The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  Bat bristled. How dare he? “Maybe she just got tired of you… dithering?” She dropped her arms and braced her legs. She was not a goddess of war, but she knew a few things. She could probably remember them in time to kick this not-man’s ass, as Bastet—and Ailis—would say.

  A broad back appeared in front of her. Shar had slipped between them. “Do not.”

  Bat poked her head around him to see Dub and Mell on either side of Finn, fists clenched and eyes locked on the guardi.

  To intervene or not? “I’m going to the kitchen. I would like to try to make the tea for myself. If you will excuse me, I will leave you men to your... planning.” Bat slid from behind Shar and strode for the kitchen, not looking back. There was a scuff, the sound of wood hitting wood, and low words, but it didn’t seem any real violence was going to erupt.

  Shame.

  And you are letting Ailis rub off on you.

  She filled the kettle and banged a few cabinet doors. There was no tin of bags in sight. She didn’t actually know where the tea was kept; she’d have to get Shar to show her. Later. Pausing, she stood just out of sight of the pub common room and listened. They were still at it. She found a pad and pen in one of the drawers near the cupboard and wrote a quick note.

  Meet us at Benbulben.

  - Bat

  p.s. – arguing is a waste of time.

  She tucked the note under a mug and moved to the back door. Hand on the doorknob, she paused. Was she doing the right thing? It felt wrong to leave the brothers behind. Their hesitation, however, and inability to agree on a plan of action, was going to ensure that Grainne either succeeded in her plans or escaped justice yet again. The sense of urgency welled in her chest, and she yanked the door open. A small car, green of course, idled at the edge of the alley and Bat hurried to it.

  Ailis glanced over as Bat slid into the passenger seat. “Ready?”

  Bat twisted, sending one last look at the pub. “As I will ever be.” As they pulled out into the main street, she murmured, “Hope they find the note soon.”

  DUB

  She’d been gone too long.

  Finn was still going on about the baobhan sith. He kept arguing that if they could find her, the creature would lead them to Grainne. Except his logic was faulty because they already had someone who could lead them to the devil-woman. Finn had never been logical when it came to Grainne, though. Never. And that woman was poison, always had been, always would be. It was as though Finn couldn’t see it. Even now…

  “I’m telling you, the baobhan sith will lead us to the dagger. I should be trying to get her trace. They’re probably just using Grainne. And how do we really know what your goddess felt was Grainne and not the blade, or the sith?” Finn said. It was as though all the progress they’d made with him had disappeared overnight.

  Dub shifted on his feet, restless, as his brothers argued with the guardi. The guardi who was levelheaded and hard as nails on any other subject.

  “How long does it take to make tea?” Dub, not waiting for an answer, strode for the kitchen.

  It was empty.

  He slammed a hand against the wall beside the door. “Gods dammit.” Then he spied a scrap of paper under a mug. Snatching it up, he braced himself—for either a ransom note or confirmation that their goddess had taken matters into her own hands.

  “Where is she?” Shar asked from the doorway, Mell and Finn crowded behind him in the hall.

  “Benbulben. She and Ailis went off to Benbulben on their own.” He crumpled the note in his fist. Grabbing the keys from their place on a hook near the trim, he yanked open the back door. Borrowing Bat’s words, he called out, “Arguing is a waste of time.”

  The others scrambled behind him, echoes of curses ringing in his ears. “Wait,” Shar said, halting on the back stoop. “Do you have…?”

  “Of course. Get in.”

  Did Dub have his sword? No matter how many years went by, he never left home without it. What did his brother think of him? At times it had been his closest companion, folded in a pocket of space, and never far from him. A trick his father taught him, and that he had in turn shown his brothers. There had been one time he left it behind, a feast at a country castle near Lough Conn—the castle long since destroyed—and Shar never let him forget.

  He traced a quick rune of hiding and pulled out onto the main street. Pressing his foot on the gas, he sped through the roads, only twice needing to swerve to avoid pedestrians.

