Legends of the Seven Ancients

Ruadan, The First

As written by Lorćan, Filí don Tuatha de Danann

       
Once there was a great warrior-magician whose name was Ruadan. To know a man, you must know his story, and all the stories of men begin with their mothers…

Ruadan was the son of magician-healer Brigid and warrior-prince Bres.

Brigid was born the daughter of Dagda, all-father to the Tuatha de Danann, and of Morrigu, the crow queen. Bres was born the son of Fomhoire prince Elatha and of Tuatha de Danann princess Eriu. So, the families bound together their children so that earth and sea magic might rule as one.

The Fomhoire were of the night. They were cunning warriors who knew the secrets of sea magic. Some called them deamhan.

The Tuatha de Danann were of the day. They were wise magicians who had mastered earth magic. Some called them sidhe.

Many believed Bres would bring peace to the troubled nations. When he became of age, he married Brigid to solidify his bond with the Tuatha de Danann. In time, he was made King of Eire.

But Bres was a foolish ruler, ignorant of his people’s suffering and unjust in his judgments. The sons of Tuatha de Danann rose up against him and took his crown, banishing him. In defeat, Bres returned to his father’s kingdom.

Brigid sought to soothe her husband’s wounded ego. “Why does a prince of the Fomhoire need to rule an island?” she asked of him. “You are Elatha’s son! Will you not be king of a continent?”

Yet, Bres was too prideful to turn away from the dishonor shown to him by the Tuatha de Danann, no matter how deserved. He vowed to take back what had been taken from him and to once again rule Eire.

Brigid wanted peace between the Fomhoire and the Tuatha de Danann. Without her husband’s knowledge, she sought her mother’s council. Morrigu foresaw the future and told her daughter the truth: The Tuatha de Danann would triumph over the Fomhoire, but not before Brigid lost her husband and their sons, Ruadan, Iuchar, and Uar.

“If Bres wishes to die in a war of his own making, I cannot stop him,” said Brigid. “But he will not have my sons!”

Brigid extracted a blood oath from Bres that he would not send their sons to war until they wed and sired children. Brigid hoped that the war would end before the oath’s conditions could be met, but as their sons grew into manhood, the battle for the Isle of Eire raged on.

Though a mother may hope no harm befalls her children, Brigid was not a fool. Her father had taught her the skill of smithing gold, and so she forged two half-swords made of the precious metal. The handles were bejeweled with precious stones and the blades enchanted with sidhe magic. Never had such weapons been seen by either Fomhoire or Tuatha de Danann.

When their eldest son, Ruadan, celebrated his sixteenth year, Brigid gifted him with the swords. And Bres gifted him with a Fomhoire bride whose name was Aine.

Afraid Ruadan would impregnate his young wife and thus fulfill the blood oath, Brigid brewed an infertility potion. Every eve, she put the potion into the Aine’s tea and sat with her, chatting, until every drop was drained. For twelve moons, no children were born.

Bres grew impatient with his eldest son’s lack of heirs. He asked the crow queen for fertility magic, that Ruadan might father a child. But Morrigu, who prospered in turmoil and ruin, offered not a spell, but a secret: She revealed her daughter’s treachery to Bres.

Infuriated by the duplicity of his wife, Bres secreted away Iuchar and Uar in a mountain fortress, telling Brigid that the boys would be educated by holy men. Instead, his sons were given into the care of the best Fomhoire warriors, who taught them every needful thing about war.

Another twelve moons passed. Now, Iuchar and Uar were old enough to wed and Bres let them each pick a bride from twenty virgins stolen from the Tuatha de Danann. Within a cycle, the women bore their husbands each a daughter. 

Triumphant, Bres returned home with Iuchar, Uar, their wives, and their daughters. Grief-stricken by Bres’s sedition, Brigid entered her rooms and wept for a sennight, for now Morrigu’s prediction about her children’s fates would come to pass.

Ruadan’s wife fell into despair. Here, the lesser sons of Bres had fathered children on enemy women, and yet she remained childless. Aine refused to eat and to drink and took to her bed, allowing only the comfort of her husband. Without the potion working its magic on her womb, she soon conceived. Ruadan would not leave his wife to bear their children alone and so, Bres, Ruadan, Iuchar, and Uar spent the next nine moons planning campaigns against the Tuatha de Danann.

