In the Kingdom of All Tomorrows--Eirlandia, Book Three

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  ‘Knowing this, you will understand and fully appreciate the value we would place on discovering a superior material without any such dire effect on our kind,’ Lenos continued. ‘In the haranbar of the Hatti we found it.’

  Following their return to Socair Sídhean, Conor and Fergal had gone to their barrow to rest and refresh themselves; once within the privacy of the thick stone walls, they engaged in a lively exchange over the demonstration they had witnessed at the Cuweem forge and the massive implications of this superior metal. Their discussion was far from concluded before they had been summoned to join their host at the board.

  This time, there had been no festive reception for them, no feast in their honour. It was just the lord and his two advisors and Conor and Fergal huddled in one of the many smaller alcoves partitioned off from the main room. A supper of cold roast meat, bread, and cheese had already been laid; there were no servants to attend them, but Armadal kept the platters moving and the jars refilled.

  ‘Do not imagine I have forgotten your risk and the sacrifice you made to save us from captivity to the Scálda vermin,’ the king continued. He extended a long, pale hand to Armadal to refill the bowls of his guests. ‘For that reason, if for no other, you will appreciate the need that drove us to seek out the secret of this strong iron.’

  ‘Am I right to be thinking that, apart from being far stronger than iron, this new metal causes no harm at all to faéry folk?’ asked Fergal. ‘You can handle the stuff without fuss or fear?’

  ‘That is so,’ replied the faéry king. ‘Although this haranbar derives from iron, it also contains other materials that render its touch harmless to our race.’

  ‘And am I right in thinking that you are willing to share the secret of this strong iron with us to use in our fight against the Scálda?’

  Lenos inclined his head in regal assent. ‘Out of gratitude for your rescue from the death awaiting us in Balor’s cruel captivity, we would.’

  Fergal’s expression told Conor all he needed to know about what his swordbrother thought of the faéry king’s simple explanation—nor was Conor wholly inclined to entirely believe it himself. It may have been true as far as it went, but Conor suspected there was something more he was not being told.

  ‘Let me tell you what I propose,’ said Lenos. Conor gave a nod and the king, leaning over the board, continued. ‘Let us be clear. The new metal is derived from iron, as I have said, and which you also know to be deadly poison to us. We cannot touch it or even have it near us for any extended length of time. Yet, we need old iron to make strong iron.…’

  ‘And you need mortals to supply and handle the raw iron for you to use to make this haranbar?’ guessed Fergal.

  ‘In a word, yes,’ replied Lenos. ‘And we need something else as well—’

  ‘Craftsmen and smiths to work it,’ surmised Conor.

  The faéry king smiled and glanced at his two advisors. ‘I told you they would not be slow to understand.’ To Conor, he said, ‘Yes. The Hatti are leaving soon to return to their homeland. They have completed their part of the bargain and have demonstrated they possess the secret of strong iron, and have been richly rewarded for their efforts. Before they sail for the east, they will teach us the methods and practices used in making strong iron and we will pass this secret on to you.’

  ‘And in return we will supply the raw material required,’ concluded Conor, ‘and men to work it, and we will both share the proceeds.’

  ‘That is the bargain,’ Lenos told him.

  Conor studied the faéry for a long moment, once more consumed by the very strong feeling that there was yet something he was not being told. On the face of it, the bargain made perfect sense: the Aes-sídhe had discovered a superior metal, but required help to develop it. Owing to their past history, Lenos had come to Conor and offered to give him the secret in exchange for that help. Simple. And yet …

  Finally, Conor said, ‘Impressed as I am with all you have shown us and the bargain you propose, there is one thing I still do not understand.’

  ‘Tell me, my friend, and I will help you however I can.’

  ‘Why do you need strong iron at all?’

  Lenos sat back in his chair. ‘Why? Because it is a very useful material, very powerful—as you have seen with your own eyes.’

  ‘But why do you need these weapons?’ persisted Conor.

  ‘To fight our enemies,’ offered Sealbach. He had been silent through the meal and following discussion, but he spoke up now. ‘We need strong iron for the same reason you Dé Danann need it.’

