PROLOGUE
The clashing of the swords sent lighting down to earth with the
fury of an epic battle. With each thrust and stroke Eire's heart was pierced.
Her valiant warriors had engaged themselves on a bloody battle, a battle
that threatened to tear the very skin from her immortal body. Her champion
was dead, though unjustly killed, Michael had been conquered. The God Donn
had claimed him and taken him to the mortal world after the challenger
Don Dorcha had taken his head. Michael had been reborn, his soul intact,
but the Otherworld was forgotten to him, his magic gone. Eire could not
have predicted the bloodshed. The Otherworld was her's to protect, but
it now seemed a slip off a walk on a thread and its existence would cease.
Her favor on Michael had caused the civil unrest and Don Dorcha's blind
declaration of war on Michael.
The warriors knew not who was right and who was wrong anymore. They
had chosen sides in the beginning, but now it seemed pointless and intolerable
to continue. Were the warriors loyal to Michael to fight without the leadership
of their Lord, or submit now to the dictatorship of Don Dorcha? Where was
Eire in this conflict, they asked? Could she have prevented this, or did
she perhaps not want to?
Upon Michael and Saoirse's arrival to the Otherworld, Saoirse was given
immortality. Eternal peace and joy seemed in their hands, but they knew
not that Morrighan had left a legacy for herself. Eire had ordered her
expulsion from the Otherworld, she was executed the day after Michael and
Saoirse had wed. Her soul was reborn on the land of Eire, she was now the
illegitimate daughter of a filthy and malicious murderer and an anonymous
peasant girl, she had no birthright and no clan - doomed to a mortal life
of anguish. Her lover Don Dorcha refused to mourn her death or accept her
guilt in the matter. He plotted revenge as the lovers lived in bliss.
PART I
Eire favored Michael above all others because of the purity of his soul,
and for its strength. He was courageous, loyal, moral and honest. Michael
and Saoirse's home was a haven in the Otherworld. Michael's kingdom was
not at war or even in conflict. Though a good Celtic fight wasn't rare.
Warrior's hearts are restless and battles are as much for sport as for
honor. Eire had retired quietly into the blue mists of the Otherworld,
Michael now being her champion and defender. He was as loved as any King
and chief ever was. But naturally as in any great legend Michael had an
enemy.
The temptress Morrighan, who had failed to seduce Michael away from
his angel and muse Saoirse, cursed them the moment before her execution.
Morrighan's lover Don Dorcha was a warrior for Eire, the strongest and
most bloody. He was merciless on the battlefield and became consumed with
the bloodshed upon the first clash with his steel. Eire had bestowed much
praise on him, he had conquered any of her challengers without question
and with ferocity.
In Don Dorcha's previous lives he had always been the same warrior.
His strength of body and soul had made him a natural leader of warriors.
He was unchangeable and without compassion for those he considered weak.
However, many had regarded him as an abomination, a pure evil who would
leave 10 000 rotting corpses on a battlefield without a second thought.
Despite his validity as a warrior Don Dorcha was emotionally weak. He
existed in extremes and his lust had never been an acceptation. Morrighan
had been a conquest he could not deny himself. Little did he know that
she was a manipulative vixen who sought only to satisfy her own lustful
desires. She seduced Don Dorcha, without difficulty, the day of his final
arrival in the Otherworld. He had died and been reborn thirteen times and
now he would remain immortal in the Otherworld for eternity. Don Dorcha's
arrogance prevented him from realizing that Morrighan had used him.
When Michael had discovered the existence of Saoirse in the Natural
Plain he knew they were destiny. He gained permission from Eire to have
her brought forth to the Otherworld and gain immortality. Eire had been
enthused and touched by Michael's instant devotion to this mortal lady
and did not hesitate to grant him his request. He was valuable to Eire,
a diplomat that also had no fear of taking up the sword when it became
necessary. He preserved her will against all others, but remained kind
hearted, compassionate and generous.
Morrighan saw Michael's endeavor as ludicrous. To choose what she saw
as an infantile and inferior mate, as mortal no less, was insulting. The
delight in the challenge of seducing Eire's champion away from the woman
he loved was irresistible. Physically Morrighan already desired him, he
was lean and muscular, and she envisioned his stamina to be astronomical.
