446: Samhain: Back from the Dead

👻No one parties on Halloween Night like Nera and his friends Because their parties involve making bracelets. And corpses. And making bracelets for corpses. It's Samhain night, and Nera, a lowly spearman, accepts a dare from his king. It's a simple task that will change his life forever. 😈 The Creature: Ahuizotl Just a simple dog with a hand on its tail running a protection racket by the lake. --- 📖 The Book! Myths and Legends has our first book coming out on December 1st! FOR THE KING is a comprehensive retelling of Arthurian legend, focused on humanity and written for the modern age. If you like the podcast, you'll love the book, and preorders are a massive help to us. Check it out here: https://myths.link/preorder 📊 The Survey: If you have a minute, we'd love your feedback on the show, and you can enter to win a monthly drawing of free memberships (must be 18 years old to enter to win the membership): https://myths.link/survey 🔗 Links: Disclaimer: https://myths.link/446 Membership: https://www.mythpodcast.com/membership Source: https://myths.link/nera Myths and Legends YouTube:https://myths.link/youtube 💬 Social: Discord: https://myths.link/discord Instagram: https://myths.link/instagram Bluesky: https://myths.link/bluesky --- 📢 Sponsors Home Chef: For a limited time, Home Chef is offering my listeners FIFTY PERCENT OFF and free shipping for your first box PLUS free dessert for life! Go to https://homechef.com/legends Mint Mobile: To get your new wireless plan for just 15 bucks a month, go to https://mintmobile.com/legends. BetterHelp: If you’ve been waiting to start therapy, BetterHelp works with more than 125 health plan networks, and eligible members have an average copay of just $23 per session with insurance. Don’t have insurance or live outside the U. S.? You can still get 10% off your first month. Go to https://betterhelp.com/myths Wayfair: Head to https://wayfair.com https://wayfair.com/ to shop all things home. --- 🎵 Music Credits Everything is Not Fine by Breakmaster Cylinder Dark Descends by Breakmaster Cylinder Benchscoot by Breakmaster Cylinder Revolving Doors Tenson by Breakmaster Cylinder Softly Cyclical by Breakmaster Cylinder The Voice is Still There by Breakmaster Cylinder Belle Anette by Blue Dot Sessions

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  It's our Halloween episode, so there's stronger-than-usual violence this week. Please see the post on mythpodcast.com for more info. This week, on Myths and Legends, it's a Halloween episode set in ancient Ireland, where the king has a fun night of arts and crafts prepared for Samhain. And he'll challenge his spearmen to make a bracelet for a corpse. We'll also see which commonplace things around your house are actually entryways for ghosts and monsters. The creature this time is a friendly dog, who just wants to give you a pet with its long, tail-hand. A pet that's underwater, and for the rest of your life.

• 0:44Speaker 00

  This is Myths and Legends, episode 446, Back from the Dead. This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen. The links between the night of Samhain and Halloween are nuanced, further complicated by the fact that most of what we know about ancient Celtic practices is filtered through medieval Christian monks. Basically, they're not the same, but the idea of Samhain, and what it represented, would be folded into the modern-day Halloween that people around the world would celebrate.

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  Samhain in particular was one of the four major seasonal Gaelic festivals, and represented the end of the harvest. Gaelic days begin at nightfall, so it was celebrated starting at sunset on October 31st, and was the night where the barriers between the worlds broke down. Barriers between the living and the dead, the fairies and the humans, and everything else out there. In our story, we're back in ancient Ireland, where a king, Aile, has a challenge for any

• 1:52Speaker 00

  of his spearmen brave enough to take him up on it: make an ankle bracelet for a corpse. "Shall have a prize from me, as he may choose." Those were the words of King Aile. "As he may choose." There were no bounds on this promise. Nera could ask anything of the king, and it would be granted. It seemed simple enough. Wrapped the small, flexible branch around the ankle of the corpse, still gently swaying in the wind.

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  It was first-century Ireland. People in first-century-anywhere weren't unaccustomed to seeing or even handling dead bodies. Half the people in the area came out to watch the captives hanged, like the leaves they dropped, and like the leaves, they died. But tonight was different. It was Halloween, Samhain. It was a special and dangerous night, where strange things happened. The veil between the world of Nera, human, normal, mundane, and the other world, the world of the she, was thin. Things could happen on Samhain that couldn't happen on any other night. And until morning, Nera's world was not his own.

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  Demons, goblins, monsters, fey, kings and queens, and spirits of all types, filled the darkness. That's why, of the handful of boasts, words saturated with ale and bravado, accompanied by the cheers of the king and the queen's bravest warriors, all had quietly slipped back into the hall, a few minutes after leaving, their swagger vanishing, like the warmth of the fire as soon as they walked outside. But not Nera. Everyone, it seemed, had given up on the challenge. Those who had gone held a silent shame, overmatched only by those who hadn't even dared to try. Nera's own proclamation was met with tepid nods and incredulity.

