Prophecy Of Kings: Volume 1 ✔️

Chapter 19 - Scald Law (Part 1)

Firmin sat awkwardly atop the Reindeer, bobbing stiffly as Rupert galloped Southward. Looking behind him, he watched as the majestic towers of Gleann Lucha Palace became obscured by the horizon. Firmin gasped as he turned back to the road ahead; the Pentland hills formed a stunning vista, each peak trying to out-do the other, reaching up above the clouds and towards the heavens.

"Apparently two sides of the earth crashed together thousands of years ago," said Firmin, savouring the view.

"Did they aye?" Huffed Ru, as he trotted on, seemingly oblivious to the beauty of the landscape ahead.

"Yes, I was told, it was like two great armies clashing together, and when they ran out of space they continued the fight upwards and upwards until there was only one victor.

"Hoho, nonsense!" Rupert replied. "During the great war fan the Tuatha De Dannann fought the Fomorians, they rose the mountains oot o' the ground and opened the gates tae Dubnos."

"Dubnos? Never heard of it?"

"Aye I suppose ye would nea have Sassenach! It's what you lot call hell."

Firmin suddenly felt uneasy as the mountains loomed ever closer, grabbing tightly to Rupert's thick coat. "Why would they open the gates to Hell? Surely not the smartest of ideas?"

"Hoho, tae banish the Famorians, of course! They were the spawn o' demons, taking on the forms o' monsters. The Tuatha De had nae choice but tae transform intae beasts themselves tae try and defeat them.

"What happened after that?" said Firmin, perking up like a child at story time.

"Well, they captured most o' them, throwing them intae the firey pits of Dubnos at the peaks o' the mountains. Fan the fight was over, the Tuatha De warriors ascended tae Albios as a reward, leaving their descendants tae spread o'er oor glorious country."

"Now who's speaking nonsense?" Scoffed Firmin. I almost believed him there for a second.

Rupert came to a sudden halt. "Me?" He turned slightly, allowing him to lock eyes with Firmin. "The bit I never telt ye was that some o' the monsters managed tae escape... in fact, ye met one o' them last night."

"Kione." The name barely escaped Firmin's breath; only those with keen ears could have heard it carry on in the biting breeze.

"Aye, that nasty beastie. He's nae the only one either!"

Shuddering, Firmin attempted to change the conversation. "Rupert," he said in a questioning tone. "I do not recognise this place. It is not the way to Dun Eideann is it?"

"Hoho, aye sharp as ever! We're avoiding that place, it is heaving with your kind now. Remember, yer a wanted man."

"Then where are we..."

"Tae Scald Law! Some o' my Kin live up in the hills around there. We'll stay the night 'fore heading tae Carlyle Castle."

"I think one of you is enough Rupert," jested Firmin, patting Ru's side.

"Aye, yer probably right there! We won't be seein' them fer a while though, it's too warm down here fer the McBeaths'. The hairy lot have tae hide higher up till the leaves start fallin'."

"Hairier than you my friend?" Said Firmin with a smirk, as he dismounted from Ru's back.

"Hoho aye, ye better believe it pal!" He gestured upwards with his eyes, "they've even got fuzzy antlers." Rupert chuckled with a tarandus laugh as they walked in tandem up the increasing incline; the heavens appearing ever closer as tendrils of swirling mist broke free from the cloudy-canopy and slithered down the mountainside.

*****

Firmin shivered involuntarily as he trudged up the rugged slope. Squeezing the fabric of his flowing kilt close to his skin, he looked up to search for Rupert, who had trotted off ahead. The sweeping landscape had entirely disappeared, having been blocked out by the misty domain they had ascended into. Surely the Gods must like the cold, Firmin pondered as he focused on putting one fatigued foot in front of the other.

The sound of tumbling rocks reverberated ahead, as Firmin felt the gentle knock of smaller sized rocks glance off of his legs. Then, silence. He could swear he heard his heart beat as though there were two in his chest; the frightened thumps echoed in the mists, or maybe, it was just beating that fast.

"Rupert?" He whispered out into the spiraling fog. There was no reply. The clicking of footsteps rallied from his left, then, suddenly spread out around Firmin; his head swivelled in place as he drew his sword. Trained ears told him there were around twenty men drawing near to him... or ten McBeaths perhaps?

"Show yourselves," he said, stiffening as rigid as the shaft of his sword. Where the hell have you gone Rupert? Loud grunts encircled him, followed by darkened outlines, and then...

"Who are ye? And whit are ye deein in Scald Law?" A reindeer the size of a small horse emerged from the mist. It's tufted beard waggled as it spoke; and, although smaller than Rupert in stature, it's cumbersome ashen coat doubled its size and made its appearance fearsome to any man who gazed upon it.

Another reindeer lept from the mist with frightening speed. With its forelegs raised in the air like two hooved clubs, it hammered into Firmin's back, knocking him to the ground with little resistance. "Lost are we, wee man?" He barked at the flattened Knight.

"Enough Fergus," said the reindeer that first emerged from the mists, with an air of authority. "Hard fer a man te answer ye when yer standing on top o' him."

"Aye Erskine," said Fergus, bowing his head towards his Chief as he stepped off of Firmin.

Coughing profusely, Firmin forced himself to his feet, picking up his sword and brandishing it instinctively. His eyes circled around his head, confirming that there were in fact ten McBeaths surrounding him. Not good odds. Could really use a hand Rupert.

"I can see yer wearing MacBean tartan, but I can tell ye, yer certainly no any MacBean av ever met!" Erskine furrowed his hairy brow as he spoke.

"This was given to me by a friend," said Firmin confidently. "I am here with Rupert MacBean."

"Do ye hear him?" Said Fergus. "He's one of them! He has nae right to wear the tartan of oor Kin." The reindeer grunted in agreement; hooves knocked on the ragged stones underfoot in a seeming protest to Firmin's presence.

"Rupert!" Shouted Firmin, out over the heads of the reindeer, however, the desolate mountains shouted Rupert's name back with an echoed tone.

"Av heard enough," said Erskine, as he gestured his head towards Firmin. " Marbh e air làrach nam bonn."

Firmin didn't know what the Chief said to his men, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been good. A reindeer charged from behind once more, but Firmin was ready this time. Forcing a breath of frozen air deep into his lungs, he spun as he swung his sword over his left shoulder, meeting a hairy antler and swiftly removing it from the reindeers body. The beast carried on through the air, crashing down onto the ground and sliding on the loose gravel at the feet of his Chief. Firmin grunted as he composed himself quickly, ready to counter any other beast that dared charge.

A great shadow grew in the mists, and from out of it, Rupert emerged. Leaping over the head of the McBeath Chief, he landed short of Firmin. Suddenly the wind whipped up around him, causing the reindeer to rear in shock. The cracking of a falling oak filled the air; like a snapping trunk torn in a great storm; but there were no such trees at high altitudes. When the wind settled, Rupert emerged with his hands held out in front of him.