The First Age

Abcan
Court of the Tuatha De wiki page

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The guard on the right fell to his knees, retching onto the ground. A loud moan escaped his lips between spouts of bile. Abcan cocked an eyebrow and swung his attention back to the other two. The fog was beginning to wear thin, causing his Light touched sight to be able to see the guards in finer detail. A third shadow seemed to be moving behind the guards, coming away from the first that fell to his knees.

“You know, I once heard this old legend about a monster called Jack O’ the Wisps. Have you boys ever heard the tale?” Abcan called out mockingly to the two guards off to his right – luring them in closer.

The third shadow crept closer, moving behind the guard on Abcan’s right.

Through his enhanced senses, Abcan heard the distinct sound of metal clicking on metal. The guard to his right dropped to his knees and began to empty his gullet onto the ground, much like the first guard. The last one standing suddenly began to look around, completely ignoring Abcan as he moved in closer – the crossbow pointed directly at his skull.

Lugh felt the Shield try to slide into place, but he batted it back. Uscias clicked his tongue as he shot more fireballs at Lugh. With a repeated motion, Lugh batted them back and Uscias dodged to the side again. The fog was all but gone and Lugh caught sight of a shadow in the doorway.

Uscias lunged forward with the Sword of Light, aiming to sever the connection between Lugh and the spearhead. Lugh pulled it back without thought and wove a thick Fiber of Air to knock Uscias off his feet. The High Prince skipped once or twice before regaining his footing and attempting another leap for the spearhead.

Lugh held it back and reworked his weaving – expanding the Fibers of Air until they formed a net that split the room in half. With a precise flick of his wrist, Lugh added several threads of Fire and the net vibrated to life. The construct caught Uscias at the waist as he lunged for Lugh’s throat.

White-hot light streaked across Lugh’s vision once more as the High Prince vibrated and smoked within the net of static fire. The sword dropped from his hands as his muscles convulsed and his jaw worked soundless cries.

Lugh let the weave drop and reformed it as an invisible hand of Air, reaching out and taking the Sword of Light. Lugh laughed despite himself and brought the blade down to rest in his belt loop. Uscias lay crumpled on the ground, his skin smoking.

Gobain came from nowhere, snapping a familiar silver collar down upon the High Prince’s tender neck. Lugh gasped and took a step back as the son of Brigid summarily collapsed off to the right of the High Prince’s unconscious form.

“What in the Otherworld…?” Lugh exclaimed as the shadow from the doorway emerged.

Brigid stood off a ways, judging the scene and holding a look of supreme calm.

“A clean death is better than those collars,” Brigid announced, “But then, my sons have always used the tools that they find at hand.”

Brigid had been watching the High King from the opening of the small hallway. His little trick with the net of fire was a masterful stroke against Uscias. The little prick never saw it coming; thus he was unable to counter it with the sword. It begrudged her to admit that Nuada had chosen wisely. The new High King needed plenty of polish, but the right mind was there.

“And what exactly are they supposed to do?” Lugh asked her with an air of impatience, “The only thing I can see is that they’ve made the guards vomit and one of them knocked me out when I tried to remove it from your Granddaughter.”

Brigid’s eyebrows rose a fraction, “But it is off her, yes?”

“The Druidess Tlachtga removed it after I behaved carelessly, yes. Little Áine is safe under the Hill. Tlachtga is seeing to her care for the time being,” he replied with a slight nod, his hand falling to the sword at his belt. The High King began to caress the hilt thoughtlessly. She could already hear the High Council giggling in delight over the recovery of the sword – they might even be pleased to hear that Uscias was taken out.

There would be no room in the Isles for sedition or treachery. The Fomorians could not be allowed to establish a foothold anywhere. Surely a garrison would need to be installed on the Isle of Tory.

Brigid moved into the room, taking her time in coming to Gobain’s aid. From the looks of him, he took no wounds in the battle that had just concluded; but then, he looked the worse for wear. She spun out three Fibers of Spirit and delved her son. True to her visual assessment, the only thing wrong with him was malnourishment and exhaustion. Still, she wove all five of the Powers and Healed him. Within moments, his eyes fluttered open and a groan escaped his lips. She helped him to sit up and deposited a kiss upon both of his cheeks.

“You should have come when I beckoned,” Brigid whispered to her son.

“Even after all of this, I still would not. He needs us, Mother. The Isles need us,” Gobain whispered back as he rested his head upon her shoulder.

“We can discuss that later. The Fomorians have taken your brother, Credne,” Brigid replied as her hand went up on its own accord, stroking her sons hair away from his face.

Gobain straightened at Brigid’s revelation, turning to look her in the eye. Her hand fell away and she looked back to Lugh – who had clearly been listening in.

“He’s right, you know,” Lugh said simply.

