Land of the Leprechaun

By Lance Kerrigan

In 3rd century Ireland, strife and war have torn apart the island of Eiru.

The fall of the Fianna and the subsequent collapse in prosperity have given rise to a new faith, determined to expel the pagan ways in favour of a new God. In a world where humans clash over power, Leprechauns are the last remaining warriors of the Sidibe.

After the heir to the Mumhan throne is murdered, twin brothers drag their kingdom into a conflict over which one will be the successor. With war drawing closer to their borders, can the new Mumhan king navigate the relationship between his volatile brother and the burdensome duty of kingship, while protecting the land of the Leprechaun from the humans?

A compelling fantasy adventure set in the Irish Dark Ages, 'Land of the Leprechaun' is the first book in Lance Kerrigan's Tales of the Eiru series of fantasy novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Jan 24, 2023

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

HUNTER HUNTED

Still and quiet. The leaves glisten in the light autumn breeze whilst the landscape is draped in a golden cloud of fog, illuminated by the beautiful sunrise through the half-bare branches. The forest floor is covered in a snow of browns, reds and yellows— leaves of similar shape, yet various sizes, much from a kindred species. Suspended over an idle stream, the fog thickens to the point that it almost camouflages a young deer slurping from the mirror-like surface. His breath mist swirls slowly before immersing into the fog. Perfect tranquility for any mammal to enjoy the privacy of a crisp pre-winter morning, with the only sounds of a single robin chirping its post-dawn chorus on a nearby branch. Nearby undergrowth rustles and echoes across the forest, capturing the undivided attention of a now prudent buck glaring at its surroundings. Passively he returns his attention to the water.

WOOSH! Crack!

An arrow pierces the bark of a nearby birch, inches from a now startled deer, who wastes no time scarping off into the woods. His natural response is almost always flight, not fight.

Fuck! Don’ stand gawping…CHARGE!

A group of men storm from the bushes with Bowes chasing the path of the jolting deer. The tranquility of the forest is lost in the thunders of shouts, cheers and scuffling. Trampling along a swampy surface creates a reverse monsoon of mud and water, flying in every direction, colliding from head to toe, painting their bodies like a canvas. But this only adds to the gratification of the chase.

How can they expect to catch up, two legs against four? But these are not ordinary men; they are barely taller than an infant. Their tiny heads are barely visible above the extended growth of reddish-green ferns. Too mature, too masculine to be children, yet too short to be adults. Despite their size, they run at an accelerated pace, not seen in anything human. Their little legs a blur, only visible when strides are knocked out of sync with a hop and a slip. This visibility increases as they become weighted down by saturated woolen green garments now darkening with mud splashes. One clumsy younger-looking redhead trips on an entangled cluster of heather and crashes into the spongey earth, sinking slightly. His expression is nauseating, fretting, while his comrades, dodge, jump and trample over him, leaving him further behind in the action. Pulling himself together, he scrambles to his feet and waddles on and reversing his glumly frown, he bolts forward, catching pace in a blur. Unlike other fairies, these creatures walk like humans, talk like humans and live almost like humans. The perks of leprechaun are speed and stealth, making the hunt all thrill, not a necessity.

Sweeping through the wilderness, they charge proud and brave, true hunters. Blinded by the rising sun directly in their path, they continue to move forward. The front runners smack branches out of their faces, catapulting them back against the next.

Suddenly everything around them is illuminated. Squinting hard, they come to a gliding halt, finding themselves in open pasture, the deer not too far, only a pace ahead, prancing for its life. Speed and sawtooth waving are its only defence. Perhaps effective on other carnivores, but for the leprechaun, merely a requirement for more strategic use of a bow and arrow. This zig-zag pattern might prove difficult if it were not so predictable that any experienced huntsman could, with confidence, see this as a near clean shot.

Wait! He’s mine, proclaims one of the men.

His superiority is demonstrated not only in his modulated voice but in his gracious prowl as he moves to the front of the group. Even under a layer of sweat and mud, his boyish good looks bare the hallmarks of a prince. Well-groomed and nourished, even his lavish emerald silk garments are not worse for wear. Standing straight, he sets his bow and focuses on his target. He’s confident without provocativeness, to the point that much of his flaunting is less about showing off and more about proving his worthiness to his companions. Despite being his subjects, some in his ranks regard his arrogance as the former. They take pleasure when he misses as the arrow shoots too far right, not even close to the intended target.

