A smile crept over Kyna’s face while the applause was taking place. Máiréad, shocked at what she had heard, pulled away from Liam, quickly glanced at her mother, over at Odhran, back to Liam, then back at her mother again.
Wiping the tears from her daughter’s face with her hand, Kyna said, “Go! And go proudly!”
Máiréad almost ran to take up her position in front of Odhran, dabbing at any remaining tears as she went.
Pádraig turned his head and glanced at the girl; however, she refused to look in his direction. Instead, she stared straight ahead at the flaming oak log.
Although Máiréad’s tears had come to an abrupt end, someone else fought back tears of his own. A boy, who had come all the way down with his parents from Béarra Shire in the north, stood there wondering why he had been passed over by Odhran after being promised a scholarship to the Academy.
* * *
After all five selections had been made, and the last round of applause had died out, Arch-Wizard Faolan again intoned the first tenet of wizardry: “Seirbhís a Tír, my brothers and sisters.”
The other four master wizards plus the five selectees to the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted replied with one voice, “Agus Rí.”
While the crowd clapped once more, each of the new students congratulated each other on their mutual selection—all except Máiréad, who passed by Pádraig without so much as a look, as if he were but an apparition like Coinneach, and embraced Scoithniamh, conveying her good wishes to the girl from the Eastern Shires, and telling her how much she hoped they’d become fast friends.
As the image of Coinneach faded, and the other master wizards returned to their previous places with the royal family, a captain with the Cruachanian Defense Forces lead the five selectees off to the side where they would await transport to the docks and then board a sea-currach that would take them to Blessed Island.
Yet again, Déaglán raised his hand for quiet. When the crowd had silenced completely, he said, “Before the merriment begins, we have one more piece of business to conclude at this year’s Roghnú. As most of you are aware, my son, Prince Liam, was recently kidnapped.”
Cries of, “Long live Prince Liam,” went up.
Déaglán continued. “Not only was he resourceful enough to escape from his captors, he also bravely lead a small party to rescue one of our five Academy selectees—Pádraig, son of Finbar.”
Cheers issued forth from the assembly, and more cries of, “Long live Prince Liam.”
“If that weren’t enough,” the High King went on, “the prince, with the assistance of Master Odhran, then orchestrated an operation that uncovered the murderer of Tadhg, a well-loved farrier in the Northern Shires.”
More cheers and more cries of, “Long live Prince Liam.”
“Because of his bravery, valor, and sound judgment,” Déaglán continued, “I am proud, this day, to announce to the entire Confederation of the Three Kingdoms that I am naming Prince Liam as deputy king of the Kingdom of the Western Shires and my sole heir.”
As the High King beckoned Liam and Ginebra forward, the assembly erupted once more in cheers and shouts and whistles of approval.
“I didn’t realize at the time that we were in the presence of such greatness,” Lairgnen said, wryly, looking at Finbar. “In fact, I’m surprised the lad needed any of us at all.”
The farrier chuckled, then replied, “If you want to be loved, old man, get a dog.” With that, he, too, shouted for show, “Long live Prince Liam.”
Once the prince and his mother had arrived at the High King’s side, the queen handed Déaglán a silver torc with twin eagle heads carved into the ends of the metal, and removed her son’s bronze wolf-head torc.
Positioning the silver torc around the prince’s neck with the eagle heads toward the front, the High King said, “Liam, my son, of the house of Seamus, I now name you deputy king, and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of the Western Shires.”
The prince bowed deeply at the waist, then replied, “As your heir and deputy king, I vow to serve you, Sire, and to protect the throne and all its chattels, so help me, An Fearglas!”
After the entire gathering had completed the ritual act of submission, more applause, more cheers, more whistles, and more cries exploded, and the mid-winter merriment began in earnest.
* * *
A four-seat open parade carriage with a fringed top, hitched to a pair of matching white draught horses stood there. The selectees and their parents were saying their last good-byes before the new student wizards would board the carriage and be transported to the docks at Saltwater Bay.
“Do you have everything you’re going to need?” Finbar asked, handing Pádraig his brown leather roll-up of personal belongings.
The boy shrugged. “Three changes of clothing, my new hoof-pick,”—he reached through the slit in his gray cloak, removed his new hawk-beaked tool from his belt, and showed it to his father—“and—”
“I saw you making that the other day in the forge,” Finbar interrupted. “What happened to your other one? And just how many horses do you expect to find on Blessed Island?”
“I must have lost the old one back at the kidnappers’ encampment,” the boy replied. “And, although, there probably aren’t any horses on an island full of rocks and steep cliffs, I just like having it with me. It reminds me of who I am. Just as this does.” The young farrier pulled his cloak away from his neck to reveal a leather thong that held the stone from his mother’s necklace—the stone that contained a carved tríbhís with a double-headed war-hammer and an open hand in its center.
Finbar pulled his son’s cloak up tighter around the boy’s neck. “With weather like this,” he said, “you’ll need to keep warm, lad.”
Pádraig climbed up into the third seat of the carriage, and his father handed him the leather roll-up, saying, “I know you’ll study hard, Paddy, but I’ll miss not having you by my side.”
