=::= Duma Dé, One Thousand Six Hundred And Fifty-Five Years Ago =::=

"That's it m'lady," Caleb said in a low voice. "Duma Dé."

Saoirse brushed a few strands of long blonde hair from her face as she stared at the large flat-topped rocky hill in the distance before her. It looked exactly like the legends described.

After a few moments she said "Let's keep moving."

She urged her horse forward, and her four men moved with her. They'd been on the road for ten days now, the past eight through enemy territory. It was a dangerous, arduous journey and Saoirse hoped it would all be worth it.

This was perhaps not her last hope, but she felt it was her best hope.

When her father Aodh Brádaigh was killed in battle three years ago, he died without a son. That left Saoirse as the first woman to lead their clann. And now she feared she might be the last leader Clann Brádaigh would know. For she was unmarried, she had no children, and few prospects. Hers was a small, weak clann barely holding on to a thousand acres of land in the hotly contested Southern Marches.

Ongoing conflict with neighbouring clanns and families combined with constant raids from the wildlands to the south had taken a heavy toll on her people.

Saoirse knew if she married into another noble family, she'd be expected to take their name and produce heirs for them. She could take a husband from within her own clann, but there were no other nobles among the surviving Brádaighs. And although marrying a commoner would allow her to keep the name alive, her children would likely be challenged. Their right to call themselves nobility would be called into question, and Clann Brádaigh's existence would remain under threat.

The clann was already under threat as it was. Saoirse was young, she was only three hundred and twenty. People would be questioning her fitness to lead the clann at that age if she were a man. As a woman, people questioned her ability to lead at all, at any age. It was only a matter of time before one or another of the neighbouring clanns decided to make a move against her.

Rather than waiting for the inevitable attacks, she decided to take matters into her own hands. This pilgrimage to Duma Dé might not yield any results, but she felt it was worth the effort. Her great-grandmother told her stories of when the Gods were more involved in the affairs of mortals. She said the Gods respected bravery and determination.

Most fae nowadays paid little more than lip-service to the Gods or their Duma. They thought the stories were mere legends and fables. They believed places like Duma Dé were no more than curiosities, that if the Gods ever really existed they didn't care about the trials and tribulations of the mortal fae.

Perhaps people were right, but if the stories were true then Saoirse hoped she might convince the Gods to help her and her clann.

She glanced around at the men who accompanied her on this trip. Aiden, Caleb, Gavin, and Sean. Gavin and Caleb served and fought alongside her father. Sean was Gavin's son, and a brave warrior in his own right. Aiden was Saoirse's cousin, and had also proved his mettle in battle two years ago.

Saoirse herself had seen combat as well. As the only child of Aodh Brádaigh she'd been taught the bow and the sword. She'd been taught to be a clann leader, even though Aodh hoped for a son up until the day his wife died.

Her father was urged by many to take another wife, and he may have eventually done so had he lived another century. Instead he fell to an enemy archer, and now the future of Clann Brádaigh lay with Saoirse.

"We'll make camp at the base," she announced. "The four of you will remain there, I will ascend alone."

"Are you sure that's wise, m'lady?" The large man on her left asked. He sounded almost worried as he added, "The stories say..."

"I know what they say Sean," she cut him off. "The pixies won't interfere with me if I show them respect."

After that none of her companions questioned her, and the group rode on in silence until they reached the base of the Duma. It was hard to get a good indication of time due to the constant dull-grey overcast of the sky, but it felt like they were not far from sunset.

Working quietly they started setting up camp together. Saoirse and Gavin tended the horses, Caleb and Aiden set up their tents, and Sean got a small fire going so the group could have a hot meal. They'd carried their own firewood here from the forest, but their supply was limited. The fire would be for cooking only, then it would be extinguished.

In under an hour the camp was set and ready, and a modest dinner prepared. The five sat in a small circle and ate quietly.

After the meal Saoirse announced, "I may be up there until dawn. Whatever happens, do not come up after me. Wait here. If I'm not back by sunrise, then you may climb the Duma."

"Lady Saoirse," Gavin said in his low rumbly voice. "You are a brave woman and that may make a good epitaph, but if you are lost tonight then Clann Brádaigh will be lost with you. Are you sure you want to risk this alone?"

"I am sure Gavin," she replied. "Whether our clann dies tonight, or a hundred years hence, if I do nothing it will one day die. And I'm sure this night won't be the end of me. You know as well as I, most fae believe the stories are just that. Odds are a night alone atop Duma Dé will earn me nothing more than a lost night's sleep and a cold and aching backside. Stay here, rest, and wait. I'll see you all by morning."

With that she started making her way up the rocky slope. She'd seen pixies dancing about the top of the Duma earlier, but they were gone now. Or more likely they were still here, but hiding as they spied on her.

Once at the top, Saoirse moved to the middle. She lowered herself down to sit on the cold hard ground, then lay back so she was staring up at the dark grey sky. Finally she closed her eyes, and began to pray.

She described her plight to the Gods, told them of her father's fate. She explained how she was the last Brádaigh with noble blood, and she wished to keep her family and her clann alive. She wanted to see them prosper, and she begged the Gods for help.

