The Adventure in Skye

On the same eve, Eric confided his sprioc deiridh to Albert. Albert was full of fear at what Eraich told him his quest engoaled.

He said to Eric, "No, brother. It is a sure road to death which you take. The butcher of the griffons kills all who approach him, and he cooks their bones in a roaring fire, and he uses such capall as we for his stew. It is folly to challenge him to combat. Why not stay here with Clan Norhest and prepare to fight him when he comes to us?"

Eric shook his head, and he told Albert, "What then, when he arrives at our doorstep? Will he be any less fearsome with the armies of the Griffons at his flanks? Will he be less of a butcher with axe swung at our heads and with his talons in our eyes? Will he be any less of a tyrant when his beaks have torn out the throats of our fillies and our mares? No, he must be stopped, or else he will become not merely a butcher, but a king of many butchers."

Albert, reluctant, agreed to his friend's pronouncement, but he said to him, "Do not attempt to fight the butcher as you be. You cannot defeat him now." Eric wondered whether he could ever be ready. Albert thought, and at the thought that found him, he laughed in triumph.

He suggested to Eric that the great warriors of Skye teach him. Eric knew not of the lands of Skye, so Albert described the ponies there. He described them as fierce warriors of the highlands -- not so fiery as the connachtae and not so flinty as the ulstrae, the stallions and mares of Skye were proud and free.

They valued themselves not as communities like Eric's people or as authorities like Albert's, but as individuals. As such, they were the fiercest warriors in single combat that ever walked the land. Albert reasoned with Eric that on his travels northward, he must first stop in the lands of Skye anyway, before he can travel onward to the grey peaks of the Griffons.

Eric agreed to this advice, though he knew nothing of the Highlands of Skye and was only cursorily familiar with the Vale of Ulster not long before. He and Albert took the confidence of Captain Flagheah, who agreed that the Skye-ponies would be excellent teachers of Eric. To aid in his lochragh oireach, the captain wrote a letter, detailing the great services Eric had performed in the service of Clan Norhest and his worthy Thane Norhest -- soon to be Earl Norhest -- and a recommendation for the provision of a journey to the lands of Skye.

Eric made a request then for a recommendation also to be written for his comrade Albert, which Captain Flagheah granted. He asked that Albert be promoted to an officer's rank, since he could think of no more deserving a fellow in the fiefban.

The captain wrote out both letters and let the friends return to Bromachbaile.

The two reached Bromachbaile within the day, and council was given by the court of Thane Norhest. He read their letters and, in most hearty thanks, gave each brave stallion applause. He said to them, "Verily, you have bitten your steel, and now you have served what you promised. Therefore, Sir Eric of Bragn, I release you from your contract and dub you a favored peer of the House of Norhest. May Ciollus ever watch over you in your lochragh oireach."

He said to his nephew Albert that he too was deserving of the promotion, and he granted him the title of Captain of the Earl-guard and the peerage of flaith in Clan Norhest. Owen said, "You have proven yourself a fine warrior, cousin, and you shall be ready for your thanedom, which I foretell shall come. The wisdom inherent in the derbfine has not yet failed Clan Norhest."

Albert and Eric thanked the noble Thane Norhest, who made declared that the proceedings ought be made as follows: 150 gold bits should be ready for his departure, a silver dagger bearing the heraldry of Clan Norhest should be given to Sire Eric as memento of his friendship, all food and wine for the journey to Skye should be packed, and a special letter of passage be signed with his name, so as to grant the protection of Owen Norhest to his travels.

All was prepared as the Thane enlisted, ready for Sire Eric to begin his journey on the following morn.

Albert and Eric celebrated the night before with stout beer and beautiful fillies, but they confessed sorrow at their parting of ways. Albert spoke concern that Eric would, in spite of all his tribulations and preparation, not return from his lochragh oireach and be slain by the griffon.

Eric assured Albert that he would not fail in his sprioc deiridh. Both agreed that the days would feel worse for the loss of the other's company.

Eric swore that, should he slay the griffon Brandhard and fulfill his sprioc deiridh, without delay he would return through Bromachbaile, and that they would rejoice the griffon's death together.

Albert made a toast to their fortunes and boldly said that for all the griffons cared for their mutton, they were yet fonder of their ewes. Many laughed, as no griffon yet held the high esteem of a capall.

This would not be the last time their paths crossed, but that is not the tale now.

On the morn of departure, Sir Eric of Bragn left by the north gate of Bromachbaile on the road to Skye. A mournful departure he made with Sir Albert then, he now took the north road alone.

He knew not the feeling of solitude on the roads of Ulster till then. This was an especially solemn one, as trees make grave and silent companions.

