04-12-2022, 02:54 AM
Lugh turned from the door and saw Abcan drinking straight from the bottle of mead that had been opened for Kerr’gan’s arrival. Lugh embraced the Light and used fibers of Air to take the bottle away from the bard. He called out angrily to Lugh, whom only shook his head and pulled out the silken bag of ogma cores.
“I wasn’t lying to Master Kerr’gan. We are seeing what is in these cores before we devote the rest of our night to debauchery,” Lugh said firmly as he used the fibers to place the bottle on top of the mantle closest to him. Abcan glared at Lugh as if to say, ‘putting the bottle up high is cruel, but it will not stop me.’ Lugh chuckled and rejoined the man near the fireplace and easy chairs.
Still embracing the Light, Lugh wove out fibers of Air, Spirit, and Fire into a rigid pattern of straight lines and angles – very much unlike the many other weavings he had learned of swirls and loops. The weaving burned white hot in the air and Lugh took one of the ogma cores from the pouch and tossed it into the center of the pattern. The quartz core seemed to catch itself in an invisible net as it stopped mid toss. The core quivered and suddenly dragged itself to the topmost point of the weaving of Light.
A genderless voice poured forth from the core and spoke from nowhere and everywhere, “Brigid Aigit genealogy. Daughter of Nechtan and Boann. Sister to Cermait, Aengus, Aed, and Bodb Derg. Widow to Regent Bres. Mother to Gobain, Credne, Luchta, and Ruadan. Granddaughter of –“
Lugh altered his weaving and the genealogy core went mute. He took another from the bag and repeated the motion: tossing it into the weaving and waiting to see which point the core was drawn to. The same genderless voice sounded for the second core, “Brigid Aigit known residences. Springview farmstead in the third Great City of Murias, place of birth. Nuada’s Keep in the Hill of Tara, departed after Lugh’s coronation. Conand’s Tower, abandoned Fomorian Keep in Tory, left after Nuada’s second coronation – suspected secret dwelling. Temple of Brigid in the second Great City of Findias, currently occupied. Coordinates of Springview –“
Lugh altered the weaving again and muted the core before moving on to the next. They had gone through five more cores before the bag emptied and Lugh found himself reaching for the bottle he had forbade Abcan.
“Really? You’re not gonna pour me one too after you snatched it from my hands?” Abcan asked as he crossed his arms and started to tap his foot. Lugh handed over the filled horn with a rolling of his eyes.
“I was pouring that for you, smart arse,” Lugh said before grabbing the second drinking horn. “Well, I apologize. That was an utter waste of time. I don’t know what I was expecting from Uscias. We should have told Kerr’gan to stay. At least we would’ve had a laugh.”
Abcan downed the horn and held it out for a refill before Lugh had even taken a swill of his own. Regardless, he poured another for his friend. Abcan went right on as he waited for the mead to be deposited into his vessel, “Oh? You must not have been paying attention then. I heard plenty that we might act upon.”
Abcan downed the second serving in a single swallow and Lugh found himself pouring the bard a third.
“The only bit I heard that we might follow up on is her past residence. I’d bet a platinum mark that she’s back at the old family farm. I’ve heard of Boann. She solved the Great Famine and refused to leave her farm on the excuse that her magic was tied to the land,” Lugh said proudly before downing his own horn of mead.
“Old Cethen didn’t teach you much if you believe that,” Abcan laughed as he took out his smoking pipe. The thing was packed and lit within seconds and blue smoke rings started to fill the atmosphere. The bard took a pull from his horn as he settled back into an easy chair, “The whole family’s claim to fame is that damn Cauldron. The farm was just an excuse. Boann hated politics almost as much as she hated Nuada – although many whispered that the two were lovers.”
Lugh was pouring his next horn before he stopped and slowly turned his head towards the bard. He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “So, if you know so much, what was the point in listening to the cores?”
“To see if they knew anything I didn’t,” Abcan answered simply.
Lugh rolled his eyes, shook his head, finished pouring his horn, and downed it unceremoniously. He sighed before asking, “Did you learn anything we might use?”
“Nope,” Abcan again went on in an infuriatingly simple manner.
“Bullshit. It made you think at least. What did you think of?”
“Over the last week, I’ve grown increasingly certain that Kerr’gan and Esras’ Heartstone source is one of Brigid’s sons,” Abcan said before downing his horn and holding it out to Lugh for another pour.