“I’ll see you at Mid-Spring break, Da. Help you catch up on the workload.”
The two farriers exchanged forearm grasps, and Finbar winced slightly.
“Oops. Sorry, Da. I forgot,” Pádraig said, relaxing his grip on his father’s new tattoo, just below the burn scar on his right forearm.
Máiréad and Kyna had finished saying their good-byes as well.
Finbar assisted the red-haired girl up into the first row of the carriage, telling her, “Congratulations on your appointment, Lady Máiréad. And good luck with your studies.”
The girl looked down at him, as if she had never seen him before in her life, and replied. “Thank you farrier. But I don’t believe luck will have anything to do with my success.” She then turned away from him and started chatting with Scoithniamh, who had entered the carriage from the opposite side and sat next to her.
Just as a member of the Cruachanian Defense Forces mounted the driver’s seat, and a squad of lancemen rode up to escort the carriage to the sea-currach that would take them to Blessed Island, Liam ran up.
“Meig! Paddy!” he called out. “Isn’t this great?” Both of you together at the Academy? Who would have thought it?”
“Who indeed?” Máiréad replied, flatly. “I distinctly remember someone once saying, ‘My da is a farrier and a blacksmith, as was his da before him, as will I be with him and after him.’ However, I don’t remember him saying, ‘I think I’ll stick a knife in one of my best friend’s back.’ Funny how times change.” With that she turned away from the prince and continued her conversation with the girl from the Eastern Shires.
Seeing the hurt look on Pádraig’s face, Liam said, “Give it time, Paddy. She won’t stay mad at you forever. She never does. Besides, you two have to stick together out there on the island. After all, I won’t be there to look after you.”
That brought a smile to Pádraig’s face. “And I won’t be here to heal your scrapes and cuts, you clumsy oaf, so be careful while I’m gone. And by the way,” he said, reaching over and petting one of the eagle head
s on the silver torc, “congratulations on the new neckwear. Well deserved, Your Highness.”
The newly named deputy king blushed slightly. “Yeah, I know, the High King went a little overboard with the adulation, but what can I say? Parents, right?”
The horses started up. The students waved good-bye to their folks one last time. And Pádraig called out to Liam, “See you at mid-spring break! And just so you know, I’ll be running every single day.”
Yewday - Bear 1st
Blessed Island
Academy for the Spiritually Gifted
“In the beginning there was An Saol Eile—Only An Saol Eile and the Void.
Flames, and dust, and mists, and winds swirled endlessly within the Void. Aside from these, the Void contained nothing—nothing but darkness.”
Coinneach, Guardian of the Purple Stone and Master of the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted, turned and looked at the five gifted ones who had been selected this year for entry into the Academy. Five sets of young, eager eyes were riveted on him, on this the first day of class for first-level students.
* * *
The Academy did not have set years of study, but, instead, levels of achievement. Each student would progress through the program of study at his or her own pace, attaining levels commensurate with their accomplishments.
Right now these five—three boys and two girls—were but beginners. All had potential, or they never would have been selected in the first place. But potential counted only for entry into the Academy. Achievement was the measure of advancement. Achievement only. Nothing else.
Those who attained level-one status—that of novice wizard—would be awarded a green mantle. The green mantle marked those who were the keepers of tradition and history. They didn’t keep it in books or on tablets. They kept it in their minds. Some managed to learn and memorize what was required of them in two or three years. Some in five. Some in eight.…And some never.
Eight years was the cut-off point for advancement to a higher level. Some never made it past novice wizard, but novice wizards were treasured throughout the three kingdoms. They knew the history. They knew the traditions. They knew the law and the lore. And they were respected for their knowledge.
Oblate wizards were those who had attained level-two status. Their purple mantle marked them as herbalists and healers. No king or chieftain would even consider not having at least one oblate wizard on his staff. Accidents, wild animals, and conflicts were ways of life in Cruachan.
Apprentice wizards wore red mantles to signify that these few had mastered the rudimentary spells, incantations, and potions necessary to attain level-three status and function as wizards-under-supervision. Their education continued in the field, and they would spend however many years as was necessary assisting the master wizard who had sponsored them. During this time, it was hoped that they would learn the most complicated of spells, incantations, and potions.
Once, and only if, their sponsors deemed them to be ready, apprentice wizards would graduate to level-four status and receive blue mantles that marked them as journeyman wizards. They were now free to function independently and offer their services for hire. However, they were still under the charge of the master wizard in whose kingdom they functioned.
The kings of the three kingdoms, in consultation with the Sodality of Master Wizards, had the sole responsibility to choose their own master wizard from among the ranks of the journeyman wizards to fill a vacancy due to death. The High King, again in consultation with the Sodality of Master Wizards, had the sole responsibility to choose the Arch-Wizard as well as the Master of the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted.
Death was the only reason a master wizard could be replaced. Once reaching that level-five status, he or she was a master wizard for life. Upon a master wizard’s passing over to The Otherworld, the Arch-Wizard would temporarily take guardianship of the stone which that wizard had guarded until a new master wizard was named. Along with receiving a black mantle that signified the rank of master wizard, all the late wizard’s possessions, including the seeing-stone, would become the property of the newly appointed master wizard.