Despite her most impressive efforts Michael had spurned her for the pale
mortal. Morrighan's contemptible act was a personal slight against Eire.
Eire chose the worst possible punishment for the harlot of a goddess. Morrighan
was to be exiled for a lifetime in the Natural Plain. Through execution
in the Otherworld, Morrighan would thus be reborn, a mortal, possessing
none of the virtues given to dwellers of the magical realm.
Despite the unjust act against them, Michael and Saoirse chose to forgive
Morrighan and asked Eire to spare her this heinous punishment. However,
Eire's decision would not be reversed, the Goddess was law.
An anguished Don Dorcha offered the lives of one hundred of his warriors
in his lover's place. But Eire was firm, and her judgment was carried out
swiftly. Her servant performed his duty with a swift clean slice of a sword's
blade.
Morrighan's body disintegrated and her soul passed through the invisible
veil between the two worlds. She now resided in the womb of a peasant girl.
Don Dorcha stood in silent fury. He observed that Eire's precious Michael
and his wife did not even attend the execution. Morrighan had been banished
due their desires, and no one else's, as he saw it in his mind. He viewed
Eire's act as a separation as his loyalty to her. No longer would he defend
her and her realm, he vowed revenge for himself - on Eire, Michael and
Saoirse. If only Don Dorcha had known how inconsequential he had been to
Morrighan, the centuries of violence that were to follow could have been
prevented.
PART II
The first declaration of war was upon Michael. If Don Dorcha could destroy
the bastard, he would be vindicated. Eire's champion would be dead and
the pale girl would be a widow. Michael and his loyal warlords were gathered
on a vast green field, half shadowed by Michael's castle. The were engrossed
in sport and war games when Don Dorcha and his warriors approached. Michael
expected a sporting game of skills, but his expectation were blown apart
when a Dark warrior struck down Michael's man, Cian. Within an instant
Michael drew his sword and with his warlords behind him, charged Don Dorcha.
The sky became black and was ripped by bolts of lightning with each clash
of swords.
Inside the castle Saoirse rose with the first clash of Michael's sword
on Don Dorcha's. She knew intuitively that the energy around the castle
had been altered. She came out onto the balcony and was weak at the sight
of her beloved in violent battle. She remained poised on the balcony, witnessing
the bloodshed.
The sun did not rise the following morning and the battle continued
on. Hundreds of warriors, men and women alike, came from all corners of
the Otherworld, joining both sides. The battle continued for another three
days without pause. Saoirse however could still see Michael, he was alive
and holding his own.
By midnight that evening Michael burst into the bedroom chamber where
Saoirse lay restless on their bed. She shot up and rushed to him. She supported
and held fast to his battered body. Once he had recovered somewhat Michael
undressed and lay on the bed. Saoirse moved in closely next to him and
he took her hand and held it to his heart.
"The Dark Lord has declared war on myself and Eire. He reasons the banishment
of Morrighan gives him cause. He will not cease until he has my head."
explained Michael.
"And where is Eire in this? Why doesn't she stop this? How many more
dead does she need?" asked Saoirse.
"I cannot question Eire, she has given me too much to ever confront
her. I have called upon her, but she does not answer. It seems I am alone
to lead my men in defeating Don Dorcha."
"I am afraid for the entirety of the Otherworld, not just for you."
"As well you should be, but so long as I am alive no harm will ever
come to you. I will lay down my life before he ever sets his eyes on you,
promised Michael, Don Dorcha has himself retired to a camp, leaving his
warriors without a leader, They fight on blindly and killing my men over
a woman who barely deserved the immortality that had been justly taken
from her."
"And you will return to the battlefield."
"I must. If those men are willing to fight and die to defend us and
Eire, I am honourbound to lead them, to give them the best possible chance
for a victory. But I will come back to be with you as often as I can. I
ask you to understand, and that you remain within the confines of the palace,
otherwise Don Dorcha will have the opportunity to take you and use you
to defeat me."
