Caladbohlg Chapter X: New Friends & New Challenges

Subtitle

The departure from the Cloister-by-the-Sea was difficult for all of them, yet none more so than Eibhlin. Though she did not cry or flail, against their lot in life, she left the Cloister with a kind of deadness, in her eyes that discouraged those around her, whenever they looked her way.

For days Eibhlin did not speak a word or do much more than follow them listlessly. As morose as she was, Éodain was in stark contrast cheerful, annoyingly so to Ríonal’s mind. Melancholic and in a foul mood, which only grew worse the further on they went from the Cloister. She found it difficult to advance, as though it was some sort of betrayal to the place of their birth. With the guilt worsening hour by hour, until it left a huge gaping black void in her heart that devoured everything, around it until there was nothing left in its wake.

Skirting around the forest for days, the group of frightened refugees clinging to it, as a child might to the comfort provided by its mother.

All of them had hoped, for a visit from Muirgel who had proven herself, to have until now, the capacity to solve even the most trying of their problems. Even Ríonal, who had seen little more than immature scorn from the young lass, had hoped for a visit from her.

It was not until the third evening that the sea-born lady would appear shortly after they had made camp for the night, just as Colum had begun fishing that she appeared just as one of many fish slipped past him or through his fingers without too much difficulty.

“What are you doing?” She asked of the Ratvian, probably thinking he had lost his mind at some point in the past several days.

“I am trying to catch fish, now be quiet.”

“You know you are not doing so correctly,” The princess corrected haughtily, earning for herself a scowl from the rat who with a sigh of exasperation turned about to call back to the rest of his surviving friends.

“Ríonal, Muirgel is here,” he shouted apparently having decided to inform the woman by the fire (having just started it) rather than call for all of them.

Ríonal who had been just about to eat one of the fish that remained from the day before hurried to her feet, then on over to greet the maiden who returned the uncertain look. Neither of them sure of what to expect from one another, given how frigid they had previously been towards one another.

Irritation filled her then, all she wanted was to go back, eat and rest for the evening. All this culminated in the widow throwing sharply at Muirgel, “What is it? I thought you said that you could not come here, near the surface again because of your grandfather.”

“Well, I uh, never you mind what I said,” the girl told her, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. “I was worried about you all, and wished to see if you were well.”

“We are, now go home your grandfather will worry,” Ríonal snapped, seeing the vulnerability in the eyes of the younger girl though she pulled back a little emotionally. “I do not say these things to be cruel towards you, but rather because he cares for you and-”

She did not get to complete her phrase before Muirgel disappeared back under the sea, with a sigh Ríonal looked up to meet the gaze of the bewildered Colum, who raised an eyebrow at her. It was a small yet very eloquent gesture, one that bespoke of quizzical disappointment rivalled only by savage frustration.

“What? It was the truth, what is wrong with what I said?” She demanded harshly of him, the Ratvian continued to timidly yet stubbornly stare her down.

“It was not what you said,” He murmured out hesitantly, only to suck in a deep breath before he continued, “But how you said it to her.”

The next day, things would go a little differently with the group once again camping near the sea despite the fact they all knew that the time was near when they would have to leave it behind them.

All throughout that day, Ríonal had not heard the end of how ill she had treated Muirgel, the prior day. From the exasperated Colum and Eibhlin, to even Mabel who was ill-impressed with what she had done, all three of them, showing their disapproval with the odd comment or disapproving look. Though, her reason likely had more to do with not having gotten the chance to meet a mer-person where everyone else already had.

“A little sensitivity Ríonal do you not remember how it was for you, at such an age?” Eibhlin queried eventually, some time after they had stopped for lunch, a raised brow and wagging finger in her direction.

“Of course, I do, yet it is she who dislikes me,” Ríonal replied full of righteous indignation.

She would receive several stony looks after those words, one indifferent one from Éodain with the conversation continuing when she pulled herself ahead of the group. Whilst she left them alone, Ríonal who never felt very comfortable discussing anything in front of Éodain turned her head towards Eibhlin who was panting heavily.

