Gates of Eden: Starter Library

by Theophilus Monroe

  I leaped from the woman and dove into one of the children—a young girl, not yet come of age. Once my spirit touched her soul she, too, sprung to her feet and with a rope wrapped it around the thief's neck. She pulled. I lent her my strength. She pulled harder. The man gagged as he struggled to get free. She wouldn't allow it. I wouldn't allow it. I whispered to the girl—it was subtle enough that she'd think the thought was her own. She tied the rope to the back of the carriage and kicked the bandit's flailing body to the ground.

  I knew what to do next... even as the rest of the thieves who'd surrounded the carriage before began to scatter.

  I spoke to the horse. It began to gallop, dragging the first thief behind the carriage, his wounded crotch leaving a trail of blood-stained dirt behind them.

  And then, I heard the man cry again. No, not the bandit. It was the father who had been slain before...

  Thank you, goddess!

  Had I just answered my first prayer? Perhaps, as a goddess of death and war, it was only the prayers of the deceased I heard.

  As he cried to me, as I answered, my own body dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

  I reappeared... elsewhere. I stood before a giant cauldron. A flame raged beneath is and the potion inside of it was raging at a full boil. The potion itself swirled with several colors—reds, purples, and greens. Every bubble that boiled to a pop released sparks of golden magic into the air. The Dagda had said I'd usher the fallen to the cauldron of rebirth. This must've been it.

  "Where am I?" the man asked. I looked up, and the father who'd died just moments before stood before me.

  I cocked my head. All of this was new to me, too. But I certainly didn't want to let this man know that I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing. I was a goddess. I had to act like one.

  "You are in Samhuinn, the land of the dead."

  "So it's done... I am... dead?"

  I nodded.

  "And you are... I know you are a goddess... but what should I call you?"

  "I am the Morrigan," I said, trying my best to communicate benevolence through my smile.

  "And this cauldron..."

  "The cauldron of rebirth," I explained. Thankfully, as Anand, I'd studied the ways of the druids. I knew enough to at least sound like I'd done this before. "Like the seasons, our lives pass through seasons of growth, seasons of maturity, and seasons of decline. But once we've reached the season of death the cycle continues through rebirth. Once you enter the cauldron, your memories of your former life will be wiped away, but the wisdom you've gleaned will remain with you. You will carry that wisdom into your next life."

  "Will I be able to return to my family?"

  "It is beyond my control where or when you shall return." In truth, I wasn't sure if I had any say in such matters. Perhaps I did. If so, I didn't know how. "You may return as a child born just moments after you passed. Or, you might return a thousand years later..."

  The man sighed. "I wish I could tell my family goodbye... I wish I could hug my children one last time..."

  Tears welled up in my eyes."May the life you lived be a token of your love always present in their memories."

  The man nodded. "Thank you."

  I extended my hand. He took it and carefully dipped his toe into the boiling cauldron. He smiled, pleasantly surprised that despite the temperature, it did not scald his flesh. After all, he didn't have flesh anymore. He looked at me, nodded as if to signal his gratitude, and stepped inside.

  The potion simmered and popped...

  And he was gone.

  I blinked.

  I was back on the earth. Back in the form of the raven. I extended my wings and took off again into the skies. Was this what I was destined to be for eternity? Was I supposed to be the one who guided souls from death to rebirth? I didn't know what to make of that. Not like I'd ever had any real experience with death. I'd experienced loss, sure. I'd lost my mother. I'd lost Grainne. As Babd, Macha, and Anand my experience with death was limited. But I'd done more than help this man enter the cauldron of rebirth. I'd also saved his family.

  I could do more than guide the souls of the dead. I could save lives. I could intervene in the world... in tragedies like an attack on a family by bandits. Affairs when death lurked over people's lives, ready to pounce. Whenever murder was schemed in a human heart. Perhaps I could even affect the outcomes of war.

