An rud is annamh is íontach. What is seldom is wonderful, one of the many proverbs my father loved to observe. Followed closely by, “Is í ding di féin a scoileann an dair” and “Briseann an dúchais tri shúile an chat”. Which translate to “It is a wedge of itself that splits the oak” and “Breeding will break out in the eyes of a cat”. The former a caution of the enemy that may lie within, and the latter meaning that the truth of a person’s true self can be glimpsed in their eyes. Words spoken often, words that I fully understood the meaning behind, yet I still failed to see the signs and my world was shattered in an instant. Now my fellows and I stand poised to reclaim that which was taken from us.  

The Forsaken Evening  

Wind rushed across the fields near the castle, the grass bending underneath like waves with each gust. I always found sensational peace as I sat in the gales of Aill. Slightly inland from the muir, it’s cool kiss still managed to make its way across the plain. From the top of the hill my father called down to me. For someone as soft spoken as he was, he could overpower the howling burster. Even at a distance his stance informed me something significant was around the bend. Back then I always looked at him as though he was invincible, undaunted, and unequalled. 

“Yes, father?” 

“Avi, my love let me hold you,” he said while he embraced me tightly, “Help you mother while I am away, I ride for Kil at evenfall. Our kin there are under attack, my troops and I are going to aide their defense of the city. Always remember to keep your head up and eyes mindful”.  

“Yes, father.” 

“Is tusa mo thaisce,” with a gentle kiss to my forehead.  

“Go ndéana Dia tú a chosaint.” 

Every day I wish I could get this moment back, to see my father stood before me like a great pillar. Alas war is an evil force that leaves its stain on everything it touches.  

We watched in horror as flames rose in the distance; in the dark of the night the smoke was impossible to see, but it gave the appearance that the horizon was alive. Beyond a shadow of a doubt the flames emanated from Kil. My heart burned from the dread, not just thinking of what may have happened to my father, but also from the thought of what horrible things were happening to the peaceful citizens. A ruthless man known as Highness Lion Iarainn had set out to eradicate the royals of our country shortly after the fall of a prior tyrant. Not long before his assault on Kil, his warriors had sacked both Dreda and Wrexston killing many unarmed citizens. He fancied himself a hand of God and those left dead in his wake had died in righteous judgement. Soon his campaign would inevitably lead to our realm of Aill if Kil fell. Hence the necessity of my father’s departure to Kil’s aid. My father had, on several occasions, rationalized the actions of the Highness, and noted the man’s devotion to his beliefs. Regardless of my father’s words I despised a man who could deal out such death and destruction so easily, even if he believed this to be the best course of action for humanity. I hoped beyond all hope that my father would return home safe and victorious over the cruel leader.  

As the night drug on flames continued to spread, it was almost as though the entire countryside was a ravaging inferno. It was at this time that Adharc na Cumhachta rang out from the darkness, the signal horn of my father’s army. I watched as the remaining soldiers took their places about the castle, armed and ready to fight to the death to defend our home. It was unlike my father to retreat, so I held on to some hope that they returned triumphant. All my hope was shattered when the formation burst into the courtyard. My father barely clung to his mount, arrows protruded through his armor in several places, crimson red crust stained the metal no doubt where his blood had dried. He hunched over a small child; I remember her being eerily calm. Her eyes glossed over and distant, I don’t know if I was more worried about her or my father.  

My uncle and aunt ran to my father’s side, while my mother averted my eyes, “Don’t look honey. Everything will be well.” 

I brushed her hand away; I couldn’t help but look. The instant my uncle had taken the young girl from my father’s grip; my father fell sideways from his horse, his head bouncing violently against the ground. My aunt snatched the child from my uncle, who then ran to my father. He drug my father back to his feet, “Come on brother, don’t let go. Keep fighting!”. Then in the background I spotted soldier after soldier stumble in, limbs missing, gashes scrawled across their bodies. Blood stained them all as if they had been washed in a abhainn of crimson water. Vomit crept into my esophagus at the grotesque visage. Even further behind them, a cart creaked its way into the castle. I cannot remember which one was worst, the sight and smell of the dead bodies on the cart, or the atrocious sound of the cart squeaking under the weight. Either way it was all I could handle and had to take my leave from the locus of despair.  

“Cosain an rí!” 

A call that informed us all that the foe descended upon our position. I desperately tried to figure out what to do. Forefront in my mind was the care of my father, but there was likely little I could do. Before I could make my decision, my cousin appeared with one of the guard.  

“Hurry M’lady, we must leave with haste.”  

“Where are we to go?” 

“We are meeting a group at the edge of the woods; from there we are fleeing the island for safety to the south.” 

“No, we cannot leave! Not until our families can come with us.” 

“Aviana, my parents are staying behind with your mom to help fortify the castle. They will be behind us shortly.” 

I attempted to argue, but my protest fell on deaf ears. To which my cousin slung me over his shoulder and carried me off. To our rear, echoes from genesis of battle carried in the night air. Any further events from that night escaped my memory.