“Are you alright?” Ríonal asked worried, “I know we just began-”

“I am quite fine, by Ziu you fret more than my mother ever did, save when it comes to the feelings of maids.” Eibhlin grumbled impatiently, never one to accept help she forced herself to continue to advance half a pace ahead of her doubtful good-daughter.

Mabel and Ríonal shared a worried, sceptical look that Eibhlin pretended not to see. “If you are sure you are alright, then we will cease fretting after you.”

“Yes, yes now do drop the subject of my health, now there are two things that Ríonal lacks sensitivity towards; the desires of the elderly for privacy and the feelings of young maidens in love.” Eibhlin grunted exasperated, she then added with a tug on Mabel’s hand. “Now do be sure not to pick up these flaws Mabel, they could cause you a world of trouble later in life.”

While the young girl giggled at the jest cast at the petite widow’s expense, she herself came to a sudden stop, stunned at what had just been said.

Though she had never seen it before, she could not help but begin to piece together and examine every single conversation, she had had with or been told about, with Muirgel in more detail.

“Ríonal do not fall behind, my dear, is something wrong?” Eibhlin asked, it was now her turn to be worried, her steps halting while her eyes dashed over her shoulder, to stare at Ríonal.

“What do you mean when you say, ‘young maidens in love’?” Ríonal had asked unable to imagine Bradán capable of drawing such attention to him. Not because he was unappealing, but it was just that he was still so young. “Do you mean Bradán is the subject of said love?”

“You are a thick one lass, uncannily so, I wonder if that is my late husband’s influence or your father’s.” Eibhlin remarked dryly with a shake of her head, before she explained herself. “Bradán is of age, he is a man therefore why would it be so peculiar for a woman to take, a fancy to him?”

“Well, it is just that,” At this moment in time, she could not think of a legitimate reason to combat the very simple argument and trouble espoused by Eibhlin. “He behaves so um, well it is simply impossible to imagine him, as a man when I still think of him as a child.”

“Need I remind you, he was already a man when we began to dote upon him,” The shorter widow reminder her wryly, with a slight giggle. “It is simply that he is by nature a child, his own lack of maturity tends to fool those around him, into thinking so.”

“I suppose,” Ríonal conceded still a little put-off by her words, she knew them to be true yet could not keep from wishing to coddle the boy. He was the closest she had and ever would come to having a younger sibling or child. Especially, after she had failed to preserve the children, she had given birth to herself.

It was for that reason that she felt a little saddened by the notion of him growing old for it meant that the world was changing, and people always fear change.

“I never liked him,” Mabel muttered childishly, “He was a bully.”
“To you certainly, yet to us he was an extremely charming little boy,” Eibhlin said to eleven-year-old Mabel, who nodded back slowly, showing just how much thought, she had put into those words before agreeing. “Smart girl, now to young, excitable Muirgel I imagine he must seem wonderful.”

“You make love seem all about perception as though it is all about which side of someone that, we see,” Ríonal noted doubtfully confused by such logic.

“Is that not the nature of young love?” Eibhlin asked with a raised brow to the young woman, as cynical as ever.

“How is young love different, from old love?”

“A fair question, youths wish for vigour, for passion which is important yet eventually peace and solidarity becomes more important to a love, the more life goes on, fair Ríonal.” Eibhlin explained in a conversational voice.

“What does this have to do with Bradán?” Mabel queried.
“Simple; Muirgel loves him for being as passionate as a person, as a friend and because of how different yet similar to herself, he is.” Eibhlin said clarifying her earlier prevarication only to add.

“Does that mean she loves him, for one or one of the others?” Mabel asked as confused as ever.

Thinking deeply about this question, at some length, the old widow did not have a fully prepared answer for her, with it falling upon Ríonal to save her from the hole she had fallen into philosophically. “Perhaps a bit of both, though the former does not last as long, it is what she longs for, I am sure while secretly wishing for the latter even if she possibly does not know the truth herself.”

Eibhlin nodded pleased by her words, “Very good, my word you have summed up Muirgel’s feelings perfectly.”

