The Tales of Amergin, Sea Druid

by Peter Green

  Meanwhile, Amergin and the rest of the fleet sailed on swiftly. They had already reached the outer islands. They tacked and turned directly north, once again being pushed by wind and tide. Amergin was delighted that such good progress was being made. He stood at the helm with Xomas as they rounded the most southerly point on the most southerly of the outer islands.

  Exposed reefs and pounding surf came in to view. On one of the reefs stood a wreck, one of the poor victims of this storm bound coast or maybe one of the victims of the Pirates of Grannh?!

  The coast changed now, from the low but rugged windswept limestone carst to precipitous cliffs rising two hundred feet sheer out of the ocean. The island was a mirror image of the topography of the main land. The fleet sailed at a rate of knots now. The tide and the ever increasing wind pushing them on and on...

  The limestone cliffs rose higher and higher. A few miles to the north, the cliffs at least four hundred feet, an edifice had been carved out of the seaward side of the vertical rock face. Amergin took the helm from Xomas, “We must take a closer look at this!” As one, the entire fleet sailed towards the base of the mighty cliffs and directly under the structure. The swell from the west was steadily building.They would not get too close this time! The encounter with the violent down blast and the disasterous experience on the reef at the Sea Hag of the North, made Amergin and the entire Milesian fleet very wary. A good half mile out, in good visibility, they could clearly see the extraordinary edifice hewn out of the rock, clearly the work of an ancient civilisation.

  They could see a rock platform, some kind of altar, a place of worship and possibly sacrifice. Beyond, high defensive walls made of massive, square blocks of limestone. This was an impregnable fortress, from the ocean at least.

  Amergin peered upwards, squinting in to the now rising sun, but found it difficult to focus with the rolling motion in the building swell. He began to feel the turbulence from the swell reflecting and rebounding from the base of the cliff. He handed the tiller back to Xomas so he could get a steady positive look at the fortress. As he feared! The defences were manned! Armoured soldiers were on watch! They marched with pikes and spears along the perimeter wall. They were on watch and the fleet had been spotted! They hurried and scurried in to action! A beacon was lit on the rock platform and the sound of conches resonated around the cliffs. This must be the island base, the head quarters and fortress of the Pirates of Grannh! And they would be coming for the Milesian fleet!

  Amergin was confident that with the element of surprise, and the fact that they sailed with the wind and the tide, that the fleet would be safe. Then another beacon and another beacon lit up the coast line. For miles, from promontory to promontory, more beacons... they were not safe! “We must head for the open ocean! We must be battle ready!” This time the Milesian conches were heard. The alarm sounded and all the crews manned their positions. The fleet tacked hard and turned away from the coast. The open water and deep ocean would surely be their salvation.

  The further out in the ocean they sailed, the more islands that came in to view. On each island a beacon was lit! “There must be a hundred islands along this coast!” Amergin shared with Xomas, “The stronghold of the Pirates of Grannh!” Soon a network of beacons lit up the entire chain of outer islands, as far as the eye could see.

  “Disasterous!” Amergin despaired, “We must take our advantage and sail deep in to the Northern Ocean! This strengthening south-wester could save us!” Xomas agreed, the fleet should out run the Pirates of Grannh with this kind of start.

  Within minutes twin masted pirate vessels were launched and under full sail. They edged out of the channel between the islands. Their distinctive red sails and high prowed design, perfect for ocean sailing. The Pirates of Grannh in full force, twenty vessels, now there were thirty... more and more appeared from isles and islets stringing out to the North.

  The Milesian fleet sailed for their lives! Surely the master mariners of Milesia would out sail these pirates. Amergin, Xomas and MacCuill watched as the vessels at the head of the fleet were out running the pirates. They were all distressed at the sight of the vessels in the rear guard slowly losing distance. The Pirates of Grannh were on an intercept course! The turning ebbing tide forcing out between the islands were projecting them directly in to their path. “We cannot stop! Our mission is our priority! We cannot fight and defend the others! We must press on!” this was most unlike Amergin, but the circumstances dictated this, it was a case of every vessel for them selves! His compatriots looked on. This was the toughest of decisions. Usually he would fight to the death...

