The Realm of the Sun

Nightfall at Headquarters

          The sun slipped from the trees just as Cú Chulainn's unit had settled into what Tara had come to know as the West Quarter of the wooded oasis. The West Quarter consisted of several huts low to the ground, much to her delight, and an open space in between for a fire pit. Many of the soldiers gathered round the blazing fire now, resting their tired bodies on giant stones and logs. Tara's muscles ached already from her journey so far, but she hardly felt it. She was so thrilled to be in such a peaceful environment, to have a full belly, and to have spoken to the king Connor mac Nessa himself just a day after she was living with peasants.

          Night had fallen and—as she knew well—the forest past sundown was as dark as the grave. To combat this dark and continue their lives into the night, this unique canopy community had strung paper lanterns all along the railings and bridges of their unconventional village. The lights provided a warm glow and it looked like there were thousands of paper lanterns stretching up to the sky. Looking up as far as she could see, Tara could barely discern the candles from stars. The faint murmurs of the citizens' chatter and laughter made her feel a kind of warmth in her chest she had never known before. She wished she and Nessie could have lived in this community with the other refugee Ultans, the soldiers and their families. It was a true safe haven, so cleverly designed and carefully hidden.

          Now as Tara gazed into this candle-lit city in the sky, she could hear Cú Chulainn a few steps away. He was far enough away that his words were not all clear, but she could gather he was explaining the next plan of action to another 'head of unit', which she had come to understand, was his true title.

          "Beautiful, isn't it?" came a familiar voice. Tara's eyes drifted down from the heavens to find Lir, sitting on a log beside her.

          "Yes, it's extraordinary," she marveled, glancing up once more at the tree village, "I wish I could stay here forever."

          "You can, you know," he said, with raised eyebrows and a serious smile.

          "Oh," she searched for an answer, "I suppose you're right, but no, I plan to go on. With all of you."

          "Because you've a good arm?"

          "No," she replied, with an appreciative smile.

          "Every knight's reason is personal," he said with a supportive nod of his head, knowing by her look that he could not pry her motivation out of her if he tried. Tara smiled again, feeling fortunate to have meant him earlier that day. It already felt like they had known each other for years.

          "Well, if it isn't Sir Morag, His Royal Highness," Lir joked as his sullen friend approached.

          "Comrades," Morag addressed them both in his dry monotone and sat on the log beside Tara. His shoulder-length black hair had been tied back, a stray piece tucked behind his ear.

          "Red here met the king, first time at Headquarters," Lir bragged, as though it were his own doing.

           "Aye, how is Ol' Connor?" Morag asked, amused.

           "He was very nice," Tara said, honestly, "and he looked so little like a king."

           "Oh, have you met a wide array?" Morag's lips inched closer to a smile than she had yet seen. Tara's face turned red with embarrassment.

          "No, no, I just meant that he seemed so..." she struggled.

          "Real?" Lir suggested.

          "Yes, exactly," she concurred. Lir nodded, understandingly.

          "That's because he is. He doesn't have 'royal blood' as they call it in Connaught," he explained, "He's started from the very bottom and earned his place on the throne of Ulster. With his brains and his skill and no help. Now that is true revolution. That is what this fight is all about."