by Alan Fisher
Art suspected that if any performer could mesmerize onlookers to the extent where they lose consciousness, then surely magic was at play. If this was the case, he had a bigger problem on his hands; he would need to learn about this magic and if it posed any threat to him or the kingdom. Either way, the high king was determined to get to the bottom of this tale sweeping the city.
Meanwhile, the boy continued his simple life back in Kells. Each evening he'd play a few tunes for the patrons in the tavern. He enjoyed chatting with them after, hearing their stories. One evening two travelers, an elderly man and his daughter, stopped in for the night. Having made their way down from the north, Kells was their final stop before reaching the capital. As the lad played his Timpan, the girl sat with her father who was sipping on a cup of ale. In tune with the music, she began to speak, reciting a poem she’d been writing. Straight away her gentle voice caught the attention of everyone in the tavern. The boy realized what was happening and encouraged the girl to get more involved. She stood from her chair and her soft voice turned into song; in sync with the Timpan she sang her poem beautifully. As she finished the room erupted with applause and the father jumped to his feet introducing her to the room.
“My name is Uachtar and this is my beloved daughter, Aine. Tomorrow we shall go to Tara for the honor of performing before the high king.”
Several other musicians were sitting in the tavern and they invited Uachtar and Aine to come join them. The young lad walked over to thank Aine for singing. As he approached, he overheard them chat about the upcoming competition in the capital.
“She has a fine voice, Uachtar. In fact, it is better than that, she has the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. Surly she will capture the heart of Art Mac Cuinn when she performs for him tomorrow,” said one lady.
“You are very kind,” replied Aine.
“It’s nice to meet you…?” Uachtar said as he sat down extending his hand in friendship.
“Eimear, it’s a pleasure. These are my bandmates,” the lady replied, introducing her two friends.
“I play the fiddle, Donal here plays the flute, and Ciara plays that big harp over there.” Eimear pointed at a large case stacked against the doorway.
“Oh yes, we’ve very much enjoyed carrying that all the way here,” said Ciara, prompting everyone to laugh.
“Thank you for joining in. Your voice is perfect, am I correct in hearing you’re on your way to play for the high king?” the young lad finally asked.
“You’re very kind. The high king will have a competition in the city tomorrow. All musicians are welcome. Why don’t you come along with your Timpan?” Aine replied.
“A competition?” he asked.
Eimear then spoke also. “Yes, you should come with us tomorrow. From midday, the high king will hold auditions to find his new court musicians. There is no greater honor than to be selected. You would be at a great advantage with your Timpan, I’ve heard that is his favorite instrument.”
The boy didn’t need to think, he needed no extra reason to play his music. “I’m in, that sounds fantastic. This little old tavern eh, why have I not heard about this until now, please tell me more?” They chatted for a few more hours before going to bed.
Very early the next morning, they all met outside the tavern, packed up their instruments, then helped Ciara load her large Pedal Harp onto the back of a pull cart and set off in the direction of Tara. They arrived just before midday and needed to quickly hurry towards the great hall to register and get a time slot to play before the high king. Musicians were also given the option of performing solo or in a group. Eimear, Donal and Ciara rushed forward and registered first. Uachtar had originally planned to play his whistle to complement Aine’s vocals, however having enjoyed their collaboration the previous night, he suggested Aine and the young lad play as a group.
“Last night you both seemed so in sync with one another. I was moved to tears by your performance. Look, I’m an old man, I think together you’ve a better chance of winning. Now, don’t worry about me, go wow the high king.” He kissed his daughter on the head and ushered them both to hurry and register.
The courtyard was full of musicians. Random notes and screeches were deafening as everyone tuned their instruments and rehearsed their music. Uachtar, Aine, and the young lad found a quiet corner to wait until it was their turn. It was the late afternoon when Eimear and her band were called. Aine and the boy were surely next, so Uachtar led them through to the great hall to watch Eimear’s performance.