  On cue the wind strengthened. To compound their woes the coming storm! They were under full sail and were racing through the building seas. Spray and spume filled the air. The fleet desparately reaching for the deep ocean, the sails, rigging and sheets finely tuned, taking the strain. They were flying, at a breathtaking rate of knots! So too were the Pirates of Grannh. Their hydrodynamically shaped hulls sliced through the water. The back runners of the fleet were in peril!

  The Milesian fleet were strung out in a wide sweeping arc, forcing ahead, surfing the swell, riding the gusting squalls, no matter how they pressed on, the Pirates of Grannh were catching!

  Amergin estimated that the intercept line would put at least ten of the Milesian vessels in jeopardy.

  “They will have to take up a rear guard action! There will be enough to make a stand!” he coldly expressed to his helmsman Xomas. They were both aware that these few will be like lambs to the slaughter. The sacrifice of the few for the greater cause! And so the scenario unfolded, a slow motion naval battle, an unbalanced engagement with a deadly end...

  The lead vessels pressed on and on, in to the deep water of the Northern Ocean. They kept tacking in to the north-west for maximum advantage, away from the Pirates of Grannh, the passage around the Northern Province still their mission... This was a sea borne chess game, the fleet on an escape route and the Pirates of Grannh on an intercept course. The straggling rearguard the pawns, sacrifices to the end game...

  More twin masted, red sailed ships appeared in the channels between the islands. They would soon be vastly out numbered! Amergin stood at the helm in a proud gesture of defiance. They sailed for the horizon, the only place of safety! Closer and closer the intercepting pirates came! Given the line and distance, the sea state and wind strength, now eight vessels were at risk! The captains of these vessels soon realised that their flight was futile. They could not out run the Pirates of Grannh!

  They started to close ranks, take up defensive lines. On a hell for leather, escape run they would be picked off one by one. Their training, master mariner’s one and all, and their experience in battle made even these eight ships a formidable foe. Eight ships gathered in formation. The remaining fleet still fleeing for the safety of the deep ocean, two of them were intercepted. A barrage of flesh and leather armour piercing arrows took down most of the crew. Grappling hooks and ropes tethered the vessels and they were both boarded. The remaining few were slaughtered, either spiked by eight foot pikes or sliced by slashing swords. These Milesians were hopelessly outnumbered, but they were valiant in defeat. Amergin could not look. He had to turn away. Milesians were being sacrificed and slaughtered and he could do nothing...

  His strategy of sending Forsien to negotiate with the Shamen of Land’s End and perhaps to form an alliance with the Pirates of Grannh had failed, too late for these brave souls. Amergin fell to his knees. He prayed to the Great Spirit. He prayed for the remaining eight vessels about to engage in a deadly battle. He prayed to the Guardians of Light. He used his Druidic powers to commune with the enlightened ones and most of all he called to Sceine to use her powers to save the desparate crews of the beleaguered vessels. Amergin felt the connection with the spirit world. Even here in the deep ocean, far from the portals of the Western Province, he was able to manipulate and penetrate the veil between the mortal realm and the spirit world. He felt the energy of the Guardians of Lig
ht and he could feel Sceine’s presence, “My love, look around you! We are with you!” Amergin gazed up towards the heavens. He felt the rapturous presence of his destined one... he looked across the ocean as a pure radiant light filled the air. A radiant, brilliant, lifegiving, energising light poured from the site of the ancient fortress carved into the precipitous cliff. He felt the veil wrapping and enveloping him, bringing the spirit world in to the mortal realm. The altar was a portal!

  The fortress carved out of the rock by an ancient race had become the stronghold of the Pirates of Grannh. This was a portal of great power beyond the realm of the dark one MacCuacht. Amergin heard the soothing encouragement of his beloved Sceine, “Go my love! You must sail northwards! Your crew will soon join you in your intrepid journey. Go!”

  Amergin watched as the Pirates of Grannh, in shock and awe, put their weapons down and fell to their knees. As a man they prayed with hands clasped, dropping their heads in the direction of the ancient portal. They prayed to this new and powerful deity. They had been touched by the Light of the Divine, like the Shamen of Land’s End far to the north they had been in the presence of the Guardians of Light. The Pirates of Grannh felt the life giving and this instance, the life saving force.