  It was only when blood was shed that this man's prayer, his plea, found my ears. Chances were, even in the short time I'd been the goddess of death, other people throughout the world had died, too. But I never met them at the cauldron. Why not? I didn't know. Perhaps some other gods or goddesses guided others to the cauldron. I was, after all, a goddess of war. Was it since this man died a violent death, and not quietly in his bed, that I was the goddess who had purview over his soul's reincarnation? Or maybe it had to do with the gods or goddesses he'd revered in life. Either way, I'd helped this man by protecting his family on his behalf. I'd seen him through death to rebirth. It was an honor.

  15

  CÚ CHULAINN AND Ferdiad circled one another in the arena. Cú Chulainn's weapon of choice was the spear. It was light. Easily thrown if a long-rage attack was called for. A broadsword, like the one his sparring partner Ferdiad carried, could break a spear with a single strike. But broadswords were heavy, Even under the ríastrad Cú Chulainn found them cumbersome. His agility had always been his advantage.

  Coupled with the ríastrad he could dominate Ferdiad. But Cú Chulainn hadn't revealed the ríastrad since he'd arrived in Scotland. If he were here to train, he wanted to train as a man. Become the best warrior he could be apart from the ríastrad. That required, beyond a lot of meditation and recitation of verse to quell the beast within, a certain degree of secrecy. Yes, Ferdiad was probably the closest friend he'd had since he was a child. But not even Ferdiad knew what he was... about the beast that raged inside of him.

  Ferdiad was a massive man, nearly two heads taller than Cú Chulainn. His thick coat of hair and beard gave him the semblance of a bear. While he was one of the gentlest people Cú Chulainn had ever met—under normal circumstances he wouldn't so much as swat at a mosquito—when he went to battle he fought with a fury that made him practically unstoppable. And for a man his size he was rather agile. But compared to Cú Chulainn he was slow. Cú Chulainn anticipated his strikes, moving out of the way, swinging around to strike him in the ribs with his raw-hide covered spear.

  Scáthach, the warrior-queen of Scots, circled the arena as she observed her two most prized pupils. She was a pretty woman despite the long scar that split her face, starting between her brows, crossing her nose, and down her right cheek. She never spoke of how she'd gotten the scar. Rumors abounded, of course. One of the most common was that she'd done it to herself—scorning her parents' attempt to marry her off to the wealthiest suitor when she'd first come of age. If the rumor was true it had apparently worked. Scáthach had never married. She preferred the intimate company of women—usually more than one at any given time—and given the fact bested most any man she'd ever faced in single-handed combat, no one who valued their life dared criticize Scáthach's choice of lovers.

  "You two fight like friends!" Scáthach said, shaking her head.

  "We are friends," Ferdiad said.

  Scáthach winced. "You are partners. I never said you should become friends."

  "What would you have us do?" Cú Chulainn asked, regretting it the moment he did. Scáthach's methods were unorthodox. What she'd come up with to solve what she deemed a problem would undoubtedly be painful.

  "As I see it, the two of you have spoiled one another. As you are, you're both worthless. I could make you fight to the death..."

  "Scáthach, please," Cú Chulainn said...

  "Silence," the warrior-queen interrupted. "I said I could do it. Doing so would kill the friendship that softens you both. At least one of you, then, would emerge the warrior you must become. I have not dismissed the idea. But your matches... it better rese
mbles two lovers dancing a jig than two warriors in a clash of arms."

  "We are not lovers!" Ferdiad said, his jaw dropped

  Scáthach grinned. "I know you are not. For, if you were, one of you would clearly emerge above the other."

  "I don't follow," Cú Chulainn said.

  "When two join in a tryst one must assume the superior position..."

  "With another man! I've never..." Cú Chulainn protest.

  Scáthach smirked. "Would I care if you had? My point is that if you two are to progress in your training we must find a way to put your friendship aside. I could compel you two to become lovers... I admit I'd enjoy that..."

  "I'd sooner die!" Ferdiad said, stomping his foot.

  "Men... so afraid to admit their attraction to one another... give up your feigned protest, Ferdiad. I can see through it."

  "There is no attraction!" Cú Chulainn insisted.