The high king sat with his son on a stage, slightly elevated off the ground. Each performer was escorted through by Fianna guards and instructed to wait, kneeling before Art until he requests you to play. The auditions were open to the public and large crowds had gathered to watch, filling up the great hall. Eimear, Donal, and Ciara kneeled before the high king as Uachtar, Aine, and the boy shuffled their way inside.
“And what is your name?” Art asked.
“My name is Eimear, this is Donal and Ciara. We’ve travelled all the way from Fermanagh to perform for you today.”
“Thank you for making the journey. Please continue,” the high king replied.
With that they jumped to their feet and burst into a fast-paced jig which prompted the young prince to start clapping his hands.
“Very good indeed. Cormac here enjoyed that very much. Thank you for your time.”
They bowed before Art and were once again escorted away from the performance area by Fianna Guards.
“Who’s next?” the high king shouted.
An orderly standing nearby announced the musicians.
“Next up we have two young performers, my High King. Aine Ni Macánta on vocals and Aillen Mac Midhna on the Timpan.” The orderly then tilted his head towards the high king and stepped away from the performance area.
Uachtar pushed Aine and Aillen forward. “Go, go, good luck.”
They both walked forward and bowed before the high king.
“And what will you be singing for us today, little one?” Art asked.
“I will sing a poem I wrote myself. It’s about my mother who passed away when I was small. My friend here, Aillen, also lost his parents when he was young so we thought we’d share this song with you, my lord.”
“Nothing brings me more pleasure than listening to the beautiful sound of a Timpan. I look forward to your performance little one, please continue.”
With that they both rose from the ground. Aillen sat on a small stool while Aine stood facing the high king. She started softly and everyone in the room listened to her gentle lament. As she continued Aillen played his Timpan perfectly in tune, capturing the mood and serenading the huge crowd that had gathered. Her song was truly beautiful, everyone remained silent, taking in and enjoying every word and note. As they progressed, a heavy feeling started to come over Aillen, this was not new to him, in fact he felt the same way each evening he played in the little Kell’s tavern. However, he’d never really played alongside a voice like Aine’s before and he too was touched by the occasion and her lament. Thoughts of his mother and father crept into his mind, as they appeared before him he closed his eyes only for their image to become more vivid and real. He could see his beloved parents. He hoped his performance would make them proud, and so he played.
Aine was the first one to fall. Aillen was so caught in his fantasy that he didn’t even notice. He just kept playing, his head now swaying left and right. Art jumped from his throne as soon as Aine fell to the ground. He pointed his men towards Aillen. Suddenly, his son, Cormac, fell asleep also, falling to the ground and knocking his head. Blood flowed and stained the ground. Art looked up once more, his Fianna and large parts of the crowd were now dropping rapidly. With very little time before he himself succumbed to the effects of the music, he jumped down from the stage and clattered Aillen across the head with his ale cup, knocking him out cold.
e kicked the Timpan away from the boy and ordered his men to tie him up. Art then
rushed back over to Cormac who was sitting on the ground, crying with blood streaming down his forehead. He passed him to his mother who rushed with her maidens back to the main castle. Art’s brow tightened as he looked out, shaking his head at a room half full of people still unconscious on the floor. This was certainly no rumor; Art realized straight away that this boy was very powerful indeed and posed a grave threat to the kingdom. Deliberately or not, he’d already come very close to killing the heir to the throne.
Marching back over to the boy, he dragged him by the scruff of the neck through the hall, his hands and feet now bound. Art grabbed a nearby flask of water and poured it on Aillen’s face, slapping him awake.
“Where did you learn this magic?” The high king leaned over the boy, barking into his face.
Aillen was confused having just regained consciousness.
“What do you mean…I was just playing my Timpan…”
As he spoke a Fianna guard struck him with an open hand.
“You’re speaking to the High King of Ireland boy!”
Tears now rushed down Aillen’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my lord. I’ve no idea where I got this power, one day I just woke up and the Timpan was there. I could play it as if I were communicating, like a language, speaking to you now. But I have no idea why, I swear…”
Art looked at the crowd that had now gathered in a circle around them, waiting to hear their high king’s judgment. The hall was quiet except for the sniffles of the boy and the crackling of the fire.
