A Samhain Story

A Samhain Story
By Robert Camp

It was the last day of the old year. All throughout the bailey of Beagcnoc last minute preparations were being made for the new year. These preparations were not for some great celebration like those held today. They were for Oidhche Shamhna—the holiday we call Halloween.

As the people hurried about, a storm began to roll in from the Southwest. The sky began to darken seeming to almost threaten the hill-fort town. The dark and cloudy sky was an ill omen to the people who busily rushed around. Even the druids had noticed it and had convened earlier than they traditionally had met. The severe storm was a great concern to most people, but not quite all.

Two young men left the enclosure of the town’s thatched dwellings. They walked with a purpose, but in a sneaky way. Dressed in animal skins they hurried along, each with a small bundle. It was as if they were headed somewhere they should not be going.

“This is great Iain! With your father gone we can go out earlier!” exclaimed the boy in the front.

The second boy slowly nodded and looked at the dreary sky above. “Do you really think it is a good idea to miss the ceilidh for this?” answered Iain.

“Oh that’s just a silly party, nothing more than a superstitious gathering.”

Iain did not seem to be so sure. “Seumas, what about the stories?”

The first boy, or Seumas, stopped and turned around to face Iain. “You mean the Marbh Arm, the Dead Army?” he asked, puzzled at his friend. Surely Iain was not afraid. In all of the thirteen years they had been alive Seumas had never seen Iain scared. Not until now.

Slowly Iain nodded again, speechless.

They made their way into the forest and scuffled along as the brush around the trail grew more densely. This trail was little used, and for good reason. It led to the hill where a great battle had been fought many years earlier. An invading army of Roman soldiers had been completely wiped out by the local tribes there. Everyone knew the Marbh Arm visited the place on Samhain.

Seumas looked back to the village where the fires were already being put out for the evening. He could see the great circle where the sacred druidic fire was kept. The clan chieftain and high druid—his and Iain’s fathers—were probably already there. No one knew that the two boys had left the hill fort. Seumas almost decided to go back to the village, but then changed his mind. “Lets go, we’ll be okay,” he said, and began walking up the path.

* * * * *
Around the druidic fire, the ceremony was well under way. Matthias, the high druid, had just finished the first part of the ceremony and was awaiting the approach of the clan chieftain. Domnall, Seumas’ father, came forward with the great sword of Daghdha. It was the sword of the Good God, made to protect the people of Beagcnoc.

Matthias gently lifted the sword from Domnall’s arms and brought the blade to rest in the sacred fire. The hilt began to hum with a life of its own and black smoke began to waft from the flames. A form began to take shape in the flames. “Your sons are in danger from the Marbh Arm,” it spoke and then dissipated. The sons of the chieftain and high druid were in trouble, an ill omen for the year.

* * * * *
High on the path the two boys struggled for hours through the mud and rain. Darkness enveloped them and they could not see through the storm. They knew they were getting close to the hill, but were now completely lost. Off to the left a faint light appeared and the boys began to trudge towards its source.

“This is foolishness,” Seumas thought to himself. “It is my pride and foolishness that brought us here.” He finished almost out loud. “I’m sorry Iain,” he sputtered, but the words were lost in the storm.

They had almost reached the light when Iain slipped down a small bank into a stream. The muddy bank, unseen by the boys, gave way under his weight. His scream told Seumas that he had landed badly and could be seriously hurt. As Seumas looked for a way to get down the embankment to Iain, he noticed shadows moving towards him from the source of the light. Someone else had heard the scream and was coming this way.

“Help me!” he cried. “My friend has fallen…” The words caught in his throat as fear gripped his chest. Seumas could hardly breathe as he saw the three men walking towards him. They were Roman soldiers, wraiths of the Marbh Arm. They were coming for him, their forms almost lost in the darkness of the storm.

Seumas fell to his knees in the mud as fear constricted his breath. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He was not able to do any thing but kneel and sob trying to inhale elusive breaths. The wraiths had almost closed the distance to him and leveled their spears. His costume of skins had not fooled these dead men. They were coming for him.

Suddenly something struck one of the soldiers. Seumas realized that it was a rock the size of his hand. It was followed by another slightly larger rock that struck another wraith. I dawned on him that these rocks were coming from below the bank. Iain had seen his friend in trouble and was picking up rocks from the streambed to hurl against the soldiers.

Seumas was released from his fear and began to run towards the bank. He leaped over the edge and landed in the icy cold water. With the storm, the stream had become a raging torrent and it began to sweep Seumas downstream. Iain grabbed at him and almost held the smaller boy, but the current was too strong and swept them both under water.

Even though the current quickly swept the boys along, they could see the wraiths following on the shore. The slackening rain gave the boys a better view of the area around them. They could now see that they had almost reached the summit of the hill where the soldiers of the Marbh Arm were known to reside. They could also see that there were more than three wraiths after them now. The entire forest was filled with the legion of dead Roman soldiers.

Seumas and Iain finally ground to a halt on a sandbar in the middle of the river. They were now completely surrounded by the Marbh Arm. The soldiers formed up and began to close on the unfortunate youths. Battered and bruised, the boys began to fish for rocks to throw as weapons. Both boys knew rocks were not the most effective against the shields and armor worn by the wraith warriors.

The phalanx of shadow warriors stopped at the edge of the stream. Completely encircled on both sides of the river, the two boys stood in amazement as one lone warrior came forward to face them. Seumas looked for an escape route but realized Iain was hobbling badly on his foot and could not run. Seumas would not leave his friend; they would have to stand and fight.

Armed only with their rocks, the friends began to pelt the advancing wraith. It broke into a gliding run and crashed into the boys. Seumas was able to recover his balance and stay on his feet. Iain was not so fortunate. The wraith had him pinned under one leg and was holding him under the water. It raised his spear to strike Iain through the chest. Seumas ran and threw himself into the creature and both smashed into the freezing water. He felt a sting in his shoulder as he went under.

Tangled with the soldier, Seumas struggled to break through the water’s surface for air. Dead as it was, the wraith needed no air and held him under water with its bulky armor. Struggling to break free, Seumas’ hand closed about something metal. He realized that it was the hilt of the wraith’s short sword and pulled it free from the scabbard. With his last ounce of strength he thrust upward with the blade. A scream broke from under the water as horrible as the creature it came from. The great weight holding Seumas under the water was gone.

Iain was now pulling Seumas above the water. A bright light directly in front of him from an unknown source blinded Seumas. Strong arms pulled him clear from the water. All around him he could see the men of his village locked in battle with the wraiths. Matthias the high druid, led them, holding aloft the great sword of Daghdha. The sword shone with a fury that held the Marbh Arm at bay. They could not abide it’s bright light.

The sun peaked over the horizon and the wraiths vanished. With the new day their power was gone and even their armor disappeared. The only exception was the sword that Seumas still held.

“You silly boy!” Domnall said as he shook his son. “You acted so recklessly! Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Matthias placed his hand on Domnall and stilled his fury. “The boys have been through enough tonight,” he soothed. “Your son is injured. We should get him back to the hill fort.” Domnall nodded, the fury fading from his face. The men began to march back to town with the two boys. It was then that Seumas realized that he was still holding the sword.

“What of this?” he asked Matthias. The druid looked at the sword for a moment and back to the boy.

“Keep it as a reminder of what you have learned this night.”