Fire Mage

There weren't always dragons in the Valley but Y Ddraich yew in the churchyard of the village of Dranai had at last flowered in the dry, barren year of 717...

The ancient Yew had not flowered in seven long century turns but had lit up yellow like a pale sun and as the twisted yew's small flowers faded, a burst of bitter scarlet came forth, of poison berries so many that no green of the yew could show. Berries as red as the ceremonial robes of the priest born as they carried water and clean towels back and forth to the Headman of Dranai's house.

Yew berries of a bright crimson never seen in living memory. Yew berries of a brighter red than the blood of the Headman's wife pouring out onto the clean flagstone floor as the heavy silence was broken, at last, by one sad cry.

She was born again.

Or as the huddled villagers whispered fearfully to each other 'she has returned' all knowing her return would bring them. The winged ones, the ancient ones, the spell binders. The Ddraich so vast and wise but of might and malice beyond the ken of mortals...and with them them would come their magic, unravelling the world for better or for worse...

'Harken oh Wyvern, oh Ddraich as ancient as time, truth bringers return homewards. The implacable light is returning. Oh Ddraich'

Chapter One

'Harken oh Wyvern, oh Ddraich as ancient as time, truth bringers return homewards. The implacable light is returning. Oh Ddraich'

The priests hymn echoed down the hillside, interweaving as the chant rose and fell in harmony, a beautiful melody of the lilting valley voices but the high screams of the woman giving birth could still be heard over the refrain, her agony too deep to be masked by singing. A red robed priestess darted swiftly up the hill to the Headman's house, past the gathering men building high bonfires of clean pine, the scent filling the clearing.

She hurried on with the bundle of clean linens in her arm and two young priests raced behind her, their bronze pans of heated water sloshing over the edge, their crimson robes hitched up to prevent tripping.

Many among the villagers bent their heads in prayer as birds songs faded to intermittent chirrups and the first stars started to appear scintillating, pulsing. The night was now falling fast and soon the almost dark new crescent moon began to climb above the lit protection fires, above the high crags of the mountain.

The Headwoman's screams were rising closer and closer together in octaves shrill, pained that caused the young priests to falter, so one by one the villagers joined in the chanting to hold a protection shield of fire and song. As one the entire Red village of Dranai moved forward and began to circle the cottage singing the soothing lull that rolled down the valley like haar sea fog they were too far inland to ever feel. The chant was almost monotone, a plea sung over and over they all knew from childhood memory sung by parents, grandparents, passed down eons.

'Harken oh Wyvern, oh Ddraich as ancient as time, truth bringers return homewards. The implacable light is returning. Oh Ddraich'

The fires sparked, embers of bright gold, vermilion so strong it almost blinded those near it as flames licked up into the ink night, higher, higher until seemed to join the myriad of stars now out.

Villager after villager began to rise to join the triskelion circle of the priest born in an spiral dance of infinity, of protection....and as they chanted and danced, each carried a log from their winter wood piles to add to the bonfires as the circle snaked round the Headman's cot.

Only the Headman neither danced nor chanted but stood rock still as the harsh granite crags above the village of Dranai.

Pen Cearnach the Red, his namesake russet mane flecked in silver shining brightly, silver the twined torc on his broad neck and thin leaved crown on his head, both halos in the firelight. He clenched huge fists and bit the side of his cheek and lips so hard that blood glimmered but his tears remained unshed.

He glowered at the crowds as the final spiral dances started and the drummers rushed forward, small bodhrans of stretched goat hide in their hands to beat the last tempos. His heart ached in a pain that was tightening in his chest with every minute that passed.

Drumbeat staccato loud under the chant throbbed in his ears but was not loud enough to hold back sounds from his cottage as the final scream came, a groaning scream of wrenched pain, a bone weary groan of relief more than scream.

And silence fell. A silence broken only by the hiss and crackle of the bonfires. Silence velvet heavy fell over the crowd of men, women and the wide eyed children all stood still, waiting ..and waiting, in their heads and words some praying, others petrified, all hoping for her..

