It was persistent, the rain pelting against the canopy of leaves with a loud patter. Heavy and continual, cold and harsh, it fell down sneaking through and soaking them all to the bone. They had been marching for days already, Réalta a distant memory.
Wrapping his raggedy brown cloak around him tighter, he tried to protect himself from the rain, but the drenched cloak in the searching wind did not provide much protection. Releasing a sigh of frustration and tapping his fingers against the side of the covered pole that rested against his shoulder, he tried to stave off the feelings of boredom that persisted in his mind. This was not the type of request that suited him, he was a warrior, a fighter, a man of blood and war. Not a glorified babysitter.
'By Lugh, this is dull.' The terrain had changed, gone from the gentle paved road of the Bóthar Anu that lead out from Réalta to the harsh, sleek mud road that led through the Foraois Shíoraí. 'Though I suppose I should count myself lucky that the wind has died down, at least for now. But I doubt it will be for long, a storm like this is usually not this short.'
This journey, as Cú had soon come to realise, was not going to be a quick one. The convoy itself was large, several carriages filled with chests containing dresses, gifts and whatever else was entirely unnecessary for this journey. Then there was full infantry Centain organised for this convoy, a hundred men personally selected by King Cathal and the leader of this journey, Earl Donnacha of the recently conquered territories of Sir Benfro. Each had been provided full plate armour, painted a dark silver in colour and outfitted with the best arms forged by the greatest blacksmiths in the Éire. However, they also had various servants, handmaidens and even two Druids accompanying them. It made for a very odd bunch of individuals and also one that wasn't used to marching long distances like this.
They set off from the Pálás an tSolais just as the sun had risen over the horizon, they had been lucky. A small break from the powerful storm that had struck, the wind dying down and the rain having come to a stop. Cú had spent the night prior in one of the nearby brothels and had awoken a little later than he was supposed to. Even then, their journey was delayed by the busy streets of Réalta. The market streets and residential areas near the palace where quiet and peaceful. But the further the caravan got towards the East Gate, the more it had been hindered by the busier streets.
Houses stacked upon one another, roads littered with mud and excrement. The closer one got to the outer edges of the city of Réalta, the more worn down the roads became. Buildings became higher and streets narrower in order to accommodate the population of the capital that was nearing three hundred thousand.
Cú had to force himself through the hordes of early risers, he didn't really know what people did this early in a morning. It was unnatural to him and was not happy to be waking up this early, especially when there was no fight to look forward to. The fact that his task of catching up with the caravan was delayed by the hordes of people had only worsened his mood.
A mood that had gotten progressively worse as the days passed by in a slow, eventless and tedious fashion. Going from the packed streets of Réalta to the wide open plains of rich, green grass. Out across the sea of yellow wheat, farmers moving to put protections in place to ensure the crops would not be destroyed by the arrival of the storm and the torrential rain.
Two days of open road as they passed through farmland before eventually entering the edges of the midlands of the Éire. At first, there wasn't a huge difference in their surroundings, the only thing of note being the gradually fewer patrols that passed them by until there were none remaining.
They were five days into their journey at this point. Beginning from the county Ros Comáin, passing through Uíbh Fhailí and halfway through Laoise when the world around them slowly began to change. With the war going on and their military power focused upon securing the border of their newly conquered territories in Cymru, there was a shortage of manpower in the Éire. As a result, what remained was focused purely upon the midlands ensuring that the royal capital in Ros Comáin was secure and safe.
'And in the process, left the rest of the Éire to fend for itself.' Cú could understand why of course, but the numerous burnt down villages and farms were a direct result of the rapidly rising banditry that had fallen upon the land.
They hadn't encountered any bandit forces though, the Bóthar Anu was one of the few roads that still remained patrolled throughout the Éire, even beyond the midlands. Bandits were a cowardly bunch, motivated only by greed and desire for money. While many of the Éire citizens had resorted to joining or forming their own bandit groups, looting and pillaging neighbouring villages and attacking convoys in order to feed their own families.