And the matter may have been left alone with those words, with Eibhlin content to appreciate the surrounding mountainous area, with an enthusiastic eye, were it not for the fact that Ríonal remembered the detail of Muirgel’s anger and instant dislike for her.

With this memory of their poor first encounter, she asked of her hero, crossly. “Yet what does this have to do with her dislike of me?”

“Simple; she adores Bradán and this is why she is envious of you, because he no doubt has spoken to her of us, at some length. And as an unattached, pretty young lady you are a threat, to her mind.”

“A threat to what?”

“Do not be daft,” Eibhlin snapped exasperatedly, “She believes that you may threaten her bond with Bradán should you seek to.”

“But I adore Bradán as if he were of my blood or yours,” Ríonal objected unable to wrap her mind around such a thought.

“Aye, I know that, you know that, but does she?” Eibhlin retorted only to shrug and change the topic, “Now let us see about discussing something else; such as what we will do upon our arrival in Delcíána? I for one, pray that we find Éodain’s uncle in kindly enough a humour, as to leave us be in peace, though I hold no hope for any such thing given how nobles can be.”

“But he shan’t be all bad he is the son of the Boruhma’s brother, after all.” Mabel objected naively.

In response, Eibhlin gave her a sorrowful look, one that bespoke of old pains before she spoke back in a mournful voice that struck Ríonal almost as much as her expression did. “My dear sweet child, I wish I could believe that all men of the Boruhma’s stock were as good and true as he, but it is sadly not so.”

Mabel looked genuinely sorry for the old woman then, as though she could not imagine losing all of her idealism, or faith in people as Eibhlin seemed to have, a sentiment that Ríonal could well understand. As there were days, where she felt the same way, but there were others when she realized just how idealistic Eibhlin still was, deep down.

“But surely, he would have learnt from the Temple or his uncle’s example to treat peasants with kindness?” Mabel asked hopefully.

 “I doubt it lass, the clergy can be a fickle thing, almost as much as the nobility can be,” Eibhlin replied quietly, reluctant to agree yet all the more reluctant to disagree too harshly, with the little girl.

It was when they stopped for camp and Ríonal stopped by the sea, the first of the group to do so. And was the first to also call out to Muirgel, whom she prayed was still out there, but she did not appear for Ríonal’s sake again.

All it was was a written message in the sand, which none save Colum could read, with the Ratvian smiling a little when he had finished doing so.

“What does it say?” Mabel asked of him once she saw his grin.

 “That she will meet us near Delcíána near the river there, and that she will expect a proper apology from Ríonal,” Colum explained, a hint of relief in his eyes.

The one in question, who was required to plead for forgiveness, felt a great swell of irritation at those words. She knew that her fit of anger had wounded Muirgel, but this seemed too public, too self-important a show of anger, for her tastes.

Muirgel was not in the wrong, not completely and yet she struck Ríonal then with her immaturity who wondered if this girl would truly be a good match for Bradán.

All day, she remained angry at her, with Mabel annoyed in turn by Ríonal, while Éodain was simply pleased to have finally gotten company that was as against Muirgel, as she was. This small victory was not one that pleased anyone, nor did it do anything to worsen anyone’s mood or predisposition towards the noble-girl, or one another for that matter.

Only Colum and Eibhlin remained civil with one another, with the former oddly revitalized by their surroundings, while the latter was oddly serene. The sight of the sea behind them, the hills around and before them, with the forest carefully kept to the west, while up ahead lay the mountain by the name of Sliabhbean.

Where it was said an ancient Rí had vowed to wed only the fastest woman alive, one whom could run up and down the mountain. The race that had followed up and down the mountain saw a royal-born woman by the name of Gráinne the victor. Trouble was for this Rí, Fionn mac Umaill, was that he had fallen hopelessly in love with her. While some her age, had thought the story romantic, Ríonal had never known quite what to think, and had found Fionn’s insistence on the marriage repulsive.

Since, at the time of the tale, Fionn was said to have been quite elderly, while it was natural for women in Ríonal’s time to wed old men, it was still something that disgusted her. She liked the old, but not enough to wed them, in that regard she quite agreed with Gráinne, whom it is said later fled with her own lover, when her father insisted on the match.

