The Tales of Amergin, Sea Druid

by Peter Green

  He knelt to watch the unfolding drama in the reflections. MacCuill noticed he had company!

  The Woodland animals came to the water’s edge, all peering into the blue depths... deer, foxes, wolves and bears watched on... the branches full of song birds, accompanied by hawks, falcons, every kind of raptor... a splendorous golden eagle perched high up in the most ancient Yew tree...

  Prey and predator gathered as one... the feared and the fearless in one place. “This is the magic of Derwydd!” uttered MacCuill under his breath.

  An eerie stillness descended as they watched their foe enter the enchanted Woodland of Derwydd.

  Before their eyes, the nature of the place was changing...

  MacCuill noticed that the sacred, ancient Yew trees were slowly oozing a blood red sap. A resin reknowned for its spiritual, magical, mind altering properties...

  As the sap oozed, a now familiar amber mist began to drift in from the west. The woodland canopy was lit up, “This azure blue pool must be connected to the great Portal of Machlleth!” surmised MacCuill. He saw the threatening images of the army of lost souls entering Derwydd. The Guardians were responding, sending the lifegiving light and transforming amber mist from the spirit world.

  Thiorn and his elite guard felt and saw the life giving transformative energy coming forth from the spirit world. They watched as the glowing radiance pulsed and flowed from the portal.

  The all consuming, bewitching amber mist drifted through the Woodland of Derwydd.

  Thiorn warned his elite guard, “The enemy enters Derwydd! Be ready!” Thiorn and his guardsmen were dug in, ready to defend the portal with their lives. They looked on as creatures of all types and shapes, of air and land, took to the wing and to the hoof. The life giving mist exuding from the portal had the power to change life forms in an instant evolutionary process. Life forms were being created purely to defend the portals, to live or die in the cause of the enlightened ones. Stags, horses, wolves morphed into deadly strange evolutionary combinations, fighting to protect the portals in the name of the Guardians of Light. Once the portals had been protected they would return to their normal forms and continue to live in peace in the enthralling, wonderful Woodland of Derwydd.

  “Be witness to the magic of Derwydd my brothers!” exclaimed Thiorn, “Give your lives to the life changing powers of the Portal of Machlleth!”

  With this he saw some of the elite guard transform before his very eyes! They became the legendary and mythical “Horsemen of Derwydd”! Half horse and half man armoured to the hilt, shields, swords and weaponry, with bronze glinting in the glowing radiance. Carried by the drifting, transformative amber mist they galloped towards the ancient Oak groves of Derwydd.

  MacCuill watched transfixed, as he saw in the azure blue pool, how the gentle, nurturing nature of Derwydd took on its ugly defensive mantle. The azure blue pool captured vividly just how deadly Derwydd could become. A salutary thought flashed through his increasingly bewildered mind, “Lose this fight and Derwydd would be condemned to this brutal form, the gentle nurturing side gone!” This shivering, shuddering thought turned MacCuill physically cold. The bluestone pool became a conduit of his emotions, seeming to sense his concern. New images projected into the layered depths of the pool. Visions of the great Portal of Machlleth, the elite guard morphing into the legendary Horsemen of Derwydd, creatures of every kind came galloping, flying and racing towards them.

  MacCuill would lead them into battle. They would go from the azure bluestone pool. They would wait for MacCuacht and his army of lost souls to penetrate deeper and deeper into the Woodlands of Derwydd... Then they would attack!

  The azure blue pool revealed the size and scale of the army of lost souls. Too many to number, they kept on marching, descending into the ancient woodland. On they came...

  Now they would see the real nature of Derwydd! Now they would witness the power of the Guardians! He had been told of the powers of Derwydd as a child. Vivid tales of the imagination, stories of the ancient Woodland of Derwydd. Now these mythical, legendary stories would become reality.

  Thiorn looked on from Machlleth, every creature real and imaginary, normal and transmutated headed directly into Derwydd. Loyalty unbounded, he was ready to die for the cause. Eiru and Terese were already long gone, heading westwards for the distant ocean. More and more creatures, some known and others unknown, poured into the Woodland from the great Portal of Machlleth. The mysterious amber mist swirled around and permeated into Derwydd, an amber cloak bringing metamorphosised obstacles in the way of the army of lost souls.

