Son of the Shadows RK Style

Some yards away from the tents I take in the sight of the campfire. From the stories I was told by Enishi you would think that the Chief held a good sized army however the numbers of men he commands would not be seen as such. Though his men are more than efficient they are not powerful in the terms of numbers. There couldn’t be more that thirty men at the site. This is a good number for what he and his men have set off to do, however they could not front a campaign. My uncle has more guards stationed in a single village than the Chief has men. All in all, at first glance I would not see this troupe as an impressive threat.

Lightly placing a hand on my shoulder, Dog whispers in my ear encouragingly, “Don’t be intimidated by all the men. I assure you that they can be Gentlemen when they put their minds to it.”

Giving Dog a look in amusement I reply, “If not I’m sure you’ll be there to protect me.”

Flashing me a mischievous smile Dog retorts, “It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I did not.”

Not truly being alarmed by the large group of men I take a seat beside the fire. As I am taking in my surroundings a young man no more than a few years my senior hands me a bowl of stew and a mug of ale with a slight blush on his cheeks. Stifling my laughter I thank the man before taking the offered food. As horrible as it may be I can’t help but be entertained by the notion that a grown man would blush just being in the presence of a girl. I would expect such a reaction from a young lady but never a trained soldier!

“Evens win it.”

“It seems that you aren’t having much luck tonight,” Wolf states tauntingly.

“Watch who you are talking to,” Chief chides. “I could have your head for such insolence.”

“Whatever you say Chief,” Wolf retorts with a grin.

Glaring at Wolf with a look that would but a lesser man down in fear the Chief calmly utters, “I call evens.”

“Odds,” the crowd surrounding the table speak in unison. I would have laughed at the actions of the men if not for the annoyed look the Chief was sending those who spoke against his call.

The man handling the dice just shakes his head in amusement as he begins to roll the dice. I cannot see the table since there is a large crowd standing in my view however I have a feeling that I’ll know the result of the throw regardless.

“Odds have it,” the dealer proclaims while throwing the Chief a sympathetic look.

“Shit!” the Chief yells aloud. “That’s six games in a row that I haven’t gotten I single one correct.”

“Actually that’s ten sir,” I timid teen corrects with his head cast down.

“Okay ten,” the Chief states with a huff. “This really isn’t my lucky night.”

Putting a hand on Chief‘s shoulder Snake suggests, “Why don’t we do something else other than dice? I‘m sure someone else could find a way of entertaining us.”

Everyone stares at each other in confusion. I can’t help but become mortified at the thought that all these men know of entertainment is gambling. What sort of men are they?

Unable to hold my tongue I sharply reply, “Do none of you know of any games other than gambling? Where I come from we tell tales or perhaps in times when we are not in the mood we mingle with one another. You do not have to gather around a pair of dice to find amusement.”

“Is that so?” the Chief states with a wicked grin. “Care to bless us with a tale or two? That is if you have the talent.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” I retort in aggravation, “However I will tell a story if no one else wishes to share.”

In shock the men stare at the Chief as he takes a seat by the fire while giving me a quick nod of consent. What nerve this man has to act as if I need his blessing to tell a story if I so choose. The man has far too big an ego for his own good.

“Is there any particular story you wish to hear?” I question the crowd of men assembled around the fire. None utter a sound.

“I guess I’ll have to decide then.” Crossing my arms against my lap I add, “There are many tales fitting for a night such as this but somehow I doubt you want to hear a story about leprechauns, or sly foxes.” I direct my eyes towards the Chief. “I’m sure a tale of heroic feats and distant lands would sit better amongst you.”

With a ‘humph’ Chief inquires, “Are you trying to buy yourself time to think or are you going to get to the story?”

Deciding that it would be better to ignore him for the time being I continue, “For such a strong band of fighters what would be better than the tale of one of the greatest of warriors Cu Chulainn (Koo khu-linn), champion of Ulster?”

Having taken a sip of ale I take in the crowd’s expressions before adding, “The story of Cu Chulainn is a very long one, so I will instead focus on the way in which he learned to hone his great skills. Before I get to his story I must speak of his beginnings.”

