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The Tuatha De Cycle: The Spear of Assal
#12
The Hamlet of Comrac north of the Great City of Gorias
The Isles of Erie
 

 
 
A number of Lecan’s personal guard and Lugh’s own bodyguards leapt out from the Doorway, fanning out – as usual – to take stock of the landing perimeter. Lugh bore it with grace, wishing to be back in Gorias with Lecan. Had there been no business at hand, the two would have likely endured the rest of the night with their cask of wine and Abcan’s bawdy songs on the lute while the servants did their best to soften the oncoming hangover with countless plates of food.

“Look, I’m not saying you were right, but,” Abcan started before Lugh held up a hand.

“Don’t. You can admit it when we know for certain,” Lugh answered with a devilish smirk. They would find Gobain this night and Lugh would woo him with his perfectly picked words and the three of them would be back under the Hill before daybreak. The High Council would sing Lugh’s praises on the morrow when they discovered that one of their long-lost brothers had finally come home to court. Gobain, of course, would then assist Lugh in tracking down Credne and Brigid. Lugh would then, of course, woo them as well and welcome them back to Nuada’s Keep with full honors and glory.

Lugh smiled over his premature victory.

The bodyguards made their way back to Lugh and Abcan, affirming the safety of the surrounding pasture; Lecan’s house guard proceeded into the cluster of homesteads that had made up Comrac. Lugh opened himself to the Light and took it by force, using the raging torrent to enhance his own senses. The dark of night did not seem so harsh and the things that seemed to be blurred off in the distance suddenly leapt into crystal clear view.

By Lugh’s own estimation, the Hamlet of Comrac sounded to be but a humble title – for surely there were enough buildings to call this a village? Although Lecan had not kept proper records of the surrounding settlements, his Spy Master had at least taken stock over the years. They had claimed that Comrac had been founded twenty years prior by three lower-ranking Dagda families that had been gifted in the arts of the Earth. Their talents for seeking metals had led them to this spot. Within a week of investigating the area, the group had located three deposits: two of stone and one of zinc.

Disaster eventually struck the settlement as an earthquake came to cause a cave-in. The three patriarchs and many of their relatives were lost and presumed dead. Efforts to clear two of the mines of rubble and debris proved to be fruitless. A single stone mine was all that had been left to the settlement. The remnants of the three families still practiced their arts within the mine, while outsiders continued to flow into Comrac and began to turn its rolling hills into pastures for flocks of sheep and the bovine.

Abcan had his pipe out and blue smoke rings were billowing up from his tight-lipped grin. Lugh brought out his own pipe and took a drag, not bothering to impress anyone. The bodyguards lead them down the hill and through a gate in the rough wooden fence that had enclosed the pasture they had landed in. Two of the house guard had come rushing back to meet them.

“Your Radiance,” the pair intoned before taking a knee and bringing fist to heart. They rose and the guard on the left spoke up first, “The village is empty. All homes show forced sign of entry. It’s as if someone came along and scooped them all up as they were going about their day. Dinners left abandoned on tables, beds emptied, sewing hoops dropped to the ground.”

Lugh and Abcan faltered in step with each other. Pipes were extinguished and put away. The two Dagda embraced the Light and nodded to the guards. Abcan went off into the night, disappearing from view before Lugh could say otherwise. Instead, he addressed the guard to the left, “At ease, soldier. Thank you for the report, Ser –“

“ó Broin, your Radiance,” he answered quickly.

“Ser ó Broin. Was there anything else out of place or remarkable? You do have a Dagda stationed with you, yes?” Lugh asked in a magnanimous tone.

“We do, your Radiance. Silver and black metal casings – that’s as best as I can describe them – were found in three homes. Don’t know what they’re for, your Radiance, although our Dagda has marked them out as potentially Light-forged,” Ser ó Broin spoke in quick, precise tones.

Listening to the guard only drove home the fact that Lugh needed a proper blacksmith – Kerr’gan be damned. He really had no idea what the man had been talking about outside of the light-forged metals, but then that had been enough to perk his attention. The trail of Gobain seemed to be growing stronger, despite the absence of people in the hamlet.

“Indeed, take me to one of these ‘casings,’ Ser ó Broin,” Lugh commanded in a firm, yet benevolent voice.

 

The homestead they had come to was the only one in the hamlet that had been styled after those of the Great Cities; it was a tri-floored abode beneath an earthen mound. By the guards’ report, this home had taken the most damage out of the rest. Indeed, it was said that the most powerful Dagda of the hamlet lived here. Lugh could believe it just by entering the main landing of the home. The guards had taken him to the basement level where the ‘casings’ had been found. To his own delight, the basement had turned out to be a workshop.

They had found Gobain’s homestead, but they had not found Gobain.

Off on the opposite side of the workshop, a light-touched horn played songs from Lugh’s childhood. He moved into the room and bent down to inspect the black bits of metal upon the ground. The guard went on at length about the Dagda’s discovery and Lugh nodded along with half an ear. The shape of the metal looked almost as if it could be shaped into a ball, if picked up and rolled about. Lugh reached out to pick it up.

