The Ban Sidhe Part III

The conclusion of Ciarin and the Death Maiden:

All the magical creatures of the realm, filled with grief for the sufferings of the world, came across the northern seas to the cloud tops where the Ban Sidhe reposed.

Great-armed Goibniu, master smith of Faerie implored her to loose her ghastly shriek. Ogma the sun-faced pleaded the same. In Dagda, the wise and ancient All Father, flew with urgency to the refuge of the rebel spirit. The deceit of the Fear Dearg himself lapsed, and the red trickster joined in the beseeching.

The calls went unheeded.

In time even the Morrigan made her way to the frigid abode. Feared and hated no less than the Ban Sidhe herself, it was to her, finally that the others turned for a final plea.

She came upon her dark chariot, drawn by twin ravens with breath of fire, and though a horrific sight, the Morrigan was surprised to find the Ban Sidhe pleased at her arrival.

"Long has it been," the Morrigan began.

"Yes, not since the glorious slaughter at Aran. Many brave men followed my call to the darkness that day," the Ban Sidhe answered.

The ghost of Ciarin sat beside her upon the cloud, a phantom consort to a spectral queen.

"Even greater agony now menaces,” the Morrigan said. “Lugh's anger ravages the isles, and legions of the dead walk among the living. Druids invoke our aid, but we are left helpless. Even I am rendered useless, forced to ignore the prayers of those men upon the fields who battle without end.

"I implore you, as all our kind have done before me, surrender the soul of this man. Quiet the fury of maddened Lugh!"

The Ban Sidhe remained unmoved. She clung ever harder to the wraith that had been Ciarin mac Ruaidhri.

"Lugh has heard me. I hold sway over the gates of the dead. He may rage for all time, but only I can open them.

"Long have I served him with never a waver in my devotion. Yet now, that I wish one soul spared, he curses the world? No, Queen of War, I shall not lead a single soul to the abyss."

Fire-eyed Morrigan could find no words to reply. A deep voice spoke instead. It was Ciarin himself.

"Queen of Battle, many times I invoked your aid," the ghost said. He raised his phantom hand as the Morrigan turned to hear him. "Now my beloved Ban Sidhe gives me refuge from death itself. Yet the world suffers for my stay, as all the gods of Faerie have here attested.

"Perhaps I should go. Perhaps I should fade into the dim, else there be no world for us to remain in."

For a moment, silence reigned. The wicked War-Goddess and the Herald of Death reflected upon his words. Finally, the Ban Sidhe answered.

"Perhaps you are correct Ciarin. Lugh will only be satisfied when I open the way to the darkness. So I will do so."


The dawn of the day following was nothing so much as a herald of horror.

Fractured sunbeams fell across a tormented Erin. The stench of rotting flesh pervaded the wind, even spreading through the mist of Faerie, though Lugh Samildanach remained unmoved.
The Morrigan returned from the north seas with only the cryptic word of the death maiden. She called upon the lords of the mist to gather, the Morrigan told them, upon the Ulster field where Ciarin had fallen many months before. There, the Ban Sidhe would appear.

The rising of the sun soon came and passed, and the gods began to grow restless.
Then, a shriek split the morning like thunder. It quaked the hills with frightful echoes. Beneath them, the gods watched a black chasm tear open the field. Above them, the screeching form of the Ban Sidhe hurled out of the clouds.

"Lugh Samildanach, Lord of Faerie! By my scream the gates to the abyss have opened, and here Ciarin, son of the Red King stands ready to enter," the Ban Sidhe proclaimed.

Her voice grated upon even Lugh's own ears. He was a moment before answering.

"Well and good that you have come to realize my authority," the red-bearded god said.

Ciarin did stand ready at the dark gates, jaws of sundered stone and mud gaping before him. But as he began to step toward the chasm, the Ban Sidhe remained beside him. Arm-in-arm.

Brigit gasped. The Morrigan cried out.

"She means to enter with him!" the Leanan exclaimed.

Lugh sneered.

“Cease this folly! None may ever return from the land of the dead, mortal or otherwise!" he roared.

The Ban Sidhe and her companion wraith ignored him. They continued to edge closer to the caverns of Hell.

"If you call it folly then my efforts have indeed been in vain, for you still fail to understand what I asked of you," the Ban Sidhe said.

She spoke amid a swirl of wind, the screams of the dead churning all around her as she moved closer to the darkness. The summoned immortals watched one of their own reach out for the place of all gloom.

Finally, Lugh sighed, and the red beard’s breath brought pause to all things.

"You would do this just to be with Ciarin, son of the Red King?" he asked.

The Ban Sidhe stared him down.

"I will enter and close the gates behind me. I will have Ciarin mac Ruaidhri in the land of the dead if not in the land of the living," she replied.

Ciarin's own spear rested in her hands.

Again, Lugh frowned and did not speak. His all-seeing eyes turned to the face of ageless Brigit, whose counsel now echoed in his heart.

"Perhaps I have been wrong," he said. "Perhaps you are so perfect in the love of death that you would bring the world to its knees by your devotion. Perhaps I have been blind."

The Ban Sidhe and Ciarin halted, poised at the precipice of the smoldering maw.

"Noble sentiment Lugh, but words do me little good. Ciarin remains a ghost."

Again, Lugh met the gaze of Queen Brigit, and the eyes of heaven now looked upon him.

"Very well. Ciarin, son of the Red King is dead, and I did slay him. For that I do regret, though after such time has passed I cannot restore him. Yet your struggle has been brave, and for that I offer a concession."

As the host of Faerie watched, Lugh Samildanach came down to the world. He laid his hands upon Ciarin.

"Ciarin mac Ruaidhri, so loved by the spirit of death, I raise you up to the skies, and free you from mortal bonds. Join with your Ban Sidhe, not as a ghost, but as a true immortal. May you both herald the dead."

The Ban Sidhe smiled her ghastly grin, and Ciarin joined her in eerie mirth. Away they took then from the other gods and spirits, to ply their lethal trade for ever after.

So it was from that day onward, that the people of old Ireland came to know a second voice from the darkness, the twin callings of death from the Ban Sidhe and her eternal love.