     Thirteen years prior to that fateful evening, I walked across the plain with my father and mother. I could not help but stare at my mother’s golden hair as it flowed in the wind. On the other hand, my father had commented that the breeze chilled his bald head. I felt bad for him, my mother had told me he used to have a nice head of hair, but I had never seen him with hair. He would often jest that if I rubbed his head, the hair would grow back. I could never imagine him with hair, though; his bald look suited him well. A strong gust pulled at a flower on my mother’s dress. It was a dog violet I had picked for her; I thought it matched her purple and black dress well. She gripped it tightly so that it would not fly away.  

“We should have just changed at your brother’s.” 

“Indeed. We are all but there now.” 

My father was dressed in one of his best shirts and his formal kilt. His kilt was primarily black with red and white lines running across the tartan. On the bottom of his kilt, he wore a pin of a claymore behind a harp. A large belt, with alternating symbols of the trinity knot and a harp, pressed into the leather, decorated the top of the kilt. Hidden behind his sporran was a circular belt buckle emblazoned with the tree of life. Even in his formal attire, he carried his sword at his side and his lance on his back.  

I was dressed in my favorite pink dress; my mother had made it for me herself. It flowed in multiple tiered layers with a darker pink on the top that transitioned progressively to a light pink at the bottom. I also had a head band of roses my mother had made for me, but my father had to tuck away in his sporran so the wind would not ruin it. I was so excited to see my aunt, uncle, cousin, and grandparents. It had been a long while since I had seen them, and I knew they would love my new dress.  

Five to ten minutes later, we arrived at the edge of my uncle’s property, the thick tree line that surrounded the land kept the wind at bay, which was a much appreciated relief. On the other side of the trees was several acres of open farmland. My aunt and uncle cared for all manner of creatures. I loved seeing all of his animals, but my parents would not let me near them while I was in my formal attire.  

“Ah, brother! I had expected you to arrive on horseback or on the omnibus.” 

My father embraced my uncle, “Figured we’d get our daily walk in while we had the opportunity”. 

“A bold decision with the wind today.” 

“Nah, it is hardly gustin.”  

“Oh aye, and what does Eagna think of that?”  

“Honestly, it is nothing I am not used to.” 

“Ah, a diplomatic answer, eh. No matter, we are ready for the festivities.” 

A crowd awaited us at the brug; most of the people I didn’t know they were mostly comprised of citizens that lived under my father’s rule. He never treated them as lesser, though; any member in his community was like family. To me, it was overwhelming to have so many people, so up close and personal constantly. He, however, handled the crowds with poise and grace, always available to the masses. Thankfully on this day, the crowd did not rush us and gave us ample space.  

My grandmother and grandfather approached me with tight hugs and warm smiles. They both looked well for their ages and got around quite well. However, my grandmother would repeatedly retell stories of how strong and accomplished my grandfather was in his youth. I never knew how much of her stories where true and how much had been embellished over the years, but I did know there had to be some truth to them. Neither of my grandparents had come from noble or wealthy heritage, but my grandfather had managed to earn the title of “Lord”. Unfortunately, by the time he had secured title, he was old enough that he did not feel fit to carry out those duties, and from a longevity standpoint, appointed my father as “Lord” of the domain. 

“Oh, darling, you look beautiful. It is hard to imagine that you are five years old already. You are getting big so fast.” 

“Go raibh maith agat, a sheanmháthair.” 

“Breithlá sona ceann beag,” my grandfather commented in his deep growly voice, his eyes looked weary even though he tried to hide it.  

“What have you been occupying your time with as of late grandfather?” 

“Oh, you know, tending to the land and doing what I can to keep the mind sharp.” 

A sudden commotion drew the adults’ attention to the eastern section of my uncle’s land. Uninvited, a warband consisting of twenty-five of the crazed King Tíoránach’s men closed in on the party. Without hesitation, many of the men jumped to the front of the crowd and formed a barrier around the party. 

“Stay behind me Avi!” my father exclaimed firmly, his voice conveyed urgency but remained calm and collected.  

 “Well, well, well. The great Rí an Tsolais. You do know gatherings greater than ten bodies are against the King’s law, yes?” 

“His Majesty has no authority in these lands. My father was granted lordship of these lands by the parliament.”  

“How hilarious you abide by the will of the parliament and yet do not yield to the authority given to the King over the island. Power granted by the very same parliament no less.” 

“Dreams from a disillusioned fool. Any power granted his kin was given to his father; his actions have forced the parliament to repudiate His Majesty. Now kindly imeacht gan teacht ort.” 

Those words resonated in the warband’s leader for a moment before he was able to fully comprehend them, “You dare to insult me! I am the hand of the King! I demand retribution for your foul words!”. He dismounted his horse and charged my father wildly, his hand gripped tightly on his weapons hilt, but it remained sheathed.  

“I will not fight you in front of my family...” 

With the back of his gauntlet, the man smacked my father across the cheek. I could view an aura of anger around my father; at that time, I had never seen his demeanor appear so vicious. Somehow my father maintained his composure. 

“Ya gobshite, ya gonna wish ya hadn’t done that,” a man next to my father stated matter of factly. To which my father simply raised his hand to still the man. 

