The man did not answer, only continued to stare at the newcomer.
Kasdan's brows knitted together, his eyes glaring. "Are you deaf?" he shouted at the sentry. "I said I want to see your king!" Still no answer. His patience was wearing thin and he said with a snarl, "This is the last time I will ask you to get your king. If you do not respond, I will kill you where you stand." He placed his hand on the revolver.
The sentry followed the movement with his eyes then raised his head above the level of the gate. He had red hair with matching beard. "That is bold talk when there is a wall between us. Besides, you have no weapons," he said in a nervous voice. "Where are your sword and shield?"
Kasdan perceived that the guard was delaying, playing for time until reinforcements arrived. He could already hear the clank of metal against metal and men shouting from inside the fort. He considered killing him for effect before his backup arrived. It would be an easy shot from ten feet away, and would mystify the approaching warriors as to how he had managed to kill the guard from the opposite side of the gate. It would certainly instill a note of caution within them. On the other hand, it might infuriate them when they saw the top of their friend's head missing. Balancing the two choices, he decided to wait for the appropriate moment to demonstrate his power. The time for that would depend on Eochaid, their king.
He did not have long to wait. Within three minutes a large number of warriors had amassed on the opposite side of the wall. Fierce faces glared at him from behind the stone barrier. As his gaze flickered across the assemblage, the gate flew open and a group of armed men surged out to encircle him. He tilted his head back just enough to add authority to the haughty look on his face. Showing signs of weakness or fear in this initial meeting could invite disaster.
A man who appeared to be in charge stepped to within three feet of him and said, "Who are you to demand seeing our king?" Like the others, he was bearded, but his hair was shorter than usual, chopped off halfway down the back of his neck. He wore a leather vest without a shirt underneath. The arms were muscled and deeply tanned. His dark eyes roamed over Kasdan, examining the unusual clothing and boots. He reached out and ran his fingertips down the front of Kasdan's camouflage jacket, feeling the rough texture of the garment.
Kasdan's eyes narrowed. He was at least a foot taller than the soldier and was also endowed with a powerful frame. He slapped the hand away and said in a sullen tone, "Keep your hands off me. My words are for your king, not you."
The circle of armed men shifted nervously, some of them making unintelligible comments and drawing their swords. Kasdan perceived the explosive nature of the confrontation, but kept a cool and confident demeanor.
The soldier took a couple of steps back and regarded the newcomer in a calm manner. He raised a hand toward his men, a command to settle down. After a few seconds he glanced at the sky. It was cloudless. "Was it you who made the thunder?" He sounded expectant.
Kasdan glanced around the circle of men, keeping a warlike look on his face. "It was," he said in an arrogant tone.
The soldier nodded matter-of-factly, then said, "Come with me." There was no indication of fear or capitulation in his tone, only an acceptance of a situation he considered beyond his authority to resolve. The warriors moved to form a loose horseshoe around Kasdan, their leader in front. At his command, they all passed through the gate and into the fort.
As he walked, Kasdan studied his surroundings with interest. He noted that the village occupied a small valley about two miles long with a string of steep, rocky mountains along both sides. A rapidly flowing stream of shallow water ten feet across, split the village lengthways. They were proceeding down a wide avenue with dozens of thatch houses on both sides of the water. Hundreds of men, women, and children lined the way, staring at the newcomer with guarded eyes. Kasdan ignored them. The ground inside the fort was open, but in the far distance a wide expanse of dwarf oaks and junipers grew outside the security of the wall. As they got closer, he saw that many houses and other structures had been built among the trees.
His guards seemed to be taking him toward a large, circular structure located near the center of the fort. Its walls were made of stone, with a well-maintained thatch roof. He could see a stout man, flanked by several others, standing just outside the structure's wide door. They marched up to them and stopped a few feet away.
The lead guard turned and pointed to Kasdan. "This man claims to have made the thunder, Eochaid," he said to the stout man. "He requests an audience with you."