  The defensive lines of the eight vessels broke formation, and they sailed free! The Pirates of Grannh were converted to the cause! Amergin smiled broadly, should Forsien have managed to strike an alliance with the Shamen of Land’s End, they will be preaching to the converted here!

  The eight vessels fully rigged sailed to join the Milesian fleet once more.

  Reality soon returned with the oncoming weather front and the strengthening, backing wind. Xomas alerted Amergin, “A storm is brewing my lord! The wind is backing to the south-east! A gale is coming!” Amergin nodded in agreement, “We must head back to the coast. Maybe now we can take the route inside the islands! There we can find some shelter!” Xomas took the helm, gladdened to be making for calmer waters, and together with the eight rescued vessels.

  They were all saddened and consumed with a bitter sweet emotion... they had lost two of their vessels and their crew, but the mission was still alive as were the crews of the eight vessels...

  Amergin’s attention was drawn to the islands and the distant portal. He still felt Sceine’s presence...His mind drifted... Amergin knew Sceine was still in mortal danger...

  CHAPTER NINETEEN:

  THE DEITIES OF DUBH

  “The connection grows stronger!” Sceine whispered under her breath. Her bond with Amergin was otherworldly, spiritual and verging on the Divine. But oh so sensuous, so real! Rapturous!

  Sceine was overcome with emotion. Amergin was safe! She sensed he was sailing north once more!

  She also sensed that MacCuacht was on his evil way. He marches to the Temple of Xhara. All she could do now was to pray for Amergin’s safe journey and for him to come safely to her...

  Should MacCuacht prevail... all was lost!

  Sceine stood on the battlements of the high mountain fortress of Sliebh Mis in the panoramic beauty of the Iveare Mountains and the spectacular glory of the Western Province.

  This day she would travel to the great Portal of Hushinish with some of her priests. She felt heartened by the connection with and help sent to Amergin. This was a day for communing with all the enlightened beings of the mortal realm, a day for bringing the Guardians of Light through the veil and in to the Western province and a day for ensuring that all her loyal subjects were safe. Sceine was cognisant of the dangers that could yet befall them.

  Her party would travel light and quickly, half a day’s journey to Hushinish. They would make camp for the night and return to the fortress of Sliebh Mis the following day. Sceine had already had the foresight to send a troop of elite guard to Hushinish. The great portals of the Western Province must all be protected at all costs...Sceine could not be away from the fortress of Sliebh Mis for long, she would be in grave danger away from the protective battlements of the mountain fortress. Sceine revelled in the march to Hushinish, a route of unimaginable beauty. She and her group, comprising of her priests and elite guard would take the high mountain ridge from Sliebh Mis.Then they would descend in to the Valley of the Mad.

  Legend has it that an ancient race of invaders met predecessors of hers in a great sea battle. The invaders were then driven to this valley to lick their wounds and heal their despairing souls. Sceine could always feel a sense of desperation and loss in this place. The beauty and tranquillity of the valley could never appease the scale of losses incurred in that great battle. Sceine felt the despair again this time. Now though there was another presence, the evil emissaries of MacCuacht were approaching! She could not tell exactly, but she knew they were near. Whoever they were, they are able to cloak themselves from her clairvoyant powers. They must be strong!

  Who are these beings!? Questions now about the journey to Hushinish running through her mind, should she return to Sliebh Mis? From here they would ascend to the Ridge of Thormond. To Sceine this ridge was an earthly representation of the veil. On the southern and western sides, views that swept on forever.Transcendant light shows as the sun illuminated distant mountain ranges and forests, then sweeping bays, golden beaches and the infinite ocean. On the northern and eastern side, a precipitous drop in to the glacially carved corrie, the dark mysterious depths of a mirror surfaced fresh water lake. Cold, frigid water as clear as crystal, only touched by sunlight at mid day and in the winter months always dark.