The village Dranai froze for a spun moment like after the church bell reverberation, a silence that seemed hours, seemed into eternity as faces turned to each other then turned towards the Headman, then lastly to the red cluster of priesthood born. No words were needed as every face held the question.

A senior priestess stepped forward hesitantly, maybe to speak but before her first word, the silence was broken.

The thin cry tugged hearts, the tiny cry of a new-born of any species, human or beast. It came again, weak, forlorn, the cry of a baby now motherless forever.

Pen Cearnach swore softly and the sound was heard loudly in the silence by all near him. He turned to face the crowd and his blue eyes seemed almost grey steel as tears pushed against his eyeballs. He held in the aching pain with the strength of his clan but his heart beat cruelly like the hide drums before and his mind screamed over and over

'Help her, help her, oh Heavens help her.' He stilled his mind knowing there was no hope, no help now and whispered 'Farewell Pen Alinach, golden beauty, golden goddess, gold love of my life.'

The village seemed to darken a moment as he felt her near him and looking up he knew her spirit was somewhere above him leaving. He tried to hold her, knowing it was impossible and he felt her spirit going, rising with the wind that sprang up

'Nooo....nooo Pen Alinach, stay, Ali, stay Ali ' the words were wrenched out of his mouth and his resolve broke in despair 'Love of my life Anam Ali stay...love Ali cara I can't....' Cearnach groaned and fell to his knees and the villagers around him stood appalled in silence, in tears and some in deep fear.

But as Cearnach wept, the door of his cottage opened and in the light of the entrance was the Head priest. In his arms he cradled something mewling and tiny. The crowd moved forward craning, murmuring and the Priest stepped out of the cottage into the silence. A tiny blood covered girl child lay in his arms.

'A blanket' he rasped. He turned to the Headsman 'A cloth, a cloak, a rag to wrap this poor child in?' He held the tiny golden baby up for all to see and sad eyes beseeched the silent crowd. But all Dranai stared back at him faces of a sea of emotions anger, sorrow, hate but the overriding wave was fear.

Pen Cearnach, Headsman of Dranai got slowly to his feet, tears streaming his lined face. He stumbled as he stepped up on to the door slab beside the red draped priest. He looked down, numb and dazed, then after a moment he tried to reach out to the wailing golden baby. His child, the child of Pen Alinach the Gold and Pen Cearnach the Red...his daughter, his Alinach's long awaited daughter of the Dranai.

His hand would not, could not touch the baby and he let it slide back to his side. He stared down at the baby's unearthly beautiful face and a feeling of sorrow, of revulsion swept through his body. The dislike was starkly visible on his face and the priest stepped back, concerned.

Suddenly Cearnach's son broke free of his aunts who were gripping the child's arms to hold him back. The young boy ran to the slab and up to his father, tears on his face.

'Father where is she, where is Mother? The young boy was terrified 'Mother?' He tugged at his father 'Where is Mother?'

The Headman looked up dully at him. 'Dry your eyes boy ' he snapped, 'She is gone, she has passed, she is dead and ....' he faltered '...and she died leaving that... leaving her,' his voice broke again. Cearnach turned his back on his son and jerked his thumb at the tiny now glowing baby.

And glowing she was in many hues, red, russet, strawberry, almost gold in the firelight reflecting off her translucent skin

'That thing, that is the thing that killed her' his tears welled up unstoppable now and he fell again to his knees and started to beat the ground keening in a pitch almost as high as the screams of the dead woman.

The Priest bent respectfully down to Pen Cearnach the Red. 'Take her' he whispered gently 'take her, hold her, let your grief go, let it flow, weep and hold your daughter Pen Cearnach for you, for her your child, for her Pen Alinach, for her mother would wish this.'