The king did not speak. Instead, he stood surveying Kasdan like a hawk stares at a rodent he is about to attack. "Who are you?" he finally said, his voice a deep baritone.
Kasdan returned his stare for a few seconds before answering. He had met many barbarian kings in his lifetime, and knew from experience that his first words must be wisely chosen. He glanced at the king's associates one-by-one, then said to Eochaid, "Someone who can bring you victory over the Tuatha de Danann."
Eochaid's mouth fell open just a little then his face broke into a wide grin. He and the others began to laugh and poke each other with their elbows.
Kasdan remained still, his face expressionless.
When the laughter subsided to a manageable degree, the king shrugged his massive shoulders and said, "Forgive us, stranger, but it has been a long time since we had anything to laugh about. Now, tell me who you are and why you think you can help us defeat the Tuatha."
Kasdan had considered the details of what this very conversation would entail while trekking to the Fir Bolg fort. He was aware that the principles of time-travel dictated that nothing he did, or could do, would change history in any appreciable way. However, in this particular instance, history and folklore were entwined so closely that the subsequent legend could have sprung from an event so far into the past that it existed only in conjecture. It may not have happened as recorded, if it occurred at all.
The generally accepted story, as handed down by bards and poets over the eons, was that a great battle was fought between the Fir Bolg and the Tuatha de Danann in the prehistoric days of Ireland. The fight, known as the Battle of Moytura, was alleged to have occurred on a huge plain just east of the modern town of Cong. According to legend, the battle lasted for four days, with the Fir Bolg eventually losing the fight due to greater enemy numbers and their use of magic. On the forth day, having lost their king in the battle, the Fir Bolg asked for peace and accepted exile in the northwestern part of the island.
The Tuatha themselves were alleged to have eventually been conquered by other invaders and banished into the underworld, where they are said to exist even in modern times. Mystical in nature and appearance, they soon became known as the Sidhe, or fairies, and were endowed with supernatural powers.
While Kasdan was aware of these tales, he knew that Eochaid was not. Accordingly, he felt free to use whatever poetic license was necessary to secure the services of the Fir Bolg. He had chosen them over the Tuatha simply because they were barbarians and would be more susceptible to believing what he wanted them to believe. As for the Tuatha, legend had delegated them to the rank of a highly civilized culture with godlike powers. For that reason, he was confident that his choice of allies was the correct one. If he had approached the Tuatha, and stood before their king as he was doing with Eochaid at this moment, the outcome may have been very different. And one thing was certain: Eochaid was real, so the Tuatha must also be real.
He let his face become expressionless; a technique that came naturally to him. He had no conscience and felt no regret about what he intended to do. "May we sit while we talk?" he asked Eochaid.
The barbarian king stepped aside and extended his arm toward the door.
Kasdan, the first to enter, wrinkled his nose and frowned. He recognized the scent immediately: unventilated, enclosed space occupied by unwashed human bodies, animal pelts, and peat smoke. He was fastidiously clean in his personal hygiene and had always disliked being in close quarters with savages. However, this was
a temporary condition; one that he would have to bear for the moment.
When they were all inside and seated on crudely made wooden chairs covered with hides, Kasdan said, "You have fought your enemies with sword, lance, and knife and have been defeated. While you are brave, you lack the weapons necessary to defeat a superior foe. I can give you those weapons." He fell silent, waiting for Eochaid to speak.
The king seemed to be in deep thought, his dark eyes searching Kasdan's face. After a long moment, he grunted and said, "You walk into my village unannounced and demand an audience with me. Now, apparently unarmed except for the club you carry in your waistband, you boldly tell me that you have weapons that can defeat the Tuatha. Where are these weapons who exactly are you?"
Kasdan nodded and smiled faintly. "I understand your mistrust, but if I told you who I am, you would not believe me. In any case, I can prove my point if necessary."
"I do not think I have seen a man as large as you, except for the Tuatha," Eochaid said. He looked Kasdan up and down. "They may be taller, but they are not the same as you. In fact, I do not believe that they are completely human. These weapons of yours, where are they? Are you a Druid?"