Eric passed Mullaghbrack, ruled by Thane Keady.
And he passed Tynan, ruled by Thane Killigan.
And he passed Creggan, ruled by Thane Ban, the last town which was of the Ulster vale.
At this time he came to the edge of the lands of Ulster, and Eric began to see the nature of the highlands of Skye.

The woods became less dense, until they finally fully stopped at the feet of the highlands. The thick spruce and pine gave way to open fields of mountain grass and flowers, with patches of red mosses and yellow ferns, and with a stand of mountain alder every so often.

The land sloped upwards steeply, and when Eric came out of the forested Vale, he came face-to-face with the steep sides of the Highlands looming before him. The road was no longer paved in gravel, but instead it was narrow dirt paths lined with stones which wound back and forth to reach the hilltops of Skye.

In Skye, Eric passed villages such as Burnmuir, ruled by Thane McMillan, and Auch, ruled by Thane McRoss.

He came to the relatively level part of Skye, the Langbrae, and he could see from a vantage on the road, a great many lochs and meres, dotted by villages and small forests, replete with snowed peaks of the mountains framing the scene.

Beyond the green highlands of Skye, he could see the foreboding range of snowy spires which signaled his approach toward the Griffon Kingdom. It was much closer now to him, and it reminded him of the magnitude of his task.

In Skye, he yet passed the towns of Cairnnard and Inchbreck, ruled both of them by the Clan McLeod. He sought there the blessings of the Thanes for his quest, but he found none willing.

The guards of the Clan McLeod ridiculed Eraich for his connaghta accent and his olster dress, and they mocked him for his sprioc deiridh. How can a puny colt such as he, a southerner through and through, hope to ever defeat the Butcher of the North? They laughed and told him to roll back downhill to his home before Brandhard rolls his head for him.

Sir Eric was not pleased by these happenings, but he continued unfazed through the lands of Skye until he came near the northern border with the Griffon Kingdom, and he stopped in the town of Drumkirk, ruled by Thane McColm. He spent the day asking for somepony who might teach him the ways of the warriors of Skye, but not one heeded him.

One Skye mare, however, took an interest in his request. She declined his request based her own ability to train him, as she was a mere tradesmare, but she asked him perhaps if he had tried the McDowells of the city Irvine. He submitted that he had not and inquired about the McDowells.

She said to him, "The McDowells are the clan that rule Irvine and the mountain of Cairndarroch. They are the fiercest warriors in all of Skye, and they have no fear of pony, beast, or demon. Speak to the Thane of Irvine, and you will be granted your requests." Eraich profusely thanked the mare for her counsel. He left at once for Irvine, which was situated high up on the slopes of Mount Cairndarroch, so far that the summer snow nearly reached the eastern gates of the town.

In Irvine, Eric sought the audience of the Thane. When he was granted such audience, he was shocked to see that the Thane of Irvine was a mare, whose name was Davina McDowell. He confessed this surprise to the Thane, and she laughed, "An ea? What, fair-haired connaghta, you have not seen a Thane who was also a mare? For truth, it seems that tales of fiery Connacht fillies are not so true as rumor tells."

Eric responded, "No, my wise Thane, the rumors are more true than you could believe! It is only that our fillies are rarely taken with thanedom."

Thane McDowell explained that for Irvine, it was tradition to only have female thanes, but it was also encouraged for the other towns under the rule of Clan McDowell. She said that they thought that, while males were the mightier warriors, it was better for a mare to act as the ruler. Few other clans practiced this particular tradition, she said, but it was still not uncommon for clans in Skye to employ mares as their best thanes.

Eric said that perhaps this was a wiser course than to the Connacht way of having solely male rulers, but Davina declined. She said that likely the character of Connacht fillies was that they refused the trappings of the thanedom on purpose. The mares who became thanes could only do so because of the character of the capall in Skye, male and female. As for Ulster, she mocked, no mare would ever wish to become the thane of such a narrow-minded lot, as she would be beset at every decision by the hard-headed Ulster colts.

Thane McDowell said, "Truly no more stubborn males exist than the Ulster lot, outside of Kilgore and Drummond." Eraich asked the Thane who Kilgore and Drummond were, for he had never heard their names before.

"Kilgore McDuncan and Drummond McStuart," she snarled. "They are two terrible brutes of stallions. They waylay my clansponies for their valuables, and they steal sheep from the herders. They make drunken messes when they come into town and start ol sairts a bourach. Clan Gregor backs them, so I kinnee give the word to the guards to arrest them or to put them down. When I seek audience with them, they either mock me behind my back, or they come to court to mock me to my face."

She confessed that her wits were nearly at an end, and that meant something, she told him, because there is no end to the wits of the mares of Skye.

