Chapter 15: Bitter Memories
"Here, far from where those brother poets died,
Their brother and their sisters speak with pride
And praise of them, and here they bring
Their laurel and their rue, remembering."
From the June 28, 1916, memorial meeting which was held in Central Park, NYC titled a Tribute of American poets to the Poet Patriots of Ireland.
Brigid revisits an old grave, while Death confronts Nekron.
County Meath, Ireland 1916
The red-haired goddess stood in the morning sun, slowly she pulled her green wool shawl tighter around her shoulders while staring with sad eyes at the entrance to the neglected ancient cairn in front of her. Who was entombed under this large weather-beaten gray construct of stones had been long forgotten by mankind, but she knew and still mourned for the unremembered soul. Slowly she walked through the weeds and placed a small bouquet of wildflowers on the large stone in front of the tomb's entrance, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Rest easy, Ruadán, my son," she softly spoke.
In her youth, Bridget was the flower of a mighty pantheon of gods that ruled the island now known as Ireland. She was the daughter of the mighty Dagda of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Wild and impetuous, she was sought after by many of the gods but it was Bres who won her heart. He was tall and handsome, as expected of a fertility god, and was also the son of the Fomorian god Elatha and the Tuatha Dé Danann goddess Eriu. Even before their marriage, she had allowed him to seduce her along the green grassy banks of the lake which was now called Lough Derg.
Their marriage was passionate and from their union, she bore a son. Ruadán was fair-haired and handsome, like his father, and had a mischievous streak as a child. He would often hide and pounce on the other gods unsuspectedly, giggling at their surprise. At first, life was good for the goddess and her family, but then came the war with the Fomoire. Nuada was their high king at that time but he had lost his hand during battle and although Diancecht, the wise physician, had crafted him a magic-infused artificial hand cast from silver, their tradition was that no maimed person could sit upon the silvery throne.
The clan gathered together and after much discussion decided that her husband Bress would be made the High King to rule over all others, both mortals and gods. His reign began well enough for he managed to negotiate peace with the Fomorians. But after a while, he became suspicious of those he ruled and grew greedy. He ordered that a tax be placed upon every hearth, upon every dough bowl, and even every quern, claiming that he needed the money to construct great fortresses to keep them safe from the Fomoire.
The goddess who had now turned into a Christian saint bowed her head while she reminisced over her ancient past. Her husband and king, Bress, had turned from her too and started taking mortals as his lovers. Despite all his sins, he still ruled the Green Island because he had fooled all of her clan into granting him legal control over their main livelihood, their cattle. During a great feast, he plied his brethren with plenty of mead and when they were drunk he offered them a challenge. He would claim ownership to only the produce of any cows which were brown and hairless. The foolish drunken gods found that proclamation humorous and accepted his bet. Days later, they had gathered all the cattle on the island for their king's inspection but instead, he commanded that they be driven between two raging bonfires. One by one, the cows passed between the roaring flames, and their hair was singed off and so the king claimed each as his. The Tuatha Dé Danann had been fooled and now without any livelihood, they were forced into labor for their king. Unbeknownst to her husband, Airmid and Miach, the gods of healing had found Nuada's hand and using dark magic had reattached it to the former king's arm. Now that Nuada was restored whole again, he returned to recapture his throne by using the pretense that the king had insulted and belittled Cairpré, the bard of the Tuatha Dé Danann. No god or mortal should ever insult a bard and by doing so, it was more than the gods could stomach and they rose in rebellion. He fled back to the country of the Fomorians and complained to his father King Elatha. Elatha relented and he gathered a mighty army to reconquer his son's throne.
The war raged across Erie but in the end, Nuada's army was victorious thanks to the weapons forged by the great smith Giobhniu. In desperation, Bress turned to their son and sent Ruadán to spy upon his mother's clan. In the dark of the night, Ruadán slipped past the mortal sentries and into the slumbering Tuatha Dé Danann war camp. Most of her family and kinfolk were asleep, all but Giobhniu. The mighty god of the blacksmiths was still at his forge, hammering away when Ruadán seized a magical spear that was along the wall. Lunging forward, the younger god drove the weapon's point into the smith's burly chest but he did not deliver a killing blow. Giobhniu yanked the spear out of his body and with a mighty throw, impaled his assailant into the trunk of a nearby tree. Ruadán's slain body was still hanging there when Brigit arrived and with her own hands she freed her child, his body crumpled onto the dirt below. Falling onto her knees she gripped his now stone-cold head to her chest while she sobbed in sorrow. For days she continued to cry for her dead child and her intense mournful wailing became the tradition of keening. In the end, her father built a large chamber of stone and soil where they inturned her son. The tomb, called Newgrange by the mortals, was now overgrown with trees and weeds and stood as a pale reflection of its ancient grandeur.
