Of the Ban-Sidhe

Oberon sat upon his dark bronze throne. A sword rested in his hands, sharper than razors. "Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest?" he asked.


His minions scratched their heads. "Mighty and Dark Lord, what priest hath so offended your intellect?" one asked deferentially.

"What priest?" exclaimed Oberon angrily. "What priest?"

He spun and pointed. "There, below the glit'ring stars of the lesser heavens, this man lurks. He has derided me; brought ruin unto my schemes; turned cold iron against me!" He snarled. "It will not be tolerated. So: Which of you, dread minions of the night, will go to fight him?"

None of them moved.

Oberon lifted his sword. It made a noise as it moved; whistling, as though it cut the very air. "Which of you will go," Oberon said slowly and deliberately, "And which of you will stay... with... me?"

Howling and cavorting, screeching and wailing, the ban-sidhe streamed out of the clearing, running toward the glit'ring stars. Behind them, Oberon lowered his sword, studying it contemplatively. Black stains marred the finish. Slowly, he licked one, and smiled. His tongue was stained red.

-

The hordes of the ban-sidhe ran as fast as the fleeing sun. They arrived at the priest's humble cottage at twilight, and quickly surrounded it. Their leaders looked at one another, considering whether to force the entrance.

It was not an issue. A drunken man, dressed in ugly tweed, opened the door and stepped out. "What're ye wishin', ugly critters?" he asked in a slurred voice. "I've been havin' no time for this non-sense. Drinkin' to be done, y'know." A bottle was in his right hand; he drank a great swig from it as he finished speaking.

The motion opened his collar, revealing a tiny silver cross. Identity confirmed, the ban-sidhe struck. Three of them reached him at once, ravening with blood-stained claws and fangs.

The priest flicked his wrist. The beer bottle flew into the face of one of the ban-sidhe; a sword appeared in the priest's hand in the same moment, and slashed at the second monster, wounding it far more through the presence of cold iron than the actual bleeding wound. The third ban-sidhe touched the priest; he grimaced, and a faint blue numinance appeared around him, throwing the ban-sidhe bodily back.


"You're darin' to attack a man of the Lord?" the priest asked incredulously. As the ban-sidhe surrounded him more closely, he declared, "I'm Nick O'Shanty, and I'm meanin' to do the Lord's work - no matter who's threatenin' me!" Jabbing at a ban-sidhe who approached too closely, he commented, "Besides, it's Channukah. I've got every right to be angry when a man's being harassed on a holy day."

"You're Jewish?" a ban-sidhe asked. "I thought you were a priest. Also: You wear a cross."

"Well, sure, I am," Nick explained. "This is a pretty small place, our little land. I've gotta be a bit of everything. I'm a Protestant for the Protestants, a Catholic for the Catholics, and a Jew for the Jews. So long's no one comes complaining, we're happy."

"Well, I think we have to kill you now," a ban-sidhe leader growled, with an angry look at his underlings. He charged; momentarily, so did the rest.

Nick was surrounded by a sea of monsters as darkness fell. His sword flashed, dismembering beast after beast; fearing cold iron, they could not stand against it. He grimaced as he mumbled: "Baruch ata Adonai, Elohainu Melech ha'olam..." A leader came at him, armed with seven tentacles and a foot-long beak. Nick tangled the tentacles with one sword stroke and shattered the beak with the hilt of his blade. Keening, it withdrew. "Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum..." Four ban-sidhe came at him at once, each from another side. Nick dodged toward one, slashing it apart, and then drove the others back with a waggle of his sword; even that burned them like a flame. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..." Howling, a ban-sidhe plunged at him from above while Nick was already engaged below. Backpedaling swiftly, Nick drew up his sword to lock it against the ban-sidhe's. Its howling continued as it pressed against him, giving the others vital seconds to close on him; then it fell to pieces, destroyed by the sword-iron. "Amen!"

With this word, the numinance that had surrounded Nick from the beginning of the battle, and intensified through his prayer, brightened into a glare. The ban-sidhe staggered back. Then the glare exploded, sending lances of light throughout the darkness. Many ban-sidhe fell where they stood, burnt to ashes. The others scattered into the darkness, hiding from angry foe and King alike.

Nick took a cloth from his belt and cleaned his sword carefully, removing the accumulated horrid liquids it had accumulated throughout the battle. Then he sheathed it. "I'm'a have to goin' after that King Oberon soon," he pondered, looking to the direction whence the ban-sidhe had come. Then he shrugged, and wandered back inside his cottage. He had a sermon to write for tomorrow, after all.

-

On his throne, King Oberon shook with rage. "I am Fairy King Oberon," he snarled to his empty court, "Lord of the Ban-Sidhe, the Ban-Nikolas! And I have had enough!"

He turned to his left. "Puck, now's thy time. Do thy mischief as thou'rt want!"

A shadow of a drifting leaf seemed almost to nod. Then it disappeared.

The night was yet young; and much might happen before its end came.