Shit, the prince mutters. He gasps in disbelief at yet another uncharacteristic miss. His subjects wonder whether they should laugh or rally. But this is not the only unusual behaviour on site. That of a black crow swoops over them, landing on a nearby tree. Keeping a discrete distance, it hawk-eyes the group to the point where the hunter may become the hunted. It caws loud enough to disrupt the prince’s third drawing. Just at launch, the arrow deliberately shifts direction.

Loosin’ yor touch Enda, blurts one of the men.

Watch your tongue, snaps the prince.

He becomes increasingly impatient before demanding everyone move forward as he hurries down the valley to reposition before the deer is lost to the forest. The crow follows, but swooping a little too close it is swished away by one of the men. The crow retreats to a nearby tree. Enda takes one sudden hold. Steadily positioning the nock against the bowstring, he pulls slowly. Rising the bow, he takes a deep, calm breath, eyes locked on his target. His bicep wobbles slightly before he forces it tight, then positions his line of sight along the shaft, fixated on the galloping prize. The atmosphere is tense, everyone holding their breath, frozen at the risk of generating a distracting tone. The only sound is the distant thump of the deer’s galloping hooves making brief contact with the ground, in sync with Enda’s heartbeat. A single drop of sweat trickles down his brow and sparkles in the sunlight. Enda releases the arrow. Cutting through the air, the head and fletch rotate. Everyone gasps. Feeling like an endless linger, eyes fixated on its trajectory. Then—

Hurray!

The crow, still surveying the commotion, flaps its wings and flies across the valley a little further towards the horizon. It is guided by a light breeze carrying the voices where a nearby settlement can pick up the faint sounds of celebration. The twins, on the high side of a ha-ha’ wall, lend an ear northwards.

Sounds like dinner’s caught, says Fionn casually while returning to their archery. Oisin prises an arrow from an elm log slice leaning against a stack of freshly cut timber. Fionn, in a ready-to-shot position, teases an attack.

Don’ you dare, Oisin snaps affectionately while dodging a half-heartedly fired arrow.

The twins possess a strong sibling bond, but they hold something more unique; being twins creates an even greater bond beyond any understanding. A single entity of two independent bodies. No one could mistake their striking similarity, possessing youthful, clean-cut faces. Their skin shines a healthy pale tone, typical of outdoor country boys on an island that experiences little summer. Their dark amber hair is the only feature that distinguishes them. Fionn wears his long, brushed to one side, covering half his face, a charming, bold look—a reflection of his personality.

On the other hand, Oisin’s is a more refined, neat cut for a modest character. These personalities exhibit openly in their body language. They both stand confident, but Fionn portrays a suave presence, with a cheeky smile and mysterious eyes. Oisin is a trustworthy presence with a toggled introvert expression. You can tell from his approachability and blue eyes he is someone who could warm even the coldest hearts with one wide smile.

Let’s see yea try hittin’ the trunk t’is time, taunts Fionn, demonstrating who is alpha, or at least acts as such. Despite the differences, they live, work, sleep and socialise as a pair rather than as individuals, experiencing every milestone together. To the world, they hold the perfect twin mystique and are dependent on each other for everything life sends their way.

On the horizon, a faint sight of the Huntsmen returning. This motivates the twins to join the gathering. A long guard of honour forms, stretching beyond the common area, past temporary craft stalls, to a beaten track leading in the direction of the huntsmen carrying their morning capture. A tradition to mark the opening of an annual harvest. The royal hunt is greeted by locals, guests and those who merely gather for the ‘Ceili, Ceol and Craic’. The carcass of the hunt paraded as a symbol of the combined achievement between all five clans of Eiru: The land of leprechauns.

Bells rang, and the masses cheered, signalling the day’s events had officially kicked off. Once within the timber-framed courtyard, people returned to their former distractions; the ordinary folk back to the excitement of street performances and entertainment, everything from cookery and crafts to storytelling and dancing. The sound of music complements the smell of Barmbrack and roasted pork filling the air.

