The Tuatha De Cycle: The Spear of Assal

[Aiden Finnegan]

The testimony of a child could be a very simple and straightforward thing; Lugh had been thankful for that as Áine began to recount her tale between large bites of pie. Gooseberries quickly covered the lower half of her face as the first slice disappeared into her gullet.

According to the little girl, a horde of men burst into their humble home just after she had been tucked into her bed for the night. The men were ‘large, hairy, and wearing funny skirts of pretty colors.’ They had carried large wooden tools that shot metal balls at her and her family; those balls exploded before reaching their targets and ‘silver spiders’ jumped out of the balls. One of those ‘silver spiders’ had fixed itself to her neck and would not let go. Her mother was able to put up enough of a fight for Áine to run out of the house and hide in a nearby hedge, where she was later found by Tlachtga and the guards.

Áine quickly settled into another slice of pie as she finished her story, taking a seat next to Abcan who looked at the girl with a troubled expression. Lugh looked from her to Tlachtga, a question on his lips. The Druidess had seemed to read his mind as she shook her head silently. He shrugged in turn and walked over to Áine.

“Don’t mind me, my dear,” Lugh said soothingly as she looked up at him with an alert expression, “I simply wish to see if I can take the ‘spider’ off of your neck. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

Áine considered this for a moment before nodding and grabbing a third slice of the pie from Abcan’s open palms. Lugh opened himself to the Light and used his enhanced senses to examine the silver collar along the girl’s neck. His sight seemed to zoom in as if under a lens, the details of the metal becoming clear and distinct. Under such scrutiny, the collar no longer appeared to be made of silver; instead, Lugh saw three different shades of color: black, silver, and gray – but mostly silver. He looked to the casings that still hovered in the air and noticed that the same three shades of colors were present in its making – although the black was more prominent.

Lugh was openly commenting on this to Tlachtga as he performed his inspection. She nodded along, “If you check the front of the collar, you will find two raised sections along the edge of the center. I believe that to be the key to opening the thing.”

“Then why have you not freed her?” Lugh asked incredulously, turning his head to stare at the Druidess.

“Well, your Radiance, I only discovered that just as you arrived,” Tlachtga replied in a crisp tone.

“I could have waited another moment, ‘Lach,” Lugh said seriously, “I already told you I don’t expect special treatment from you.”

“With all due respect, I disagree.”

Lugh’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to protest, but Tlachtga held up her right hand and he closed his mouth.

“You cannot treat me with such familiarity – nor anyone else you have personal ties with, my King. We are your subjects. You are above us – whether you like it or not. That is the sacrifice that was demanded when you accepted Nuada’s throne. In turn, I must treat you with respect – as does everyone you have personal ties with – to do less would demean your station and reduce your legitimacy in the eyes of your Court. You are our High King. You are no longer the rambunctious youth being fostered by your Uncle,” Tlachtga finished with a deep exhale, her pale face growing flushed. A few of the guards had stopped to listen and gawk, but two well-timed glares from Tlachtga had straightened their spines and sent them scurrying off to tend to their duties.

Lugh knew that she was correct, of course – still, that did not mean that he had to like it. Oh, he had asked for the crown he now bore, but he had not known what it had meant at the time. It was no secret around the Hill that Nuada had been grooming Lugh to take the throne as his successor. The late King had fathered numerous children, but all thirteen had seemed to have fallen off the earth – some due to assassination, others killed by the Fomorians, and the rest had simply left the Isles never to return.

After Nuada had reclaimed his throne from the Regent Bres, he had focused all of his efforts on solidifying his hold on the Isles and ensuring its strength against outside threats. He never married again, and it was said that he had never taken another woman to his bed. With no Heir Apparent, Nuada had to search amongst his Dagda for an heir – lest the Isles fall once more to the Fomorian hordes.

Lugh had caught his eye immediately if the court gossip was to be believed. But then, how many Dagda had entered into Nuada’s court with the claim that they could do anything better than any Dagda currently living under his roof? Lugh had not disappointed in those early years and because of that he now bore the Crown of Maeve upon his brow.

For better or worse, Lugh was High King of the Isles of Erie and he had duties to attend to and a people to shepherd through the Ages. His back stiffened slightly, and his chin raised a hair. Tlachtga noted the slight change in posture and nodded approvingly. Lugh affected no notice before he swept his eyes across the room, fixing each of his subjects with his gaze. They all seemed to respond to the change, the soldiers taking a knee and even little Áine dipping her head low as she finished the last of the pie. Abcan was all smiles as he bowed to Lugh.

“Right,” Lugh said simply before marching over to Áine. He had a people to protect, and they would not suffer ‘silver spiders’ upon their necks.

Lugh reached out for the two buttons and rested his hand upon the collar. Immediately, he felt a jolt that nearly numbed his arm; for an instant, his calm shifted, and the Light raged through him like the snowstorm a thousandfold. Áine’s short blonde hair flailed as she convulsed at his touch, screaming, and her face going white. The girl flew back from his touch and crashed backward into the ground – Abcan yelling in horror as he tried to catch her.