“Cu Chulainn was no ordinary man. It was rumored that he was in fact the son of Lugh, the Sun God, to a mortal woman. Whether this was true Cu Chulainn never told, but every time we would begin to fight a change would come upon him. His body would begin to shake, his skin would grow hot, his hair would glow red and his heart would beat so loudly against his breast that those several yards away could hear the steady pounding. They called this riastradh (ree- a- strath), the battle frenzy and those who had the chance to view this miraculous event often didn’t live to tell the tale. Those who had survived long enough to tell the tale would speak of Cu Chulainn’s inability to cool down unless given three barrels full of icy river water. This too was a sight for the water would boil and steam until finally his body returned to normal.”

“Not only did he have a fiery temper but his body was the envy of any warrior. Not only could he handle a blade with such speed and grace that would make the greatest dancer marvel at the beauty of it but he could swim like a fish and run swifter than a deer. No man could compare to his physical prowess and though this should have made him happy he was unfulfilled. Cu Chulainn had become enamored of a girl named Emer yet when he asked her father for her hand in marriage he was denied. He kept on training yet no matter how much he improved her father was still not satisfied with his skill.”

“Eventually Cu Chulainn could take no more of the rejection and asked Emer’s father what he could do to win his favor. It took much coaxing but Emer’s father told of a powerful teacher of the arts of war named Scathach (skaw- thuck) who lived on a tiny coastal island off of Alba. If he could seek her out and become her pupil Emer’s father would give his daughter over to him.”

With a gasp one of the men echoes scornfully, “The most powerful teacher is a woman? How can that be?”

With a smile I retort, “Ah, but if you would happen upon Scathach you would not call her a mere woman. When Cu Chulainn had made to the shores of Alba he was presented with the sight of a single rope bridge wide enough for a single man to cross on foot. As he set a single foot upon the bridge the entire structure began to quiver in shake so forcefully that any foolish enough to cross would be quickly thrown off and fall upon the razor sharp rocks or the raging waters below.”

“”So he built a boat right?” Snake inquires in anticipation.

“Did you not hear the description of the water?” Wolf retorts in annoyance. “You’d have to be either foolish or suicidal to try to sail in a ship in waters so treacherous.”

Nodding my head I reply, “The waters were indeed too treacherous to sail. Many men before him had tried only to drown or be eaten alive by large, long- toothed sea creatures. Cu Chulainn was not foolish enough to attempt such a thing.”

Taking a sip of ale to collect my thoughts I continue, “Despite the odds that his chance of crossing were slim to none, Cu Chulainn was not willing to admit defeat and he was determined to successfully train under Scathach and later take possession of the lovely Emer. Nothing would sway him from what he most desired so he took in the distance of the bridge before calling upon his riastradh. With the new power pouring through his veins he took a mighty leap across the bridge. As he landed on the bridge it began to buckle and sway underfoot but he was far too fast and leapt the remaining distance before the bridge was able to throw him into the raging waters below.”

“In the distance Scathach and her daughter had watched the whole event unfold and when he touched upon the shores of the island Scathach addressed her daughter, ‘He looks like a likely fellow. He seems to already have a few skills under his belt. I’m sure he would make a decent student.’”

“’I wouldn’t might taking him as a pupil either.’” the daughter said with a completely different purpose in mind from her mother.”

The men around me began to chuckle at the story, even their Chief. I smile at the thought of what Misao would say if she heard that I was entertaining such a group? I’m sure she would be completely envious of me at the moment. After all, what could be more adventurous than camping with a group of mercenaries?

As the laughter dies down I continue, “’If you wish to teach the man the ways of love I will give you three days. Once those three days have passed he will begin his training with me immediately.’ Scathach told her daughter sternly.”

Thankful for the given time Scathach’s daughter gave Cu Chulainn a greeting I’m sure he would never forget. By the time her three days were over Cu Chulainn was knowledgeable in the needs of women and how to please them.”

One of the men states aloud in awe, “I wouldn’t have minded receiving lessons like that when I was a lad.”

With a laugh a man in the crowd retorts, “What are you talking about when you were a lad? You could use them now!”

I can’t help but chuckle alongside the men at silly banter. I couldn’t be more thrilled at how well they are responding to the story.