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  Nera, on the walk, didn't even know why he did it, or what he wanted. If he was being truthful, yes, he was feasting in the presence of the king and queen, but only just. He wasn't some grand hero. He was a lowly spearmen, who knew that he was capable of more, but knowing wasn't doing. So now he was doing what no one else could for something, something more than this. He looked up at the gallows, looming above the thatch roofs in front of him. A monolith of the king and queen's justice, silhouetted against the night sky. Just then, a flash of gold caught his eye, and a form moved in the darkness in front of him.

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  And he heard a thud, behind some nearby barrels. Gripping his spear and stepping forward, an eerie mist seemed to fill the night. Nera paused. He knew better than to follow strange sounds into some mist, in the darkness of a Samhain night. Horror movies weren't a thing yet, but this is exactly what does, you know, 80% of the cast in. He stepped away from the mist, and, not turning his back on it, continued on down the road. He didn't know whether that shiver, the one that seemed to shake him down to his bones, was the chill of the autumn wind or the task that lay before him. Picking at a wound did not help it heal, and it certainly didn't help one ignore it and

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  carry on, so Nera would not dive in and explore those feelings. He would go, wrap the wood around the ankle of the man swaying just outside of town, and claim his destiny. The gallows were never busy at night, but on Samhain, the only sounds, other than the rustling leaves and the birds in the distance, were the creaking of the ropes. Nera tried to put the thought from his head, but he knew that, on Samhain, it wasn't just the boundary between the worlds, but between the living and the dead. Graves opened, and the spirits of the dead traveled the earth. These two, the men hanging, had lost their lives hours before, and they were still in gray.

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  Maybe their spirits didn't yet want to return to a world that had done such a thing to them. Nera produced a small width, think wicker, and flexed it, while he approached the toes and soles that seemed to float as much as they dangled. Revulsion and terror resounded at the first brush with the cold, colorless skin. Nera had tried to avoid it, but the branch was not cooperating. No matter how much he twisted the supple wood, it would not yield. Soon, seeing that the only danger he was gonna experience was the chill of the small hours if he kept this up, Nera was leaning against the body, wrapping his arm around the leg to try to give himself a firm post with which to brace the branch, but no matter what he did, he couldn't get the knot to close.

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  "Unless you put a proper peg on it, you will be here toward the morrow." A voice echoed around the gallows, and Nera jumped. Dropping the stick and reaching for his spear, he spun at the fields and the forests around him, pointing into the darkness, demanding that whoever just spoke to him identify himself. "You know who I am," the voice said. And, now that he was expecting it, he could locate it. The hairs on Nera's neck stood, as his mind grappled with reconciling the impossibility of a dead man speaking with the inescapable fact that the voice had come from that spot.

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  Turning, he willed himself to look at the source of the voice, to the eyes gazing down at him, from the end of the rope. A peg? Nera looked down and picked up the stick, because focusing on this problem was way more manageable than ruminating on a corpse speaking to him. The milky, gray eyes simply looked on, the mouth curled in a, hmm. And Nera could almost read in the drooping, lolling face that, if he could not solve this problem, then perhaps he did not deserve the prize. It didn't take long after that. Folding the width, Nera tied the ends around the length of wood, and then simply had to

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  attach it, like one would button a coat, around the man's ankle. "You're a manly one," the corpse said with a laugh. Nera couldn't tell if the corpse was mocking him. On one hand, he was the only one of Aile and Maeve's warriors who dared to even come to the gallows. On the other hand, the bravery of touching the corpse would never compare with what the man went through to become the corpse. "Have a drink with me, brave man." The corpse's toes and fingers wiggled, as if whatever Nera had sparked in the eyes was branching out elsewhere. Nera looked to the other corpse, still swaying, eyes still rolled back and neck violently angled.

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  Even in the dancing light of the lantern, he was motionless. He wasn't thirsty when he died. I was, the corpse stated. "Where, how are we gonna get something to drink?" Nera asked, glancing around. "The nearest house should be good enough if they let us in," the corpse said. "As for how, well, you woke me. You should be able to figure it out." It seemed both unfair and unwise to leave a dead man with a grudge, but this complicated things. Nira looked up. "Could the man get down from there himself?" "If I could, I would have done so this morning," the man said.

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  And if Nira was looking for a twinge of a smirk, he would have stood there waiting until dawn. So, Nira went to work. He would get below the man and prop his legs up on his back. That would give the rope enough slack to slip from his neck. After touching a corpse and talking to a corpse, Nira was kinda surprised he could be freshly horrified when the dead man thudded onto his back. Hefting the corpse up, Nira looked down to his lantern and spear. He would have to come back for those. "The closest house?" Nira asked as they approached the nearest house. "Quiet and closed on the edge of town." "Hmm, the closest house," the corpse muttered. "Unless..."

