Chapter 1
The Prophet & The Scribe
AD 500
“All of us are fraught with the pangs and struggles of our duality—that ever-present tug and pull of the two disparate and powerful forces that exist within us. And so it will be for the two black-haired beauties of my dreams. One had eyes blazing like blue sapphires filled with the flaming light of life. The other possessed deep black orbs that virtually oozed of desperation and rage. Separate beings, yes, but both inescapably comprised of elements and aspects of the other.”
The Druid Priest and Prophet, Erin
Looking down the valley from the opening of the cave, through white flakes floating haphazardly towards the ground, Adair could see Erin’s apparition inching its way up the slope in the sluggish, unsteady movement of the aged. Adair had tried to assist his master along the final leg of his journey, but Erin had gazed up into Adair’s eyes, shook his head, and in a shaky yet determined voice, spoke softly saying, “This is my journey. I must… do it alone.”
Reaching the cave ahead of his master, Adair walked into the cavern. He unloaded his burdens from the large satchel on his back and the smaller one tied at his waist with a sash. He then completed the preparations for his master’s arrival. He set out candles and lit a peat fire inside the ring of stones that some previous inhabitant had built. Finally, he organized the small amounts of food, herbs, and water that remained from their journey, placing them near the edge of the steaming cauldron at the back of the cave.
Finishing his tasks, he again stood at the entrance and glared into the storm, searching for the whereabouts of his master. Through the clouds of accumulating snow, it took a moment to find him; but when he did, it seemed that Erin had made little progress. He could tell the old man was beyond tired, almost ready to collapse. Slumping forward and leaning on his staff, he was on what they both knew was his final and ultimate journey. His tattered clothes were heavy and stuck to his frame, while his brown, patched woolen robe drooped and slid along the ground like an anchor, hampering his every step on the primordial path traversing the Lost Valley floor.
Adair could hardly stand to watch any longer. He had served Erin for eight years and owed him his life. When he was ten, Adair’s parents had been killed in a fire that consumed their thatched home. Erin had seen the fire from the Druid settlement nearby and brought help as quickly as he could, but it had been too late for Adair’s parents. Hearing a sound nearby, Erin followed it and found Adair sitting on the ground, slumped over and crying. He had taken pity on the young boy and immediately made him his servant. However, once he saw how quick and intelligent Adair was, he also trained him to be his scribe. They had been together ever since and were very close. Adair would have done anything for Erin and, even now, nearly succumbed to his desire to rush down and give Erin aid, but he stood fast, obeying his wishes, and simply looked on. He would not interfere, at least not yet.
The old Druid priest and he had undertaken this journey because Erin had decided that it was his time to die and be reborn in order to truly become the prophet that his dreams had foretold. As a Druid, Erin knew that every leader of standing had embarked a similar path to enlightenment, and it was his destiny to come to this most sacred of places, the Uaimh an Aisling, or Cave of Dreams. It must happen here, and it must happen now.
His sandaled feet, almost completely numb from the icy snow, continued to slide along the stones, scuffing away the white flakes and exposing the dark, slick rocks beneath. He almost fell several times, but somehow maintained his balance. The solid oak staff that had been his for all of his life was held tightly in his white-knuckled hand. He leaned on it now more fervently than ever, feeling the long and arduous climb in every muscle and bone of his body. It seemed as if it had been months since they left their home on Innis-nam Druidbneach—the Isle of the Druids.
Pausing, he turned his head and glanced over his shoulder towards the valley floor, where only that morning he and Adair had stood alongside a lonely, gnarled pine near a fork in a stream. At that moment, the climb had not seemed nearly as difficult or foreboding. They had both felt sure that they would be able to reach the cave together before the oncoming storm set in. However, it had not worked out as they had hoped. Erin was still laboring upwards while the layers of white, sugary crystals collected in deeper and deeper drifts along the path.
Wet and cold dripped from the creases in his pale skin, and his ragged clothing did little to keep the bitter temperatures at bay. Every few steps, he halted and stared ahead in desperate hope that he might be almost there.