  MacCuacht marched on, growing stronger and more sinister his entourage were resolute and faithful servants to the dark Sidhe. “They are as black as black, hearts of stone, evil to the core!” he thought, “They will not be turned by the Guardians!” His own dark heart and poisoned veins pulsed in anticipation of the encounter. Banba and Fodha, his two faithful raven haired witches, warned him of the mustering forces, “Sire, we are facing danger on a scale never encountered! Derwydd is a fearsome place once awakened and threatened! The sacred Woodland is protected by the Guardians of Light pouring forth from the Portal of Machlleth... Life forms of mutated evolution will be turned against us... We will be tested as never before!”

  They all gazed into the high canopy, through the strange transforming amber mist, and high, high above to the dark, brooding, menacing turbulence of the ever rolling storm front. Bringing with it the cold, condensing, cloaking, shrouding, moisture laden and drenching fine drizzle. “Derwydd awaits us!” pronounced the malevolent MacCuacht, “We shall see who prevails! We shall see how the veil falls!”

  MacCuill and his gathered creatures of the Woodland, gazed into the azure pool... the army of lost souls approached the “Grove of the Druids.”The perfect place for an ambush! He alerted the growing and morphing troops... an aerial assault first! Falcons, hawks, eagles, vultures, raptors of all kinds... They stooped, dropping from the skies, wings furled, talons bared... razor sharp, slicing, pecking, grabbing... Screams of shock and surprise, shrieks of pain! Pandemonium ensued! Song birds turned eye pecking bandits! Frenzied forces of transformed nature scurried and harried... biting, tearing and lacerating! Next, the assault of the land! Poison ivy wound, wrapped and smothered.Thistles flicked blinding barbs. Twisted, contorted roots of giant magical Oaks erupted out of the soil, constricting and squeezing their prey... Low lying branches whipped and thrashed, flinging their foe to the ground, roots crushing them, while rodents bit and gnawed... The soil soon running red with with blood... Ranks in disarray, the army of lost souls ran now, but with nowhere to go...

  Thundering into the Woodlands next, came the rampaging stampeding, rutting and baying, magnificent red deer stags. Many pronged antlers scything and skewering the panicking dark forces.

  The army of lost souls being out thought and decimated... this was the sign for MacCuill to lead the Horsemen of Derwydd into battle. Armed to the teeth and with the trampling strength of galloping stallions, they struck at the cold hearts of the army of lost souls. Designed to take out MacCuacht, “This was an onslaught full and furious, massed and dangerous, and with the element of surprise, surely no one, nothing, not even the dark one MacCuacht can resist this?”

  MacCuill reckoned without the intervention of the dark Sidhe. The veil between the spirit world and the mortal realm ebbed and flowed.

  The strange magic of Derwydd and the black magic of the dark Sidhe in mysterious confrontation, attack and retaliation! The power of Machlleth, the malevolence of MacCuacht!

  The army of lost souls visibly shaken and on the backfoot... then the shape – shifting, silver cocooned, raven haired witches colluded with MacCuacht, summoning the full fury of the dark Sidhe. The veil was temporarily torn, a rift through which the darkness poured. They cast occultish spells, calling the dark forces from the spirit world.

  Not even the Portal of Machlleth could offer protection now. MacCuill and the creatures of the Light could not resist the co
mbined conjurings of MacCuacht and the two Witches of Hawardden.

  Thiorn and the elite guard sensed a change in the energy of the portal...

  MacCuill, the Horsemen of Derwydd and the creatures of the Light, charged into the fray once more. They were fearless. They struck swiftly and forcefully...

  Still there was a sense of the amber mist dissipating and the portal weakening...Time seemed to be standing still, the tide was turning...

  MacCuill looked down the advancing lines of Horsemen and creatures of the Light... They were making no headway, the sounds of battle quietened...

  He saw MacCuacht and the Witches beckoning to the sky, arms outstretched, they were summoning the rolling, brewing storm front to earth...

  The Horsemen, the stags, all the creatures of the Light, were moving in slow motion, running in quick sand. They made no headway now... The dark Sidhe had been summoned...Pouring from the skies, the rolling tormented storm front enveloped the Woodland of Derwydd, the dank, cold, dense, shrouding mist, drenching and covering every living thing.

