The Serpent's Song Read online

  Nodding her head, Vette responded, “I agree. Whatever is in the mist it certainly has helped me. It’s like stepping into a spa. I had no idea what to expect. So far, this seems to be working out quite well. By the way, Andrew, what have you learned about Tir na nOg?”

  Being a descendant of an illustrious Scottish family, Andrew Sinclair in his late middle age had accumulated an impressive array of credentials as a competent statesman and businessman, at times being appointed to senior military and international positions for his country. He was comfortable commanding forces to achieve a mission especially in the political uncertainties of a foreign country. Such family and outside activities had given him a global network of contacts and plenty of private resources. Yet, he was known to live a disciplined life with commitments in many organizations, secret and otherwise. Widowed with three grown children, he longed to have one final adventure to add to his accomplishments and bring honour to his family and country. The opportunity arrived with Angi and the medallion. Through one of his secret societies he was made aware of an old legend that somewhere in Scotland and/or Ireland an ancient piece of technology had been protected for generations. A faded sketch confirmed that Angi’s medallion was that item. Through Andrew, the team fully resourced and protected, managed to acquire the last four gemstones. His quick acceptance of a magical medallion and another dimension showed the adaptability of the man, the option of entering another dimension only whetting his appetite for adventure. Putting his affairs in order, he willingly stepped through the Gate of Tara, with the hope that this mission might give him continued purpose in life. Being the only Gaelic speaking member of the team, he was busy quizzing anyone who ventured into their quarters. Being older, the young students gave him respect and tried to answer his questions.

  Responding to Vette, he said, “Not much. As you can see, we have been relegated to this educational centre on a hilltop above a city down near the shore. I expect they are holding us here until they are certain we will not contaminate their environment. After all, we could be harbouring some unwanted germs. This likely explains Sirona’s frequent scanning of us since our arrival.”

  “I hope you’re right,” came Dylan’s frustrated response from the other table. Dylan Gabriel, as head of the bodyguards was restive at being restrained, and openly questioned the length of their confinement. “We’re losing valuable time just sitting around. Surely with their technology any major issue could have been resolved by now.”

  “Maybe so, Dylan, but let’s not forget the devastation to the American Indians when the Europeans arrived. Millions died from diseases for which they had little resistance,” came Morgan’s thoughtful response.

  Wolfram’s red-haired friend, Morgan Mandelthrope, was an eccentric academic professor of Celtic studies at Boston University. His tussled red hair and previous matching beard gave him the unofficial distinction of being Boston’s own leprechaun. Morgan’s stultified academic life was torn apart when he agreed to investigate for Wolfram a lost secret of a seventeenth century medallion. To his horror, his inquiry led to the death of two people; his academic colleague in Ireland and Angi’s grandmother in Canada. Morgan was terrified when the killer turned on him in his determination to get to the medallion. Naïve, and seeking an escape, Morgan’s wife, Kari-Ann, not only became the killer’s pawn to ensnare Morgan but lost her own life in the process. Morgan, struggling over the episode, shaved off his beard, joined the world of the ‘ordinary’ and took off to Scotland to accompany his friend in search of the medallion’s gemstones. His love and fascination with all things Celtic proved a healthy diversion in his recovery. His entrance into what appeared to be the lost world of the Tuatha de Danann, the ancient Irish gods, not only captivated his academic interest but fueled his imagination.

  Realizing the dangers of even minor diseases to a community with little resistance, Angi interjected, “I’m sure Sirona has her reasons. We can wait. But I’d love to know more about that flashing device she and the others use. Andrew, this highlights an important point. What do we have in place to prevent us returning to Earth with unwanted organisms?”

  “Angi, once we make contact with our home team, I’ll get something set up,” replied Andrew. “While I’m aware our time is limited, it’s best we walk gently at this point. So, for now, let’s review what little we know.” Bringing the whole group into the conversation he continued, “As you may or may not know, this area is the royal centre of their kingdom. The region has four cities: Gorias, Falias, Findias and Murias. We are in Murias. Morgan, can you recall anything about these four cities in your Celtic studies, especially Murias?”