Walking through the popup village, the twins glance at the dozens of entertainers performing mini-lightning enchantments with their Shillelaghs: a black wooden walking stick made of Blackthorn. Young leprechauns run around hidden under large white sheets as they chase the landing crows who peck scraps of food left unattended. Oisin is struck in the face by an apple peel. As it slides down his chest, he catches it before it hits the ground.

Sorry, giggles a young lady who had just tossed the peeling across her shoulder.

Oisin smiles, replying, "Think it’s an O."

She blushes and huddles with her friends.

Smooth! smirks Fionn

Don’t be ridiculous… can’t help how it lands, defends Oisin, but Fionn is unconvinced.

Yea…like some stupid apple peal can reveal the first letter of you future lover? argues Oisin.

Always have ta ‘let logic ruin magic’, moans Fionn.

But he had a point; Oisin held a sense of humour but always let his head rule his heart and reason lead his imagination.

The festival is in full swing with turnips carved into scary faces and enchanted to glow from the inside.

Horrid lookin’ things, spats Fionn.

Could do a last year on it, Oisin Entices.

Enchant the castle’s turnip to bite… ha! It chased Enda all evening… T’was hilarious, brags Fionn, then his tone drops as he is reminded of his former lover. A smile is replaced with a heartbroken expression that only encourages Oisin to roll his eyes. Not completely heartless, Oisin puts an arm causally around his melancholic brother and changes the subject, rekindling past pranks and trickery.

Adult leprechauns play ritualistic activities, like apple bobbing in barrels of water or dropping egg white to reveal their future number of children. The existing children were busy carrying large sacks full of various foods collected from huts around the campsite, all gathered in preparation for a collective feast. The atmosphere was electric, and the weather beautifully mild and dry for the time of year. This was going to be the best Samhain yet.

CHAPTER TWO

MOONLIGHT MURDER

The sun slowly sets, falling below the treetops, shining amber across the popup village, illuminating the walls gold. The feast continues into the night as a super-moon climbs higher in the southward sky. The sounds of drunken adults replace children's laughter. The air fills with a smell of smoke from the dying flames of the cooking quarters, embers still crackling. These sounds are overpowered by music and dancing. Everyone makes the most of the remaining brightness of this perfect mild evening. But the camp music can't escape the hum of a larger Ceili within the fort. The exclusive feast for the royal clans of Eiru.

The large stone hall with its low thatch roof is alive with voices and music. The walls are decorated sparingly with carved wood and fabric. The room's centrepiece is a roaring fire whose flames stretch high into the chimney hole above. Directly across, a large box-like window overlooks the valley. The moon shines brightly into the hall, adding a sinister pale completion to those closest. A contrast to the others illuminated by a healthy glow from the countless candles filling every nook and cranny of the hall. Along the side rests two rows of long tables immersed in loaves of bread, fruits, vegetables, soups, pies and most importantly, ceramic bottles of whiskeys; variations from across the five kingdoms.

The kingdom of 'Ulaidh' located in the far north, is ruled by the O'Neil clan, a group of aggressive leprechauns whose thirst for dominance makes them a constant liability. The southern kingdom of 'Mumhan' is governed by the O'Gara clan, a peaceful yet rancorous group who are exceptionally pugnacious. Both the domains Ulaidh and Mumhan are world powers within this five-kingdom island and naturally despise one another. Each generation carries on pre-justice from the last, going right back to 'Deireadh Maru', the final years of a multi-generational war between every clan in a fight for supremacy. Those times were exacerbated due to human exposure, mainly resulting from their neglect of discretion. The leprechaun settlements hidden from human sighting in those dark times had become exposed. Defenceless to the greedy humans, many settlements lost their resources, and their residents were killed or captured by humans and leprechaun enemies. The latter would often leverage their capture for ransom. In the final decades of the war, thousands were lost, plummeting the population and wiping out countless clans, bringing leprechauns close to the brink of extinction.

The O'Neill and O'Gara clans were the largest leprechaun groups to survive and took power over the mangled lands. With little resources and hunted by humans, they were driven to the extreme ends of Eiru. Despite their extreme location, they continued a power struggle for generations towards the highly sacred regions of Tara and Uisneach which were ceremonial areas and a source of significant power.

