The Tales of Amergin, Sea Druid

by Peter Green

  Before he could ask the question, his expression had betrayed him. Unless the priests were mind readers too! “You wonder about the influence of the dark Sidhe in this place, my lord?” Yanis asked curiously, “Here we bask in the Light of the Divine. We are in the Shire of the Rising Sun. Perhaps the purest land imaginable outside of the Temple of Xhara! Since the time of the ancients this land has been blessed by the presence of the Guardians of Light.” Yanis swept his hand in an extravagant gesture towards the Temple of Xhara... In his flambuoyance, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks... His enthusiastic expression became one of numbed disbelief. Surely his eyes deceived him!

  “My lord Amergin, I fear we may be too late!” In shock, he fell to his knees. His fellow priest Cos, soon followed. Before them, back towards the West, the fertile Plains of Gobhain, a green, verdant and almost iridescent land bathed in the morning sunlight.Beyond this to the north-west on a dramatic outcrop of igneous rock, the Temple of Xhara, still pulsing in the radiant Light of the Divine. Amergin’s first vision of the Temple of Xhara was a disturbing one. The sacred place etched in the minds and hearts of all enlightened beings was being surrounded by an encroaching wall of lifeless grey mist, rolling down from the Mountains of Iveare. The verdant Plains of Gobhain were starting to be consumed. The Temple of Xhara would be next!

  All joined in prayer. They called on the Great Spirit to bring salvation to the Temple of Xhara...

  All the thoughts of goodwill and all the prayers were of no good to the tribes of the Plains and the High Priests of the Temple of Xhara...

  The waters of life had been contaminated. Every spring and every holy well had been infected by the dark pestilence. On the very day that Yanis and Cos left for the eastern coast, holy men and women had started to fall prey to the dark infection. There was no protection! Even in the Inner Sanctum!

  The Tree of Life showed signs of disease. Akin to an early autumn, leaves were being shed. Some of the priests became infected, losing their powers of prayer and meditation. They could no longer commune with the Guardians of Light...

  All of the enlightened beings and priests and priestesses uninfected by the dark pestilence, gathered at the Temple of Xhara. The veil was so close. The Cycle of Xustra had commenced. The danger of the dark Sidhe intruding in to the mortal realm was real and potentially imminent. As one they stepped beyond the veil. The connection between the spirit world and the mortal realm was broken...

  Amergin was only too aware that he was watching the closure of the most sacred portal on the Island of Destiny. He heard the weeping and wailing of the priests, Yanis and Cos, as they bore witness to the divine radiance weakening and dwindling. All of the Milesian mariners and warriors stood with heavy hearts, not only saddened but distraught with a sense of calamity. The priests of the Chapter of Mystics questioned their own faith. This was the greatest catastrophe to befall them on their journey of destiny.

  Amergin continued to watch from this highest vantage point. He had seen verdant iridescence being consumed by a pall of grey lifelessness. He had seen the Temple of Xhara closing. His nemesis arrives! Amergin had no choice now. A lightning bolt of realisation... he must journey on... sail south in to uncharted waters... he must go to his beloved Sceine... together they must fight for the sacred Western Province!

  With the gathering strength of the dark Sidhe, there was no doubt now that MacCuacht would march for Sliebh Mis. Sceine was in danger... the threat greater than ever!

  The dawning of this reality fuelled his resolve. He prayed, “Great Spirit, protect us on our journey south. Give us the strength and courage to face the demons and denizens of the dark Sidhe. May the sea god Manannan look over us and give us safe passage. May the waves of the ocean and the Light of the eternal sun guide us to our destination and bring salvation to the Promised Land!”

  Xomas, his loyal helmsman, Xesu of the Chapter of Mystics, Yanis and Cos, priests of the Temple of Xhara, MacCuill, the enlightened sibling of the dark one MacCuacht and Amergin’s own faithful brother Eiremhou, bowed their heads in contemplation and prayer.They and the Milesian warriors prayed for the souls of the tribes of the Eastern Province and the priests of the Temple of Xhara.

