Lael
12-03-08, 05:26PM
Chapter Fifteen
“Amadan is coming here. He made that plain as a blue sky on a sunny day. We need to prepare,” grunted Lír.
“Prepare to what?! You know that anything The Fool does cannot be undone. The fact is; no one has ever defeated him. We have been lucky in the past that he is tied to the seasons. Three months in a year is his allotted time and just about all the poor earth can handle of that business,” retorted Dian Cécht.
“Aye and that is his only weakness. We must exploit it,” Morrigan pointed out.
“Actually, that is not strictly true… Amadan has one other weakness, though it will not conquer him. Fire. It will protect us from him and even drive him back. It just will not defeat him totally. The mortals learned that during Midsummer’s night festivals. We can keep him from harming us but we will be hard pressed to do much more,” Dagda said.
“So, we need to send him back to his slumber and that quickly. I can feel his life force swelling,” added Áine. “Dagda is correct on the protection of fire. It is the one thing Amadan fears, irrational though that be. It can never truly harm him though it may indeed pain him. I do wish Ecne were still here. His knowledge would be useful.”
“Ecne and Aongas do an important service for us right now. That mortal must be sent back. I agree his knowledge would be helpful but we simply must hold things until they succeed.” Dagda said.
“Then let us prepare Cathair Crofhind. Amadan-na-Briona is heading here. We must warn the people and protect them. Those that can travel should leave for a time. All children must be sent away. Amadan makes no distinction concerning his victims. We do not need a new generation warped by his madness,” declared Áine to the nods of the other Elders present.
***
The heated wind swirled and eddied. Amadan continued his ride toward Cathair Crofhind. His appearance waxed, waned, flickered and shimmered at odd random intervals along his progress. Through it all, he kept his arms above his head, palms forward facing. The wind blew in temperamental spurts between those hands, gusting and fading at random though never stopping as long as they were raised.
He was deep within the woods now and summer trailed in his wake. It rippled outward before him and behind him. Snow melted away and the trees rustled as they woke from their slumbers. The shock hurt many of them, as chilled bark and trunks heated too quickly. Used to a gradual temperature change that told them it was time, this heat was simply too much. Even the evergreens were harmed, their needles browning. Smaller plants fared better, though the season change forced even them to adjust quickly or die.
Animals woke from their sleep to almost stifling heat. Many were confused and stumbled up from their burrows and out of their dens to see what was happening. The higher order mammals took one look at the shapeshifting figure on the gray stallion and ran screaming at the sight. Only the rabid creatures did not flinch away. They instead followed, howling and crying. Only the stallion had any immunity to Amadan’s chaotic madness.
Amadan grinned as a dryad stood before her tree, arms outstretched protectively. He could see her minor magics swirling in defense, attempting to keep her tree in winter. Snow still glistened from its branches, but even as he gazed at her, it began melting. Tears welled and her arms fell to her sides. Within moments, she clutched at her heart. The shock to the tree went straight to her. She fell dead at the base of the tree. Branches snapped and the trunk split asunder. As he drew even with the tree and its dryad, it burst into furious flames. Amadan winced but continued past.
He roared in laughter as woodland creatures fled his path. All the little fey things knew better than to confront him in his power. The dryad was an exception, since she could not abandon her tree without dying. So die she did. She knew her fate but fought bravely for the tree’s sake. A glimmer of sadness swept through Amadan but was quickly overwhelmed by other emotions. His emotional tides were quick though random. His mission was to spread madness and chaos as far as it would go before collapsing. Bringing summer to the winter land would go a long way to that goal and it would strengthen him for the fight with the Elders. It had been long centuries since he last confronted them directly. He felt it well overdue. Each sure step of the stallion brought Cathair Crofhind closer.
***
Graham woke with a jolt. His sleeping mind finally pulled free from the spell-induced slumber that had held him immobile. His eyes opened and he became aware that he was awake. Darkness surrounded him. He tried to remember where he was but it made no sense. The last memory was of walking between the two houses and then nothing more. The dreams were fading now as well.
Propping himself on an elbow, he tried to look around. Deep darkness was all that he could perceive. Hard stone was beneath his questing fingers beyond a thick woolen blanket he lay on. Fear caught his breath in his throat as he wondered if he was somehow blind now. The total lack of light was not something he had ever experienced before. Graham forced himself to take a deep breath and then released it slowly. It helped, a little. The air was cool but not nearly as cold as the floor. He shivered a little as he realized that he wasn’t wearing anything. His captor had taken everything.