Of course, being caught between Ulaidh and Mumhan made these regions extremely hostile. Over the decades, boundaries repeatedly shifted north and south, creating an unintentional region caught in a crisis of identity. The battles scorched the land and inevitability drew the attention of humans yet again. These locations fared worse in the sackings and crusades of native and foreign humans. However, it was the new age religion that took its toll. With Druids declining and the age of magic dying, it was handed to the leprechauns to act as guardians of the ancient power sources. Duty bound, they put aside their quarrels to protect their treasures from further attacks by the non-mystical folk. To protect the Hill of Tara from the humans, the kingdom of Mide was formed, creating the first peaceful co-existence between the two clans.

Depleted from the continued brutality of past battles, the remaining clans fled to the damp and isolated region far west. Benefiting from the Sionna river, their world's largest river which stretches along much of the eastern border, virtually cutting it off from the rest of Eiru. Its inaccessibility made for the perfect protection from both human and leprechaun invasions. Not that there was an imminent threat considering the dense forests and swampy land proved unattractive. Free from strife, a unique haven prospered, giving birth to the new kingdom of Connaught.

The Kingdom of Mide was an inspirational enterprise. It was the primary motivator in the rise of the Kingdom of Laighin. Notorious for their pugnacious attitudes, many in Mumhan wanted change. Struggling to tolerate the difference in ideology and interests, a large region broke free, declaring itself the independent Kingdom of Laighin. Both kingdoms kept close ties, and relations improved once they could live separate reigns.

However, Mide saw this division as a vulnerability that Ulaidh would gladly exploit. In fear of being a battleground yet again, they sought a union with Connaught and Laighin to combine their resources and defend themselves. They formed an alliance called the Trionaid, or three centres, to protect what is most precious to Eiru: peace, concealment and protection. Building an army, their combined forces outnumbered both Mumhan and Ulaidh. Defeating the Trionaid would be impossible without collaboration between the two clans, something neither would ever achieve. It was the perfect union to force peace in Eiru.

Mumhan and Ulaidh's inability to agree gave the Trionaid incredible power over Eiru without ever needing to lift a sword. The Trionaid unintentionally evolved into a mediator between Mumhan and Ulaidh, bringing about peace by force; achieving that which none of the hundreds of human kingdoms ever could— replacing anarchy with order.

The feast of Samhain was the perfect flagship tradition for all clans to celebrate this peace. It was always held at Uisneach in the Kingdom of Mide because of its centric position in their world. The point where each clan could meet. It was where blood spilt in the battles past and hands shook for unity. It would be the bridge at which all five clans would build the capital of Eiru.

The Samhain feast always begins with a hunt. A symbolic commemoration of the bloodshed of battles passed. Never failing to capture dinner, this prize deer acts as the perfect centrepiece for a collection of harvest goods sourced from each of the five kingdoms.

While waiting for dinner to begin, the clans mingle with a few pre-dinner drinks and dances, catching up with friends old and new. The 'young brigade' have other interests eying up a potential match of mutual affection; a trial for a future partner or a one-night romance.

The twins stand awkwardly at one corner. They stick together like glue, supporting each other in a world they have every right to be in but feel very isolated. That doesn't stop some distant relatives from approaching, making dry conversation, like squeezing blood from a stone. But they, too, feel similar awkwardness, an atmosphere created only by a small minority but reiterating just how fragile this peace really is.

Oisin glances around checking out the attractively dressed ladies as they pass by. While they stand in the crowd, Oisin is unsure if they glance back in flirtation or feel creeped out. He breaks eye contact at the moment of connection. Fionn, on the other hand, pensively stares only at one. A beautiful dark-haired girl on Enda's arm, he introduces his mannequin to senior royals and family members. Orlagh graciously greets and introduces herself to her superiors and elders, relishing the attention of both her new and existing families.

You’re not still pining over her? whispers Oisin rhetorical to a present in body Fionn who in mind couldn't be further a distance. Reminded of the love he once shared and the agreements arranged before either was old enough to speak… At least, so the story goes.