  ‘So long as you remain here in Eilean Ceó, the Scálda are no threat to you,’ countered Fergal.

  Sealbach gave him a slighting look. ‘The Scálda are a threat to every living thing so long as they live and walk and breathe the air of this worlds-realm.’

  ‘You have bronze weapons already,’ Conor pointed out. ‘And charms to enchant them.’

  ‘Strong iron is far superior,’ Sealbach sneered. ‘I thought that fact had already been demonstrated and placed beyond all doubt—even for one of such dim intellect as—’

  ‘Please! Please, friends,’ broke in Lenos, trying to recover something of the former civility. ‘We seem to have drifted some way from the main current of our discussion.’ He gave Sealbach a hard look and then turned to Conor and forced a smile. ‘I think we are making this more difficult than it need be. We have something you want, and you have something we need. It is as simple as that. I say we work together for the benefits we will both derive.’ He put out a hand to Conor. ‘What do you say?’

  Conor stroked his moustache in thought. ‘I say,’ he replied, ‘that it is a hefty decision and there are many details to consider—on our side of the bargain, at least—and this is new territory for us. Let us sleep on it and we will give you our decision in the morning.’

  Lenos leaned back in his chair and gazed at his two reluctant guests, not bothering to hide the disappointment on his face. Finally, he sighed and said, ‘Then let us leave it there for the night. We will talk again tomorrow morning.’ He rose, signalling an end to the meal and discussion.

  ‘I am sorry to say it must be an early start tomorrow,’ Armadal informed them as they pushed back from the board. ‘If we are to return you to Eirlandia in time, we must leave on the next evening tide and there is a long ride ahead of us to reach the shore.’

  Conor thanked Lenos for the meal and promised to deliver his answer to the proposal without fail, first thing in the morning. Leaving the hall, they were accompanied to their quarters by Armadal. Though night was full and deep upon the land, the sky yet held a blush of ruddy light in the west through which a light sprinkling of stars glowed like individual candles. At the door to the barrow, they bade their faéry guide a good night and went inside. As soon as the door was closed, Conor began pacing. Fergal sat on the edge of his bed and watched him marching back and forth, his face scrunched into a fierce and thoughtful scowl. ‘What is in your mind, brother?’ he asked after a moment.

  Conor was slow to answer, but when he did, he said, ‘There is more to this than we know. I feel it here—’ He struck himself on the chest. ‘But for the life of me, I cannot say what it is.’

  ‘Let’s start with what we do know,’ Fergal suggested. ‘And it is clear that your fella Lenos and his folk have gone to enormous difficulty and expense in pursuit of this new metal—this Destroyer as he calls it,’ Fergal observed.

  ‘They have. For a fact, they have. Yet, here I am, asking myself to what end? Why? When the faéry kind can conjure up a charm for a sword or spear and shield superior to any iron blade. The weapons Gwydion gave us are proof enough of that.’

  ‘They say they want weapons to protect themselves against the Scálda,’ Fergal suggested. ‘They could do that with charmed weapons of their own.’

  Conor considered this for a moment and a thought occurred to him. ‘Ach, but what if they can’t? What if they can’t conjure such a charm? Could it be they lack such a s
kill as the Tylwyth Teg possess?’

  Fergal stood and began pacing, too. ‘This lack might drive them to find a remedy—is that what you’re thinking?’

  Conor stopped and stared at Fergal, who also stopped. ‘What? You look like a fella who just stepped in a badger hole.’

  ‘You said it just now,’ Conor replied. ‘You said they wanted the strong iron for protection against the Scálda—’

  ‘Aye, so I did.’

  ‘But that’s not what Sealbach said! Remember? He said “our enemies”—remember? He said they needed weapons of strong iron “To fight our enemies.”…’

  ‘Aye, his very words.’

  ‘It was you who assumed that it was the Scálda he was talking about,’ said Conor. ‘But think you now—who are the enemies of the Aes-sídhe?’

  The light of comprehension finally broke across Fergal’s face. ‘The Tylwyth Teg!’