Searching carefully, his fingers brushed against a squishy leather something that sloshed and gurgled. Finding a leather strap, he at last identified it as a waterskin. He brought it to his parched lips and almost choked when he found that it was actually wine when he expected plain water. Still, the liquid was welcome for all of that. He let his fingers wander again and found a wooden bowl near where the wineskin had rested. Chill spheres were inside of it and he pulled the bowl to him also. Taking one of the spheres into his hands, he felt it carefully. He decided it was an apple once he found the stem and the dimple where it emerged. He nibbled and found it tart but sweet. It did more for his thirst than the wine had.
The lack of light really bothered Graham. All sense of time and distance were distorted. He prayed that it wasn’t really blindness. The darkness felt oppressive. Sound was magnified and seemed to echo all around him. He caught the drip of what he assumed was water from another part of the chamber he was in. The stone under him was very cold but the blanket seemed enough to keep him from catching a chill from it. His thoughts turned to Aongas and it comforted him. Hopefully, Aongas was looking for him or knew where to find him. He gripped the edges of the blanket and wrapped it firmly around him. Graham finally decided that he could only wait. At least for a time.
***
The two horses began to slow as night closed in. At different times along their run they had gone from autumn to spring to winter to summer. The little folk dwelling in the first forest flagged them down often, seeking news of the chaos. Ecne and Aongas advised them to lay low for Amadan-na-Briona was awake and on the move. Shudders of horror often greeted this news and rapid nods of agreement. None wanted a confrontation with that individual if it could be avoid. While this tended to slow their progress, they didn’t really begrudge it. All of the fey fold needed to be warned if they were to survive.
Aongas felt badly for the other creatures that could not understand what was happening. The chaos of the seasons had no meaning for them other than as a trial and a disaster to overcome. Where possible and where there was intelligence to hear, they informed the animals as best they could of the danger. Many fled upon hearing Amadan’s name, though a few narrowed their eyes in disbelief. The Sidhé were sometimes known for strange pranks and jokes on other creatures. Aongas could only shrug when met with disbelief and hope that the poor creature did not learn the truth of it the hard way.
Ecne rode in near silence. His mind wandered along speculative pathways, seeking the purpose and pattern of all of the events so far. His knowledge was great but he felt outside forces arrayed to block certain areas from his questing thoughts. Someone was expending a lot of magic to keep him guessing. He didn’t like the fact it would take equal energy on his part to overcome this hidden enemy’s efforts against him. Graham was the key and the barrier the lock. Once he understood the relationship between the two, he felt he would know the purpose of the enemy. The murmuring of his heart told him that it might have been better to stay with the Elders at Cathair Crofhind. But he also felt that Aongas and Graham would need him just as much. Regardless, the choice was made and doubting and second-guessing would gain nothing for their cause.
“Should we stop for the night, Ecne? While Críonnacht can likely go on without issue, Anghrách Tadhall is still mortal and should rest. Without light, the going will become much harder through the woods,” asked Aongas as the last glimmers of the sun slanted through the trees.
“I would feel better if we can get a little further before stopping. I fear that time is against us. I can light the way before us for a bit, which will help Anghrách Tadhall,” answered Ecne. He glanced over at Anghrách Tadhall to gage her tiredness. She shook her head in weariness and then nodded her assent to the plan. Ecne concentrated a moment and the gestured. A globe of light left his hand and traveled several yards ahead of the group. It then kept its position there as they ran onward.
***
Lugh urged Misneach to go even faster. He would not feel safe until the Elders had the information he had gathered at the barrier. The trail was becoming well traveled with all of the back and forth traffic within the last few days. Misneach whinnied and stretched her neck as she pushed ever harder against the unflinching ground. Trees along the path began to blur, so swiftly did the mare run now. Lugh bent low over her neck and moved with her to keep the balance between them optimal for her efforts.
The urgency he felt transferred to Misneach as she poured her heart into running. Miles flew by quickly as they raced for home. Lugh noted when they reached the edge of Dagda’s control over the seasons. Winter was still in force where the harp Uaithne’s music sounded. He worried though, since it seemed that the border between the seasons was far smaller than it should have been. Much, much smaller. The magic of the harp should have covered the entire realm. It barely reached beyond the valley where Cathair Crofhind rested.
