perhaps your brother will choose to come or perhaps it will be best if he protects the coast. That can be decided when we have spoken with our families.”
“What if this attack comes tonight?” Deidre demanded.
“It will not. Last night’s losses will weigh heavily if the invasion was a forerunner of what is to come. We will have time. And I will not let you travel alone. Not when men were coming, seeking you—and the sword.”
“Fine!” she snapped, turning.
He let her walk away. Then he took the cauldron and the spear and headed to Darragh. With his “gifts” secured to the horse’s saddle, he hiked himself up onto the animal’s back and trotted over to where Deidre walked, dipping low to sweep her up into his arms and place her in front of him on the horse.
“Kylin!” she gasped, reaching back to grab hold of him to balance before him, legs dangling over Darragh’s great shoulders.
“We will move much faster this way,” he said flatly.
And that was all, of course. And yet as they marched on, he felt her slim warmth, breathed in the sweet scent of her hair. He was human, certainly no god. And being human, he might be ready to dump her into a vat of icy water most of the time.
But being human he also felt her warmth, her unique and stunning beauty and strength and . . .
Best not to think or feel at all!
3
HER FATHER WAS angry.
Deidre should have expected as much; she should have told him where she was going. But it had all sounded just too . . . unbelievable.
For once she was thankful Kylin was with her. As soon as they returned to her village they had sought out her father. They stood before Eamon while Kylin explained about the sword, the cauldron and the spear, how whatever they might be, ancient Tuatha Dé Danann or angels, they seemed to be trying everything in their power to help, to give them the strength they were going to need,
Her father called a council. Aidan, of course, was there. Kylin’s father and his advisors were asked to attend, and Sigurd arrived with not just his council, but with his wife, Bridget, and daughters, Maureen and Maeve.
Their village priest, Father Mark, also came, and while Deidre did some of the speaking, Kylin did the most, explaining the strangeness of her sword, their dreams, and the discoveries that day of the cauldron and the spear.
She was afraid that Father Mark would think that they were determined to fall back to their old Druid ways, or that they were seeking something even older, looking to usurp all that had come to the isle.
But Father Mark, an aging man with snow-white hair and beard, listened gravely to all and, as Kylin had suggested, agreed that there were many ways to look at such gifts, and if they had been given to them, then something was coming, and they could be seen as gifts from the angels. In fact, in the elderly priest’s mind, the entire race of the Tuatha Dé Danann might have been one of angels, come first to rid the land of monsters before the coming of man.
The meeting seemed long.
But when it ended, it had been determined that something was happening, that there would, indeed, be an attack, and that it might well be imminent. They needed to spread across the land to warn the various areas and kings, with hopes that they could give a united front.
Legends of the Tuatha Dé Danaan spoke of them retreating into the earth among the fairy folk; since the time of Patrick, as she so well knew, most people thought of the ancients as a way for angels to appear, to help when needed.
And remembering tales from her childhood, Deidre thought there had been a story about the return of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, and that they would restore the gifts they had once given the island people when they might be needed for a great defense of the realm.
It had been a story, just a story.
Or, it had been oral history.
They had to prepare; they had to fight. Kylin, son of Sigurd, might seem to be an unlikely warrior for this mission, but . . . had the Tuatha Dé Danaan chosen him?
She snapped herself back to attention. Their discussion was still going on!
“But we cannot be undefended here. Our people have already suffered enough,” Eamon declared.
“Father, I will lead here, as is right, and—” Aidan began.
Sigurd cut in. “And as is right, my men and I will fight with you, Aidan, as is our sworn promise.”
“Because,” Eamon continued, “as it appears that Kylin and Deidre have been chosen for the greatest part of the mission upon which we must embark, they will choose a small company of warriors to travel with them.”
“Father, first, we should ride alone,” Deidre argued. “Two riders will not appear as any threat. And it’s most important first that we head less than a day’s good ride north.”
“Because as all men are not to be trusted,” Kylin said quietly, “we must start with Declan McGinn, the ard-rí sitting at Tara, for he will not be part of any enemy to come upon the land.”
“Aye, as it must be,” Eamon agreed. “Aidan—” he began, looking to his son.
“Father, I already have men watching the shore for the arrival of ships for here by the sea we are most vulnerable. We are the place where even the Romans came to trade. As we have been taught by those who came before us, we will be ever vigilant, and I will send couriers to the settlements just north and south on the water.”
“And they must take great care,” Kylin said. “For though we fear that there are those here who might band with them, they need the numbers from foreign lands if they wish to create an army large enough to come upon us and sweep throughout Éire.”
