Niall sighed. “Dammit, Finn.”
“What’s wrong?” Finn asked. “Was I too loud?”
Maeve chuckled. “He bet me that Fergal would be the first one to forget we couldn’t see each other.”
Finn felt his cheeks warm and took solace in knowing they wouldn’t see that, either.
“What were you going to say?” Maeve asked.
“Nevermind,” Finn said. “I’d rather not.”
“C’mere to me,” Maeve said. “It was all in fun. We don’t think any less of you—at least I don’t. Tell me.”
Finn bit his lip and considered whether he should take the bait. “I was just going to say,” he said in a quieter tone, “that your magic worked brilliantly. You really should train yourself up and use it more.”
The group fell silent for a moment.
“I see,” Maeve said. “That’s not what I expected you to say. Thanks.”
“So how are we getting in?” Niall asked.
“I had hoped the builders would have opted for larger windows on this side of the castle,” Maeve said. “If nothing else but to enjoy the view of the sea below.”
“You think undead beasties would care for such things?” Niall asked.
“Of course not,” Maeve said. “But they didn’t build it, did they? Look over there.”
Finn smiled. “Over where, exactly?”
Maeve sighed. “Dammit. Only there, to the left of the primary building.”
Four square features protruded from the back wall, one per floor, ascending from the center to the far corner, each with a hole in the bottom.
“Are those things what I think they are?” Finn asked.
“Hai, they’re the garderobes,” Fergal said. “What need could these creatures have for them?”
“What use do they have for a castle?” Niall asked. “None. The ávertach clearly displaced the former residents.”
“I, for one, still can’t believe that even in the afterlife we still have to answer the call of nature,” Fergal said.
“Whist!” Maeve said. “We have no time for another debate on the finer details of the Otherworld.”
“Fine, fine,” Fergal said. “But do you mean for us to truly—”
“—tell me a better way in,” she said. “None of us are climbing through a loophole, are we?”
“Some of us aren’t climbing through a garderobe, either,” Fergal said, slapping his stomach to convey his point. “Even if I don’t get stuck, I’m not excited to be rubbing up against that muck.”
“For what it’s worth, Fergal,” Finn said, “I don’t suspect the new tenants use it much. Also, the lowest one is missing its bottom half. I suspect some invaders entered through this very spot.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing, Finn,” Fergal said, “but it’s not working. It doesn’t matter; Maeve’s right. There’s no other way in.”
“Then can we move this along before my spell fades?” she asked. “I’ll go first, then Finn, then Fergal. Ferg, if your shoulders won’t fit then Niall can help ease you in.”
More silence.
“Fergal, you’ll have to say something,” Niall said. “We can’t see you smiling.”
“I was doing something else,” Fergal said. “Up you go, Maeve.”
Maeve’s soft grunts grew muffled as she climbed through the hole and into the adjoining room. “Next,” she whispered.
Finn ducked under the broken wall of the garderobe and placed both hands on the bottom of the break in the wall. He crouched and then jumped, locking his elbows and resting all of his weight on his hands. He rocked to one side, extended his free arm forward and leaned his chest onto the floor. Climbing onto his hands and knees, he surveyed his new surroundings.
Bucklers and kite shields lay on top of each other in the corner opposite from which he had entered. Spears and swords covered most of the floor. At some point this room had served as an armory but none of the racks, stands or mounts were in use.
“There are things in the next room,” Maeve whispered from somewhere on his left. “Don’t kick these swords. Send the next one up.”
Finn stuck his head out of the hole. “Fergal?” he whispered. “You’re next.” He slid left until his shoulder bumped Maeve. She tapped his arm with her elbow.
“Through the door,” she said. “Fear gortas?”
He peered through the doorway on the right wall. Several spindly beings wandered, stood and swayed in the main hall. Different configurations of cloth and shrouds draped over their angular forms. It did remind Finn of the fear gortas they encountered during the beginning of their ordeal last year. The creatures in the other room, however, did not appear as if they had crawled out of a tomb, nor did they look emaciated.