Cú had seen similar acts amongst soldiers on the few occasions in which they had been cut off from their supply lines and starvation set in. That led to desperation and in turn led to brothers turning against brothers, friend against friend. At the end of the day, men were all the same and so it was no wonder that despite scoring major victories in their campaign against the Cyrmu, that the Éire was upon the brink of a revolt because of the war and heavy taxation that had befallen on the common folk.
Eventually though, six days into their journey to the port town of Cuan Ros Láir in the county of Loch Garman, they turned off the Bóthar Anu and into the Foraois Shíoraí. It was hardly the most comfortably of journeys at this point considering the roots and large rocks that constantly crossed their paths. Often requiring them to stop to remove particularly large ones, especially a number of uprooted trees as a result of the harsh winds. The mud was especially boggy due to the heavy downpour of rain over the past few days.
It meant that they had to stop on many occasions which in turn, slowed their journey down. Meaning that he was sat tiredly upon the rear carriage trying desperately to stay awake, despite his eyes threatening to close every few minutes. It didn't help that the rocking of the carriage and the pattering of rain was making a hypnotic sound that was beginning to lull him to sleep.
"You know," his gaze tiredly flickering open, Cú looked to see a nobleman riding towards him. He was clad mostly in a dark blue robe, though he could see the armour and chainmail hidden underneath. On the side of his robe, a green outline surrounded a rose split into four, two sections diagonally across from one another red and the other white. "When I heard you would be joining us, I was quite surprised. You're notorious for being difficult to handle, even for King Cathal. What did he promise you?"
"My presence is meant to be kept secret, so I'll say it nicely, fuck off."
Donnacha laughed, his short brown hair damp and sticking to his forehead, white teeth appearing through his bushy beard. "You haven't changed in the slightest, still a hard bastard." Cú rose a brow in questioning, silently asking why he was still here. "Don't worry, I've told my son that I am simply here to see what kind of man his majesty hired to protect the Princess."
"You don't trust Cathal's decision?"
"King Cathal?" Donnacha corrected and Cú shrugged his shoulders dismissively. He had never cared much for fanciful titles, and it was one of the reasons he never fit in nor was liked by most of the nobility in Éire. "And I trust his majesty's decision, I just needed an excuse to come talk to an old friend without questions being raised as to who you are."
Cú scoffed. "Well, unless you've got booze, I'm not interested." Donnacha in response, reached down to his saddle, picking up an animal skin pouch and threw it toward Cú who reflexively caught it. He paused, looking at the pouch, shaking it slightly as he heard the liquid within slosh around before his lips twisted into a smirk. "I was ordered not to drink, y'know?"
"I'm aware," Donnacha replied quickly making the smirk on Cú's face widen.
"Look at you? Disobeying Cathal's orders? Never thought you had it in you." Donnacha chuckled, shaking his head as Cú took a long swing from the pouch.
"I don't." He answered. "I've fought alongside you enough times to know that alcohol doesn't dull your blade, instead it sharpens it. Something I'm quite envious of actually. Many a time I came across your camp, seeing you and your men drinking heavily throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning. Then, still drunk, head to battle."
The reminder of such times made Cú chuckle lightly. "The good old days, sadly they'll be behind us for a while. Hopefully not too long." His words made Donnacha shake his head in disbelief. "Honestly makes me wonder why Cathal ordered me to stop drinking, could be of great use if I'm drunk."
"Because your presence is not to be known about, preferably until we arrive at Seren. And when drunk, your blade may be sharp, but your lips are loose."
"True." Cú agreed. "I do like to talk."
There was no denying it, he did, it was a well-known fact and another reason why he was looked upon with disgust by the nobility. His heritage might also have something to do with it but Cú had never really cared nor did Cathal. So long as he was able to drink and fight to his heart's content then he was perfectly fine. It was why Cú liked the King, that man understood him, understood his simplicity and while openly discouraged his heavy drinking, behind closed doors encouraged it.
