The path Sine suggested they take turned out to be narrow and overgrown with grass, but it was the only way out of the little valley. They picked their way along carefully, watchful for roots and tangled clumps of weeds that could trip them or twist an ankle. The winding path cut through some woods and across the side of a low slope, then rose sharply to slice between the mountains. As it skirted around the side of one of the mountains, the path afforded even rougher footing, as parts of it had either been washed out be previous rain storms or filled in with boulders and dirt from landslides.     "My feet are killing me!" Mairta said as she sat down on a large rock and rubbed her feet. They had just descended into a secluded glen and stopped to rest. There was a chill wind blowing along the path on the higher elevations, tugging at the tops of the trees, but here in the glen most of it was shielded by the surrounding hills. The mist had been swept away from the mountain tops, which now loomed behind them, arrayed in bright white and golden wildflowers.     "I wish I could call a cab," Dighaine said, flopping down beside Mairta.     "I wish I had worn different shoes!" Mairta responded.     "We can't stop now!" Aingeal insisted, "We haven't gotten anywhere yet!"     "Let's leave them here," Sine suggested, then turned to explain to Dighaine and Mairta. "You can wait and rest. We'll get the sword, then come back to get to get you." At first Mairta and Dighaine looked hopeful, apparently liking the idea.     "That won't work," Michael announced. "Right after we found the cauldron and the spear, Eriu transported us away. We probably wouldn't have the opportunity to get back here before we ended up who knows where else!" Aingeal was about to make a different suggestion when, suddenly, they heard the sound of clopping hooves coming toward them. They all turned at the same time to see a shaggy jet-black pony come trotting up the path through the trees. It approached them without fear, coming right up beside Dighaine and nuzzling her in a friendly way with its nose.     "Alright!" Dighaine jumped to her feet, "Here's our ride!" She climbed onto the pony's back, and it stood patiently, waiting for her to get comfortable. It was a bit sway-backed, but felt sturdy enough. "How about it Mairta? You coming?"     "Try and stop me!" She slid her shoes back on and climbed up behind Dighaine.     "I don't know about this," Michael said, looking at the pony warily. He had the feeling something wasn't quite right. It looked back at him with its huge placid liquid black eyes, and he could swear he saw a spark of something there. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Aingeal had picked up on the very real apprehension in his voice.    "What's wrong, Michael?"     "What?!" Sine laughed, "You worry too much! It's only a ---" Suddenly the pony whinnied shrilly and bolted as if it had been stung on the rump by a bee. Mairta and Dighaine screamed as they were swept away, clutching desperately to the pony's mane and bouncing wildly on its back. It tore away from the glen at an amazing speed, swifter than any normal horse could ever run, then it disappeared back down the path in the direction it had come from, taking Mairta and Dighaine with it.    Michael, Sine and Aingeal raced along the path through the wooded hillside, trying to follow the pony's tracks. It had long ago disappeared from view. They had followed it up the hill, determined not to loose its trail. The path skirted around the hillside, and there was an abrupt break in the trees. They stopped there to catch their breath, panting hard from their exertion. From where they halted, they could look down over the side of the hill. The land fell steeply away from them, sweeping out like a earthy brown skirt. Below the hill where they stood stretched a flat, very soggy looking bog punctuated by occasional rocks protruding from the earth. The cold wind hit them here as they looked with dismay at the wet countryside and up to the grey clouds scudding across the sky. They could see that the path they'd been following snaked down the hill just ahead of them and cut directly across the bog, tracing out what must be the drier ground. As they looked down, they could see the black pony galloping out across the bog, with Dighaine and Mairta still clinging to its back, trying to stay on. It was amazing that they had hung on so long already.    "Oh no!" Aingeal cried out, covering her eyes, "I can't look!" The pony suddenly pulled up short and bucked violently. Dighaine and Mairta were flung over the pony's head and dumped headlong into the bog. The pony then reared up onto its hind legs, pumped the air with its forelegs, and whinnied. Even from where they stood, Michael could hear the voice of the pony, and the unmistakable cackle of laughter that underlaid its voice. Dighaine lay face down in the mud and Mairta cringed in fear that the pony would trample them. Then, without warning, it dissolved into thin air and was gone.     "Wow!" Sine cried, "Did you see that?" Michael nodded, but Aingeal was just uncovering her eyes.     "What? What happened?" They scrambled down the side of the hill, then hurried along the path out to where Dighaine and Mairta were carefully picking themselves up out of the mud.    "Are you alright?" Michael ran up to Mairta, grabbing her by the waist and helping to steady her as she swayed a little. Mairta looked down at her muddy clothes. "Now I'm positive," she growled, "I definitely shouldn't have worn this dress today!" She tried to brush the clinging mud off, but it was too wet and sticky.     "Where did that pony go?" Dighaine looked around angrily, scrubbing the mud off her face. She held her head between her hands to maintain her shaky balance. "I'm going to pop it right on the nose --"     "Didn't you see what just happened?" Sine stared disbelievingly at her.     "No." Dighaine answered, "My face was in the mud. I couldn't see anything. Why? Where'd it go?"     "It just disappeared!" Aingeal told her, "Right after it dumped you two, it vanished."     "Right." Mairta said sarcastically, "Do you expect us to believe that?"     Before Aingeal could reply, they were startled to hear a voice calling to them with a loud "Hallo!"     Michael swung around to look in the direction the voice had called from. A very young man - maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, by the look of him - was running toward them, waving with a smile. His very long, straight black hair, which was tied at the base of his neck, waved right along with his hand. Michael quickly scanned the whole area trying to determine where he had come from, then frowned in confusion. There didn't seem to be any place he could have come from. No bushes, or trees for quite some distance. There weren't even any rocks nearby that he could have been concealed behind.     "Hallo!" He said again as he came to a halt in front of them, grinning widely. He looked them over, then his dark eyes came to rest curiously on Dighaine and Mairta. "Who are you?"     Before they could respond, Michael turned the question around on him, "Who are you?"     "I'm Eochu," he answered cheerfully, giving Michael a brief glance before addressing Dighaine and Mairta again. "How did you get so dirty?" They explained their mishap with the pony to Eochu, who then nodded gleefully, "It sounds like you've had a ride on a Puca."     "A what?!" Sine made a face.     "A Puca. There are lots of them around here, I've heard." He looked around as if making sure no one was eavesdropping, then turned back to them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "They say that the Puca appears as a horse, luring unsuspecting travellers - like yourselves - onto its back. Once on, they're taken for a wild ride, and then dumped." He suddenly giggled, "Just be glad you got dumped in the bog, and not some place less pleasant!"     "Well," Mairta said, "I'd much rather it hadn't dumped us at all!" She fingered the mud on her dress distastefully, "We've got to get cleaned up somehow."     "I know just the place!" Eochu announced, "There's a fort not far from here. The people there will take care of you. Follow me!" He turned, ready to lead them further into the bog.     "Wait!" Aingeal cried, "How do we know we can trust these people?"     "How do we know we can trust you?" Michael murmured under his breath. Eochu seemed a little too eager to help. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar, and it was making him feel very uneasy. Eochu looked directly at Michael and winked, smiling disarmingly.    "Don't worry. You're way out in the middle of nowhere. Indech's people never come here." Somehow he'd known exactly what Michael had been thinking. "The fort belongs to a Lord who is still loyal to Eriu. So far Indech hasn't bothered with them."  "I say we go then," Dighaine urged, "I don't want to be covered with mud all day. And this is starting to dry!" Mairta, Aingeal and Sine agreed. Michael, against his better judgment, reluctantly agreed also, but mostly because he felt so bad for Mairta and Dighaine. It wasn't their fault they were so muddy and miserable.     "Okay," he said, "But no one gets on the backs of strange animals again, no matter how friendly they appear. Agreed?" They all nodded, except Eochu, who laughed, making Michael feel even more uncomfortable.
	Eochu led them on a  north-west trek across the bog, sticking carefully to the road that ran through it. The bog land eventually gave way to lush meadows sprinkled with yellow flowers and more hills, as the terrain began to rise in elevation. After an hour of walking, they crested the brow of a grassy hill and found themselves looking down at a wide silver river that snaked between rolling hills and forked in two just below where they stood. One branch flowed north and the other went west. Crowning a low hill tucked into the fork itself, flanked by the two river branches, stood a fort surrounded by two concentric rings of wooden palisades. Without a word, Eochu gestured toward the fort, then rambled down the hill at a pace much faster than they could follow. Michael and the others walked down after him, and by the time they caught up at the gate to the fort, Eochu was yelling up to the sentry on the catwalk to open up. The guard peered down at them suspiciously at first. Then his face lit with recognition - and something else - when he spotted Eochu. He yelled that he'd be right  down. A moment later, the gate swung open wide and the guard stepped out, looking agitated. Dighaine and Mairta eagerly stepped forward to be let in, but the guard looked right past them. "Where is he?" He snapped, "Where is that rascal, Eochu?" They all turned to point at Eochu, but he had vanished completely.