“What will he do to him, Father?” Aine whispered to Uachtar.
Art crunched his teeth together, and once again grabbed the boy by his neck and gestured to his guard to throw him the Timpan. Lifting Aillen off the ground with one hand Art spoke directly into his face.
“I am not your high king boy, for you and the power that resides within your Timpan are not of this world. I return you to the gods, they alone can cast judgment.” Uachtar suddenly embraced Aine tightly against his chest, for just as Art spoke he launched Aillen into the fire, crashing through the sizzling food and landing deep into the searing flames.
The boy’s screams rang through the hall as his hair and flesh charred on impact. Dark green flames whistled from the Timpan wood burning beside him. It suddenly exploded, bursting open with an otherworldly screech. Everyone in the room gasped and stood back as they watched this green flame, freed from the Timpan, dance and hover over Aillen before finally engulfing him and stopping his pain. The boy went silent, he was gone.
That evening when the fire had died a Fianna guard kicked through the rubble in the center of the hall looking for the remains of the boy. However, they were completely gone, consumed by the fire. Nothing remained.
Deep in the Cooley Mountains, everyone went quiet and took cover as a screeching darkness floated through the caves making its way to the Mag Mell waterfall, the gateway to the Otherworld. This water which gives life to the Foye Mountain suddenly flowed black as the wailing darkness approached and passed through. Then it returned to normal, shining great colors over the market and chatter picked up where it left off as the busy little leprechauns went on about their business.
The Note
F innegas spent most of his time selling whiskey at his market stall. He had a little cottage nearby which he rarely used. After work, he'd normally find someone to drink his nights away with, then stumble home to sleep off his hangover. Tonight, was one such evening. Wobbling home after a hard session he swayed from side to side, mumbling to himself.
“Where are they? I coulda swore I had them leaving...” he puzzled, standing outside his door pulling his pockets inside out, grabbing for his key chain. After dropping a handful of clutter to the ground he leaned over to pick it up when he noticed the note from Taiko facing upright.
Dear Ena,
Tomas took the ring off. He travelled home and spoke with his mother. To be safe I came to tell you. Also, tell Finnegas I want a new pair of tap shoes.
Yoroshiku.
Taiko.
“That’s right, I forgot...” With that he picked up the note and walked back across the market in the direction of Ena's workshop. All his clutter stayed scattered on the ground. When he reached Ena's door, he started banging and shouting through the keyhole.
“Ena! It’s me, it's me, open the door, I’ve something for you. I forgot to give you a message from Taiko.”
Ena rushed to open the door. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he greeted Finnegas.
“What? Taiko was here?”
Finnegas leaned forward stinking of whiskey. He did his best to appear sober.
“Ena, I forgot to tell you, Taiko stopped by and gave me this note for you. I asked her to come inside and stay for a while, but she needed to rush off somewhere. I just remembered.”
Ena grabbed the piece of paper from his hand and looked at it.
“When did she give you this?” he asked.
“Oh, a little bit ago, when you were away in Carrantuohill.” Finnegas smiled, he leaned against the door holding himself upright.
Ena's brow tightened.
“That was three weeks ago, why am I only seeing it now? I’ve got to go check on this right away. It's very important.”
“As soon as I saw it I came over. I'm getting too old for these types of shenanigans. Who is Tomas anyway? And why is it such a big deal if he talks to his mother?” Finnegas yawned, his eyes glossy as he walked passed Ena and into the house.
“I might grab a couple of hours sleep here is that ok?” he asked.
“Fine, go to bed, you old nuisance, I should have checked this ages ago, they must be so worried.” Ena picked his tunic off a nearby coat rack and made his way outside, pulling the door shut behind him. As it slammed he was gone.
He reappeared at the edge of the great forest and gasped at first sight of the burnt ruin before him.
“Nooo! That resentful fool,” Ena shouted as he stood over the rubble.
“I'll make him pay, so help me, I'll make him pay dear for this...Tomas, I have to let him know.” With that he disappeared once more.