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  As they approached the waddle round house, the thatch peaks stretching toward the night sky, Nira's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness when the house before them ignited. Staggering back, Nira shielded himself, and the corpse swore. "There is no drink for us in this house. We are not welcome here." He grumbled, and, eyes acclimated to the light, Nira could see that it wasn't the house that was ablaze, but simply a circle around it, protecting it. "There's a banked fire within," the corpse said, and told Nira they needed to continue on. Now, I am tempted to have Nira ask, "A banked fire? What's that?"

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  But he would absolutely know. A banked fire is when you cover hot embers with ashes so they can last the night, and the fire is still partially alive in the morning. It also, according to the story, wards off fairies or ghosts from entering your house, so bank your fires, I guess. They continued on until the next house. It, too, was quiet and shut. As they approached, though, the distance grew. It grew until the house was far away, and what would have been the front door was the edge of a massive lake. Nira stepped back a few feet, and the lake became a pond. A few more feet, and the pond became a stream.

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  Finally, after backing up even more, the house was only a few feet away again. "Try to swim in it, and it becomes an ocean," the corpse said. "There is not a washing nor bathing tub. We're slop pale in this house after sleeping. My drink is not here." Nira knew the custom. You emptied water tubs and chamber pots before you shut the house up for the night, but never thought about why. He would learn why, though, when a raspy laugh scraped its way up the corpse's throat as they approached the third house. This one, this was the house. His drink was in this house. But they wouldn't be entering the house by the door.

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  The corpse told them that there was a pond nearby, a real one. They would use that. Sweating and straining now under the weight of the corpse, Nira asked how they would use that? "The dead, the ghosts, the she, the fey people, they can use things the living can't. There's something in that house. A basin or a tub that someone forgot to empty or put a coal in so it can't be used," the corpse said as they approached the water's edge. "You can travel through uncovered water?" Nira asked, shifting on the shore of the pond. "No. We can travel through uncovered water. Let's just hope it's not a chamber pot."

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  The corpse laughed and moved suddenly on the man's back. Nira lost his balance and, tipping forward, braced himself as he fell into the pond. There was a splash, a splash on both sides. Nira hit the water with the corpse on his back and would have yelped in shock if the frigid pond didn't force the air from him. The whole experience only lasted for a moment, though, because he emerged with the same force with which he fell. The water that soaked him on his way in was pulled from his body, clothes, and hair on the way out, and he found himself standing next to the filmy, dirty wash basin in the warm house. The corpse grunted that he wanted to be set down, and, more than happy to oblige,

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  Nira unburdened himself before going to root around in the dark for some ale for the man. "They drank it all," he whispered after investigating the barrels in the middle of the room. "There's no more ale here." But, Nira had misread the initial request back at the gallows. He assumed that the corpse wanted a drink-drink. That, it seemed, was not the case. He was happy that it wasn't people or blood or something gross like that, though it was nearly as gross, because Nira emerged back into the main room to see the corpse finish off the wash basin and toss it next to the empty chamber pot before he began guzzling the murky bathwater.

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  Nira barely kept himself from retching, if only to not wake the whole house and save them the sight of a recently deceased corpse slurping their used bathwater and explaining why he, Nira, one of the king's spearmen, was accompanying a recently deceased corpse slurping their used bathwater. He should have just let himself vomit, though, because it all ended up for naught. When he was finished with water, with the last sip still on his lips, he let out a loud, contented sigh that seemed to shake the house. The people were up in an instant, with the father and mother lighting their lantern.

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  A scream went out from one of the uncles and a son when they saw the pale corpse with its cloudy eyes. The corpse, though, laughed, a loud and hearty laugh that said the people before him knew nothing of the terrors in this world, but he would gladly show them. The story tells us that the corpse scattered the last sip from the assorted drinks that were still on his lips, and it touched the faces of each of the people in the house. In moments, the people inside were dead. The house was still, quiet, save for the corpse's waning revelry. Nira, too, was quieted, though his was by choice.

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  Seeing the corpse's power and utter disregard for human life, Nira felt both justified in completing his request and scared of what the corpse might do to him. But, satiated, the man announced that it was over. Taking up the corpse once again on his back, Nira gladly followed the man's request to return him to the gallows, this time out the front door. The dead man, to his credit, did not fight his fate. He stood up straight as, once again, Nira looped his neck through the noose and stepped out. Looking up, he saw the corpse dangling, looking exactly as it did when Nira found him, as

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  if everything that just happened did so in the blink of an eye or never happened at all. He thought about watching the family fall one by one to the spit that flung from the corpse's mouth and hoped it was the latter. The looped bit of wicker still rested on the corpse's ankle, so that meant he was done. He could return to the court of the king and queen and claim his prize. Still trying to think of what he would ask of King Aliel, Nira paused as he got closer to town. He thought, Nira turned his head. Screams, the metallic clash of weapons and the meaty thud of slaughter. Nira readied his spear and ran toward home.