"Come, Brigid," a compassionate voice called to her and she sighed before she glanced over at the pretty goddess who had joined her. The topless Polynesian goddess clutched a tartan blanket around her bare breasts in an effort to keep from shivering from the cool breeze. "Let us go, I'm freezing."
"Ihi, you'd be warmer if you had worn the blouse and the shawl I had offered you," Brigid answered with a shake of her head.
"Those clothes restrain a god's true nature. Still, we must go for the others should have begun arriving by now."
"Yes, but before we go I have to get something important within this chamber."
"What is that?"
" It is the Dord Fiann, the hunting horn of the Fianna, we may have need of the heroes of old."
Together the goddesses walked towards the chamber's opening and yet another hidden entry that led to the dark magical pathways which dotted the blessed green island.
"Damn it!" Nekron cursed, for the mortal body he was possessing was rapidly weakening and he knew that he would soon have to find a new host. The two hellhounds he was following acted confused, the unnatural scent they were trying to track seemed to be going in two different directions. Nothing seemed right since he had arrived in this reality, his old powers should have allowed him to summon and manipulate the dead but he found that he was limited to calling upon the dark creatures of hell instead. He was one of three manifestations of death, the gatekeeper to the afterlife, but he only sensed one other version of death and she seemed to be still unaware of his presence. The third manifestation, dubbed by others as the Dark Racer, was nowhere to be found, and that too was a strange mystery.
With a curse, he stumbled and wearily sat down on the edge of a stacked stone wall. The hounds suddenly grew alert and he knew that someone or something was approaching, he raised his hand to silence the creatures. There was a youthful whistling coming from down the dirt trail and he stood to face the dark-haired teenager who was carrying a homemade fishing pole. "How goes the fishing?" Nekron called out to the young lad.
"Not a fish is biting today," the boy answered in a cheerful tone while giving a mock frown after he had upturned his wicker creel to show that the basket was empty.
"Too bad."
"Where are you off to today?"
"I'm just on my way home," Nekron lied while watching the boy shoulder his pole once again. He stood up and began to act like he was continuing his journey down the road.
"Then you had better watch out for the sasanach, they have patrols out to capture any Sinn Feiners or anyone they think might be rebels," the boy warned while he stepped past the stranger.
Nekron whirled around and gripped the teen's arm, yanking him towards him. "Let go of me!" the boy screamed while he tried to swing his pole as if it was a weapon. The larger man was stronger and he pulled the struggling youth into his embrace. The boy when rigid while the ungodly being inside the body of the larger farmer entered into the teen's soul. With a gasp, Nekron's former captive host fell backward and stumbled onto the ground.
"Much better," Nekron proclaimed while he raised the now-possessed teen's arms into the air. There were the sounds of snarling from behind him and a guttural scream, he quickly whirled around but he was too late for the hounds had pounced upon the fallen farmer and began to savage his body. "Damn it!" he cursed while he watched the man die and he frowned when he heard the fluttering of dark wings.
Death stood there and drew back from what she saw, the hell hounds were still feasting on the corpse's flesh. "What is going on here?" the angel gasped and then she looked over at the teen who stood nearby. Immediately she could tell that the boy was possessed by something evil. "Who the hell are you?" she asked.
"You know me, I'm Nekron!" the teen said.
"I don't know you?" the goth-looking avatar of death protested.
"I'm Nekron!"
"Who?"
The ghostly shade of the dead farmer spoke while he stood there staring down at his mangled body, "He took my body and possessed my soul."
Death turned to face the spirit and then looked back toward the possessed teen. "Tell me the truth, who are you, and why are you here,?" she challenged. The two hellhounds were now growling at her, but she just ignored them.
"I told you I am Nekron, the gatekeeper of the afterlife. I am death as the ultimate balance to life," Nekron answered.
"No, you are an imposter! I am Death and there is no other like me," the angel yelled while she reached out to grapple the creature before her, but when she touched Nekron there was a flash of dark lightning that tore through all surrounding them and she was thrown back. In fear she glanced at the scorched devastation around her, the dark creature still stood before her but everything living, all the way down to the smallest microbe, had been destroyed. Desperately she stood and sought out the poor farmer's spirit, but it too had been annihilated. With a flutter of her wings, she fled in terror.