“You are a trespasser on our lands; if you do not leave, it will be deemed an act of war, and appropriate actions shall be taken. If His Majesty wishes to come to dispute the reach of his hand, may he come himself to discuss such matters.” 

Outnumbered, the warband took their leave, but not without ominous looks and warnings. Not surprisingly, the ordeal left an unpleasant shadow over the remainder of the festivities. So much so that at the end of the evening, my uncle implored as many people to remain on his property until daybreak. Retaliation was a highly probable risk that he had not wanted to tempt. It so happened that he was responsible for most of the military supplies since he owned such a vast property, which meant that he had plenty of tents to accommodate such a gathering. At the time, I did not give much thought to how this day might change the course of Aill’s future; I was too focused on my birthday celebration.  

     Two days later, my father had been invited to host a special counsel of the different lords residing on the island; their main purpose was to establish a course of action to be taken concerning the tyrant king. It was here that his Highness Lion Iarainn would present himself to the island. I remember when he arrived with his battalion, he was not a pleasant person to look upon. Craters and blemishes crowded his face; his eyes appeared distant and void of a soul. Of all the leaders to attend the gathering, he was the only one not from the island. Several of the lords felt his presence was unnecessary due to that fact, but my ancestors were not originally native to the island either. So my father refused to deny him a place in the gathering.  

Hidden on the upper balcony of the circular antechamber, I eavesdropped on the conversation. Tempted to peek over the edge of the balcony; I knew I would be spotted, so I settled for listening to their deep voices echoing off the domed ceiling.  

“I, for one, am of the opinion that we must eradicate this foe swiftly and without remorse. Men who aim to subjugate their fellow man must be wiped from the earth,” his voice was easily recognized by his proper manner and holier than thou tone.  

“Excessive bloodshed should be avoided at all costs. If diplomatic means are exhausted, only then shall we resort to violent tactics.” 

“Aye. Our numbers are lesser than his armies, unless our sister island’s people rally to our cause. Even if some of them ally with us, it is likely their rulers will be split with some following the Tyrant King. He assumes authority if their island, after all,” my uncle contributed. 

“Are you not men! History recognizes the actions of the bold; those who hide behind diplomacy are crushed in their wake.  

“Wind your neck, ya melter! Tis a fight ya want, a fight I will gladly give you.” 

“Socrú síos. My brethren, we mustn’t fight amongst ourselves. Majority dictates the ruling, not any single one of us.” 

In the end, the majority agreed on my father’s plan of diplomacy. This, of course, enraged the foreign commander. Before he departed, he could not resist insult my kin further. A gesture that finally set my father into a fury. Mid jump, the man prepared to mount his horse, until my father snatched him out of the air. With one hand, he slammed the man on the back of his neck, which sent a dull thud through my body as I watched. To protect himself, he snagged the man’s sword from its sheath and flung it away. Simultaneously, he discarded his own weapons, his fists raised. Stunned, the man took several beats before he returned to his feet. No words were spoken, only a fierce silence before their conflict began.  He was slightly shorter and had a narrower frame than my father. What he had lacked in size he made up for with heavier armor, at the time only his head was uncovered. It felt like forever to me as they stood eyes locked on the other without a single blink.  

Then like a lightning strike the man swung swiftly. My father ducked underneath his strike, grabbed his arm and lifted the man onto his shoulders. As fast as the other man had struck my father flipped the man over top of him. A loud clang rang out, metal crashed hard against the dense ground. Dust settled from the impact, but the man regained his footing quickly. His second punch reached my father’s face, I was worried he may have gotten a good hit in. Yet my father merely laughed unmoved. Defiantly, my father head butted the man squarely. Dazed the man looked slightly confused about what had happened. No novice to the art of battle, my father left him no opportunity to recover. Sickeningly, my father hit him with a second head butt, blood flowed down the man’s face. My father grabbed the man around the waist, pulled him to a seated position at his shoulders, and then slammed him down so hard I almost thought the man would break through his thick steel armor. Surely, this would be what resolved their scuffle.  

Heavy labored breaths emitted from the man’s body; my father turned took a few steps toward the castle. Lion Iarainn was far from a feeble man and surprised many of the men that watched. On his feet again he spat on the ground in defiance of my father’s exposed back, “I will give you this you are worthy of your name and position. Leave now and all will be forgiven”. 

“You continue to insult me! You started this and I will end it!” 

“Let me apologize for losing my temper, that was not a good representation of my beliefs. Alas I am only a man and prone to sin. Fág i suaimhneas.”  

“What did you call me!” 

“It means leave in peace. I wish you no further harm.” 

“Face me! I yield to no man.” 

“So be it, than I yield to you.” 

Frustrated the man retrieved his sword from where my father had thrown it and mounted his horse, “Remember blows can come from any direction in battle”.  

My father ignored his threat his back still faced the man, I am sure the man’s comments had further planted my father’s feet into the soil. As if he had said, “So what if they do, here is your free opportunity”. Around the scene the other lords smirked and chuckled how easily my father had beaten the one so dead set on war. After that incident the man known as his Highness Lion Iarainn refused to speak with our clan.