Scions of the Tuatha Dé

The glow of lanterns and candles poured from the windows of the MacLaughlin home. Donal recognized his uncle’s horse standing in front tethered to a small wagon. He opened his mouth to tell Siobhan, but she jumped at the opportunity to identify his guest.

“He’s early! That’s probably more bad news.”

“Now, hold on!” Donal said. “How did you know when he was due here?”

Siobhan was the most sure-footed person Donal knew. In fact, this was the first time he’d seen her caught off-balance in action or conversation.

“He’s a friend of my family, too. Just, c’mon!”

Murrough stepped out to greet them as they neared the wagon and was encircled by Donal’s hug.

“What’s all this?” Murrough said. “Your legs are a state! Where’s Finn?”

Donal let go of his uncle, ready to tell him everything. As he stepped back, he realized Murrough was looking at Siobhan. Their faces expressed concern but not shock nor fear.

“He was taken,” she said. “We last saw them on the other side of the river here.”

“He was still alive?” Murrough asked.

“He was.”

“—Are you asking about Finn or the rider?” Donal asked. “Because I can’t believe you haven’t told him about the rider’s missing head!”

Siobhan raised a palm toward Donal to hold him off. “It was a dullahan. We saw a tomb north of the main road. I think he took Finn there.”

Donal shuddered at the mention of the word “tomb.” His uncle and Siobhan talked about the trip back home with a striking lack of alarm. It was time to move the conversation along.

“So what do we do now?” Donal asked.

Murrough glanced east toward the tomb and then looked back at him.

“Go inside and grab two days worth of supplies for you and your brother and put out the lights and fire on your way out.”

“You want me to pack?” Donal asked. “Finn was taken by something you two call a ‘dullahan,’ off to place you two call a ‘tomb,’ and you bring me back here and tell me to pack for a trip! What are we waiting for?”

“You’re right,” Murrough said. “We don’t have time. Siobhan and I can either explain it all to you right now, or we can work on a plan to save Finn while you get your things. Please, Donal, get to it.”

Donal turned his back on the pair and walked to the house. After a few steps, Siobhan and Murrough resumed their discussion. Donal slowed his pace so he could eavesdrop.

“Why take Finn now?” Siobhan asked.

“It appears we overestimated how much time we had left,” Murrough said.

“I’m worried Donal may be right,” she said. “Dullahans usher along the dead. Should we have chased it and tried to save Finn then and there?”

Donal stopped walking and held his breath.

“You said he tried to run after it with a spade?” Murrough asked. “You made the right call. A plan was needed, even if I wasn’t here to help with it. As for the monster, perhaps he’s ushering Finn to a different location entirely.”

“You think it’s taking Finn to him?”

“I do.”

“Who’s ’him?’” Donal asked.

He couldn’t help himself. The look on Murrough’s face was clear, but he spoke to emphasize his point.

“House. Now!”

****

Finn sized up the tomb as he worked on the rope that bound his arms. It had but one chamber, unlike larger portal or passage tombs such as Brú na Bóinne over in Meath, but this room was large. The air was musty and felt thin, yet breathing was no trouble at all.

His kidnapper faced the outside world from the base of the incline. It stood motionless but not frozen. A missing head always made for a poor debate partner, but Finn had been underground for an hour. The silence and stress were too much for him. He blurted out the next thought that came to mind.

“You’re a dullahan, right? I recognize you from the tales.”

The dullahan eased its shoulders back and to the right. Now it was frozen in place and Finn couldn’t tell if it was mad, curious, annoyed, or indifferent. The dullahan’s shoulders returned to their original position and it ascended from the chamber.

Annoyed. The rider was annoyed. Finn craned his neck forward, looking for his captor. What little ambient light remained above ground cast a headless shadow upon the entryway.

Finn flexed and twisted his arms behind his back. The rope loosened with every attempt, if only by fractions. With enough time, he knew he could free himself—but how much time would the dullahan allow?

****

Donal emerged from the darkened house with two bags slung over his shoulder.

“So?” he asked. “What are we doing?”

“You and Siobhan will ride with me back to that crossing,” Murrough said. “I will ride a little further east down the road and wait. The two of you will approach the tomb, at which point you will stay put while Siobhan tries to sneak past it and head further north.”

“So I’m just going to hide in the bushes while she tries to save Finn all by herself?”

“That’s not it,” Siobhan said. “I’m the distraction. I’m going to draw it out, leading it north to the bay. When the tomb is empty, you run in, free your brother and run back to the main road and meet up with Murrough to the east.”

“Meanwhile, yourself gets nabbed and thrown in a tomb.”

“And what did I tell you about judging me?” Siobhan asked with an oddly reassuring grin. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you my plan earlier. As long as I stay out of his whip’s reach, I’ll be fine. As for yourself, use this to cut your brother free.”

She pulled a knife from the back of her belt and handed it to Donal. He chuckled at the thought of an eight-inch knife protecting him against a creature with a whip. It was light with an intricate leather handle below a blade of solid gold.