“When it was time for Scathach’s lessons Cu Chulainn fully understood why she was described as the most powerful teacher,” I add as the laughter finally began to dissipate. “Not only was she incredibly skilled but she was a grueling task master. After training for a year and a day he learned a great battle leap, in which he could fly high into the air far above any spear his opponent may throw towards him. He learned how to maneuver various forms of deadly weapons foreign to most armies he would ever face, such as riding chariots with blades attached to their wheels or small knives in which he learned how to juggle. His skills with a sword increased tenfold. Not only could he kill far more efficiently but he could strike fear in an opponent by shaving the hair off their heads with a couple of swift strokes.”

With wide eyes Dog begins to stroke a hand nervously over the shaved side of his scalp. A couple of men beside him notice this as well and chuckle lightly at his reaction.

“While on the island Cu Chulainn had lain with another warrior woman by the name of Aoife (EE- fah) who would after Cu Chulainn’s departure bare him a son by the name of Conlaoch (Con-la). Headstrong in his resolve to wed the lovely Emer he returned home not knowing of the son he was soon to leave behind.”

“Emer’s father never expected Cu Chulainn to return so you could only imagine his surprise when he found that not only that he still lived upon this realm but that he was successful in his training with Scathach. He tried to fight Cu Chulainn’s claims to his daughter by protecting his keep with armed guards. Of course Cu Chulainn was prepared for such a battle and easily slain his opponents. Emer’s father had no chance against Cu Chulainn and was swiftly killed. Shortly after Cu Chulainn wed Emer and they spent many blissful days together.”

“And many nights as well,” one of the men cheerfully retorts. The rest of the men cheer in agreement.

“What of his son?” Chief inquires catching me off guard. “I’m sure the story does not end there.”

“It does not, however it is long and I thought you might be bored of hearing stories all night,” I reply calmly.

“Nonsense,” Dog states with a joyful smile. “I’m sure the rest of the men would agree that we would like to hear Conlaoch’s story.”

Glancing at the eager faces I retort, “I shall only do so if someone gives me another draft of ale.”

Quickly a man with the markings of a cat replaces my mug with a new one. Looking up at him he replies, “I figured it was only a matter of time before you’d ask for one.”

With a smile I nod my thanks before taking a sip of the ale before me. Sighing I calmly begin, “As I mentioned earlier Cu Chulainn left the island leaving his lover Aoife behind. Prior to his announcement of leaving the island Aoife was going to alert him of her pregnancy but in fear of his resentment she did not. Instead she accepted the golden ring he presented her without a word.”

“Sweet of him to do so,” Snake retorts mockingly.

“Aoife didn’t expect anything of their relationship. She was a strong woman who would never use a man as a crutch to lean upon,” I explain confidently. “After all, she was a warrior first before a woman.”

“When Cu Chulainn decided to leave she wasn’t concerned about raising a child on her own rather the thought of losing her child. If you found out that you had a child to another woman wouldn’t you fight to keep him at your side?”

The men begin to nod and shake their heads in response.

“It was never stated in the tales but I’m sure that would have been her rationale. I would be afraid to lose my child even if the action was selfish.”
“As I was saying, Aoife decided not to tell Cu Chulainn of their child and thus the tragedy of both father and son began.”

“Now you can imagine the child grew strong both physically and mentally as a warrior. Being born on an island full of talent has its advantages, because he soon grew brave and strong like his father. None on the island could compare to his strength, not even his teachers. He grew to become a rival worthy of his father.”

“The ring Cu Chulainn gave to Aoife eventually was given to Conlaoch when he came of age. She never kept his father’s name a secret thinking that people should know who their parents are. He put the ring on a sturdy cord and never would you see him without the priceless token around his neck.”

“Who is to know whether holding such knowledge would have changed events however it wasn’t long until Conlaoch decided that he would go in search of his father. Aoife fearful and only wishing to protect her child let him leave under one condition; that he never reveals his name to any warrior. Because he loved and respected his mother he promised her therefore sealing his doom.”

Silently the men focus on me with raped attention. Never had I ever heard the men so silent.

“Conlaoch after traveling across the sea of Alba and to the further reaches of Erin finally reach his father’s holdings. It was there that he confronted resistance. Adorned in full armor Conlaoch approached the gate where stood a good sized army along with his foster brother Conall. They asked him for his name but keeping his promise to his mother he said not a word. This angered Conall, for no one had ever been bold enough to deny him such a simple request. Taking Conlaoch’s silence as an insult Conall challenged Conlaoch to a duel.”