  There was a cold starkness about the day now. The pure radiance of the Temple of Xhara extinguished. In the quiet moments, in isolation, each and every one of them were scared, in the cold light of day, even as the sun rose to its mid day zenith, they felt exposed, vulnerable to the menace of the dark Sidhe. They were the prey now... they must leave this peaceful enclave on the eastern shores of the Island of Destiny. The army of lost souls will soon be on the march again... they must sail in to uncharted seas...

  Once more the Sea Druid Amergin must take up the mantle of leader and champion. He had caught a glimpse of the cold stark truth. Xhara had been compromised, the temple grey and lifeless. He turned and marched past the smouldering embers of the beacon fire, lit with such hope and expectancy and now doused with harsh reality. He began the long march to the coast, his loyal Milesians following, subdued and fearful.

  MacCuill walked next to him, his wisdom and knowledge will be much needed. They stepped carefully down the side of Beacon Mountain, all the while engaged in conversation about the journey to come.

  Amergin looked down the eastern coastal plain. He wondered what might befall them on this leg of the circumnavigation of the Promised Land. MacCuill ventured to give his wisdom, “We have no choice but to sail south my lord. We have a fair wind that will take us swiftly to the Headland of Sorn, maybe a days sailing from here. We will enter the realm of the Diventii. This realm is uncharted. The Diventii are a tribe of magical Druids descended from the ancient ones.”Amergin’s expression changed. He too had heard of tales of ancient Druids coming to this land in the mists of time. MacCuill continued, “No one has ever entered this realm and returned to tell the tale. The Diventii give their allegiance to the water goddess Soulis... In this realm water is the Divine conduit. There are many mariner’s tales of ritual sacrifice to appease the sea and water gods... the word is that to enter this realm without consent is foolhardy... for the uninitiated and unprepared it is a death sentence!”

  “The Island of Destiny never fails to disappoint!” retorted Amergin, “We have fair weather as we sail south to the Headland Sorn. We must use our time well! We must become initiated! We must be prepared!”

  Amergin was intrigued by the tale. It was reminiscent of the Milesian tales of the ancient ones who had travelled before them in millenia past, the same ancient ones who had arrived on the shores of Galicia and told of the Island of Destiny. These ancient ones had imbued modern Milesians with a sense of destiny and a sense of unity, a unity of spirit, a collective mythology and a sense of national identity. Legend has it that these ancient Druids, the ancestors of modern day Milesians, had sailed the infinite Northern Ocean, discovered the Promised Land, never to return...

  These Diventii, Amergin wondered... were they the tribe descended from the ancient ones? The ones who had determined his own mission in life and determined his nation’s sense of destiny? The ancients who communicated with the spirit world? The ones who were destined to bring all enlightened beings together and to bring him to his beloved Sceine…

  The fleet sailed on a southerly course, tacking occasionally in the still favourable and constant North Wester. In the lee of the mountains, the weather remained benign, the seas calm. The land itself seemed benign, free of the influence of the dark Sidhe. The darkness pervading the rest of the Eastern Province had not encroached here yet. This was an enclave of peace and serenity. Even with the portal at the Temple of Xhara closed, there was real tranquility here. They seemed beyond the reach of the dark one MacCuacht. The dark brooding storm clouds and foul pestilence seemed a world away. The mission to reach Sceine was the ultimate priority, but Amergin was becoming increasingly preoccupied by the tale of the Diventii. “Was this the realm of the Diventii?! Were they the ancestors of the ancient Druids?!”

  T
he tale told of their allegiance to the water goddess. Water the Divine conduit...

  On reflection Amergin had never seen such clear pristine water before, than in this realm. He pondered on this... there must be a connection between the water and the pestilence! How did the Temple of Xhara fall so easily? Amergin became convinced that this realm was so tranquil and so peaceful, the link to the waters of life as the conduit of the Divine.

  A days sailing and the Headland of Sorn appeared on the horizon, and what a days sailing! The fleet in all its glory planed in unison on a reach to the south, the fresh invigorating sea air and the sparkling brilliance of reflected sunlight on cresting waves.For the moment the darkness that overwhelmed the Temple of Xhara forgotten. Amergin took up his favourite position on the prow.

