Brian O'Sullivan's Blog

A brief snippet-scene from the book “FIONN: The Tightening Trail” where the woman warrior Liath Luachra and Demne (the future ‘Fionn’) are tracking threats in the forest.

Most of the activity in this book covers a dangerous trek undertaken by a small group from Ráth Bládhma (a settlement) to a potential ally in a distant part of the country.
All while being pursued by a number of mysterious enemies.

Although there’s plenty of action within this work, it also provides much of the essential context for the twists and turns in the subsequent novel in the series.

I have to admit, I had a lot of fun writing it.

https://irishimbas-shop.fourthwall.co...

As part of my slow slide away from socially destructive, tax-avoiding Tech giants, I’m now publishing and distributing most of my work predominantly at my Irish Imbas Books shop.

It’s still early days, but at least I can offer book bundles there that aren’t available through the usual ebook stores. Narurally, these are cheaper then buying books individually as well.

At the moment, the FIONN series is available at the shop in two separate bundles.

Bundle One includes the first three books.

Bundle Two includes the second three books.

I’m hoping to do something similar with the Liath Luachra series in a few months.

Background Context: This originates from a 12th century tale concerning the two Fenian heroes Oisín (son of Fionn mac Cumhaill) and Caoilte mac Rónáin. Both warriors have returned to Ireland from the Otherworld Tír na nÓg (the Land of Youth) but many centuries have passed and their homeland has very much changed. The two warriors have split up to travel around the country and visit old sites they once knew. Caoilte is currently being hosted by the rí of Kinelconall (around modern day Wicklow) at his home in Dún na mBarc.

The Story of Berrach Brec

After they had eaten, Conall mac Neill gestured out to sea where a dark patch was just visible on the blue blade of the horizon. ‘You see the island out there?’ asked Conall. ‘Out on that island stands the ruins of an ancient fort. In those ruins there’s an enormous tomb whose origins have been lost to time.’
On hearing this, Caoilte looked towards the distant isle and surprised them all by starting to weep.

Conall approached him cautiously. ‘Caolite. You who are courageous and so skilled with a sword …’ He paused. ‘I beg that you and your companions accompany us to the island tomorrow to view it’.

‘By my word,’ said Caoilte. ‘That island is the third place in Ireland I do not wish to see for the memory of the noble people who once lived there.’ He sighed, a sigh so great it echoed down upon the distant strand. ‘But, yes. I will go with you tomorrow.’

Because of the great warrior’s melancholy mood, it was a subdued night in Conall’s dwelling. At dawn the next morning however, Conall, his wife and other members of the settlement had gathered eagerly to await his rising. Since his arrival, Caoilte’s tales and knowledge of times past had stimulated them, raised their spirits and explained much that was now unknown after the passing of so many centuries.

Day broke with a glowing sun, perfect visibility and a faint breeze. The waves were low and mild as three boatloads of people travelled across the glistening sea to the island which consisted of several forest-coated hills. Landing on a clear, white strand, they started uphill to the ruins of the small fortress which was located on the island’s highest point. There, within its cramped ruins, they found the enormous stone tomb that Conall has spoken of and which measured seven score feet in length and twenty-eight in width. Caoilte took a seat on the tomb and sat staring at the ground while the others gathered around. The bustle and chat of the crowd slowly dropped to a solemn hush as they looked about at the ancient, moss-coated stones.

‘By my soul, Caoilte,’ said Conall. ‘I have seen many tombs in my day but never one to match the marvel of this one. Can you tell us whose it is?’

The warrior did not speak for a time but when he did his voice was heavy with emotion. ‘I’ll tell you the truth of it, Conall. This is the tomb of the fourth best of all women who ever lay with a man back in the day.’

Conall paused, carefully choosing his words before posing his question. ‘And who were these four distinguished women?’