	"So Eochu got you, did he?" Their host, Matach slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. "That trickster! He is useful when it comes to keeping Indech's people at bay, though." Michael forced a smile, finding no humour in what Eochu had put them through. He sat with the others in the main hall of Matach's fort, eating his food and enduring his hospitality. The place was filled with smoke, noise and a variety of people: Warriors, most of whom were past their prime, but a few who had recently crossed the threshold into adulthood; a few bards and musicians; several servants; but mostly members of Matach's large extended family. Though he and his wife, Mugain, had been generous, providing baths and a change of clothing for Mairta and Dighaine, and now feasting them like royalty, Matach highly overestimated his own sense of humor. He forced them to suffer through one bad joke after another, about topics so unfamiliar to them that even if they had been funny, they still would not have understood them. Mugain frequently shot them weary apologetic looks, and it was painfully obvious that she'd heard each joke many times before. As Matach continued to banter on happily, unaware that he'd lost one of his audience, Michael looked around the hall, admiring especially the colorfully painted carved wooden pillars supporting the thatched roof, which rose two storeys over their heads. Above the first floor, circling half the hall, was a gallery with a doorway leading outside to a wooden walkway which connected the main building to the catwalk on the palisade. Matach had shown it off to them with pride when they'd arrived, saying it was the only such construction in the region. Michael now saw the reflected red light of the sunset pouring from the opening onto the gallery wall and suddenly felt an overwhelming desire for a breath of fresh air. He excused himself, but Matach barely paused long enough to acknowledge his exit before he launched into yet another tale to his captive audience. Michael went up the stairs to the gallery, out the door, and then crossed the walkway.He stood staring out across the top of the wall to the dimming green countryside below. The sunset on the two rivers made them seem to burn like molten lava. He sighed heavily, suddenly homesick. This wasn't the Ireland he knew, nor were these the problems he was used to facing. I'm not giving up, he thought hurriedly, as if to reassure himself that he wouldn't. He crossed his arms on the top of the wall and laid his forehead against them, thinking, It's just that I'm so tired. He sensed a presence behind him and turned to see Sine.     "You know," he said to her, "not that long ago I knew what I was doing and why. Now I haven't got a clue either way."     "Yes, you do," she told him, "We all do. We're looking for a sword." When Michael didn't answer her, her expression grew worried. "Michael, what's wrong?" "I've been thinking about what Eriu told us and wondering how truthful She was being." Sine looked surprised that Michael would even suggest Eriu had been lying.     "What are you saying?"     Michael shook his head, searching for a way to put his thoughts into words. Finally he said, "Take this Indech character, for example. What did she tell us about him?"      Sine shrugged, "That he'd killed a lot of Her people and taken over the country?" Michael nodded emphatically, "Yes. Yet I've see a lot of the country over the past several weeks, and I've met several people who claim to be allies of Eriu's. But not once in all that time have I actually encountered - let alone laid eyes on - anyone connected with this Indech." He paused, raising his eyebrows, "If he's supposed to have taken over the country, where IS he?!" Sine had also begun to wonder if they would run into Indech, but she'd never considered that he might not really exist.    "Do you think Eriu's just making this whole thing up? That there is no invasion?"     Michael shook his head and his lips puckered with annoyance, "I don't know. Something seems to have happened here, maybe an invasion of some kind. But to what extent, and how much of the country was actually affected, it's hard to tell. All I know is we keep finding places like this," he swept his hand out over the fort, "that clearly HAVEN'T been touched by invaders. And I'm wondering why."     Sine was about to respond with a question of her own, when she was cut off by Aingeal bursting through the doorway, a look of excitement in her eyes.    "He has the sword!" Sine and Michael both stared at her, not quite comprehending what she was saying.    "What?"     Aingeal was so excited she seemed about ready to burst, "Matach! He has the sword we're looking for!"    Michael and Sine hurried inside, followed by Aingeal. They watched from the gallery balcony as Matach addressed the people in his hall. He held a long sheathed sword up between his hands. The scabbard was bedecked with jewels and thin gold wire fashioned into delicate spirals, and the hilt - the only visible part of the sword - was studded with sapphires that sparkled in the firelight.     "It's beautiful!" Aingeal sighed.     "That was easy enough!" Sine looked sceptically at Michael, "I thought you said it wasn't going to be easy!" Michael frowned, then turned to Aingeal.     "How do you know that's the sword we need?"     "He said it was," she insisted. At Michael's look of doubt, she added, "That's why I came up here to tell you." "Now all we have to do is get him to give it to us," Sine said. "Michael, go show him your necklace."     Michael held up a hand, "Wait. What's he saying now?"     Matach was in the middle of some kind of announcement,". . .so whoever has the courage, and ability, to do that successfully will be rewarded with this magnificent sword!"     Murmurs of amazement rippled around the hall. Aingeal turned disbelieving eyes on Michael and Sine, "He's going to give it away?!"     