***
Dagda stood near the Lia Fail and sent his senses over the land. His harp rested on his hip, its music fading into the atmosphere. The Elders had agreed that Uaithne would be the first line of defense against Amadan-na-Briona. If Dagda could hold winter steady at Cathair Crofhind, Amadan would be balked from reaching the city. The Fool could not go where winter held sway. He was an entity of summer and heat. Winter made him sleep.
Shifting restlessly, Dagda found that the work of the harp was patchy. The areas controlled by Amadan had stayed as they were, at the height of summer. Other areas did in fact shift back toward winter’s proper reign. Dagda now had an idea of just where The Fool was located and where he had been. What he found disturbed him greatly. Fully a third of Tir Na nOg remained in summer heat. That did not bode well. And Amadan was less than two day’s ride from Cathair Crofhind. Dagda hoped that Ecne and Aongas had gone around Amadan; else their mission would likely fail.
As he felt along the paths of energy, Dagda noted that even now, the shift ordered by the harp was coming undone at random places. The barrier between the worlds was absorbing the magic of the music. Slowly, the seasons fell back toward chaos. He grimaced. It would do no good to continue striving against both barrier and Amadan simultaneously. All that would happen is that he would be exhausted just when his strength was needed most. He would shorten the range and concentrate solely on Cathair Crofhind and the surrounding valley. It might do more than attempting to restore the entire realm for a longer time.
The barrier near the Lia Fail still seemed normal and as it should. Perhaps the magic of the stone was steadying it. Dagda would accept that good fortune without too much thought. An idea came and he jumped at it. Could the stone strengthen the harp? Could the two magics be made stronger if combined? He pondered that as he watched the horizon. Amadan would arrive in two days unless the Elders could halt his progress.
***
Amadan flinched as a blast of freezing air swept aside his summer wind. Faint tinges of music echoed within that bitter cold. Grinning, he realized his challenge was being taken seriously. As the cold air bathed him, he felt his energy sapped. If he did not put a stop to it, he knew that he was likely to return to sleep again. Screaming into the wind, Amadan balled his hands into fists over his head. His own wind surged around him becoming a whirlwind. The heated air fended off the winter blast. Grinning with clenched teeth, Amadan howled louder than the clashing currents of air. His voice took on an echoing quality, a deep bass rumble that shattered all other sound. Straining, he smacked his fists together. A tremendous boom rattled the very stones on the ground. The gray stallion staggered under him.
The whirlwind expanded and then exploded outward. The arctic wind ceased, overcome by Amadan’s summer power. His hands fell before him and his fist released their tight grip. Exhaustion swept over him but not enough to cause him lasting distress. A few moments and he felt renewed. It would be a while longer before he was up to continuing his march, but he was confident that he could when ready. The stallion waited patiently, unconcerned with all the commotion around him. Amadan slapped the horse’s neck a couple of times, the second being more of a gentle pat of comradely affection. He took no notice and simply waited for a command to move.
Once he felt recovered, Amadan waited out the cycle of form shifting change until he again settled into something semi-stable. He grunted as the weight of years pressed in around him, molding his body into that of an extremely elderly man. Veined and liver-spotted hands clenched the mane of the stallion. Thin ropey muscles that could barely hold onto the barrel of the horse struggled to maintain his position astride the great beast. The sun gleamed off of his balding head, wisps of pure white hair going every which way in a short fringe on the sides. His toothless mouth grinned. Eons of time hunched his back into the slump of age. Delighted once more, Amadan flicked his heels into the flanks of the stallion, the impact being no more than the landing of a pair of flies upon his hide. It was enough.
As the stallion strode slowly and carefully forward, Amadan once more raised his hands upward. They trembled with the palsy of the old, but they stayed upright. Whistling a jaunty tune through his toothless gums, he called forth the wind again. Heated air slowly began moving, sluggish as only a summer breeze can be. Soon their assault on winter was back to their previous levels. There was resistance but it slowed them only a little. The efforts of Dagda’s harp would have to do far more to stop them from advancing.
***
Graham found sleep elusive now. After spending who knew how long in an enchanted slumber, his body seemed not to need it now. Or, time was passing more slowly than he thought. It was hard to tell how much time had passed since his first awakening in the unending darkness. Not so much as a flicker or the faintest glow had relieved that dreary state for him. His hearing was now in a highly sensitive state where the slightest sound seemed a thousand times louder than it really was. It was time to do something… anything really.