Caoilte closed his eyes as though struggling to recall but his answer, when it came, was clear and confident. ‘The first was Sabia, daughter of Conn Cétchathach (Conn of the Hundred Battles). The second was Eithne Ollamda, daughter of Cathaír Mór. The third was Cormac’s daughter Ailbhe, known as Ailbhe Gruaidbhres (Ailbhe of the feckled cheeks). The fourth – and the woman in this grave – was Berrach Brec, daughter’ of Cas Cuailgne, king of Ulster, and beloved wife of Fionn mac Cumhaill.

If any one of those four women had goodness in excess of the others, it was Berrach Brec. At her home, a guest could remain well hosted from the first day of Samhain-tide to the first of spring and had his choice to remain longer should he wish. If any man lacked arms or clothing, she ensured he received enough of both before he left.’

‘And what was the cause of her death?’ asked Conall.

Caoilte gave a sad laugh. ‘Love, of course.’ He grew quiet once more and it was some time before he spoke again.

‘Berrach Brec was raised by Goll mac Morna’s father and mother as their only fosterchild. On her eighteenth year, when she’d grown to a beautiful woman Fionn mac Cumaill begged her father for her hand. Because Fionn’s tribe – Clann Baoiscne – was a onetime enemy of Clann Morna, he agreed only on the condition that the tribal leader, Goll mac Morna, also gave his consent.

Fionn, passionate as ever, then approached his old adversary Goll and asked for the hand of his foster-sister. After much discussion, Goll finally agreed. “But there are three conditions,” he told the Clann Baoiscne warrior. “These are that you can never dismiss her as your wife; she will be your third wife and you will give her whatever she asks without refusal.”

“All of those conditions will be met,” Fionn answered him.

“And who shall you provide to Clann Morna as sureties?”

“I leave that choice to you,” said Fionn.

In the end, Fionn gave his own three foster-sons as sureties: Daighre, Garadh and Conán. Berrach Brec, for her part, was happy to go and live with Fionn and over the subsequent years she bore him three strong sons: Faelán. Aedh Beg and Uillenn Faebairdherg (Uillenn of the Red-Eye).

Fionn had her for a loving wife for many years until the peace between Clann Morna and Clann Baoiscne was broken. Clann Morna turned on Fionn and raised a war party that numbered three thousand warriors.’
At this point, Caoilte closed his eyes and uttered a quatrain in an ancient form of the language that was now no longer spoken:

Ten hundred and twenty hundred there
That was the bulk of proud Clann Morna’s rank and file
Over and above which chiefs and their chieftains
Who numbered fifteen hundred

‘The Clann Morna war party travelled to Daire Taebdha (Oakwood of the Bulls) in Connacht. There, three groups of Fionn’s warriors caught them by surprise, attacking at dawn before they’d arisen from their camp. In the oakwoods, we felled fifteen of the most battle-hardened and well-armed Morna warriors and would have felled more had Goll mac Morna, that experienced battler, not arranged to protect their rear. As they retreated, we were unable to inflict any further damage.

Infuriated by the defeat, Clann Morna decided then to slay anyone who was aligned or friendly with Fionn and his Fianna. Conán Maol (Bald Conán) was the one who gave this advice. Goll’s brother, Conán was a man whose mind knew no peace. A breeder of quarrels, he was a malicious mischief-maker in times of war or peace.

Making their way to this island and this fortress where Berrach Bec was staying, Clann Morna paused on one of the nearby green-grassed meadows to decide what to do with her. Berrach Bec was their foster-sister after all. After much argument and discussion, they decided to offer her a choice: to bring away all her possessions and valuables and leave Fionn. In that way, they reasoned, by returning to her foster kin, she’d never have to fear Clann Morna again.

When this message was conveyed to her, Berrach Bec appeared on the ramparts of the little fortress and cried out to them. “Would you truly injure me? Would you truly injure me, my own beloved foster brothers?”

“We would,” they answered.

“Then do your worst,” she countered. “By no means will I forsake my husband Fionn mac Cumhaill, my first family and gentle love.”

Angered by her response, the Clann Morna war party approached the fortress in battle formation and surrounded it, each man within touching distance of his neighbour. When it was completely encircled, they set it alight from every side.