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  Fire erupted from the ground, from the dune, the king's royal fort, where the people where Nira had been feasting not long ago. The flames of the massacre drew him to the dune, where he saw the king that was to give Nira his prize, or, rather, saw what remained of him. His body was slack, but the warrior hacked at his neck until, fistful of hair, his head tore free. Raising it in the air, a hundred more cheers and nearly as many heads followed. Nira, huddled behind a barrel, wasn't afraid to die for his king, but his king was now in pieces. Beard tied to the belt of whatever rival kingdom had been profane enough to slaughter

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  them at a feast. No, he wasn't afraid to die, but he wouldn't throw his life away. There were some dead ones, men whose clothes and banners he didn't recognize, and Nira pulled the closest one near him and quickly changed. The invaders didn't ride horses, and Nira didn't understand. There was no one nearby who would do this to Aliel and Maeve. How did they expect to escape? He would need to find out, and then he would take his revenge. Their celebration quieting to meet the solemnity of the town that had become a tomb, the remaining warriors affixed heads to their belts and began, one after another, to leave. There wasn't a head for him.

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  Nira was very okay with that, but he prayed the gambit would not expose him. As the last man slipped from town, Nira fell in behind him. As he left the fires of the dune for the windswept fields, Nira quickly saw why the men had arrived on foot. They hadn't come from a kingdom beyond his own. They had come from a world beyond his own. They had come from the field just outside of the royal fort. They had come from She Crua Can, as the royal seat of Aliel's kingdom, today called Rath Crohan in County Roscommon, Ireland. She Crua Can is a ferry mound and one of the entryways to the other world.

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  The doorway is only open one night a year, Samhain, after sunrise. The men huddled down to enter the cave, Oanaght, the, quote, "cave of the cats," and Nira hesitated only for a moment before stooping to join them. Twice this night, he had survived contact with the other world, and since nothing remained for him here, he might as well go see who had just massacred everyone he had ever known. He took a deep breath and entered the cave.

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• 22:22Speaker 00

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  Traveling between worlds wasn't as eventful as Nira thought it would be. It didn't feel like anything, not until he got there. The light blinded him, and squinting, he saw the fires burning high all around him. He was in the dune, the dwelling of the king, but not his king. And surrounding him, 100 men stood with spears pointed at his neck. "What brought thee into the she?" a man bellowed from above. Nira laughed to himself, as he knew two things immediately: one, he hadn't been as tricky as he thought he was, and two, that if he was in danger, it wasn't immediate. They had known him the moment he stepped from the barrel, if not sooner, and they

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  could have killed him at any time before allowing him armed in the presence of their king. "Well, I followed your post," Nira said with a shrug, implying that if the king wanted to talk about incursions into each other's lands, they could talk about incursions into each other's lands, but the conversation might not be as one-sided as the king might like. The king allowed himself a chuckle. Very well. This land was not unlike Nira's, and, leaving the dune, he would find a house nearby. It was already occupied by a woman, a widow, but she would allow him to stay there, under the king's command. "So you destroy the seat of Khanak?

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  You kill a Liel and Maeve and all their warriors, my friends, on a single night? You expect me to take up with some widow in her cottage?" The bemusement that led to the king taking an audience with this man was fading. Nira entered his world, put himself under the king's power, but he was a generous king, and he would give Nira a choice. If Nira's friends were dead, he could join them. With a wave, the spears rose once again. Or he could stay here. Nira chose to stay.

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  The woman was cold toward Nira, and Nira slept on the floor for the first dozen nights. She only let Nira stay because the king commanded it, the same reason Nira had stayed. So at least they had that in common. They had other things, too, as they got talking, mainly loss. Even in the other world, a place of magic and elves, families got sick, died. She eventually apologized for being so rude. Having been alone for so long, she felt like that was who she was. Nira put his hand over hers on the table. He understood. He had lost not just his family, but his friends, his king, everything.

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  She looked on him with pity and then pulled her hand away. Nira was careful to say he didn't blame her, it was her people, and even then, just a small number of them. Though they grew closer, she would shut down every time he talked of home, so he stopped doing so. In fact, he was beginning to see the other world as his home now. The work was a little degrading for a warrior, cutting wood and dragging it to the king's dune every day. And while chopping through log after log was difficult, compared to hacking through someone's throat or stabbing them through the sternum in the midst of a pitched battle, in different ways, it was easier. Familiarity and comfort gave way to friendship, and friendship bloomed into love.

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  And within a few months, Nira and the woman were married. And Nira, who had never known what he wanted, knew that he had found it here, in the other world, among those who had destroyed his life.

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  Nira studied his wife over porridge one morning. There are ways to tell when something is wrong with the people who are closest to us, and, for Nira's wife, something was wrong. "Please, what is it?" Knowing there was no way to hide it, she put down her spoon, "His people, we don't need to talk about it." Nira held up his hands. "They weren't going to talk about it. She had nothing to do with it. Her people did it." And it was a difficult thing to let go of, but she needed to let him. "They should let the dead stay dead." "They're not dead," she said. And the silence that followed that statement seemed to force all the air from the room. "I watched them die, all of them." "What do you mean by that? Tell me now."

