"Death?!"
The exclamation of suprise from the High Healer was quickly shushed by the child who was laying the cards down on the sandy ground.
"No Setanta, it doesn't always mean death you know. It means change. The cards are telling me that you are going to experience a great change soon."
The old Healer smiled at the child. He indulged in the fortune telling at the wishing tree to encourage this young one. Loughlin was forever shuffling and playing with the cards and it did no harm. Later today he was to take the sap of the Wishing Tree and would with luck become a healer. Setanta was proud of the child to take the risk. If the connection to the plane of life was not opened fully by the sap then Loughlin would die.
All the healers in the citadel had faced this death, but this was Armengar, and it was a truism that all of the people in the citadel faced death every day.
"Hurry along now Loughlin - you must prepare yourself for later. I will be by again soon."
Setanta turned from the hospital and the Wishing Tree and walked towards the Smithy. He had a few arrangements to make before the journey with Corthar out to the passes. And beyond.
Changes. Too many changes already, Setanta thought. I don't need any more things to change, except maybe for the damn Calebii to stop their endless war. So much had happened since the Farseekers had arrived, so many things had gone wrong. Diarmuid you fool, why did you do it. You should have been our Protector, would have been our Protector if you hadn't tried to kill the wolfman.
Mactire.
Madra.
Mage or Druid. Spellcaster or Wizard. Never one thing, always two. Setanta had no great love for the creature that had taught so many of the people the ways of letters, and it still galled him to see Diarmuid's own daughter learning the ways of spellcraft with the beast. Too many secrets with that one, too many things hidden.
Chareos wasn't like that. No, the new Protector was open, friendly, had the trust of the Volk. Barely a year into his Protectorship and the people had a sense of unity as never before. Despite being led by an outsider.
Secrets were leaking out though. Changes were coming. The Priests who had started magics were the most obvious sign of change, but not the only one. He had seen something in the forest, beyond the passes. A sign, but not one which he knew the meaning of. It was time to find out, and Corthar was just the man for the job.
The funeral pyre burned high at the edge of the cliff as the sun set in the west. The priests said their words which would send the soul pattern of Loughlin to the far off Isles of the Mighty where all heroes lie. He had taken the sap of the Wishing Tree but had not survived the test. The healers stood around the pyre with heads bowed. Setanta held tighty to his staff, the weight of years pressing hard upon him. How many children had he watched die as they struggled to become slanaighear. How many more would he see dead if brave armengarians did not risk the Tree to become healers.
Off to the side behind Midir stood a tall armengarian dressed in an outlandish costume of yellow. Filth he was, a warrior who refused to kill, refused even to fight except in defence of the healers. Dangerous he was, because he carried in him too many secrets, just as Mactire did. But I know your secrets, and those of Deor, and you will not harm us with your strange notions.
Dangerous too for Midir to be so accommodating of the pacifist, to be seen with him outside of sorties and missions against the Calebii. Midir was an average healer in Setanta's opinion, and not a great leader. He had no concept of command and Setanta had not put enough effort into training Midir in the ways of Ard Slanaighear. He shouldn't have needed to since there should have been no way that Midir would ever replace Setanta. He openly associated with both Cosaint and Mactire and this should have made him unlikely as a successor, and yet his skill with the Wishing Tree made him popular amongst the healers.
Setanta steeled himself at the thought of dying. Not now, not with Sionna gone. He had been a fool to groom only one person to be his successor, it was a stupid mistake. Sionna's death, and his last words to her, still stung at Setanta. He would have time though, the Calebii wouldn't attack in force until later in the year, and by then he would have trained someone else to take over in the event of his demise.
Death.
Looking at the burning pyre Setanta gripped Loughlin's fortune telling card in his hand.
Change.
"Rest in Peace Loughlin. Be with the Ancestors."
Corthar walked at a pace that amazed Setanta. So much armour, so many weapons and still he was forcing Setanta to jog every few paces to keep up with the small group that was heading to the passes. Out they walked, from the Tree and the Smithy, out of the inner gate. Walking over the dusty circle that Chareos and Mactire said was once magical long ago. Out of the second gate and onto the Plateau. They were headed for Phoenix pass and as the sun blazed down from a cloudless sky Setanta relaxed into his own thoughts.
He had to find her. Had to see her again.
Don't leave the Plateau, never leave the plateau. Everyone knew that no one went down to the lower parts of the island. Secrets. The scouts had been down there, not often, never for long, but they had been there. And Setanta had been there once before too. Just once, and that was when he had seen her - moving through the trees, healing a fallen armengarian and then slipping away again.
No one was ever allowed down there, but Setanta knew enough secrets to be made an exception. The lawkeeper Eirlys had many, many secrets and her son Dalben happened to be stationed at Phoenix pass. The small scouting party would be allowed to pass, allowed to go down to Calebii lands. The official reason given to Chareos was that Setanta had discovered some healing herbs that could be of great benefit to the hospital. It was a good enough explanation.