Desperately she search for the Creator, but he/she could not be found. Death was aware that it was a common occurrence for the Omnipotent One to disappear and in her fear and confusion, she sought the advice of another who had also once wielded extraordinary power. Death found herself fleeing into the past once again into a small peaceful village full of coyotes and foxes.
"It is very possible that multiple versions of you do exist," Waah-i-ald stated while he held his mug of mint tea in his paws. The once powerful god, who had abandoned his divinity for love, sat on a simple log bench. His ears were flat and he looked upward as if the red fox was staring at the cosmos itself.
"You know that I can take many different forms, my image is that which those dying believe I should appear," Death answered, she had taken the form of a black-furred fox with green eyes.
"That isn't what I meant," the other fox continued.
"That doesn't make any sense, surely I would know?"
"When I…well, before I destroyed everything, I realized that we were not the only reality that existed."
"Sure, we both know there are parallel universes created by alternate timelines."
"No, you don't understand! Ours was not the only multiverse!" Waah-i-ald proclaimed with a sad shake of his head.
"That is impossible, I am Death and I was born when Life was created, so I would know all of creation."
"When my mother was stuck in the Void between time and space, I was able to visit her even though I was incapable of freeing her. During those many centuries, I explored the great nothing we call the Void and came to realize that there were other realities that were separate and not connected, almost as if we were just one of many of the Creator's ongoing experiments."
Death sat back speechless.
"It is as if we are just sets of Petri dishes being observed."
"No, that can't be true!" the black fox protested.
"But it is true and to make matters even worse, when I went crazy and began to destroy our realities by releasing the Void, these other multiverses somehow realized what I had done and feared me. At the moment that the Creator…ah, let's just say she rebooted our multiverse, the others saw the danger and I firmly believe that they are plotting against us and the Creator."
"Preposterous!" Death scoffed, but in her divine heart, she wondered if he was right.
Waah-i-ald didn't continue to argue but leaned even closer to the black fox and suddenly whispered. "That old coyote by the fire, the one kneading the flower for the flatbread, her name is Shelia and I think I have known her since I came here, and yet I have this feeling that I really don't know her at all?"
Death looked back over at the fire and frowned. "What coyote, I don't see anyone by the kneading bowl?"
"She is right there!" the red fox snapped while pointing at the coyote he was now staring at.
"There isn't anyone sitting by the bowl!" the black fox protested.
Waah-i-ald set his mug down and rose to walk over to Shelia, but his eyes widened when he realized that within a blink of his eyes that she was no longer there. "How?" he muttered in surprise.
"You may have been a god, but now you are only mortal and mortals are prone to give in to their wild fantasies," Death scoffed.
"No, I didn't see things. I am positive that she was there and watching you and I talk."
"If there had been someone by that bowl, I would have seen her because I see all things living and dead."
The fox just sat down and shook his head.
"So you truly believe that one of those other versions of me has crossed over from another reality? Again that is impossible, I would know if something like that happened."
"You didn't even know that there were other realities, so why do you think that you would know if there is another version of death? I felt it and I am sure my daughter did too, but she hasn't realized the importance of what happened."
The black fox gave him an aggravated look. "You abandoned your time powers and gave up being a god, how did you feel something like that?"
"That is a puzzle I haven't figured out, maybe there is some residual of the power that was left behind?" the red fox answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Residual of power?"
"Don't play coy with me, I know that you have been siphoning some of my daughter's time power for your own use and that is how you traveled here to the past."
"Okay, so I have tapped into her powers just a little," Death sighed in an aggravated manner.
"Daddy, where's Fenny?" a voice asked and they turned to see that Jude was standing in the doorway of a nearby hut. "I can't find him."
"I'm sure he is somewhere around here," Waah-i-ald answered.
Death sat silently, for she remembered in her past what had happened and that Fenrisúlfr had left the village to confront the clan of wolves who hunted the peaceful villagers. Her eyes widened in surprise and she turned to watch the goddess of Time, for she realized that memory was new. Jude was changing the past and the future without realizing what she had done.
Newgrange is one of the most ancient structures in Europe and is older than Stonehenge in England and the Great Pyramid of Egypt.
There are some theories, as espoused by the writings of Doctor Robert Lanza, that space and time do not exist without consciousness. So death creates a break in the continuity of space and time. In my stories, although she knows when someone is going to begin life and then die, Death cannot travel unaided into the past or future to change what is written in the Book of Destiny. However, Judith can change all events, except those tied to her own destiny, and that may actually make her more powerful than even Death. Time had to exist before Life and Death were created.