* * *
Coinneach continued with his orientation lecture:
“An Fearglas looked out upon the Void and saw the potential for much more than confusion and nothingness.”
At the mention of the Deity’s name, the new students began the ritual act of submission, but halted at different stages when they noticed that the master wizard had not even begun. They would soon learn that if they stopped for the ritual every time the holy name of the Deity was uttered at the Academy, they would be touching their foreheads, chests, and mouths almost continually. As time would go by, they would take their cue from Coinneach and perform the ritual only when he followed up with the words, ‘Blessed be His holy name.’
“Stretching out His hand, An Fearglas captured each of the four elements one by one from the Void. First, He obtained Earth—the millions of specs of dust that had swirled around from the beginning of time. Next, He acquired Air—the wind that drove the vortex. In turn, He then secured Fire and Water. When He had possession of all four elements, all that was left in the Void was total darkness.”
Stopping and pointing to the boy sitting to Pádraig’s right, Coinneach asked, “Which element did An Fearglas retrieve from the Void first?”
* * *
The students all sat at a long table. Máiréad had been the first to arrive at the classroom and had claimed the center stool. Next to get there had been Pádraig.
He had tentatively sat down on Máiréad’s right and had said, “First day. Sort of scary, huh?”
Getting no response, he had tried again. “There are only five of us, Meig. Can we talk? It’s going to be awfully difficult for you to avoid me the entire time we’re here.”
By then Scoithniamh had arrived and had sat on Máiréad’s left. Also one of the other boys had taken the end stool to the right of Pádraig.
“Not really,” Máiréad had replied, flatly, getting up and moving to the end stool on Scoithniamh’s left, just as the fifth member of their class had come in and sat on the stool that Máiréad had vacated.
* * *
“Um, Earth, Master Coinneach,” the boy answered. “The millions of specs of dust.”
“I’m glad to see you were paying attention,” the old wizard said. Then he continued with his lecture:
“Taking these four elemental forces, An Fearglas compressed them and formed them into an orb. Then breathing His Spirit upon the orb, He cast it back into the center of the Void where it began revolving in place. This was the end of the first day of the creation of the World, and An Fearglas saw that it was good.
“Then, as the World spun on its axis, An Fearglas separated out the four elements, and, rather than allowing them to return to disorder as they had been, He confined them each to their own place. Splitting Water from Earth, He created the dry land and the seas, lochs, and rivers. Taking Air, He placed it in a layer above the Earth and the Water. With Fire, He buried it deep below the surface of the Earth and the Water. This was the end of the second day of the creation of the World, and An Fearglas saw that it was good.
“On day three of the creation of the World, An Fearglas divided the darkness of the Void into day and night, placing the sun to light the day and warm the World, and placing two lesser lights, the moons—Silver Nightingale, the smaller and closer of the two, and Golden Owl, the larger and farther away—to provide a bit of light even in the darkness of the night. He also placed an incalculable number of much smaller lights, the stars, in the nighttime sky so as to aid in navigation around His World. And He saw that it was good.”
Again Coinneach turned to the students and pointed to the boy on Pádraig’s right, and asked, “Which element did An Fearglas retrieve from the Void first?”
The boy hesitated for a moment, thinking it a trick question since he had been asked it and had answered it once before. Cautiously he gave the same a
nswer again. “Earth, Master Coinneach! The millions of specs of dust.”
The old wizard smiled. “See? The answer remains the same. As it always will.” Pointing to Pádraig, he asked. “Name another one of the five elements from which all things were created?”
Five? Pádraig thought. Earth, Air, Fire, Water. There are only four. This one has to be a trick question. “Air!” he answered quickly.
The wizard’s finger switched to the boy on Pádraig’s left. “Same question to you. Name one of the five elements from which all things were created?”
“Earth!” the boy blurted out.
“One that hasn’t already been named. Quickly, quickly, lad!” He clapped his hands.
“F…f…fire!”
“I’ll accept ‘F…f…fire!’ but a simple ‘Fire!’ would have done the trick.” Continuing on down the line Coinneach pointed to Scoithniamh. “Same question! Hurry, hurry, lass!”
“Water, Master Coinneach,” she replied.
“And to you,” the wizard said to Máiréad. “Same question. Hmm? Hmm?”
“The little red-haired girl looked confused. “B…but, Master Coinneach, there are only four elements—Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. They’ve all been named.”
“Have they now?” the wizard asked. “Really? What is the fifth and most-important element?” When Máiréad just sat there, mouth agape, Coinneach looked down the line at all of his students. “Surely someone must have been paying attention. Anyone?”
Pádraig quickly replayed the narrative of the first day of creation over in his mind.
“Taking these four elemental forces, An Fearglas compressed them and formed them into an orb. Then breathing His Spirit into the orb, He cast it back into the center of the Void where it began revolving in place.”
Suddenly it dawned on him. “Spirit!” he answered. “The fifth and most-important element is the Spirit of An Fearglas! Without it the World would not exist.”
A Spark is Struck in Cruachan (The Chronicles of Pádraig Book 1) Page 34