  "See how easy it is to get under your skin?" Scáthach asked. "You call yourselves warriors, but you find yourselves wounded by the mere suggestion that you might enjoy a few of the forbidden proclivities that most warriors give in to while at war."

  "I've never heard of such a thing," Cú Chulainn said, shaking his head in disgust.

  "Because you've never been to war. And those who have never speak of such things. Especially to those who haven't been in combat themselves. War changes men and women alike, in ways you'd never imagine. War heightens every sense a man might possess. It awakens lusts, passions, and thrills that most would never entertain under usual circumstances. But such taboos are only so because of custom. But when you are in war all custom, all tradition, is forgotten. There is you... your fellow soldiers... the enemy... and the thrill. War brings out the truth, our true desires... even if those desires might be what the elders of your tribes might call forbidden."

  "I promise you," Ferdiad said. "I have no hidden desire to lie with another man."

  Scáthach chuckled. "I was speaking of the willingness to kill another human being, but the fact that you felt the need to defend yourself on that point is revealing."

  Ferdiad gripped his blade tightly. Scáthach was getting under his skin—but that was her style. She wanted her warriors angry. She wanted them to train with a rage that they might learn to use their rage to their advantage in battle.

  After all, as Scáthach had insisted many times, the thrills of war are unruly. She didn't believe in subduing the rage, mastering it, like Cú Chulainn had learned to do to keep the ríastrad at bay. Rather, she believed in unleashing it at the proper time. Only Cú Chulainn knew that if he allowed her to do what she intended if she discovered what he was, there'd be no going back. She'd insist he use the ríastrad, even in training. If people got killed, so be it. Cú Chulainn respected the warrior queen's skill and learned what she taught—but he wouldn't allow her to tap into that part of him.

  "Ferdiad," Scáthach said. "You're dismissed for the day. Your turn will come tomorrow."

  Ferdiad nodded, kicked at the dirt, gave Cú Chulainn a friendly nod, and shuffled his way out of the arena.

  Scáthach took Cú Chulainn by the hand and looked into his eyes. "Now, young would-be warrior. Let's see if you can control your rage against a woman."

  "You want me to fight you?"

  Scáthach laughed. "I am not going to fight you."

  "You want me to... sleep with you?"

  Scáthach laughed even harder. "You couldn't handle me in bed any better than you could handle me on the battlefield."

  "I don't understand..."

  "I have another... partner... for you to spar against today."

  Scáthach placed two fingers between her lips and released an ear-piercing whistle. Cú Chulainn winced at the sound—on account of the hound within him such high-pitched sounds that most human ears casually tolerated were particularly piercing. Moments later another woman appeared—a woman smaller than the warrior-queen, her hair long and reddish-orange. Her face was freckled, as was often the case for women who had such hair. She was cute. She held a small dagger in her hand.

  "Cú Chulainn, this is Aife."

  "You expect me to spar her?"

  "You think you can take me?" the young red-head said, defiant in tone.

  "No offense," Cú Chulainn said. "I'm sure you're more than capable. But yes..."

  Scáthach grinned. "Aife and I grew up together. She's the only warrior in all of Scotland who had ever bested me. Though I should say, she's only done it once."

  "I'd do it again, lass, if you'd ever accepted my offer of a rematch!"

  Scáthach smiled. "Aife has a certain fire in her belly..."

  "Fire or not," Cú Chulainn said. "You seriously think we'd be evenly matched?"

  Scáthach shook her head. "Not at all. I think, Cú Chulainn, you are no match for her at all... at least not as you are. Take your places and prepare for a match."

  "What do you mean, 'not as I am?'" Cú Chulainn asked as he assumed his fighting stance and gripped his spear.

  Before Scáthach answered, Aife released a howl. Cú Chulainn turned away from the warrior-queen and looked at his opponent. She'd changed. Her hair, still orange and red, had grown and now covered her whole body. Her skin had thickened and her frame had expanded. Aife had the ríastrad.

  "Scáthach! You want me to face her!"

  "Not as you are. I know your secret, Cú Chulainn. I've always known. Did you think I hadn't heard the rumors that spread about you from Ulster?"

