The Tuatha De Cycle: The Spear of Assal

[Aiden Finnegan]

Lugh followed Old Kerr’gan down to the bottom level of his abode and stepped into his workshop. The entire basement had been devoted to the workings of metal and wood in all their forms. A large anvil sat at the center of the circular room; tools laid in a neat array atop the flat surface. Barrels of water and oil sat off to the side. Racks of half-finished arms and armor lined the walls, laid out in such a way that it dragged one’s eye to the very back of the workshop. Lugh let his eyes follow the path and his breath caught in his throat.

Directly across from Lugh, at the very back of the room, sat a slender stone dais. A glimmering spearhead made of a strange ivory material hung suspended above it, revolving as if on unseen strings. Old Kerr’gan was a God, of course. He flashed a triumphant smile at Lugh’s reaction.

Lugh rushed over to the dais without uttering a word and plucked the spearhead from its spot in the air. The piece felt a little lighter than Lugh would have liked – for a weapon – but he had anticipated as much when he had requested Heartstone. A spear needed balance and thankfully that balance was found in the haft. It was for that reason that Lugh had commissioned the spearhead to be made before the haft – that piece would have to be designed around the head.

“I am pleased to see that at least one of my subjects knows how to follow instructions,” Lugh murmured coyly to himself as he ran a finger along an edge of the thing. The skin of his thumb split cleanly, and blood started to trickle down. He smiled and set the thing down before wrapping his thumb in a kerchief.

“Should never have wasted your time with Esras, My Lord,” Kerr’gan all but chuckled as he came to stand a few paces from Lugh. The old blacksmith picked up the spearhead and cleaned the blood from it. He all but tutted at Lugh before suspending the thing once more in the air above the dais.

Lugh continued to study the piece as it floated before him and spoke magnanimously to Kerr’gan, “Perhaps not. His design work might be a touch finer than yours, old man, but even he could not give me Heartstone.”

Kerr’gan ignored the slight, “That is why you should have come to me first, My Lord. Only a God could give a God-King a proper weapon.”

“So it seems,” Lugh said simply as he took in the details of the spearhead; it was about a foot in length and shaped like a slender spade. Aside from that, the head was incredibly plain. Lugh pursed his lip and turned his attentions upon Old Kerr’gan, “Perhaps I spoke in haste. This is no sa’angreal, is it, old man?”

Kerr’gan ducked his head and bowed slightly, “No, My Lord.”

Lugh sighed heavily.

“I haven’t that Talent, My Lord,” Kerr’gan spoke up quickly, “And trust me – the making of Light-touched objects is in fact a Talent. I pay a man for the Heartstone, My Lord. I have yet to find a man that can work the Light into my creations. It still checks off most of your requirements, if I do say so, My Lord.”

Lugh spun away instantly at the admission, lest his face give away the game again. Old Kerr’gan had a man too, eh? It seemed that this man could at least produce. Esras had most assuredly been blowing hot air up Lugh’s arse.

Light rushed into Lugh as he opened himself up and willed the filaments into being. Fibers of Air, Fire, and Spirit threaded along the ground into a complex tapestry of light. The map of the Isles of Erie sprung up from the light. Lugh felt a sense of déjà vu as he asked, “Where is this man of yours located?”

Old Kerr’gan simply stared at Lugh.

Lugh’s eyebrows rose – it was far harder to intimidate another God with shows of Light – but then Kerr’gan’s eyes rolled down to Lugh’s side pouch. He chuckled and reached into the leather scrip, pulling out the fat sack of gold marks in payment for the spearhead.

“I’ll be back with five more of these before tomorrow night,” Lugh said seriously, “You won’t be getting the last three because you could not finish the project. I think that sounds more than fair, don’t you, Old Man?”

Kerr’gan caught the sack smoothly as Lugh tossed it to him. The silk bag quickly disappeared into the folds of the old man’s robes. He ducked his head and bowed again to Lugh, pointing to the northernmost island in the chain – the same island Esras had pointed to. Lugh kept his face smoothed at the surprise. What were the chances? Esras had been honest with the information; just not the price.

Lugh took the Fibers from the ground and reworked them until Air was the only thing left. The map of the Isles dissipated and transformed into an invisible hand that reached out for the spearhead. Within seconds, Lugh had his new piece of Heartstone wrapped up in canvas and stowed safely away in his side scrip. He let go of the Light and walked around to Old Kerr’gan, clasping the old man’s hand in thanks.

“My wholehearted thanks for this, Kerr’gan,” Lugh said warmly, adopting that characteristic smirk once more.

“The pleasure is mine, My Lord,” Old Kerr’gan replied honestly, shaking his King’s hand vigorously.

“I will tell you one secret of mine, if you agree to keep it close to the chest,” Lugh leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.

“Of-of course, My Lord,” Kerr’gan whispered back.

“I have a man that can work the Light into objects,” Lugh offered up in an even smaller voice.

Kerr’gan’s eyes grew wide, and his mouth began to work as if a question was on his lips. Lugh held up his hand and shook his head. Kerr’gan let the silence roll off his tongue and his mouth closed.

“Should this work, I will be calling on you for a haft. Pray that it does, Master Kerr’gan,” Lugh said before turning to leave.

“M-master?”

“The High King of the Tuatha De deserves a blacksmith that can give him Heartstone. Congratulations, Master Kerr’gan, you’ve earned yourself a promotion,” Lugh called over his shoulder before ascending the stairs to the surface.

Kerr’gan began to hoot and holler down below as he realized just how many marks he would be seeing inside of his coffers within the coming years.