Ban Talah

by A. L. Duncan

  “Wait. What about your quest?”

  Talah grabbed hold of her and pressed her to sit atop her aching legs. “It’ll still be there.”

  She lifted Juetta’s blouse over her head. Her hot tongue licked and tantalized Juetta’s nipple making her throw her head back in a moan. She moved against Talah’s thighs with fiery lust. Juetta clasped hold of Talah’s face and kissed her with wanting lips.

  Her enticing movement was too much for Talah to ignore as she slid a hand under the dress and slipped between her legs to the moistness that intoxicated her own fervor, irresistibly thrusting herself into the soft flesh that was yearning for her. Again and again, Talah’s seductive control emerged her into a trembling demand.

  Talah then threw her onto the bed kissing her heaving stomach and tickling her navel while tracing fingers teasingly up her thighs. Juetta shook and sighed as Talah’s tongue gently lilted upon the wet warmth awaiting her. Talah’s tender sucking and slow stroking tongue continued until Juetta’s body gave in submissively and her back arched, shattering all her lustful rise with a groaning cry.

  “THE WORLD SELDOM a human steps foot upon,” Brodie mused darkly to those on deck. “For legend has it no one but Finn himself has walked upon these shores and returned alive.”

  “Vikings, Romans, and plenty of Normans have since stepped upon these shores, Brodie,” came Talah’s voice from behind.

  Talah had climbed on deck standing behind her companions, awaiting the crew to lower the shore boat. Danann happened to look back and grimace.

  “I was about to come looking for you.”

  “There was something I had to take care of.”

  Danann raised an eyebrow to Juetta’s figure as she appeared on deck, and replied in a low voice. “So, was she taken care of?”

  Talah made a face and shoved her toward the boat. She turned to Juetta’s approach, stirred once again by the magnetism of those engaging green eyes.

  Juetta smiled warmly and held out Talah’s heavy cloak. “You forgot something.” She tilted her head to Talah’s deep stare. “What is it?”

  “Your eyes seem much...darker...than earlier, my Lady,” Talah murmured, causing Juetta to drop her eyes sheepishly.

  “Perhaps, it is because I grow frightful of this quest of yours.” She assisted Talah with the clasp then ran her fingers down to touch the soft cleavage between the vest folds. “You will come back to me, won’t you?”

  Skin inflamed from Juetta’s seductive touch, Talah reached out and felt the thick softness of her lover’s chestnut hair. “As soon as I can.” Turning to the captain, she added, “The same weight of coins will you receive for our voyage home.”

  Captain Deconus dropped his head in a slow bow. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Chapter Six

  DINAS AFFARAAN, THE Fortress of the High Powers arose aloft a jagged wall of rock above the mountainous passes, dressed in white snow as lace on a gown. It was here Ban Talah and her band found themselves to rest after hiking up treacherous icy terrains and frozen streams. Heavy snows had laden the peaks and boulders above, eclipsing them in its awesome shadow.

  Mac found pleasure to sit and rest his aching and breathless body upon a stone. “Had I known this such a gruesome quest I’d have brought my horse ashore.”

  Talah took a breath. “These passes are too narrow and jagged for horses. They would never have made it.”

  Brodie fell with his back against the soft-packed snow and rubbed at the cold chilling sweat from his neck. “How much further?”

  “We’ve passed so many streams and waterfalls,” Moya interjected. “How do you know we haven’t yet found it, Talah?”

  Talah nodded to the natural fortress high above them. “There it is. The abode is in high places of Snowdonia. And beyond that wall is a body of water that connects the shallows to the mountains of Snowdonia. That is where we will find what we are looking for.”

  Moya caught her breath. “Beyond...the wall.”

  Danann had been resting against a stick she found to use as a good staff. Finally, she pulled herself and Moya to stand. “Just think of this as good training,” she urged.

  “Suddenly, I feel like an old woman.”

  Brodie helped Mac to his feet. “Alright, alright,” Mac grunted begrudgingly. “I’m not the one feeling like an old woman.”

  “Oh-h, that’s right,” said Brodie laughed. “You’re old already.”

