Girls Who Slay Monsters sampler

‘It is she who goes in the shape of a water spider or a whale, who transforms herself into the shape of a fly or into a person’s best friend, whether male or female, so that the secrets of all are entrusted to her.’

– ACALLAM N A S EN ÓRAC H (TALES OF THE ELDERS), 13TH CENTURY

BÉ MANNAIR Spy

B

é Mannair (Bay Man-air) was a beautiful goddess known for her pretty freckles and butterscotch-coloured hair. But she wasn’t happy with how she looked because she didn’t feel like a girl inside and

wondered if she’d be more comfortable as a boy. The goddess felt trapped in her body – and sometimes felt like scratching her way out of her skin.

To distract from such sadness, Bé Mannair focused on becoming a great soldier and general like her mother, Áincel. They both lived in the Otherworld army barracks, a towering gold fortress guarded by swarms of bright pink bees. Here, legions of soldiers trained in huge golden halls that echoed with the ring of striking swords and the steady clap of marching feet.

But Bé Mannair wasn’t as strong as the boy soldiers or as skilful a fighter as her mother. Being different was lonely.

One day at training, she got so frustrated that she screamed aloud.

‘I wish I were a bird so I could fly away!’

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At once the goddess doubled up in pain. She felt as though invisible needles were trying to puncture her skin. After a few excruciating seconds, fluffy red feathers sprouted on her arms – just like wings. She had transformed into a bird! Painful though it was, Bé Mannair was delighted – she was able to shapeshift and was no longer trapped in her girlish body.

The goddess spent months practising her new skill until soon she could change into any animal, whether it slithered, swam, or crawled.

She loved the freedom of switching from one form to another and was soon one of the most talented shapeshifters in the Otherworld.

Thanks to Bé Mannair’s power, Áincel proudly selected her daughter to be an army secret agent.

‘Soldier,’ she told Bé Mannair, ‘your mission is to go to Ireland and spy on a band of mortal warrior men known as the Fianna. They are rumoured to be plotting against the gods. We need you to root out their secrets and report back to the barracks.’

Bé Mannair was thrilled to be of use to her people and felt she had found her true purpose. ‘They’ll never see me coming, Mamaí – I mean, General! I won’t let you down.’

Immediately, Bé Mannair used her special skill. One by one, her freckles darkened in colour and lifted off her skin. Each freckle grew delicate little

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legs that crawled all over her. Then in a sudden burst, Bé Mannair’s body erupted into a cluster of tiny black spiders that scuttled to the ground in different directions. The spiders spread across the Celtic lands and into hundreds of homes so Bé Mannair could spy everywhere at once. She spun webs and perched in dark corners until no secret was unknown to her.

She soon learned the Fianna headquarters was in the Irish harbour town of Howth. There, they held secret meetings on an offshore ship, away from prying ears.

Every tiny spider scuttled its way to the rocky cliffs of Howth Head.

They clustered together, bringing Bé Mannair back to her goddess form.

Without delay, she dived from a cliff and plunged into the cold waters of Dublin Bay. As the goddess swam deep into the ocean, her body grew bigger, thickening and turning blue. This time, her freckles rose into white barnacles as she transformed into a giant humpback whale.

Bé Mannair swam on until she arrived at the hull of the warrior ship, where she broke through the surface and sprayed great gushes of saltwater through her blowhole. The men on board didn’t pay her any attention, as they often saw whales in these waters. So the goddess swam around the ship, listening in on their conversation.

‘I can barely believe we found a secret entrance to the Otherworld!’ one warrior said.

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‘And after so many years of searching,’ said another, ‘to think it was in a local cave, right under our noses.’

‘Well, our search is over, lads,’ said a third man. ‘We must be brave when we storm the Otherworld tonight. If anyone can fight the gods and steal their magical treasures – it’s us!’

Bé Mannair was shocked. The Fianna were to attack that very day!

As she watched the men leave the ship and take a boat back to shore, the goddess knew there wasn’t enough time to warn her army. She would have to fix this herself. But should she transform into a stampeding bull or a swarm of stinging bees? She guessed no ordinary animal could stop these fierce warriors.

Then again, Bé Mannair was no ordinary shapeshifter, and a bright idea came to her. She swam fast to reach the shore and, using all her power, Bé Mannair turned herself into a young mortal man!