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  What he saw wasn't what happened, it was what would happen. Next year, on Sowan, it was part of the king's plan to send an army through Inugat and massacre the king at his feast. The humans were growing in power, and their own prophets told of an attack that would come through that very doorway. Nira's arrival, his rage, was both an omen and a warning. The king, the king of the she, his attack would be successful. In the meeting of the worlds on Sowan, Nira had seen the king's future, his grim, victorious future. Nira didn't understand, "Why let me live, let me stay?" She wondered that, too. He had been commanded to live in her house.

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  Maybe he didn't know what would spark the attack and didn't want to execute a traveler. Maybe he was more magnanimous than the human king. "How long have you known?" Nira dared the question that would destroy yet another world. "Always," she said, with a grave look on her face. At first, she didn't care. Then she couldn't tell him because she would lose him. Then she had to get him proof. "Proof?" Nira looked at her, fighting tears at the betrayal. "Proof that you are here, something to take to your people so they will believe you," she said. "Go back?" Nira asked. It was all he wanted when he arrived here, to see his friends, his people, alive again.

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  Now, he shook his head. That didn't make sense. It was summer now. He had been there for, I don't know, almost a year. The doorway was only open on Sowan. As she rose, she went to the cupboard. She explained that both of those points were true, kind of. To the first point, that he had been here for nearly a year, time worked differently. His perception of time, here, when he went back, it would be Sowan, when the door was opened. As for the second part, it was true that the she, the fairy people, could only pass through on Sowan, but the humans, the humans could go through whenever they wanted. "I don't understand this at all," Nira said. "Basically, I can send you through the doorway, and you'll arrive back on Sowan the day you

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  left, because there, no time has passed at all," she said, rising. He was silent. "You need to go. You need to do this, or else everyone you care about will die," she said, pressing a bundle into his hands.

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  It was twilight, and Nira kept glancing back at the dune, rising high in the hills, wary that he was being followed. But the field was empty. No one was coming for them because the gateway for the people on this side was just a hole in the ground. Here, Nira felt a cloak wrap around his shoulders, a color between crimson and indigo, one that he had never seed me for, one that seemed impossible to his eyes. A little warm for the middle of summer, his wife reminded him that it was mid-autumn where he was going. She said she would collect his wood for the king to cover his absence. She kissed him and said she was sorry for everything, and pushed him backwards. As he stumbled toward the hole, the last thing he heard before the flash of light took

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  him was, "See you in a year."

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  Nira opened his eyes in the field. Out here, the call of the wind and the rustle of the leaves were louder than the shouts and laughs emanating from the dune. But Nira could hear both. Looking out at the warm round house, surrounded by a dotting of smaller homes, Nira could hardly breathe. It was all undone. The house that was burning, strewn with the dead, was whole again. The attack had never happened. Nira rushed toward the dune. It was as he approached, the path empty save for a few burning torches, that he remembered something from that night. That the path before him wasn't empty.

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  The door ahead shuddered shut, as, shaking his head, Nira—Sowan Nira—closed it on the jeers, an incredulity of his friends. She, Nira, dove, his golden brooch glinting in the torchlight, and hid himself behind the barrels. It was as he wrapped the cloak around himself that he realized that these were the same barrels he hid behind months ago, and also would hide behind in a few hours. He struggled to remember, though, as he heard his own footsteps coming closer, how he didn't see himself. Then, as the air became thick, he nodded. The mist. The strange mist that arrived wasn't she trickery.

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  Well, it was she trickery, but it was his own she trickery. It had to be the cloak. His wife likely remembered the story and made the connections. After he was gone to put a wicker rope around the ankle of a corpse, having known better than to venture too far into a spontaneous, sowan mist, Nira rose, dusted himself off, and turned to enter the dune. Their laughs and mockery lasted for a few moments, and if Nira hadn't been ruminating on all their deaths for the past several months, it might have been something that he cared about. The laughter faded, though, when they noticed some things. His beard was a few months longer than it was just a moment ago.

• 34:30Speaker 00

  His magnificent cloak was impossibly beautiful. He seemed to carry himself with a different sort of confidence. Aliel, the king, looked down at him. All just had left his voice. Maeve, the queen, grew serious, too. "Where have you been?" The wise among them believed Nira's story. Those who needed proof, got it. Wild garlic, primrose and golden fern, harvested from the middle of summer, in the lands from which Nira had just come. The celebrations dried up as Aliel ordered everyone to arms, to guard against the massacre Nira warned about, even if Nira said it was coming in a year's time.