  After trekking several miles farther through the barren scape and numbing winds, the band found passage through the wall-like terrain by following a frozen body of water that carved its way through a narrow gorge as if it were roots in the earth. They scaled up the rock, occasionally stepping across deep-frozen ripples and spillage, until Talah halted them to stand before a magnificent glacial spectacle that took her breath away. A fifty-foot waterfall hung before them in a petrified cascade.

  “I’m not getting a good feeling about this,” Brodie wheezed.

  “It’s taken you long enough,” Moya snapped. Adding in a murmur as if to herself, “I felt a strangeness as soon as we stepped ashore.”

  Mac had taken a slower stride but soon caught up to his companions on the ridge. “Great mother of God,” he gasped. “I could drink the whole of it I think.”

  Talah passed a gloved hand over the ice with troubled curiosity and rubbed the frosty residue between her fingers pondering blankly the visions that encroached upon her memory.

  “You must not fail, Ban Talah,” the Lady of the Land had said. “You cannot fail. Call upon the Ancestors for your strength...”

  She lent an ear to Danann, allowing the words to carry her out of her distraction.

  “No animal tracks,” Danann observed. “No birds anywhere to be heard or seen for miles now. We must be very near the lair.”

  “Lair?” spouted Mac. “Who said anything about a lair?”

  “Don’t you remember the old tales, Mac? Many an elder spoke of the old dragons and their years here with much color and excitement.”

  “Hmm. Must have missed those.”

  Brodie piped in with a snort. “He was probably too much into his cup by that hour.”

  Mac grinned. “Aye.”

  Following Danann up to the waterfall, Talah squinted at its monstrous drops, frozen in mid-air even to the highest cliff edge. “Perhaps the Old Woman remembered more than she thought, after all.”

  Danann began following an obvious path to an entrance.

  Moya followed near. “Maybe this isn’t the right one.”

  The two women snuck a closer look then jumped back, shaken by the sight. Talah came upon them quickly. A man had been frozen in his terror-stricken form. Blanched blue-white skin, eyes petrified in their panic, this grisly sight was only made worse by the fact the man wore the robes of the Church.

  “Well,” Talah said after a moment, “this proves the Cardinal doesn’t care who he leaves in his wake.”

  “What heartless creature would do such a thing, even to his own?” Brodie asked.

  “A demon who is not of Rome and Rome’s ways,” retorted Danann. “He cares nothing for human life.”

  Mac breathed the chilled air deep into his lungs. “I can’t imagine dying in such a way. Give me a sword in the gut on the battlefield and I shall not cringe nor quail. Yet, this...oh, to be plagued by a slow death. I pray to God I go quickly.”

  “Settle your misgivings, Mac,” Talah reassured him. “This man did not suffer. This enchantment was sudden, almost an angered afterthought. Magic of the Cardinal, most certainly.”

  Danann was inquisitive. “But how did he know of this place? I thought few knew of Manannan’s abode.”

  Talah dropped her head, pondering the words of the Old Woman.

  “He must have known of the prophecy. I’m afraid he knows you well.”

  “He has seen my vision,” Talah reflected aloud.

  Moya sighed. “What will we do if he has already found the Crane Bag?”

  Ban Talah paid n
o such heed to worrisome words. She knew the Cardinal’s visit was an empty-handed departure. Her concentration now was how to get the band beyond this barrier and closer to their quest.

  “This is only an obstacle,” Talah answered. “Perhaps only to slow us down.”

  “For what purpose?” Mac asked.

  “Well, I for one am not going to stand here long enough to find out.” Talah rubbed her gloved hands together and concentrated on materializing a globe of fire. Stepping back, she tossed it at the ice, exploding and dissipating the figure into ashen dust. With the passage cleared, the group followed Talah into the cave.

  The cavity of the passage was narrow at first, but opened into a vaulting labyrinthine grotto with great monoliths, stones standing like talons. No doubt brought here by some ancient people, Talah mused. The glow from the cave’s scarlet-orange luminosity bathed Talah and her group in its colorfully rich hue and pools. Here and there hot springs warmed their chilled limbs from the intruding drafts of wintry cold outside.