The panic-stricken Berrach Bec somehow managed to flee the settlement with a number of her serving women. Slipping through the Clann Morna battle line, they made a break for the sea. Up on the rampart of the burning fortress however, Art mac Morna, spotted her hurrying towards a sailing ship on the long white strand. Slipping a finger into the thong of his javelin, the Clann Morna warrior raised it and cast at her.

Down on the strand, Berrach Bec heard the javelin’s whistle and, startled, glanced about to see what was causing it. The missile struck her full in her chest, cleaving straight through her breast to break her spine in two.’

Caoilte sighed. ‘And that is how she died.’

The warrior got to his feet and leaning against one of the moss-coated walls, he stared down at the impressive stone structure. ‘Afterwards, once this fortress had been plundered, her own people carried her up from the shore and laid her here. This then was the woman whose tomb this is. The loyal Berrach Bec.’

Get your FREE copy of FIONN: The Stalking Silence – the first book in the ancient Irish adventure series – the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series

In the Irish Woman Warrior Series (or the Liath Luachra Series), Na Cinéaltaí – The Friendly Ones – are ancient Ireland’s first mercenary fian (battle group). Led by the woman warrior Liath Luachra, they’re a messed up band of outcasts, lunatics, or adventurers seeking reputation, but all of them are struggling to make a living by carrying out ‘taskings’ for the more treacherous tribal chieftains of the period.

Over the course of the books, the make-up of Na Cinéaltaí changes as various members are killed or wounded, depart on their own accord, or simply disappear. The core members of the group include:

Liath Luachra (the rígfénnid or fian leader), An Giobach (a large warrior with an unknown family past), Feirgil (an eccentric warrior suffering from an ríastrad), Biotóg (an untrustworthy warrior), Murchú (nephew of the original rígfénnid being groomed as a future tribal leader).

Even the core members of the group are not exempt form death or injury, however.

Na Cinéaltaí operate within the thorny dynamics of ancient Irish tribal systems, which is one reason the books are so different from the ‘Celtic Fantasy’ representations of Irish culture. Add in cultural obligations of the time, and a traumatised female leader (during a time period when women were kept firmly in the homeplace), and it opens up a lot of doors with respect to creative potential.

At this stage I have other book priorities on the go – including a prequel series to the Irish Woman Warrior Series – but I’m hoping to return to this series in late 2027 with ‘Liath Luachra: The Hungry People’.  

At present, if you subscribe to Vóg – the Irish Imbas Newsletter – you can access ‘Dark Dawn’ FREE!

Do you love mythological fiction, gritty adventures, and immersive storytelling?

The nice thing about Dark Dawn is that it isn’t just a story — it’s a gripping, choose-your-own-path experience set during the early stages of the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series adventure. When you enter the game, you step into the bloodied boots of Ultán, a dying warrior tasked with protecting the remote settlement of Ráth Bládhma from the scouts of an approaching war party.

Following the adventure through text or audio narration, you’ll decide the fate of Ráth Bládhma as your choices shape the outcome — and reveal hidden truths from a violent past.

What Readers Are Saying:

“A fascinating POV character with a voice flavored by grim reflections and a gradual acceptance of the inevitable.” – GrimDark Magazine

“Very clever and great fun indeed.” – Goodreads reviewer

“I was expecting an ebook… but what I got was something completely different — and unforgettable.” – Goodreads reviewer

“A powerful blend of myth, mortality, and moral weight.” – The Irish Examiner

Immersive, myth-based storytelling with branching paths and powerful emotion.

Vóg – the Irish Imbas newsletter – comes out 10 times/year and you can unsubscribe any time you want. Subscribe Now

We had a bunch of foreign visitors arrive to our home in Cork last night.

Being hospitable, we fed them at the kitchen table.

As soon as they’d consumed what we’d offered, they got up and started rummaging through the cupboards, combing through our personal correspondence, pulling our belongings out and throwing them aside as they continued their search.

‘Where do you keep the Irish mythology?’ they demanded.

A crannóg scene by Irish artist Conor Burke. Originally from Waterford, Burke is now based in London where he works as a Concept Artist and in an architecture firm.