Finn’s eyes scanned the armory. Red streaks lined the wall and red spots stained the floor. “Much worse than fear gorta,” Finn told Maeve. “They’re bánánachs.”
“Which means?”
“Not only are we allowed to hit ‘em,” Finn said, “it’s strongly advised we do so when the time comes.” He heard a heavy step seconds before a large force knocked him sideways into Maeve.
“Fergal?” Finn whispered. “You’re up here already?”
“I am, hai,” Fergal whispered.
“All that worrying was for nothing, then?” Finn asked.
“It would appear so. Here comes Niall.”
“I hear ‘em in the other room,” Niall whispered. “What are they?”
“Bánánachs,” Finn said.
“Truly?” Niall asked. “Never seen one.”
“Brace yourself and help me out,” Maeve whispered to Finn. She leaned in front of him and wrapped her arm around his lower back. He grabbed the far side of her back to hold her up.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
“Even our whispers are too loud,” she said. “You three, listen,” she whispered. “We have to get to the steward if we want a chance at beating the big fella. If we’re lucky, they’re holding yer man in the cellar, far away from The ávertach.”
“If we’re unlucky?” Fergal whispered. “Which has been the trend, you know.”
“Then Himself will keep the steward right next to him. We’re going in that room, and we’re looking for the nearest stairway down. Hear me: no one makes an aggressive move unless I do it first. No matter what. We don’t risk our cover until it’s time to fight.”
“Can’t you just refresh your magic?” Fergal asked.
“It’s not a mug you can refill. As my mam taught me, I’ll break all of your covers when I cast the first spell. Finn and I are looking right at them through the doorway. All it will take is a stray glance before I’m finished and they’ve found us before we begin.”
“Sorry,” Fergal said.
“Not a damn thing to be sorry for, MacDavett,” she whispered. “We’re going the long way around these swords. I’m going to take five steps and wait for Finn’s hand on my shoulder. He’s going to wait for Fergal’s hand. He’s going to wait for Niall’s hand. When Niall reaches Fergal—with his native hand—you three tap up the line to let me know to take five more steps. Stay quiet if you understand.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Silence.
“Grand. I’m going to stop at the bottom of the stairs. That means you’ll be stopping on a stair yourself. Do not knock each other down the stairs like a bunch of bleedin’ pups tumbling out the front door. Silence means you understand.”
Silence.
“Grand. We’re moving now.”
The group staggered through the first few cycles of Maeve’s plan. By the time they turned the corner near the pile of shields and headed for the door, the group moved in rhythm.
A thick wall bisected the main keep into front and back rooms. Here in the rear, collapsed beds and broken benches suggested this had been where the former owners had quartered their guards. Three bánánach stood in the room. Dark, stringy hair hung from the crowns of their heads. Two of them must have been women in their former lives. The man stood to the right of the empty double doorway, listlessly facing an empty wall. One woman paced the far side of the room. The third woman’s head spun toward the door on the far side of the room, leading to the left wing of the castle. She walked across the hall and disappeared into the other room.
The keep had two staircases visible from the group’s location. Through the double doorway Finn saw three more bánánach in front of a spiral staircase leading up the southwest watchtower attached to the front wall.
Fortunately for the group, the builders added a second staircase in this half of the castle. It was on the far side of the room, leading up the northwest watchtower, with only the remains of a common table between them and the cellar.
The third creature reentered the main room before the group could reach the common table. All four froze as the undead woman stepped within six feet of Maeve, close enough to fill Finn’s nose with a pungent stench and chill the surrounding air. The woman was almost clear of them when Niall’s silver hand slipped. The bánánach stopped when she heard the rattle and turned her head toward Niall.
Her pallid blue face remained expressionless. It was gaunt but not ghastly. Her irises and pupils had faded to a wispy grey. Her eyes darted around Niall’s general location.
Finn slid his hand down to Fragarach, careful to avoid rattling his scabbard. His other hand felt no movement through Maeve’s shoulder. Fergal was less composed. His hand squeezed Finn’s shoulder so tightly that Finn had to twist his body away from the big man’s grip.