The Tuatha de Danann had a magical well that instantly healed their warriors so long as they had not suffered a mortal blow. Created by a goldsmith named Goibniu, the well was safe-guarded by spells and men alike. “Kill the builder of the well,” said Bres to his sons, “and destroy its magic … and the Tuatha de Danann will fall.”

So it came to pass that Aine bore twin boys, Padriag and Lorćan. Ruadan wept with joy and placed a blessing on his sons, that they should have long, happy lives. Then he and his brothers sailed to the Isle of Eire to fulfill his father’s plan and his grandmother’s prophecy.

The brothers used stealth and cunning to break through the defenses of their enemy. While Iuchar and Uar battled those that guarded the well, Ruadan stabbed Goibniu with the fae swords. But Goibniu, though mortally wounded, thrust his spear into Ruadan’s chest and felled the warrior.

Iuchar and Uar retrieved their brother and bade their finest warriors to take him home so that Brigid might heal him. When they returned to finish the task set upon them by their father, they were captured and killed. The Tuatha de Danann, fearful the brothers might live again should sea or earth touch them and invigorate their magic, cut the bodies into eight pieces and burned them at eight separate locations on the Isle of Eire so that they might never be resurrected.

Near death, Ruadan arrived in his homeland and was taken to his mother. She used all her magic and healing arts, but could not save her son. The very same night Ruadan breathed his last, Brigid received word of the fates of Iuchar and Uar. She fell to her knees and wailed with such sorrow, that anyone who heard the sounds knew a mother’s heart had been rent from her. It is said that Brigid was the first to keen and ever since, so does any woman who suffers the loss of her loved ones.

Morrigu heard the keening of her daughter, so she turned into a crow and flew to the land of the Fomhoire. Though the dark queen craved chaos over tranquility and war over peace, she felt pity for her daughter and offered one chance for Brigid to regain her son.

“Give Ruadan a cup of my blood, but be warned! When he awakes, he will not live as a man, but as a deamhan fola. He will never again walk in the light. He will not consume food or drink, but shall siphon the blood of the living. Neither will he have breath nor beat of heart. Never will he sire another child by his own seed.”

“Is there no good to be wrought then, mother?”

“Where there is dark, there is also light. Ruadan will never age. He will heal from even the most grievous of wounds. He will know the thoughts of those he loves. And he will be a warrior none can defeat. He is of the Fomhoire and of the Tuatha de Danann and those skills and magic will always be his to wield.”

So blinded by grief was Brigid, so badly did she want her son to live again, that she agreed to her mother’s terms. But still, Morrigu was not satisfied.

“Should Ruadan drain a man and replenish him with tainted blood, he shall Turn. Your son will create others and he will rule a master race long after all whom you know and love turn to dust and ash. Even knowing this, will you still give him my blood to drink?”

And again, Brigid agreed without hesitation. Morrigu cut her wrist and bled into a silver goblet. Brigid lifted her son’s head, opened his mouth, and poured every drop of her mother’s blood into him.

When Ruadan awoke, he was deamhan fola.

Bres, devastated by the loss of his sons, went himself to the Isle of Eire to wreak vengeance on his enemy, but he, too, was killed. Finally, the Tuatha de Danann triumphed over the Fomhoire, and there came to pass an uneasy peace between their peoples.

But Aine was frightened of the creature her husband had become and refuted him, calling him demon and eater of flesh. She plotted to kill herself and their infant sons from the Fomhoire kingdom, but Ruadan knew her thoughts and stopped her. He wished only happiness for his family and so, he bartered with Aine. If she returned with his mother to the Isle of Eire and raised their sons as Tuatha de Danann, he would leave them alone for all time.

For twenty-five cycles, Ruadan roamed the Earth to search for his place in it. It is said that he kept journals of his travels and collected great treasures and knowledge. It is also said that he Turned six others in different lands, creating the seeds of the master race foretold by his grandmother.

