05-21-2022, 04:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-21-2022, 05:04 AM by Aiden Finnegan.)
“If you think I am addressing you by anything other than your name, then you’ve got another thing coming, my friend,” Abcan said between clenched teeth, his pipe dangling precariously. After leaving Lecan’s territory, they had ended up on a small ferry; its hull painted bronze and its sails made from some Light touched fabric that reminded Lugh of tin. Abcan was sailing the thing, much to Lugh’s surprise. The boat had apparently belonged to Abcan’s grandfather, a fisherman that had lived in Gorias after leaving the Dwarven kingdom that lay beneath the Isles of Erie.
“The Morrigan take your soul if you think to do otherwise, my friend,” Lugh shot back with a smile. Tlachtga wasn’t wrong. Lugh had to be seen as High King, even by those that he had held close. For better or worse, he had to worry about the Court’s approval – that was not to mention the High Council. Abcan was now the Court Bard, however, and the rules could be bent slightly for one that would bring joy and laughter to the Dagda.
“You sure about leaving the guards behind? I know I complain about them, but we don’t know what we’re walking in to here,” Abcan went on, blue smoke wafting up from the bowl of his pipe on the salty air.
“We would have needed a barge if I were to take them. It’s already a risk bringing this vessel in. You just said it. We don’t know what we’re walking in to,” Lugh replied as he looked off into the dark distance. Lecan had urged them to hold until morning – it would not do to sail into the darkness of night. Lugh had insisted, however; if they were to go in to rescue Gobain, stealth would be needed. It would be far easier to use the Light to transfigure Abcan and himself into poor fishermen; they would be hard-pressed to explain away an entire legion of old fishermen, should the Fomorians stop their ship. “Just get us as close to the shore as you can.”
The Isle of Tory lay due east from Gorias and its coastline. The small island had once served as a base to Regent Bres and his hordes, but Nuada had seen it all but ground to dust. The island had long since been abandoned – although the occasional reports of brigands and bandits inhabiting the island seemed to crop up every few years.
Most Dagda at Court had assumed that Nuada had not actually destroyed Bres’ old fort; why else would so many criminals take up residence on the island? Had any of those destitute men actually gathered a respectable force, the Dagda would have descended upon them with the full might of the Hill and any architectural remains would have been utterly obliterated. That never came to pass. Any criminals from the island were slain the first time they tried to raid any of the Great Cities. Perhaps that had been Lecan’s reasoning for not alerting Lugh to the incursions along the coast – it was all business as usual. The problem Lugh had was the fact that it was now Fomorians raiding and not disgruntled criminals from the Isles of Erie.
“Well, that’s as good a sign as any,” Abcan announced.
Lugh looked back to his friend and asked, “What are you referring to?”
“Embrace the Light. The island is within sight and I cannot see a single light. If the Fomorians have claimed Tory again, they have not spread so far as the shore. I see no other crafts on the waters, either,” Abcan said as he looked past Lugh and into the darkness. Lugh did as he was told and true to Abcan’s word, Lugh only saw dark waves and a long, black coastline off in the distance.
“Thank the Light for that. Bring us in, Ab. I’ll freeze some of the water so we can leave the boat and walk the rest of the way,” Lugh replied in that firm tone he had used with Tlachtga.
Abcan said nothing and did as he was told.
It had not taken more than an hour for Lugh and Abcan to make their way through overgrown brush and weeds to find their way through the small island. Flickering lights shimmered off in the distance as they came to the edge of a copse. Lugh had held on to the Light since freezing their small boat into place, making it easier for him to see into the distance. The lights in question seemed to flicker from broken apertures in a tall, slender tower that sat at the edge of a cliff. Shadows regularly passed over the lights, signaling to Lugh that there were indeed men wandering about the ruins that lay before them.
“Call me crazy, but I really did believe King Nuada when he told us that Bres’ seat of power had been destroyed,” Abcan murmured quietly. His pipe had disappeared long before they had come to the shore. The dwarf now held a crossbow in his hands, loaded and ready for any unfortunates that would dare stray upon their path. Lugh had often chastised Abcan for the reliance on weapons, but the taunts had died away when Abcan taught Lugh what a ‘Shield’ was. Since that day, Lugh had often insisted on carrying his own weapons. It had been a spear until he had assumed the throne – since then it had been hidden knives up sleeves and down boots.
“Aren’t you the same man that has insisted that I add more ‘embellishments’ to my stories?” Lugh asked, his lips twisting up into a smile.
Abcan was silent for a moment before replying with a tone of admiration, “Well that was just silly of me, wasn’t it?”
“You should know better. You’re the ‘master,’” Lugh continued to jibe at his friend.
“Ah, but then it appears that the teacher may have become the pupil,” Abcan laughed under his breath.