  “Vaguely. Let’s see, isn’t Murias supposed to have a cauldron with an endless supply of food and abundance? This magical cauldron was also supposed to be able to revive wounded warriors on the battlefield. It’s associated with water, cleansing, healing, rebirth and resurrection. Whatever that means is hard to say. Sometimes legends get a bit scrambled over centuries. We’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Morgan,” replied Andrew, “It’s a start.” He continued, “This building is called ‘The House of Learning’ or ‘Teach na Foghlama’ in Gaelic. As you will recall, when we arrived, to get to this building, we walked across a stone plaza from ‘The House of Life’ or ‘Teach na Beatha,’ the centre housing the intergalactic gate.”

  Excited, Morgan interjected, “Do you know that certain temples in the early centuries of Egypt were referred to as a House of Life? The temples were usually near a sacred enclosure and served as a place for the learning of medicine, astronomy, magic and alchemy. Some were famous for their libraries. Imagine having the chance to be in one that is still active.”

  “Interesting, Morgan, could we explore this later?”

  Unperturbed, Morgan replied, “Sure, I’m certain we’ll have much to chat about in the days ahead.”

  “From my brief observation, this House of Learning is a huge structure with many students. It has both resident and training facilities for the education of specially chosen members of their kingdom; male and female. I’ve asked about the colour coding in their uniforms. Similar to the Druids they use three basic colours: green, blue and white. Those in striped uniforms of blue, green and white are novices. If they follow the same pattern, then Green is the lowest rank. It’s the colour of learning. The Druids called these the Ovate or Avydd, who were expected to know something about medicine, astronomy, poetry and music. The next highest Druidic rank wore sky-blue which represented harmony and truth. These were the Bards or Beirdd, who were expected to memorize thousands of verses of Druidic sacred poetry. They were sometimes depicted with an Irish harp and were said to be mentors for those entering the Druidic Mysteries. The top rank wore white, the Druids or Derwyddon, which was symbolic of purity and the colour for the sun. These individuals administered to the spiritual needs of the people and the training of their youth. While this information may help, there is no guarantee the two worlds are identical.”

  “The students go through a rigorous program taking years to reach even the lowest level. That flat-topped pyramid between these buildings is their testing centre. When students reach a certain point in their training, they go through a very stringent fasting and examination process. As best as I can understand, this testing consists of a series of computerized holographic programs, the tests graded in severity for each rank. Have you noticed, there are few students in this area in the higher ranks? Likely more advanced students are relegated to other sectors of the building. As I recall, Druidic testing could be so severe that some candidates died in the process.”

  “That’s true,” came Morgan’s immediate reply. “But such extreme testing also occurred in some of the old mystery schools of Greece and Rome and in aboriginal societies on Earth. The Spirit Quest in North American Indian societies is said to tax the physical, mental and spiritual stamina of the candidate. I don’t suppose they’d allow an outsider a look see?” asked Morgan, well aware of the answer.

 
“Not likely,” replied Andrew. “This testing is secretive. Unless invited, we do not push our way into such spiritual or sensitive spaces nor expect an invite to meet Queen Dana na Gig, Sirona’s mother. The Royal Court resides in that magnificent building at the top of the hill. By the way, I discovered that Sirona is next in line to the royal throne as this is a matriarchal society and Sirona is the only daughter.”