  He lived for the sea. His veins were infused with salt water. He breathed a heady mixture of ozone and brine. His cup of natural optimism was filling once more. He revelled in the inspiration of the ocean. Ecstatic to be sailing on a voyage that takes him to Sceine. The Light of the Divine filled his soul. Amergin was inspired, lyrical verse poured from him...

  *

  Free spirit, Go beyond the wilderness and the mountains,

  Soar to infinity, over streams, woods and the wild, wild sea.

  Find your nature discover your truth and the peace within.

  Bring your inspiration send the world your grace and beauty.

  Rise above, rise and be free, soar to the headiest heights.

  Bring only joy … give the world your blessing and journey beyond.

  *

  The verse was his mantra… For blissful moments he fell in to a deep meditative trance. He journeyed out of his body, beyond the veil. He journeyed to the spirit world where he was shown ancient rituals of the Diventii by the Guardians of Light, rituals that would appease the pagan gods of the waters of life. The clear, pure water became the conduit of the Divine. He was in the presence of enlightened beings. He was in the deepest trance when his beloved Sceine came to him... she caressed and massaged him... she was in his soul... he was overcome with blissful ecstacy... for a virtual moment their bodies entwined, their souls became as one. For a virtual moment that felt like an eternity, they embraced, they touched, they kissed, they came together, “I am with you my beloved! Come to me!”... A vision of beauty, Sceine smiled, touched his fingertips, now encrusted with the salt of the ocean spray... A set wave broached the prow of his ship consuming him in a fine drenching ocean spray... he was back in the mortal realm... Amergin smiled once more...

  The sailing was so good, the Headland of Sorn reared up in no time at all, the landscape so different now. The cloud-touching summits of the Mountains of Braie were well off their stern. Amergin observed with great curiosity, a line of carved totems on the cliff edge facing to the east. “They must be totems to the goddess Soulis, celebrating the sunrise,” he mused. The closer to the Headland of Sorn the fleet got, the more the detail on the totems became apparent. The totems were carved Bluestone. Carved so intricately and precisely in to giant heads, each one facing to a slightly different horizon. Xomas speculated, “They appear to face sunrise at the solstices and equinoxes my lord.” He pointed to one that faced exactly at the point of sunrise at the autumn equinox. Amergin agreed. He gave instructions to his crew to tack to the open ocean to avoid the inevitable turbulence at the confluence of two seas, as they rounded the Headland of Sorn.

  This dramatic, spectacular red sandstone peninsula marked the end of the protection afforded to them from the long distance ground swell. A white line of spume, a thermocline, two ocean currents colliding with slightly different temperature and salinity, swept out to sea. Well offshore now, they tacked again. Predictably, out of the lee of the headland, they started to roll in a half mast high swell. A frenzied rip tide current tossed and turned them. The fleet struggled to make headway for a while, drifting further away from shore. Finally, they were ejected out of the turbulence and in to a cleaner wind. The North Wester grabbed the billowing sails and sent them swiftly in to the south-west. They had an uninterrupted view of the uncharted coast line now. The reputation of the Diventii as an ancient tribe of Druids practicing live sacrifices to appease the goddess Soulis had kept all at bay. This was certainly in the forefront of Amergin and his crew as they sailed towards the shore.

  The coastline unfolded before them in its spectacular glory, the low trajectory of the evening sun bathing the hills and forests and steep sided mountains in a golden light. The red sandstone cliffs of the Headlands of Sorn gave way to a landscape of coves and beaches. Amergin stood watchfully at the prow. The entire fleet had navigated through the turbulent waters off the Headland of Sorn. His mission was to get to the Western Province by the quickest route possible. They faced in to a stronger wind which was veering in to the west. The groundswell came from the west too. These were difficult sailing conditions. Amergin went to his helmsman, “We have a decision to make Xomas. Do we sail West in to this wind and in to this building swell? There are no charts for this coast, but by our astral positioning, MacCuill reckons on three days sailing and with these conditions worsening maybe a good deal more!” Xomas gave his reckoning, “Even when we get to the Bay of Sceine, which may take a long time in these challenging and worsening seas, we have two days march to the Portal of Hushinish and then more to the high mountain fortress of Sliebh Mis... Surely the option to land at the first navigable landing place must be considered.” They both pondered this... the long march through the uncharted realm of the Diventii, troubled them both...