Without an utterance or twitch of her face, the undead creature turned forward and walked through the double doorway. Finn heard Maeve exhale before resuming her path toward the stairwell.
Finn winced with every footfall from his group that echoed off the round walls of the stairway. Maeve stopped at the bottom of the stairs, as planned, and the group surveyed the cellar.
Collapsed shelves lined both walls of the room. Empty crates and ruptured bags lay on the floor in front of them. In the middle of the room a makeshift cage of uneven and misaligned bars reached from floor to ceiling. Two concentric circles surrounded the cage. Three standing torches formed a perfect triangle within the innermost circle, and between the rings someone had laid holly. Ogham had been chisled into the stone floor between the circles, the same message inscribed three times:
Neimnígid draío?t cru?aigidir istig
“Whatever is in there, they don’t want it using magic,” Finn said. “I think this is the place.”
Maeve took two steps forward. “Spread out,” she whispered over her shoulder.
Fergal’s steps led to the right. Niall’s passed Finn on his left.
A strained voice sounded from the cage. “Who’s there?”
The group stood in silence for a moment, waiting for anyone else to speak. “Are you the steward of the Sword of Light?” Maeve said.
“I’m not falling for your tricks, demon,” the man's voice said. “No matter how many voices you put in my head.”
“We’re no demons,” Maeve said.
“‘We?’” the stranger asked.
“Finn, you can drop our cover,” she said.
Finn took three steps back. “Scuirid ?ruíde?t,” he said as he completed his fishhook cast. All four members appeared at once, causing the man in the cell to sit up from the pile of blankets on his cot.
Wide-set blue eyes peered at them through shaggy, unkempt bangs. Layers of dirt covered a square face that hung loose off of his cheekbones and jaw.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“We’re here to slay The ávertach,” Maeve said. “And we need your help.”
“Hang on,” he said. “Are you all mortal?”
“We are,” Maeve said.
“What in the hell are you doing here?”
Maeve glanced at Niall. “Dya’not hear me?”
“You crossed planes, then worlds, then the countryside to pick a fight with one of the nastiest demons in the Otherworld?”
“It’s a mutually beneficial agreement, hai,” Niall said. “The Aos Sí are powerless to help their younger, less powerful comrades against the big fella.”
“And these comrades are where, exactly?”
“They’re of the mind that his minions will come runnin’ once we engage him. They’re watching our rear flank.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “How would they benefit from this?”
Maeve stepped toward the circle. “Pardon me for answering your question with a question, but how long have they kept you here?”
His eyes turned glassy. “I don’t know, lass. Indeed, I’m afraid to know.”
“I’m sorry for what’s happened, sir, truly,” Maeve said. “There are events in motion both here and back in our world. A child of Bres is working with one of the Fomori—Indech, possibly—and they’re about to invade Irel—íriu.”
“And?”
“We need the Spear,” Maeve said. Her eyes dipped to the ground before she looked upon the stranger once more. “And the Sword.”
The man’s head tilted back as he looked away from Maeve. “Of course you do.” He smiled and chuckled. The motion in his throat caused him to cough. “Tell me lass: Why not just bring your own army over?”
“What?” Maeve asked.
“The Aos Sí,” he said. “Even the Tuatha Dé themselves. If the Fomori are doing so, why don’t you do the same?”
Maeve looked at Finn and flashed him a look of surprise. Finn dropped his head. That would be a plan, he thought.
“Honestly, sir, it never dawned on us,” Maeve said. “We’ve been flailing to catch up for a while now.”
The man cackled. “I’m sure it hasn’t.” He shook his head. “Tell your master this was a worthy attempt, but he’s never going to get the Claíomh Solais.”
“You think we’re here on his behalf?” Niall asked.
“You’re saying that you strolled into this fortress, neat as you please, and made it down here?”
Fergal laughed.
“What’s so funny, lad?” the man asked.
“We crawled in through the garderobe,” he said. “Nothing particularly ‘neat’ about it.”
