The Dance of the Damned: The Dawn Gods War

One hundred fifty orbital cycles had seen tremendous changes in Atalan.

The city had grown, the Starlight sea now, encircled with holdings. One hundred forty thousand Aos Sidhe had accomplished grandeur.

The few Draeg eggs saved from the death of Falias had hatched. Thousands of Draeg nymphs swam the great fresh water sea.

Draeg younglings commanding the skies. Mega fauna of the great rolling steppes to the north fed the Draeg well.

The mountains of Arratta, on the east of the sea provided shelter and prime eyries for the Draeg.

Dragon ships reigned over the Starlight sea. The Aos Sidhe prospered in peace once again, no signs of the Fomorii were to be found.

Crack! Before the echo of the first strike registered, three more followed. Llew failed utterly at defending or retreating. The pommel strike to the head was unnecessary in his battered opinion. The throw was insult to injury knocking the breath out of him.

“ Advance, advance, advance. Close and displace simultaneously” Ogmios lectured, using the fallen Llew as a foot rest.

“ Never think of responding to your opponent. Ever! Never think of defending. That not only gives your opponent the initiative, it ensures that he maintains it.” Ogmios gestured at the supine Llew.

“ How can you act, when you are reacting?”

“How can you possibly win, let alone survive, if you are always two steps behind your opponent.”

“To think without thought, to act without plan, that is the purpose of training. “

“You must learn to become lightning. Lightning moves with the speed of thought. Lightning, is thought and action as one.”

Roughly thumping Llew with the toe of his boot, “Wake up, nap time is over.” Ogmios stepped away.

“ Now, pair off, free play until you drop.”

The students groaned. Muscles sore, hands trembling, exhausted, hungry, dehydrated, they were equally miserable. None dared complain. This was part of the training. Learning to function in the worst of circumstances.

Every misery inflicted, calculated. Warriors are forged.

Forging is painful.

Catha knelt , snuggling the young Draeg. Gwynn , he had named himself. When Gwynn stood abruptly, Catha found herself draped across the Draegs shoulder. Her feet a hands breadth above the stone pavers. Gwynn had chosen the now, the moment to fly.

Catha grinned as she settled herself while they plunged from the parapets.

Being less than a century of orbits old, Gwynn, was not fully cognizant of flight dynamics. Gravity is an efficient teacher. Education can sometimes be painful.

The physical sensations of flying and of falling are related yet dissimilar. Gwynn was not experienced enough to understand the difference. Catha had expected the fall. Thinking a swim on the hot day would be refreshing. The fact of the sea below was her reason for not objecting to the leap.

Gwynn, concentrating upon “ Flying” was not prepared for the sudden stop. Catha was leaping free at impact. The force of the high dive belly flop forced flame out of one end and a noxious fume from the other. Catha’s laughter was certainly no salve for the young Draegs dignitas. Her startled squeak as he pulled her beneath the water did however serve to soothe his dismay.

Llew, exhausted, bruised and battered, had arrived just in time to see Catha and Gwynn drop over the high parapet. Doffing Cloak and kilt, he followed them. A swim would be refreshing.

Neither Gwynn nor Catha had sensed his presence, prior to his arrival in the cool water beside them. They were pleasantly surprised.

All told it was a pleasant end to the long day. Shadows lengthened. The laughing threesome frolicking with some Draeg nymphs that had joined them. One, a young female near to molting, had become enamored with Llew. Entangling herself with him , following him, and even nipping at Catha in jealousy once. A quick punch to the snout sent the nymph away to sulk.

Life is about these moments of perfection. Simple joy, true beauty.

‡†††‡

Debate raged over the calendar.

In the one hundred fifty planetary orbits the only thing agreed upon had been definition of the year. Three hundred sixty nights in length. With a five night period of “no time” held separate to remember the great fall, the destruction wreaked by the Fomorii treason.

“Aach, they quibble and quiver, moaning about nothing's.” Llew's proclamation was punctuated by Catha hurling a silver chalice at the first Minister. Ogmios barely managed to catch the chalice before impact on the first Minister. The golden contents of the chalice still showered the Minister. Mead splattered, soaking his robes of office. The minister wisely chose silence in response despite the public humiliation.