  ‘Aye, the Tylwyth Teg,’ echoed Conor. ‘Rhiannon and her folk. Exactly. Iron breaks bronze, and charmed weapons break iron. But haranbar is above them all.’

  Silence claimed the barrow as both men considered the awful implications of the idea they had conjured. Finally, Fergal said, ‘What will you tell his lordship? He expects an answer in the morning.’

  Conor shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But I intend to do what I said I would do. I’m going to sleep on it.’

  There was, in the end, very little sleeping for either of them as they continued to wrestle with the problem through the night. Dawn found them no better prepared to meet Lord Lenos and deliver a satisfactory decision. They were awake and pulling on their clothes when a knock came on the door and, a moment later, Armadal appeared. ‘The king is asking if you would join him to break your fast before leaving?’

  ‘Tell your king we will be pleased to join him,’ said Conor.

  They finished dressing and took up their weapons and went out. They found Lord Lenos waiting for them outside the hall. He had put off his splendid royal garments and was dressed in simple attire, the colour of trees and bark and leaves—the hues and tints of forest and glade. His mood seemed as subdued as his clothing, and Conor wondered if the faéry king already guessed the nature of Conor’s reluctance to seal the bargain he had proposed.

  ‘I hope we have not kept you waiting,’ said Conor.

  ‘It is of no consequence,’ replied the king tartly. ‘But we must go now if we are to return you to Eirlandia as agreed.’ He lifted a hand and indicated Sealbach and two others leading their horses to them. ‘We can conclude our discussions on the way.’

  ‘I would like nothing more,’ Conor replied, taking the reins of the grey stallion from the groom.

  ‘What happened to breaking our fast?’ whispered Fergal as he swung onto his mount.

  ‘The same thing that happened to our glad welcome,’ replied Conor under his breath. ‘Here and gone.’

  As soon as everyone was mounted, the travelling party departed. Sealbach and Armadal rode on ahead to lead the way, Lenos came next, and Conor and Fergal rode last. They crossed the empty moor under a grey sky and entered the forest, striking the descending trail leading to the shore. The tall trees soon closed around them and they rode through a resin-scented woodland on a trail strewn thick and soft with pine needles to the accompaniment of the occasional trill of a thrush or the tat-tat-tat of a woodpecker.

  After riding in this way for some time, Lord Lenos half turned to Conor behind him and said, ‘Come up here with me.’

  Although the summons was more on the order of a command than an invitation, Conor put aside the insult and dutifully complied. ‘What is your pleasure?’ he asked as Búrach fell into step beside the faéry king’s long-legged brown mare.

  Fergal, not to be left out of the discussion, joined them, reining up a step or two behind Conor’s left shoulder where he could hear and see everything that passed between the two. Lenos, of course, noticed the intrusion and appeared inclined to object, but Conor quickly intervened. ‘Whatever you say will be repeated to my battlechief, so we might as well speak freely and openly.’

  ‘As you will,’ conceded Lenos. He paused, gathering his thoughts, and, with a last glance at Fergal, began. ‘It appears that you do not trust me or my motives in bringing you here.’ He held up a hand to forestall any disagreement. ‘It is of no consequence. But I had hoped to achieve a better understanding between our peoples.’

  ‘That is greatly to be wished,’ Conor told him. ‘You said you required these superior weapons to ward off your enemies—a need I understand only too well. Forgive me if I offend, but you refuse to join us to fight the Scálda—and the only other enemy of yours that I know are the Tylwyth Teg.’

  ‘Do you deny that possessing such weapons for yourselves would be a great boon to you in your struggle against the Scálda?’

  ‘I do not deny it at all—’

  ‘Ach, then why do you question our need for the same boon that you would possess?’

  Fergal, listening intently, spoke up. ‘With all respect, lord king, that was not the question asked. Could it be that you intend using these weapons against the faéry folk of Tír nan Óg?’

  Lenos reined to a halt in the path. His gaze grew cold as he turned to Fergal. Armadal and Sealbach, riding a little ahead, stopped and turned their horses. The king, this voice thick with disdain, replied, ‘I do not see that is any of your concern.’