'NO' Cearnach jumped upright. His voice was stern, 'she is not...not us....Y Yew blazed molten, blazed blood red in ill berries. You know what it means Priest.' He stared the priest down 'She must be left now.. left out on the mountain...on the mountain for them, she is their daughter, she is not mine, she is Ddraich born, she is fire...she is Fire Mage born, ' his voice broke again as tears came...'Take her , take her and leave her out on the mountain'

Pen Cearnach turned away from both priest and child towards the crowding villagers. All parted instantly to give him space like a stream round a rock. He strode down the path beyond the bonfires, down into the churchyard. He crossed the grave markers at the outskirts of the churchyard and came to the ancient twisted Yew that had stood in Dranai for millennium beyond his ancestors; memory.

It loomed high above him as a shadowy outline in the starlight, its branches of blood coloured berries dense above his head. He reached up and broke off the nearest branch laden with berries. He stared down at it in his hand. Then turned and rapidly crossed the graveyard, tears welling up again, his heart heavy and sore that she would lie there too soon.

He walked back up the hill slowly, ignoring the expectant faces and on reaching the Priest, he handed him the Yew branch, 'Lay this by her side when you leave her... to ... to... protect her,' Cearnach pulled off his dark purple tunic with the red, gold dragon of Dranai emblazoned on its back '...and take this...this tunic, this tunic made by her mother the wise Pen Alinach for I, her father Cearnach the Red on our betrothing day. When on the mountain, please place it over her for shelter, for memory, for hope.'

Lastly he reached up to his neck for the silver dragon torc, the torc of his father and his father's father and all fathers before him. He weighed the heavy twisted silver in both hands before passing it over

'And place this on her for she will have need of it far more than I and all who came before.' He sighed and looked down at the tiny baby once more 'Go, hurry, take her to the mountainside and take her at speed, for they are in flight, they are coming here for her even as we speak.'

He reached down able now to tenderly touch the golden baby's cheek and at her father's touch she stirred and tried to turn her weak head to his hand, her bud mouth pursing up to suckle. Her father turned her star like face back from him and suddenly the tiny girl's eyes opened a glint. Cearnach stared down at her sadly. There was no mistaking the amber in her eyes.

His daughter had eyes of fire when his were blue as the sky and Pen Alinach's the blue of the sea. This child was not his, she was not Pen Alinach's, she was never their child. She belonged to the winged ones, the fire breathers.

How, when, why of it? He had no answers now but he knew it like he knew the sun, the moon, the truth that rose daily. She was Ddraich.

Cearnach laid the silver torc on his tunic that the tiny girl was now wrapped in wrapped in like the royal princess she was. 'Go' he said tersely and he turned his back on the priest to take the hand of his son. He lead him away from their home, from their cottage for tonight they would sleep at his sister's house. No living spirit could sleep in that cursed Head house tonight.

The fires in the village were falling into embers like dull glowing orange eyes on the villagers as all started to silently creep back to their dark homes, children in arms fast asleep and many went hand in hand to hold back the fear.

As the families of Dranai entered their homes, all priests and priestesses began to clean the Head House, washing the flagstones clear of blood and bathing the stiffening body in perfumes that sweetened the air.

Then they reverently dressed Pen Alinach in the finery of the great queen she had been...her fine bridal gown of crimson yarn, her cloak of spun silver and round her neck they fastened her ancient clan torc of white gold. The High Priest came forward to at last place on her burnished fair hair the crown of glowing gold and ruby of her line for none now would ever wear the crown of her great grandmothers.

Pen Alinach at last lay in peace and dignity in a room strewn with fragrant herbs as the scents; lavender, rosemary and rose hung heavy in the air like a summer's eve. The High Priest approached again the bed bedecked in the green, crimson of the Yew and closed his eyes, hands clasped in a final prayer for the woman they had not been able to save. He opened his eyes made the final sign of infinite then sighing he turned from the bed and strode to the low door.

In the square of Dranai the priest born who were awake jumped to their feet as the Head Priest appeared in the doorway. Many turned to shake those who slept awake until the group all stood wearily on their feet. The Headman gave the signal for all to leave for they were finished here and could do no more until the morrow. And tomorrow would be enough time for weeping and grief.