  This lake, known as Dubh to the ancients, was a place of pilgrimage and sacrifice. Beside the lake was a slab of ancient, weathered red sandstone. Here, ritual ceremomies took place at the Summer Solstice to deities of harvest, fertility and abundance. The same slab was a site of gruesome atrocities and sacrifice at the Winter Solstice, appeasing the harbingers of death and disease. Trace memories of the ancient Winter Solstice rituals made Sceine’s skin crawl. She questioned how any being, enlightened or not could possibly commit such atrocities. Animal and human sacrifices to appease dark deities! Her body shivered...

  This time, as she walked to the knife edge Ridge of Thormond, the symbolism of the veil was even more poignant. A wrong step and she could tumble in to the depths, lost forever. Sceine and her priests took particular care on this journey, placing one foot at a time, carefully and meticulously, the ever changing, transforming light shows to the south and west guiding and enlightening them.

  Soon they were across the ridge and were in the high wilderness of heather and moorland. They stopped at prehistoric boglands to cut turf in a time honoured ritual, a tradition for those on a pilgrimage to the Portal of Hushinish. Sceine and her party would have sufficient turf cuttings for a night of prayer and meditation. Pilgrims leave surplus turf cuttings in mounds of stacked and wind dried sculptures. This high and wind swept plateau was no place to be without fuel to burn, to warm the soul and ward off the creatures and demons of the night.

  Two hours march, gently climbing to the highest outcrop, a rocky protrusion standing high and mighty, rugged and spectacular with panoramic views to elevate the soul.

  Sceine felt she could touch the heavens at this place. She stood transfixed in front of the giant bluestone gatestones and capstone of the miraculous Portal of Hushinish, the most southerly of the great portals in the Western Province.

  Sceine recalled her previous battle here with MacCuacht. This time the outcome could be very different. This night she would commune with Amergin, to strengthen him, to support him, to give him her undying love on his journey to intercept MacCuacht. Only together will they possibly be strong enough to match MacCuacht’s dark powers. Should the priesthood of Xhara be corrupted the future of the Island of Destiny will hang in the balance!

  She reached out to touch the gatestones. She could feel her powers strengthening, her connection with the Sea Druid Amergin growing. Tonight she will commune with him... her pulse raced... going beyond the veil with him was so real, so sensuous and so rapturous! S
he touched the gatestone, a charge of earthing pulsing energy surged through her very core. She was becoming one with Amergin... she felt him inside her...“Tonight my love!”...she came too as one of her priests took her hand...

  The priest Diarmuid brought her in to a human chain surrounding the Portal, “The sunset arrives, my lady! We must be ready!” Diarmuid was the gentlest, most loyal of her priestly servants.

  Sceine came back to the mortal realm momentarily. He stared in to her dilated eyes, her shallow rapid breathlessness... he had seen this state of bliss in her before. Her bond with Amergin was so strong! Diarmuid was being drawn in to an amber cosmos as the priesthood and the High Priestess Sceine chanted sacred, ancient verse. They felt the veil drawing closer. He tightened his grip on Sceine’s hand, “We must contact the enlightened ones of the Western Province my lady! We must be united and ready for the onslaught of the dark one from the east!”

  Sceine led the ceremony. As the orange and crimson red orb descended to the Western horizon, she chanted the ancient verse, her priests chanting in chorus. They all started rhythmically beating ceremonial bodhran. The wooden frame of the bodhran was carved from the sacred Rowan tree that grows from igneous outcrops in the Iveare Mountains. Each tree had its own unique grain and conductive, resonant qualities. The Rowan tree is the tree of true poetic inspiration. Stretched across the frame is the skin of the Sliebh Mis Mountain goat. The finished instrument of hypnotic timbre was beaten with a stick carved from the ancient Oaks of Derwydd.

  The rhythm, the chanting, the slowly setting sun... they could all feel the veil drawing ever closer... radiant, pure light pouring forth from the portal as the glowing sun touched the distant shimmering horizon of the infinite Northern Ocean. The alignment with the setting sun produced a pulse of radiant, lifegiving energy that bathed the entire Western Province. The veil between mortal realm and spirit world touched all the great portals of the Western Province synchronicitously.