  “Seems the Cardinal’s magic could not penetrate the lair,” Mac observed.

  Indeed, this was a place secure from evil. All felt safe here, even if nervously so. One could not help the churn in the belly at the thought of being so near the abode of a dragon.

  “Best then to pray for blessings these dragons have ceased their lusts for human flesh,” murmured Danann.

  “Or eaten breakfast already,” Brodie chimed in.

  The group stopped. They stood at an intersection, with four tunnels leading in four different directions.

  “Great Pwyll,” Mac said. “Now what are we to do?”

  “Best to split our forces, hadn’t you think Talah?” asked Danann.

  Ban Talah clasped hold of her sword’s handle and closed her eyes with pommel before her face. Finally, Talah turned to face the third entrance. The stone on the handle lit aglow in a bright, sapphire radiance and the sword sang a sweet metallic hum. Talah opened her eyes and smiled. “This way,” Talah breathed with confidence.

  As Talah reached out for Brodie, he picked up Danann’s sword and eyed its simple, yet powerful blade. “What did you name your sword, Danann?”

  Danann raised an objectionable lip and quickly snatched it from out of his hands. “Mine!”

  Brodie frowned. “Such a rude name.”

  Talah grinned at Danann as she stepped by. “A bit possessive, aren’t you?”

  “You, above all people, should know how dangerous it is for your weapon to fall into another’s hands.”

  Brodie protested. “Hey, my hands are loyal hands I’ll have you know, lassie.”

  The dim, narrow tunnel soon opened into an amphitheater, well lit by hot wall rock. Talah gazed about in awe at its vast, natural beauty. Ancient symbols were carved into the stone floor and a small circular hearth burned in its center arena.

  Moya knelt down and ran her fingers over the lines. “This is surely Ogham. But I can’t read it.”

  “This is the most ancient of Ogham,” Talah instructed. “Inscribed by the Ancients themselves, long before our Gaul ancestors. The first written language to us mortals as a remembrance to the sacred and profound. We stand at the chamber of the most high and holy. The center of our beings, this is our earthly bond to all that is divine.”

  Talah’s enthusiasm was suddenly directed near the center hearth. She squatted down, eyes even with its stone basin and was enraptured by the orange-red dances of Otherworldly flame.

  Danann crouched beside her. “This fire is not hot, yet it emits warmth,” she said, sticking the tip of her staff in the fire.

  “That which breathes fire breathes also ice,” Talah replied, guiding Danann to withdraw an iced-over tip.

  Brodie gulped. “Magic.”

  “Magic is illusion,” Moya corrected him. “This is divine.”

  Talah touched Brodie’s hand. “Think of this body as a vessel that can at one moment breed the iced malice of hatred in your lungs and in another moment seer the heated passion of love to melt the heart. We mortals are but a mere reflection of this true form of spirit and matter.”

  Brodie began to draw a finger close to the flame before Moya slapped him away.

  Talah turned to Moya. “Let us begin the summoning.”

  Moya nodded and began to pull a pouch of dried herbs from her belt. Talah laid a gentle hand atop hers, halting her in thought.

  “Your voice only must give light here, Moya,” said Talah. “Sing sweetly the utterance of your childhood gods.”

  Moya stepped back from Talah with eyes that darkened to her leader’s persuasion.

  “Forgive me Moya,” said Talah.

  “Do not ask this of me, Talah. I cannot.”

  “Only a child of Avalon can calm the fires.”

  Brodie balked. “Moya? A child of Avalon?”

  Moya seethed, “Not anymore.”

  “Those are a bard’s stories,” interjected Danann.

  Talah smiled kindly to Moya’s darting eyes. “Her heart is a warrior’s heart. Yet, her spirit is and will be always an echo from the mists that bore her. Like her mother before her, and all blood of such generations before her. Noble women, of great inheritance. Such learned the language of tranquil waters, the immortal deeds of stars, and how to read the mysteries of mortality that melt into the crisp night air.”

