Day 15 of Midwinter, Sunset

Cruachan, Midlands

Annwn

I hadn’t lingered long after my chat with Diarmuid. Once Gaoth had properly watered and fed himself, and the darkness of the night lightened enough, we were on our way. It had been a grueling day and night was beginning to close in again when we made it to the outskirts of Cruachan.

The ancient temple of Cruachan was a sprawling monument that dated back to before the Sages. While little is known of its origins, all were aware of the malevolent force that took up residence there around the time the four cities were founded.

Over the years, travelers had shared whispered stories of the foul smells and strange noises that emanated from the double doors leading inside. Pilgrims had avoided the sanctum and halls inside of Cruachan for all of recorded history, knowing that whatever had claimed the temple as its home still resided within the walls of the massive structure. Still, many a weary traveler had taken advantage of the temple’s dark reputation, seeking shelter from both enemies and weather in its exterior grounds.

Gaoth slowed to a canter as we passed the first crumbling structure on the perimeter of the temple grounds. It became immediately clear to me that a group of people had quickly extinguished a fire in the area and hidden in the rubble.

Hiding meant one of two things. Either the people were afraid or they intended an ambush. I was banking on the former based on my conversation with Diarmuid.

“Greetings,” I bellowed from atop Gaoth. I briefly considered my breastplate, which was in plain sight. The sight of its heraldry wouldn’t alleviate the concerns of anyone hiding from view. “I mean you no harm. I have just come from the company of Diarmuid and your fianna.”

A few heads rose cautiously from behind old buildings that had been worn away by time. One head was lower to the ground than I had expected. A boy with a curly mop of hair. Of the group, he appeared to be the boldest, as he quickly emerged from his hiding space and began toward me.

“Sétanta,” a woman called from across the ancient street. “Get back! Don’t go near him.”

I dismounted and slowly approached the boy.

“Hello there, lad,” I said, crouching down to his level. “Do you like horses?” The boy spared me a glance before his eyes wandered to Gaoth standing behind me. The boy studied the warhorse intensely.

“I like all animals,” he announced, his dark eyes never leaving the horse. I could see a group of twelve or so people beginning to step out into view. The woman who had said Sétanta’s name came to stand beside him and took his hand.

I stood and bowed my head. Her delicate brow furrowed slightly.

“My name is Tadg mac Nuada.” She flinched at hearing my father’s name. I immediately held up my hands. “Rest easy. I am not here on his behalf.”

Several in the crowd had placed their hands closer to their sword handles. I pretended not to notice. “Sétanta, would you like to meet my horse?” The boy nodded solemnly and pulled his hand from the woman’s grip.

“His name is Gaoth. It means…”

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“Wind,” Sétanta interrupted. “I have heard of him. But I know of a faster horse.” Gaoth tossed his head and whinnied.

“I think old Gaoth disagrees with you,” I said, smiling.

The boy’s words tumbled out, nearly too fast for me to follow. “Móralltach is faster, but Aonbharr can run on the water.” I had seen the horses of Aengus Og and Manannán mac Lir run wild together at a summer festival many moons ago. They were indeed fast, but Gaoth had still run circles around them.

“Why have you come?” the woman asked.

“I am merely passing through. There is an errand that needs my attention to the northeast.”

She drew the boy away and fully faced me. “And you are resting here this evening?”

Again, I bowed, then motioned to Gaoth. “With your consent, yes. We would both appreciate it.” I added, “Your leader asked me to tell you that they will be along no later than Midday on the morrow.”

She nodded and began leading the boy away. I moved to tend to Gaoth and my equipment. The members of the fianna rekindled their fires.

For the first hour, I sat alone, munching on salted venison. I had taken the tackle off Gaoth and brushed him down under the watchful eyes of Sétanta. Gaoth had eventually tired of my ministrations and wandered outside of the ruins, likely to graze. I knew he wouldn’t go far.

Throughout the ruins, I saw people huddled around small campfires. The air had grown colder, even next to my own fire. It was cold enough that I had pulled Gaoth’s saddle blanket off of the nearby stone wall and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Hearing a noise to my left, I looked over to find Sétanta settling at my fire. The boy was also huddled in a blanket. He moved dangerously close to the flames.

“Why is it so cold?” he asked me between shivers. I tucked his blanket in tighter around him and gently scooted him back from the fire. The woman emerged from the darkness behind us, watching my interaction with the boy. Her expression was wistful.

“I am Deichtine,” the woman said, sitting on the other side of the boy. “I’m sorry if I was rude earlier.”

I gave her a knowing smile and looked back into the fire. “Believe me… I understand.” We sat in silence for a time, each of us staring into the fire. The flames were hypnotic, and I found myself suddenly tired from the two days of hard riding.

“Tadg…” Deichtine’s voice was weak as if she had something caught in her throat. Startled, I looked over. Her eyes were wide open and full of fear. Her mouth was open in a silent scream. Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor.

Sétanta sat frozen next to me, his skin the same grayish color. My mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening, flashing back to the events on The Stern Beauty in the Straits of Segais only days before. The Bánánach had come!

I flung off my blanket, leaping to my feet. I slashed Vowkeeper in a wide arc around the surrounding darkness. The beasts were intangible and nearly invisible in the dark, save for their amber eyes. Even still, my sword met resistance as it carved through the air.

Screams echoed through the temple grounds. Other members of the fianna were battling their own Bánánach.

I continued to attack the darkness, doing my best to hold our perimeter against the nearly invisible creatures. I shouted “It is the Bánánach. Only magic weapons or cold wrought iron can defeat them!”

Staring intently into the darkness outside of the firelight, I saw three sets of glowing eyes. The Bánánach were simply biding their time, waiting for me to lose focus or tire. It was not a battle I could win, I realized.

I thrust my sword into its sheath and reached down to hoist the unmoving Deichtine under one arm. With the other, I snatched up Sétanta. I turned and began to sprint for the double doors. “Get to the temple!” I shouted as I passed the other fianna.

I felt the chilly air that surrounded the Bánánach just behind me. My arms and lungs burned as I desperately ran, still clutching the dead weight of Deichtine and Sétanta.

At last, I reached the stairs leading to the temple doors. I bolted inside, still holding Deichtine and Sétanta in my arms. Many others followed in behind me. The Bánánach slowed outside the doors, appearing hesitant to enter the temple. I slammed the heavy doors shut.

“Barricade the entrance,” I commanded. Only seven others had made it inside the temple, but they immediately went to work, piling debris against the entrance. I didn’t know if the creatures could phase through the thick stone walls around us. If so, no amount of barricading would save us.

Then silence. The world was quiet but for the sound of the wind blowing across the plains and the soft gasps of those whose lives were being sucked away just outside the temple doors.

To my utter horror, I heard a sharp crack from the stone pillars. At the same time, I felt the foundation beneath my feet shift. The temple was about to collapse.