Sir Eric sympathetically related his own troubles, and she took great interest in his sprioc deiridh. She listened intently to his descriptions of the trials he overcame so far during his lochragh oireach, and when he came to his request for the blessing he would hope to receive from a clan of Skye, Davina McDowell clapped her hooves together and told him there would be no need to continue, as she was already fully behind his quest. Verily, she told him, she detested the griffons and their plundering ways. She also greatly feared what horrors the Butcher would visit upon her ponies, their lands located so close to the Griffon Kingdom.

Thane McDowell told Eric that not only were her clan's properties at his disposal, but that she would also personally provide for his training. Sir Eric thanked her greatly for the honor, but she again declined his thanks, saying that she would be more deserving of his thanks upon his safe return from slaying Brandhard the butcher.

She gave him a full stay in the Clan McDowell great hall, and she recommended that he sleep well and seek out her beloved nephew for the training as soon as he pleased. Eric thanked her, and to sleep he went, feeling the cool, invigorating breath of the summer Skye winds in his head.

The nephew whom Davina McDowell spoke of introduced himself to Sir Eric. His name was Madog McDowell, and he explained with pride that he was known far and wide as the most savage highland warrior in all Skye. He sported a wild, matted black mane and equally wild eyes, but he enjoyed Eric's company and spent a week teaching him about the ways of Skye and its proud fighters.

He gave advice about how the warriors of Skye fought not as companies, nor as militias, but as small bands of individuals. Each warrior had to be a great warrior capable of holding his own with no less than a bear, or else he must not take up the sword at all and should instead return to the hearth and be a family stallion. In Skye, anypony could try to be a warrior, but not anypony could be a great warrior.

His first point of advice was that a land had character. Madog explained that no soldier fared equally well on all footings, so long as he did not practice on all footings. Uphill, downhill, on level ground, by the mere, at the foot, on the peak, and across the slope, a brilliant warrior must know all. Being weak on any particular footing meant that in a situation where such footing was unavoidable, death would be certain.

Death must never be certain for a warrior, Madog explained, or none would fight.

His second point of advice was to use not only the land to his advantage, but also to use the enemy to his advantage. Madog told Eric that each enemy had its own character. To defeat a wildpony, you must know how the wildpony makes use of the forests. To defeat a mountainpony, you must know how the mountainpony makes use of his slopes. To defeat a lochpony, you must know how the lochpony makes use of the shoreline.

In this case, Madog said, you will have to know how the griffon Brandhard makes use of the peaks, as his lair is the Hall of Sigur in the griffon stronghold of Stainfell, which sits ravenly atop Mount Hjalmur.

His third point of advice was for Eric to never underestimate the enemy and to never underestimate himself. The enemy becomes always a powerful foe should you for one second think him not. The enemy gains strength from a lack of respect for his abilities, and then he shall surely win. As well, you are never so weak as you think. The warrior gains strength from a healthy respect from his own abilities, and then you shall surely win.

Madog and Eric trained on the open slopes of Cairndarroch for a fortnight. By day they practiced, and they drilled, and they hiked on the braes, and in the evening they ate with the court of Thane Devina at the great table in the Feast Hall. They slept well in the night, and by morning both were early enough on the mountain to wake the bullfinches.

On the eve of the last day of the month of Bealtaine, Sir Madog and Sire Eric trudged up the road to the gates of Irvine. They had suffered a long day of training and eagerly awaited the warmth and comfort of the Feast Hall.

All at once, though, a figure galloped towards them and called out, stumbling on the rocky outcrops but not ceasing its shouting or frenzied movement. In the evening dim, Eraich could not see the figure who called out so loudly to them, but Madog McDowell said, "Great Epona, it is Luag McFarlan. What news of village Turriff do you bring?"

The figure came into the light of their torches, and they could see by his face that no good news could he relate. He wailed, "Sorrow, cousin Madog! Great sorrow, and more to come, if we are nee rescued."

What sorrow has befallen Turriff, they asked. Luag said, "Only the sorrow a demon could bring! We are being slaughtered by a Tachbealan!" At this, Madog became pale, and he told Luag to quickly rouse the guards of Caindarroch, but that he and Eraich would venture ahead to distract the demon. He agreed, and the three crossed in their paths.

Eric galloped to match Madog's pace. He asked what the Tachbealan was. Madog said to him, "The Tachbealan is a demon, one which was the vengeful spirit of a murdered foal. It is a great monster with a powerful body and an insatiable appetite for the flesh of capall. They are a rarity, but they may devour an entire village in a single night. It takes an army to destroy the foul thing." By the voice which Madog spoke, there was no levity to be found in his words.