Although illustrated as fan art for the Game of Thrones world, his representation of a crannóg is one of the best I’ve seen and feels very reminiscent of the crannóg at the Irish National Heritage Park in Wexford, (which, given its so close, I’m assuming he must have visited).

This wasn’t a model I used for my own crannóg representation in ‘Liath Luachra: The Metal Men’ but I can certainly imagine it being used as developmental material for screen production.

The original stories from the Fenian Narratives (the stories of Fionn mac Cumhaill and the warrior band mistakenly called Na Fianna by medieval and later writers, are believed to have first originated in Leinster. That’s why so many of the Fionn mac Cumhaill stories take place in that region.

Over the subsequent centuries however, as the character’s popularity increased, professional storytellers from other parts of the country also started to adapt these tales for their local audiences, often incorporating nearby topographical features that these audiences would be familiar with into the story. That’s why, today, you’ll struggle to find anywhere in Ireland with a topographical feature that doesn’t have at least some kind of reference or linkage to Fionn or ‘Na Fianna’.

The twelfth century Macgnímartha Finn (The Boyhood Tales of Fionn) on which the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series is based, retains those very strong links to Leinster. Here’s a map showing some of the key locations:

Ráth Bládhma: As a child, Fionn (or Demne, as he was originally known) was reared by two female guardians (Bodhmhall and  The Grey One ) in the forests of Sliabh Bládhma/ Sliabh Bloom in County Laois). This isolated spot was the most significant area of wilderness adjacent to the areas in Leinster which would have been most populated back in the Iron Age. As a result, it would have been a logical place to set the story of someone who was on the run or in hiding.Seiscenn Uairbhaoil: This Leinster marsh (where the warrior Fiacail mac Codhna was said to be based) is believed to be located in present day County Wicklow. It’s placement on the map is a rough estimate on my part.Almhu: This was the site where Tadg mac Nuadat was originally said to be based. According to one or two references, the fortress was painted with alum (Almhu) from whence it gets its name but this is probably a contrived explanation added at a later date. This was also the supposed childhood home of Muirne Múncháem (Fionn’s mother). These days many people still use the anglicized (and somewhat meaningless) version of the name: The Hill of Allen.Dún Baoiscne: This is the one site in the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series which is a fabrication on my part. For the purposes of the series, I needed Fionn’s people (Clann Baoiscne) to have a tribal territory based around a fortress which I arbitrarily named Dún Baoiscne (literally: the fortress of Clann Baoiscne). To be fair, if there had been a Clann Baoiscne and they did have a fortress, that’s probably what it would have been called. Its position is estimated from settings provided through the various Fenian tales.

Many of these placenames may pose a challenge for non-Irish speakers to pronounce but why not have a go and then check it against the audio guide audio guide used for the series to see how close you were.

This is an excerpt (the first few pages) from my novel ‘Liath Luachra: The Grey One’ – the first book in the ‘Irish Woman Warrior Series’. A novel, dealing with the adventures of a traumatised young woman warrior trying to survive in a misogynistic 1st century Ireland, it’s a bit darker than my other works and attempts to give a more realistic account of the early stories from the ancient Irish narratives.

Although Liath Luachra is a very little-known character in the Fenian narrartives (one or two vague mentions at most), I’ve been somewhat bemused to see how, over the years since first publishing the book, the character is now being portrayed. On the internet and social media these days, you’ll find several individuals authoritatively declaring that Liath Luachra was a famous Irish warrior (incorrect) and a famous 1st century Irish lesbian (it’s not even certain the character was female). I guess, the truth is that people will invent whatever they want to in order to fulfil some need of their own.

Liath Luachra: The Grey One is probably our most popular book of all time but the entire series is now free from the shackles of Amazon exclusivity. You can currently find all the books at the Irish Imbas Shop (link in the comments below) or on Amazon. Thye’ll appear on Kobo shortly and possibly on Apple Books in a few days.