Their lives stood in limbo for one hundred years. Every few days Michael
would return to Saoirse, but then leave again to rally his troops. Every
day hundreds died and hundreds more crossed over from the Natural Plain
and join up in the battles. Michael now had a greater stake in resolving
this stand still, Saoirse was now carrying his child. Michael had promised
his wife that their son would be born into a land not besieged with violence
and rivers of blood. He also knew the anguish the war was causing Saoirse
was not healthy. An end must come soon or the Otherworld could potentially
fall deeper into turmoil. Eire remained absent still, in all of this.
But as in so many wars, eagerness, unaccompanied by guile, leads to
error. In an ambitious move Michael called upon Don Dorcha to fight him
alone , man to man, on an even setting. Michael was far too honorable to
deceive Don Dorcha, and The Dark Lord knew it. They would meet on plateau
of the Unicorns, the mount at the center of the Otherworld.
Michael drew is sword and awaited Don Dorcha, confident he could defeat
his enemy. Soon The Dark Lord was before him and Michael readied himself.
"It will never come down to just the two of us, Lord of the Dance." warned
Don Dorcha. Before Michael could escape he was surrounded by twenty of
the Dark Lord's warriors. They disarmed Michael and beat him to his knees.
Don Dorcha knelt down to Michael and spoke, "The Otherworld is mine...Your
wife is mine." Michael spat in the arrogant bastard's face. With a fast
clean slice Michael was dead and the Otherworld was indeed Don Dorcha's.
PART III
At the sight of Michael's head in the hands of the Dark Lord was enough
to gain the surrender of Eire's defenders. Saoirse had known instantly
when Michael had been executed. Half her soul had been ripped from inside
her. Had she not felt the movement of Michael's son within her, Saoirse
surely would have died at that moment. Michael was not completely lost
to her so long as his child lived. Don Dorcha's men broke through the door
of Saoirse's chamber. As they went to seize her she held up one of Michael's
swords. They approached, but Saoirse would not be intimidated. She had
killed six of them before Don Dorcha himself arrived, with another ten
men.
Saoirse could not take them all on, despite her courage. Don Dorcha
kept Saoirse locked in that room, the one that had shared so much joy with
Michael. Her confinement was as much a torture as a comfort. Each day the
Dark Lord's new mate, Queen Moya, came to antagonized rather than tend
to Saoirse and her unborn child. Moya was severely attractive as well as
taunting, but Saoirse kept faith.
The Otherworld was falling away outside the confines of Saoirse's room.
The magic this realm had once possessed for uncountable eons was turning
and dying like the forest leaves at Lughnasadh. Don Dorcha was all there
was now, the magical folk: the unicorns, faeries, leprechauns, gnomes,
magicians and countless others had receded totally into the blue mists
and hidden realms of the Otherworld. Hopefully unreachable by the evil
reign.
Though Don Dorcha had once considered making Saoirse another one of
his conquests, he concluded that a greater shame could be brought upon
Michael if his son became property of the new, dark world.
The child came on the day of Lughnasadh, the same day his parents had
been wed by Eire. Saoirse gave birth alone, Michael would have been the
only one she wanted to be with her. Saoirse saw her son's face and felt
that overwhelming sense of recognition, she saw his father and the resurrection
of Michael's Otherworld in the baby's clear blue eyes.
Years past and Eire still made no appearance, despite Saoirse's plaintiff
cries. Ryan was now nine and thankfully had known only his mother, but
still saw the war from the haven of the balcony. Moya did come occasionally,
to attempt to intimidate Saoirse with threats against her son. Ryan stood
strong along side his mother as he looked upon the vast fields of tattered
earth and a black sky splattered with lightening. Saoirse told him everyday
of his father, and the events that had led them to the present day. Ryan
had never seen Don Dorcha, but he was the only he hated as much as he loved
his mother and the father that had never known anything more of him than
the touch of the movement of his then tiny bones within his mother's womb.
Saoirse prayed each day to Eire to bring about an end to the dictatorship
in the Otherworld. She wondered if her son stood a chance to be like his
father, valiant and strong, or would a resurrection in the Natural Plain
be is only chance.
