A Spark is Struck in Cruachan (The Chronicles of Pádraig Book 1)

by Bill Stackhouse

  Once both peep-hole cover and door had been relatched, the voice shouted, “Enjoy your day…Your Highness!” After fading laughter, there was, once again, silence.

  “They know who I am,” Liam whispered, doffing his hood and angrily throwing it down onto the floor.

  “It would seem so,” Pádraig whispered back, removing his own hood. “But now we know something that we didn’t know before.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “This was no random kidnapping. You were targeted.”

  “To what end?”

  “Not sure. But a very substantial ransom payment comes to mind.”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed. “There’ll be a payment all right. That weasel Donnan will pay with his life. I swear it.”

  “Let’s just make sure it’s not us doing the paying,” Pádraig cautioned. “Simmer down. So far, not seeing their faces is a good sign. It means they really do plan on exchanging you for a ransom. If we ever do see them, though, all bets are off. I’ll have to use whatever magic I can muster to try and get us out of here. But for now,” he gestured to the window on the wall opposite the door, “let’s check the other two windows.”

  Liam couldn’t see mountains through those windows, either. All the endeavor did was confirm that their prison was in a forest clearing somewhere in the north.

  Hopping back down after looking through the third window, Liam said, “There have to be other buildings that house the guards, but they must be on the door-side of this one.”

  * * *

  By nightfall, a routine had begun to unfold. At mealtimes, they were ordered into their hoods in the center of the room and told to face away from the door as the bowls were slid in. A quarter of an hour later, it was bowls and spoons by the door and hoods on their heads, standing in the center of the room, facing away from the door. After supper, in addition to the utensils being cleared away, the main door opened, footfalls could be heard rushing in, and swords were placed at their necks as the water bucket was replaced with a fresh one and the chamber pot swapped out for an empty one.

  Each time, as soon as the small door or main door was reclosed, and periodically during the day, Pádraig would send forth an infinitesimal energy probe. The results were always the same—the magical spell remained constant.

  Hmm, he thought after the encounter with the swords. It’s not a containment spell on our prison. It didn’t drop to allow our captors to enter the room. There’s some other purpose to it. But what?

  Liam paced the room like a caged animal, periodically pounding on the walls and kicking the door.

  Pádraig sat down on his mattress and watched his friend for a few minutes. He could see the anxiety mounting. Finally he said, “Hey. Let’s get some sleep. We’ll need to stay sharp and keep our wits about us in the coming days. We’ll get an opportunity to escape. But when it comes, it’ll come quickly and we’ll get only one chance. We’ll have to be alert and ready for it at all times.”

  Willowday - Wolf 43rd

  Árainn Shire

  Ráth Árainn

  “Welcome home, My Lady,” Aoife, wife of Ruari, the Steward of Árainn Shire, greeted her with a warm smile. “Your room is all prepared for you, if you’d like to freshen up before supper. Your bags have already been sent up and one of the lady’s maids is unpacking them as we speak.”

  Home, Máiréad thought. The word still had little meaning to her. Although born at Fort Árainn when her father Eógan was Chieftain of Árainn Shire, she and her parents had moved to Fortress Tulach when she was but three years old. Déaglán, her father’s younger cousin and King of the Western Shires, had been elected by the Assembly of Shire Chieftains to be High King of Cruachan, and he, in turn, had elevated her father to Earl of the Western Shires, in effect making him acting-king in Déaglán’s absence.

  No matter how many times she had visited Fort Árainn over the ensuing years, though, she had never thought of it as ‘home.’ The only home in her memory had always been Fortress Tulach.

  Máiréad knew that Eógan still loved Árainn Shire, packing the family up and visiting at least once every season. Even now, as she watched him, standing there in the snow talking with Ruari, she could see the contentment on his face.

  Her mother’s countenance, however, exhibited not the slightest hint of contentment. Although granted the title of ‘countess’ when Eógan was made an earl, Kyna, Máiréad realized, enjoyed being a countess much more than being the wife of a mere shire chieftain.

