The Children of Zzthethpezemos

The next few weeks passed in peace. The Gael busied himself by working in the gardens, exploring the island, fishing, talking with Zzthethpezemos and Brenne, and of course, spending much time with Terrilara. Of two things he had no doubts, he was in love for the first time in his life...truly and deeply in love. And these days were the best of his troubled journey in the world, by far.

Turlogh and Brenne often talked and drank together. One fine day they took their boat out and sailed completely around the island. Brenne brought along a plentiful supply of the herb non. Comfortably stoned, the two men passed the afternoon letting the ocean breeze cut through their hair as they waved at the friendly folk walking on shore. Turlogh had recently chopped off his thick mane and now wore the short locks that he was prone to favor. Brenne joked that soon he would take the triangular fashion of the yellow warriors. "That be one custom I'm not much endeared off," Turlogh replied with a grimace.

"Are we going to return to Errin?" Asked young Brenne. "I scarce have a limp anymore. I should find my sea legs near good as ever I'd judge. Maybe better with all the fine drink and food I've been given here. Still, some good Gaelic ale passing my lip has entered my mind from time to time."

Turlogh hesitated only a moment before replying, "yes." The somber Gael stared off at the horizon. "Are you ready to leave then Brenne son of Art?"

"By the Gods NO!" Brenne exclaimed. "With every passing day, the tug of fabled Errin on my heart grows weaker. It would be hard to forget Ka. I have never seen a woman so gentle."

Turlogh nodded. "Aye, tis the same with myself and Terrilara. Yes, the day will come when I must answer the urge to return to the bloody green land that sired me. But in truth, I'm feel no great yearning to leave this place. Still, since we've come, it seems trouble has followed. Perhaps the battle with those war-like savages was a sign. Can there truly be peace here.....while two such as us, with much blood on our hands, live amongst these quiet folk."

Brenne shook his head and spoke with a voice surprising for one only seventeen years old. "Nay weapons brother. Such thoughts as those are the reason your own kin say you're mad. I wish no offense on you but there be darkness in your soul. Still, Ive seen considerably less of it lately. Methinks, this island could make a lighthearted lad out of even one such as you my friend. And as to our arrival being a bad sign, be done with that, without you that harpy would have stolen the child. And without our steel, I have scarce doubt the entire village would have been razed by those brown devils we sent to their heathern ancestors."

Turlogh's brows grew dark upon hearing the young man address him in such a manner but the emotion quickly passed. The words rang with truth. He looked off towards the horizon again but without thoughts of Errin. Brenne refilled the pipe and soon they were sending waifs of aromatic smoke upwards to the Gods of the sky. And what a blue sky it was!

"Perhaps we could take the women with us," Turlogh offered.

"I've thought on that, believe me," Brenne answered. "Still, I fear that they would be an object of curiosity with that lovely yellow skin of theirs, maybe even demonized. At the very least, they'd be subjected to the jealously of the women of Errin. It would be difficult, even in Errin, to find their matches where beauty and gentleness are concerned."

Turlogh mused quietly before replying, "aye, perhaps." He silently wondered if Torn had not already turned his young companion into a man wise beyond his years. Certainly this was no boyish chatter. The teachings of Zzthethpezemos had clearly influenced the lad. Or perhaps it was the blow to the head. At this thought Turlogh emitted a rare thing for him...a chuckle.

Brenne looked on amazed, "and what be it you should be finding now to amuse you so." The boy's face reddened somewhat and his warrior blood warmed.

Turlogh shook his head. "Perhaps I'm just....happy. Now pass me that pipe good lad, must you horde it so!"

The dark Gael took the pipe and seemed to study it a moment before speaking again. "I must say this, there is nothing here that gives me a sense of urgency in departing."

"Well spoke," Brenne said as his smile returned.
.....................................................................................