• 35:12Speaker 00

  They passed the night packed into the room, spears and swords at the ready, for a host that never came. When the sun rose on an exhausted army, the men opened the doors to the chill and dew of morning. After having ruined Halloween for everyone with tales of their deaths, and then making them sober up and not even getting a good fight out of it, a number of people derided Nira. A nobody's spearmen now had an audience with a king and queen. No one knew how to stand up to the she, if they were bent on an attack against Aliel and Maeve. The men in the hall that night had been the best of the kingdom, and even though they had been caught unaware in the future Nira described, it shouldn't have been a massacre. The best option was to abandon this place, the seat of his kingdom, but that might as

• 35:57Speaker 00

  well be the same as accepting his death, since once Ulster caught word of it, they would descend on him like falcons. Then, from Ulster, Aliel's savior descended. Fergus. Fergus McCroy, the man who had once been the king of Ulster. His wife had taken the throne out from under him for her son, who himself betrayed Fergus and slaughtered his sons, forcing him into exile. In the near future, he would join Aliel and Maeve in a war that would become known as the Toine, the cattle raid of Cooley. For now, though, Fergus was a defector, mourning his sons and nursing his bruised ego and the kingdom of his enemy. He was a towering man.

• 36:39Speaker 00

  In fact, according to Wikipedia, his name literally means "manliness, son of the great stallion." And while everyone appreciated how he evened the odds against the she, he was genuinely terrifying. Fergus, with his growing number of warriors who had followed him into exile, advocated not for sitting and waiting for the she to come and fight them in Ireland, but to go there first. If the people believed the story Nira brought, then the gate was always open for them. They could leave tomorrow, catch the she completely unaware. Aliel had been advocating for destroying the gateway entirely, but more and more people were won over to manliness's side.

• 37:21Speaker 00

  Nira felt a sickness growing in his stomach. A human host charging through the gateway, catching the she unaware and slaughtering them. That was what led to the plans that led to the massacre that Nira witnessed, which led to his warning, which would now lead to a human host charging through the gateway. "You need a scout," Nira spoke up. As his story was more and more known, his role in these meanings had diminished. He now sat on the edges, piping up whenever he thought he could add something, or trying to answer the questions of his king to the best of his recollection. Most of the questions now were from Fergus, and they centered mainly on how to best kill the she. "Why?

• 38:06Speaker 00

  Why can't we just charge through and kill them all?" Fergus growled, walking over to Nira. Cornered by Fergus, Nira was never more acutely aware just how large the man's hands were, as if they could crumple his head like a handful of leaves. "Well," Nira gulped, "maybe that's what they wanted. Maybe that's why they showed me the vision, lured me there, told me of the coming massacre, and then just let me leave? Maybe it had been an illusion. Maybe they couldn't overwhelm us here. Besides," Nira shrugged, "I won't be out of place. I'm actually supposed to be there right now, anyway."

• 38:55Speaker 00

  We'll see what happens on Nira's second trip to the other world, but that will, once again, be right after this. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. If you've thought about trying therapy with our long-term partner, BetterHelp, insurance options may now be available nationwide, with an average copay for eligible members of just $23 per session. And good news: October contains World Mental Health Day. Bad news: It was actually, as I've released, 11 days ago. So it looks like you have to wait another year to focus on your mental health. Sorry about that. Obviously, I'm joking. I went to counseling when I was a teen, just for normal teen stuff, but it took me years into my adult life before I let enough stress and maladaptive behaviors and thinking

• 39:39Speaker 00

  pile up to finally go see a therapist. And you know what? I know everyone says stuff like this, but I wish I had started years before. It's been such a positive for my life, I can't recommend it enough. So don't wait a year until World Mental Health Day comes back around, or, you know, in my case, like, several years. If you've been waiting to start therapy, BetterHelp works with more than 125 health plan networks, and eligible members have an average copay of just $23 per session with insurance. Don't have insurance or live outside the US? You can still get 10% off your first month. Visit betterhelp.com/Myths to explore your payment options.

• 40:20Speaker 00

  That's better H E L P dot com slash myths. We've been looking for a table for our entryway, because you never get a second chance to make a first impression, and our first impression is a bare hallway. So I was like, "Okay, honey, I'll take this on. It'll be a project." So I scoured the internet, I looked at reviews and scrutinized specs, and finally found the perfect table. Just kidding, it took me like, two minutes. It was on the first page of stuff from Wayfair. It's Wayfair Verified, it looks fantastic, and it's on sale. It's the Pietruski Woods sideboard, and its lines and color tie into the table underneath the TV, which I definitely noticed. Basically, if you're looking for anything for your home, check Wayfair first.

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• 42:12Speaker 00

  You're a brave one, little man, Fergus said to Nira outside the cave. It wasn't that Nira was little, it's just that, compared to Fergus, everyone was little. If anything happens to you, if you don't return, we will tell tales of your glory, King Aliel said with a nod. Yes, Fergus snarled, if you don't come back, I will personally go in and kill every one of them in vengeance. For you. Thanks, Nira nodded, wrapping his cloak around himself and entering the cave. In moments, he was in the golden, shimmering lands of the Shi, the Otherworld. Time worked differently, he told himself after he enjoyed that first, deep breath.