  Having the medallion, Angi was the first to encounter Sirona who appeared as a hologram in Angi’s bedroom in Scotland, an image which gradually improved as they located the rest of the gemstones. Still in holographic form, Sirona proceeded to initiate Angi on how to handle the medallion’s powers. While Angi considered herself tall for her world, Sirona stood at least five inches above her. Angi’s later description to her colleagues was that Sirona had an oval face with dark emerald eyes and platinum hair which she wore in a long braid. Her slim athletic build was clothed in an off-white uniform of pants and tunic accompanied by few adornments; a circular serpent badge, a gold serpent ring and a flashing wrist device. She moved swiftly giving the overall impression of elegance, assurance and grace and someone familiar with being in charge. As an instructor, Angi found her firm with little leeway for frivolity. In their initial encounter they had come to terms with their unusual situation, Angi fully aware that this was her only path to survival in managing such unknown technology. Arriving in Tir na nOg they were getting to know Sirona in person, which differed slightly from her holographic image.

  “Wow, that’s a discovery. You mean that we’ve had the princess of this kingdom as our guide? Have you any idea when she might assume such royal duties?” asked Angi, who was hoping it wasn’t imminent, as she needed to learn a great deal more about her medallion.

  “If age is the factor, it’s going to be difficult to determine,” replied Andrew. “By our calculations, Sirona might be hundreds of years old in Earth time. But keep in mind, in this world Sirona may be no older than you or Vette. Time is measured differently here. One unknown question is, can the present queen abdicate or does she have to die before Sirona takes her place. If it’s any help, Angi, there is no evidence this is imminent. By the way Sirona’s full name is Sirona Anna Eriu. We should keep this in mind as this may be the name familiar to her subjects.”

  “Has Sirona any siblings?” asked Vette, interested in Sirona’s family.

  “The number is unclear. I think she has two older brothers who have all been assigned major centres to govern, none in this vicinity.”

  “What about her father?” asked Vette.

  “He apparently died in a battle some time ago. His name was Nuada Dago and, as much as I have learned, he was well respected. One interesting point is that he was over eight feet tall and heavily built. One wonders if any of Sirona’s brothers are like him. Sirona, although taller than any of us, seems average. Just look at the height of those students below. Her father commanded fleets of ships, likely space ships. When her husband was killed, Sirona’s mother took command of the forces and pressed on to victory. Don’t underestimate the women on this planet.”

  “Don’t underestimate the women on our planet either,” came Vette’s clip response.

  “Point taken,” said Andrew with a chuckle, knowing Vette would react.

  Bryce, the second senior member, was more interested in the royal court. “Andrew, as with most royal settings, have you learned anything of any contenders to the throne or of any court intrigues? I expect it’s too soon and our charming attendants would be sworn to silence.”

  Bryce Roberts, also known as Lord Lywillan, in his seventies, on his first meeting with Angi back in Scotland was recovering from knee surgery and beginning to realize that his senior years lay ahead with many uncertainties. This surgery had been his only frailty after years of an active sports career, at times bordering on the professional. He maintained an ongoing interest in rugby and golf. Bryce looked back on a life of numerous business and academic achievements, culminating in his appointment as Vice Chancellor of Cardiff University, a position he still held. He had worked with and been friends with Andrew for decades, having met in various senior government positions and social organizations. They knew and trusted each other. Widowed for over a decade with no children, Bryce was relying more and more on his wide network of friends to fulfill his life. An adventure into another dimension had never crossed his mind, but when it occurred he was surprised at his enthusiasm. Crossing into another dimension had renewed his purpose in life and he was enjoying the energy of the younger members of the group.

  “Much too soon,” was Andrew’s immediate reply, “and it may be impossible to assess anyway. As you know Bryce, such intrigues are likely there but cleverly camouflaged. As such, we must be careful that we do not stumble or get ensnared into someone’s nasty court intrigues.”

  Bryce pressed on, “Have you any idea Andrew, about their politics? We’re counting on your Gaelic to find out such details.”