It was also why Cú despite being a Hero was rarely ever invited to war meetings nor provided much in the way of information on the battle plans. He was Cú Chulainn the Hound and there was no better way to describe him, every battle he was let loose of his leash and directed towards his enemies and that was the end of it. That arrangement suited many parties because there had been a few incidents early on in the campaign against the Cyrmy in which a spy that had infiltrated their camp had heard Cú's drunken explanations of their plans.
Those early battles had been costly and difficult.
'Fun times.' He thought to himself in amusement, chuckling lightly and as he raised the pouch to take another large gulp he paused, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the surroundings
Donnacha misunderstood the reasoning for his pause. "Trying to preserve it?" He asked and shook his head in amusement. "You don't have to, I've sent scouts ahead to find a suitable place to make camp. Once we get there I'll provide you with a full casket, should last you an hour or two though..."
"We're being followed," Cú told him and Donnacha took a moment to reply before he chuckled, shaking his head finding his words amusing.
"Have you just noticed? Perhaps your senses are dulling in your old age, old friend." Donnacha retorted, eyes once again tracking their surroundings. "We've had a few dozen watching our moves since we left the Bóthar Anu. But they won't do anything, this route was personally chosen by Princess Medb and approved by King Cathal. There is nothing to worry about upon this journey.
"I know that." Cú snapped out irritably, non plussed at having his skills targeted. "I've counted a total of sixty-two pairs of eyes. But their numbers have been increasing rapidly in the last few hours, especially further down the road. Almost like they're preparing to attack, I can feel it in my bones, my hearts beginning to pound in excitement. Honestly makes me wonder why King Cathal approved this journey through known bandit territory."
What with the war that had raged on for many years now, first the civil war and then the war against the Kingdom of Cyrmu had led to many of the commoners of the Éire being left worn down. The heavy taxation required to fund the army as well as the number of men and young boys being sent to war had resulted in many problems. Dozens of small scale rebellions with the number of bandit groups rapidly increasing throughout the land. Considering that the army of Éire was stationed in the annexed territories of Sir Benfro, these bandits had gone untouched besides those that had been foolish enough to enter into the midlands.
The heavy patrols there dealt with any bandit force they found and so, while the midlands was secure, the same could not be said for everywhere else. The shortage of manpower allowed bandits to move freely and untouched so long as they didn't enter into the midlands.
Donnacha hesitated, eyes narrowing further as he looked around him once more with increased scrutiny. "You're certain?" He questioned, body tensing.
"I can tell when a fight coming, and one's brewing."
"That hardly makes sense," Donnacha argued. "This route was chosen precisely because it took us through bandit territories that were too small or too smart to do something so stupid as to attack a royal caravan. Now you're telling me that we're about to come under attack."
"I'm just telling you what I can feel in my gut. We've got two Druids, they should be able to give us a hand and cast some spell or something like that, let us know how many of these cunts are out there." As he said that, Cú leaned back with a growing smirk, blood beginning to pump excitedly throughout his body, the cold of the rain and wind long since forgotten as the excitement at the possibility of a fight took a hold of him. 'Finally, something interesting might happen after all.'
Beside him, Donnacha gave a call and while the caravan continued its journey down the muddy road, two men road down towards them. They were clad in thick white robes that hung loosely around their bodies, there was no fanciful embroidery or anything of the sort decorating them. They were just plain, with a simple leather belt and a small knife sheathed within it. One was older than the other, possessing a bushy white beard and greying hair as he held a staff loosely in one hand, while the other was a younger man looking on the verge of entering adulthood. Yet he looked frail and skinny, weak.
"Lord Donnacha." The elder of the two greeted, both Druids bowing their heads towards the Earl of Sir Benfro.
"We're being followed." Cú intervened, cutting straight to the point. "Bandits."
"Ah yes, I had sensed their presence quite a while ago. I informed your son but he told us you were already aware of them and to not be worried. May I ask, has something changed?" As he spoke, the elder of the two Druids studied Cú with greater scrutiny than before and the Hero withheld the urge to roll his eyes. Druids, they were all the same, arrogant and yet acting like petulant children when they did not know the answer to something. 'I get more fun out of killing a single soldier that has no Magic, than a dozen Druids. At least most of them have the good sense to face me like a warrior knowing escape is impossible, Druids just cower in fear and beg for mercy when they realise their Magic doesn't mean shit.'