“Yes, I’ve realized that with the little nuggets you’ve fed me,” Lugh answered impatiently as he did as he was asked.
“Second, the other son must be hiding on the Isle of Tory,” Abcan said as he downed his horn once more and repeated the sign for a refill. Lugh shook the empty bottle comically and gestured for the bard to grab one that was unopened. Abcan did as he was told before starting to pour for Lugh and himself.
“Ab, I am beginning to have my doubts of Kerr’gan. Do you really think one of Brigid’s sons made the spearhead?” Lugh asked seriously as he took a pull from his horn. At that moment, a servant entered with a silver worked tray. The servant set the tray down upon the low table between Lugh and Abcan before removing its covering. A flash of steam erupted from the tray as the covering came away. Minced beef pies, smashed potatoes, shepherds’ bread, and hot links sparkled upon a dozen miniature plates as the steam cleared. The smells of fine cuisine wafted up to the pair, making their mouths water.
Abcan finished his horn and immediately grabbed one of the pies, devouring it in two bites before going on, “Credne made your spearhead, mark my words – from start to finish. Kerr’gan is a hack. Gobain used the Light in his metalsmithing – yes – but his results were different. He never made Heartstone. He had a name for what he made: Light-forged. He insisted it was different from the Light-touched you so love to go on about.”
“How so? Sounds like a different way of saying the same thing to me,” Lugh pronounced before popping a hotlink into his mouth.
“Heartstone is a material that is transformed by the Light into something new. Light-forged items have the Light built-in – so to speak – they aren’t transformed into something new – they are something new,” Abcan said as he drove a pointed finger into Lugh’s chest.
Lugh all but coughed at the poke and said, “I still don’t see what the difference is!”
“Heartstone is a material made to be magic and Light-forged is a material that is made from magic! Have you not heard of the Hammer of the Gods? Have you not heard of the legend of the Sword of Light!? They are all Light-forged: a metal only made possible by the gods of the world!? Ha!” Abcan all but yelled before devouring a second pie. He descended into an uncontrollable bout of laughter as he tried to drunkenly take the spearhead that was stowed away in Lugh's leather scrip.
Lugh narrowed his eyes and glared at Abcan. He murmured the words, “I think we’re drinking too quickly. Eat another pie, man! We will talk of this on the morrow!”
And then the world went black.
“I wasn’t lying to Master Kerr’gan. We are seeing what is in these cores before we devote the rest of our night to debauchery,” Lugh said firmly as he used the fibers to place the bottle on top of the mantle closest to him. Abcan glared at Lugh as if to say, ‘putting the bottle up high is cruel, but it will not stop me.’ Lugh chuckled and rejoined the man near the fireplace and easy chairs.
Still embracing the Light, Lugh wove out fibers of Air, Spirit, and Fire into a rigid pattern of straight lines and angles – very much unlike the many other weavings he had learned of swirls and loops. The weaving burned white hot in the air and Lugh took one of the ogma cores from the pouch and tossed it into the center of the pattern. The quartz core seemed to catch itself in an invisible net as it stopped mid toss. The core quivered and suddenly dragged itself to the topmost point of the weaving of Light.
A genderless voice poured forth from the core and spoke from nowhere and everywhere, “Brigid Aigit genealogy. Daughter of Nechtan and Boann. Sister to Cermait, Aengus, Aed, and Bodb Derg. Widow to Regent Bres. Mother to Gobain, Credne, Luchta, and Ruadan. Granddaughter of –“
Lugh altered his weaving and the genealogy core went mute. He took another from the bag and repeated the motion: tossing it into the weaving and waiting to see which point the core was drawn to. The same genderless voice sounded for the second core, “Brigid Aigit known residences. Springview farmstead in the third Great City of Murias, place of birth. Nuada’s Keep in the Hill of Tara, departed after Lugh’s coronation. Conand’s Tower, abandoned Fomorian Keep in Tory, left after Nuada’s second coronation – suspected secret dwelling. Temple of Brigid in the second Great City of Findias, currently occupied. Coordinates of Springview –“
Lugh altered the weaving again and muted the core before moving on to the next. They had gone through five more cores before the bag emptied and Lugh found himself reaching for the bottle he had forbade Abcan.
“Really? You’re not gonna pour me one too after you snatched it from my hands?” Abcan asked as he crossed his arms and started to tap his foot. Lugh handed over the filled horn with a rolling of his eyes.