They came to the village of Turriff. The lights were all dark, and by the light of their torches they could see no presence in the town. Madog remarked that this was strange, and that perhaps the monster awaited in one of the buildings. They continued to find the common hall in Turriff, with blood staining the stone steps and the door knocked open.

Madog exclaimed, "Aha! So the beast is made its lair within the common hall. Be warned foul demon, o murderous Tachbealan. I, Madog McDowell, will end your bloody terror as now I live and breath!" With that he charged into the hall, and Eric followed him.

Behind them the doors were slammed shut, and both were knocked to the ground. While so prostrate upon the floor, they became shocked at the sight of two burly stallions standing over them. Madog recognized them as the scoundrels Kilgore McDuncan and Drummond McStuart, and he demanded to know how they defeated the Tachbealan.

The two gave loud laughs, and the one named Kilgore said, "You are nee so sharp, Madog, brave though you behave. There is nee Tachbealan."

Madog was too astounded at the trickery to speak. Eric gritted his teeth and asked what they wanted.

The one named Drummond smiled, and he said, "We want your heads on pikes, my friend. It shall be the perfect warning of what will come if Thane Devina McDowell ever threatens us again. None shall oppose us, so long as we have cowed the Thane and so long as we have the backing of Clan Gregor. The lands are ours to plunder, burn, or rule as we see fit."

Eric grimaced, "Aye, but you'll have to kill us for that. And we don't intend on dying." Kilgore drew his longsword, and Drummond readied his axe.

They said to him, "Intended or nee, it's what's coming to you."

Drummond made the first move, a slicing axe chop to Madog's head. Madog rolled across the floor out of the path of the axe, and he righted onto his hooves. He drew his sword and dared Drummond to come at him again, "Go ifreann leat!"

Eric did not wait for Kilgore to swing. He first footed steady, before drawing his Ulster dagger and slashing at Kilgore's flank. He drew blood, and Kilgore howled.

Drummond pulled his axe from the floor and readied it for a blow. Madog took the next swing, to cut Drummond's head. Drummond dodged the blow and thwacked the axe handle against Madog's chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Kilgore made an overswing, which Eric blocked, but it was such a heavy blow, it took all his strength to keep the blade away from his head. Kilgore shoved his shoulder against Eric, which forced him to step backwards to avoid the arc of Kilgore's second swing.

Drummond swung his axe in two tight arcs, pushing Madog back into a corner of the common hall. He feigned a swing from the left, which Madog went to block, and instead banged Madog's face with the butt of the axe handle. Madog staggered back into the corner, where he struggled to stay on his hooves.

Eric saw that Madog was losing his fight, and soon the two stallions would team up on himself next. He had to find a way to turn the fight around. He spied an abandoned pike leaned against the far wall, left by a village guard.

Kilgore was looking for an opening, so Eric gave him one. He went for a lunge, but purposefully missed Kilgore and leaving himself with an exposed flank.

Kilgore took the opportunity and thrusted his sword at Eric's exposed side. Eric, however, was not in fact off-balance, but spun around to face Kilgore's own exposed side, and he stabbed Kilgore right through the ribs.

Kilgore howled in pain, as the sword had penetrated right through his torso, but it had not given him the instant death of a blow to the heart.

He squirmed around for a minute before bleeding out and his head *thunk'd* against the wood floor of the common hall.

Since retrieving the sword would take too long, Eric went for the pike on the wall, pulling it off and charging to aid Madog.

Drummond belatedly realized that his companion had fallen and reoriented himself, but before he could move, Eric rammed the pike through Drummond's neck. He choked on the weapon, and the blood spewed profusely out.

With desperate gasps fading out into soft gurgles, Drummond's life left him.

Eric pushed Madog back up onto his feet after sitting down from the sheer stress of their encounter. Madog surveyed the carnage, and he complimented Eraich, "Ach aye, but it seems you've made a fiercer and more prudent warrior than I."

Eric shrugged and said, "Fiercer, I wouldn't count on. On a battlefield, seeing them coming, you would have easily bested the both of them."

Madog disagreed, "Nee, I've told you befair, a warrior must be ready at all times, or else he is nee so good as a mere peasant with a sharp stick." He stood by himself, now able to stay steady. He walked over to Drummond and bucked him in the face as extra insult.

Eric removed his sword from Kilgore's ribs, and he wiped it clean on the dead stallion's mane, giving his own personal insult as well.

He surveyed the scene, and he joked to Madog, "For this, Devina will probably renounce her thanedom and pronounce us Earls of the Langbrae."

Madog countered, "For this? Ha! Devina would give you her hoof in marriage for this slaying!"

Both had a good hearty laugh over this, and they left the common hall with the corpses of the two stallions lying therein. Such was how Eric and Madog defeated the brutish rogues called Kilgore and Drummond.