While it was breathtaking, in a way that only the grandest of nature’s gifts could ever be, it was still not enough to mollify everyone’s tempers, which were too frayed for almost any remedy to soothe. Mabel and Ríonal soon having a short spat, which soon involved Eibhlin, who was horrified by the latter’s arguing with the former. The subject of course, being the same one it had been for some time; Muirgel.

Thankfully, a day after they had left the river firmly behind them, fate offered instead a poultice to purge them, of their fears in the form of danger.

Considering how they had thus far avoided all trouble, it was already miraculous by any standards. Though none of them properly appreciate this fact at first, with the woods at the base of the closest mountain, noteworthy for being a place where danger as already stated lurked.

For the first few hours they discovered nothing only for them to settle quietly to rest with the tension such that Colum soon, fumblingly stuttered out that he would go refill his water-skin, by a pond. One that they had walked past shortly after entering the woods, with none of them keen to stay there, due to all of them, having heard of bandits usually haunting such places.

“What is taking that lad so long? It has been hours,” Eibhlin grunted in frustration some time after his departure.

If Eros could induce love thanks to his magic-arrows, then Eibhlin’s arrows would have inspired guilt or even regret in any whom were struck by them. Most of all, the pain in her eyes, filled Ríonal with those wretched feelings.

Ríonal  wasthe first to climb back up to her feet, after several more minutes, saying as she did so, “I will go find him, we’ll be back in a few moments.”

“Very well, be careful,” Eibhlin replied quietly, unhappy still, yet unable to cross the distance between them.

Forcing her thoughts away from the princess, Ríonal thought of how difficult it would be, when the time came to tell Lyr of how all the monks had fallen. A discussion she was sure would be incredibly painful for all involved, one she also did not look forward to by any means.

The small pond tucked away in what was a small corner of the woods was one they had stumbled across, yet had continued on from, almost a half hour prior, one that was in a small glade surrounded by sessile oak trees.

Stumbling forward Ríonal searched the area with discerning eyes, eager to find her friend, hopeful that he was not on the verge of inflicting another prank upon her, one inspired by anger just as the last one had been, the day before. Colum was neither to her left, nor to her right, yet this did little to please her.

“Colum? Where are you?” Ríonal hissed out at first only to raise her voice to try to be heard by her friend. He did not appear at her call as she had hoped he would, “Colum?”

She searched the small glade only to find no trace of the Ratvian. It was only when she turned her eyes to the ground by the pond did she notice the only trace of something being amiss at all.

There were traces of his footprints along with a pair of larger ones, but a few feet away from those of the Ratvian. Confused, Ríonal did not have time to worry about Colum, it was then that she was struck in the back of the head. Stricken with pain, she hit the ground hard, cutting her left hand on a nearby rock, by the pond. Before she could recover from her shock, she was flipped over onto her back, by her assailant.

Groaning, she could see that the thickly bearded man, who had struck her in the back of the head, was startled when he saw her face, only for his face to darken with a particular hunger that chilled her blood.

Dizzied by pain, the young woman fought to ignore in order to search for some means of escape. She had never given herself to any many, save for her Fionnán, had never wished to, and had always imagined only ever being with him.

There. To her left. The same rock that she had cut her hand, just a few seconds before. It was her only chance, the only means by which she may be saved from the worst fate imaginable to any woman. Stone in blood-ridden hand, she seized action by her bulging throat and struck.

The blow drew a huge bellow from the thickly-haired man; it felt good to hear his cry of pain, and better to have her freedom. The second blow secured for her, the freedom of her legs, the third blow struck near his right eye, and was followed by a weak slap to her face.

He struck her again, this time in the side with a clumsy fist, distracted by his own pain, only to cry out again when she ignored it, in favour of striking out with her stone once more.

He at last hit the ground with a groan, while Ríonal made to leave. Running for the woods, where she knew she had to go find Eibhlin and the others to warn them, of the presence of the bandit.

