Blood Feud [COMPLETED]

CHAPTER THREE ☽

Tara gently lifted the skull to her face, her fingers nimbly tied the swine cord behind her head. When she was a child the mask terrified her adorning her father's face, as rí the skull was her ceremonial dress and people trembled before her. Wearing the elk skull made her uncomfortable, leaving her face marred with red marks for hours after an evening Call to session, not to mention the creak in her neck.

The antlers on her head got caught in the hallway. Again.

Tara, quick to ire, angled her body sideways to fit through. The more frustrated she became, the more she struggled, scratching the stone. She may be a queen but she had yet to control her anger, especially when it concerned herself.

The Counsel hall was packed, news of a foreign shipwreck had done the circles. Tara located her brothers — they were wearing antlers too — and the rest of their retinue.

Men chanted and banged their fists and feet on the ground and tables all the way up to the rafters. Tiny snotty-nosed children darted throughout the raucous crowd, nimbly weaving their way in between adults riled up to convene. A Call to session included every member of the Clann, regardless of age, so long as you could chant: call to session, call to session.

Despite the mask, the acrid smell of spilt cider soured and soaking the rugs assaulted her nose. It was early, but the drink had been flowing for a while.

Tara's eyebrows drew together, a pouted frown. The Counsel hall was crawling with Connacta inhabitants, jovial and excited for the reveal. She spotted far-flung relatives like great-aunt Dymphna, Hugh Eannas, little Jacky Pale and the Delgini twins, all with long journeys up to her fortified Keep. Their excitement and presence signalled something for concern for their young ruler, what did the guard find in the shipwreck? What was important enough to drag these relatives out of the woodwork?

Conn and Cuán broke off from their friends, advancing up to the raised limestone rock. The platform had been used as a ritual and convening stone for centuries, which is why they transported it to the new Great Hall decades ago. Rí Dorcha had cleaved the rock from the earth to dictate to his people, this was before he wed Tailtiú the earth goddess whose innate abilities would have helped the creation of a dais. A gargantuan piece of raw stone protruded from the ground, cut and shaped into a level surface with carved steps. It was crowned by a pinkish sandstone monolith-- a huge seat carved out of a single rock. The throne of the Connacta and seat of power in the West.

Conn leapt onto the rock, an unnerving grin paired with his elk skull and curling horns. Cuán was bored, casting a sharp eye around the perimeter.

"What did you find in the shipwreck?"

"Not what," Cuán grinned impishly, "Whom."

Her stomach dropped to her toes at his response, shocked at the prospect of foreigners arriving on their shores. Did they come from another part of Eire, or from the Northern Seas? Did they know of the Fair Folk?

The people of their island feared the Fair Folk as had been preserved for time immemorial. Should these marauders be local people, straying too far, they would be taken as hostages and executed.

A bloody law, but one that satiated the crowd as if it were a sport.

Tara's brain kicked into overdrive as the assembled crowds became increasingly rowdy, spurred on by drink. Only hostages, native or foreign, would arouse this much frenzy. This evening was no annual festival marked out on the Connacta calendar and so newcomers must have arrived, but how many?

"I better be ready, so. Captured men? I assume they will be joining us soon, that's why this place looks like the morning after Bealtaine, right?"

Conn's smile only deepened. "Or...You could just wait and see."