As a boy, he ran to catch up with the warriors. ‘Men!’ he called out.

‘Where will I find the legendary Fianna warriors? I have travelled a long way to join their ranks.’

‘We are the Fianna,’ they replied. ‘But we are not recruiting. Go home, boy!’

‘You can’t be the heroes I’ve heard about,’ Bé Mannair said, puffing out his boyish chest. ‘I’ve heard Fianna warriors are nine feet tall and stronger

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than Irish elk. Half of you are smaller than me, with stumpy legs and beer bellies. I could beat every one of you in a running race around Ireland!’

The men were surprised by this cheeky stranger but couldn’t resist accepting the challenge.

With that, Bé Mannair began to run so fast the wind rushed in his ears and the trees and mountains were nothing but a blur of colour. The men gave chase across every county. As they reached the beaches of Derry, Finn McCuamhaill, a Fianna warrior twice his size, overtook the god.

By now, Bé Mannair felt as though his muscles were on fire and his legs might seize up, but he wasn’t about to let his army down. So he pushed himself harder, and by the time they reached Donegal, he had left Finn in his dust.

In Mayo, Finn’s talented son, Oisín, barged into the god and almost ran him off a cliff. But he shoved Oisín away and sped ahead, racing on through Clare to Cork, and Wexford to Wicklow. In just three hours, Bé Mannair arrived back to Howth beach. He had beaten every one of the warriors by more than a mile!

By the time the men finally caught up, they knew this was no ordinary boy before them. They had come across gods before and realised Bé Mannair was from the Otherworld. So they kneeled before him as if in worship.

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The god told them they needn’t pretend to show respect.

‘I know your plan to steal from my people,’ he said. ‘And I warn you, your loss against me today is nothing compared with what will happen if you face my mother in battle!’

Beaten before their attack had even begun, the men sheepishly returned to their ship.

Back home, Bé Mannair returned to female form and reflected on her transformation. She enjoyed being a boy but being stuck in that body all the time wouldn’t make her any happier than being stuck as a girl. Instead, she was happy to know she had the freedom to be both, or neither at all.

The gender-fluid goddess was finally comfortable in her many skins and happy to protect her people in her own special way.

Soon, the talented and quick-thinking Bé Mannair became the stuff of legend – as the shapeshifter spy who saved the Otherworld.

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NAME MEANING:

R E L AT I O N S H I P S :

Woman of Destruction

Her mother’s name, Áincel, meant Bad Omen, since the sight of her was bad

P OW E R:

news for enemies.

Shapeshifting

V I S I T:

Twenty-five species of whales have been spied off the coasts of Ireland and the UK. Look carefully, and you might see one spying back!

D I D YO U K N OW:

M AG I C S P E L L :

Bé Mannair’s mortal enemies

Ancient Celts believed in the

hired a secret agent of their

magic of words. Bé Mannair may

own called Bé Dreccain

have accessed her shapeshifting

(meaning ‘Dragon Woman’).

power when she cried out her

Although human, she was

desire to become a bird. Today,

raised by a witch and could

many spiritual leaders believe

practise magic. This skill helped

when we speak aloud what we

her find Otherworld entrances

want from life, the words will

and steal some of its treasures.

create our experience. ‘Briocht’ is the Irish word for this type of positive incantation or wish.

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‘[Fand] with the green cloak went up to him, and smiled at him, and gave him a stroke of a horse switch … and continued for a long tune to do this … until he was nearly dead.’

– THE S ICK-BED OF C UC HULAIN N, 12TH–17TH CENTURY

FA N D Eco-Warrior

F

and was a feisty emerald-eyed shapeshifter who lived in the Otherworld’s Plain of Happiness. It was a hidden realm under the Irish Sea, where gods rode fearsome water horses under a lilac sky

and caught shoals of glittering fish in the plentiful waters.

But despite the beauty of the land, Fand believed life was very unfair to the creatures who lived there.

For a start, she didn’t think gods should ride horses – the animals couldn’t give their consent and they were no one’s property to possess.

So, several times, while the owners slept at night, Fand set their horses loose to roam across the land. She also disagreed with eating animals, so she secretly replaced catches of fish with carrot pies!

When news arrived that war had broken out against demon enemies and fierce battles were taking place in the mortal world, Fand was terrified that innocent animals might get caught up in the chaos and be killed. ‘They don’t deserve to suffer just so monsters and men can squabble over land!’