• 42:56Speaker 00

  He didn't know how long he had, and if Fergus would already be on his way. Nira ran towards town. Making it to his door, he found it shut, locked. The sun in the sky was toward dusk, so she would be done now, gathering the wood. Nira knocked and heard a cry from within. She answered, chastising whoever was outside for waking him, but soon, all were silent, except for the baby in the bed by the far wall. Nira's world spun, as he pieced together what he was seeing. Is, is he? Nira asked, as he staggered over. His wife clung to his side.

• 43:38Speaker 00

  Yes, she smiled, barely able to hold back her tears. Did you know? I suspected, she said, embracing him. But he had to leave, he had to return to his people to save them. It meant everything to Nira. I thought it did, Nira said, looking at the floor, and then turned to meet her eyes. I need to tell you something.

• 44:11Speaker 00

  The cave, you can look it up, there are pictures of it on Google Maps, is a small one, so it's impressive that Nira managed to push a full-grown cow out of it. Aliel, Fergus, and a few other warriors on the other side were confused. Was Nira a cow now? Did the Otherworld turn people into cows? Was that something you had to worry about? But Nira quickly answered that question when he came out after. You weren't in there three seconds, Fergus grumbled. I was in there for two weeks, Nira said. I stayed at my house, worked my job, my punishment, I even spent time in their king's court. Nothing. They suspect nothing. What's the meaning of the cow? Aliel gestured.

• 44:55Speaker 00

  It's a beautiful cow. It's all my wealth in there, I wanted to bring it back, while I could. I'm giving it to you, since I was gone for the better part of a year, Nira said with a brief bow. Aliel might have said that that was unnecessary. For the people of the real world, the spearmen hadn't been gone a total of 15 seconds, but the cow was beautiful. He was glad to add her, and any cattle she bore, to his own herds. There were no rumblings about Nira, and even if there were, Aliel wouldn't have heard them, after such a magnificent gift. Planning continued apace, with Nira telling them everything they could expect on the other side of the gateway.

• 45:37Speaker 00

  From the type, strength, and number of warriors, to where they kept their greatest treasure. They would hit them the week before Samhain, at the end of the harvest, when everything would be as stocked and as rich as it ever would. The night finally came, and Nira was called up to the front of the army, to stand next to Aliel. He wasn't as tall as Fergus, but with a wink to Maeve and a giggle in return, Fergus made sure to stand up extra straight, so Aliel knew just how much he didn't measure up. Aliel said that he would go first. As king, it was dangerous, but he wouldn't lead men into another world without knowing what was on the other side himself. He furrowed his brow and put a fist to his chest, but then looked over to his queen,

• 46:22Speaker 00

  Maeve, who was having a side conversation with Fergus. Maeve, I said, I'm going first, Aliel barked. Okay, great, what do I care? I'm not going, she said. You know, I was just thinking, Fergus said, I should probably stay back and guard Maeve for a little bit, while the army goes in. I'll be along, for sure, but I'll take her back to the dune and make sure she's well taken care of, unless you need me for the journey in. But, no, I don't need you, Fergus, no one needs. Great, I'll make sure the second group gets over all right, he said. And he and Maeve turned their horses and rode back to the glowing fort in the distance. Aliel sighed, and turned to Nira. All right, let's go.

• 47:07Speaker 00

  The two men, the king and his spearmen, hunched down as they entered the cave, but Nira told his king that it starts to even out soon, so they will be able to walk upright. Sometimes, with Maeve, Aliel said, speaking to no one in particular, I get to thinking she's cheating on me. Nira chuckled to himself. Yeah? What do you mean by that? Aliel called out in the darkness. Nothing, Nira shot back. Hey, so remember how I mentioned my first time through, I ended up directly in the court of the king? He waited for what he assumed was a head nod from Aliel in the darkness. Well, I guess that was because I had contact with Otherworld stuff, remember, the corpse? So things get a little unpredictable coming through.

• 47:51Speaker 00

  You and your men are fine, this is your first time through, but since I was over there recently, it might spit me out somewhere else. If that happens, I'll find you all and join the attack. Okay, Aliel said, but back to Maeve, what did you mean by yeah? Nira? Nira? Just then, in a flash of light, Aliel stood in the fields of the Otherworld. The village up ahead, with the king's dune in the middle, danced with torchlight. Nira was gone, but Aliel, seeing that there wasn't an army waiting to ambush them, rushed back, to inform his men and begin the attack.

• 48:39Speaker 00

  There not only wasn't an army waiting to ambush them, there wasn't an army at all. Fergus emerged into the Otherworld, to the village burning midway through the attack. After they had kicked in a few doors, and found more than a few houses completely empty, Aliel realized that the place had been deserted. Fergus realized why. He warned them, Fergus roared, and practically flew back to the gateway, not to go through, but to search. Oh, Nira said it might send him to a different place when he comes back through, because they had been here recently. King Aliel said with a chuckle, at how foolish Fergus was being, stabbing clumps of grass in a field. Yeah, he lied to you so he could run, Fergus said, before shaking his head.