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Liath Luachra, the Grey One of Luachair, watched the raiders slip in before dawn. Blurred figures barely distinguishable against the shaded grey background of the surrounding forest, they slid through the grass at the edge of the clearing like wolves on the hunt.

Wolves.

She considered that for a moment. It seemed … apt. This particular band of raiders styled themselves in the manner of a wolf pack to the point of naming themselves Na Madraí Allta – The Wild Dogs. Their leader, a big man with black hair and a distinctive black beard, even went so far as to insist on being called An Mactíre Dubh – The Black Wolf.

As she watched, the Grey One chewed quietly on a stale slice of oat bread. The texture of the loaf was tough and leathery, and she could feel pieces of the original kernel when she crushed it between her molars. Her belly twinged. She hadn’t eaten since noon the previous day and her stomach, flat at the best of times, had recessed even further into her torso. Fortunately, the morsels she was chewing would keep the worst of the craving at bay, hold the hunger weakness off until she had a chance to eat again.

Or didn’t need to eat again.

With that depressing reflection, she resumed her scrutiny of the raiders. Sprawled on her belly, she was lying in the treeline on the forested southern crest of a high, U-shaped ridge. The ridge formed a natural enclosure around a wide clearing and from that height she had an unobstructed, if murky, view of the little settlement situated directly below. In all, the settlement consisted of three rectangular thatched buildings and a number of lean-tos lying off to the side. The larger buildings formed a rough semicircle around a well-established fire pit located at the centre. Low flames cast a dull orange glow onto the mud and straw-daubed walls.

A herd of about fifteen cattle milled about the buildings and out around the pasture in the rest of the clearing. A squat figure was silhouetted against the fire. A sentry for the cattle, he’d proven unforgivably lax in his responsibilities. Overly confident in the security offered by the settlement’s relative proximity to the Uí Bairrche stronghold and the natural concealment of the encircling ridge, he’d simply left the cattle to fend for themselves and retired to the fire to doze.

‘One, two, three, four.’ A pause. ‘Five, six … shit!’ Another pause. ‘One, two … three.’

The Grey One turned a sideways glance to Canann an Súil – Canann the Eye – who’d paused in his counting to scratch an itch through the thick fistful of whiskers enveloping his chin. Foiled by the bushiness of his facial growth, he settled for a quiet curse instead. The Grey One made no comment. Something of a simpleton, Canann was one of the least effective members of their fian – war party. He rarely said anything worth listening to and was beside her uniquely because of his exceptional night vision. Canann, it was claimed, could make out the contours of a pig’s arsehole at the end of a deep mine shaft. There was no pig to be found anywhere for any great distance – except, perhaps, in the settlement below – but that claim would be sufficiently tested by his ability to identify how many raiders they faced.

‘By The Great Father’s testicles, shut your gob, Canann.’ An infuriated whisper, laden with venom, this time originating from her left.

The Grey One frowned as she considered the darkness beside her. Bressal Binnbhéalach – Bressal SweetTongue – of the Uí Loinge, was usually the most articulate and self-disciplined of individuals. Almost completely obscured by the shadow beneath the forest canopy, she struggled to make him out.

‘Calm, Bressal. They approach from the northern gap. They’re too far away to hear us.’

‘They’ll hear us if that cretin doesn’t stop counting out loud.’

The Grey One left the discussion at that. As rígfénnid – leader of the fian – Bressal could demand what he liked of its various members. For the most part a reasonable man, his current belligerence belied an intelligent mind and a superior facility when it came to sheer rat cunning. Despite his intellect however, she’d noticed a recurring pattern of abominable hostility over the course of the current season. Usually just before a fight.

It was the tension of course. Bressal was no fool. It was he, after all, who’d organised this particular action, who’d conceived and developed the plan for taking down the raiders. Now unfortunately, just prior to the battle, his behaviour was becoming a dangerous liability.

Liath Luachra reached across and placed a hand on his. The slim man’s forearm was greasy with nervous sweat, the skin about his wrist warm and slimy. She forced herself to hold it there for a moment or two. As a general rule she avoided close physical contact with others and particularly with Bressal for the man had been seeking her caress for almost two years. Over that time, she’d done everything in her power to discourage such interest but right now he needed to be distracted.