She doesn't even love him, slurs Fionn. Oisin responds with a long exhale, passively reiterating that they both knew this day could come. Returning to his previous mission, he takes a risky smile at a cute black-haired girl sitting alone on one of the benches.

There's plenty of fish to choose from. Here I go! Oisin slides away. Fionn is too distracted to notice his brother making an amateurish move. Sitting next to his lonely love interest, Oisin chats lightly and seems comfortable. But Oisin isn't fully invested. Glancing back over to Fionn, he's partly unsure of himself and in need of support. He feels guilty for leaving Fionn, concerned for his brother's likely behaviour, free of his cautious twin.

Orlagh is beautiful and worthy of her place as the future queen of Mumhan. In Fionn's speculation, reflected in Orlagh's body language between herself and Enda, conveys a too-perfect romantic posture. They hold each other stereotypically like a young couple about to be wed. Still, it's a forced position not naturally embraced, and her eyes speak the truth, especially when they meet Fionn's. She stares momentarily into what is clearly a path she would travel, given a choice. Still, she is the princess of a royal clan and has a duty like her mother before her. They both dislike this arrangement, and Enda isn't fully invested either. He too, cannot stop glancing over at the other tables hoping to make eye contact with his former flame. But this is how it's meant to be.

So you can’t be interferin’, Oisin warns as he strolls back up to Fionn.

What happen'd the black ‘n blue? Fionn moans.

Oh! You noticed, eh? Spoken for typically, Oisin groans.

They mingle amongst the various games played by the clans, like apple bobbing. At the same time, an older figure fascinates the youngsters with tales from mythology, mixing her own past experiences with traditional superstition and a little acting to bring to life her story. Encouraging everyone to gather closer, her lanky body towers over her listeners, who sit cross-legged and huddled around her. Dressed in a long, dark green and blue dress, she uses its fabrics to enhance her words. Her tone, hand gestures and facial expressions drive the story as much as her words, modulated by candlelight…

Now I will tell you the tale of the modern leprechaun.

This particular story had captured Oisin's imagination since he was a child, and he couldn’t help but get pulled into the storyteller's performance.

"The beautiful Leanan sídhe of the Aos Sí took a human to be her lover, and she bore a baby boy named Àdhamh. When Far Darrig learnt Leanan was seeded by a mortal, he demanded the boy be slaughtered.

Leanan couldn't bring herself to kill her child, but fearing what Far Darrig would do, she abandoned Àdhamh to the mortal world. A shared faith for unwanted boys who threaten the sire's line.

Àdhamh lived his immortal life in solitude, becoming a shoemaker for the fairies. Over the centuries, Àdhamh accumulated a vast stockpile of gold which he hid in his cooking pot atop his hearth. But no amount of gold would fill the emptiness of his lonely life, and so Àdhamh took to drink and trickery.

One day Àdhamh attempted to have his wicked way with a powerful fairy. For this violation, she cursed him, taking away his immortality and that of the daughter he seeded. She presented him with his daughter to raise so he'd learn the pains from predator prowls the hard way.

Àdhamh named his daughter Aoibh and spent the rest of his mortal life protecting her from the beasts of the night. Aoibh, in time, gave birth to several children. Over time, the not-so-immortal Leprechaun as we know it today grew in numbers. Eventually forming the five kingdoms of Eiru."

The storyteller is met with claps, barely finishing her tale, and the kids of the group start darting questions her way. Before one can be answered, attention is drawn to the main door, where a trumpet proclaims the arrival of the four attending kings.

Finally… I'm starving, Fionn mutters, a general sentiment shared among the rest of the congregation. The Kings of Connacht & Laighin are the first to enter, followed by the host, King of Mide, joined by the King of Ulaidh. Everyone lines up and bows their heads in respect.

Looks like Mumhan is missing representation, mutters one of the guests.

He hasn' much time left, I believe, replies another.

For many, this was their first time seeing a foreign king, but it was clear which king was from where once you had an idea of the official colours of each kingdom. Although they all wore signature whites, linen buttoned vests, and wool breeches with black boots and stockings, what made them distinguishable was the subtle difference in their coats and waist coat. The King of Ulaidh wears a scarlet red coat stretching below his knees. Underneath, he wears an orange waistcoat with an