Chapter 1: THE TREE OF ANU
Eastland fell, for the people who belonged to it were starving. Disease fogged the landscape, and their home grew to be dry and desolate. The wise chieftain spoke to Beltain, the great fire god. The proclaimer of the works of success and science. “Bring us an abundance of fruits lord, for your people are dying.” Beltain saw such sadness for the people who worshipped him; he answered the helpless chieftain’s plea by calling to Anu, queen of fertility of the earth and spirit. A healer of the soul to protect his people, to give life to the soil. “I ask you, woman of this land. To help my children, to protect them in your sheltered garden of Eden, for I cannot as I am from the sky. Their soil is tainted by the blood spilt wars from the east, and so it will not grow pastures. The rivers carry the forgotten souls that had fought bravely, and so their fish have gone. Their homeland is barren and lost, give need.” Her hair as black as raven, her eyes as green as the greenest leaf, she unraveled from the earth and glanced up towards the sun and simply gave Beltaine a simple bow, for she loved the god from the sun. Beltain embellished her lands with warmth and guarded it against storms. Silk wrapped around her bone-sculpted collarbone, slung around her naked hip which then loosely hung to her pale white feet. “These humans have taken the land and torn it up from the roots. The blood that they have spilt, are but from their own hand. I see only destruction and war for their future.” Anu peered into the distance. “A glimmer of hope perhaps through the many years, even then that I speak, can be lost so easily. But only for you my sire, my love. They will go to the west, my most beautiful land. It will never dry. I will give the earth the last of my soul to enrich the soil. The mortals will learn to use it to expand their greatness down through generations, and they will praise you, for that you will live long.”
Beltain blew down a warm kiss before the lady of the land diminished into the earth, out of sight and right into the dreams where the chieftain slept. “You will find my garden through the mountains, and it will lay beside a river.” Then the queen Anu plucked a single strand from her silk strewn ebony hair, lent down and placed it downwards while she held it between her delicate fingers. The strand curved like a snake and snapped into the earth. Feathered tips of grass lifted up to just a few inches, before running along to a short distance then stopped dead just a few strides from a river. A single shoot popped out of the soil. The tiny buds at the end of its arms opened out and revealed small green leaves. The higher the plant stretched, the thicker the bottom grew. The stems turned into branches while the stalk transformed into a rickered bark. Finally revealing a megalithic tree which outgrew every other of its neighboring sisters. The trunk was a rich earth-brown, and the leaves were of sea green, nothing like the chieftain had ever seen before. The beautiful lady of woven silk simply smiled at the wondered chieftain, ran towards the youthful tree and dived with her arms up passed her head towards the bark, which then immediately cracked from the middle to reveal a casm.
The zigzagged split climbed all the way up to where the branches began. Anu quickly and effortlessly vanished into the casm before the two barked sides came in on each other. But the crack through the bark did not entirely heal. And so it would be, the tired and weary souls still clinging on to their bodies, left their hopeless land. Headed to the west and passed the mountain to which the merciless Queen Anu had spoken. After many days travelling they had finally heard the ringing of the bell’s tune, it was the sound of concur, the sound of salvation. The bells rang from a man on horseback riding down the side of the caravan of dreary people, gathering up a weakened cheer from them. Ahead was the wise old chieftain, he had one hand on a tree that sat beside a calm stream and the other hand pointed above to the top branches that danced with the soft breeze. They had arrived at their given land. Fearing travelers would steal their land from them, the people settled up a steep hill from Anu’s tree to keep watch from threats. Lavished fruit berry bushes, golden corn and small lakes of plentiful rainbow colored fish were their neighbors. Beasts of the forest brought feasts and sacrifices through the night, giving strength to the men to build sturdy huts. No more draught, tears had been lost to the desolate plains that were no more. The west prospered, and the people gave their ceremonies to their sire, hail Beltain and honoured Anu. Hoping that their call would somewhere reach them, and that their belief that they held, was enough to keep the Gods alive.
The Goddess Catha reached down from her kingdom and bestowed upon them the cauldron of life, for she saw how her sister Anu had given a part of herself and now she is looked upon to be beautiful and almighty despite her suicide. Perhaps it was not too late for her to be preserved for longer through their praise. Though it was not to be, she was jealous of Anu. Catha didn’t understand how to bring about the element of freedom within herself as she could. Catha filled her life with possession and rules that were always in her favour, building them high and creating her own prison. Her lands were of slavery and gluttony. The cauldron was not of a kind gift but an exchange for mortal belief for her own absolution. “For thirty cycles and three moons you may use its wonder.” Catha had told the healers of the tribe. “The cauldron will mend childless woman, heal the broken on battlefields. It is the giver of life, praise me.” To which the people humbly agreed for some while, and all went on as it should.