“How can we prove that we’re telling the truth?” Maeve asked.
“By freeing me,” he said. “For starters.”
Maeve caught Niall’s shrug in response.
“It was the plan, after all,” he said.
The man’s eyes narrowed as they shifted between the two.
Maeve turned to Finn. “Any ideas?”
“Let’s start by messing up their decorations,” he said. He walked over to one of the holly piles, kicked it out of the circles, and blew out the torch. Niall and Fergal followed Finn’s lead and cleared the other two piles.
“I don’t know what to about these etchings that won’t alert those things upstairs,” Finn said.
“Maybe we did enough to weaken their magic,” Maeve said. “Give it a lash.”
“Sir, I only know one spell that can help,” Finn said. “You’ll have to stand back from these bars.”
The man inside nodded, backed away and covered himself with his blanket.
“Guirid mital,” Finn said.
An orange glow appeared in the center of bars on the near side of the cage. The light expanded toward both the ceiling and floor, and by the time the entire bars were alight Finn felt the heat from his place outside of the circle. He continued to circle his hands around each other.
“Now what?” Maeve asked. “Wait for them to melt?”
“Hai, I think I have something,” Fergal said. He stepped to the near left corner of the cage and extended his hammer toward its center. He hooked the hammer side of his poleaxe on a bar, dropped his center of gravity, and pulled. The bar to which his weapon was hooked bent eight inches toward Fergal, the ones behind it curved enough to accommodate it. He examined his weapon for damage as he walked to the other corner. Satisfied with its integrity, he repeated the process on the other side.
“Fair play, Fergal,” Finn sail. “Step back. “Sir, you’ll want to brace yourself.”
“For what?” the stranger asked.
“I assume you want the bars cooler?”
The man pulled the blanket down from his head and smiled. “I suppose that would be nice.”
Finn shifted his hands. “Gáe?.”
The bars’ red glow faded after the first gust. Fergal held his hand in front of the cage and shook his head. Finn needed two more tries to fully cool the cage.
“Can you squeeze through?” Finn asked.
The stranger met no resistance as he slid his head through the gap. He twisted his body twice to free himself from the cage.
“I can’t believe it,” the man said. “You actually freed me.”
“Do you believe us now?” Maeve asked.
“Sure I do,” he said.
“So you can help us then?” she asked.
The man rubbed his face as he eyed each member of the party. His shoulders sank. “I cannot,” he said, his eyes lowering to the floor.
Maeve twisted her neck and stepped forward. “Sorry?”
“I’m sorry, lass. I can’t give you the sword.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.”
“This is how you repay us for your freedom?” Niall asked.
“Sadly, it is. You mortals must have performed some outstanding feats of strength and wit to make it this far, but I cannot risk the Claíomh Solais falling into The ávertach’s hands.”
“But we need it to save our people,” Finn said. “To save your people, by proxy.”
“I’m sorry, lad,” he said. “I’ll offer you this: defeat The ávertach and then come find me in Findias. You’ll get your chance to bring the sword home at that point.”
“Isn’t the Sword of Light the only weapon guaranteed to defeat The ávertach?” Maeve asked.
“You are correct,” he said.
Fergal stepped toward the stranger. “Sir, you can’t leave without giving us the sword.”
“I can,” he said. “And I will.”
The stranger flung his hands forward. “Tórann nert!” A concussive wave knocked all four members of the group backwards. He turned away from them and moved his hands in a circle. “Asoilgi tairse? ?uic an ca?air bán.”
A round hole bounded by grey light opened ten feet from the opposite side of the cage. The stranger looked back once more. “I am sorry for this.”
“You’re leaving us to die!” Maeve said.
“Perhaps,” he said, “but I never forced you to come here in the first place. I truly hope that we meet again.”
The man walked through the circular doorway and turned to face the room that once held him captive. With a flick of his right hand, the circle contracted to nothing.
Footsteps sounded from both the stairwell behind them and the stairs on the far side of the cellar.
“Right,” Niall said. “We could have done without that arse using thunder on us.”