Morrighan's Champion

by C.S. Fanning

during the years when the Danes tried to take our eastern lands, he took steps to insure his line against other attempts. He needed his heir with him, for political reasons but he had another son from his second marriage, as most of you will remember. The story was put out that the child died in infancy, but the truth was that the prince, along with a several trusted retainers of the king’s guard, their families, and a wet nurse were sent to the sleepy little village of Bretharc to keep the prince safe and anonymous to the enemies of the realm. I was given these to verify the child’s paternity and lineage of the prince should the need arise” he said pulling out a worn leather satchel and laying out six sealed scrolls. “One each for the four high lords of the provinces, one for Mellan though Riordan will have to accept it in his place, and on for the prince himself should he be called upon to accept his father’s throne.

  I know not what is contained in these scrolls, but Finbarr placed them in my own hands just a little over fifteen years hence with instructions to pass them to the recipients only if the need arose. I believe it has.”

  “Who are you to have been so entrusted?” Lord Donegal asked, intrigued.

  “Gareth Longford, second son of Aethelfirth Longford, and first sword of the king’s guard of Finbarr the third” he replied.

  Aeden sat back in his chair, completely caught unaware by this disclosure. He caught his father’s eye for just a moment, and the look he saw their conveyed both regret and a promise of explanations to come.

  Donegal studied him for a moment before turning to eye Aeden and his sword. “I see the resemblance, let us see what further proofs the old king would think to convince us with.”

  Gareth handed the scrolls to the lords and to Riordan. Each of the lords inspected the seal upon their scroll before breaking them to read the contents. Riordan read through the scroll he had been given, handing it to Finnis who scanned the writing looking surprised at what was written their but saying nothing.

  Aeden watched the lords as they read the scrolls they had been handed. Lord’s Kerry and Kildare looked amazed at what they read, Lord Donegal chuckled loudly at what was written, and to everyone’s amazement and consternation Lord Roscommon rose and walked to a great brazier lit against the coming night and tossed in the scroll given him with a somber look.

  “Roscommon, do you reject that this is the true king’s will?” Donegal demanded an edge of challenge in his voice. It was clear that he at least was convinced.

  “I do not Donegal, but I prefer that the proofs Finbarr left to me be for my eyes alone.”

  “And you gentlemen?” Donegal asked looking at the other recipients.

  “Aye it is the will of Finbarr, and likely the only way to insure peace” said Lord Kerry.

  “Let us have the young man brought in and crown him upon the morning sun” said Lord Kildare, his statement half jest and half question.

  “Gareth of Longford, you have not yet revealed the identity of the prince. Are we to understand that he survived the traumatic events of the past few years? Many of those living in the village live no more” Riordan asked.

  Gareth smiled. “He has not been in Bretharc since his Nameday almost two years hence. In fact, he left the same day you did.”

  Riordan looked at Aeden and the two of them stared at each other. Both knew he couldn’t be referring to them, and Quinn was lost. Almost in perfect unison they asked “Faolan?”

  “The very one” Gareth said, chuckling. “All the while the Sorginak tracked you two and Fianna, they failed to recognize that the true king of Eire was fighting alongside you. I believe that the people of Bretharc should be rewarded for doing their job so well.”

  Aeden couldn’t believe that his best friend was heir to the king. Fianna smiled over at Faolan who was sitting, mouth open in shock, and punched Aeden in the shoulder. “Faolan was born to be king! All he ever wanted was to the friend of the great Aeden, and now he will rule all of Eire!” she said laughing like a drunken soldier.

  Aeden wasn’t sure why Fianna found this so funny, but he laughed along with her as he clasped his hand on Faolan’s shoulder. Suddenly he had a sobering thought, “if the old king was his father, who is Curt?” he asked, wondering about the man who had raised Faolan as his own.

  Aeden’s own father looked at him for a moment as if weighing the reason for the question before saying “Curt is Lady Anne’s brother and rightfully Faolan’s uncle.”

