Dara tried not to look down as he was carried at alarming speed through the cold morning air by the creature that now held him firmly in its grip, but couldn’t help himself and so, looked down anyway. As frightening as this first experience of flight was to him though, something inside him told him that he didn’t want to miss this for anything and so he continued to look toward the ground in his newfound amazement. He watched as the castle wall approached swiftly and then, suddenly, there was a gut-wrenching surge upward as the creature shrieked again and climbed directly upward through the air at speed in order to make it safely over the top of the mighty castle wall. As they cleared the wall, Dara could briefly see what lay below within the boundaries of the castle walls, as they flew toward the lofty tower at the centre of its grounds. He didn’t wonder where he was being taken, as he knew only too well the answer, but he did wonder, however, where his dear Holly was.
As he was flown over the ramparts, he noticed that the walls themselves were roughly ten or fifteen feet thick, and on the interior of each, it was as though many smaller buildings of a similar size and shape were stacked one on top of the other for about three quarters of the way up the inside, or so. He thought to himself that he’d never seen so many windows in all his life, noticing that they covered almost the entire internal surface of the walls and were stacked five deep, he counted.
Growing over every spare inch of wall where there wasn’t a window, or a door was the largest expanse of a blue-green ivy that he had ever seen in his life. It had grown all the way to the tops of the internal walls, and all the way around the interior of the castle. Every building was covered by it. Each window must have represented some type of room, he assumed, and wondered who, or what, occupied them. The great tower he had seen from outside, which they now flew toward, sat directly in the middle of the interior and was surrounded on all sides by numerous different, lesser buildings dotted around it throughout the courtyard, which varied in size, shape and height. A total of four buildings were attached directly to the tower at right angles to each other, two of which stood out from the rest by virtue of their greater size. He could briefly see that both of these larger buildings had stained glass windows and one, strangely, had a small hole in the roof, whereas the other had a spire at one end. This led him to assume that the latter must be their place of worship. All of these buildings were also almost entirely engulfed in the same blue-green ivy.
They were now very close to the tower, circling around it at a slower pace now, level with the glass section at the top, as if waiting for a signal or for something else to happen. On the first circuit, Dara noticed that, on the north side, there was a large arched opening in the glass wall. This appeared to him to be some eight feet high and, from this opening, the floor of the room within continued outward to form a large, stone type balcony which jutted out about ten feet, with a stone balustrade wall around its perimeter. On the second pass, they slowed and landed on the balcony, with a frenzied flapping of wings and yet another loud, ear piercing shriek.
Still restrained by the creature that had brought him here, Dara’s thoughts immediately turned to Holly, now that his feet were safely back on something solid again. He looked first to his left, then quickly around to his right and to his relief, there she was, just sitting calmly by his side, looking up at him as usual. She seemed to be unrestrained, strangely, and as far as he could tell, she appeared to be unharmed, of which he was extremely grateful.
As he stood there on the balcony, still held firmly by the Shawan, he peered ahead into the magnificent room that lay ahead of him, dominating the top of the tower. The curved walls seemed to be made from a single expanse of glass for the entirety of their circumference and were almost twice the height of an average man. Dara couldn’t help but wonder how they achieved something like this. On the black stone floor inside were scattered a number of large animal skin rugs of various sizes and colours. He could also see numerous pieces of elegant, brightly coloured furniture placed here and there throughout the room, mostly for sitting on. A large round, wooden table dominated the middle of the room, on top of which, placed at its centre, was an ornate vase with the most beautiful and unusual flowers he had ever seen in his life. This struck him as odd in the middle of winter, and he now questioned himself as to where they might have come from.
At the far side of the room, he could just make out what seemed to be a set of stairs providing access to the room from below and where, just now, a bearded man was ascending, turning as he reached the top to walk towards him. The man walked across the room toward Dara slowly, making eye contact with him all the time, with a sort of quizzical, almost puzzled, expression on his face. Dara guessed the man might be aged somewhere in his fifties but couldn’t be more wrong - closer to five hundred and fifty was probably more accurate.
The man was followed by two large dogs, neither of which bothered, nor seemed bothered by, Holly in any way. Holly chose to ignore their presence and huddled in close to Dara’s leg. Another similarly aged man followed directly behind them and both men came to a halt, and stood side by side just feet in front of Dara, with the two great hounds sat just behind them. It didn’t take long for Dara to notice the two men’s strangely pointed ears, as well as their diminutive size.
“My name is King Lugh of the people of Danu and this is my champion and right hand, whose name is Cethen,” the first man proclaimed, as he gestured toward the fair haired, lean man to his left. He continued by enquiring, “What name are you called by, good sir?”