  The helmsman further considered their predicament... the endless coastline of bays and headlands and mountain ranges sweeping down to the sea as far as the eye could see. Beyond the horizon and even further still, the tops of high mountain ranges, “Going west is the long option my lord... sailing in to this strengthening westerly and no doubt building swell... time, weather and sea are against us!” He needed to say no more! Amergin announced, “We will land at the first safe anchorage and march on to the Western Province!”

  MacCuill’s facial expression showed his concern, “What of the Diventii? Their magic and their cruel reputation go before them!” Amergin was fully aware of their reputation for live sacrifice. He made his choice. The strategy to march to the Western Province had been made, “We will go by stealth. We will avoid confrontation. Our mission is no concern of the Diventii. I will go with an advance party to forge the way... Ours is the way of peace!”

  Amergin’s resolve and conviction inspired them all. They went away without question, the rest of the crew were informed of the decision and messages mirrored to the rest of the fleet.

  Amergin remained at the prow, the late evening sun bathing him and the flagship in a welcome, warming reflective glow. He would find that anchorage and safe haven. As they sailed westwards he, his crew and the watchmen aloft looked to the land. Massive round topped mountains soared to the heavens. Ancient red sandstone weathered and eroded by wind and rain over time, creating a monumental landscape of stacks and ravines. Waterfalls plunged hundreds of feet and streams carved deep in to the red earthed hillsides. Crystal clear streams flowing rapidly in to a grateful ocean, “This is the land of the Diventii. Were they the tribe of ancient Druids?” Amergin’s curiosity was tinged with apprehension.

  He would lead an advance party. His mission to find a safe route... but he was determined to find out about the Diventii...

  On the sky line, the range of massive round topped mountains was abruptly interrupted by a canyon that penetrated deep inland, a fault line creating landslips and erosion over millennia. Here was a natural gap through the mountains. He pointed the canyon out to his crew, “This could be the way!”

  Amergin alerted the watchmen, “Find us the anchorage and safe haven we need! Be vigilant!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX:

  THE REALM OF THE DIVENTII

  The Diventii watched the Milesian fleet from the secrecy of woodland that fringed a sheltered bay. The Miles
ian fleet rounded another headland. Amergin let out a grateful yell, “We have found our safe anchorage!”

  The bay, with a southern aspect, trapped and reflected the late evening sun over golden sands, surrounded by verdant woodland. Amergin noticed a dense grove of ancient Oaks in the hinterland of the beach, “If the Diventii are in this realm... they will most certainly be here!”

  The quality of the light, the beach, the woodland, the backdrop of the massive round topped mountains, gave this place an ethereal otherworldly ambience. Amergin felt the hackles on the nape of his neck rise... they were being watched!

  The ten men chosen for the advance party rowed to shore in two boats. They were on full alert.

  They rowed strongly, Amergin leading them. Even before the first of the landing boats touched the shore, Amergin leapt in to the knee deep water, guiding the keel in to the soft, fine grained golden amber sands. Cresting waves broke gently on the shore, dissipating harmlessly after their thousand mile journey...

  The plan... to make for the canyon... Once safely there, they would light a beacon to send for the rest of the Milesian mariners.

  The ten and Amergin stepped purposefully through the dry, crunching sand and through the marram grassed dunes. Sea thistles and scrubby shore land plants gave way to a velvet carpet of moss and clover and the three leaved shamrock, rabbits everywhere, scattering as they marched through. The first, twisted, wind sculpted Oak marked the beginning of the dense, wooded hinterland. A startled hare bolted from its form, escaping in a bounding, mazing, elusive run.