  In short order the man Faolan knew as father was brought before the council. Curt said little, but stood behind Faolan, hands upon his shoulder as the council asked him to explain his part in the old king’s plan. Aeden feared that Faolan might feint so ashen was his face. When it was finished he turned to Curt. “Thank you for being my father” he said hugging the man tight.

  Lord Donegal rose, and walked before Faolan. With a speed belied by his great size, Donegal drew his sword. The great blade arched over Faolan’s head and everyone in the room tensed. There was no time to save the prince, but a dozen swords moved to avenge him.

  The only person in the pavilion that didn’t react was Faolan himself, who looked into Donegal’s eyes unblinking. Donegal’s slice cut nothing but air and when his great sword stopped moving it was extended hilt first to Faolan and the Bear of the North had taken a knee.

  “Allow me the honor of being the first to pledge my sword to you my king” Donegal said, bowing his wooly head.

  The tension of those gathered evaporated like fog before the morning sun, and the last light of day shown through the clouds to illuminate the pair. Faolan took the sword with a measure of grace Aeden had not known his friend to possess, and tapped the big man on the shoulder saying “arise Lord Donegal, hereby named Protector of the Realm.”

  In succession, each lord present presented himself with somewhat less flourish, but no less grace and each was received in kind. Gareth stood before the new king next smiling down on him. “My sword and spear are yours to command my king” he said, taking a knee before Faolan.

  Curt leaned forward, whispering quietly in Faolan’s ear and Faolan nodded. “Lord Donegal, will you lend your sword to the aid of your king?” he asked.

  Donegal handed it over without hesitation, looking askance at the young man, but not saying anything. Taking the sword and tapping him on the shoulder, he said “arise Gareth, Lord of Longford. Longford has been overlong without the leadership of its rightful line.”

  Gareth was surprised, but accepted the title with grace. Turning to Curt, Faolan continued. “I would make of you first counselor if you would have the position?”

  “It would be my honor to serve son” he replied.

  Faolan spent the night in silent vigil, Aeden and Fianna at his side. In the morning he was crowned by his friend the High Druid, and upon the noon hour he took Teagan as his queen. The celebration carried on late into the night, and the companions of Bretharc enjoyed the moment. With the sunrise all would depart. The new king with his retinue was obligated to visit the four corners of his land and begin setting right the damage the Sorginak had done to Eire.

  Riordan and Fianna were bound for the druid isle, to restore the order’s sacred grove and prepare for the coming battles. Aeden had not revealed his plans to anyone, and none had pressed. He realized now that what he had desired for his life was his and more, but now that he had he wished for nothing more than to return to Bretharc and raise pigs and potatoes. He knew now that the simple life he had so longed to escape was lost to him forever. He didn’t know what difference he could make, but he planned to set sail for Gaul. The Sorginak had to be pushed out of the lands of his ancestors, and if he didn’t see to it, his friends would be in danger again and soon.

  It was time for him to go on alone. He planned to go light and go fast, and if fate allowed he would remove the pall of doom hanging over his friends. He would take his sword, and the small bag with the three stones contained therein. He still had no
real idea of what purpose these served, but his mother had assured him that they were rare and powerful. He knew he needed to solve the mystery of these stones, but there was another power that he had recently come to realize he possessed that was far more important to him now. In any case, he could not take time to seek the answers, but must rely upon the fates themselves to deliver the answers while he fought the enemies of his people.

  Epilogue

  The field was a buffet for crows, and the Morrighan cast a weary eye upon it. Unlike her brethren, she was not bound to the land, but to man, which gave her freedom to travel wherever men strove to master one another; which is to say anywhere.

  Somewhere on this field lay a wounded warrior so near death that she had little chance to save him, but that was not why she was here. His sword carried within it the seed of her power, and it could not fall into the hands of those that would use it to destroy her kind. Casting about upon the field she raced to find the fallen demigod before her enemies.

  The Dagda had warned her of this day even as he asked her to infuse the talisman with power that could never be undone. Aeden may have been the first to bear the blade destined to be known as the Sword of Kings, but he would not even be remembered in future ages as the one who had saved mankind from a darkness that