Dara, at that moment, was still somewhat in awe of his recent experience and simply stammered,
“D - D - Danu?” just then realising what the man had said, then took a deep breath and blurted out, “My name is Dara MacBrien, sir, of the glen below the mountain to the south, Glenarran. I mean you no harm, Sire, I swear of it.”
He desperately hoped that his words would keep him safe and free from harm at the hands of his captors. He was certain that the man talking to him had said the name Danu - or had he just imagined or misheard it. Strange coincidence, he now thought, since he was, just a while earlier, thinking of these very people. Surely not? He hadn’t heard that name mentioned since he was a boy. Could these really be the so-called mythical people of Danu whom he’d heard tales of in the past as a child? Surely it couldn’t be true, although he’d always hoped it were, in some way.
Nevertheless, here he was now, face to face in this magnificent castle with a man who had just announced that that was who he was. If so, however, he worried that there could be no telling how this would turn out for him, as these people were fabled to be capable of all manner of magical feats, not least of which was, until recently, concealing this huge castle. He might well end up being turned into a goat or a sheep, or something much worse if that were possible, he now feared.
“It is unfortunate that you were in the vicinity when the mornings rather… catastrophic… events unfolded, well, Dara MacBrien. Unfortunate for both yourself and us, in all honesty. Perhaps you should not have let your curiosity lead you here so easily, else you would be safe elsewhere now, no?” Lugh pointed out.
Dara was now more concerned for his welfare than ever, on hearing the man say the words safe elsewhere. What could he mean by that exactly… was he not safe here? What were this man’s intentions for both him and Holly, he wondered? His thoughts suddenly turned to his beloved wife, Mary, and his girls at home. He found comfort in the fact that it was still only late morning and wouldn’t be dark for hours yet, and so they would not be expecting him home just yet, as he normally got back just around dusk. Then he thought, What if these people keep me here until after dark? What if they keep me here forever? His mind was again racing, with ideas of what was going to happen to him, and of what would become of Mary if he didn’t get home to her and his daughters. He was now more worried than he had ever been in his life before, and he was suddenly overcome by sadness.
“This man carries small arms with him, Sire. A bow and arrows, and a hunting knife by his belt,” Cethen said, interrupting the brief silence.
“Disarm him please, Cethen,” Lugh instructed, with a nod toward Dara.
Cethen stepped forward, and the Shawan that was holding Dara suddenly eased its grip just enough to allow Cethen access to remove Dara’s weapons, which he then took into the room and placed on a chair by the large table. He turned and walked back to Lugh’s side and stated, “He is now safely unarmed, Sire.”
Lugh nodded and said, “Thank you, Cethen. I think it’s safe for the Shawan to release him from its grip now. I’m sure he’ll do us no harm.”
Cethen simply replied, “Aye, Sire, as you wish.”
Cethen then spoke, almost whispered, three words to the Shawan in an unusual tongue that Dara had never heard in his life before.
“Shawan. Callahen lu,” he said, and no sooner had he uttered the words, than the creature completely released Dara from its grip, took one step back and with another loud shriek and a whoosh of its wings, rose into the air again and flew away from the balcony with its three identical looking companions, all of them vanishing from sight.
Dara immediately felt relieved at this, for at least he could breathe properly now. Then, a sudden thought crept into his mind that he should possibly attempt to make a run for it. But then, just as suddenly, he realised that there was really nowhere he could run to - there was nowhere to go other than somewhere else in this vast castle. Instead, he stood where he was and asked of his captor, “What name is this place called, sir, and what is to become of me, might I ask?”
“That, my friend Dara, is a very good question indeed,” replied Lugh. “This place, as you call it, has become known to us as home and is called by us simply, the ivy castle, for reasons you can clearly see. You are now a… a guest, I would say. Yes, a guest… of sorts. Who do you live with at your home? Is there anyone who will be missing you or expecting you home shortly? A wife perhaps?” Lugh continued. “The problem, you see, is that if we allow you to leave to return to your home and your tongue gets the better of you, then we shall have a very serious problem on our hands here, no? We have kept this place a secret for several hundreds of years and I plan to keep it that way at any cost. My people cannot risk exposure, and in that respect, releasing you is a very serious risk indeed.”
Dara looked at the stone floor thoughtfully for a moment, and then to Holly by his side. He raised his head back up, staring at Lugh and asked, “What if I promise to keep your secret safe? I could take some kind of oath, and you know now where I live.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully as he continued, “I have a very poorly wife at home and two very young daughters. They desperately need me home to take care of them all, Sire. I beg of you, will you please release me?”