He was somewhat closer; he could see Adair now, standing at the entrance to the cave. However, at this point, Erin was shaking uncontrollably and could feel the detrimental effects of the height of the mountain, his weariness, and his lack of food and water—all of which were sapping whatever strength he had left. He ached and yearned to stop and lie down, but something kept pushing him onwards as he placed one foot in front of the other—one step, then another, and another—then a pause—another step, then another, and another…
With less than a stone’s throw between himself and Erin, Adair had had enough. He sprang from the lip of the cave and ran to meet his old friend. Sliding to a stop, he reached out and could see how pale and weak Erin had become. Neither of them hesitated any longer. Erin raised his shaky hand and grabbed onto Adair’s shoulder. Together they trudged the last few steps, climbed up to the entrance, and walked into the mouth of the Cave of Dreams.
***
Adair had done everything he could to help Erin recover. First, he took him to the back of the cave, where the fire burned hottest and the broiling pool radiated warmth and moisture into the air. He stripped him down, laid his clothes out to dry, and helped him sit against the back wall on top of his sleeping fur. He then covered Erin with his tattered cloak. It wasn’t thick or even all that warm, but it was considerably drier than the clothes he’d removed.
With the fire and the moist warmth seeping up through the cracks at the bottom of the pool, Adair could see Erin beginning to improve. He heated some broth and fed it to him slowly, along with a piece of hard bread, some dried fruit, and grains. When Erin had finished eating, Adair gave him a few sips of mulled wine from his leather flask.
Erin’s color was returning, and Adair thought he even saw the beginnings of a smile creep across his master’s lips. He asked, “Ye finally stopped shiverin' hae ye?”
“I’m better, Adair. Much better… Thank ye, lad.”
Adair continued to look on with a great deal of concern and asked, “Coods ye gezz yer hans? I’ll check yer feit tay. If yer warmer, there’s maire I’ll need tae dae?” He felt Erin’s extremities and was satisfied. “Noo, let’s gei ye intae th’ water, ya ken. At’ll warm yer innards.”
Erin chuckled weakly and stood with Adair’s help. “Aye, I’ve been eye’n that bubblin’ pool for a while now.”
“Well, ye tak’ it easy noo. Slaw an’ easy, ye hear. We don’t want tae stop ‘at heart a’ yers. Aye?”
It wasn’t always easy for Erin to understand Adair’s strong brogue. He didn’t always speak that way but did slip back into it at times, especially when he was excited or nervous. At this particular moment, though, Erin knew exactly what his scribe had said. They stood quietly together for a moment, waiting for Erin to regain his balance. Then Adair guided him carefully towards the pool.
Once at the edge, Adair gradually lowered Erin into the hot, effervescent water. After a couple of steps, he stopped suddenly and almost pulled his old friend back out when he heard him groan in pain. But Erin squeezed Adair’s muscular arm and said, “Aye. I’m all right. Just a bit slower, ye ken.” The temperature of the water was almost as much of a shock to the old man as the terrible cold had been earlier. However, the deeper they went, the more rapidly Erin’s aging body adapted, and the more comforting it felt. When the water reached the level of his chest, he glanced back at Adair, and a broad smile of relief lit up his face.
Adair noticed and said, “Aye, that’s the way!”
Erin could only agree. “Aye!”
And for the first time in a long, long while, his timeworn body did not ache or pain him nearly as much. The ravages of age and years had not completely gone away, but he felt well enough that any remaining malady was insignificant.
When Adair knew that Erin was more comfortable, he ushered him to the side of the pool and lowered him onto a large flat stone where he could sit, and the water would slosh comfortably up against his neck. The smell of sulfur and other minerals wafted into his nose, along with the rising clouds of vapor that disappeared as they rose towards the ceiling of the domed chamber. Adair then joined Erin, finding a rock of his own close by and gave his own deep and reverent sigh as he, too, settled into the bubbling water. “Can ye believe thes? Ah ne’er thought we’d make it.”
Erin smiled back, unable to speak or react. Then the realization of actually sitting in the Reckoning Pool inside the Cave of Dreams hit him. He had envisioned this for more years than he could count, and now it was real. He was finally home.
Peering through the drifting patches of fog surrounding him, Erin became cognizant of the cave’s smooth rock floor. He had expected it to be covered in dirt. After all, this was a cave, but the floor looked as if a stonemason had laid out dark, flat slabs of rock with great care in order to make it easier to enter the water. In the bubbling pool, the glistening rocks were clean and slick. The edges of each had been chiseled off so that a person could enter the pool with bare feet and recline on the sitting stones without scraping or cutting a foot or hand.