She came to a sudden stop barely a second later when she nearly ran headlong into a dagger. Eyes wide, she gaped at the sight of the drawn blade, and the scar-faced bandit standing before her with a raised eyebrow.

“Where are you headed to in such a rush, milady?” He asked in a falsely polite voice that brimmed with ridicule.

Ríonal thankfully recovered her wits, enough to notice a weary looking Colum, who had a large bruise on the side of his head, along with a dazed look on his face. He was held in place by a large man, almost twice the Ratvian’s size, one who held him by the shoulder with one beefy hand.

“Colum, are you alright?” She asked of her friend, more concerned for him than for herself.

“I hope so,” he retorted with a wince.

“You will be alright,” Ríonal assured him with more faith than she truly felt then. She added with her eyes, nervously flitting to meet those of their captors, “Let him go, please. We have nothing of any real value.”

“We will see,” Was the amused reply from the man with the dagger pointed at her, only to add, “We will decide who lives and who dies now-”

He was interrupted by an arrow through the knee. The scream that was torn from his lips then, was cut short, at the same moment his life was ended, a second later when a second arrow cut through the air. It pierced him, through the side of the neck.

Nobody moved or said a single word, to one another. Then, the moment passed, and panic filled all those present, just as four more arrows put an end to three of the bandits. Ríonal was no exception as she leapt over the body of the man who had been in the middle a few seconds before, of threatening her. She did so, to get to Colum, who had frozen where he stood. Thankfully, one of those who had fallen was the man responsible for keeping a hold of the Ratvian.

“Colum, move!” Ríonal shrieked utterly consumed by terror, the boy probably more by luck heard her cry out to him.

The two broke into a dead run for behind a nearby tree, ducking instinctively as they prayed to the golden goddess for protection from these new assailants who were but another in a series of misfortunes to befall them.

This moment of fear, of chaos lasted what must have been forever, yet in the terrible silence that followed the terror that gripped them, it seemed like nothing they had ever felt before.

Such was the nature of fear, in Ríonal’s eyes to be bottomless and without a modicum of hope, was almost a familiar old family-member she’d not spoken to in years. Every instinct in her body and mind was screaming at her to move, run or crawl.

“Colum save yourself,” She whispered to the boy, who glanced up at her, in startled uncertainty.

“But, Ríonal what about you?” Colum whimpered back.

“Just go,” Ríonal hissed back at him, even though she could barely summon enough courage to stand up and flee, did not meant that Colum had to also die or so she told herself.

Neither of them moved though, neither of them able to overcome their fears then as they both thought about all the ways they could die to these new assailants.

“Will you two move? You have been shaking there for longer than it takes me to travel from the Ardgar river in the north to Delcíána.” Spoke up a new voice from around the tree they were hidden behind.

A quick glance revealed, who the speaker was and what he looked like, he was an older man of about forty or so years of age with a short greying yellow beard the same colour as his hair. Tall, dressed in thick wolf furs over his worn green tunic and breeches, with a sword which had a ruby-tipped pommel. The blade was still in its sheath and at odds with the man’s careworn features, his bright green eyes despite being surrounded by creases and premature wrinkles.

Those eyes were so familiar, so like another pair of eyes that for a moment, Ríonal could have sworn she had met this man before. Those eyes had flecks of gold, it seemed and easily distracted her from the jagged scar that went almost from the man’s left temple to over his cheek bone, to just shy of where his beard began on the left side of his jaw.

“He seems familiar,” Colum muttered to Ríonal, obviously almost as unfamiliar with those eyes and face as she was, though it did not appear as though he could put his finger upon where he had seen this man before.

“Lass, did you speak true about sacrificing yourself, for this Ratvian?” The worn warrior asked, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, all the while, he shifted his hatchet in his right-hand. Frightened, as she was not entirely certain of what it was he was going to do now, that she had nodded slowly to his question, which was a precursor to him murdering her. “Good, well come along.”

Startled Colum and Ríonal exchanged a glance, both confused by the strange behaviour of this bandit, for they both knew him to be a brigand. Brigands just like lairds and household warriors of said lairds tended to ravage all that they found, with no regard for those who traded or tilled the fields.