“Hmm, that’s as may be, young man, but I have something very important to attend to presently, and so, I will think the matter over whilst I leave you in the charge of my friend, Cethen here. I will give you my answer when I return shortly, Dara MacBrien,” Lugh said. He then turned to Cethen and instructed, “Cethen, please take him to the holding area below in the dark chamber, and make sure that he and his dog are both secure. I shall deal with him when I have finished with Oran and the high council.”
Lugh then turned and walked back into the tower room and toward the stairs, once again followed by his dogs. As he descended into the stairwell, two much younger looking men dressed somewhat like soldiers or guards appeared and joined Cethen, Dara and Holly on the balcony.
“This way please,” Cethen said to Dara, motioning politely towards the stairs where Lugh had just gone. Dara followed the instruction and walked toward the doorway and into the room, followed by Holly, Cethen and the two young men.
In another part of the castle, Oran got dressed in his normal daily attire in his private chamber, while the men who guarded him waited inside, watching closely over him. When Oran had finished dressing himself, one of the men opened the door to the corridor and gestured for Oran to leave the room.
“This way, young master Oran, if you please,” said the man, known only as Cathal.
Oran gingerly stepped out into the corridor, with the two men joining him on either side. He was surprised to see that many of the castles’ inhabitants had come out to watch as he was led past. No-one said anything to him as he walked past them. They just stared at him as though he had done something terrible and should be ashamed of it. Well, he had done something terrible, or at least had let something terrible happen, for which he was ashamed and so, he walked along the corridor and down the stairs with his head down. When they reached the ground floor, the men led him out into the courtyard and across to the large building with the spire, which was attached to the tower at one end.
They reached the entrance a moment later, to find a beautiful young girl wearing an apprehensive expression. Her skin was snow white and she was of roughly the same age as Oran, and stood by the door, facing them. She wore a long, dark green dress and had extremely long black hair, gathered in a pony-tail at the back of her head. She was, in fact, the King’s daughter. Her name was Enya and she and Oran had been best friends for as long as they could remember - since childhood, in fact. She moved now and stood in front of them, defiantly blocking the doorway.
“I heard of what happened, Oran, and I wanted you to know that I support you no matter what. You know that, yes?” she said to him. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you, if you need me. I won’t allow my father to do anything bad to you.”
Oran tried to smile at her and quietly said, “Thank you, Enya. It’s going to be fine, I’m sure,” trying hard to convince himself, as much as her.
She smiled back at him and asked, “Where are they taking you? Everyone’s asking?”
At that point, Cathal said, “He has an urgent audience with your father. Please step aside, Your Highness.”
Enya reluctantly moved out of the way with a scowl on her pretty face and said, “Good luck, Oran. Come and find me when you’re finished please.”
Cathal reached out and pushed the heavy, wooden entrance door open, and the three of them stepped inside the building. He turned and closed the door behind them, leaving Enya outside. It was deathly quiet inside as they quickly ushered Oran along the nave to the far end of the church and past the altar and the huge white statue of the goddess Dana, to the screened off section known as the chancel. Oran had never been in this part of the church before and had always wondered what lay behind the screens.
The chancel was quite large - larger than he had expected - and there were pictures on the walls of what he assumed were previous leaders or rulers of some description. On the very end wall, there were three very old looking doors, separated by about six feet between each, with a wooden sign on each. The one on the left read Vestry and the middle one read Tower, both in gold lettering, and the one to the right read simply No Admittance in red lettering. It was this door that the men now led Oran towards and as they approached, the door mysteriously swung open by itself as if it were expecting them, creaking faintly as it did so.
On the other side of the door was a relatively small, dimly lit room, with a rough stone floor. The room oddly had no windows and only the one door - the door through which they had just come, and which was now closing itself again behind them. There was a small, stone altar in the centre of the room, with half a dozen tiny oil lamps sat on top which provided the only light. They led Oran to the altar and stopped, facing it, one man either side of him.
“We bring Oran of the people of Danu to face the high council in the chamber of souls,” Cathal announced in a loud voice, with his head bowed.
Oran wondered whom he was addressing, as there seemed to be only the three of them present. He also wondered what on earth was the chamber of souls. There was an eerie silence for a few seconds, followed by an odd creaking sound, then suddenly, the room began to transform magically before his eyes.
“Stay still now for a moment, master Oran. Don’t move,” the other man, named Ronan, advised.
