The Answerer: A Modern Tale Of The Tuatha De Dannan Read online

  “Hey you in the boat,” he called. “If I treat what you say as true, just as a working hypothesis, will you let me down?” Declan looked up at the figure hanging stiffly in the air and gave a broad smile.

  “Good enough,” he said. “Come on down.” Sean found himself being lowered gently into the boat. He moved up to stand beside Declan at the prow.

  Declan’s face became serious. “Look Sean, I deeply regret taking you against your will but I’m afraid it was necessary. We have a problem and we need your help. There has been a number of murders and an important artefact has been stolen. Now, normally we would handle this ourselves but some of these men were killed in a way that we do not understand and we think weapons from your world may have been involved. We need your help to hunt the killer.”

  “Why me?” Sean asked. “I’m just a probationary Garde. Why not get someone from homicide? Someone who’s had experience.”

  Declan shrugged. “Getting such a person would be more complicated. You were available and we think you have the skills we need.” As he was speaking, the forest ended. The boat was still gliding silently up the river but now they were passing through open fields where black faced sheep and small, hairy cows grazed. The fields, however, only occupied the valley floor and the surrounding hills were steep and covered in thick forest. They rounded a bend and a small hill, close to the river, came into view. Its lower flanks were covered with blossom trees but the top was a steep, rocky outcrop. This had been augmented by high stone walls to form a formidable fortress. Inside the walls, a number a high gabled timber halls could be seen and from the highest of these there flew a green banner with a gold insignia.

  Declan smiled and spread his arms wide. “Welcome, Sean MacCarthy of the Garda Síochána, to Tyr na nOg, the land of the Tuatha de Dannan and to Carrig na Ardri, the home of the High King.”

  Chapter Five – A walk through an orchard.

  They pulled into a wooden landing, which was built out past thick reed beds, near the foot of the hill. Declan stepped out with the same easy grace he always showed and Sean hurried after him. They started to climb up through the blossom trees. After only a few steps, Sean stopped and stared at the trees in shock. They were apple trees in green leaf and white blossom but there was also ripe fruit hanging from the branches.

  He muttered to himself. “How is it that a tree can be in blossom and fruit at the same time?”

  Declan turned around and saw Sean starring at the trees. He smiled broadly, “Guarda MacCarthy, How’s that working hypothesis of yours coming along?” Sean didn’t reply but stopped staring and started to walk after Declan: for the first time accepting that he was now in another world and suddenly feeling very out of place in his Guard uniform. He was a guard though, and if a crime had been committed: it was surely his duty to co-operate with the local authorities and investigate.

  As they were walking up through the groves of apple blossom, Sean asked, “What was stolen?”

  “It was a sword: a very special sword,” Declan replied. “It was called An Fragarach: The Answerer. It was forged by our people many years ago and was originally the sword of Mannan MacLir: whom your ancestors considered to be the god of the sea. He gifted it to Cúchulainn, the greatest warrior of your people, and it passed then to Con of the Hundred Battles, who was High King of Ireland at the time. It became the sword of the king’s avenger and it could slice through any armour or shield and answer any injustice. No one could lie if it was held to their throat and it was rare indeed for anyone wielding that sword to be defeated in battle.”

  “I know about the King’s Avenger,” Sean said. “We learnt about him at Templemore. In old Ireland, he was the chief law enforcement officer of the High King. If a judge gave an order, it was his job to make sure the order was carried out.”

  Declan nodded. “And An Fragarach was a mighty tool to help him,” he said. “When Rory O’Connor, the last High King of Ireland, was being pressed hard by the Normans, his Avenger became separated from the main body of his army and retreated to the north. Fearing that he would be overwhelmed by numbers and that An Fragarach would fall into Norman hands, he gave sword to a young warrior to be hidden, to be kept safe. We sent an emissary to meet the warrior and arranged for the sword to be hidden in a fairy mound.” He stopped and turned to look directly at Sean. “This sword is dangerous, far too dangerous to be left free in a world that was losing its sense of myth and lore. The Lady Finola, our emissary, cast a mighty geis on the sword that it should remain hidden - and hidden it remained for nearly a thousand of your years.”

  “So, how did it come to be here?”Sean asked.

  “About forty of your years ago it was found by a young rebel…” Declan explained.

  “That would be during the time of the troubles in the north.” Sean said.

  “Just so. Anyway, he couldn’t control it and the sword possessed him. It became the focus of all his anger, of all his feelings of injustice and his need for revenge. When he encountered a company of English soldiers the results were...unpleasant. We knew we had to retrieve the sword. We also knew that it would be foolish to try and take it by force, so we again sent the Lady Finola. She persuaded the young rebel to surrender the spirit of the sword to her.”

  “The spirit of the sword?”

  “Yes. As a physical object, the sword is just a sword, but as An Fragarach, the Answerer, it is a mythical object and it was this mythical character that was returned here to Tyr na nOg. The physical sword remained in your world.”

  “So it was a myth that was stolen. How do you steal a myth? Why would you want to?”