He closed the door as the group picked up their few belongings then placed the tiny baby in a carrier on his back wrapped. She lay silent in her father's purple tunic but still warm and breathing. He stuffed the silver torc in one pocket, the yew branch in the other beside her mother's firestone ruby ring he would leave as a final memory. He sighed again and turned to join the line of priest born setting off slowly in single file to take the high path that would lead them soon above the village of Dranai.

They walked briskly taking no rest until reaching the small plateau that gave a final glimpse of the village before the path snaked round to the back of the mountain. All looked back one last time at sleeping Dranai, then turned back to the path for they would walk on all night, on and on until the cave of Ddraich, for that was the last shelter on the crags before the descent on the far mountain side.

They reached the cave by midnight and the group hunkered wearily on the ground to drink and rest while the Head Priest carried the baby girl up to the cave mouth. He knew where the cave was from the books of Priestly duty and lore but he never had performed this task. He found it instantly, though covered in greenery and moved the lush ferns aside to enter the narrow mouth. As he pushed past them, he plucked several bracken to make a soft bed of fronds to lay the baby on. He prayed this was right, the right path to truth.

He took the baby carefully out of the linen carrier on his back and laid her on the ferns wrapped in Pen Cearnach's tunic, the woven dragons visible on purple to those who would enter. He shivered for the air was bitter at the mountain top then took the silver torc and ruby ring out of his pockets to lay gently on her scarce moving chest. Lastly he placed the yew branch at her feet, the red berries a vivid splash of crimson beside gold dragon blazing on her father's tunic.

He murmured in a final prayer, a blessing 'Fare thee well child, girl child, fire daughter of Pen Alinach and Pen Cearnach of Dranai....triple blessed be Pen Ddraig Alina for all will fear and revere thee I fear..Fire Mage'

The priest sighed again deeply, He felt drained, bone weary but bent his head in stilled thought to reach to the heavenly ones. Then he felt in his robes for his triskilion pendant of garnets inlaid in wood that he had carried thousands of miles on this path of priesthood. 'Here poor child, for you, our little red Draich, as your need will be far greater than my own.'

He bent and tied his triscle of fire around the baby's neck. He murmured her name blessing 'Be safe, be blessed, be your namesake on this first of the year 717 for you will be Alina. I name thee Alina fire born, Alina Fire Mage, Pen Alina, fire daughter of Pen Alinach the Gold and Cearnach the Red '

He straightened up slowly in the small cave and looked down one final time at the baby girl. She still made no sound. Then he turned and squeezed out of the cave to join the other priest born and now he signalled them urgently for they must be far from here when the winged ones came. The other priest born scrambled to their feet and followed him in a long line to start the long trek down the back of the mountain to reach shelter in haste.

'Harken oh Wyvern, oh Ddraich as ancient as time, truth bringers return homewards. The implacable light is returning. Oh Ddraich'

For now they were coming, on wings of steel and gold they circled, higher than the kites, prouder than the eagle, far swifter than sparrow hawk or peregrine, they flew.

From high reaches of the night sky, they began to drift down, the ancient ones of burnished gold and amber, and red and russet. They remembered this mountain, this smell, this birds eye view oh how they remembered after all those long eons. They remembered and They were back,the ancient bringers of fear and flee, the harbourers of truth and relentless balance...and as they arrived above the mountains of Dranai, the ancient firedragons found what they were seeking.

A single weak cry was heard again on the mountainside in the dark night and dragon after dragon swirled down to find the tiny crier for they remembered her like yesterday. They remembered what the weak wingless ones had done to her so long ago.

For now, She was reborn, she had returned, would she suffer so cruelly again?

'Harken oh Wyvern, oh Ddraich as ancient as time, truth bringers return homewards. The implacable light is returning. Oh Ddraich'

For Alina Fire Mage is reborn under Y Ddraich Yew and the land will never be the same.