In Fire And Darkness

Prologue

   The old blacksmith, Abelio, lived furthest from all the other huts in the fort-village of Aviliobris. He was a strange man and seldom ever left his abode, so much so that the other villagers thought he was mentally unstable. He was a quite person and kept to himself most of the time, rarely ever mingling with the other villagers. But amidst all this, Abelio was perhaps the greatest and most skilled blacksmith in all the land, for his weapons and tools were the sharpest and most durable ever wielded by those who bought them. Many tribes in the land of Hibernia knew of his amazing skill, and there were few in the land who could match such perfection in tool making.

   Abelio was abruptly woken up one night by a blinding flash of light and a thunderous explosion. Soon he heard the hooting of owls. Owls, he thought, the birds of Ankou, the God of Death. He got out of his bed with surprising agility and grabbed the dagger under his pillow. He crept to the front door and pushed it open quietly. The hooting of owls was louder. Abelio couldn’t see the source of the commotion, but he knew that more of those wretched birds had arrived. Something has died, he thought. As Abelio approached the rear of his hut, he saw scores of owls crowded around something, trying to bite whatever had died there.

  “Shoo!” shouted Abelio, trying to ward off the owls, “Go away you stupid birds!” The owls did not even acknowledge his presence. Furious, Abelio ran at the owls with his dagger drawn out. The birds flew away immediately and what he saw in front of him made his jaw drop. In the centre of all commotion, was the ripped and mangled body of a boy! He could tell that the boy was alive as his chest heaved up and down with every desperate breath he took. Throwing down his dagger, Abelio rushed to the boy and picked up his thin figure. Instantly, the owls flew off into the night, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. Desperate to save the boy, Abelio ran down to the village as fast as his old legs could carry him. He had to get to the local herbalist!

  “Madame 'Irmid! Madame 'Irmid!” cried Abelio as he neared the herbalist's hut. He reached the door of her hut and carefully put the boy on the ground. Banging on the door now, Abelio shouted, “Madame 'Irmid! Madame 'Irmid! There's an injured boy 'ere!” Abelio heard shuffling inside as someone scrambled to get to the door. It was opened from the inside by a hassled-looking woman. She certainly did not take kindly to being woken in the middle of the night. But her expression turned to one of surprise when she saw Abelio at her door and one of deep concern as soon as she saw the little boy slumped next to him. “By the Dagda!” exclaimed Madame 'Irmid, “Bring him in quickly Abelio!”

  She asked no questions as the boy was brought in, nor did she give Abelio inquiring looks as she worked hard to patch up the boy. She ran hither-thither inside her little hut, fetching herbs and medicines. As a good herbalist and doctor, her first thought was always for her patients, all questions could wait till afterwards. After about half an hour of cleaning up the wounds and wrapping them up in woollen sieves, Madame 'Irmid turned to Abelio.

  “My dear Abelio, wherever did you find this poor child?”

  “Behind my 'ouse!” said Abelio, “Those blasted owls pecked the poor boy half to death!”

  “Owls?” asked a surprised Madame 'Irmid, “I didn't hear any owls.” Owls were thought to be the associates of Ankou, the God of Death.

 “What do yeh mean? There were dozens of 'em pecking at the boy. They were louder than that clap of thunder that woke me up!”

 Clap of thunder? Madame 'Irmid had not heard anything of the sort. She eyed Abelio as if he was a dangerous animal. Perhaps this man really was insane.

 “What about the boy?”

 “He should be all right,” she said uneasily, glancing at the boy. “The wounds are only shallow. But I have not seen this boy in the village.”

 “I wouldn't know...” said Abelio.

 “Yes, I suppose you wouldn't. I'll have to make enquires on whose son he is in the morning.” she sighed. A moment of silence followed. “You can go back home now Abelio. The boy should be fine here.”

 Abelio looked at the sad state of the little boy he had found behind his house. He didn't know why, but Abelio felt a certain attachment to the boy. It was only in the light of Madame 'Irmid's hut did Abelio see that the boy was around two to three years of age. He looked so vulnerable, so fragile.

 “I cannot go Madame 'Irmid.” he said.

 “Of course you can. The boy is in capable hands Abelio.”

 “No... I cannot. I need to be here with 'im.”

 “Don't be foolish Abelio!”, said Madame 'Irmid with a stern look, “You needn't stay with him.” Madame 'Irmid didn't want to admit it, but Abelio scared her. The stories and rumours she had heard about him were enough to make anyone wary of him.

 “I need to be here!”, shouted Abelio.

 Madame 'Irmid was too terrified to say anything. “All right ..”, she whimpered in a small voice and retired to her room.

   The following morning, Madame 'Irmid made inquiries into whose son the boy was. No one came to claim him and so it was taken that the boy had been abandoned by a stranger. Abelio wanted to take him in, and naturally, the village chief was against this. This man was thought to be deranged by the people of the village, who would let a small boy into his care? But after many days of arguing, Abelio finally got official custody of the boy, given that he allow someone from the village to come and check on the boy every few days.

  So the boy grew. He was named after the God of thunder, 'Ambisagrus', because of the peculiar circumstances under which he had been found. And what a spectacularly normal boy he grew up to be! He was adamant and stubborn just like Abelio, but had a very reasonable mind too. He sure had a knack for learning as he learnt all the secrets to making good weapons and hunting from Abelio. He was told stories every night about Abelio and his days as a warrior. He even went and learnt a little something about herbalism from Madame 'Irmid everyday. Ambisagrus got along well with the other village boys, but was never their leader. Even so, they all looked up to him. They would spar with wooden swords day and night and play hunting games in the woods. Being brought up by Abelio, he was a natural at these games. Through the long summer days and cold winter nights, Ambisagrus found two good friends he could rely on, Drest and Bricius. Due to Ambisagrus, Abelio was now no longer considered a stranger to the village. He was more famous for his awesome blacksmithing skills than ever. The boy was the son that Abelio never had! What joy Ambisagrus brought to him!

  And so the years rolled by. Aviliobris was one of the rare peaceful Celtic tribes, and the neighbouring tribes respected that. The villagers of Aviliobris were left out their quarrels and troubles. Life was good. Life was peaceful. All that changed one early spring morning when a runner from a neighbouring tribe appeared at the village chief's hut, bleeding profusely and shouting words of warning.