  “Did you…?”

  This time it was Mell asking and Dub hit the steering wheel. “What do you take me for? Of course, I did.”

  “It’s just that one time—”

  “I set the damn ward.” He knew his brothers were simply anxious—terrified more like—and restless at having to sit in a rusted old truck while their goddess was in who knew what trouble already, but couldn’t they have a little faith?

  He flicked a look in the rearview mirror, studying Finn. He was going to be the variable in this. The de Danann sat in tense silence, his gaze unfocused. Old memories flashed through Dub’s mind. The last time he’d been to that cursed mountain, he’d slain an immortal. He didn’t regret the action itself, only the necessity of it. “Diarmuid was a good man.” The words slipped from him and his stomach tightened. Diarmuid had been a good man, before…

  “Before Grainne, you mean.” Finn’s lips barely moved as he spoke.

  Dub held his silence. Yes, he meant before Grainne. As one trained in the ways of the Druid, and the Brehon, he was well versed in the law. Diarmuid had always abided, always respected the order of the universe, until that woman came along.

  For a time, she had held all the Fianna under her spell. As the soon-to-be wife of their leader, Finn, she had been idolized, exalted, celebrated. Even he had taken to calling her by the name of Bandia, naming her a goddess that she was not.

  Then, one night, under a moon that glowed down with silver, turning the countryside into a place he imagined resembled the Otherlands, he had seen her pressed against Mell, her hand tracing a path along his thigh. Mell’s emotions screamed out of him, a mixture of desire, lust, fear, and anger. There was even a splash of repugnance. Dub’s emotions had been confused: anger that Mell would betray Finn that way and jealousy that he himself had not been chosen. It was a dark moment for him, one of the darkest of his life. His hand had crept to his dagger and clasped the hilt. He had been ready to attack his own brother.

  Then Mell had gripped the woman’s hand, pushed it away, and said one word. “No.”

  It broke her spell, and Dub’s mind had cleared. He’d stepped up beside them, making his presence known. Though he didn’t say anything, Grainne’s eyes had narrowed on him, promising retribution if he, or Mell, breathed a word.

  They never had. And it cracked whatever bond he’d felt for his then leader, a man that—despite Dub’s heritage and upbringing—he had respected as honorable and just.

  Months later Grainne disappeared with Diarmuid, setting in motion events that led to the loss of too many innocents, and a battle on the fields below Benbulben.

  His left eyelid twitched. “I’m sorry,” he said now. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel as he pressed the accelerator, taking them up to speeds the truck was never meant to handle. The shudder of the overworked engine had the vehicle shaking right along with it, vibrating through his bones. He continued, needing to get the words out. “We should have told you. Mell and I, we should have told you what she was doing. With the men. But... you were so happy to have her as yours, and I... did not trust your reaction. She had a way about her.” He finished, knowing it was a paltry excuse, but it was all he had.

  “I always knew what she was,” Mell said. His words carried a hint of defiance. “How the rest of you couldn’t see it, I’ll never know.”

  In the passenger seat, Shar turned his head and looked out the side window. Even he, though not of the Fianna at that time, had been affected by this period of their past. He had b
een given the honor of guarding the Rowan—the tree that protected them all—by Dana herself. His brother didn’t talk about it much, but he knew Grainne had tricked him, allowing Diarmuid to gain access to the berries and destroy the tree.

  Silence, thick as the clouds that had rolled in above them, fell over the cab of the truck.

  Dub almost missed it. The damn turnoff wasn’t marked, and it had been too long since he came this way. He slammed onto the brakes, sending the truck into a skid before they came to a stop, the right half of the truck coming off the road.

  “Fuck, man, get it together,” Mell ground out, his arm braced against the door.

  Dub threw the truck in reverse, quickly backing up and turning onto the narrow lane.