“In the distance stood Cu Chulainn who watched his sons battle in secret. Of course Cu Chulainn was not aware that our young hero was his son however he couldn’t help but be drawn to the warrior. He sensed the power and ferocity behind each strike so unsurprisingly when Conall fell to his Conlaoch’s sword Cu Chulainn quickly took to challenging him. Conlaoch was not so naïve of his father’s presence though. Being eager to impress his father with his skills Conlaoch accepted the challenge.”

“The battle between father and son was long and the longer they fought the more desperate Cu Chulainn was to recruit the young man. He saw a fire in him that he hadn’t seen before. It was the first time that he truly enjoyed a spar.”

“Cu Chulainn in the midst of their fight asked the Conlaoch for his name yet because of Conlaoch’s promise he did not reply. Cu Chulainn was becoming further and further angered. No one ever dared to deny him their name. When a Lord asks a question of you you’re expected to respond in kind. He was losing his patience with the boy which is never a good thing.”

The men begin to nod in agreement which was expected however the Chief’s response was not. He seemed uncharacteristically somber. Yes, I’ve seen the Chief angry or hold an annoyed look but never has he been completely emotionless.

No, the Chief isn’t emotionless. That isn’t quite the right word. The Chief looks withdrawn as if the story is bringing unwanted thoughts or feelings. His face might not be expressing anything but he is giving a sad aura that is almost overpowering. I’ve never seen anything quite like this. This story must be drawing something from his past and strangely it’s making me feel guilty. Is my story truly putting him through such torment? I don’t like the man but I’d never intentionally hurt him.

With a sigh I add, “Conlaoch and Cu Chulainn were both growing weary. They might both have been remarkable fighters but even they had limits. If someone didn’t make a move quickly the fight would never end so seeing an opening and wishing to impress his father Conlaoch cut a single lock of his hair with the tip of his sword.“

The men gasp as I continue, “As you all know such an action can be taken as an insult. It mocks your opponent as if to say ‘I could kill you if I wanted.’ Cu Chulainn being the proud man that he was could no longer hold back his rage. Within a blink of an eye Cu Chulainn became a victim of riastradh and plunged his sword into opponent’s vitals.”

If I thought the gasps were loud before I was wrong. All of them stare at each other wide eyed as I continue, “Quickly Cu Chulainn came to himself and ran to this warrior’s side. Taking off Conlaoch’s helmet he gazed at the young boy in front of him. He had never intended to kill the boy however if he had known his age he would have surely fought down any rage he had. In despair Cu Chulainn gazed upon the boy as his precious life blood drained from his body. As he began removing more of his armor to inspect the wounds Cu Chulainn stared in shock as he saw the gold ring he gave Aoife tied to his neck. Suddenly it dawned on him that he had just killed his son.”

“That’s horrible,” Dog sorrowfully cries out. “He killed his own boy.”

“How could he live with the guilt? The boy was young and fool hardy. That doesn’t justify killing him!” Another in the crowd angrily states.

“Cu Chulainn was not heartless and though the tale does not tell of his reaction I’m sure he indeed felt his guilt. He just killed his son; any decent father would be stricken.”

“How could a tale leave out such a critical part of the story?” the Chief inquires while seething in anger. “What kind of heartless person would tell a story without accounting how all the parties felt over such a horrible death?”

With my head bowed down I reply sadly, “I always wondered the same thing. My mother always explained that the men who originally told the tale probably thought Cu Chulainn’s feelings were irrelevant since all good men should morn their sons. I don’t see it that way. I think there are many ways in which to morn and depending on what way he chose would make a powerful statement about the man. Perhaps he withdrew himself and locked himself in his castle or maybe took his aggression out on the world and to campaign against his enemies. Either way, the story seems incomplete without his feelings being addressed.”

In shock Chief asks, “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I want to believe that Cu Chulainn learned from his son and decided to live the remainder of his life in peace. After all, it was his anger and rage in the midst of battle that killed his son. Taking in Cu Chulainn’s hasty actions I have a feeling that he more than likely spent the rest of his life fighting campaigns. A man such as himself would probably see his battles as a way to honor to his son when in actuality it’s only a diversion from dwelling on his deeds.”