  "I cannot allow it... I can't let it out..."

  Scáthach ignored Cú Chulainn's protest. "That is not the only news that has reached me from Ulster. You came here, did you not, seeking to prove your worth that you might acquire Forgall's blessing to marry his daughter?"

  "I did," Cú Chulainn said. "What of it?"

  "I have it on good authority that Forgall has betrothed Emer to Lugaid mac Nóis, king of Munster."

  "What? How do you know this!"

  "It does not matter. But I can assure you it is true."

  "No! Forgall... he sent me here not to earn Emer's hand but..."

  "But so that he could be rid of you," Scáthach finished Cú Chulain's thought as she walked circles around him.

  Aife snarled on the opposite side of the arena. Cú Chulainn shook his head, clenched his fists, and screamed.

  "That's it!" Scáthach said. "Unleash the monster inside of you. Release the anger!"

  The next thing Cú Chulainn knew a red ball of fur collided with him, sending him tumbling to the ground. It wasn't the collision that unleashed his rage—it was what Scáthach had said... what Forgall had done. But he still had the faerie's gift. He had the ability to control the wolf. And he had the means—he had his poetry, his tales. He needed a verse... something that would make sense of everything.

  The collision with Aife didn't give him the time to think. He had no choice. He allowed the ríastrad to emerge. His skin hardened. His brow broadened and thick fur covered his body. The wolf wouldn't fully take over, not now. He had enough control to influence the beast. But he'd been taken by surprise. Not just by Aife, who now had him pinned to the ground, but the news about Emer's betrothal. All he had over the ríastrad was influence... the rest was all beastly instinct.

  His jaws locked with Aife's as their bodies tumbled through the dirt.

  Fur, fangs, rage... and lust.

  Pain and pleasure, all at once. Claws tearing at one another's flesh even as their two bodies merged in carnivorous passion.

  There was no sense in trying to resist. All the pain, the betrayal, the heartache. He'd loved Fand once, but she'd been given to another Faerie. And he'd finally allowed his heart another chance to love, he'd placed all his hopes on being with Emer. That was gone, too. Now there was Aife, the ríastrad—two of them—coming together like it had been destined by the primordial gods. But love had nothing to do with it. Not for Cú Chulainn. Not for Aife. They'd never so much as seen each other before. This was bestial desire—an irresistible, animali
stic urge.

  He might have been able to stop it. If he really wanted to... but why would he want to? He had no one left whom he might love.

  16

  SO MANY BATTLES. Warriors, passing from this life into the next. The confusion on people's faces when they encounter me for the first time. At first, no one knew who I was. They realized I was a goddess. They knew I'd appeared to guide them into the thereafter. But they didn't know who I was. Until they did.

  I don't know if it was because I hated war or because I loved it. As Babd, I'd never had much taste for it. But as Anand, I couldn't get enough of it. It wasn't the death and bloodshed that drew me in. It was the passion of men as their spears and blades clashed. As Anand, I'd often played a role in helping our father develop strategies for victory.

  Split the army into threes, lure in the enemy with a small force giving them the illusion that they had the upper hand. Then, attack them on the flank with two other armies, hidden in the forests and bushes. I'd come up with the strategy—Anand did, that is. And my father used it liberally. It worked until people got wise to it. Then, we had to think of something else.

  As Babd, though, I was more inclined to spare as many lives as possible. I wanted to align myself with whatever side I believed deserved to win. It wasn't necessarily whatever side had the more just cause to go to battle. For instance, I once came upon a village that had been attacked by another army without provocation.

  The army was short on resources and sought to take what they required. One would think, as a goddess of war, I should come to the defense of the village. Only this particular village was dominated by cruel men, men who beat their women as if their wives were slaves, men who were pompous and arrogant. Sure, they had done nothing in the course of the conflict at hand to warrant the attack. But in this particular case, the army that attacked them was an army of men who honored their women, who trained their children to honor the gods... So, I helped the army succeed in destroying the village. The women and children, while they were terrified and lamented the loss of their men, would be better off even if taken captive by their enemies. And they were...