The days passed underneath the warm blue sky and Turlogh Dubh O'Brien became more at one with the Children of Zzthethpezemos. When he played with Mayan by the evening fire, he caught himself wondering about a blood child of his own...mayhap a son. Dare he even wish such a thing and him so far from his true home. Still, he hardly felt a stranger here. Sometimes these thoughts troubled him. Sensing his mood, Terrilara stroked his broad shoulders as she passed with the cooking pot.

Someone called from beyond the door, "Obryinne, Obryinne, are you there."

"Enter," Turlogh answered. Suddenly the form of the tall warrior Sornge stood framed in the door.

"Come Obryinne, Zzthethpezemos begs an audience with you Brother."

Turlogh rose and gently place Mayan on the bed. "And he shall have it Brother." He nodded to Terrilara and walked out into the cool underneath the stars.

The house of Zzthethpezemos smelled of incense and non. The Chieftain of Torn motioned for Turlogh to be seated. He graciously offered his guest drink and a turn at his smoldering pipe. The dark Gael accepted the offer and sucked the smoke into his lungs before thanking his host.

Zzthethpezemos likewise took a long draw from the pipe. His face took on a thoughtful aspect. Turlogh waited patiently for the man to speak. It seemed odd that one as intelligent as the ancient man should be at an apparent loss for words. When the old yellow-skinned healer did speak, his tone was somber and soft.

"My brother from Errin, I am much troubled. I find it difficult to impose upon such a friend as yourself, but I am compelled to ask something of you."

Turlogh was puzzled. "Ask what you will good Zzthethpezemos, I have been called mad but no man has accused me of turning my back on a brother when he needs my help."

The old man nodded, acknowledging the pledge. "I appreciate your words, and I am humbled by the offer from a great man such as yourself. First, I must tell you a story, one that will make clear my intentions, and what I must ask of you."

Zzthethpezemos passed the pipe back to Turlogh. Then he leaned back and his eyes seemed to stare at something a very long ways from where he sat. Then his head moved slightly up and down and his long fingers rubbed his knees. "A great many years ago, yea, more than a thousand years before even I was born, there was a great city known by the name of Troy. It was a rich city, rich in gold, fine horses, great works of art, and beautiful women. The king of Troy was called Priam, many of his sons were famous warriors. The city was a great center of trade and art, the envy of the world. One day a mighty king named Agamemnon of Mycenae raised a vast army. He wanted the riches of Troy. A son of Priam, in a fit of passion, stole away the wife of Agamemnon's brother. This was the excuse the Mycenaens needed to wage war. At last they landed a mighty fleet near the city and for ten long years a terrible bloodletting darkened the fair land. Agamemnon realized that his army, mighty though it was, could never overcome the high walls around Troy...and its fierce fighters. The Trojans were finally overcome by foul treachery. The foe entered the city hidden inside a colossal wooden horse. Foolishly the people of Troy thought this object had been left behind out of respect for the Trojan's valor. Late that night, the Mycenaens and their allies let themselves out from the belly of the great horse. They opened the gates to the city and all was lost."

Zzthethpezemos paused to take a drink of wine before continuing. "There was a great sorcerer living amongst the Trojans. He was of a race not unlike my own, a man of great power, skill, and age. He was one of the few that escaped that night. With the aid of the God Apollo, he and a few of the Trojans made their way to an island just a short sail north of Torn. This man's name was Xaarhon. He spent the rest of his life on that island. After hundreds of years he finally died but his descendants still occupy his former home. The people of this island, that in truth has no name, are mystical and to be feared. They are giants in stature and possess powerful, magical knowledge. The island has no name because it is known by the name of a mountain that rises up and dominates the center of the land. This mountain is called the Mountain of Wonders, it was there that Xaarhon settled. A most powerful witch, a descended from Xaarhon, lives there now and it is she that holds the key to the peace on Torn."

"How does she hold the key to peace here?" Turlogh asked, mesmerized by the tale he was hearing.