• 49:23Speaker 00

  Eyes darting around the darkened horizon, he spotted a group of trees, the only place to hide. Rushing over and looking for any movement in the dark, among the trees, Fergus swore and called for the men coming through the gateway to bring some torches. Fergus remained rooted, watching as the blaze caught the leaves and then the trunks, waiting for Nira to move, but aside from an unlucky deer Fergus punched after the fire singed its side, and a handful of squirrels and birds, nothing moved from the forest.

• 50:07Speaker 00

  Nira saw the forest go up, miles away. It wasn't Samhain, yet, but he got to experience his last Samhain fire, which, punctuated by Fergus's rage and what sounded like it could have been him punching a deer, made it the best Halloween ever. He had slipped through the gateway first, and that few seconds gave him a few minutes to get to the trees on the hillock. When Aliel went back through the gateway, he had several more minutes to run from the trees and get to his spot on the moors. He only stopped long enough to duck in some grass, when he saw the trees go up. Fergus, or anyone, wasn't watching this far out, but it was better to be safe.

• 50:48Speaker 00

  As soon as the horizon was dark, save for stars he didn't recognize, Nira kept moving. He traveled for days, stopping at villages here and there. The rumors and then the news of the human attack to the west soon overtook him. He ate enough to not starve and slept enough to not collapse, but kept going. About a week out, following their directions exactly, Nira came to a farmhouse on the outskirts of a grand village. He raised his hand to knock, but then stopped. She had been here for years now. What if they blamed him? What if she had moved on?

• 51:29Speaker 00

  He didn't end up knocking, because before his knuckles could touch the wood, the door opened. He was looking into her eyes, and though he moved to embrace her, another pair of arms found their way in, before Nira could manage. A four-year-old boy rushed to him and buried his face into the side of a father he had never known, but who would never leave again, because Nira was home.

• 52:10Speaker 00

  The Adventures of Nero, as the story is called, is a weird one. Good weird, of course, but it's the only story from folklore I've come across so far that has academic papers devoted to trying to understand the time travel that seems to take place in it. The story itself is broken up into two parts, the corpse and the journey to the other world. The other world half is much more interested in setting up the origins of the Toine. Episode 22 of this podcast, sorry about the pronunciations, the audio quality and delivery and the writing, but the second half of the story gets very handwavy about a lot of things, so I tried to fill in the gaps when I could. For example, it doesn't say that Nero warned the she, but he does go in a second time and come back with a cow and then stays with them after the humans cross over, so I

• 52:55Speaker 00

  considered it open to interpretation. I posted a source in the show notes. Next time is probably Beavis of Hampton, but that story just keeps growing, so we'll see. Real quickly, two things. Thanks to everyone who's filled out the survey so far. I really, really appreciate you and all your help. If you'd like, the survey's still up. I posted a link in the show notes. Also, we have a book coming out and it's coming out soon, so if you haven't preordered, please check it out. I think you'll love it. It's getting good reviews from early publications, which is amazing. Basically, it's a comprehensive telling of the King Arthur legends. First of three books in a series, and it's coming out December 1st. It's called For the King.

• 53:36Speaker 00

  Preorders are available and so super helpful, so thank you so much.

• 53:51Speaker 00

  The creature this time is the Awisot, from Aztec mythology. A really compelling villain thinks they're the hero. And the Awisot, a dog that lives in a lake and drowns people with a hand on the end of its tail, is no exception. Maybe. You see, in Aztec mythology, the Awisot was the guardian of lakes. And the small dog, smooth and shiny with pointed ears, with monkey hands for paws and a human hand at the end of its tail, well, it wasn't a fan of people fishing in the lake, so it would stop them by dragging them into the lake and drowning them.

• 54:31Speaker 00

  Fish are, it seems, cool with dead bodies just floating around. There were some fringe benefits for the Awisot for its service, namely, all the human eyes, nails, and teeth it could eat. Yum. I do start to question the motives of this creature, though, because it said that while it's able to sink the boats of people fishing, if you offer it a portion of your catch, well, it could be persuaded to look the other way. Even further, flying in the face of its guardian moniker is the fact that sometimes, according to some sources, it will imitate a baby's cry in the lake to draw humans to the water to attack them, which, at that point, just feels like entrapment.

• 55:14Speaker 00

  You might get to go to paradise, though. In exactly one version of this creature, they were sent by the gods Plaloc, the rain god, and Chauchiu Tlique, the goddess of rivers, seas, streams, and more, to collect the souls of mortals they liked. So, go you, I guess, maybe. If you lose someone to this creature, aside from the, like, 15% chance they're in paradise, you should know something else. Do not touch them, unless you're a priest. If you do, sorry, you'll likely be the Awisot's next victim. That, or you'll get gout.

• 55:58Speaker 00

  That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Colmes. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.

• 56:17Speaker 02

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