  Then the ambushers became the ambushed. The element of surprise lost, the momentum reversed.

  The moment had gone... MacCuacht channelled the demonic storm into the depths of the Woodland. Down through the canopy, down through the Oak groves, down came the demented, turbulent storm front... Tree by giant tree, life was sapped out. The verdant, emerald green turning to a lifeless grey...

  The mist cloaked everything in a smothering, suffocating, stillness...

  MacCuill watched in horror as MacCuacht and the raven haired witches channelled the full fury of the dark Sidhe... He sounded the retreat... They must escape into the spirit world, through the Portal of Machlleth...

  Meeting no resistance, the floodgates were open. The mist became a squall of monstrous intensity, driving, horizontal, cold and freezing, a weather front of such violent intensity! Ancient Oaks, anchored and secured over the millennia, were cast to the ground, roots flailing and branches cracking.

  Living entities now became debris hurtling through the void...

  Then the mother cloud arrived... even darker and more menacing, descending Derwydd into a hellish world. The storm wall twisted and turned. Violent vortices touched down. Dark tendrils turning the myriad shades of green to a lifeless grey, as they consumed old and newly evolved life in a murderous moment!

  Instincts in survival mode, MacCuill and the Horsemen of Derwydd and the creatures of the Light fled from the Woodlands, making for the sanctuary of Machlleth. They chased ahead of the demonic storm front and the twisting, tumultuous tornadoes. Many perished and were turned to the dark.

  Thiorn and his elite guard stood resolutely to protect the Portal, but MacCuill warned him of this futility! They must all pass through the Portal while the life giving light still radiates!

  The storm front was around them now, and as the army of lost souls arrived, they went beyond the thinning and dissipating veil. MacCuacht and the raven haired Witches of Hawardden threatened to pierce the veil... but they were too late! The Portal took in the frantically galloping Horsemen, the transforming creatures of the Light, and finally Thiorn and his elite guard and MacCuill.

  The great Portal of Machlleth, the giver of Divine Light to the Western Province, closed. The veil once close to the mortal realm, returned deep into the spirit world. The enraged dark one had been thwarted! For the moment!

  *

  All those entering the spirit world will remain there until enlightened beings unlocked the Portal with the keystone...

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  SOURCE OF THE DIVINE

  On the fringe of the Northern Ocean, many days march from the Portal of Machlleth, Amergin meditated by the Temple of the Sun. He was acutely aware of the dangers the Milesian tribes were facing. His fellow sea voyagers recuperated, enjoying the rich abundance of this glorious part of the world. They fished the ocean and the rivers. Shoals were so plentiful they appeared to jump on to hooks and self impale on spears. Hunting parties replenished the larder with game and foul.

  The estuary was full of migrating geese at this time of year, just arriving from more northerly breeding grounds. They arrived in great rafts, squadrons in formation, seeking out these plentiful feeding grounds. Wild horses galloped and cantered along the sweeping beaches.

  Amergin revelled in the spectacular beauty of this pristine coastline. In transcendental meditation he began to compose the lyrics of a poem, to capture the sheer unadulterated beauty of this place for posterity. In writing he began to slip into an amber cosmos, communing with the ancients and the Guardians of Light and with the beautiful enlightened being of his destiny, Sceine...

  *

  “Sea Horses and Winter Geese “

  *

  Roaring gales, raging surf, mountains to oceans, heights to depths,

  Senses alive, sea sounds, wind overtures, ozone, seaweed and salt,

  Minerals encrusted, sea salted, tidal surge and ripping currents,

  Living, breathing, ocean alive, harsh, rich, full of life,

  On the edge, shoreline of plenty, sea geese picking,

  Sea birds flocking, dipping, tasting, brine, weed and hoppers,

  Sun light, shafts, searching, riding contours, cloud breaking,

  Bursting, beaming, filling the bay, rising over Temples of the Sun,

  Weather forming, lifting, Mist pouring, summits peaking,

  Breaking, squall driven, light filled, rainbow arching,

  Salted geese, sea horses galloping, chasing oncoming waves,

  Racing the tide, hooves hammered, sand beaten, foam blown,

  Water running, water lying, waters of life, everywhere...