Looking at the fire distractedly Chief states aloud, “It is getting late. Those assigned to a post head out, those who aren’t go to your tents.”

With a sigh the men follow his orders. As I’m about to follow Dog out of the camp Chief asks calmly, “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

I look upon Dog sympathetically who is waiting for me a few feet from the fire. He nods his head in understanding while making his way quickly to the tent to tend to Jin. With a sigh I look back at the Chief who is more than ever fixated on the fire in front of him.

Taking a seat beside him I inquire, “Is there something you wish to speak to me of?”

My only answer is an irritated sigh. I smile back wickedly, “Or has the Rooster finally come to the realization that women aren’t as evil and deceptive as he believes them all to be? Has the mighty leader finally fallen and wishes to apologize?”

With a glare the Chief retorts, “I am not going to apologize now nor will I ever.”

“Why ever did you ask to speak with me then, Rooster?” emphasizing the term Rooster. I’m going to make sure that now that I know his soft spot I’ll play it up.

“I have my reasons,” the Chief states with a growl. “You best stop calling me Rooster, Fox, or I’ll make sure your stay is far from pleasant. I won’t have you demeaning me in front of my men.”

I look around the fire, I mockingly jibe, “There aren’t any men so I see no harm Rooster.”

“They may not have said it in front of my men but your actions speak volumes. You are on my camp yet you expect me to roll over and take your constant defiance towards me. I don’t care how you think or feel about me but please do try to hold your tongue around my men. You aren’t converting anyone.”
“I don’t convert people,” I spit out in anger.

“It doesn’t look much like that to me,” the Chief states coolly while staring me in the eye. I can’t help but shiver at the attention he’s suddenly giving me. “You speak to as if I were some evil villain trying to ravage everything he touches. You put yourself on such a high pedestal as if to say that you are untouchable and right in every form of being. Just watching you makes me grow infuriated.”

“I do not!” I scream enraged. “You don’t even know me. How can you say something like that?”

“That’s exactly the point,” the Chief states turning his attention back to the fire. “No one knows you, nor will anyone as long as you act like the victim.”

I open my mouth to speak but instead only gasp in surprise. He thinks that I’m playing the victim?

Finally gaining the courage to speak, I inquire, “How do you justify such a statement?”

“You are using Jin.”

“What?” I state in wide eyed shock.

“You heard me. You are using your position as Jin’s healer as a way to play the victim. You chose to stay here and heal Jin’s wounds yet you act as if it was a role I forced you into playing. You have used this position to act as if I were your enemy and you nothing but a helpless little girl. All the while you are feeding my men lies about me and their place in this world. Do not deny it. I know how you feel about me, you’ve clearly stated so to my men and yet you see nothing wrong with your actions.”

“Why should I?” I state angrily.

“Because you do not know me, nor do you know my men. You justify your beliefs by distancing yourself from our world. I truly think you fear sympathizing with me because that will change the ways in which you see the world. You would rather live in your limited existence and therefore attack my men’s and my way of living. Coming down to our level would only prove to be a means to the end of life as you have come to know it.”

I stare at the Chief with wide eyes. Never has a man ever been so bold towards me. I’m not used to being out of control. This whole conversation isn’t going the way in which I would wish it to be.

Meeting my eyes he calmly asserts, “I don’t expect you to trust me nor do I expect us to ever see eye to eye but I will no longer take your attitude. You did not have to be here but you are and you better get used to the fact. If you should blame anyone for your fate you need look no further than yourself.”

As the Chief slowly begins to rise to his feet I whisper softly, “Please, wait.”

Giving me a cocky smile he begins to slowly return to his seat beside me. We both sit in silence for a moment before I apologetically reply, “I’m sorry, you are right.”

Mockingly the Chief retorts, “Have I not heard correctly? Has the fox finally admitted that I am right?”

“Don’t get all high and mighty,” I state with a ‘humph’. “I admit that you were right about my disregard toward you and your men however I will not apologize for how I feel about you. You’re sill an egocentric Rooster.”

“Whatever you say Fox,” the Chief mischievously smirks.

“Don’t call me Fox,” I sigh in exasperation. “If I can’t call you Rooster than you can’t call me Fox.”