Time flows easier in happiness, and so it passed without delay. Children grew to be warriors of great strides, and the mothers were even at times more formidable. Tall and muscular were now the men from the west. Hair as yellow as the god Beltain himself, eyes as green as that of Queen Anu. The cauldron had now been taken back and what was left, a powerful tribe. They were known as, The Celts. Prosperity blossomed, and so did trade. Through their precious fresh waters that flowed towards Greek borders, strong boats were assembled from timber and headed for their treasured goal. Slaves were occasionally sold for the benefit of their people. The new masters of the Far East made them work and traded great treasures for these tireless workers. They fed them well and supplied beds and clothing. Celtic items were traded for Grecian pottery, iron and animals. But deep in the realm of the warlord, Balor was restless. He was the god of war, fight and concur. The use of him through the people beyond the mountain began to fade, as so did his strength. The great and strong giant slammed down his battle axe in a deafening blow with outrage. He had guarded their side through battle for a thousand years, and now he is to them but a mere acknowledgement of existence. The giant of muscle and power tore through the portals with his hammer, joining them on to the battlefields and destroying many great beasts. He would strike down tens of men in a single blow. Oh, how they praised him and how he relished his success. Proud and powerful he was and yet now, just a shadow of his former self. He devised a plot for war, for he didn’t belong to anything but this. Balor set forth to the kingdom of the warrior princess Macha; she was the guardian of heroes and a healer to their wounds. She would fly down as a crow to the brave fighters she found and favoured, loved and laid with and warn them if there were to be grim news during battle. Balor approached her.
A beautiful muscular fighter stood proudly in her throne room. Straps of thick leather and silk of blues clung firmly to her warrior’s body. Flaming hair of burnt oranges and reds whisked like fallen fire that had frozen over her shoulders and down her back. War souvenirs hung from her mighty ceiling, skulls of bloody crusades that were only to be found beyond the stars. Balor stood strong at the bottom of the grey marble steps that lead to her throne chair. His hatred for mankind grew slowly and snidely and hidden in his abyss, where the warmth and tears had never offered their presence; weaving vast distances as if it were from a snake in its habitat where it was at its strongest. Macha knew of this, though she did not care to infect her thoughts with his intangible evil. Empty invites of broken promises were always the whispers that came from the seed of the abyss, his abyss. She did not know him and did not trust him; for she did once, long ago.
“They have forgotten us, sister. Fight now with me to take back our rightful place”. He boldly asked, while clenching his fists, the size of boulders tightly enough till his knuckles gave way to a stream of white. “The mortals are taking on beliefs of new gods. You know it to be true. Smash down these invaders, and we shall be victorious once more. As a warrior she was, she dismissed his wish, she would not join. Macha was yes, a powerful warrior Goddess, and yes she thrived in battle, but only for the sole purpose of peace and protection to her people, man and womankind, she loved them dearly and hoped that one day they would learn to be at peace with each other. Mortals they were and magic most did not possess, but she believed that they had a light from within, something she saw the Gods did not acquire. “Transient guests are all creatures of time, be them mortal or godlike; it is the will of the universe and the circle of the wheel of souls.” Balor knew that Macha was a powerful ally to have and not having her on battle would be a great loss, so he proceeded to encouraged her to join. “Macha, there have been deities that have lived far longer than us, hundreds of thousands of years!” He roared. “All I say to you is sister, will you not fight with us and strike down these Christians that have taken our people. Will you not come forth for your people and be their queen? Will you be forsaken and give up everything?!” Macha indeed felt sad; she had never seen Balor beg before. She knew he found it difficult in letting go of this life, he was so strong and proud. But that was what also changed him through the years. He would fight for his people, against the beings that lived among the stars, always hungry and always the need to eat beyond their fill. Now it was only for his glory. “It is with all of us that we must end. To leave these realms and travel further to where ever that may be. We cannot fight it, my friend. Even the Olympians think that they will be forever. But the universe speaks to whom will listen, I hear it. It speaks to me. Our gift is what we leave behind, just as the great Watch Towers did.” Macha turned and calmly sat on her chamber chair, as if awaiting the end in dignity. Furious Balor roared through the hollow ceilings before thundering out. Not admitting defeat, he prepared for revenge.
Pacing out of her temple, he stopped at the edge of the white cliffs which lead to greenery at its bottom. Trees of mauve leaves and grey wood held newly blossomed shiny black beads at the ends of it’s branches, holding some kind of life form from inside, a tadpole it would seem. Balor laid his rest on the hundreds of mortal souls sewing her fields and dancing in the sun while listening to the birds of the sky. Children dressed in rich embroidered threads minded Macha’s herd of wild water kelpie. The Kelpie was often mischievously murderous, taking on forms that the unknowing victim desired most. Mainly as beautiful maidens, humming their tranquil song, drawing their guest into the lakes and rivers. The moment they were touched, the skin and bones would melt and stick fast, while the kelpie would drag them screaming into the water to drown them. The bottom dwelling fish would not be left with much more than a few skin flakes, withering into the weeds below. But the kelpie enjoyed the company of these mortals, for the mortals had already left their shells behind and so, their terrible hunger was subsided.
Macha admired the hunter and the hunted; she understood the balance of life no matter what their predatory strategies were. The law of the universe regards itself to all creation, no matter how the shell is formed. Life thrives in many atmospheric conditions, and so it is in this condition that gives the species the power it needs to thrive to its purpose. If somehow the path for them had been closed off, and if the soul inside were to be open and linked to the universe, magic could then be awakened from within them and even on occasion, life could be preserved for much longer. All for the sake of fulfilling your purpose. Balor did not want to understand this. A human was insignificant to him. I suppose ignorance was on his side. The mighty Balor bow down and give up his life just as a human, or like any other low insignificant creature? Not him. The mere humans have a say in what Deity should live or die, just by their will? He hated them.