Mairta and Dighaine had spotted them up above watching and now stared questioningly at them. Michael put his hand to his neck and felt the circle of Eriu's medallion under his shirt. He had the feeling something wasn't right here. There had been an unusual something, almost a supernatural aura, around the other Guardians, that Matach simply didn't possess. Was it possible he'd stolen the sword? And was the weapon the reason why Matach's fort had been left alone by Indech all this time, because it afforded some kind of supernatural protection? Several people now approached Matach to take up whatever challenge he had presented. Michael hadn't heard that part of Matach's speech, but he knew he had to do something quickly before the sword was given away. He descended the stairs two at a time and quickly walked over to Matach.     "I want the sword, Matach." Matach raised an eyebrow at him and smiled pleasantly,     "You'll have to take a turn like everyone else. Maybe you'll even be successful." Michael pulled the necklace out and showed it to Matach. Mugain squealed a little and rounded the table to get a better look at it, but Matach just laughed.    "It's a pretty piece of jewelry, I'll grant, but you can hardly expect me to accept THAT in exchange for a sword of this quality!" Michael quickly dropped the necklace back under his collar, his suspicions about Matach confirmed.    "I'm afraid I didn't hear what this challenge of yours is."     "I'll repeat it for you, and since you're my guest, I'll even allow you to make the first attempt if you wish." He gave a sharp look to a couple men who began to grumble at this, then went on, "The challenge is this: I have recently had to execute two criminals. At present, they are out behind this building hanging by the neck - quite dead, mind you. I promised this sword to anyone who has the courage to bind together the ankles of one of the corpses and then take him wherever he asks to go. But each person only gets one try!"     "What?" Sine asked, "How's that going to happen? Dead people can't talk!"     Michael was about to remind her of Donn Bo's Oracular Head, but then remembered she hadn't exactly believed him the first time he had told that story. "I'll try," He said to Matach, "But you can let the others who already volunteered go first. That's fair." Matach looked surprised by this gesture, but nodded agreement. As they waited for the first man to be taken out behind the building to the corpses, Aingeal pulled Michael away from the table and whispered, "Why did you let all those others go first?" "Because I wanted to see what would happen when they tried to do it."     "What makes you think one of them won't be successful?"     Michael looked down at his feet, then at Aingeal's feet, "If we're meant to get the sword, we will. Eriu will make it happen somehow."     Aingeal's eyes widened, "Like She made us appear here? In the top of a tree? Hardly what I would call reliable -- What are you looking at?"     "Your shoelaces."     "What --?"     "Your shoelaces. Can I have them?" Aingeal looked down at her running shoes with their long, fairly new laces. They were brown now, though, from all the trekking through the mud she'd done.    "Why do you want my shoelaces? Your shoes don't even need laces!"     Just then the man who had gone out to the corpses returned. It was obvious from the dark scowl of frustration on his face that he had been unsuccessful. Several of his comrades ridiculed him, saying "How hard could it be to tie a dead man's ankles?" The man turned on them angrily, "They wouldn't stay tied!" There was more laughter, along with loudly verbalized doubts as to the man's ability to tie a proper knot. The next man strutted out, confident he would be returning soon to claim the prize. Within minutes, however, he was back again, just as furious and bemused as the first. When the third man came back with the same complaints, people began to laugh less with humor than out of nervousness.     Matach sat back in his chair, looking smug. Finally it was Michael's turn, and all eyes were on him.     "Let me have your shoelaces," he murmured to Aingeal.     Aingeal shook her head, "Only if I can go out there with you. I want to see what's going on." Michael nodded agreement and the two of them were led through a doorway under the balcony by a servant. The servant then pointed in the direction of another door, indicating that it led outside, but wouldn't venture out with them. Outside it was very dark. The only light came from a few torches flickering in the wind at intervals along the outside wall. The hanging bodies were long black shadows that seemed to hover in the air before them. Despite the fresh breeze, the air around them hung heavy with the stench of rotting flesh.     Michael wrinkled his nose, "Let's get this over with. Can I have your shoelaces now?" Aingeal walked over toward the torchlight and unlaced her shoes, returning with the laces and one of the torches. "What's all that?" She pointed to the ground.     Michael glanced down, "It looks like whatever the others used to try tying this fellow's ankles. Some kind of fibrous rope material. It looks like it simply shredded apart." He took the shoelaces and knotted them together several times. "Nothing like a good shoelace knot. Ever try to untie one of these when it's been really tightened?"     Aingeal chuckled, "Who hasn't?" Michael wrapped the lace three times around the nearest corpse's ankles, then pulled it tight before tying it into not one knot, but five.    "There!" he said with satisfaction, "Let's see him get out of that!"     A low, gravelly voice suddenly whispered in the darkness, "Water."     "What did you say?" Aingeal asked Michael.     "I didn't say anything."     "Water." This time they both heard it. Michael stared at Aingeal. Aingeal stared back. Then, slowly, they both looked up at the dead man's face. He was staring right back at them.
	Return to Library  |  Return to Great Hall  | Guest Register  Email the Author