“Hmm. Do you wish to negotiate?”

Giving the Chief a sideway glance I reply, “I’m just stating a fact. It wouldn’t be fair if I were the only one not able to use a nickname.”
“I see, and then what should I call you? Perhaps you’d prefer Lady Megumi or Healer Girl.”

“Just Megumi, thanks,” I retort sarcastically.

With a laugh the Chief replies, “So informal.”

“I’m not one for formal titles. They seem so snotty.”

The Chief stares at me in disbelief as if mocking me on my attitude. I choose to ignore it, for now at least.

“Your men call you Chief but I’ll have none of that. You are not my commander and will not give you any ideas by giving you such a title.”

“That is the only name I go by and I will not allow you to call me by Rooster.”

“I was told that you do not go by your name however I was hoping that you’d at least have another alias to go by,” I state in exasperation.

“The only other name I have been given is the Painted Man and I highly doubt you’d use the name since you have yet to call me by it.”

“Of that you are correct. I will not call you by such a strange name,” I reply firmly.

With a smile the Chief comments, “Since my names are so inadequate I guess you’ll just have to create one.”

Examining the Chief thoroughly I take in the patterns of the feathers drawn on his arms. They are well done and have a dark edge to him. Never would I have imagined that anyone could paint another’s skin with such detail. The Raven wings are quite beautiful even if they are wasted on such a man.

“I know just the thing,” I reply happily. “All of your men go by the markings on their arms so I might as well follow tradition. How does Bran sound?”

Looking at me in bewilderment he inquires, “Bran?”

Giggling I reply, “Bran is Gaelic for Raven. I think it sound far more pleasant than the English name Raven.”

“Are you making fun of English? If you are I’ll have you know that you haven’t complained thus far to us speaking in English.”

“I am not making fun of English. If I were I would be denying part of my heritage. I just prefer the Gaelic name to the English one.”

“You better not be making fun of my heritage.” Pausing for a second Bran asks in confusion, “Your heritage? What did you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said,” I state in irritation. “You’re not the only one with English blood. How did you think I came about knowing English so well? It’s not all that commonly spoken here in Erin.”

“But you don’t look English,” Bran replies in disbelief.

“What can I say, I look more like my mother than my father,” I revel the feeling of shocking the man before me. I know that I have spoken far more than I should though I’m not too concerned at the moment.

“I guess that makes sense now that you mention it. Most commoners do not have the funds to study a language like many of the nobility do. I guess that puts to rest one of my concerns.”

“One of your concerns?” I inquire in interest. “How many such concerns do you hold?”

“You are a woman. That fact in its own right leads me to concern.”

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our little conversation…”

“Megumi, before you leave, do you really think that things might not have been different if Conlaoch’s mother didn’t tell him who his father was?”

Shaking my head in the shock of receiving such a question I reply, “I cannot predict whether or not Conlaoch would have been better off without his knowledge however I do not think that truly mattered. Conlaoch was much his father’s son. Eventually he might have made his way to his father’s lands and fought his father. Who is to know?”

“So you think that every son is destined to be like their father?”

With a smile I reply, “I do not believe that each son will be like his father in every way however I do believe that a little of each parent carries on to their children whether they know them or not. It’s hard for me to believe otherwise.”

“But what if both of the parents died before their child could form memories. Do you still think that the child would grow to be like their parents?” Bran states with his head held low.

“Like I said, I think the child will have carried traits similar to their parents however he will not necessarily be like his parents. He is his own individual person that just happens to have some commonalities passed by his blood.”

“What if the child chose to fight such a thing from occurring?” Bran somberly asks.

Putting a hand on Bran’s shoulder in support I reply, “One cannot change who they are just as they cannot change their past. Besides how do you not know that by being who your parents weren’t that you are in reality becoming like them. If you never knew them you wouldn’t know what traits to change. Such things cannot be changed so there is no reason to think too hard on them.”

Nodding his head in understanding he turns his head back to the fire.

“If there is nothing else you wish to speak of I will be retiring.”

Taking Bran’s silence as a sign of permission I make my way back towards the tent. As I leave I a glance back at the man still beside the fire. I don’t know why I care but something inside me hopes that Bran will be able to fight whatever inner demons he might be plagued with.