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The goddess decided she must warn creatures of the mortal world to stay away from the battlefields. So, she left her realm and swam up through the sea to Ireland, to find sea birds swooping through the sky. She called out to them in the speech of the gods, but the sound that came out of her mouth was a bird squawk. She felt her lips protrude and harden into a beak, as her arms sprouted sea-soaked green feathers that glittered like emeralds in the sun. As a bird, she felt a connection to the still centre of nature and her worries faded.

Instead, she felt the joy of being! But she hadn’t forgotten her mission, so she spread her wings and flew, fearless and swift like a spring wind, all along the Irish coastlines, until one hundred and fifty flocks – from black-headed gulls to curve-beaked curlews – soared by her side, spreading the message of war.

Soon, they flew close to the coast of Ireland’s County Louth, where she noticed a handsome mortal boy on the beach. He was with friends, riding stallions in a Halloween festival race.

She pitied the horses but couldn’t help marvelling at the boy’s beautifully coloured hair – brown at the front, blood-red in the middle, and golden at the back. She slowed to watch when he left the race to cool off in the waves.

But to her horror, just before the boy reached the water, one of his friends handed him a spear, and the pair began hunting her fellow birds.

Fand quickly defended the flocks by blocking them from harm. She assumed the mortal would recognise her as a god and put down his

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spear. But when the boy spotted her glittering feathers and pictured how beautiful a cloak they would make, he tried to spear her instead. The weapon pierced Fand’s wing and sent her plummeting into the ocean.

The goddess felt dizzy and sick as her blood swirled into the water.

She washed up onto the shore where she changed back into a goddess – her green feathers transforming into a long velvet robe. Taking a sharp, jagged shell, Fand cut the robe’s cloth and used it to bandage her bleeding arm. For a little while she rested and tried to recover.

By now, the boy had killed, roasted and eaten a couple of birds. Sleepy after his heavy meal, he pulled his horse by the reins and staggered away to sleep under a gnarled hawthorn tree. Sometime later, he woke to see a beautiful but fierce-looking girl standing over him. Her cloak was the same shade of green as the bird he had speared, and she cradled a bandaged arm. The boy was confused for a moment but then it dawned on him – this girl was the bird and he had injured her quite badly.

Fand was already very angry, but when she noticed a whip lying near the mortal and correctly guessed he used it to beat his horse, her anger turned to fury. She snatched up the whip and, smiling at him, she used it to lash the boy. He moaned loudly as the whip split his skin and he soon seemed nearly dead. But then, in an instant, his wounds knit back together again. Fand couldn’t believe her eyes.

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‘What kind of mortal heals so easily as this?’ she demanded.

‘My father is a god,’ he told her, puffing out his chest. ‘I am Cú Chulainn, the hero-in-training.’

‘You’re no hero of mine,’ she replied. ‘You deserve to be as helpless as your prey!’

With the force of her rage, Fand put a terrible curse on Cú Chulainn.

She lashed the boy again and this time his wounds wouldn’t heal, so he felt the pain of every bird he’d killed and every horse he’d whipped. He cried out in agony and begged her to remove the curse.

Eventually she agreed, on one condition. He must give up hunting and instead use his strength to fight for the gods against their demon enemies.

Cú Chulainn gratefully accepted Fand’s terms and immediately left the beach to go and fight with the gods in war. He became a great warrior, winning many battles and saving countless lives. Cú Chulainn remained true to his word and never forgot Fand’s beauty or eco-warrior spirit.

Years later, he returned to their beach and called out over the skies.

He had come to realise that he loved this brave and sensitive goddess. He wanted to spend his life with her.

The birds heard his call, and when word of Cú Chulainn’s love reached Fand, she fluttered with happiness. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she had thought he was handsome, so she happily

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agreed to be his girlfriend. For one dreamy month, the two lovebirds spent every moment together. They swam in the sea and foraged for blue asparagus that grew along the dunes. And at night, they lay on sun-burned sand, gazed at the stars, and planned an eternity together.

Until, one day, Cú Chulainn’s wife arrived to take him home! Fand was shocked.

Cú Chulainn had been away fighting for many years, but it never occurred to her that he had married during that time. Hurt as she was, the goddess was equally upset for Cú Chulainn’s wife. Her name was Emer and, heartbroken without her husband, she had bravely travelled across Ireland to try and find him.