Blue light flashed across the room.

Lugh snatched his hand back with a loud cry as every guard turned his attention toward him. He brought his fingers to his mouth before waving them away with his other, uninjured hand. The black metal on the ground sat there taunting him; a thin trail of smoke puffing up from the space he had touched.

“Do be careful, your Radiance,” cried a familiar voice.

Lugh turned his head and plastered on a wicked grin.

The Druidess Tlachtga came striding down the stairs in a sleek white robe, her auburn hair in neat plaits laid across either breast. A crown of hawthorn sat upon the top of her head and an eye of indigo dye was painted across her brow. She wore a solemn expression as she made her way into the chamber.

Lugh twisted his lips in a playful manner and gave her a mock bow.

Tlachtga sighed loudly as Lugh played along. She batted away the attending guard as she made her way over to Lugh and dipped a knee to him in turn. Lugh bent even lower to the ground – forcing her to go lower. She grunted and complied. Lugh could not help but laugh heartily. He straightened and pulled her up into an embrace.

“It has been too long. I had heard you had gone off with Mug Ruith to study under the Olympians!” Lugh announced with a hearty chuckle.

“My father is on a fool’s errand, my King. I can assure you he knows all that they can offer,” Tlachtga spoke in an overly formal voice – one that did not match the expression on her face.

“Stop with that, Tlachtga. Call me by my name. We grew up together. I will not stand for formalities, and I am assured that your father does valuable work.”

Tlachtga relaxed visibly, taking a seat upon one of the benches that had been built into the curved walls. “Thank Danu for that. I can’t stand all this pomp. You know, working for your cousin makes me second guess my decision. The Olympians cannot be worse than High Prince Lecan.”

Lugh laughed harder and slapped his knee before joining his childhood friend on the bench, “There’s the ‘Lach I know. He’s having a bad time at it then?”

“Oh, far from it. We’ve spoken by Doorway. They’ve been teaching him loads. He should be back within the year. You’ll be wanting his instruction, I’m sure,” Tlachtga replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“If they are as good as the rumors say, I shall insist and I shall pay what is appropriate,” Lugh said as his laughter died down.

“You don’t need to do that, Lugh. We are doing just –”

Lugh interrupted Tlachtga, “I shall pay what is appropriate. I cannot do what Nuada did. I cannot go to seek the knowledge of the other realms. Others will have to do that for me, and they will be rewarded for their service, Tlachtga. It would be a stain on my ‘honor’ otherwise.”

Tlachtga held up her hands in defeat, “If my King insists.”

“I said stop that.”

“Yes,” Tlachtga said, “My king,” before breaking into laughter.

Lugh rolled his eyes with a smirk before weaving of fiber of Air to try to pick up the black metal; it proved successful. The circular bits were carried up by invisible hands and brought to rest at eye level, just an arms span from the two of them. It slowly rotated and Tlachtga looked anywhere but. Lugh took note.

The silence stretched out between them before Lugh coughed and Tlachtga finally spoke up as if the silence had only lasted between breaths, “It is an alloy unlike any we have seen from our own smitheries. It appears to be made from chromium, lead, and zinc – there are traces of silver along the joints.”

Lugh nodded again as if he knew what she was talking about.

“Preliminary tests show that the metal is light-touched, but whatever its function remains unreadable. We have no specialist on hand for that. The metal configuration seems to have been a shell of sorts for another, larger piece of equipment – if that is to be believed. Also, we have reason to believe that it was made off Isle,” Tlachtga went on in a lecturing manner.

Lugh nodded for the third time, his gaze glazing over slightly as he stared at the metal bits revolving in the air. Lectures and tutors had rarely gripped his mind. Experience had always been the great teacher – not tomes, nor scrolls, nor lectures.

“I gave birth to a banshee,” Tlachtga said simply.

“And that is what made this metal and kidnapped the villagers?” Lugh asked with raised eyebrows.

“You don’t understand anything I’ve said,” Tlachtga shot back, raising her own eyebrows.

“Not a damn word.”

Tlachtga sighed and made a hand motion towards one of the guards. Lugh followed it curiously before the guard went back up the stairs. Lugh looked back to Tlachtga and asked, “And what was that about?”

Before Tlachtga could open her mouth, Lugh heard the unmistakable sound of a child’s voice.

“Is Father back? Why can’t I take this off?”

The guard quieted the child before they stepped out onto the landing; the guard took a knee for Lugh and all but forced the child to do the same. She was young and clearly had not seen her first moon cycle. A crest of red hair fell down around her shoulders, all but framing a silver metal collar that rested upon her neck. The girl looked up at Lugh with a defiant expression, “Where is my father!? Where is my mother!?”

“Your radiance, may I present to you Áine, daughter of Gobain,” Tlachtga announced in a mock-ceremonial voice.

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RE: The Tuatha De Cycle: The Spear of Assal - by Aiden Finnegan - 04-26-2022, 03:52 AM

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