Time passed slowly for Tomas and Ai. Living on the edge of grief, they clung to the hope that Taiko, Aine, and Eamonn were still alive. One day folded into the next, and with each setting sun their hope faded as they waited to hear from Ena. One morning, Tomas sat on the bank by the river which flowed beside Ai’s workshop. A warm breeze blew and fish skipped out of the water catching the attention of local fishermen. Tomas stared into his hands, twisting the ring around his finger, over and over, wondering the hours away. It was around lunch time when a small dog approached and sat beside him, barking to catch his attention. Tomas stretched his arm and stroked its scruffy brown fur.
“Where have you come from, little one?”
The dog moved closer and sat in front of Tomas, who continued to pet its head. As he did so the pup spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
Tomas jumped up and away from the mutt.
“What did you say?”
“It's me, Ena.”
“What in the world is going on?” Tomas looked around to see if anyone else noticed, however, the few people that where there stood over by the river pointing at the jumping fish.
“Ena? You’re sorry? Is this a joke or something?”
“No. It’s me really. I didn’t want anyone to see me but I've something very important to tell you. Unfortunately, it's bad news about your family.”
With that Tomas’s eye widened and he kneeled by the dog.
“Are they gone? Have you seen them? Where have you been all this time? We’ve been waiting for so long,” he said.
“I only got Taiko’s message a short while ago. Just now actually, but when I did, I went straight to the cookhouse to check on your parents. Tomas…it’s gone, they're gone. It was burned to the ground. I was too late, I’m so sorry.”
“I know that,” Tomas shouted through his gritted teeth before lowering again to a whisper. �
��After Taiko left you the note we walked all night and saw what happened. Fionn has taken my parents, and Taiko went to save them but never returned. I’ve been waiting for weeks now for you to come, hoping you’d bring some news.”
“What, Taiko’s not here?” Ena asked.
“No, we went to the cookhouse and saw it was burnt to the ground. Dulta Og was there and he told us what happened. Fionn, Oisin, and Diarmuid took my parents prisoner to Tara. Now I’ve no home, I’ve no idea what’s become of my family, or even poor Taiko, who only wanted to help.”
“Tell me more. Where is Taiko?”
“She went to Tara. When we heard what happened from Dulta Og, she told me to wait three days while she went off to check on my parents and try to save them. I waited. I waited in Dulta’s horse shed and by the third day when she never came back, all I could do was put the ring on, and hope you’d see the note. That was weeks ago, where have you been? What can we do?”
The dog turned away and walked towards the river. As it moved, its legs and body transformed and in and few short steps Ena appeared in his true form. He turned back to face Tomas, his eyes red, holding back the tears.
“I’m truly sorry, Tomas. I swore I’d make things right and I mean to keep that promise. Stay here and no matter what don’t take off that ring, I mean it. You’re safe with Ai. This has gone too far. I’ll come back with news shortly, but if I don’t it means I’ve failed and you must not return to Ireland.”
Tomas nodded. Ena's face tensed as they stared at one another for a few brief seconds before he disappeared.
The Bottle of Whiskey
F innegus opened his eyes, he was stretched over a sofa sat high on a second-floor walkway in Ena's workshop. He winced at the taste of alcohol dried to his mouth as he noticed the clattering coming from below. It was this noise that had woken him, each bang and thud pulsating through his mind.
“Ugh...” He swallowed, turning his head to the side and squinting down towards the commotion.
From this side angle, he could see Ena rummaging through some shelves and presses stacked beside his bed. Once Ena found what he was looking for, he stared into his hands before turning and rushing out the door. It was difficult for Finnegus to make out what he was holding, yet he did notice something drop to the floor. Picking himself off the sofa, Finnegus meandered downstairs, over to where Ena was standing. A small leather scabbard lay on the ground. His mind cleared and he was carried back many years, to a time he longed to forget. Still barefoot, he hurried after Ena and watched as he vanished through the portal next to the whiskey stall. Finnegus took a deep breath, as he exhaled he started walking home, holding the scabbard in his left hand.