Erin couldn’t help wondering who had done this. Then he remembered something he’d read: the fissure entering the Cave of Dreams was high up on the side of Aonach Dubh, almost at the very end of the Lost Valley. At one time a much older race of men had lived here. He thought it likely that they were the ones responsible for the rockwork.
Inching himself into a slightly higher position on his pedestal gave Erin a slightly better view of the cavern. The peat fire that Adair had lit was providing light, heat, and protection from any unwanted visitors, be they human or animal, and as it burned, Erin sniffed the air for any sign of smoke. Nothing. He could neither smell nor see a single puff of smoke collecting inside the room where they were sitting. The smoke that he could see was being drawn rapidly up through a crack in the ceiling, leaving the chamber’s air clean and smelling of minerals from the springs that fed the pool. It was a wonder, as if the Earth had prepared this place as a home for those who would enter and live here.
As the flickering fire danced across the roof and walls, Erin began to observe more intentionally. There were rough paintings covering the surfaces—depictions of animals, people, spears, and fires. Children, plants, and women also adorned parts of the chamber’s walls and ceiling. This sacred, primeval cavern obviously possessed an intricate and deep history. Then he noticed one painting in particular done in several different colors. There was a man lying down by a fire; he was outlined in black, while the flames of the fire were rendered in reds, yellows, oranges, and a bit of blue and green. From the top of the man’s head, many images flowed up and outwards in white. Erin thought for a moment and realized that the man was dreaming—dreaming of strange and wondrous things that floated away into the distance, escaping and moving beyond his ken.
Erin continued to stare at the painting, marveling at its prescience. It reminded him of the reason for his own pilgrimage. The figure on the wall—it was him. He was the dreamer. He would have those dreams. He was the one who would see beyond and into places he would never live—places far away in time, many years hence. This was his destiny. He had come to the right place to die.
***
Adair and Erin remained sequestered in the cave for several days as the violent storm played itself out. It wasn’t even the heart of winter yet; the storm had been a freak early blizzard that had smothered the Lost Valley and the nearby mountain peaks in a thick crystalline blanket of white.
Erin took this time to prepare for what was to come and to heal his body. He knew these days—the ones before Adair would leave—were provided to him as a respite from the travails of his journey. And he would every one of them.
Adair, on the other hand, being young and strong, rapidly regained his strength and sometimes left the cave, even while the storm continued. He would never leave without first tending to Erin’s needs. But once that was accomplished, he would go out to gather whatever berries or roots he could find beneath the surface of the new snow. He was also determined to find fresh meat, knowing that it would be critical to Erin’s recovery. The deep snow and the time of year made that task much more difficult, but ever since his youth, he had a unique talent that proved to be quite useful. If he was able to locate something to kill, he knew it could not escape him. He could hit any target with his dagger within twenty paces or so, even on the run.
He had been out hunting for the two previous days without success, but on the third, he finally ran across several brown, fat hares. They stood out boldly against the white snow, as they had not yet changed into their camouflaged winter coats. Adair used the cover of the snowdrifts to track them and crawled on his belly—his dagger at the ready. When he was close enough, he quickly came to his knees and flicked his weapon towards the largest one in the group. It struck home. The other hares scattered rapidly and disappeared. Adair smiled and picked up his prey from the red-stained ground, knowing that he could now provide something substantial for his master and for himself.
He then returned carrying a small bag of berries and the rabbit carcass, which he proceeded to skin and cook over the fire. The aroma of the freshly cooked meat was almost more than the two of them could bear, as it dripped and sizzled. They waited as long as they could and then ate. It was clearly what they needed, as they ripped at the roasted meat with their teeth, the juices dripping from their hands and chins until all of it was gone, and the bones were picked clean.
***
The morning had finally arrived for Adair’s departure. He blinked himself awake, sat up, and glanced towards the entrance of the dark cave. A bright sun must have brought on the new day. He could see its rays streaming in and hitting the walls that curved back towards the chamber where they had slept. Erin was still sleeping; his soft breathing echoed from the corner of the chamber where he lay. It was a sound Adair had heard many times. It gave him comfort and calmed him.
Gradually slipping out from under his cloak, Adair stretched his body free of the slight stiffness from the night and walked quietly out to the entrance. As he’d suspected, it was a rare morning, gloriously sunny and bright. He shaded his eyes from the glare, as the rays of sun reflected off the snow that encrusted the Lost Valley. Above him, the cloudless sky glowed a rich and luminous blue. It was a sight he had never seen before, and it took him by surprise. The sun alone was incredibly unique for him. He was much more used to clouds than sunlight, but to be standing high up on the side of a mountain looking out at this amazing scene was beyond anything he had ever known.