As she anticipated, he started at her touch and with the shock of that contact she sensed the tension gush out of him. The leaves crackled softly as he shifted his weight and she pulled her hand back before he could interpret it for something more than it was or, worse, respond in kind. To prevent any further interaction, she turned away to face Canann. The keen-sighted buffoon was still counting but at least he’d reduced his voice to a muted whisper.

‘Nine, ten, eleven … eleven, twelve.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Twelve,’ he declared suddenly but with obvious satisfaction. ‘There are twelve men, Liath Luachra. Twelve men.’

‘Are there twelve men or is it that you can only count to twelve?’

A momentary silence passed between them.

‘There are twelve men,’ he insisted, an aggrieved tone to his voice.

‘Good, Canann. Good. She tossed him the compliment thoughtlessly, much as she’d toss an unwanted bone to a hungry dog. Despite the fact he was more than twice her age, the warrior lapped the praise up like an excited puppy, moaning softly and nodding to himself as though in confirmation of his count.

Ignoring both men, Liath Luachra turned her focus back to the approaching raiders. She didn’t have Canann’s keen eyesight but she still managed to catch glimpses of movement in the moonlight as the raiders spread out from the clearing’s northern entrance and formed a rough arc along the treeline on either side. When they were ready, they’d swarm out around the settlement in that formation. For the moment however, they seemed happy enough just to sit and observe.
The guard should have been waiting at the entrance. Not warming himself by the fire.

That simple negligence irritated her, which was unusual. Few things roused the Grey One’s emotions one way or the other but acts of carelessness in a combat situation occasionally worked their way under her skin to provoke a stir of anger. She frowned, placating this uncharacteristic indignation with the knowledge that the guard would probably be the first to die. For the settlement below however, she felt no particular sense of sympathy, no empathy. By ignoring the most fundamental of responsibilities, they’d brought the consequences on themselves.

Crawling forwards, she edged out of the enclosing shadows until she could look down on the base of the ridge where the other fénnid – the other members of the fian – were concealed. Like the raiders, the settlement’s inhabitants were unaware of their presence, an instruction from Mical Strong Arm who’d also shown them the secret route up from the far side of the steep ridge. Her fian were spread out down there, having formed a similar half-circle sometime after nightfall.
My fian.

She felt a momentary twinge of frustration at that. Bressal’s fian, she corrected herself. Na Cinéaltaí of the Uí Loinge. Even their name – The Kindly Ones – bore Bressal’s typically caustic sense of humour.

Raising her head again, she looked across the clearing to the trees where the incoming force was assembled.

Twelve raiders.

*******************

The book was available on Amazon uniquely but it will be available at ebookstores everywhere from today.

In terms of “Definitely Coming Soon”, I can confirm priority on the following projects:

(1) Liath Luachra: The Quiet One

The second book in The Warrior Path Series involves a younger, less certain, but more feral Liath Luachra

(2) BEARA: Cry of the Banshee – Part One

The long awaited follow-up to BEARA: Dark Legends with Ireland’s greatest mythological detective. This will be a bit of a cliff-hanger until Part Two is released.

(3) Irish Mythology 101

A layman’s guide to explain Irish Mythology and how we can use in in contemporary life .

———————-

NEW AND POTENTIAL PROJECTS

From past experience, I know it’s just impossible to foresee what I’ll be prioritizing once these initial three projects are completed. Every year for the past seven years, some major life event has unexpectedly slammed in from the side and thrown all my well-laid plans to the winds. At present, these are the projects on my work table. Hopefully by the end of the year, I’ll have a better idea which ones I’ll be working on.

Projects, I’m particularly keen to complete in 2027 include:

(a) FIONN 7 – The final book in the Series

(b) BEARA: Cry of the Banshee – Part Two. I can’t really leave that hanging

I have some ideas on what I’d like to work on after those but I’m certainly open to suggestions.