  One topic of conversation that the family never discussed was what would happen when the day came and Déaglán passed over to The Otherworld and Prince Liam became Chieftain of Tulach Shire and King of the Western Shires.

  Máiréad said to Aoife, “Thank you so much. I’ll be up directly.”

  As the wife of the steward crossed over to Kyna, Máiréad watched her parents, and thought about something Pádraig had said to her and Liam at Fox Pond the day before the new year:

  “All three of us are going to achieve great things. You, Your Highness, will one day be Chieftain of Tulach Shire, King of the Western Shires and, most probably, High King of Cruachan. You, My Lady, are going to stand for entry into the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted at the Mid-Winter Roghnú and turn out to be the finest master wizard the Academy has ever produced and, I have no doubt, the first female Arch-Wizard of all Cruachan. While I, the humble servant of you both, will make sure that your horses have the best-cared-for hooves in all of the three kingdoms.”

  She also remembered what Pádraig had told her after Liam had departed for Fortress Tulach that day:

  “And, Meig, remember, while our friend may very well be a donkey-prince now, after his da passes over, Liam will become not only Chieftain of Tulach Shire but King of the Western Shires, as well. When that day comes, it will fall to his court wizard to help him develop into the king he needs to be.”

  As his court wizard, Máiréad mused, with a slight smirk of self-satisfaction, I’ll be able to influence the donkey-prince on my parents’ future, among other things. However, as both court wizard and wife, I’ll not only be able to influence him, but control him.

  The smirk dissolved as her thoughts turned back to her soul friend. Although I love you deeply, Paddy, we both know that it can never be.

  Looking once more at her mother, then at her own fine clothing, she realized how the apple, indeed, hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Court wizard and wife of a king, and very possibly the High King…or wife of an itinerant blacksmith. She shook her head in resignation. Unfortunately, even true love does not conquer all, my anam cara.

  With that thought, she glanced over at the fort’s forge, expecting to see both her soul friend and her future husband. The building stood empty, with no activity whatsoever taking place in it or around it.

  Máiréad and her parents had traveled directly from the Citadel of Cruachan to Fort Callainn the day before, and had been told that Pádraig and his halfwit cousin Killian—she still hadn’t figured that one out—had finished their work there and had already left the fort.

  They should be here, she thought, recalling the conversation she had had with the two boys outside the walls of the citadel when she had bid them good-bye:

  “What’re your plans? When will I see you two again?”

  “A quick stop at Ráth Gabhrán, then a week at Ráth Callainn, then, most likely, another week up at Ráth Árainn, then back here,” Pádraig replied.

  The girl’s eyes brightened. “Ráth Árainn!” she said, barely able to contain her delight. “We leave for Ráth Árainn at the end of the week. We’ll be up there at the same time.”

  “That’s great,” Liam said. “By then, after a week with Paddy, I’ll be ready for some adult conversation.”

  Crossing over to where her parents were talking with the steward and his wife, Máiréad waited for a lull in the conversation, then said to Ruari, “Excuse me, Steward, has the farrier come and gone already?”

  He shook his hea
d. “No, My Lady. In fact it’s been some time since we’ve seen him. He should be along any week, now, I imagine. If there’s a problem with one of the horses, I can have the head groom take a look at it.”

  “No, thank you,” she replied, somewhat dejectedly. “That won’t be necessary. I had been given the impression that the farrier’d be up here this week.”

  “Come along,” her mother told her. “Our things should be put away by now. Let’s get ready for supper. I’m famished after the day’s ride.”

  As Aoife led them toward the keep, the Reeve of Árainn Shire and one of his deputies entered through the main gate of the fort. The deputy drove an open wagon pulled by a single horse, with another horse tied behind. Two cloth-draped forms could clearly be seen laying on the bed of the wagon.

  “Oh, dear!” Aoife said, putting a hand to her mouth.

  All three woman knew instinctively what lay beneath the cloths.

  Máiréad watched as her father and the steward approached the now-stopped wagon and spoke with the reeve, who then dismounted and led them over to the side of the cart.