  Mac grinned under his beard. “I rather enjoy the idea of priestesses. A hardy stock they are, flax of the earth.”

  “A devotion I no longer serve. I didn’t wish to hide away in the mists. I yearned to see the world differently, find a freedom in all things radiant in the sun. To taste the blood of battles, the desires of lovers, and engage with those that are commonplace.”

  “And now you see,” Talah continued, “even the commonplace have needs that are beyond the secular. Far beyond that of any heavenly comfort a simple church can offer from its man-made attempts.”

  “Who is she calling commonplace?” sniffed Brodie. “Why, I—”

  Mac slapped him quiet. “Mind your tone, Brodie. I’d rather not piss off the gods.”

  After a pause Moya looked to Talah with reserved acceptance. “Very well. How then should I do this?”

  Talah let an idea slip into her head. “Remember that strangeness you felt earlier? I would let that speak to you again. Follow its voice, and let it take you where it may. There’s something inherent here that is as simple as breathing.”

  “If you say so.”

  Talah withdrew to allow her to continue. With obvious trepidation, Moya stared at her bag of herbs with a sigh and jogged it slightly. Finally she tied it to her belt with fresh resolution.

  “Well, day’s not getting any lighter. No time to lose, right?”

  Moya pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and with a deep breath started to circle the hearth clockwise. With each step, Talah could see that Moya’s countenance calmed and settled into that which drew itself into her. After the third circle, Moya stopped and raised her hands high above her head. Imbued with Spirit, she then spoke, softly at first.

  “Tremble dawns enshrined in sleep and sweep the floods with bright, noble speech. Rise o’ sylvan South, your streams of honeyed brows, glades ashen and grazed of myrtle, breathe your lofty boughs. Stir thee East, and circle with tempest prayers, unlock saffron showers, still the winds fair. Furrowed vetch-crop, slumber not travailing West, sing the deep hush and howling blood of wolves begot. Drawn from a moon and meadow’s heaven, lustral North plunge pale dusk of storms, rip your seals of seven. Deep, deep enchantments bring, of ages, of tides, of monstrous wings. Ancient spirits, whose fields remain untamable abide you now, we pluck you and arise you—arise unnamable! Cast you, cast you, double down. Cleve us, command us, we hail your crowns!”

  A flash of light so great appeared from the flames Talah and her band of warriors had to cover their eyes. From the quiet of the space came a haunting murmur of simultaneous chanting so beautiful, it grew to echo harmoniously throughout the entire chamber.
As the light withdrew back into the hearth and dimmed, Talah and the others stood with gasped breath. Before them lounged towering, majestic figures of dragons, their formidable eminence staring down upon them. Three dragons all, round about them high upon their ledges and chanting in voices neither male nor female the words of prophecy:

  “It is the time of the Great Cataclysm,” they said repeatedly. “It is the time of tyrants and corruption, of crystals and dragons, of deception, of death, and rebirth. It is the time when the Winged Ones and the Thunder-Beings become one again. When the world will rise up and shake herself of Mankind’s iniquities and the heavens grant her final peace.”

  It was then a heat wave over took the cavern causing all to stagger at its mystical sensation. Silence rode the wave as the dragon forms shape-changed into humans. Standing before her and, in fact, all around her were numerous human forms all dressed in Druidic garments of long, cream-colored robes. Talah twisted about in search for her companions only to find she was alone before this presence. An elder-woman, as if reading her thoughts, approached her with a venerable expression.

  “It is to Ban Talah only we appear,” the woman stated warmly in a voice, which echoed from everyone’s lips.

  Talah couldn’t help but feel as if she were in the presence of the all-seeing, all-knowing of Creation. “You are the Ancient Ones.”

  A smile and soft eyes greeted her and gestured for her to look at a stand before them. Upon the stand lay the mythical Crane Bag. The elder-woman stood before her and gestured to the bag with graceful fingers.

  “A gift from Manannan,” the woman said.

  Talah eyed the host before her, puzzled. “Why did you all not speak as before?”

  The woman’s eyes gleamed softly. “You now hold the wisdom of this knowledge. There is no longer a need.”