At first, as Oran’s eyes adjusted to the light, the floor began to extend in front of them as the stone slabs grew and expanded. With this, the room grew longer - much longer - and then taller as well, as the walls stretched upward. A large wooden door magically appeared in the far wall and along each side of the room, rising swiftly up out of the floor, appeared several statues, similar to the ones in the great room except these were larger than life size, probably eight feet tall, and appeared to be made of solid gold. There were, again, six statues in all, of the same people as in the great room, and each one held an object - weapons or instruments of some description. Then, curiously, as Oran watched in awe, each of the statues extended their one free arm with a metallic grinding sound, and gestured toward the newly appeared door at the far end of the room, turning their expressionless faces toward it as a sign for them to approach it.
Oran didn’t have time to examine them more closely, as his guard now hastily ushered him to the door at the other end of the room which, again, magically opened itself as they approached. On the other side of the door was a very dark room, a stairwell, containing only a spiral staircase, which Cathal now instructed him to descend. It was an old, stone staircase with a black iron handrail, and it appeared to have had a lot of use over time, in spite of the fact that none of the castle’s inhabitants seemed to know of its existence, or so Oran believed anyway, as he’d never heard anyone speak of this place. The centre of each step was well worn in the middle, from what he guessed was hundreds of years of foot traffic - but by whom, he wondered? He guessed it could only be the King, possibly, and wondered what it was that brought him down here so often.
On and on they descended, down the gloomy, dimly lit stairwell for what seemed like ages. Oran guessed he must be at least a hundred feet or more below ground by now and could smell a damp, musty sort of smell and hear water dripping occasionally. He was also very aware of the eerie echo of their footsteps as he descended into the depths of the unknown - unknown to him, at least. Finally, they reached what Oran assumed was the bottom, where the stairs ended and opened out into another large room, or rather cavern, which was again dimly lit by small oil lamps set into niches carved into and along the stone wall on his right. The room had been carved out of the rock that formed the very mountain itself and the moist walls reflected this in their roughness and unevenness.
Oran stopped as he noticed that there was no wall, as such, to his left, but instead a long row of vertical iron bars from the floor to the ceiling, which were spaced about four inches apart, with a sort of similarly forged gate in the middle with a big old-fashioned padlock on it. It was too dark to see what lay behind the bars, apart from the loosely scattered straw on the floor and Oran wondered, sadly, if this was where he would end up after his meeting with the King and the mysterious high council.
The men urged him onward, toward the far end of the room where it narrowed and now, in the dim light, Oran could see that there was another large wooden door set into the rock here - this time with a familiar, yet slightly different, circular ancient Celtic symbol inlaid in gold in the centre of it, which was about the same size as an average dinner plate. Two men stood guard either side of this door, which lay dead centre at the end of the room, though it was really more like a large, tapering cave than a room, to be honest.
As Oran arrived at the door, Cathal announced again, “We bring Oran of the people of Danu to face the high council in the chamber of souls.”
The guard to the left of the door nodded as he turned to face it, tapping three times on it with his wooden staff. Within seconds, the symbol began to glow with a brilliant green light. As the symbol glowed, the door swung open slowly by itself, just as the others had done before. Just inside, he was surprised to see King Lugh already stood waiting in the dimly lit room for him, facing the open doorway. The King was dressed differently from normal and now wore a long, dark green robe with intricate gold embroidery of a Celtic nature down both sides at the front and all the way around the bottom. On his head, he wore a small, modest looking crown made of gold with, in its centre, the same Celtic symbol as was on the door. Around the King’s waist was a belt and scabbard in which a sword was sheathed, which worried Oran greatly.
He looked at Oran, smiling, and said, “Come forth, Oran. Please, enter,” gesturing with both hands for Oran to walk toward him.
The room was quite dark inside, and Oran could hardly see anything at all, other than the King and the patch of stone floor that lay between them both. He walked slowly and apprehensively forward toward Lugh and once inside, the door swung shut behind him with a loud bang, making him jump. Now it was just him and the King in the darkened room together, alone. He could clearly hear his own heart, beating vigorously in his chest.
“Don’t be afraid, Oran. There is nothing for you to fear here. I assure you that you will come to no harm in this place. Now then, none other than I have ever had the privilege of entering here until this day, Oran. You are the first, other than myself,” Lugh said quietly, adding proudly, “You are about to witness something seen only by my eyes until this day, and you are extremely fortunate - no, privileged… indeed.”