  Declan smiled. “Sean you are now in Tyr na nOg,” he said. “Here myths are a solid reality. When the spirit of the sword was returned here, it once again assumed physical form. I really don’t know what would happen if it returned to your world.”

  By this time they had reached the fortress on top of the hill. Two massive wooden gates confronted them and on either side were tall stone towers. The gates were carved in intricate and complicated patterns. By carefully tracing the pattern with his eyes, Sean could make out two hounds, or maybe wolves, facing each other. The gates were closed and standing in front of them were two guards. They wore bright orange tunics under chain mail coats. On their heads were high crowned helmets and round, wooden shields were strapped to their left arms. One of them held a short, fighting spear, about six feet long and tipped with a vicious leaf shaped blade. The other held a great, double handed sword. They were terrible to look at: every inch of their being seemed to radiate violence and overwhelming strength. The sight of them filled Sean with an overwhelming sense of dread and fear. He felt sure that no army could stand against these two guards and it took every bit of courage he had not to run away as they looked at him.

  “Oh seriously!” Declan exclaimed. “Is this really necessary? You know who I am, you knew my mission, and you knew the company I would be bringing back.”

  “Declan,” the right hand guard replied, “we know you but there has been violence and murder and a dangerous article is missing. We need to know who you are bringing into the citadel.”

  Summoning every bit of his courage and will, Sean stepped forward and identified himself.

  “I am Guard Sean MacCarthy of the Garda Síochána na hÉireann. I am a guardian of the law and I am offering my assistance in solving a crime.”

  A brief silence followed and Sean straightened his uniform and looked the guards in the eye. Suddenly they seemed much smaller somehow. They were undoubtedly still capable fighters but he no longer felt the awful fear and dread. Also, each of them now only carried light, ceremonial spears.

  “That’s fine then,” the left hand one said, ”but we did have to check.”

  A memory rose in Sean’s mind, a memory from childhood tales. “It was a glamour,” he said, amazed. “You put a glamour on yourselves so that no one would dare challenge you!”

  Declan was laughing beside him. “And yet you did!’
he said. “You looked them in the eye and answered them back. This is priceless. Finn and Finbarr used their most fearsome glamour and they couldn’t scare a country policeman! This is a tale that will live long over many a dinner and it will get better at each telling.” The guards looked decidedly annoyed at this but Declan just walked past them, still laughing. “And a glamour is the simplest bit of magic for us. Children do it for fun and yet the mighty Finn and Finbarr cannot!”

  He was still laughing as he gestured at the gates. They swung open for him and Sean followed him into the citadel of the High King.

  Chapter Six – A royal audience.

  Inside there were a large number of tall, round buildings standing around a central, open space where a large oak tree was growing. The largest hall, from which the green banner was flying and which Sean guessed was the palace of the High King, was on the opposite side of the tree to the gate and it was here that Declan led Sean.

  Inside the building it was dark and Sean’s eyes took a while to adjust from the bright sunlight outside. Massive timber poles, carved in intricate shapes, surrounded a central fire pit. At the other end of the building was a raised dais supporting a large, flat stone. The building appeared empty and Declan walked swiftly around the fire to the dais at the other end. Sean took off his hat and followed close behind.

  “Your majesty!” Declan called into the darkness. “I have brought you a guest.” There was silence. Declan called again, this time clearly annoyed. “You must’ve known I was coming. I expected to find you on your throne, waiting to greet us.”

  A deep voice growled from behind them, “If you think I’m going to sit on that damnably uncomfortable stone any longer than I need to, you’ve had too much of Maeve’s cider. Let’s see you peace officer.” Sean turned around and found himself facing a giant of a man. A giant in all directions: very tall and very fat. He had dark red hair, a florid complexion and a long, untidy beard. Around his neck was a heavy, gold torc and he was dressed in an ample, brightly coloured, and heavily embroided, tunic. He stared intently at Sean with bright, royal blue eyes.

  “Hmm,” he said after a moment’s inspection. “He seems a bit small. Couldn’t you get someone bigger? This one couldn’t wrestle a boar to save his life.”

  “Your majesty,” Declan replied, with just the faintest hint of laughter in his voice, “May I present Sean Mac Carthy of the Garda Síochána na hÉireann. Who has been brought here to help catch a thief and solve a murder. I seriously doubt that there were any boars involved.”

  The king continued to look at Sean, examining him with a casual curiosity. “MacCarthy eh? One of the Eóganachta. I knew Éogan Mór, a good man. He had a temper about him mind you but a good man nonetheless.” Perhaps it was the personal connection but of the all the wonders he had seen this day, it was this casual reference to his ancient, semi-legendary clan ancestor that sent a shiver up Sean’s spine. Sean made an awkward attempt at a bow but the High King just waved his hand in dismissal.

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “All very important, I know. You’d better be on about it then. The fiana will be back from the hunt soon and I’m not sure that this little one would be entirely safe around them, even with you to protect him. He might get stepped on.” Declan made a graceful bow to the king and led Sean back outside.