Then, because he longed to see his family, he broke his promise to Aine and went to the Isle of Eire to visit his sons. He found that Aine had married a fisherman and she lived, if not happily, at least securely, in a little cottage near the sea. Her mind had suffered greatly since their parting, and it had been his mother Brigid, immortal sidhe, who’d kept watch over his sons.

Padriag lived on a simple farm with his wife and their three children. Lorćan had a more spiritual and thoughtful nature and became a draoi-filí. His sons knew that Ruadan was deamhan fola, but they were not afraid, and welcomed him.

When Aine discovered Ruadan had returned, her sanity completely gave way. She feared his monstrous nature, and she told her husband, who was a suspicious and mean-spirited sort, about the deamhan fola and how it visited her son’s farm every eve. One afternoon, the husband whiled away the hours drinking with his friends and telling them Aine’s stories of the deamhan fola. Made brave by the drink, they went to Padriag’s farm to destroy the creature.

Because the men were drunk and riled up by their fear, they dragged out all who were in the house. They burned the building to the ground and, finding no deamhan fola, decided Ruadan had taken the guise of a human. The villagers tortured Padraig until he collapsed, unconscious. Then the angry villagers killed his wife and children.

When Aine learned what her husband had done, she cursed him and the village, then weeping, threw herself off the cliffs.

Ruadan awoke from his rest and found the destruction of his son’s farm and family. As his son passed from the mortal realm, Ruadan drained him, and tearing open the vein in his own neck, forced his son to drink his tainted blood. And so, Padraig was Turned.

Ruadan took Padraig to the cave where Lorćan lived and bid him to care for his brother. He instructed Lorćan on the ways of the deamhan fola, and warned him that his brother was no longer a man, but a creature destined to walk only in the night.

But Lorćan did not heed his father’s warnings. When Padriag awoke, he was mad with grief and hunger. He tore open his brother’s neck and drained him ’til the point of death. When he realized what he’d done, Padraig saved Lorćan in the same manner Ruadan had saved him.

Now both of Ruadan’s sons were deamhan fola.

Ruadan took his sons from the land of the Tuatha de Danann. He summoned his first six Turn-bloods to a meeting, and they created the Council of Ancients. The Council labored to create laws for their people and bound all deamhan fola with magic and oath to uphold these laws. Those who broke faith with their Families faced banishment … or death.

And so it was that Brigid’s son fulfilled her mother’s prophecy.

He was the creator of the deamhan fola.

He was ruler over all.

He was Ruadan the First.

Koschei, the Second

As written by Lorcan, Filí don Tuatha de Danann

It was said that Koschei the Deathless kidnapped women from their beds and killed men with only his stare. Others told of a skeletal man with black hair and wild eyes that stole brides from their husbands on wedding nights. Some said that his soul was hidden inside an egg stored in a chest without a key. And there were those who said that Koschei was merely a ghost, a harbinger of bad luck.

But Koschei was not a ghost, a kidnapper, or a soulless creature.

He was deamhan fola.

After Ruadan the First was banished by his wife, he traveled by boat to a cold and barren place far from the land of Eire. As his nature dictated, he drank the blood of mortal beings. Doing so was arduous because no victim was willing. Though Ruadan was clever and brave, he was unable to convince mortals that he was not a monster. In every village, he had to lay in wait for the unwary and take his sustenance by force. Soon, Ruadan gained a reputation as a strigoi mort—a vampire.

Word spread quickly about the strigoi mort. Villagers and farmers begged their gods, their wise men, and their healers for protection, but though they lay herbs on their doorsills and curses around their houses, Ruadan was not affected. Superstition was not magic; and he knew the power, beauty, and truth of real magic.

One night, Ruadan attacked a farmer, who fought so fiercely Ruadan let him go. Though the vampire fled, he was relentlessly chased by the farmer and other terrified villagers. Forced to travel deeper and deeper into the craggy, snow-filled mountains, Ruadan subsisted on animal blood and slept in caves.

Three days passed. On the fourth evening, he discovered a small village tucked into the mountainside. Cold and hungry, he managed to subdue a young woman long enough to drink what he needed. But she was the favorite wife of a powerful wizard named Koschei. Vowing revenge, Koschei used his magic to track down Ruadan.