"I am not a Druid, and I will produce the weapons at the proper time," he assured the king. "But first, there is something you must do for me."
Eochaid drew back his shoulders and straightened his back. His face showed suspicion. "And what is that?"
"There is a man who will come to your island a few days from now. This man presents a grave danger to both you and me. He is a wizard from a far country who wishes to establish a kingdom on the islands off your western coast. He intends to join forces with the Tuatha de Danann in order to enslave all the other races who live here." The lie came easily to Kasdan's lips. In fact, he was enjoying the creation of the false threat as it unfolded in his mind from second-to-second. "But there is no need for alarm. If you will give me three of your best warriors, I will take them to the place where he will land and destroy him there. His death will ensure that the Tuatha will have to face your army without the aid of magic. In addition, you will be armed with the new weapons I will supply after he is dead."
Eochaid cocked his head to one side, eyes on Kasdan. After a long moment, he asked, "What stake do you have in helping us? What will you gain from killing this wizard and helping us defeat the Tuatha?"
"There is no need for you to be concerned with that," Kasdan answered, his voice tight. "It is enough to say that he has caused great harm to the country in which I was born. To say more would only confuse you. I have not asked why you are at war with the Tuatha, as that is your affair and immaterial to me. I ask for nothing in return for helping you except your assistance in destroying this man. Let us agree that we will form a mutually beneficial alliance and leave it there."
Eochaid leaned back in his chair and regarded the other man thoughtfully. "It sounds fair enough. But before I agree to your request I must see for myself that you have weapons that can give us victory. If you cannot do this, my guards will escort you out of my village." He glanced at his men, who nodded their agreement.
Kasdan stood up, towering over them. "I will comply with your request, but know this: It may cost the life of one of your warriors."
Eochaid was silent for a long moment. It was not in his nature to sacrifice a member of his race except in war. The Fir Bolg had no gods that demanded blood as an offering of appeasement, so human and animal sacrifice had no meaning for him. Finally he said, "I do not understand why proof of your weapons must result in the death of a warrior."
"Can you demonstrate that a sword thrust to the heart will kill without taking a life to prove it?" Kasdan replied.
The king gave him a guarded stare, then said. "I will do as you ask, but if you betray my trust, it is you who will die."
"Agreed," Kasdan said. He squared his shoulders, standing very straight. "Bring me a warrior armed with a spear. Take care that he is one of your best fighters."
Eochaid leaned toward one of his men and said, "Go bring Sreng and his brothers to me. We will wait outside in the street."
The man departed, and they all went out into the morning sunlight. Within a few minutes he returned with three other men, all carrying shields and javelins. One of them, a slender man, clean-shaven, with light brown hair, approached and said, "You sent for us, Eochaid?" He was taller than his brothers and had piercing blue eyes. He wore a sleeveless deerskin vest decorated on each breast with tiny red beads that formed endless spirals. His matching pants were similarly decorated with beads running along the outer seams. Sinewy muscles ran the length of his arms.
The king nodded and said, "Yes, Sreng. This man," he pointed to Kasdan, "will conduct a demonstration with a weapon that he says can give us victory over the Tuatha. I want you to follow his instructions." He turned to Kasdan and said in a proud tone, "This is Sreng, my champion."
Sreng gave Kasdan a penetrating look, then said to Eochaid, "Who is this man, sire? I have never seen such garments as those," he pointed to Kasdan's jacket and pants.
"He is from a country beyond the sea. That is all we know for the present."
"What do you want us to do?" he asked Kasdan.
Kasdan pointed down the street, where a number of people milled about. "Have one of your brothers clear those people out of the way. When that is done, I want you to throw your javelin down the street as far as you can."
Sreng looked puzzled but followed Kasdan's orders. When the street was clear, he handed his shield to a bystander and took his javelin in his right hand. He looked at Eochaid, who nodded. Taking a few steps backward, Sreng balanced the javelin, ran forward to gain momentum and hurled it with all his might.