"Their numbers have been increasing. My friend here believes that they intend to attack and I would like to make sure of their numbers. If they do intend to attack, they will be gathering in mass and considering the state of the weather and the fog, we won't be able to tell until it's too late." Donnacha explained.
While the elder of the two remained silent, nodding his head and stroking his beard in thought, the younger of the two looked urgently down towards the front of the caravan. "What about the scouts you sent ahead earlier? Surely if they have not returned then they must be in danger!"
"Sorry to break it to you, kid, but if they're not back yet then they're already dead." Cú dismissively responded it was a fact of war that there would be casualties. But just one look at the kid told him that the young Druid hadn't even seen a man die let alone understand the brutality of war.
"Ardan." The young Druid looked to his master, a frown upon his face. "Use your Third Eye."
Ardan looked unsure, face twisting and Cú scoffed lightly, hiding it behind a cough. Though from the reproachful and annoyed gazes he received from Donnacha and the elder Druid respectively, he didn't do a very good job of it. Honestly, Cú didn't see the point of inviting Druids to join them on this mission, they held no loyalty to any King, they were cowards and believed themselves better than everyone purely because they were 'Blessed by Dagda' and therefore deserved to be respected and revered by all.
To Cú, it was far from the truth.
Even common folk, never trained to wield a weapon nor possessing much else other than tanned leather and chainmail to protect themselves were far more deserving of praise and respect. They were fearful, but they at least put up a fight if given enough reason to. But Druids, they strolled along, touting that their Magic would win the day, only to be defeated by the Champions of Morrígan, Heroes. Most of the time they didn't put up much of a fight, a few spells that had no effect and suddenly the Druids caved in, dropping to their knees and begging for mercy.
Cú had yet to meet a Druid deserving of his respect and from the looks of things, that wouldn't change any time soon either. 'I might as well just leave the caravan and deal with them myself. Cathal'll probably punish me for it but it'd be better than waiting for this kid to grow some fucking balls.'
"I don't know if it'll work," Ardan murmured further proving Cú's thoughts. "I've only just started to learn how to control my Magic and I...I don't think I can do it, master."
"Lefrich, I'm afraid I can't wait for your student to make a decision, not when the Princess' life is in danger. I need to know their numbers now." Donnacha demanded and Lefrich sighed, nodding his head in understanding, patting his apprentice, Arden upon the shoulder which slumped and head bowed in possible self-loathing? Cú couldn't care less, the boy needed to find some courage otherwise he'd be forever useless, best he got told that sooner rather than later by his master. Otherwise, the boy would never amount to anything in his life.
"I understand," Lefrich replied before gripping his staff in both hands, eyes closed in concentration as he blocked out all sound around him. It was aged, the wood smooth yet wrinkled, dark in colour. The top of it enlarged, almost as large as a spearhead, yet circular in shape. "Dominos Dagda, donum pro me ad visum, et vide quid est occulta." With every word he spoke, wisps of pale blue smoke swirled around the top of the staff, growing darker in colour and number. Then Lefrich opened his eyes, gone were his brown eyes and replaced with a sea of blue pulsing energy.
"What do you see," Donnacha asked as Lefrich scanned the surroundings, head-turning in all directions, pausing in some areas. But most noticeably, his body tensed up, eyes narrowing as he looked upon the road ahead.
"It is true, bandits," Lefrich answered, lowering his staff and eyes blinking, the glow subsiding. "I counted over a few hundred ahead of us. A few dozen behind us. We are walking into an ambush."
There was a pause before Donnacha nodded his head firmly, flicking the reins of his horse as he galloped down the caravan towards the front of it. The Druids following soon after, Lefrich sparing one glance back at Cú as he left, the man in question leaning back further into his seat with a sigh. 'A few hundred? And here I thought something interesting would actually happen. What a fucking disappointment.'