  “Actually, Bryce, my Gaelic is somewhat antiquated. It’s like the difference between old English and our modern lingo on earth, almost incompatible. They have phrases that, for me, are complex and unclear. So while I can translate certain words, I’m still struggling with their fast-paced responses. But from the little I’ve learned, there is a Council of Elders, possibly the heads of traditionally powerful groups in the region and the Queen has a small cadre of advisors. It appears that any major wars were centuries ago. There are squabbles in distant kingdoms but generally peace seems to prevail. Presently, their priorities seem to be on honesty in government and environmental stability. Opening the Serpent’s Gate has relieved a great deal of anxiety by restoring some balance in their atmosphere. Again, the details are sketchy.”

  “By the way, Andrew, who runs the school?” asked Angi, interested in who administered the building they were housed in.

  “Angi, remember that fellow in the welcoming party who would not shake hands with us?”

  “Yes, the fellow with the sallow complexion, grey hair and piercing black eyes.”

  “That’s him. His name is Zolar. It was fortunate I mentioned before we departed that shaking hands is not an accepted custom in all societies. His tradition may be one that shuns such contact as no one in the welcoming party seemed perturbed by his action.”

  “He seemed cold to me but perhaps that’s unfair, I only met him once. I wonder how I’d react to meeting someone from another world,” replied Angi thinking out loud.

  “It’s rumoured he’s one of a number of possible suitors being considered for Sirona. Keep that in mind if we have anything to do with him. I’m not sure how complicated such arrangements may be here in Tir na nOg.”

  “Don’t you just love the name?” replied Vette, as she repeated the name softly. “It’s musical. Morgan do you know anything about the name?”

  Morgan, always glad to share his information, responded, “Tir na nOg or the Land of Promise is one of the Irish names for the Otherworld. It’s depicted as a supernatural realm of everlasting youth, beauty, health, abundance and joy. Its inhabitants, they say, are the Tuatha de Danann of mythical tales, a name we’ve discussed before. While other cultures talk about similar enchanting isles, this is the first time that I’ve had the exquisite delight in landing in one.”

  “Thanks Morgan, you’re a treasure,” replied Vette. “Now I’d like to return to Sirona. I suppose arranged marriages are the norm in royal families. I’d love to get her viewpoint on such matters, but I’ll stifle the impulse,” she said as she winked at Angi.

  Andrew, found an opening and pressed on. “Rumor has it that Sirona has rejected quite a few suitors. Apparently, she’s not anxious to marry or to assume her queenly duties. She likes her freedom and enjoys unique projects like us. We are under her royal protection, a position which definitely works in our favour.”

  Suddenly unable to control his enthusiasm, Morgan commented, “By the way, have you tasted this fruit? It has the roundness and redness of an apple but tastes
like a combination of a peach and pear. True ambrosia! There is an orchard just outside this House. I suppose taking a bag of these back to Earth would be prohibited. What a shame.”

  Wolfram, biting into what appeared to be a piece of ham asked, “Speaking of food, I was wondering, are we really eating meat or does it just look like meat? It has the oddest taste……..it’s fine, but definitely different.”

  At that moment Sirona appeared, and hearing Wolfram’s question responded, “Actually, Wolfram, we don’t eat meat. Myttrwn - pronounced Mitron - and I are creating your diet on our replicating equipment from what I learned from my visits to your planet and what we’ve observed on your Internet. We have plenty of fruits and vegetables, it’s protein that’s in question.”

  “Woops, media food presentations could produce surprises,” came a reply from the other table.

  Dylan spoke up, “Sirona, Joel Tomkins here is a trained cook, and perhaps he can help your guys with the food replication.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll make the connection,” replied Sirona.

  “By the way, while you’re creating,” looking at Joel, “could you conjure up an occasional pizza, or maybe some tea and coffee?” asked Vette.

  Joel nodded and quietly responded, “I’ll try, but no guarantees, Vette.”

  “At the same time, maybe we could try more of your dishes,” interjected Angi as she looked at Sirona.

  “I’ll discuss that with Myttrwn,” replied Sirona, and continuing she added, “I’m no expert on food but I’m sure we would love to taste some of your food like this pizza just mentioned by Vette.”