PART IV
Saoirse awoke one morning in an unfamiliar place. The light surrounding
her was soft and haunting, a blue mist encompassed the soft knoll on which
she lay. Then from the darkness that lay beyond the light came a lady Saoirse
had not seen in nearly ten years. To the opposite came a child-like creature,
bathed in a shimmering gold garment.
"Eire, where is my son?"
"I had only enough power to bring one of you and Eire asked me to get
you......" began the Little Spirit.
"How could you leave Michael's son over me!?! That boy is all that remains
of the magic of your Otherworld!"
"The Little Spirit will go and be with him. Don Dorcha knows the power
the boy possesses, he will try to control it, not to extinguish it," Eire
explained, "Saoirse, your prayers are going to be answered shortly, but
it will take enormous courage on your part. On the day of Samhain the fabric
between this world and the Natural Plain will tear open and you shall pass
back into the world from which you came. Michael is not dead Saoirse, he
had one life left to live. His soul waits for you to bring him back through.
His conscious will not remember us though. Find him on that day and enlighten
him, your love can guide him back to us."
"And what if my son meanwhile?"
"Saoirse, Michael trusted me without question, do the same or Don Dorcha
will never be vanquished."
PART V
A man sat in the "Lovers' Bed", it was not yet dawn, but somehow he
had been drawn from the village over which he was clan chief by an intangible
force. It was the day of Samhain, the day feared most by those of the Natural
Plain, when the inhabitants of the Otherworld could cross over and wreak
havoc on the living. Despite his reservations, the man knew he had a purpose
in being where he was, but what in Eire's name the reason was remained
a mystery.
The day passed and slipped into night without event and the man now
slept and dreamed. He saw images of evil and violence. Rivers of blood
and anguished desperate slaves plagued the man's mind. But the dream turned
and a divine creature was before him. She was about to touch his face when
something hurled him out of his dormant state. There next to him was the
same woman as he had just seen, was he still in the dream?
"Who are you?" he asked, sitting upright. He was consumed by her beauty,
so overwhelmed he could barely breathe. She knelt down close to him.
"Do you recognize me Michael? Do you remember me?" she asked.
"Only from a dream, the same one I have every time I sleep. But you
had never called me by name before."
"Dreams are echoes of the other lives you have lived."
"Are you part of those lives?"
"I am your life." She held his head again, like the time she had taken
him back from Morrighan, and brought their lips together. She put all the
love from her spirit into him. Michael was resurrected and it was Saoirse
who had brought him back.
"Saoirse, what has Eire done to us?"
"Such pain, waves of pain for so long. For nine years she let me believe
that you were completely lost to me, I though Ryan would never know you
and that Don Dorcha would be for eternity."
"Ryan........?"
"The Dark Lord has our son and only Eire could know what has transpired
in the time that I have been here, time is so irrelevant between the two
worlds and a thousand years my have passed."
"Eire did tell you what you must do?" Saoirse nodded, she took the blade
from its sheath and with her lips on his plunged it into his gut. She rose
and turned away from her beloved, refusing to see the blood rushing from
him, blanketing the grass. Saoirse stepped back into the Otherworld, where
Eire waited for her. Michael soon followed, he came up behind Saoirse and
took her hand.
"Michael you are now an immortal of the Otherworld. You cannot be killed
again. Take my sword and reclaim your son and this realm." instructed Eire.
In an instant Michael and Saoirse were on the outskirts of the castle.
Rows of warriors stood in formation as they practiced fighting, dueling
and swordplay. A tall pale taskmaster, a man in his twenties, shouted out
orders and the warriors obeyed in unison. Don Dorcha appeared, with Morrighan,
now an immortal of the Otherworld, on one arm and on the other Queen Moya.
Michael and Saoirse witnessed the young man bow to the Dark Lord and kiss
the hands of Morrighan and Moya.
"My son will no longer be a pawn of Don Dorcha's." vowed Michael. Michael
and Saoirse walked boldly towards Don Dorcha and their son. Morrighan's
eyes widened and she backed away. Don Dorcha had never sensed fear before
in all of his existence, but the rage and fire in Michael's eyes nearly
stopped his heart.