  They were almost there. Almost there, almost there. He chanted the words as a light mist started falling, obscuring his view. He flipped on the wipers just as Ailis’s little green car came into view, parked on the narrow shoulder. He ground to halt, the tires kicking up damp gravel and gouging shallow ruts in the grass. Jumping out, he surveyed the low hills, the pink of early spring flowers standing out in clumps. Benbulben towered over them, the wrinkled upper slopes like a hag’s lips, but so green they pierced his soul.

  And, he didn’t see her.

  “Fuck, we need a way to track her after this,” Shar mumbled from beside him.

  If there was an “after this.” Dub pushed away the thought. Now was not the time. “Mell?”

  “Already on it.” Mell closed his eyes and his lips thinned.

  “Now is the time, Finn,” Dub said.

  The guardi nodded. Taking a deep breath, he held it in. “I could be off.”

  Dub growled. “Just tell us which way.”

  Finn pointed. Toward Benbulben, and to the far corner. Mell nodded, confirming.

  Fine then.

  Dub took off, putting his strength into his legs, transforming it into speed. What would take the others a precious ten minutes took him two. He rounded the far end of the mountain, one of the extensions that gave it the shape of a jaw, and sucked in a breath.

  The first person he saw was Ailis, crouched before a brown-haired creature in a flowing and ragged green dress. The baobhan sith. They circled each other slowly, Ailis holding a dagger, the blade tipped in red. As she continued to move, he saw that one side of her head was drenched in blood. She bared her teeth and lunged, catching the sith with the tip of the dagger and then jumping out of reach of the clawing hands.

  Ailis was doing fine. Now, where...

  There she stood, his goddess, her dark hair blowing about in damp strands. Her pink sweater was too big, her tights clashed with her boots, and there was a stain on one thigh. He hopped it wasn’t blood. Opposite her stood a woman who at one point had been the dream of many men.

  The only thing still beautiful about Grainne was her hair, a red gold that shone even in the rain. In reality, she looked the same as she always had, the lovely exterior that held the heart of a serpent. Now, though, her skin looked too pale, her eyes not dark enough, and her face lacked the graceful roundness of his goddess.

  In her hand was clutched a dagger glowing with a dark light.

  As he took his first step toward them, Grainne lashed out, much as Ailis had done with the vampire. He put all of his strength into his next strides, even as his goddess stumbled back, clutching her side.

  But, she didn’t fall. And in the next moments, Dub saw exactly why she was a goddess.

  Chapter 23

  Bastet,

  I’m wondering if I should tell you…

  But it does not seem to be my secret to tell.

  - Bat

  BAT

  Bat clasped her hands over the new wound. Unlike the gunshot, this one didn’t bleed as much. Nor did it have the same shock factor.

  Instead, it nicked her essence, and a piece of her fell away. The blade sucked it up. Bat could feel it now, just what this blade was. It was a... repository. The small part of her that it held showed her the other souls it kept captive. There was the little girl from her vision, and there was Diarmuid, his golden hair shining. He smiled at her with an appealing innocence that was in stark contrast to how she had seen him in her vision. Behind him stood others, men, women, some beautiful and slim, some shorter, and dark. She searched, but only saw those two familiar faces.

  Then she spotted him. Dano. He smiled at her, his red hair messy, and gave her a little bow.

  None of these spirits approached her or made any move to communicate. She could sense a little of what remained, mostly feelings of longing and remorse, but all she really felt was peace.

  Still... they were trapped in this place, used as the fuel for the magic of those who would use the blade. She reached out, seeking the connection that kept them bound. It eluded her, but in her search, she saw something new.

  The blade itself was not an evil thing.

  She had suspected as much, since she had only really ever sensed Grainne’s wickedness, never the blade’s. Now she could confirm it. In the distance, hidden behind rows of stolen souls, was a line of shadows, spirits so long trapped they were almost fully depleted. She could sense the same peace from them, but also purpose. They had chosen to enter the blade. Had chosen to give their lives. Because beyond these shadows was something even darker.

  The blade was a prison.