The weapon sailed through the air in a high arc, landing point first in the ground, two hundred and eighty feet away. It was a mighty throw, and Sreng grinned. His brothers cheered and applauded. He had earned the position of King's Champion by his achievements in battle and was by far the bravest and best fighter among the Fir Bolg.
Kasdan smiled genially and said, "A mighty throw!" He turned to the king. "Tell me, Eochaid, would you consider Sreng's throw better than any that could have been made by your average warrior?"
Eochaid laughed. "Average? It is far better than any man I know!" he bragged.
"Just so," Kasdan observed. He turned to Sreng and his two brothers, Renga and Trelan. "Now, Sreng, I want you and your brothers to walk to where the javelin landed but do not remove it from the ground. When you have reached the spot, walk twenty paces beyond it and stand beside one another, facing me."
Sreng shrugged. He and his brothers did as Kasdan directed. When they reached the designated spot, they turned toward the stranger. Trelan reached out and patted his older brother on the back, smiling at him in admiration.
Kasdan stood looking toward the three men for a few seconds then said, "Now, Eochaid, behold my powers." He removed the big revolver from its holster and stood facing the trio, three hundred and forty feet away. He cocked the weapon and turned slightly to his right, aiming it downrange. A trained shooter, he cupped the weapon's butt in the palm of his left hand and wrapped his fingers around the back of the other hand. When he was set, he aimed at a spot just below the throat of the man standing to Sreng's left. He took a deep breath and exhaled half of it. Holding the rest, he began squeezing the trigger.
The explosion was deafening. Sreng's brother, Trelan, pitched backward and died instantly as the bullet ripped through his chest, destroying half his heart. Eochaid and the other men jumped back and crouched defensively. The onlookers standing along the street fled into their houses. In a matter of seconds the street was deserted.
Sreng and his remaining brother recovered quickly from their shock. Sreng knelt beside his fallen brother and cradled him in his arms. Blood from his ruptured heart soaked the front of his shirt. The dead eyes stared at the blue sky, their light gone forever.
Tears welled in Sreng's eyes. He looked at Kasdan standing at the
other end of the street. His lower lip trembled with rage.
Eochaid and his advisors, having overcome their fear, stood staring at the revolver in Kasdan's hand. "I believe you can do as you say, stranger. Never before have I witnessed such power," the king said in a quiet voice. "It shall be as you ask. I will assign three warriors to assist you in destroying the wizard. And when that task is completed, I expect delivery of the weapons. How long will you need?" He reached out to touch the revolver, but Kasdan pulled it away.
"You must not handle the gun, Eochaid, until you have been trained in its use. To do so might result in your death." He holstered the revolver and buttoned his coat over it.
Sreng stood up and started toward where Kasdan and Eochaid were standing. His remaining brother, Renga, followed close on his heels. As they passed the javelin, Sreng snatched it up and twirled the pointed end toward the distant men.
Eochaid could see the cold expression on Sreng's face as he strode toward them. If he did not intervene, his champion would undoubtedly kill the man who had just murdered his brother. He regretted that Trelan's life had been taken, but it could not be avoided. He would have to convince Sreng that his sacrifice was not in vain and tell him of the great rewards that would come to the Fir Bolg in his brother's name. He walked away from the others and met Sreng twenty feet away.
The king was taller and more brawny than Sreng, hence was able to block his progress toward Kasdan. He spread his arms wide to prevent the other man from going around him. "I know how you must feel, Sreng, but before you do anything you will later regret, let me ask you one question," he said, a tortured expression on his face.
Sreng's eyes narrowed as he looked at his king. "What is it?" he hissed between clenched teeth.
"You and your brothers have proven yourselves in battle many times. You have always followed my orders without fail, even though you knew your lives might be forfeit. Are you willing to do so again, even though we are not now in battle?" Eochaid asked.
"Of course, but…"