He rose to his feet carefully, one hand above his head. It was fortunate that he was careful when he touched the ceiling only an inch above his full standing height. Rough cold stone met his searching fingers. One hand above, he held the other out in front of him. A slow step at a time, he moved forward. Within three full paces, his hand and foot reach a wall. He stopped a moment to decide how to proceed with his exploration. He turned around and walked back the three paces. His foot brushed the blanket to his relief. Bending, his hands groped for the wooden bowl. After fumbling around, he found it and picked it up. The few apples left, he placed in folds of the blanket.
Turning slowly again, he used the edge of the blanket to reface the direction he had gone toward the wall. He retraced his steps. At the wall, he set the bowl lip down against it. Now he could make a complete circuit of the room and know where he had started. And from here, he could get back to the blanket again. Satisfied with his cleverness, Graham started moving to his right, one hand on the wall and the other on the ceiling just in front of him. That way if the ceiling suddenly lowered, he wouldn’t smack his head. He counted his steps as he went. After only two paces along the wall, he found that it held a curve to it. The room was most likely circular, if it stayed this way.
He hoped to find a door or opening of some kind in the wall at some point. Graham found something else before long. The sound of the dripping water came nearer and then his hand found the source. A dribble of water fell from the ceiling to the floor. His foot found a hole in the floor. Bending carefully, he felt the edge of the hole to find out more. It was only the size of his spread fingers. The edges of it were smooth. Puzzled, he thought about it a few moments before it dawned on him what this was. His full bladder clued him in. He was disgusted with the primitive nature of it but had to admit that it would serve a purpose. So, he used it.
Once nature’s necessity was dealt with, he moved on. Minutes passed and he felt his foot hit the wooden bowl. Graham hissed as his toes bent with the impact. He had gone too swiftly the full circle. No door, no opening at any place along the wall. He turned again with his back to the wall and headed toward the center again. Three paces and he found the blanket. He sat on it and pulled the ends around him. The air was cold and he was almost shivering now. The warm wool heated from his body shortly. He felt around carefully and retrieved the apples to make sure he didn’t lose them. Graham then drank some more of the wine and had another apple. Depression fought hope within him as he realized that he was well and truly stuck in this prison. Until he had light to see or someone came for him, he was going absolutely nowhere.
***
“Amadan is coming here. He made that plain as a blue sky on a sunny day. We need to prepare,” grunted Lír.
“Prepare to what?! You know that anything The Fool does cannot be undone. The fact is; no one has ever defeated him. We have been lucky in the past that he is tied to the seasons. Three months in a year is his allotted time and just about all the poor earth can handle of that business,” retorted Dian Cécht.
“Aye and that is his only weakness. We must exploit it,” Morrigan pointed out.
“Actually, that is not strictly true… Amadan has one other weakness, though it will not conquer him. Fire. It will protect us from him and even drive him back. It just will not defeat him totally. The mortals learned that during Midsummer’s night festivals. We can keep him from harming us but we will be hard pressed to do much more,” Dagda said.
“So, we need to send him back to his slumber and that quickly. I can feel his life force swelling,” added Áine. “Dagda is correct on the protection of fire. It is the one thing Amadan fears, irrational though that be. It can never truly harm him though it may indeed pain him. I do wish Ecne were still here. His knowledge would be useful.”
“Ecne and Aongas do an important service for us right now. That mortal must be sent back. I agree his knowledge would be helpful but we simply must hold things until they succeed.” Dagda said.
“Then let us prepare Cathair Crofhind. Amadan-na-Briona is heading here. We must warn the people and protect them. Those that can travel should leave for a time. All children must be sent away. Amadan makes no distinction concerning his victims. We do not need a new generation warped by his madness,” declared Áine to the nods of the other Elders present.
***
The heated wind swirled and eddied. Amadan continued his ride toward Cathair Crofhind. His appearance waxed, waned, flickered and shimmered at odd random intervals along his progress. Through it all, he kept his arms above his head, palms forward facing. The wind blew in temperamental spurts between those hands, gusting and fading at random though never stopping as long as they were raised.
He was deep within the woods now and summer trailed in his wake. It rippled outward before him and behind him. Snow melted away and the trees rustled as they woke from their slumbers. The shock hurt many of them, as chilled bark and trunks heated too quickly. Used to a gradual temperature change that told them it was time, this heat was simply too much. Even the evergreens were harmed, their needles browning. Smaller plants fared better, though the season change forced even them to adjust quickly or die.