  As she watched, the little girl tilted her head and nodded. Then she turned and walked to the line of shadows, the other spirits parting for her. When she reached that line, one of the shadows held out its hand and the girl took it. She joined the line, her colors dimming as her energy joined the others... holding back that darkness.

  I need to be firmer in my questions on these soul blades when this is all done.

  Her attention returned to Dano and she held out her hand to him. He eyed it and slowly stretched out his own. When his palm should have met hers, though, it passed right through. Her fingers curled in and she smiled at him, a promise that she would be back. For hadn’t she also promised to gather the pieces of his soul and allow him a place in the Otherworld?

  She pulled her consciousness back from the blade and smiled at Grainne. “You have no idea what you are dealing with, do you?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. She really was beautiful, as the men had said. She would have easily been worshipped in Egypt—if she had been a true goddess. But you could not change your essence, your very fabric. This not-woman of the red-gold hair would only ever be that, a not-woman of finite power.

  Bat spread her arms and revealed her own essence to this woman.

  No, she did not have much power. But a goddess was still a goddess. She opened her mind’s eye and called to the stars above, to Sky Mother and Earth Father, not as a supplicant but as an equal. They filled her, lending her their power for this moment. Keeping her eyes locked on Grainne, Bat turned her hands until her palms faced up, and small swirls of light danced there. She opened her mouth, and words flowed from her.

  “She of the two faces, who has chosen. For she has saved herself from evil.”

  The sound echoed with the force of thunder above the red lands, with the power of Seth and Shu and Gub; with the music of three thousand stars, and the caress of Nut and Isis. And Bat remembered her creation, and the choice she had made. For in that choice was her salvation.

  She flicked her fingers at the figure that now huddled before her.

  “No!”

  A body slammed into her, just as another brought down Grainne. The power she held shot out, flying up into the sky. Whoever had her twisted in mid-air so that when they hit the ground she was cushioned by a solid bulk. Lapis eyes stared up at her, brows drawn together in a frown.

  “Dub?”

  “You are the most stubborn woman—goddess—agh.” Then his mouth slammed down on hers in a hard kiss, more frustration than passion. After a bare second, he pulled back, still frowning. “What were you thinking?”

  She opened her mouth to say she knew not what, wh
en something slammed to the ground beside her. Twisting her head, she saw a large black bird on its back, wings twisted and legs curled in. It didn’t move.

  “Fuck.” Mell stood over them staring at the bird. “You had to go and kill one of the Morrigan’s messengers, didn’t you?”

  What? What was he talking about? She hadn’t killed anything? Then she recalled the power that she had gathered and its wayward trajectory. “I’m blaming Dub for that.” Though, this creature didn’t deserve to die.

  The power was mostly gone, but Sky and Earth lingered in her, Earth holding a dark amusement. With a huff, and using the last of what they had shared with her, she repaired the snapped bones and broken feathers. She expanded the small lungs and beat the tiny heart. Then she called upon the Sky Mother one last time, bringing a spark of life to the animal.

  It jerked, squawked, and flipped to its feet. Flapping its wings, it snapped at her before taking off and disappearing over the crest of Benbulben.

  “Huh. Well, that may fix it.” Mell crossed his arms and glared down at her.

  Dub’s arms tightened around her as she twisted her head to where Grainne had stood a moment ago. This wasn’t over, and these brothers may have ruined their best chance of stopping the evil.

  The sight that greeted her was the fulfillment of yet another vision, and though it should not have surprised her, shock stole through her limbs. Grainne, with her hair—somehow dry—flowing down her back, gazed up at Finn with pleading eyes that glowed with a green as bright as the hills of this land. Her lips parted prettily, and her delicate hands were clasped at her middle. As Bat watched, those wide eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled in a way that almost fooled even Bat.

  “Please. Please don’t.” Her voice was soft, entrancing, and Bat heard echoes of power in it.

  Seduction. The fae’s power was that of seduction.

  Finn gripped the knife, a tremor, barely seen, making the blade seem blurry and insubstantial.