“I was pouring that for you, smart arse,” Lugh said before grabbing the second drinking horn. “Well, I apologize. That was an utter waste of time. I don’t know what I was expecting from Uscias. We should have told Kerr’gan to stay. At least we would’ve had a laugh.”
Abcan downed the horn and held it out for a refill before Lugh had even taken a swill of his own. Regardless, he poured another for his friend. Abcan went right on as he waited for the mead to be deposited into his vessel, “Oh? You must not have been paying attention then. I heard plenty that we might act upon.”
Abcan downed the second serving in a single swallow and Lugh found himself pouring the bard a third.
“The only bit I heard that we might follow up on is her past residence. I’d bet a platinum mark that she’s back at the old family farm. I’ve heard of Boann. She solved the Great Famine and refused to leave her farm on the excuse that her magic was tied to the land,” Lugh said proudly before downing his own horn of mead.
“Old Cethen didn’t teach you much if you believe that,” Abcan laughed as he took out his smoking pipe. The thing was packed and lit within seconds and blue smoke rings started to fill the atmosphere. The bard took a pull from his horn as he settled back into an easy chair, “The whole family’s claim to fame is that damn Cauldron. The farm was just an excuse. Boann hated politics almost as much as she hated Nuada – although many whispered that the two were lovers.”
Lugh was pouring his next horn before he stopped and slowly turned his head towards the bard. He cocked an eyebrow and asked, “So, if you know so much, what was the point in listening to the cores?”
“To see if they knew anything I didn’t,” Abcan answered simply.
Lugh rolled his eyes, shook his head, finished pouring his horn, and downed it unceremoniously. He sighed before asking, “Did you learn anything we might use?”
“Nope,” Abcan again went on in an infuriatingly simple manner.
“Bullshit. It made you think at least. What did you think of?”
“Over the last week, I’ve grown increasingly certain that Kerr’gan and Esras’ Heartstone source is one of Brigid’s sons,” Abcan said before downing his horn and holding it out to Lugh for another pour.
“Yes, I’ve realized that with the little nuggets you’ve fed me,” Lugh answered impatiently as he did as he was asked.
“Second, the other son must be hiding on the Isle of Tory,” Abcan said as he downed his horn once more and repeated the sign for a refill. Lugh shook the empty bottle comically and gestured for the bard to grab one that was unopened. Abcan did as he was told before starting to pour for Lugh and himself.
“Ab, I am beginning to have my doubts of Kerr’gan. Do you really think one of Brigid’s sons made the spearhead?” Lugh asked seriously as he took a pull from his horn. At that moment, a servant entered with a silver worked tray. The servant set the tray down upon the low table between Lugh and Abcan before removing its covering. A flash of steam erupted from the tray as the covering came away. Minced beef pies, smashed potatoes, shepherds’ bread, and hot links sparkled upon a dozen miniature plates as the steam cleared. The smells of fine cuisine wafted up to the pair, making their mouths water.
Abcan finished his horn and immediately grabbed one of the pies, devouring it in two bites before going on, “Credne made your spearhead, mark my words – from start to finish. Kerr’gan is a hack. Gobain used the Light in his metalsmithing – yes – but his results were different. He never made Heartstone. He had a name for what he made: Light-forged. He insisted it was different from the Light-touched you so love to go on about.”
“How so? Sounds like a different way of saying the same thing to me,” Lugh pronounced before popping a hotlink into his mouth.
“Heartstone is a material that is transformed by the Light into something new. Light-forged items have the Light built-in – so to speak – they aren’t transformed into something new – they are something new,” Abcan said as he drove a pointed finger into Lugh’s chest.
Lugh all but coughed at the poke and said, “I still don’t see what the difference is!”
“Heartstone is a material made to be magic and Light-forged is a material that is made from magic! Have you not heard of the Hammer of the Gods? Have you not heard of the legend of the Sword of Light!? They are all Light-forged: a metal only made possible by the gods of the world!? Ha!” Abcan all but yelled before devouring a second pie. He descended into an uncontrollable bout of laughter as he tried to drunkenly take the spearhead that was stowed away in Lugh's leather scrip.
Lugh narrowed his eyes and glared at Abcan. He murmured the words, “I think we’re drinking too quickly. Eat another pie, man! We will talk of this on the morrow!”
And then the world went black.
Russian Dolls and Broken Gods, a new Fantasy novel by best-selling author, Aiden Finnegan, out this December! Preorder online and instore today!