A cacophony of voices flooded Lugh’s ears as he opened his eyes. It seemed that he too had been thrown back, as he found himself lying on the ground with a dozen soldiers and a worried Abcan standing over him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Lugh quickly said as his vision cleared, “How is Áine?”

“Sure as shite, she is Gobain’s ilk,” Abcan all but laughed, “She was back up on her feet before her back touched the ground.”

“Right,” Lugh sighed, “How long was I out?”

“Long enough for Tlachtga to get that collar off her,” Abcan replied as he looked from Lugh and off past the soldiers, presumably at Áine.

“She was able to touch it?” Lugh asked surprised, shooting back up on to his feet. His head felt light, and his step wobbled, but a guard quickly steadied him.

“She used Air,” Abcan said with an tone of respect, “You might want to exercise such caution in the future.”

Lugh looked past Abcan. Sure enough, the casings were still floating along on Lugh’s own fibers of Air. He stifled the groan. Of course, he had always been careful with objects of the Light – and of course – the one time he had not done so, he had found himself reprimanded.

Abcan held up a wineskin to Lugh, who uncharacteristically waved it away. Tlachtga’s words had struck a nerve. He would remain clear-headed for these people – his subjects – at least until everything had been sorted out. No matter the pounding in his own head, whether from the fall or the lack of wine he could not be sure. The guards parted as he moved past them to find Tlachtga. She sat on the bench, examining the collar with her own two hands. Áine was absent.

“Are your fingers that well moisturized?” Lugh joked as he came to sit next to Tlachtga, “I always assumed them calloused – what with all the herbs you Druids are said to pick.”

Tlachtga flashed him a look as she examined the opened collar. Not a word left her lips.

Lugh remembered himself and went on in a more agreeable tone, “Compliments to your ingenuity, Druidess Tlachtga.”

The Druidess flashed him another look. Too formal.

“Where has Áine gone off to? She is well, I trust?” Lugh asked simply, yet firmly.

“She has been sent along to the Hill. No doubt, Brigid or Credne will have to be found to care for her. The High Council will see to a Ward in the meantime, but then, you should already have known that,” Tlachtga said with pursed lips. She kept her eyes fastened upon the collar, a finger tapping at her full lower lip. Despite her tone, her face seemed to be the picture of serenity. Lugh had often seen that expression on the feminine Dagda of the court.

“Thank you for seeing to that in my absence,” Lugh kept on in the simple, firm tone.

Tlachtga nodded, “It was a pleasure, your Grace. In truth, Áine was mostly agreeable once I removed this thing.”

“Do you know what it is? Were they going to chain her?” Lugh asked more seriously, his own gaze now settling upon the collar. It had flown up from her left hand and began to revolve silently at eye level. Lugh felt a sudden wave of despondency wash over him; the collar revolved silently. He all but shook himself to break his gaze away from the collar. It revolved silently. Tlachtga made a sound with her tongue as he did so; her entire demeanor unaffected by the metal she expertly handled.

“Embrace the Light, your Radiance, lest the aura of this thing crush you,” Tlachtga offered him in a lecturing manner.

Lugh quietly did so before looking back to the collar. True to her word, the strange feelings of despair did not seem to take hold as he now looked at the thing. “How strange,” Lugh breathed as the realization settled upon his mind.

“Indeed, your Grace. I’ve handled many a Light-touched object, but this is the first to imprint such a,” Tlachtga paused as she searched for the words, “Negative feeling. Even the weapons of war that I have examined have never given off such… darkness.”

“But what is it for?” Lugh asked more seriously.

“I cannot tell you, your Grace. I haven’t that talent. Reading the energies of a thing is quite different than reading the intent. You’ll want to have someone back at the Hill examine this if you wish to know,” Tlachtga said as she finally turned to look at Lugh. Her eyes were set and determined. It had almost felt as if she was trying to urge him to do so. Of course, she would – this collar and abduction presented a puzzle to them both. Lugh was simply more interested in Gobain’s whereabouts. What good was the collar if it did not point them in his direction?

To Lugh, the collar was more of a passing fancy. He could make Light-touched objects, yet he could not read what the unknown did. If he understood this collar’s purpose, he could replicate it through his own intuition and the Light. The fascination was just that, however, a passing fancy. Lugh could examine the collar at a later date. For now, he had to find the son of Brigid – and one thing Áine had said struck a chord in Lugh’s mind.

“Take it to court in my stead, Tlachtga, I shall send word to Lecan that you are acting in my interests. Take as much time as you need to analyze the thing,” Lugh spoke seriously as he held her gaze with an intense expression. She brightened at this – of course – fighting the urge to rise then and there to leave the Gorias territory for the Hill of Tara.

“It would give me pleasure to do so, your Grace. Are you not returning to the Keep then?” Tlachtga asked with a genuine expression of curiosity.

"No. There is one more place I wish to visit before I return home," Lugh said before his gaze shifted over to Abcan's smirking face. Áine had mentioned ‘funny skirts of pretty colors’ when she had spoken of the invaders, and there had only been one group of skirt-wearing invaders that Lugh had known about: the Fomorians.