The Tuatha De Cycle: The Spear of Assal

[Aiden Finnegan]

Violet clouds streaked across the reddened sky as the Sun began to slump behind the horizon. Golden hour had come, and Lugh was thankful for the timing. It had always been an auspicious hour for him. Most of the victories he had claimed in life happened during that precious time. He could not now remember anything going wrong when the Sun began its descent. Perhaps Esras had been telling the truth.

Perhaps.

Lugh could not bring himself to completely trust the man. After all, Esras had been a courtier at one stage in his life. Courtiers always looked after themselves no matter the lip service paid to their noble patron. It had been unsurprising that the blacksmith tried to play to Lugh’s vanity with that twisted hunk of gold.

Indeed, Lugh would still call upon Old Kerr’gan to see what the old fox had cooked up on his own forge. That would be the real measure of the man; Lugh would know which of them to trust after that. He highly doubted Old Kerr’gan would use Heartstone for the spearhead – not without the king’s ransom that Esras had demanded. Still, Lugh had only been dancing between the two blacksmiths in the hopes that one of them would give up their ‘illegal’ sources.

Esras had been far too quick in that regard. Speaking to a King or not, it was laughable to think that a blacksmith or a courtier would give up such secrets willingly. Then again, he had divulged the information during the Golden Hour. Lugh would have to ensure that he spoke with Old Kerr’gan before the hour ended.

Lugh opened himself to the Light and let the storm rage into his entire being. His jaw tightened as he commanded filaments of the Light to bend to his will. A silvery slash of light appeared in the air before Lugh, slowly rotating into an opening. With a silent clap, it snapped open into a Doorway that lead directly onto Old Kerr’gan’s property. Lugh stepped through and released the Light, knowing the Doorway behind him would snap shut.

Like many in Gorias, Old Kerr’gan had made his home deep into the earth. Most dwellings of this Great City consisted of two subterranean levels and one level above ground topped with a large mound of soil, clay, and stone. The architectural design started as a fad amongst the nobility and was quickly taken up by the common folk as the nations of the world were torn into pieces by the warring Gods.

Such homes were more easily defended against invaders and incredibly hard to spot from the skies. That much had become apparent when the wars began in earnest. After five years of battles and skirmishes, Gorias had been the only city of the Isles that had remained largely intact. Refugees began pouring in and the city itself began to swell. After another five years, the population had doubled, and a second ring wall had been erected along the outermost reaches of the city’s limits.

All of this had taken place long before Lugh had been born, of course. Why, Lugh’s own father, Cian had helped to build the second wall of Gorias. He had often told Lugh stories about those early days. To hear Cian tell it, he had single-handedly built the wall and also had convinced the rulers of the other great cities – Failias, Findias, and Murias – to adopt the mounded homes in their own surviving territories.

Lugh had laughed at that as a child, but having traveled every pace of the Isles of Erie… Well, Lugh no longer doubted his late-Fathers fanciful tales. Lugh’s own children didn’t believe nearly half of his own stories – and those had most assuredly happened the way he had told them.

War and defense aside, the mounded dwellings certainly added an air of tranquility to the four great cities. The tallest feature of any of the four had been the ring walls, and one could hardly notice those if one had ventured far enough into any of the cities. Instead of hulking masses of brick and mortar, the citizens of the cities enjoyed the fruits of nature. Countless groves of fruit trees, carefully tended gardens, and fountains of silver and stone had taken hold of the endless waves of mounded grass that covered the cities – at least once more stability had come to the Isles during the reign of the great High King Nuada. He had been the first to unite the Warlords - now Princes - and it had been Lugh who was named his successor: the one to keep the peace.

Lugh found himself worrying that those beautiful civic features would once again be torn down in the face of civil war. That was the real reason Lugh needed a ‘badge of office.’ He needed something that would keep the crown on his head and the throne under his arse. Lord Cermait threatened all of that. The man was a powerful God in his own right; powerful enough to challenge Lugh’s claim to Nuada’s legacy.

“Well, are you going to come in or just stand there all day, my King?” Old Kerr’gan called out from the mound, snapping Lugh out of his own thoughts.

“I am old man, thanks. I trust you know why I am here?” Lugh called back with that smile of his dancing upon his lips.

“Indeed. Why don’t you come on down and take a look?” Old Kerr’gan beckoned, “I think you’ll be impressed - if I may be so bold, my King.”

“I do hope so, old man, I do hope so,” Lugh laughed as he strode forward and down into Old Kerr’gan’s workshop.