“Should we follow him?” Colum asked worriedly with his question a good one.

Ríonal though doubted they had much of a choice, the warrior had saved them, it was true but she did not trust him, and did not believe that had done so out of the goodness of his heart. “I think we have to, Colum.”
The Ratvian nodded reluctantly, his face falling visibly at her words, having she suspected hoped for more optimistic words, from her. A steely boy, in spirit despite his timidity, he gave a quick no before he helped her to her feet.

“Thank you,” She murmured shakily, still afraid her knees would buckle beneath her, from the scare she would recently suffered. Thankfully, they did not.

“Hurry up, you two,” Came the shout from further along in the woods from where they had originally fled from.

Not needing to be told twice, the two of them rushed on over to find three other men, with the middle-aged one standing there, with his back to them. Of the three other men, none of them were human, with two of them being hairy and feline in appearance, the first Tigruns, Ríonal had seen in years. Not since Fionnán had departed with a band of merchant-Tigruns, had she seen one. The third one was pig-faced and almost six-feet tall, with a meaty build that was more than a little daunting.

“Were they here?” Asked the dark-eyed pig-faced man.

“No, Keegan they were not here,” the first man answered exasperated, waving at the two peasants he added, “Only those two, they are the only ones here.”

“Well, maybe there are more of them,” One of the two Tigruns muttered with a glance at them, this Tigrun had slightly darker fur, and hard-eyes, where the other one had a softer build and was gazing at them, with quiet concern.

“I doubt that-”

“There are,” Ríonal admitted quietly, not seeing any other way around this, with the warriors eyeing them so closely. “If you let us go, we can go find them.”

“Why? You are not my prisoners, you may go if you so please, but only if you answer my question; are any of them old and dressed in the manner of a monk?” the middle-aged man asked gruffly.

“Nay, why?”

“Damn.”

“Are any of them named Lyr, by any chance?” The softer looking Tigrun questioned intently.

“Lyr?” Colum piped up confused.

 “We do not know anyone by that name, our friends are called Mabel, Eibhlin and a small noble-girl by the name of Éodain.” Ríonal said deciding to mix the truth with a lie.

She hoped that doing such a thing would make it easier for her to get away without them seeing through her. She had the distinct feeling that most of them were uncertain, of what to think while the one grey-beard with his sharp eyes continued to study her intently.

 “Go find them, Flann why do not you go fetch the tribe to inform them that, we have purged the land of bandits and have made some new friends.”

“Can I bring Colum, with me?” Ríonal asked still not trusting these strangers.

“Certainly, if you wish to return to them, feel free to do so,” the bearded man replied at once.

Colum appeared a little reluctant to leave, yet did not resist Ríonal when she pulled him after her and into the woods, in the direction of their camp. It took but a few minutes for her to find her way back towards the camp, where the other three of their travelling companions were.

“It took you far longer than I expected to, for you to find Colum, where was he hiding Ríonal?” Eibhlin asked cheerily, her forced joy almost brought a grin of pure relief to the younger woman’s lips.

But she had no joy in her then, stepping forward to sit near the fire, with Colum, just a few feet behind her. “There was a reason for our delay.”

Then the two of them told the three of their friends what had happened, with Ríonal ending her tale with the words, “I do not trust these bandits anymore than the first ones, given their grudge against Lyr.”

“Do you think it might be the same Lyr?” Mabel wondered doubtfully.

“It is a common name,” Eibhlin stated quietly, lost in thought though she sounded no more convinced than Ríonal was. “Mayhap we should hurry to Delcíána.”

“Agreed, finally you speak sense hag.” Éodain grunted pleased by Eibhlin’s sudden eagerness to hurry to her uncle’s home.

At the sound of the word ‘hag’ Eibhlin scowled, just as Ríonal gave the young girl a dirty look. Much to their disappointment though, Éodain remained steadfastly unapologetic.

“I look forward to being rid of this girl,” Eibhlin grumbled to herself.