Animals woke from their sleep to almost stifling heat. Many were confused and stumbled up from their burrows and out of their dens to see what was happening. The higher order mammals took one look at the shapeshifting figure on the gray stallion and ran screaming at the sight. Only the rabid creatures did not flinch away. They instead followed, howling and crying. Only the stallion had any immunity to Amadan’s chaotic madness.
Amadan grinned as a dryad stood before her tree, arms outstretched protectively. He could see her minor magics swirling in defense, attempting to keep her tree in winter. Snow still glistened from its branches, but even as he gazed at her, it began melting. Tears welled and her arms fell to her sides. Within moments, she clutched at her heart. The shock to the tree went straight to her. She fell dead at the base of the tree. Branches snapped and the trunk split asunder. As he drew even with the tree and its dryad, it burst into furious flames. Amadan winced but continued past.
He roared in laughter as woodland creatures fled his path. All the little fey things knew better than to confront him in his power. The dryad was an exception, since she could not abandon her tree without dying. So die she did. She knew her fate but fought bravely for the tree’s sake. A glimmer of sadness swept through Amadan but was quickly overwhelmed by other emotions. His emotional tides were quick though random. His mission was to spread madness and chaos as far as it would go before collapsing. Bringing summer to the winter land would go a long way to that goal and it would strengthen him for the fight with the Elders. It had been long centuries since he last confronted them directly. He felt it well overdue. Each sure step of the stallion brought Cathair Crofhind closer.
***
Graham woke with a jolt. His sleeping mind finally pulled free from the spell-induced slumber that had held him immobile. His eyes opened and he became aware that he was awake. Darkness surrounded him. He tried to remember where he was but it made no sense. The last memory was of walking between the two houses and then nothing more. The dreams were fading now as well.
Propping himself on an elbow, he tried to look around. Deep darkness was all that he could perceive. Hard stone was beneath his questing fingers beyond a thick woolen blanket he lay on. Fear caught his breath in his throat as he wondered if he was somehow blind now. The total lack of light was not something he had ever experienced before. Graham forced himself to take a deep breath and then released it slowly. It helped, a little. The air was cool but not nearly as cold as the floor. He shivered a little as he realized that he wasn’t wearing anything. His captor had taken everything.
Searching carefully, his fingers brushed against a squishy leather something that sloshed and gurgled. Finding a leather strap, he at last identified it as a waterskin. He brought it to his parched lips and almost choked when he found that it was actually wine when he expected plain water. Still, the liquid was welcome for all of that. He let his fingers wander again and found a wooden bowl near where the wineskin had rested. Chill spheres were inside of it and he pulled the bowl to him also. Taking one of the spheres into his hands, he felt it carefully. He decided it was an apple once he found the stem and the dimple where it emerged. He nibbled and found it tart but sweet. It did more for his thirst than the wine had.
The lack of light really bothered Graham. All sense of time and distance were distorted. He prayed that it wasn’t really blindness. The darkness felt oppressive. Sound was magnified and seemed to echo all around him. He caught the drip of what he assumed was water from another part of the chamber he was in. The stone under him was very cold but the blanket seemed enough to keep him from catching a chill from it. His thoughts turned to Aongas and it comforted him. Hopefully, Aongas was looking for him or knew where to find him. He gripped the edges of the blanket and wrapped it firmly around him. Graham finally decided that he could only wait. At least for a time.
***
The two horses began to slow as night closed in. At different times along their run they had gone from autumn to spring to winter to summer. The little folk dwelling in the first forest flagged them down often, seeking news of the chaos. Ecne and Aongas advised them to lay low for Amadan-na-Briona was awake and on the move. Shudders of horror often greeted this news and rapid nods of agreement. None wanted a confrontation with that individual if it could be avoid. While this tended to slow their progress, they didn’t really begrudge it. All of the fey fold needed to be warned if they were to survive.
Aongas felt badly for the other creatures that could not understand what was happening. The chaos of the seasons had no meaning for them other than as a trial and a disaster to overcome. Where possible and where there was intelligence to hear, they informed the animals as best they could of the danger. Many fled upon hearing Amadan’s name, though a few narrowed their eyes in disbelief. The Sidhé were sometimes known for strange pranks and jokes on other creatures. Aongas could only shrug when met with disbelief and hope that the poor creature did not learn the truth of it the hard way.