“I believe that the attack yesterday was but an advance,” Deidre put in.
“It isn’t something that I wish to believe, and yet it is something that we must fear,” Eamon said sagely. He looked at Sigurd.
Kylin’s father was a man from the northern isles, and he had the look of one: his hair was a fading gold, rich and thick still, and his beard was golden as well, just shaded by a bit of red. He was a tall man, a big man, aging, but Deidre knew, still capable of being a formidable warrior. He was younger by a decade than her own father, and she wanted to believe that he meant his every word, that he would fight by her brother’s side, obeying him as commander of their forces.
But as the meeting ended, she saw that her father and Sigurd were in conversation and that Kylin had gone to speak with his sisters. She knew that he was concerned, and she smiled because she assumed it was his nature to worry about anyone he saw as vulnerable. When she saw that her brother walked up to join that group, she realized that Aidan knew and liked both girls.
“You needn’t fear, Kylin,” Aidan said. “I will protect these two as if they were my own family, I swear by all that is holy.”
“I’m not afraid with you leading the men here,” Kylin assured him. “And of course, I give my solemn word to you that I will protect your sister—”
Deidre had known where he was going with his words, and she couldn’t resist hurrying over to interrupt. “Maeve, Maureen, I promise that I will protect your brother!”
She liked Maeve and Maureen as well. They were all about the same age, Maeve and Maureen being just a year apart and Deidre born just months after Maureen.
As children, they had played together.
The girls laughed before growing serious. “It’s in the very air, isn’t it?” Maureen asked. “And you mustn’t fear that Aidan has been given too much to bear, leading forces and vowing to watch over our safety as well. Deidre, I don’t think that we have your prowess, but neither was our father ever a fool. We have also been taught to wield knives and swords, and though the enemy was beaten back yesterday before falling upon the villages themselves, well, when we must, trust this—we will fight.”
“We have our honor!” Maeve agreed.
“And you will need a horse in the morning. We will want to move very quickly,” Kylin told Deidre.
She smiled at that. “I have a horse.”
“As good a horse as Darragh?” he asked her.
“I do admit that you have quite a mount in Darragh!” she conceded. “But I have my own horse and he moves as quickly as any might desire.”
“I’ve not seen you riding,” he said.
She shrugged. “I felt my mission today best taken on foot.”
“And it might have been better if you had mentioned it to me!” her brother told her sternly.
“Well, we found one another,” Kylin said lightly. “And the spear and the cauldron, just as we were . . . instructed in our dreams,” he added, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t quite grasp what seemed to be happening. “But two men did set out after Deidre. We don’t know where they came from, but they didn’t come from the sea.”
“And they weren’t men that you knew?” Aidan asked, looking from Kylin to Deidre. “Any idea who they were or where they might have come from?” At her annoyed look, he said, “Right, you didn’t know them, but did anything suggest a place, or . . .” He shook his head. “I guess I’m reaching at straws.”
Kylin shook his head, looking at Deidre.
“No. They weren’t from our villages. And in our determination to return here, we couldn’t take the time to try to drag back the bodies to see if anyone did know them, or perhaps know where they had come from,” Deidre said.
“But you said that they spoke?” Aidan asked, though he had heard them explain all that had happened during the meeting. “I realize we’re going over this again, but we have so little else to go on.”
“The one called back to the other. They were after Deidre and her sword,” Kylin repeated from the council.
“But the one man, dying, referred to Kylin as a traitor and son of a traitor,” Deidre reminded them.
“The point here is that they knew Deidre was out, that she had ridden from the village headed somewhere—and they knew you, Kylin,” Aidan said. “And thus, points toward what we fear and expect. An attack on the island, and yesterday they tried an initial invasion here, I believe. Perhaps even a test, an exploration. But as they were soundly beaten, perhaps they will try just south or north of here. More reason that the ard-rí must know what has happened and may happen as soon as possible.”
“We had planned to start by morning’s light,” Kylin said thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should hope that the moon will guide the way.”
He looked at Deidre.
“I will speak with Father,” Deidre murmured, leaving them to make her way through those who lingered.
He was still in conversation with Sigurd and his Irish wife, Bridget, who had joined them. She greeted Deidre gently, with a hug and a kiss upon the cheek. She remained an attractive woman, an older version of her daughters.
“Ah, lass! You must take the gravest care!” Bridget told her. “We’ve heard how valiantly you met the enemy. Few warriors can claim such prowess.”
