Dunland: T.A. 3018

Aye, tis a gift.

That's what the old wifies would say, huddled round the fire pit, telling stories of before. Before the sky went dark, before Mither set the gem in place, back when the sun came out and the dead stayed in the ground.

Aye, they'd know right enough that what Aine just told me is a gift.

Something to be treasured and protected.

And yet I am afraid.

So afraid, that sometimes I wake up at night drenched in sweat – I canna even begin to fathom how the wife is coping so well. A bairn, a wee bairn, all our own…I don't think I've even seen one in the flesh before. Mithers always keep their babies huddled to their chest till they're old enough to run for themselves.

And there's going to be one growing inside of Aine, becoming a real person, that we can hold, and hug and show…well…that's the question isn't it. There's nay wonders in this land to show a bairn anymore, no sun in the sky, or rain on the ground. There's just the darkness. And the light of my Mither's stone high in the sky.

There's nary a life here, for anyone, let alone a child.

How long before the dead amass again, before they strike and even if we escape…what's after that? Hiding down beneath the surface of the earth with the Aon-adharcach? Fleeing to the edges of the land where jagged stone meets tangled wood?

I grew up without a father, without sun, or the sky, or the soft feel of the wind on my face. With a Mither that was so busy protecting me that sometimes she forgot to feed me.

My bairn is not going to grow up like that.

They're going to have a real childhood, with the Sky and the Sun, and the Dead long buried strapped in their graves.

I must find a way out.

The Wizard knew, but then he's a wizard and ye'd expect that kind of foresight from him.

I didn't tell him about the bairn, ye weren't supposed to talk about such things until…well, until the tiny thing came out. But wizards are wizards, and I think he already knew. That's why I asked him what I did.

'Get out? You want me to tell you how to get out of here?'

'Aye, I figured ye would know well enough – ye got in somehow.'

'Indeed, I did.' Laughed the old wizard, his giggles more of a hacking cough. He was a small wee thing of a man, all bent and crooked and as blind as a dead rat. How such a man could have gotten past my Mither's charms I'll nay be certain for as long as I live. But then, he's a wizard and doing extraordinary things must be a fairly common occupation for them.

'Alright, I'll tell you…but tit for tat, I need something in return.'

'Fit?'

'Just something small…nothing that ye would miss.'

'That dinna sound comforting wizard, fit de ye want?'

'What I want is for you to tell me anything I ask.'

'And why would I dee that?'

'No promise, no way out.'

I looked down at the ground, for the first time since I'd met the old man, hatred for him welled up within my stomach. But what could I do, my bairn…my baby…they needed this.

'Alright, I promise to tell ye anything ye ask. Now how do I get out of here?'

'If I'm to risk the wrath of your Sorceress Mother, then I'd like to know why I'm doing it.'

I look down, the hard shell of the crackling log in the fire sparks a light that makes me squint. I shouldn't tell…she wouldn't want me to tell…but I canna get us free by myself.

'My Wife's Pregnant.'

The wizard sat back, a small smile on his haggard face.

'Well. Isn't that something…I will help you, but if you get caught my name must never be mentioned.'

'Fit why? My mother wid never throw an old man such as ye self to the dead.'

'Be ye so sure of her honour, she's the one that trapped you in here to begin with.'

'Trapped the dead ye mean.'

'Aye, them too. Well enough of that, I could tell you that it was a great spell that caught me in here, but it would be a lie…I haven't been able to use a spell of that magnitude since…well…since long before you were born.'

'Then how…'

'Your mother's magic is strongest on a place when she knows it well, find a place where she never walks, or runs or even thinks of. The Magic will be weaker there, and you and your wife should be able to slip out.'

I canna help it then, I almost wanna hug the man.

'But first things first, the payment.'

I sighed, well, all clear skies had to have a storm cloud hidden somewhere in them.

'Fine, fit ye want to know?'

***
Dunland, Cage of the Wooded Hills, near the banks of the river of life: T.A. 3018

On a hill, at the farthest reaches of the land once known as Dunland, there lived a small village – well, perhaps it was not so much a village as it was a collection of small stone crofts that had since been abandoned by the sheep herders that had once tended them so diligently.

It was unclear what had driven these men of the herd so far from their homes – whether it was the ever-looming presence of the dead, or the fact that without the sun, sheep seemed to wither. Whatever the case it was empty when the man and his wife arrived at the Height of the midnight hour.

They were wrapped all in furs, till all but their eyes were hidden from view, and if you happened to be a casual observer you would not have seen the blue markings of the Leomhann across the boy's face, or the green and gold of the Mer Clan's across the girl's. All you would have seen was the vague outline of a fur wrapped couple, unable to move any longer.

'This canna be it, Calgacus. The Wizard must have been lying.'

Hissed the girl shape.

'Aye, it is…Mither never thinks about her old hut, she hated it here…dinna feart, she winna look for us out here. And the Wizard has no reason to lie to me, he's nay the nicest of fellows, but he winna double cross his own escape route, dinna feart, he'll be showing up on the other side for sure, he's much too afraid of Mither to stick around after he's shown her son the way out.'

'As well he should be, ye daft man, this'll be the first place she'd look for ye – the wizard will nay be coming over here, I can tell you that.'

The boy didn't reply to that, instead gripping the staff in his right hand he moved to the smallest of the old shacks. Tiny, and dilapidated it surrounded itself in an aura of cold, and the dead – but this only spurred the boy on.
'We're nay gwaning inside that,' said the girl with the green face. 'I winna go in there even if I weren't caring yer bairn.'

The boy shoved the cracked, and rotten plank of wood that served as a hap-hazard door to the croft, aside as if it were made of wool. And having fallen to his hands and his knees, he started to crawl inside – the girl just stood there, her arms crossed over her stomach and scowled at her husband's retreating back.

'Calgacus, I dinna like this, come back now or I'm turning back and going hame without ye.'

From within the tiny croft, there was no reply.

'Calgacus, I'm nay joking here…this was a stupid idea, yer gonna get us both killed and then the bairn won't have any life at all.'

A rumble from inside the croft and the girl finally lost her patience with him.

'That's it, I'm gwain back home…feel free to get eaten all ye like Calgacus, but I'm nay staying to watch.'

Perhaps she would have even done it, in another life, another time – had the sky above their heads not suddenly exploded in a flash of lightening. That…that wasn't supposed to happen, they saw no rain, or clouds, or the sky above their heads in the land of Dunland. This was so beyond the bounds of possibility, that had Calgacus stood there instead of yon Aine he wouldn't have even recognise it at all.

'Calgacus! Calgacus! Calgacus!'

Inside the hut any noises outside were muffled and distorted to the boy's ears. He was sure, Aine had not followed him in, but then maybe that was better, if he were to die in here at least she and the bairn would live.
A cold brush of the wind from outside, and he knew that dream was dead. He could feel her move up beside him, the small space of the cottage, crowding them close together.

'Fit changed yer mind?'

'Shut yer gob Aon-Adharcach and move along, yer crushing me with yer massive bulk.'

'Cheeky.'

The two began to giggle, and had the air not been so cold, or the cottage so small and stifling one might even be forgiven in thinking that the young couple were quite enjoying themselves in that small, dark, dank cave of a room.
You would be wrong, but you could be forgiven…the noises they were making was certainly most joyful, until they weren't, until there weren't any noises at all, for there was no one there to make it anymore.