Catha, stood to pace the chamber, caressing the hilt of her ornate side sword. Her anger causing the very air to hum in mutual annoyance. Llew debated between distraction of Catha’s anger and the desire to watch her unleash her bridled fury. Gods, she burned so gloriously.

Catha chose for him. Unleashed it would be.

“So be it. By decree it shall be.

One orbit, is one year.

The year divided into three phases,

The time of dying, the time of birth, the time of life and harvest. Winter, Spring, Summer.

The day, marked sunset to sunset, beginning and ending in the death of light.

The month, marked by the phases, the cycles of the moon.

Beginning and ending in the darkness.

The days remaining, are the time of no time. The night, shall be time of memories of what was, what is lost.

There are no other such days!

Each day is a sign of victory, of survival of life.

There, It is done I have spoken.

Now get out.”

Llew smiled watching. Ogmios nodded once moving to the massive copper clad main doors of the chamber.

The ministers , all of whom had known Catha from birth. Five centuries of laughter and joy and unca this, aunty that, were stunned, standing staring.

Catha blazed. Aural flames brightly dancing. Her long red hair twisting as it played in the intense magnetism of her anger. Drawing her side sword, the blade singing, ringing out a pure crystalline high middle C, a full, perfect octave above the low snarl of her voice.

“I will not tolerate your stupidity. Get Out. I have spoken.” Catha moved slowly towards them a storm of fire and fury.

Llew spoke up softly. “ I will nae, and cannae save you. Run.” The ministers broke and ran. Ogmios opened the doors for them. When he moved to follow, “ nae, Uncle Og, you, stay.” Catha's contralto voice softly echoed.

Ogmios bowed , making a dramatic show of girding his loins. Catha’s laughter shimmered in her voice. “ I am not angry with you milord. Why did you catch my cup? I meant it to bash in his face?”

“ Aye, I knew. It is a beautiful cup.”

Llew laughed a loud. All three laughed.

Outside, the guards, that had heard all, were not dismayed. From rage to laughter in the blink of an eye, it was typical of the Aos Sidhe.

‡†††‡

Her foot slipped. Catha had foolishly let her weight shift onto her heel advancing. The strike swung off line missing completely. Llew, continued his advance, they collided, Llew stepped forward again off line. This brushed Catha aside, off balance she fell. Turning, Blade held in the low center guard Llew watched Catha turning the fall into a roll forward, away from him. She regained her feet turning to face him, using her momentum to propel herself towards him. Llew Struck from the low guard, a slight flick of his wrist bringing the point up, cutting and thrusting by simply stepping forward in line. He was inside of Catha's thrust. There was nothing she could do, her momentum plus Llew's met in her Solar plexus on the Point of His blade. “Whhhoooff uhhnn” Catha doubled over, winded. Llew continued stepping forward, slightly off line with his left foot. This time Catha couldn't recover while fighting to breathe. Down She went. She did retain enough control to roll away in a desperate bid for distance.

“HOLD!” Ogmios Sun face the weapons master called. “Quickly Catha Bach, what was your error?”

Catha, gasping , groaned out, “concentration and foot work.”

Grasping her wrist, heaving her to her feet, he snapped “ Explain.”

“ My concentration was split, unfocused. I focussed upon Llew's advance, and his point, while thinking of my point placement. When I advanced my strike I stepped wrong, losing traction, momentum and gravity took precedence.”

“He allowed you to recover. A foolish thing itself. Why did you lose.”

“I was angry. I let anger direct thought, rushing in . I distracted my self, impaling myself.”

“Exactly. You can think after the fact when it is too late. You must train, mind, body and spirit. Be lightning, thought and action, one and the same. Stop guessing the opponents motive! You already know it is to kill you. Stop thinking of your motive, you already know it is to kill your opponent. Thought and action focused, one. Ignore all else. “

Catha blushed. She knew full well that Ogmios addressed more than Her sword skills and battle tactic.

Shaking her head and smiling.

“Aye, I thought of the councils motives, actions, gave them initiative, ignored their inaction until I allowed them to goad me to action.”

“Aye ,yes you did lass.” Ogmios baritone rumbled.

“Was I wrong to issue the decree?” She asked.

“Nae milady. The only wrong was in timing to my mind. You allowed them to dither, which undermined your authority. That's why it became a power struggle. “

Catha, Stripped away her gauntlets and helm.

“Is their more uncle?”

“ Only cold ale and meat Catha Bach. And a bath.”