  There was a woman waiting for them just outside the door. She was dressed in a white tunic that hung off one shoulder. She had flawless, pale skin and long, bright red hair that shone gold in the sunlight. She was by far the most beautiful woman Sean had ever seen and for a moment he was speechless.

  Then he leaned over and whispered to Declan. “Is that a glamour she has cast about herself?”

  Declan laughed. “No,” he replied. “That’s just as she is.” He walked over to her and gestured towards Sean. “My Lady Finola, this is the guard: Sean MacCarthy.” Turning to Sean, he said, “Sean, this is the Lady Finola. It was she who retrieved An Fragarach when it was last in your world.” Finola graced Sean with a brilliant, radiant smile.

  “I hope that you can help us solve this little puzzel quickly, Guard MacCarthy. I don’t want to have to do that again. I didn’t enjoy my last trip. Come, I will show you where An Fragarach was kept.”

  Chapter Seven – The crime scene.

  She led off to the side of the enclosure and to a small. stone building. It was of undressed drystone construction with low walls and a high, angled roof of slate shingles.

  “This is the treasure house where An Fragarach was kept under guard,” she said. “We have left everything untouched since the bodies were found. I suggest that you and Declan begin your investigation. I will not entre. I do not wish to see what is in there.”

  Declan and Sean had to bend down to walk through the low stone archway but once inside, they entered a large hall of polished marble: a hall much larger than the outside building. By this time, Sean’s sense of reality was so battered that he could not be shocked by anything - but he fell silent when he saw the bodies and the blood. He took a sharp breath. This was not a place of wonder. This was a place of horror.

  There were five bodies. Two were close to the door and three were around a raised stone platform in the middle of the hall. Sean had no experience in homicide but he had had some procedural training and wasn’t long before a certain professional interest took over. He bent down and carefully and silently examined each of the bodies in turn.

  The two close to the door were dressed in normal clothes and the way the bodies had fallen suggested that they had died facing each other. One had a small bullet hole in his back. When Sean carefully raised the body, he saw a massive wound with a sizeable part of the chest blown away. The spatter suggested that this was the source of most of the blood in this part of the hall.

  “We know that one,” Declan said. “He was Fítheal, a renegade: one of a small group of misfits who have escaped to your world and hire themselves out as spies and assassins. We track them down when we can but they normally keep a very low profile. We know this one fell out with the current group leadership about six months ago and was expelled. He then just disappeared, something he was very good at. It’s possible that he came here to steal An Fragarach for some group in your world. Whatever of that, it was here that he died. We just don’t know how he was killed, we have never seen wounds like that before.”

  “He was shot in the back with a military assault rifle,”Sean said. “The low calibre, high velocity ammunition only has a small entry wound but it sets up a supersonic shock wave in the body – hence the large exit wound.” Sean was already examining the other body. There were no obvious injuries but a small trickle of blood had flowed from his mouth as he lay on the floor.

  “We don’t know who that one is,” Declan said.

  “I do,” Sean said in answer. “He is William McConakel and his face is on wanted posters in every Guarda station in Ireland. He is a member of the Continuing Real IRA, a breakaway terrorist group that wants to continue the violence in the north. There are no obvious wounds on the body. I would need a post mortem to know the cause of death.”

  “No you don’t,” Declan said. “His heart has exploded inside him. If your doctors cut him open, they would find only mush in his chest.” Sean looked up in surprise but Declan only shrugged. “It’s a simple killing spell and the obvious one to use against someone who had no defences.” Sean frowned and once again wished that he was armed: this place was dangerous.

  He walked over to the other three bodies lying near the stone platform in the centre of the hall. Two were dressed as guards. They were lying on their backs on either side of the platform. They each had a single bullet hole in their chest and each was lying in a pool of blood. Sean knew that if he turned them over he would see the same horrific exit wound that he had seen before. The third body was that of an old woman. She was lying face down on the platform and had multiple bullet wounds in her back. Between her and the door there was a pile of bullets, undamaged but spent. Three of the li
ght, ceremonial spears used by the guards at the gate lay around the platform. There was a lot of blood: the sight and the stench of it sickened Sean but he was beginning to get a sense of what had happened.

  “I take it that the sword was on the platform?” Sean asked.

  Declan nodded. “Those two are twin brothers,” he said indicating the guards. “It was their week to watch over the sword. The woman is their mother. She often came to see her boys when they were on duty. Strictly speaking, it was forbidden but no one really cared enough to stop her. After all, it was only an old relic.”

  Sean walked over to the pile of bullets and said, “Declan, there will be others like this around the hall, Could you show me where they are?” Declan nodded and waved his hand. Around the hall the spent bullets glowed bright red. Sean carefully noted the distribution and then walked over to the spent shell casings. He picked one up and showed it to Declan, who nodded. Around the hall the spent shell casings glowed yellow. There were two large piles near the door. Nowhere was there any sign of the guns. Seam sighed. He had not personally encountered murder before and the brutality and sadness of it cut deep into his heart.