"DON DORCHA!" Michael yelled and charged him. Ryan stepped in front
of Michael's path, his sword drawn and raised.
"Ryan, no......" cried Saoirse. He saw his mother and in an instant
knew who Michael was, but did not relent.
"Your son is loyal to me, I've raise him and taught him to be a warrior
and a leader. You and your wife's abandonment of him left me no choice
but to make him mine." said Don Dorcha, with confidence and malign.
"Never!" replied Saoirse.
"Ryan, kill this man for me." ordered Don Dorcha. The duel began and
father and son battled like mortal enemies, their skills evenly matched.
Michael had opportunities to take Ryan down, but each time let them pass.
Eventually it came Ryan's turn, and he knocked his father onto his back.
Ryan slid the blade of his sword down his father's neck. Ryan knelt down
and brought his face an inch from Michael's. Ryan spoke quiet words that
only Michael heard.
To Don Dorcha's horror Ryan relented and stood, offering his hand to
his father. Michael stood and faced Don Dorcha, with his son, and Saoirse
came to stand with them. "You were right Don Dorcha, when you said it would
never come down to just the two of us." spoke Michael. Michael looked to
the sky and in one glorious sheet of lightening it became white and light
surrounded the reunited trio. Michael held up Eire's sword and Ryan put
his hand on his father's shoulder and knew the end was coming. Michael
propelled the sword like a lance through Don Dorcha's heart.
Don Dorcha, an immortal of the Otherworld, dispersed into simple energy.
The power of Eire's chosen family was prime and against their collective,
Don Dorcha was totally impotent.
Ryan went and picked up Eire's sword. He stared into Morrighan's eyes,
she knew he was giving her this last chance. She summoned her crows and
in a vortex of black, she disappeared. Saoirse went to confront Moya, but
she had also vanished. When she tuned around tears came to her eyes at
the sight she beheld. Father and son had their arms around each in an embrace
that was twenty-three years overdue. Ryan turned to the assembly and addressed
them:
"By the virtue of my father Don Dorcha's tyranny is over. We have bided
our time under the Dark Lord and through the power of Eire, Michael has
returned." The warriors kneeled before Michael. It was at that moment that
Eire appeared with the Little Spirit in tow. It was thanks to the Little
Spirit that Ryan had not betrayed his father. She had enabled him to keep
faith. The Little Spirit had stayed with him when he had been frightened
as a child and helped him understand why he was alone. She kept hope alive
in him and when Moya tried to convert him, she reassured him of his parent's
love. Ryan compliance and false devotion to Don Dorcha had always been
a ruse, to convince the Dark Lord utterly and then to destroy him one day.
Michael presented Eire with her sword, she took it and the sky erupted
in a glorious blue. Eire held the blade in her hands and gave it back to
Michael.
"The Otherworld is yours now, Michael, yours to rule and protect. I
will be with you and your family in spirit and with devotion. You can find
me in the blue mists and in the rivers, from the Otherworld to the Natural
Plain." and with those words Eire vanished.
Michael turned and raised Eire's sword to the leagues of warriors and
they erupted in cheering. And Michael responded to their loyal cries, "YES,
YES, YES!!!"
PART VI
That evening, before Saoirse joined Michael, she sat with her now grown
son and asked him to tell her what it was he had said to his father at
their duel. Ryan kissed his mother's cheek and led her slowly down the
hall.
"It was something for him and me. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Saoirse smiled. Ryan left his mother and retired to his own room.
Saoirse entered her bedroom, Michael waiting there for her.
The passion of their reunion brought about a rejuvenation and ecstatic
uplifting, that spread from them to the entire Otherworld. All had been
healed.
Sons and daughters followed for Saoirse and Michael, and Ryan became
a successor to his father, ruling honorably over all. No doubt there still
exists men and women loyal to Don Dorcha, but they do not make themselves
known. The Otherworld remains a magical haven and the Lord of the Dance
is supreme.
EPILOGUE
From time to time, down through the ages, the Lord of the Dance returns
to the Natural Plain. He come to unite us, those who'll will one day join
him in the last realm of pure magic, the Otherworld.
THE END
©1997 Erin Allen
The artiste extraordinaire..
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