Corthar knew it was a lie, but was a good enough friend to know not to press for the real reason. He knew that it was important and that was all that mattered. Chareos would not be well pleased to find out that the Siege Master was going on a scouting trip, nor would the First Gan. But what was one more secret in Armengar?
They arrived at the Phoenix pass at twilight and waited until the dead of night before Dalben lead the party down along the winding river. It was not an easy journey and when they cleared the pass and walked along level ground again there was a sense of accomplishment which lasted several minutes before being replaced by a feeling of fear. They were in the unknown, within Calebii territory.
Dalben had managed to move the small group around the Calebii fortifications with great skill, but their patrols could well be moving near to the armengarians, and it was rumoured that some Calebii could see in the pitch black of night. With no light of their own the armengarians were well aware that having such eyesight would be an enormous advantage, although with no clouds the stars lit up enough for Dalben to lead them in the right direction. They were headed to Coill Oiartharach.
The forest could be seen from the plateau, extending to the far north of the island. Many tales and legends talk of Coill Oiartharach and Setanta knew more than most. It was where Heramacles had hidden when the burden of leadership grew too much. It was where the Red Queen had threatened to burn her generals if they had not followed her orders. It was where Cuimhneacht had avenged Vargas' death. It was where the demons and fey lived, where the Calebii capital was hidden, where the secrets of magic were made.
All just stories Setanta told himself. Just stories...nothing to worry about. He had one of the finest scouts and one of the greatest warriors with him. And was he not a formidable healer himself? Even so Setanta offered up a prayer to Heramacles, to the Red Queen, to Cillte, to Vargas, to Diarmuid, to Sionna and even to Loughlin.
"Watch over me my brothers and sisters."
The sun was rising and the small group entered the forest.
Corthar cursed as he tried to carefully move through the undergrowth. This was not going according to plan. Entering the forest had been easy enough, Dalben had even spotted a Calebii patrol and they had avoided it with ease. But then some strange creature had appeared out of nowhere - was it a bear? Whatever it was it had been strong and viscious and by the time it was dead Setanta was nowhere to be seen. Dalben had picked up the trail, but even he was finding it confusing saying that there were two sets of footprints. One of which were those of a child.
A shout came from behind as an arrow shot into the Armengarian at the back. Calebii! Corthar drew his weapons and grimaced. This was not good, but at least some Calebii would die before long. The Caleb archer notched another arrow and called to his comrades as the armengarians charged.
Setanta returned to his senses. The bear had attacked and just then he had seen her. With no thought of the danger he was leaving his companions in he had run after her. Then - something strange had happened - he felt as though he were leaving his body, or leaving the world. It was intoxicating.
His return to the normal world was gradual. Awareness of the green of the trees, the heat of the sun through the forest canopy. The realisation of the knowledge that he now had. The sounds of...battle?
With a start Setanta ran towards the screams of men and found the armengarians in a pitched battle with a small group of Calebii. Looking around in a panic he saw Corthar on the ground, bleeding heavily. He ran to the smith and crouched over him. Setanta began to channel his healing power into Corthar.
A raven landed on a branch above, drawn by the smell of death.
Sorrow.
How could he have left Corthar behind. He must live! By the powers of the planes of light and life he has to live!
A second raven landed above.
Joy.
The wound was healing. Corthar would live, and Setanta would bring the secret of the Wishing Tree back to the citadel.
A third raven perched in the branch.
A girl.
Whatever, or whoever she was, that girl was a life saver. She had in the past saved an armengarian with her healing powers. But the information that Setanta would bring back would save many many more.
A fourth raven.
A boy.
Poor Loughlin. The card he had shown to Setanta was correct, there was going to be a great change amongst the healers.
A fifth.
Silver.
The silver of Corthar's chain mail moved as he groggily returned to conciousness. His eyes swam and he saw Setanta moving to his leg, starting to heal the wound there. Corthar saw the Calebii approaching from behind and started to shout a warning.
A sixth bird rested in the tree
Gold.
The Gold on the Calebii's helmet glinted in the sun as he brought his spear down through Setanta's chest. Blood flowed out onto Corthar's leg as he jumped up to attack the soldier. A swift stab and the Calebii fell.
Dalben rushed to Corthar, "Hurry, we must leave now. We have driven off this scouting party but more will return. We must head back to the pass!"
The seventh bird landed on the tree and looked down at the dead bodies in the clearing.
Secrets.
Corthar pulled the body of Setanta over his shoulder and started to run after Dalben. A card fell from the High Healers pouch, Loughlins card of change. It landed on the ground beside the Calebii as the last breath of life left Setanta.
In Armengar, everyone faced death every day. And some things never change.
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