Ecne rode in near silence. His mind wandered along speculative pathways, seeking the purpose and pattern of all of the events so far. His knowledge was great but he felt outside forces arrayed to block certain areas from his questing thoughts. Someone was expending a lot of magic to keep him guessing. He didn’t like the fact it would take equal energy on his part to overcome this hidden enemy’s efforts against him. Graham was the key and the barrier the lock. Once he understood the relationship between the two, he felt he would know the purpose of the enemy. The murmuring of his heart told him that it might have been better to stay with the Elders at Cathair Crofhind. But he also felt that Aongas and Graham would need him just as much. Regardless, the choice was made and doubting and second-guessing would gain nothing for their cause.
“Should we stop for the night, Ecne? While Críonnacht can likely go on without issue, Anghrách Tadhall is still mortal and should rest. Without light, the going will become much harder through the woods,” asked Aongas as the last glimmers of the sun slanted through the trees.
“I would feel better if we can get a little further before stopping. I fear that time is against us. I can light the way before us for a bit, which will help Anghrách Tadhall,” answered Ecne. He glanced over at Anghrách Tadhall to gage her tiredness. She shook her head in weariness and then nodded her assent to the plan. Ecne concentrated a moment and the gestured. A globe of light left his hand and traveled several yards ahead of the group. It then kept its position there as they ran onward.
***
Lugh urged Misneach to go even faster. He would not feel safe until the Elders had the information he had gathered at the barrier. The trail was becoming well traveled with all of the back and forth traffic within the last few days. Misneach whinnied and stretched her neck as she pushed ever harder against the unflinching ground. Trees along the path began to blur, so swiftly did the mare run now. Lugh bent low over her neck and moved with her to keep the balance between them optimal for her efforts.
The urgency he felt transferred to Misneach as she poured her heart into running. Miles flew by quickly as they raced for home. Lugh noted when they reached the edge of Dagda’s control over the seasons. Winter was still in force where the harp Uaithne’s music sounded. He worried though, since it seemed that the border between the seasons was far smaller than it should have been. Much, much smaller. The magic of the harp should have covered the entire realm. It barely reached beyond the valley where Cathair Crofhind rested.
***
Dagda stood near the Lia Fail and sent his senses over the land. His harp rested on his hip, its music fading into the atmosphere. The Elders had agreed that Uaithne would be the first line of defense against Amadan-na-Briona. If Dagda could hold winter steady at Cathair Crofhind, Amadan would be balked from reaching the city. The Fool could not go where winter held sway. He was an entity of summer and heat. Winter made him sleep.
Shifting restlessly, Dagda found that the work of the harp was patchy. The areas controlled by Amadan had stayed as they were, at the height of summer. Other areas did in fact shift back toward winter’s proper reign. Dagda now had an idea of just where The Fool was located and where he had been. What he found disturbed him greatly. Fully a third of Tir Na nOg remained in summer heat. That did not bode well. And Amadan was less than two day’s ride from Cathair Crofhind. Dagda hoped that Ecne and Aongas had gone around Amadan; else their mission would likely fail.
As he felt along the paths of energy, Dagda noted that even now, the shift ordered by the harp was coming undone at random places. The barrier between the worlds was absorbing the magic of the music. Slowly, the seasons fell back toward chaos. He grimaced. It would do no good to continue striving against both barrier and Amadan simultaneously. All that would happen is that he would be exhausted just when his strength was needed most. He would shorten the range and concentrate solely on Cathair Crofhind and the surrounding valley. It might do more than attempting to restore the entire realm for a longer time.
The barrier near the Lia Fail still seemed normal and as it should. Perhaps the magic of the stone was steadying it. Dagda would accept that good fortune without too much thought. An idea came and he jumped at it. Could the stone strengthen the harp? Could the two magics be made stronger if combined? He pondered that as he watched the horizon. Amadan would arrive in two days unless the Elders could halt his progress.
***
Amadan flinched as a blast of freezing air swept aside his summer wind. Faint tinges of music echoed within that bitter cold. Grinning, he realized his challenge was being taken seriously. As the cold air bathed him, he felt his energy sapped. If he did not put a stop to it, he knew that he was likely to return to sleep again. Screaming into the wind, Amadan balled his hands into fists over his head. His own wind surged around him becoming a whirlwind. The heated air fended off the winter blast. Grinning with clenched teeth, Amadan howled louder than the clashing currents of air. His voice took on an echoing quality, a deep bass rumble that shattered all other sound. Straining, he smacked his fists together. A tremendous boom rattled the very stones on the ground. The gray stallion staggered under him.