“You give me too much credit, man. I’m just trying to avoid what’s to come next,” Lugh went on, his tone growing more serious.
“And what would that inevitability be?” Abcan asked, turning away from the ruins and looking intently at Lugh.
“The inevitable slaughter. I’m sure we can sneak in – what with your own talents – but getting out will be tricky. I’d rather not waste the time learning the space so we can Doorway right back to the Hill,” Lugh said with a firm upper lip, his eyes fixed upon the horizon.
“Ah,” Abcan answered as his shoulders slumped slightly.
“But then, we can just Coast back. I can summon the Barge like before. I just hate that Void that we pass through,” Lugh went on babbling as his gaze fixated upon an opening at the base of the tower ruins.
“You know, that’s a good idea. Let’s go with that,” Abcan said quickly, snapping Lugh’s attention back in line. “Let me handle the misdirection and the subterfuge – you be ready for trouble.”
Lugh had regretted their decision as soon as they had come within the bounds of the torchlight of the tower ruins. He had counted no less than thirty men roaming about the half-exposed shell of a keep. Only two had stood guard at the mouth of the ruins, the rest of the silhouettes passing behind the many openings that dotted the tall walls. The plan had been simple enough: pose as two old fishermen that had washed ashore and beg shelter for the night.
Abcan had seemingly changed the plans on a whim, for as they approached the guards, Abcan suddenly clasped Lugh’s hand and disappeared from view. After a quick, hushed panic on Lugh’s part, Abcan had told him that they were both rendered invisible by his own weavings of the Light. Indeed, Abcan could not see Lugh, just as Lugh could not see Abcan – thus the need to hold hands through whatever invisible cocoon that now encased them. The bard lead Lugh up several flights of stairs and past four stations of guards before they had come upon a large oaken door with an enormous iron lock.
“You were always better with Earth,” Abcan whispered to Lugh, “Why not have a go at picking it?”
“Well, Uncle Cethen always said there’s a first time for everything,” Lugh joked as he embraced the Light and pulled out Fibers of Earth to feel out the iron lock.
Abcan groaned.
“You sure that he’s behind this door? How do we know its not the soldiers quarters?” Lugh asked as he starred intently at the lock.
“Why would they lock their own troops in? This is the only door we’ve seen with this kind of lock and it’s the highest floor we can reach in the tower. Why wouldn’t Gobain be in here?” Abcan whispered back furiously as he waited for Lugh to pick the lock. It would only take one Fomorian God or Goddess to find them.
Click.
True to Abcan’s intuition, Lugh had found the latch to the lock – not coincidentally after Abcan had grown quiet. They both jumped a little as the door swung open on its own accord.
“The Morrigan take your soul if you think to do otherwise, my friend,” Lugh shot back with a smile. Tlachtga wasn’t wrong. Lugh had to be seen as High King, even by those that he had held close. For better or worse, he had to worry about the Court’s approval – that was not to mention the High Council. Abcan was now the Court Bard, however, and the rules could be bent slightly for one that would bring joy and laughter to the Dagda.
“You sure about leaving the guards behind? I know I complain about them, but we don’t know what we’re walking in to here,” Abcan went on, blue smoke wafting up from the bowl of his pipe on the salty air.
“We would have needed a barge if I were to take them. It’s already a risk bringing this vessel in. You just said it. We don’t know what we’re walking in to,” Lugh replied as he looked off into the dark distance. Lecan had urged them to hold until morning – it would not do to sail into the darkness of night. Lugh had insisted, however; if they were to go in to rescue Gobain, stealth would be needed. It would be far easier to use the Light to transfigure Abcan and himself into poor fishermen; they would be hard-pressed to explain away an entire legion of old fishermen, should the Fomorians stop their ship. “Just get us as close to the shore as you can.”
The Isle of Tory lay due east from Gorias and its coastline. The small island had once served as a base to Regent Bres and his hordes, but Nuada had seen it all but ground to dust. The island had long since been abandoned – although the occasional reports of brigands and bandits inhabiting the island seemed to crop up every few years.
Most Dagda at Court had assumed that Nuada had not actually destroyed Bres’ old fort; why else would so many criminals take up residence on the island? Had any of those destitute men actually gathered a respectable force, the Dagda would have descended upon them with the full might of the Hill and any architectural remains would have been utterly obliterated. That never came to pass. Any criminals from the island were slain the first time they tried to raid any of the Great Cities. Perhaps that had been Lecan’s reasoning for not alerting Lugh to the incursions along the coast – it was all business as usual. The problem Lugh had was the fact that it was now Fomorians raiding and not disgruntled criminals from the Isles of Erie.
“Well, that’s as good a sign as any,” Abcan announced.
Lugh looked back to his friend and asked, “What are you referring to?”