Saoirse remained there all night, repeating her prayer and her plea. In the end, morning came rather than a God or an answer. She made her way back down the Duma to her men and her camp, and spent the day in her tent, asleep.

The following night she tried again, she ascended the Duma alone to pray. And once again her pleas were met with only silence.

She spent a second day asleep in her tent.

That evening Gavin warned her, "M'lady our supplies are low. Success or not, we must leave tomorrow."

"I understand," Saoirse replied. "This will be my final night atop Duma Dé."

For the third and final time she climbed up the rocky slope and took her place in the centre of the Duma. For the third and final time she began her prayers.

And this night, she received an answer. Some time in the darkest part of the night, Saoirse realized the constant overcast had broken and she could see stars above her. Then she realized she was no longer alone.

She sat up and looked. Standing in the starlight a few paces from her was an unfamiliar man.

He was dressed like a druid or wise man, with a long dark cloak draped over his shoulders and a tall sturdy wooden staff in his hand. Despite the low light Saoirse could tell he was tall and muscular and handsome. He stood well over six feet tall, probably six-foot-four. His hair and beard were a dark deep red colour, and his eyes were a bright piercing blue.

"Who are you?" she asked warily.

The man introduced himself, in a deep and powerful voice. "You may call me Ruad Rofhessa. I have heard your pleas Saoirse Brádaigh, and I am here to answer your prayers. I will grant you an heir, and your child will save Clann Brádaigh, and elevate the clann beyond your dreams."

After a pause he added, "As with all things, there must be a price."

Saoirse recognized the name from the legends. She knew it was an alias, and she knew who the tall bearded figure really was.

She bowed her head and replied "I will pay your price, Ruad Rofhessa."

• • • • •

Another powerful contraction struck her, and despite herself Saoirse cried out with the pain. When it passed she slumped back again and took a deep breath.

To her left stood the clann's healer. To her right was the midwife. Both were watching and waiting. Saoirse knew her son would be here any time now. She hoped he would come soon, she'd had just about enough of this labour nonsense.

The rest of the Brádaigh stronghold was quiet. Everyone knew what was at stake tonight. If all went well Clann Brádaigh would have a new heir. But childbirth was still a dangerous business, even with magic at hand. If things went badly, the clann might lose its leader.

Saoirse also knew her detractors were already spreading rumours. They claimed the child's father was one of the four men who'd accompanied her on her pilgrimage last year. About half the rumours claimed Caleb was the father, and that he'd been killed on the voyage home to secure the secret. The other half claimed one of the other three was the father, and Caleb was murdered because he was jealous and threatened to expose the truth.

In actual fact the five of them ran into an ambush on their way back to the Brádaigh stronghold. Caleb died in combat, fighting to protect Saoirse's life. The rumours didn't bother her for her own sake, but she resented that Caleb's memory was tainted by such disrespect.

Part of the problem was she couldn't simply tell everyone the truth. That was one of Ruad Rofhessa's terms, she was not permitted to tell anyone who the child's father really was.

Her line of thought was interrupted by the next contraction, and she cried out again in pain before she was able to relax once more.

"Try to relax my Lady," the midwife said in a soft voice. "The baby is nearly here."

Saoirse snapped out a reply that included words which would make the most callous warrior blush, but the midwife took it all in stride. She'd heard that and worse before, and she'd hear it again.

As she awaited the next contraction, Saoirse recalled the rumours once more. She knew some of the naysayers were even taking bets on who the child would look like out of Aiden, Caleb, Gavin, and Sean. Though there were some disputes about the odds for the last two, since Sean himself looked like Gavin. If her son looked like one he'd also look like the other.

Not that it really mattered. Soon enough the child would be born, and Saoirse knew he wouldn't look like any of the fae in the clann, for her son's father was something else entirely.

Pushing the rumours from her mind she thought instead about the name she selected. She would call her son Aodh, after her father, so he could carry on her father's legacy.

Her thoughts were interrupted again as she let out another loud cry. The contractions were coming faster now. The midwife moved closer, as did the healer.

Saoirse lost track of time. For a while there was pain, followed by exhaustion.

She finally slumped back on her bed as the midwife gently handed her a little bundle of newborn life. Saoirse saw the wisps of bright purple hair on the babe's head and smiled. She knew all the wagers would be lost, this child's looks were unique.

As she took the baby into her arms, the midwife smiled to her and said "Lady Saoirse, you have a beautiful healthy baby girl."

"What?" Saoirse stared at the woman for a few moments. Then she unwrapped the blankets from around the babe to see for herself.

She was expecting a boy. She was told her child would save the clann and elevate them to greatness. But it was true, the Gods had not granted her a son.

Saoirse lay back again on her bed, and as she held her daughter a name suddenly came to her. It was a name that most people knew meant 'beautiful hill', which was sort of fitting considering where the child was conceived. But in a more obscure translation, the name could also refer to the stars or heavens, which was a nodd to where the girl's father came from.

She gave her child a gentle kiss and whispered, "I name you Taralynn."

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