  ‘The Tylwyth Teg are our friends and allies,’ Conor declared evenly. ‘We would do nothing to endanger them or our continued friendship. It seems to me that helping you to obtain strong iron would pose very potent threat to their safety and welfare. That I will not do.’

  ‘Friends!’ The faéry king pulled hard on the reins and jolted to a halt. ‘Do not tell me about friendship. The Tylwyth Teg are not your friends! Morfran has no love for you. He despises the Dé Danann.’

  ‘The same could have been said of the Aes-sídhe,’ said Fergal. ‘And yet, here we are. Could it be that you discovered a deep fondness and regard for us when you realised you needed our help?’

  Lenos’s face hardened. ‘Who are you to teach me my business?’ he shouted. ‘Listen, little man, there are others who will leap with joy at the offer I make. I can easily find someone else to do my bidding. I will have strong iron. Whether you help or not, I will have it.’

  Conor’s birthmark flared with instant heat and it took all his strength to keep his voice steady. ‘There will always be a sharper sword or a better spear, but if we abandon the virtues we esteem, then we are no better than those who would destroy those things. Indeed, we do their work for them. Hear me, Lenos, we fight against the Scálda, to be sure—but not at the cost of becoming the very thing we hate.’

  ‘Then you will never possess strong iron,’ spat Lenos, no longer concealing his contempt. ‘The secret of haranbar will remain with us.’

  ‘So be it,’ said Conor firmly.

  Lenos regarded him with an icy glare. ‘You would choose death and extinction over certain victory?’

  ‘We may be defeated, aye. We may go down into the dust of annihilation. But the Dé Danann will be remembered for the high value we placed on the virtues of honour and nobility. If we must die, then let those who come after know us for the things we valued—the joys of song and beauty, the bonds of love and friendship—and not that we betrayed those things when we came to the test.’

  ‘Only a fool places such a high value on transient things,’ mocked Sealbach. He flicked his fingers at Conor. ‘Friendships fail, songs end, beauty fades, love dies. That is the way of the world.’

  ‘No more talk,’ snapped Lenos. He turned a stony gaze on Conor. ‘The only thing left to decide is will you set aside your petty qualms and seize the victory that is offered you.’

  ‘It is not victory you offer,’ replied Conor through gritted teeth, ‘but death by another name. We will not be part of it.’

  21

  ‘This is not the end of it,’ warned Fergal. ‘They’ll only be findin
g someone else to do their bidding—someone who won’t care so much about the finer things such as honour and loyalty. Someone like Vainche maybe.’

  ‘I cannot answer for what anyone else might do,’ replied Conor. ‘But I see my way clear enough.’

  ‘Honourable as the day is long, to be sure. But, mark me, with us or without us the falsehearted faéry will be getting those weapons,’ Fergal concluded. ‘Did you ever consider that?’

  ‘There was nothing to consider!’ Conor swatted the air with his hand and gazed out across the white-capped waves as if at a massed warhost surging to battle against him. ‘And I tell you the truth, if Lenos offers again, I will do the same in an instant.’

  They were standing at the prow of the faéry ship on their way back to Eirlandia. Lord Lenos and his two advisors had declined to accompany their guests on their homeward voyage. After the bitter discussion on the way to the ship, the last thing either party wanted was to endure the trip in one another’s company. So, after bidding Conor and Fergal a curt and frosty farewell, the king and his companions sent them away with a final admonition to think long and hard how much more swiftly the war with the Scálda could be ended with the acquisition of strong iron.

  ‘I doubt you’ll be getting another chance.’

  ‘Do not waste another moment thinking about it,’ Conor said. ‘Lenos’s offer was never made in good faith.’

  Fergal pulled on his lip as he considered this, then said, ‘Will we tell Donal and the others what we’ve seen—about the strong iron, I mean—will we tell them?’

  ‘Aye, we will. And why would we not?’

  ‘There are those who may not understand your refusal. I expect there will be those who think you bartered away our victory when you should have joined an alliance with Lenos and the Aes-sídhe.’