  Taking the corner of one of the cloths, he pulled it up slightly, then let it drop and did the same with the second cloth.

  All three men nodded, then Eógan gestured the deputy in the direction of the forge. Before the deputy started up, however, the reeve removed a small wooden box from the wagon bed.

  As the deputy and cart proceeded to the forge, Eógan and Ruari headed in the direction of the soldiers’ barracks, while the reeve crossed toward his office and lock-up, having to pass close to the three women in order to get there.

  He gave a slight bow of his head to Kyna, Máiréad, and Aoife, in turn, saying, “My Lady…My Lady…Ma’am. Bad business out there in the woods, I’m afraid.”

  “Who are they, Cian?” Aoife asked.

  With a resolute shake of his head he replied, “Donnan the tanner and his wife Ranait, ma’am. Found their empty wagon with no skins. Highwaymen, I suspect. The earl and steward are going to double the patrols of the security forces throughout the shire.”

  “Highwaymen don’t usually kill their victims, Cian,” she replied. “Would the tanner have been stubborn enough to refuse them his skins? And why would they kill his wife, too?”

  “Don’t know what happened out there, ma’am. Just know the results. Found both of them with their throats slit.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  Glancing into the wooden box, which contained the personal effects from the tanner and his wife, Máiréad spotted a dirk. Gasping, she withdrew the weapon. It had an eight-inch blade, brass guard and pommel, and ebony grip.

  “Where did you get this?!” she demanded.

  “Fr…from the tanner’s body, My Lady,” Cian replied. “It was in his belt.”

  “Then he didn’t resist the robbers,” Aoife said. “If the tanner still had his dagger in his belt, why would they kill him?”

  The only reply from the reeve was another shrug.

  “This isn’t the tanner’s dirk!” Máiréad said. “Turning to her mother, she continued. “Look at it! This belongs to Liam!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I’ve seen it dozens of times.” Turning from the threesome, dagger in hand, she started running toward the garrison’s barracks, shouting, “Da! Da! Something terrible’s happened!”

  * * *

  “There’s no doubt in your mind?” Eógan asked.

  He, Kyna, Máiréad, Aoife, and Cian all sat at a large table in the main hall of the keep. The ebony-handled dirk lay in front of the earl.

  “None whatsoever!” Máiréad replied. “It’s Liam’s! I know it is! Look at it! It’s one of a kind!”

  Her father glanced over at his wife then back at his daughter. “The craftsman could have made more than one,” he offered weakly.

  “Look at it!” she again demanded, standing up and pointing at the dagger. “And even if it were a duplicate, how could a mere tanner afford it? And where are Liam and Paddy? They left Ráth Callainn before we arrived, and they were headed here next. Where are they?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” the earl told her, holding up a hand for calm. “Just settle down.”

  “Settle d—”

  Kyna put a hand on Máiréad’s arm and squeezed. The girl closed her mouth, dropped down onto her stool, and glared at her father.

  Just then the door opened and Ruari entered with a member of the Cruachanian Defense Forces.

  “My Lord,” the steward said, nudging the other man up to the table. “This is Squad Leader Eamon. He and his men are stationed here at Ráth Árainn. They cover the circuit south to Ráth Callainn and north to the garrison at North Head. He talked to the farrier the night before the lad was to leave Ráth Callainn.”

  “When was that?” Eógan asked.

  “It was Hollyday evening, My Lord,” Eamon answered.

  “You’re sure of the day?”

  “Absolutely, My Lord. My horse of many years had gone lame and I thought we were going to have to put him down. Paddy—the farrier, My Lord—told me to leave Phelim—that’s my horse, My Lord—with him while I went on patrol and to check back with him on Hollyday evening. When I got back that evening, I found that he had cured Phelim—not cured him so that he’d ever take me on patrol again, but cured enough so that we didn’t have to put him down. I brought him up here with me the next day and turned him out to pasture at my sister’s bee yard to live out his remaining years there.”