“Does your mam know you took her fine things for a job as rough as this?” he asked.

Siobhan removed its sheath from her belt and hooked it to his with a smile.

“Who do you think gave it to me?” she said. “Throw your bags in the wagon and let’s go get Finn.”

Donal marveled at the knife. It was the first time he had held anything that contained gold. He sheathed it and climbed into the back of the wagon.

Little conversation was had along the way, even between the conspirators sitting in the front. Donal studied the pair to distract himself from his mind’s shadow, which criticized him in the easiest of times. No telling what it would say given the chance with stakes this high.

Siobhan was a year older than Finn, yet the difference in the way that they carried themselves made the gap appear double, perhaps triple. Whenever it was only her and Donal, she had a way of holding things back in conversation that bordered on patronizing, yet everything was easier, lighter around Siobhan. It was the exact opposite of how it felt being around Finn. Donal never understood why; it wasn’t for the lack of his brother’s love or trying.

Murrough slowed the horse as he approached the turn. The wagon rolled to a halt and the young people climbed down. Murrough looked squarely at Donal.

“Wait for Siobhan’s signal. She will be fine so long as you stick to the plan and focus on your brother.”

Donal nodded, doing his best to pretend he believed it.

Siobhan led him down the moonlit road. They slid into the treeline along the left as the tomb entered their line of sight.

“Wait here for the signal after I draw him out of the tomb,” Siobhan said. She pointed at Donal for effect. “No earlier. Got it?”

Donal pulled the knife from its sheath.

“No earlier. Hang on, what’s the signal again?”

“It will be very loud. Don’t worry.”

Siobhan emerged from the brush and sneaked down the road. She was almost even with the tomb when a headless figure emerged from the doorway.

For a moment Donal, Siobhan and the dullahan all stood in place. Siobhan was the first to move, sprinting north down the road as planned. The dullahan ran after her, passing on the chance to mount his horse. It had no facial expression to confirm but Donal chalked the decision up to one of surprise.

Siobhan had a 160-yard head start. She was fast, but the dullahan would overtake her given enough time. She ran until her pursuer was fifty yards away, then turned to face him. She said something made unintelligible by the distance between them and moonlight reflected off her stick.

She raised the walking stick over her head and then pointed the top of it at the dullahan.

“Tórann!” she yelled.

A thunderous boom sounded from her direction. Within seconds, the breeze of its shockwave had reached Donal and jostled him out of his shock. The dullahan scrambled to his feet, 20 yards further back from where he had been. Siobhan ran as soon as the noise sounded to regain some space.

That can’t be the signal, Donal thought, even as he ran for the tomb.

His brother’s yells grew louder as Donal neared the entrance. Donal stumbled on the decline and landed on his stomach, the knife flew ahead of him on the chamber floor.

“Donal! What are you doing here?” Finn asked.

“Exactly who else did you expect?”

“I… don’t know, actually. Just cut me loose!”

Donal hopped up and grabbed the knife. Finn had worked his bindings loose enough that Donal could sever them with little risk to his brother. He grabbed Finn’s arm as they stood up and the two ran out of the tomb.

Finn sprinted south towards the main road. Donal knew his brother had no reason to look behind, but he stopped to check on his partner. She was near the shore at the end of the road with the dullahan closing in.

“What are you staring at?” Finn asked as he ran back for his brother. “We have to get out of here!”

“Siobhan’s in trouble!” Donal said. “We didn’t have time to get set up.”

“Siobhan’s here, too?”

She was five hundred feet from where they stood. Donal looked down at the knife given to him. The idea that popped into his head was foolish but it was better than standing there, powerless, watching his friend overtaken by that creature.

He twisted his torso and reached back with his knife hand, as far back as his bones would stretch. The motion caused his other hand to extend in the opposite direction, straight ahead of him. The air touching his skin radiated heat as he let the knife fly with a loud grunt, expecting it to land a few dozen yards in front of him.

Siobhan heard Donal’s grunt and looked in Donal’s direction. The knife glinted in the moonlight as it traveled in an arc higher and farther than he had any right to hope. As the knife descended, she shifted her body and disappeared behind the dullahan’s cloak. The knife landed near its right shoulder blade and the creature dropped to one knee.

He could see Siobhan standing over it, and again she pointed the top of her walking stick at the creature and yelled.

“Gáeth nerto!”

The dullahan flew two feet into the air and thirty feet backwards. Siobhan ran toward the brothers, stopping only to retrieve her knife and give the creature an overhead chop with her stick. The swing wasn’t hard, but its target winced when it landed as if she had swung a mace.

Donal and Finn stood motionless in disbelief. The dullahan struggled to move. Siobhan was now halfway back to the tomb. As she neared, Donal could see a puzzled look on her face. He assumed she, too, couldn’t believe what had happened.

“Why are you two eejits standing there, gawking?” she yelled. “Leg it, dammit!”