The whirlwind expanded and then exploded outward. The arctic wind ceased, overcome by Amadan’s summer power. His hands fell before him and his fist released their tight grip. Exhaustion swept over him but not enough to cause him lasting distress. A few moments and he felt renewed. It would be a while longer before he was up to continuing his march, but he was confident that he could when ready. The stallion waited patiently, unconcerned with all the commotion around him. Amadan slapped the horse’s neck a couple of times, the second being more of a gentle pat of comradely affection. He took no notice and simply waited for a command to move.
Once he felt recovered, Amadan waited out the cycle of form shifting change until he again settled into something semi-stable. He grunted as the weight of years pressed in around him, molding his body into that of an extremely elderly man. Veined and liver-spotted hands clenched the mane of the stallion. Thin ropey muscles that could barely hold onto the barrel of the horse struggled to maintain his position astride the great beast. The sun gleamed off of his balding head, wisps of pure white hair going every which way in a short fringe on the sides. His toothless mouth grinned. Eons of time hunched his back into the slump of age. Delighted once more, Amadan flicked his heels into the flanks of the stallion, the impact being no more than the landing of a pair of flies upon his hide. It was enough.
As the stallion strode slowly and carefully forward, Amadan once more raised his hands upward. They trembled with the palsy of the old, but they stayed upright. Whistling a jaunty tune through his toothless gums, he called forth the wind again. Heated air slowly began moving, sluggish as only a summer breeze can be. Soon their assault on winter was back to their previous levels. There was resistance but it slowed them only a little. The efforts of Dagda’s harp would have to do far more to stop them from advancing.
***
Graham found sleep elusive now. After spending who knew how long in an enchanted slumber, his body seemed not to need it now. Or, time was passing more slowly than he thought. It was hard to tell how much time had passed since his first awakening in the unending darkness. Not so much as a flicker or the faintest glow had relieved that dreary state for him. His hearing was now in a highly sensitive state where the slightest sound seemed a thousand times louder than it really was. It was time to do something… anything really.
He rose to his feet carefully, one hand above his head. It was fortunate that he was careful when he touched the ceiling only an inch above his full standing height. Rough cold stone met his searching fingers. One hand above, he held the other out in front of him. A slow step at a time, he moved forward. Within three full paces, his hand and foot reach a wall. He stopped a moment to decide how to proceed with his exploration. He turned around and walked back the three paces. His foot brushed the blanket to his relief. Bending, his hands groped for the wooden bowl. After fumbling around, he found it and picked it up. The few apples left, he placed in folds of the blanket.
Turning slowly again, he used the edge of the blanket to reface the direction he had gone toward the wall. He retraced his steps. At the wall, he set the bowl lip down against it. Now he could make a complete circuit of the room and know where he had started. And from here, he could get back to the blanket again. Satisfied with his cleverness, Graham started moving to his right, one hand on the wall and the other on the ceiling just in front of him. That way if the ceiling suddenly lowered, he wouldn’t smack his head. He counted his steps as he went. After only two paces along the wall, he found that it held a curve to it. The room was most likely circular, if it stayed this way.
He hoped to find a door or opening of some kind in the wall at some point. Graham found something else before long. The sound of the dripping water came nearer and then his hand found the source. A dribble of water fell from the ceiling to the floor. His foot found a hole in the floor. Bending carefully, he felt the edge of the hole to find out more. It was only the size of his spread fingers. The edges of it were smooth. Puzzled, he thought about it a few moments before it dawned on him what this was. His full bladder clued him in. He was disgusted with the primitive nature of it but had to admit that it would serve a purpose. So, he used it.
Once nature’s necessity was dealt with, he moved on. Minutes passed and he felt his foot hit the wooden bowl. Graham hissed as his toes bent with the impact. He had gone too swiftly the full circle. No door, no opening at any place along the wall. He turned again with his back to the wall and headed toward the center again. Three paces and he found the blanket. He sat on it and pulled the ends around him. The air was cold and he was almost shivering now. The warm wool heated from his body shortly. He felt around carefully and retrieved the apples to make sure he didn’t lose them. Graham then drank some more of the wine and had another apple. Depression fought hope within him as he realized that he was well and truly stuck in this prison. Until he had light to see or someone came for him, he was going absolutely nowhere.
***