Fand realised that, although Cú Chulainn had given up hunting, he still didn’t care how he hurt others. But the goddess was protective of all animals, including mortal women.

‘Don’t worry, Emer,’ Fand said. ‘This man is yours.’

Then she turned to Cú Chulainn. ‘You might be beautiful. But if you don’t go with Emer, I will whip you again. And this time you won’t recover!’

He did as he was asked.

Fand transformed into a bird, flew up to the sky, and left their beach, never to return. Instead, she lived wild and free, watching over the waves, sky, and animals. And for the eco-warrior Fand, that was all she needed.

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NAME MEANING:

P OW E R:

Teardrop of Beauty

Shapeshifting, curse-casting

V I S I T:

The beaches of County Louth, where Fand first met Cú Chulainn

D I D YO U K N OW:

M AG I C S P E L L :

In later life, Fand married

Cú Chulainn’s promise to

Mannanán, the Irish god of the

Fand may have been an Irish

sea and guardian to the Isle of

géis. This was a magically

Man – so named in his honour.

‘unbreakable promise’. Usually,

Together, they protected the

women cast the géis on men.

oceans and skies from harm.

The men who broke their promises usually died or were badly disgraced in some way.

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‘There was a stone here in Tara … when a King of Ireland came onto it the stone shrieked under him and the chief waves of Ireland answered it, the wave of Clídna, the Wave of Tuaide, and the Wave of Rudraige.’

– ACALLAM N A S EN ÓRAC H (TALES OF THE ELDERS), 13TH CENTURY

CLÍDNA Chief Wave of Ireland

C

lídna (Clee-nah) was the restless fair-haired daughter of Irish and Manx sea god Manannán.

She spent her childhood exploring every hidden corner of

her Otherworld home, the underwater Land of Promise. Hidden inside a deep-sea canyon off the Isle of Man, it was an underwater kingdom surrounded by a reef of sponges and rare black coral.

Clídna’s closest companion was the sea itself. She followed its current everywhere – through caves, along the rocky seabed, and deep into vast kelp forests. Together, Clídna and the sea examined fleshy coral reefs of Dead Man’s Fingers, played with velvet crabs, and even discovered sunken treasure. But there was one part of the ocean that Clídna never found time to explore – the surface.

The goddess spent her days in dull meetings with sea witches, mermaids, and all kinds of creatures, discussing their problems and making decisions.

It was too serious for the playful goddess, and she felt trapped.

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‘I can’t live without adventure,’ Clídna decided one day. ‘For once, my royal duties can wait. I’m going up to the surface to see what’s out there!’

When the goddess reached the top, it was exactly as she’d hoped.

The waves were choppy with excitement, greeting her in loud crashes.

Together, the goddess and the ocean watched a fiery sunset, seabirds swoop, and ships sail over the inky horizon. It seemed so magical.

But while she was distracted, a slimy fishing line hit the back of her head, its hook catching her hair! Panicked, Clídna tried desperately to pull away, but with every movement, the line became more entangled.

She twisted around to see who was trying to trap her. There, rocking in the waves, was a tiny boat, its shadowy owner rowing towards her.

Clídna was about to scream out for Manannán when her attacker’s face lit up in the moonlight. He was young and handsome, with copper hair and warm hazel eyes. As he gazed at Clídna, her body wrapped in seaweed, he was as mesmerised by her as she was by him.

He gently untangled Clídna from his line and lifted her into his little boat.

‘What are you?’ the goddess asked. ‘Are you a mortal?’

‘Well of course!’ he said, laughing. ‘My name is Cíabán. And I rowed all the way here in search of a better catch.’

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Clídna thought he was very brave. Having lived all her life in cold water, she never felt as warm as when he looked at her now. Was this what it felt like to fall in love?

Cíabán assumed Clídna had fallen overboard from a passing ship and offered to take her home on his boat. She wished she could tell him the truth and take him to the Land of Promise instead, but she knew he would never survive underwater.

She decided her duties could wait a day or two and agreed to go with him. Her father might be angry with her for running away, but it would be worth the trouble for this adventure.

