It had been about three week’s time since the departure of the ship baring Aedon’s wife and children to visit her family. One day a messenger came from across the bay with the news that the ship had never made it to port. It was hoped that with a sudden storm cropping up the captain had come about and returned to Connemara. A search of the waters between the Highlands and the point of departure found wreckage from the vessel. No bodies were ever recovered, and it was assumed that all souls aboard were lost.
The news devastated Aedon, and he took to sitting alone on the porch overlooking the Bay of Galway. He had no interest in affairs of the kingdom and even Figol’s prodding and encouragement had no effect on his grief. His one bright spot was Aramis, but though he loved his son deeply, he was unable to look upon him without recalling his great loss, and pain. Therefore, he sent the lad to live in the McDermott household.
Aramis was happy in the smith’s shop, much as his father before had been. And Sean took extra time to help him through his grief. There he had a playmate in the person of Sean’s son John. The lad stood a good head taller than Aramis, with a ready laugh and an impish grin. Always ready to cause a bit of mischief, John easily drew Aramis into his conspiracies. Before long the two were known as the terrors of Minoc.
Back in the main house Aedon seemed to be drawing further inside himself. Figol found that he was now dealing with the day to day running of the kingdom, a position the mage had not bargained for. One day, after having had enough of the mundane works of men - the mage went to Aedon’s room and confronted him. He was taken aback by the over flowing of anger and grief directed at him by the over wrought man. Years of loss, and pain seemed to over flow at once, as Aedon accused Figol of not only being happy at the loss of his family, but having planned and executing the event. His tirade ended, Aedon laid his head on his desk and seemed to fall into a deep sleep. Sitting across from him, Figol watched his creation wrapped in unspeakable sorrow and harkened back to a day many long years ago.
The manipulation of the Durreah line had been meticulous. From father to son for generations they have been moved around, paired with others and herded like cattle to the next home. Men never had a choice in the choice of a mate. Always it seemed that Figol had found for them the right one. And each man, for years to come watched as children died, to be quickly replaced by another offspring. Mothers laboring hard in birth were visited at the point of breach by the vision of an old man dressed in wizard’s garb, face concealed. To each woman one question was asked.
“What would you give for your child?”
The answers to this question varied from vows of gold, gems and riches untold to nothing at all, I never wanted this brat. Some children were born and took their place in the ongoing breeding process, and others allowed the peace of oblivion. And always the Gathering urged Figol to try again, and bring in more stock.
When Aedon’s father Ethan was in the youth of his reign he was, as the others of his line wed to a woman whose family line showed some promise. A marriage of convenience, the King had little interest in siring children with his queen, but again Figol cast his spells and of this union a child was born. His father named him Llyrwech which in their language meant "born of kings." As Llyr grew, he showed many of the qualities of the Durreah line which Figol found wanting. He did not seem to be suitable to the cause, but there was still a measure of greatness about him. Figol therefore kept the child and allowed him to grow. Llyrs mother was a bitter woman and offered no time to her son who was instead raised by nursemaids within the castle. When the woman died Llyrwech was ten years of age, and although she had never shown him a kindness, Llyr grieved long for her. The king went on with matters of state, and tried to spend as much time as possible with the young prince.
One day, Ethan made a stop at the blacksmith shop to inquire about a sword he had ordered. Clancy McDermott was a bit of a legend in the area, Known for his fine work and exquisite swords, he had been named Royal Blacksmith and moved, along with his family to a nice shop on the grounds of the castle. Living quarters were also provided for his family. This made it easy for him to be at the call of the king, and yet still spend time with his growing family.
As he entered the shop he was struck mute by the vision which greeted him. Mary McDermott, eldest of Clancy’s children was tending the counter. Ethan was so taken with her beauty, smile and gentle laugh that he took to spending more time at the smithy in the hop of seeing her. Mary too was moved by the manner and attentions of the king, and soon they expressed their love for one another.
It had always been Ethan’s desire to wed Mary, but fate and Figol took a hand in things and soon the young woman found that she was indeed carrying a child. She understood that Ethan could not step forth and claim her as wife because the proper time since his wife’s death had not passed. So they took to meeting in silence at the smithy, or in the pasture that lay just beyond the McDermott’s house. It was decided that when the time was right, the king and Mary would wed, and he would take her child on as an heir.
The Gathering in Athryvald was not pleased with the recent turn of events and summoned Figol to a meeting. Mary had interfered with their work and endangered the completion of the project. Figol was therefore ordered to destroy the woman and the child she bore. Figol believed that something might come of this coupling, and wished to try something he had been giving thought to. So he went to the woman as she slept, and performing a silent ritual imbued her and her unborn child with a bit of his own magical essence.
Going outside and calling on the wind, Figol watched as a golden moongate appeared over Connemara which encompassed the house, and smithy. As the winds began to swirl around the buildings, a loud hum built, and the houses faded from view. Then turning his face towards the village, Figol spoke a few words, and stepped through the gate.
The people of Connemara would carry no memory of the castle, king or any associated with the Durreah or McDermott line. The Gathering would have to look long to find where Figol had gone, and by then, he hoped to have progress to show them.
Mary’s time came, and as she lay on a bed in the home of her father, hard in labor, Figol came to her and setting a small blackthorn box etched with Celtic runes beside her asked;
“What would you give for your child?”
Without hesitation Mary replied;
“I would give my life.”
The child was born, but his mother never had the chance to look on his face. As he drew his first breath, Mary breathed her last. Overcome with grief Ethan could neither look at nor accept the child. Figol named the boy Aedon meaning fire. And then handing the child to his grandfather Clancy, Figol picked up the box, and walked outside.
Standing on a hill not far from the main building of Connemara, Figol again called on the wind. He watched as the large swallow tailed kite approached and landed with grace on the ground before him. Bowing to the Nemira Figol held out the box and told her the story of Ethan and Mary and of the son the woman would never get to see.
So moved was Nemira by the tale of love and loss -she consented to take within her the heart and soul of Mary McDermott. In this way perhaps one day mother could look upon her son and be proud. Figol held the box aloft as a small golden moongate encompassed it –a low steady hum could be heard, and then slowly, the box vanished.
Nemira smiled feeling the gentle grace of the woman who was now a part of her and looking to Figol said.
“He is now my child, and I will tend him with care.”
Bowing again to the bird, Figol turned to go back inside, as Nemira spread her wings and flew off to the east.