In the meantime, Erin had awakened. He too noticed the sunbeams ricocheting off the rock walls. He’d also caught a glimpse of the back of Adair’s foot as his young friend had rounded the corner towards the entrance. Erin made up his mind to get up and take in the morning light as well. Inching himself slowly to his feet, he placed his right hand against the rock wall for support and carefully made his way out to where his young scribe was standing. He, too, covered his eyes from the strong and brilliant light, then let go of the wall and shuffled his way over to Adair, grasping his shoulder.
Adair, being engrossed in the view, was startled by Erin’s touch. He jumped, scaring both of them, causing Erin to lose his balance. Adair grabbed him before he could fall, and the two stood laughing quietly as they hung on to each other.
Erin then looked up at Adair and asked, “Well, young friend, what do you think of the Cave of Dreams?”
Adair could not seem to find the words for a moment and then said, “Nae much tae say except...aam glad Ah cam wi’ ye.”
“Aye, I’m glad you came, too, friend,” Erin said with obvious honesty.
From down the valley, it would have been an unusual sight to see the two of them standing together. Adair was the youthful, tall, thin, and strong one. He had striking long black hair that was braided and hung down to his shoulders, with eyes to match–sparkling with energy and intelligence. The other, his ancient teacher, was a much shorter and portly figure. He was slumped over, standing next to his student grasping his arm for support. His head, not quite reaching Adair’s shoulder, was mostly without hair; what strands were left were completely white and stuck out at various angles, giving him an unkempt, almost feral, appearance. His skin was loose, pallid and drawn, especially around his wrinkled face, but his arms and hands still contained considerable strength, well beyond his eighty years. Then there were those eyes of his. They were piercing and strikingly emerald green, almost matching the spring grass in the glens. His commanding essence was held deep within them, and when Adair looked into Erin’s eyes, he could never imagine that spark dying away.
Then the two of them, without a word, glanced at each other and nodded. It was time to eat something and for Adair to finish his preparations to return home.
Erin asked, “Lad, are ye ready?”
“Aye.”
Once back in the cave, Adair set about feeding both of them. He heated water for tea and laid out the remainder of the aged cheese and bread. There was also enough mulled wine left for each of them to have a cup. It would fortify them for the day ahead.
After eating, Adair continued his work, gathering together all the food he had collected and caught for his old friend. Erin stopped him a moment and said, “Adair, you need to take most of the food. You’ll be needing it for the return trip, and you know I will be eating very little while you’re gone.”
Adair nodded but replied, “Ah ken master, but Ah hae tae leave ye some jist in case.”
He then stockpiled all the food that Erin would accept near the entrance to the cave in a shallow pit, where it would remain cold enough to preserve the contents for a time. He covered it with a heavy rock and made sure that there were enough flasks of water on hand. He also gathered more peat from a nearby area and finished packing. When everything was complete, he had Erin walk with him back out into the sunshine, where they sat at the lip of the cave, talking.
“Ur ye sure abit thes, Erin?”
Erin, hearing the question, continued to stare out across the valley and answered in a quiet voice, “Aye, m’ boy. It’s exactly what I need to do. And don’t worry. I’ll be here when ye get back. We’ll have a lot of work to do. Don’t forget to bring the parchment, writing tools, and more food. I’ll be ready to eat a whole cow by then, ye ken!”
Adair laughed and said, “Aye, yoo’d better be!” as Erin tousled his hair and gave him a big grin.
Finally, when they had said everything there was to say, and the young scribe had no questions left to ask, he grabbed his satchel, slung it onto his back, and stood for a moment more. Erin understood his hesitation and gave his young scribe a bear hug, which Adair gladly returned. They stood for a little while longer, patting each other on the back, and then Adair let go and began walking back down the valley.
He didn’t get far before he paused and reached up to wipe away a tear. He turned his head to glance back towards his old friend and waved goodbye. Erin nodded and smiled, hoping that he would be alive to see Adair again when he returned.
Erin remained at the cave’s entrance, watching the tall, strong form of his young scribe diminish in size as he moved farther and farther into the distance, finally disappearing into the sunshine and melting snow of the valley floor.