Koschei had a more fearsome reputation than even a strigoi mort. He was bone thin and wore only black robes. His hair was long and dark; his eyes as hard and green as jade. Through his magic and his psychic abilities, he coaxed from other villages food, entertainment, and companionship. Many people in the region feared Koschei and sent gifts to the dark wizard so that he would not leave his mountain home. And so, Koschei had all that he needed to live a comfortable life, including many wives, concubines, and children.

Ruadan was surprised to find himself at the mercy of a mere mortal. Koschei’s most powerful gift was the ability to glamour. Within moments, Koschei compelled Ruadan to tell all his secrets.

After hearing his enemy’s stories, Koschei revealed his own secret: He was dying. He told Ruadan that he feared that his village and his family were in jeopardy; that if he died, rival peoples would attack.

“They will not fear me as a ghost,” he said. “I will make a pact with you, demon. Give me immortal life and I will teach you my magic. I will show you how to draw a human to you, to drink, and to make him forget.”

Ruadan agreed, though he warned Koschei becoming a deamhan fola was a terrible risk. “I’ve never made another,” he said, “and this may end your life that much sooner.”

But Koschei was determined to become immortal. They agreed that he would teach Ruadan the magic first, should the transformation fail.

The bargain struck, Koschei spent every evening with Ruadan showing him the ways of the mind. He showed Ruadan how to alter his voice and how to create illusions. “People believe so easily,” he said. “Show them what they expect and they will not question you.”

After thirty days had passed, Ruadan had learned all that he could from the wizard. On the thirty-first day, Koschei said, “It is time for you to keep your promise.”

Ruadan drained his new friend of all blood. When Koschei breathed his last, Ruadan tore open his own wrist and pressed the bleeding wound against the man’s pale lips. His magicked blood flowed into the body of Koschei and soon the wizard awoke … as deamhan fola.

Koschei easily learned all the ways of the deamhan fola. Ruadan was pleased by the kindness of his friend and knew that Koschei would continue to bless those under his care.

Yet Ruadan was a restless soul and he wished to resume his travels. The night before Ruadan’s parting, a great celebration was held. Dancing, drinking, and feasting went on through the night.

In the wee hours, as everyone fell into drunken sleep, the village was savagely attacked.

Though Ruadan and Koschei combined their powers to fight the unknown invaders, nearly all of the villagers were slain and the buildings burned. Koschei tried to Turn his sons, his daughters, his favorite wives … but it seemed none could survive the change.

“Help me,” begged Koschei. “Save my children. Save my beloved wives.”

But even Ruadan’s attempts at Turning failed. All of Koschei’s wives died. One son and two daughters barely lived; Ruadan and Koschei escaped with them deep into the mountains. Koschei led them to a cave where he often stayed when hunting and they made the mortal survivors comfortable.

Koschei’s son had only seen ten winters. His daughter, Ina, was barely seventeen. Tritsu was nearly twenty, already married with daughters of her own.

All but these five souls perished that terrible night.

Koschei’s grief could not be contained. He begged Ruadan to turn his children into deamhan fola.

“Would you curse your son? He is but a boy. If you Turn him now, he will grow into manhood only in mind,” said Ruadan.

Tritsu pleaded to die. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without her children or her husband. Koschei held her hand and wept. “You will join your loved ones. This I promise, my daughter.”

As Koschei held death vigils over his son and eldest daughter, Ruadan tended the pretty Ina. As the dawn crept over the mountains, two mortals passed into the next realm and three survivors sought rest in the dank darkness of the cave.

The next evening, Koschei continued his vigil over the ailing Ina while Ruadan returned to the village. He buried the dead and burned everything else to the ground. He bespelled the area so that neither human nor beast would enter what had once been a happy place.

After the work was done and the spells cast, Ruadan returned to the cave.

Koschei was readying to leave. He knew of a powerful healer in another village. “I will take Ina to her and pray that my daughter lives.”

That evening, Ruadan and Koschei parted ways.

Another deamhan fola walked the Earth.

Koschei the second.

Koschei the Deathless.