Balor stood proudly just outside her temple. It was situated on the tallest mountain among hundreds of others peaking just below. Birds of blue flamed birds filled her lush vineyards and fluttered around creatures that were of armoured skin. These surely were sacrifices from other planets and dimensions. The Macha was loved by many, and so gifts of wondrous beasts were plentiful in her kingdom that hung high above the mortal land of Eire. Surging with rage, Balor looked up. Huge snake-like creatures with wings like bats owned the skies here, and they were not to be meddled with, they too loved their Queen. Five circled Balor, inquisitive that he had not begun to enter his portal to leave. Balor tightened his grip on the handle of his axe, raising it high above while watching the flying serpents becoming agitated. “Not yet.” A voice spoke. Grunting like a wild beast himself, Balor sliced the air with his axe, creating a long black split that opened wide. The colours of the sky and ground as if made of cloth flapped in the warm breeze. Balor’s great stature disappeared through thin air, and her winged snakes went back to higher skies, guarding whatever it was that would enter through the heavens.
Balor sat on his fur chair that had antlers on either side of the top corners; both were the length of his arm. No creature on earth grew such horns. Balor was contemplating his uprising from his kingdom of Fomoria. Creatures laid across the floor, teeth like twigs of bone behind gaping mouths, eyes of coal and twisted limbs that carried their bodies fast. These were truly demonic wretched beings, solely to serve their master. He was tiresome of them, but they proved now to be somewhat useful. Only a few sacrifices from old tribes who remembered his glory days threw rituals in Balors honour. But it wasn’t enough to build his kingdom to greatness; he needed more. And that is exactly what his cretins did for him. Bringing souls from the mortal land by taking over the unfortunate victim’s body proved very useful, and indeed these creatures found it to be their specialty. They were born from the fears of men; treachery fed them, greed made them strong. These evil spirits had formed flesh through ancient times and could pass from the earth to the dimensions of the gods, clutching the souls of men. Where there is light, there is dark, and they will be until there is neither.
Balor felt a shudder through the floor, but not a sound, his herd of distorted bodies broke out into the corners of the darkly lit throne room. “Brother.” It spoke, echoing through the high ceiling. You see Balor had fought on many battles, on earth and across the ever reaching stars. Beasts of eyes that shone red with molten rock, and creatures of the sky that could tear the skin clean off them before they could even spout fire. One of his giant’s eyes was gouged out by a serpent from the sea who had cursed the empty hole to forever throw out poison. Balor eventually killed the serpent Riognar, and used its skin to cover his cursed eye. Though despite this, he thought it to be fortunate as it helped him destroy his enemies through battle. But of all monstrous demons, he had invoked in battling, there was only one that even for the great giant god himself held fear for, and it spoke again, “Brother.”
From the darkest corner and to where the Fomorian creatures were not found, came a man. “Macha dismissed you, I see”. A shallow glow of green glimmered from his eyes. He walked towards Balor with his arms crossed behind his back. Balor still sat on his egoistically decorated throne chair with furs of greys and browns, shot his head towards this unwelcome visitor. “What is your need?” Balor said while trying to peering down at him from his great height. “Brother, is this the greeting you give to me?” He said smirking towards the giant as his steps finally reached the bottom of Balors steps. “Arawn, what brings your visit to my kingdom” Balor repeating his welcome. King Arawn, lord of the spirit realms stood with bounds of dark leather, which was made from unworldly demons and metal forged from the corners of their galaxy. “The spirits who are entering my realm are becoming fewer as we all know, but still, Dagda will not allow concur of the mortal realms.”
Arawn slowly paced along the old cracked rock steps that were at the foot of Balor. “New gods have taken our people as you know, would he let us fade into nothing like the gods before us? Dagda has given us no choice.” Arawn warned. His prominent jawline and darkened handsome features, looked up from the floor and his eyes as green as ever met Balors. “Do you want to overthrow Dagda?” Balor said amusingly. Arawn raised his right hand, and Balor gargantuan head lifted slightly, a raw colour of dark red embellished his skin and dark purple veins protruded from where his course beard had ended on his throat. “Dagda.” He chocked. Holds power beyond any of us. Arawn walked away with heavy steps back towards the shadows from where he had come. The creatures dissipated once more, and Balors neck was released, falling his head onto his chest. “You have three days to make your decision” warned Arawn before he had gone into shadow.
Back on the land of mortals, the people were lavished in fruitful crops and strong animals that never faulted. Deities looked down and were pleased by the gifts of animals, treasure and young attractive tribesmen and women to take for their own into their realms. As years went by, some of the tribe-folk decided to leave their prosperous home and were spreading into vast areas of land. Despite having nearly everything they needed, some things were of more value. The trade brought adventure and love and what better adversary to leave their old gods? To live in misery with a broken heart, or to take on adventure to new lands.