Brigid sighed and nodded her head, “Yes, it appears that he is right. I’ve lost one son to a King’s war. Shall I lose the other two?”

“I cannot promise their safety, Brigid,” Lugh said honestly, “You know that. I can tell you that I do not ask you three to fight for me. I ask for your support through your skills. The Isles need to be strong. I fear that this incursion reaches further than Uscias.”

Brigid considered this for a time, silently staring into the High King’s eyes. He did not flinch, nor did he turn away. She finally broke their gaze and turned her head over to Abcan, “Well, old friend. What say you? Is this a man that will guide us through the gathering storm?”

Abcan was uncharacteristically quiet as he looked upon Lugh. The High King looked as if he was about to reprimand the bard but thought better of it. A feline grin spread across Abcan’s face as he noticed the restraint.

“Handle him like a son and he will shape up in no time, Bri,” Abcan finally said with a lilt to his voice.

Lugh’s mouth opened, but Brigid went right over him, “Fine. We shall return to the hill, but you are to recover my other son. If he has not been rescued within the month – or if he perishes – I will take Gobain and his family across the Eastern Sea and no Dagda shall ever lay eyes upon us again.”

Gobain stiffened at that, but Brigid simply laid a hand on his shoulder. He said nothing. Brigid simply stared intently at Lugh, awaiting his response. He looked from her to Abcan and then back to her before taking a knee and bringing his right fist up to his heart, pounding his chest three times.

“I swear by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth to see your son, Credne, rescued from the Fomorians, or may Danu’s face turn from me forever and the Morrigan consume my soul,” Lugh offered up the most formal pledge he could muster. Brigid rose from her seat on the ground and bent to kiss Lugh’s forehead.

“This pledge is accepted,” Brigid replied formally.

Lugh looked up at her with a roguish smile before leaping back to his feet.

“Splendid. Gobain, let’s find your wife and return to the Hill,” Lugh announced before spinning on his heel and marching out of the room. Brigid sighed as she helped her son back onto his feet.

“I meant it, Bri,” Abcan said as he came to stand near them, “Just give him a chance.”

“Does he know?” Brigid asked Abcan, a smirk beginning to touch her lips.

“He’s married,” Abcan replied as he looked away from her with a scowl.

“Kings have been known to take lovers. He has already sired an heir,” Brigid went on.

“Don’t we have another prisoner to free?” Abcan asked with a croak in his voice before chasing after Lugh.

“You are wicked,” Gobain murmured as Brigid lead him out of the room.

“That is one of my redeeming qualities, love,” Brigid said as she kissed him on the cheek.

It had been about four days since Lugh and his entourage had returned to the Hill of Tara. He had shown remarkable restrain during those four days, allowing Gobain and his family to get adjusted to their new life, and also allowing Brigid to settle back into her normal affairs about Court. Despite her protests, Lugh was all but certain that she had missed interacting with and living amongst her peers. The High Council never had to track her down – she was usually waiting for them in the Hall at first light, badgering them with questions and offering her own opinions freely.

The High Council had been shocked over the events that had transpired, but several of the Councilors had remarked on their distrust of Uscias. He had been Healed, of course, and tucked neatly away into the dungeons. The collar seemed to prevent him from using the Light on his own, but not much more. He refused to speak at present and the Council had not given Lugh the clearance needed to use the Compelling weave; not the Lugh would be performing it.

Gobain had shockingly brought in Esras to work for him just the day before. Kerr’gan had been peacocking about the Hill ever since – never seen working at his own forge. The man’s wardrobe was starting to get out of hand. Opulence was a grand thing when it came to members of the Court, but one could only take that so far before it was considered vulgar. Kerr’gan had officially passed that line a hundred-fold. Esras affected not to notice the constant strutting, but Lugh was fairly certain that the man raged inside.

Lugh had done nothing to curb the behavior, of course. The rest of the Court would see to that in due time. There were larger fish to fry. Lugh finally had Gobain under his roof – it was time to see what the blacksmith could produce.


 
There were several smitheries under the Hill, although not all had been in use. Gobain’s had never been relighted since his first departure, so it had proved an easy transition for him. Áine had been reunited with her mother and father the same night of their rescue, and the child proved to be just as rambunctious as Lugh remembered. She had taken up quickly with Lugh’s own daughter, Ebliu. The pair were quickly becoming known for their pranks on the servants. Both had been reprimanded, of course, but it seemed that they were quickly beginning to turn their attention to the Dagda instead.

The light from Gobain’s forge cast a warm haze upon the fourth level of the Hill, in fact, many that resided on that level had started to talk about the hypnotic rhythms of Gobain’s hammer. Many a person went on about how easy it was to fall asleep to such hammering.