"Yes, let me tell you now good Turlogh. You see, there were many objects of amazing art and advanced technology that Xaarhon managed to bring away from Troy. The Trojans were descended from the people of ancient Atlantis. They still had some remnants of the Atlantean knowledge. The object that interests me the most was a fabulous golden bird that to this day can be found on the Mountain of Wonders. This bird is a mechanical device made of gold and other mysterious metals. The bird sings all the time and it is said that anyone that comes within the slightest hearing range of this wonder shall be enchanted. All thoughts of war, violence, or rage are erased instantly from the minds of they that hears the magical song of the golden bird. If we could bring this bird to Torn, It might well be that our peace would be guaranteed forever, or at least until the songbird no longer functions. The recent attack by the harpy, and then the brown warriors, has given me much to ponder on. I am old and soon my time will pass. I love my children here and have a wish to see the lives of them and theirs continue as it has for so long.....in complete peace."

"This bird must be guarded closely, such an object will not be surrendered easily," Turlogh said. "I am honor bound to seek out this thing, but the theft of such a magnificent work of art would surely spark a terrible war between the two islands."

"Very well spoke, my fine Gael! But be at ease, I think there might well be a means of obtaining the bird without bloodshed or foul deception. The glorious thing now belongs to a great witch, the granddaughter of Xaarhon. She is very powerful and to attempt to steal or take her bird by force of arms would be the doom of us all! However, I have some knowledge of her, though her name is a mystery to me. It is said that she has an obsessive fetish for beautiful emeralds. Fortunately, this is an obsession that I share with her."

Zzthethpezemos reached underneath his robe and presented a rather large leather bag. He loosened the tie and poured the contents onto a small wooden table. The bag contained dozens of incredible green gems. Turlogh was stunned by the sight of such amazing wealth. The value of the stones was enough to ransom the heads of many kings.

"Truly, I have never laid eyes on stones that held so much splendor! By Crom! How in the name of the Gods did you ever obtain such as these?" The Gael asked, even his somber features registering awe.

"Long have I lived and long have I had the fetish for emeralds. I have searched them out and performed many deeds for my lovelies. Still, I would have it that these be traded for the bird.....if the rumor is true that the witch might do so. My love for my children far outstretches my passion for these cold stones."

Zzthethpezemos continued, "I am not as firm of flesh as once I was. It is my desire that you, good Turlogh, take these stones to the witch and barter for the bird. With the golden songbird any potential foe would be rendered impotent, and the peace would not be broken.....ever. Still, there is much of the Mountain of Wonders that I do not know of. It could be a very dangerous quest. The giants that roam the land there are said to be cannibals. Only a man of your intelligence and fighting skills is worthy of such a task as this. Nonetheless ,if you agree to my request, I will send two dozen of our best warriors with you as added protection."

"No, I will go alone," the Gael said. "All of Torn's warriors will be needed here if the brown savages return....or some other of their like should come a'reaving. And one man might not be perceived as a threat by the people of this Mountain of Wonders. A large party of well armed warriors is easily viewed in a dangerous way. I will undertake this task alone and I will succeed, great Zzthethpezemos is not the only one that would like to leave a legacy of lasting peace to the gentle folk of Torn."

"Very well, my brother. Still, I must ask you to take along a guide who can direct you where you must go after you make land on the Mountain of Wonders." Zzthethpezemos' tone was very insistent. Turlogh easily admitted to himself that he had no desire to lose his way in an unknown land.

"Yes, a guide would be very helpful. If they can bear my company, so be it. I shall be ready to depart in the morning."

The old man shrugged, "why not wait a few more days, you might be gone for a long time. And if, the Gods forbid, something should befall you. Terrilara would never forgive me for sending you away so quickly. Tarry awhile yet my brother."

"I will do as you wish, but in three days I set sail for this Mountain of Wonders." There was much determination in the attitude of the dark Gael. Zzthethpezemos was troubled for the safety of his new friend but the wise chieftain realized there would be no turning back now, for Turlogh Dubh of the Clan na O'Brien had set his mind to a purpose. No force short of death would prevent this thing being done.