“Embrace the Light. The island is within sight and I cannot see a single light. If the Fomorians have claimed Tory again, they have not spread so far as the shore. I see no other crafts on the waters, either,” Abcan said as he looked past Lugh and into the darkness. Lugh did as he was told and true to Abcan’s word, Lugh only saw dark waves and a long, black coastline off in the distance.
“Thank the Light for that. Bring us in, Ab. I’ll freeze some of the water so we can leave the boat and walk the rest of the way,” Lugh replied in that firm tone he had used with Tlachtga.
Abcan said nothing and did as he was told.
It had not taken more than an hour for Lugh and Abcan to make their way through overgrown brush and weeds to find their way through the small island. Flickering lights shimmered off in the distance as they came to the edge of a copse. Lugh had held on to the Light since freezing their small boat into place, making it easier for him to see into the distance. The lights in question seemed to flicker from broken apertures in a tall, slender tower that sat at the edge of a cliff. Shadows regularly passed over the lights, signaling to Lugh that there were indeed men wandering about the ruins that lay before them.
“Call me crazy, but I really did believe King Nuada when he told us that Bres’ seat of power had been destroyed,” Abcan murmured quietly. His pipe had disappeared long before they had come to the shore. The dwarf now held a crossbow in his hands, loaded and ready for any unfortunates that would dare stray upon their path. Lugh had often chastised Abcan for the reliance on weapons, but the taunts had died away when Abcan taught Lugh what a ‘Shield’ was. Since that day, Lugh had often insisted on carrying his own weapons. It had been a spear until he had assumed the throne – since then it had been hidden knives up sleeves and down boots.
“Aren’t you the same man that has insisted that I add more ‘embellishments’ to my stories?” Lugh asked, his lips twisting up into a smile.
Abcan was silent for a moment before replying with a tone of admiration, “Well that was just silly of me, wasn’t it?”
“You should know better. You’re the ‘master,’” Lugh continued to jibe at his friend.
“Ah, but then it appears that the teacher may have become the pupil,” Abcan laughed under his breath.
“You give me too much credit, man. I’m just trying to avoid what’s to come next,” Lugh went on, his tone growing more serious.
“And what would that inevitability be?” Abcan asked, turning away from the ruins and looking intently at Lugh.
“The inevitable slaughter. I’m sure we can sneak in – what with your own talents – but getting out will be tricky. I’d rather not waste the time learning the space so we can Doorway right back to the Hill,” Lugh said with a firm upper lip, his eyes fixed upon the horizon.
“Ah,” Abcan answered as his shoulders slumped slightly.
“But then, we can just Coast back. I can summon the Barge like before. I just hate that Void that we pass through,” Lugh went on babbling as his gaze fixated upon an opening at the base of the tower ruins.
“You know, that’s a good idea. Let’s go with that,” Abcan said quickly, snapping Lugh’s attention back in line. “Let me handle the misdirection and the subterfuge – you be ready for trouble.”
Lugh had regretted their decision as soon as they had come within the bounds of the torchlight of the tower ruins. He had counted no less than thirty men roaming about the half-exposed shell of a keep. Only two had stood guard at the mouth of the ruins, the rest of the silhouettes passing behind the many openings that dotted the tall walls. The plan had been simple enough: pose as two old fishermen that had washed ashore and beg shelter for the night.
Abcan had seemingly changed the plans on a whim, for as they approached the guards, Abcan suddenly clasped Lugh’s hand and disappeared from view. After a quick, hushed panic on Lugh’s part, Abcan had told him that they were both rendered invisible by his own weavings of the Light. Indeed, Abcan could not see Lugh, just as Lugh could not see Abcan – thus the need to hold hands through whatever invisible cocoon that now encased them. The bard lead Lugh up several flights of stairs and past four stations of guards before they had come upon a large oaken door with an enormous iron lock.
“You were always better with Earth,” Abcan whispered to Lugh, “Why not have a go at picking it?”
“Well, Uncle Cethen always said there’s a first time for everything,” Lugh joked as he embraced the Light and pulled out Fibers of Earth to feel out the iron lock.
Abcan groaned.
“You sure that he’s behind this door? How do we know its not the soldiers quarters?” Lugh asked as he starred intently at the lock.
“Why would they lock their own troops in? This is the only door we’ve seen with this kind of lock and it’s the highest floor we can reach in the tower. Why wouldn’t Gobain be in here?” Abcan whispered back furiously as he waited for Lugh to pick the lock. It would only take one Fomorian God or Goddess to find them.
Click.
True to Abcan’s intuition, Lugh had found the latch to the lock – not coincidentally after Abcan had grown quiet. They both jumped a little as the door swung open on its own accord.
Russian Dolls and Broken Gods, a new Fantasy novel by best-selling author, Aiden Finnegan, out this December! Preorder online and instore today!