Lugh walked up into Gobain’s yard; the man had his back turned as he sharpened a blade at an automated grindstone. He was not using the Light, of course, but one of the many Standing Flows that had been installed in the Hill. A small armory was beginning to form within Gobain’s yard – an armory of Heartstone. One of Lugh’s questions had been answered at the sight of the many bone-white blades; a satisfied smirk spread across his face.

“Master Gobain, do you have a moment to spare?” Lugh called out as he drew closer to the man’s working form.

Gobain stopped his grinding and straightened in his seat. He placed the blade down upon the ground and rose, turning and bowing to Lugh. He signaled Gobain to rise after an appropriate moment and gestured for the man to continue his work. Lugh walked over to the grindstone and turned to face Gobain.

“I assume you know why I’ve come calling?” Lugh asked as he gazed down upon one of his Dagda.

“Aye. I’ve discussed the principles with my mother and we both think that it will work. She proposed Linking, but I think that will cause the process to fail. Do you know of the Void?” Gobain spoke seriously, his eyes boring holes into Lugh’s own heart.

“The calm? Yes, I think so. You mean so long as we are both within that state, we will be able to coordinate our Talents together? I’ve often thought it would require such synchronicity,” Lugh went on with a knowing smile, “I do believe we may be of the same mind on this matter.”

“Indeed, your Radiance, I must agree. Do you have a sketch of the design required?”

Lugh reached into his side pouch and withdrew the spearhead and handed it over to Gobain, “I’ve decided to call this the ‘Spear of Assal.’ It is yours for completing this request.”

“But this is not Assal’s spearhead? Kerr’gan brags about the making of this – and it was not I that completed it for him,” Gobain replied seriously.

“No, but the manner in which I used it reminds me of Assal. Latch on to it with a flow of Air and it will always return to you,” Lugh went on as he found a ledge to lean on, “In all honesty, I thought you had been Kerr’gan’s contact. Uscias’ ogma crystals had indicated that it was you or your brother.”

“Credne cannot make Heartstone. His talents differ from mine,” Gobain replied, “Uscias was not honest, why should you trust what was in the ogma he provided?”

“You are correct. Brigid listened to them, however, and they are surprisingly accurate. That was one of the few details – assumptions – that was inaccurate,” Lugh said as he took out the pipe that Abcan had given him. The thing was lit within seconds thanks to a thing fiber of Fire.

Gobain considered this for a moment before nodding, “Right then, shall we be on with it then?”

Lugh nodded, “You’ve fixed the pattern of the spearhead in your mind, then?”

“I have. We’ll be using copper as the base. Come in with your Light infusion once the copper starts to shine and shift to Heartstone,” Gobain replied.

 
The work carried on into the twilight hours. Gobain fashioned a perfect replica of the spearhead, forged from copper. Supposedly, the transfiguration into Heartstone was a steady process, but it proved to drag on once Lugh had used the Light to touch the spearhead. He would go without his full strength for a time – that was the price one needed to pay in order to create such an object. It would all be worth it in the end.

Gobain nodded as Lugh embraced and wove all five of the Powers, opening himself to every single bit of the Light that he could safely contain. It felt as a tornado touching down upon a forest aflame. The Light surged within Lugh, pushing him dangerously close to the edge. He opened wider and wider – letting it all flow through him and into the spearhead. After a time, he felt the dangerous threshold begin to close upon itself. No longer was he on the razor's edge, almost falling to hubris.

Floating midair, the spearhead was made of Heartstone, and it measured about a foot in length. It was formed as a jagged, slender spade. The Ogham letter, iodhadh, had been engraved upon its center in the process of creation. A haft of yew, enchanted with a powerful Keeping, was affixed to its base. It was covered in maroon paint and had engravings of more Ogham letters etched into its length. A gilded ring with rubies was set at the joint between the two pieces, and a tan, braided leather cord was tied below it to signify Lugh’s training as a warrior.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the newly formed Heartstone suddenly started to darken and Lugh felt the last of his energy drift into the blade. The shining white spearhead blackened in a heartbeat – its hooked form retaining the opalescent hue that had come with the Heartstone. Lugh chuckled in delight as he separated the flows and used the second arm of his Will to delve into the spearhead.

Amplification of one’s Power. Unquenchable fairy fire.

Lugh’s smile deepened as the phantom words echoed in his mind. As the words went, so did Lugh's consciousness - his body falling to the ground. Gobain was soon to follow through the sheer exertion of the transfigurations. The pair were eventually found and transported to the hospital wing of the Hill. They recovered within the week and Lugh regained his strength within six months. He would go on through the rest of his life wielding that flaming spear. 

After that day of creation, it was said that the Isles of Erie contained four sacred treasures: the cauldron, the sword, the stone, and the spear.



The Spear of Lugh