Oran forced a smile as Lugh took a deep breath and said, with a certain sadness in his voice, “It is, however, unfortunate that you arrive here under the given set of very serious circumstances, but I hope for your sake that the outcome of this meeting will be, in some way, favourable for you, my young friend. I have always looked upon you as the son I never had, Oran, ever since the day you were discovered outside the castle all those years ago, and I hope the council have mercy on you now because of this.”
Oran was still wondering who this council were exactly but said nothing. He was of the belief that there was only the King and himself here in the room, but truthfully, it was so dark there could easily be any number of other people hidden in here also.
“Come now, Oran. Let us face the high council together,” Lugh announced, as he turned his back to Oran. “By my side now, Oran,” he instructed, motioning with his left hand to the space beside him, where he wanted Oran to stand.
Oran stepped forward quickly, noticing the impressive symbol which almost covered the back of Lugh’s robe which, again, resembled closely the circular Celtic design as before on the door and on Lugh’s crown. It was the same Celtic symbol, or similar, used throughout Danu society to represent the status of an individual, or the importance of an area or section of the castle. But this one was different, having the image of a sword placed vertically at its centre - a very unique sword with what he could only imagine was a dragon coiled tightly around its handle.
Until now, Oran had believed there to be only four ranks or positions in the Danu hierarchy. These were awarded based on an individual’s skills in the art of magic and were; junior, intermediate, skilled and lastly, master, amongst which Oran held the position of junior, and had only ever seen the King wear that of master… until now. This form of the symbol he had never seen before today, and he felt certain that it must carry very great significance and wondered what it could mean.
He was now very afraid of what was about to happen to him and dug deep in his heart to find some courage. As he reached Lugh’s side, the room strangely started to brighten slightly, and he noticed that it was a very large, circular room which appeared to have no ceiling or roof that he could see, seeming to continue upward indefinitely, into complete darkness.
Directly to their front, about thirty feet away, were three large, ornately carved black wooden thrones, which were spaced several feet apart. Immediately in front of them at the centre of the room, laid into the floor where they now stood, was a very large, intricate mosaic which depicted a map of Ireland, again inlaid in gold, with a gold Celtic design like that on Lugh’s robe surrounding it entirely in a perfect circle. At the four corners of this map, each inlaid in a different coloured stone, were images of four special objects which Oran instantly recognised, as they were also used on many Danu markings and rank insignia. On the upper left side lay an image of the Cauldron of Dagda and to its right, an image of a spear, the Spear of Lugh. To the lower left side was an image of a rock, the Stone of Fal and lastly, to its right, a strangely glowing sword, the Sword of Light.
He looked up and around the room, suddenly gasping in awe as he now noticed four very large, evenly spaced, reptilian looking skulls mounted around the circumference of the room on the rough stone walls. Each skull was slightly different in size and shape, but each had all manner of horns and boney barbs protruding in various places. He thought to himself that these skulls were so large that he could quite easily fit inside the jaws of one. Although he had never seen one alive, he knew only too well that these could only be the skulls of dragons which had possibly died in battles past and he thought that they must surely have been impressive, formidable creatures in their time. He then felt a sadness at the fact that he had never seen a living dragon - that they had been wiped from existence hundreds of years before his time.
On the floor, directly below each of the skulls, stood a stone plinth, each one just a few feet tall. Just above three of the four plinths, several objects seemed to hover, floating in mid-air, one above each. These objects matched those depicted in the mosaic on the floor. Above one floated the Stone of Fal, the next a cauldron atop it, and the third, a long spear, but nothing on the fourth, strangely. He wondered why for a moment, then realised that it must be the sword hanging from the belt around Lugh’s waist - the fabled Sword of Light, an immensely powerful weapon of magic by all accounts, and most likely the same sword depicted in the symbol on the back of the King’s robe.
Directly at the centre of the map on the floor stood a small, intricately carved, wooden structure which was several feet tall. It was a stand of sorts, on top of which sat, in a cradle, what he thought to be a small flute or similar musical instrument which the King now reached for. Oran watched intently as Lugh carefully raised the flute up to his pursed lips and blew one long note for several seconds, and then delicately replaced it on its cradle, saying, “Bow your head now, Oran, please. The high council will arrive presently.”
Oran obeyed, looking down again as he continued studying the mosaic for a few seconds with his gaze directed toward the floor. He didn’t seem to notice what was happening by the thrones off in front of him, until he heard a strange, ethereal voice utter the words, “Welcome, brother Lugh. Welcome, master Oran. Please step forward and face the high council.”
Oran snapped his head up quickly, looking in the direction from which the voice had just come. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing in front of him now, sitting on the three thrones which were just moments ago unoccupied.