  *

  Amergin sensed that the Great Spirit was with him. The land and the ocean of this fabled island welcomed them. He felt the gentle caress of his destined Sceine. She was always with him now, guiding him, comforting him...

  That evening he would lead his priests of the Chapter of Mystics in prayer at the Temple of the Sun. They would commune with the Guardians of Light and open the portal.

  This was the last great portal before the ocean. Potentially this could be the place of a last stand for the Milesians. They would need all there resourcefulness, energy and spirit in the battles to come...

  Amergin gazed out over the ocean. He sensed the presence of the remaining Milesian fleet offshore. Somewhere near the shimmering offshore islands would be Scota and Milidh. Waiting for his sign to join him... Then the Milesian tribes would march south to meet his destiny...

  He heard a clamour as the scouting party led by his loyal brother Eiremhou returned.

  His gaze was taken by the natural sweep of the bay, over the meadows and coastal marsh land, along the meandering river and inland to the distant woodlands and high conifer forests. He was disturbed that the mountain summits were no longer visible. The storm clouds had enveloped them and were rolling ever downwards through the forests and beyond the foot hills... now they cloaked the verdantly green woodlands... He shivered. He sensed malevolence at work...

  His attention was distracted once more, this time at the rivermouth, “What on earth?!”... Into the estuary swam a silver backed shoal of wild oceanic salmon. They were running with the tide, leaping high and plunging deep! “Grab the nets we are going fishing!” Amergin bolted down to the riverside and jumped into one of the landing boats. Tying a net to the stern, he rowed for all his worth, making a wide arcing course into the estuary ahead of the living, seething shoal, in a race to cut off their escape.

  Amergin strained with every stroke of the oars to get ahead of the shoal. A huge silver scaled Salmon pushed upstream, leading the shoal into the narrowing channel. His furious rowing made the shoal pause, they turned in panic. They thrashed and splashed in the shallows at the opposite bank. The escape route narrowing, stroke by stroke, they would soon be trapped! The king Salmon flexed and flicked its silver shimmering body, and with a thrust of the tail was through the gap.

&n
bsp; Amergin in frustration turned up river. In that instant the net ballooned out into the tidal stream, the shoal were through, swimming free with the pushing tide. The adrenalin of the chase still in his veins, he was determined to follow the king of the Salmon.

  The building tidal flood pushed him back into the mainstream of the river. He untied the net and signalled to those on shore to regather it. A few straggling Salmon were caught by the gill net as they recovered it. The sea drift swept him upstream in the wake of the shoal.The tell tale inverted “V” of the king Salmon as it pushed upstream into the calmer waters. Amergin was still drifting with the tide, giving an occasional stroke and a guiding dip of the oars. His faithful mariners were lost out of sight as he rounded bend after meandering bend.

  The wandering river curved and bent deeper and deeper into the back waters, through marshland and rich pastures. Slowing all the time, past lush meadowlands, drifting on and on with the tide.

  Amergin still followed the “V” of the shoal and king Salmon, as the flooding briny tide met the flowing freshwater river. Where tide and fresh water met, the denser saline stream flowed up river along the river bed. The lighter fresh water flowed downstream towards the ocean.

  Slowly, a whirlpool started to turn, forming, growing in strength. Surging tide and flowing fresh water eddied and circulated. Stronger and stronger it turned. Amergin’s boat was caught, trapped in the swirling river. The fisherman, become bait... He had no control now. Despairingly he pulled at the oars, but to no avail... spinning and spinning in the vortex of tide and river, brine and fresh water. Black bog water and aquamarine sea water, fresh mountain water and silty tidal flow.

  A kaleidoscope of streams and flows...

  Amergin felt the boat rotating and revolving downwards. Soon the boat became immersed, and he was under the surface... but he could breath! Clear water currents and thicker denser saline solutions trapped and warped sunlight. Amergin floated weightless in a strange oxygenated watery world... Through a watery veil he saw the silver scaled king Salmon. The layers of water became crystal clear, and in the transparency he heard a voice gently sounding in his head. He was transfixed by a piercing gaze, “I am here to give you the knowledge you need, and the wisdom you deserve...”