Cíabán took Clídna to the coastal village of Glandore, in Ireland’s County Cork. Here on the shore, everything was so new and interesting. The smell of damp earth after rain filled her with wonder. The sight of ageing, greyclothed mortals was so exotic. In Cíabán’s hut, she felt the heat of a fire in the grate. And when the goddess met his family and took part in their daily lives, her days flew by in a whirlwind of fire-roasted fish, dancing jigs, and riding horses. Without realising, Clídna had been away from home for a year.

When Cíabán asked for her hand in marriage, it was yet another exciting experience she didn’t want to miss. So she said yes.

But as the months wore on and the wedding date loomed, something didn’t feel quite right for Clídna. At first the feeling was like a sand pebble

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in her shoe, small but distracting. Soon, the feeling grew and grew until it became a beach rock sitting heavy in her stomach.

Finally she understood what was wrong – ‘I miss Father. I miss the sea witches, the mermaids. And I miss the waves!’

So one night, the goddess crept down to the harbour and stole a boat, rowing hard out to sea. She wasn’t a strong rower but trusted the current to guide her home as it always had on their adventures together. But as a harsh wind started to blow and heavy rain fell, she found herself lost in the middle of the ocean.

Clídna cried out over the crashing waves, calling for her father. No one answered.

There was only one thing left to do. The goddess jumped out of the boat and plunged head first into the cold current, but to her horror, she quickly discovered she could no longer breathe underwater. The salt of the sea stung her eyes and burned her throat.

Gasping and confused, Clídna pulled herself back into the boat and felt more trapped than ever before. She realised Glandore was the only home she had now, so with no other choice, she rowed back to her little hut.

Over the following weeks, not knowing what else to do, the goddess cooked, cleaned, and planned the wedding. But every night she slipped away to the harbour, gazing out to sea and wishing for the Land of Promise.

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On the night before her wedding, Clídna returned to the shore one last time, crying out to the emptiness. ‘Take me back my darling waves and I will never leave you again!’

Her voice carried over the ocean, giving way to empty silence. But just as she turned to make her way back to the hut, a sad melody echoed faintly across the water. From far off in the distance, she recognised her father’s lonely song.

The sea was guiding her home.

Clídna threw herself into the water, swimming as hard as she could, and the current swelled up to meet her. As they embraced, she felt her body float away, and she poured like pure energy into the water, magically becoming one with the wave.

It was the most free she had ever felt.

The goddess swirled under the ocean, onto the ground, into the atmosphere and filled every crevice of the earth. Then she surged back onto the water’s surface as a wave, droplets of her body dancing in the air. Fish leaped up from the sea to greet her; birds dove down from the sky to kiss her. And soon she was home where her father rejoiced to have his daughter once again – no longer a young girl limited to one place or body, but part of the very sea itself.

From then on she was known as ‘Clídna’s Wave’, one of the chief

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waves of Ireland. No new king could be crowned in Ireland without first standing upon the Lia Fáil (Stone of Destiny) on Ireland’s royal Hill of Tara and waiting to hear Clídna’s Wave crash against Ireland’s cliffsides to sound her approval. And she had great adventures, crossing paths with many gods and heroes and going wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

But Clídna never forgot Cíabán.

Whenever he or his family sailed on the sea, she protected them from harm and pushed fish up into their nets. To this day, Cíabán’s blood flows in many Cork families and some say the magical ‘Clídna’s Wave’ still protects his ancestors.

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NAME MEANING:

R E L AT I O N S H I P S :

Shapely

Clídna may have been Gaulish goddess

P OW E R:

Clutonda, worshipped

Transformation into a chief

across Europe.

wave of Ireland

V I S I T:

Glandore Harbour in County Cork and Carrig-Cleena, a town named in Clídna’s honour. You can also visit the still-standing Lia Fáil on the royal Hill of Tara. And if you hear Clídna’s Wave call out, then perhaps you are fit to rule Ireland!

D I D YO U K N OW:

M AG I C S P E L L :

One of the Cork families that

Celts believed that thoughts

Clídna is said to protect is

could shape life. A master of

the Collins family. In modern

the language, Manchán Magan

times one descendant –

explains the Irish word ‘mothaím’

Michael Collins – was a famous

means ‘I feel’, but its older, truer

revolutionary and Cork native.

meaning is ‘I bewitch’. Clídna

As a boy, he loved hearing local

may have accessed her ability to

tales of Clídna’s adventures.

become a wave when she realised she wanted to be with the sea.

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