  “And where was the farrier going next?” the earl asked.

  “He and his halfwit cousin, Killian, had finished up at Ráth Callainn and were also heading out that Oakday morning, My Lord. They hadn’t left when my squad did. And, although Paddy never indicated to me specifically where they were going next, I just assumed that, like Tadgh, they would be coming here. I’ve just returned from two-days leave, and was surprised when I didn’t see them.”

  “This is Willowday,” Máiréad whined to her father. “They should have been here three days ago.” Addressing Eamon, she said, “Who is this Killian? Where was Liam?”

  The squad leader, puzzled, shook his head. “There…there was no Liam, My Lady. Just Paddy, the farrier, with his cousin, Killian, working as an apprentice. A nice enough boy, Killian. Appeared to be a good, hard worker, but a little off in the head, if you catch my drift.”

  “You never saw Liam? Prince Liam? The son of the High King?”

  “Son of the High King? No, My Lady! No!”

  Eógan turned to Ruari. “You’re already getting increased patrols out tomorrow to search for the highwaymen. At first light I want those patrols quadrupled. We need to find Prince Liam.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” the steward responded.

  Cian, the shire reeve, spoke up. “Me and my deputies will join you, Ruari. One of us in each patrol. We know the woods of this shire like the backs of our hands.”

  “I appreciate it,” the steward replied.

  The earl turned his attention back to Eamon. “Have someone else take your squad, tomorrow morning. Go mount up and get to Ráth Callainn as quickly as possible. Find out exactly when and where the farrier and his apprentice, or the prince, or whoever he had with him went, and report back here without delay.”

  The squad leader stood at attention, not saying a word.

  Eógan sat there for a few moments, looking up at Eamon, who stood there with a pained expression on his face, looking down at him. Finally, Eógan got the unspoken message that the very well-trained squad leader had been too polite to voice.

  The shire reeve, the head law enforcement officer for each shire, reported directly to his shire chieftain. The security forces of each of the three kingdoms patrolled their own kingdoms on land, and, at sea, they patrolled their own coastline. Although the security forces of each kingdom ostensibly reported directly through channels to their king, they, too, worked closely with the shire chieftains where they were barracked. The Cruachanian Defense Forces, in co
ntrast, were responsible for national security. On land, they patrolled the entire coastline. At sea, they patrolled in sea-currachs far off the coast. They were also responsible for law enforcement within the Central Federal Region. Although billeted in the same barracks as the security forces, they were neither under the control of the shire chieftains nor the regional kings, but reported through channels directly to and only to Field Marshal Gearóid, and, through him, to the High King.

  With a slight smile, Eógan said, “Please inform your captain of my request and tell him that I’ll be over to see him this evening after supper to make an official appeal in person.”

  “Yes, My Lord!” a relieved Eamon replied. “And…thank you, My Lord!” With that, he turned on his heel and exited the keep.

  “Steward,” Máiréad said to Ruari, as the squad leader closed the door behind him, “Please have someone saddle my horse in the morning. I’ll be joining the reeve’s party on patrol at first light.”

  The steward’s eyes widened as he glanced at the earl. “My Lord?”

  Eógan hesitated, then said, quietly, “Do it. My daughter’s a gifted one. And she has a special connection to Prince Liam. Her talents may be helpful in the search.”

  “As you wish, My Lord.”

  When the earl looked over at Cian, the reeve said, “We’ll keep her safe, My Lord.” Then to Máiréad, he advised, “Where we’re going, tomorrow, My Lady, breeches may be a wiser attire than a dress.”

  Aoife patted her hand. “After supper, we’ll get you outfitted properly, My Lady.”

  * * *

  “You did well, Eamon, under extremely difficult circumstances,” the garrison commander of the Cruachanian Defense Forces told the squad leader. “I won’t wait for the earl’s request. Mount up and get going. Don’t spare the horse. As soon as you find out where the farrier and whoever he had with him were going when they left Ráth Callainn, have the garrison commander dispatch a rider back here immediately so that we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”