My son whipped around, his eyes darkening with malice.
“You lie!” he snarled.
Rolling my eyes, I sighed and admitted, “Yes, you are correct, my dear Caedehn. Time wouldn’t allow it. I’ll just have to exterminate the mortals once we’re done here.”
As much as I enjoyed bantering with him, I was eager to get the girl’s glamour and get out of this cursed weather. Goddess of chaos and strife I might be, but thunderstorms in Eile were intolerable. At the very thought of the strayling’s potent power, the faeduhn magic lifted its wicked head once again, pressing painfully into my own, natural glamour. Barely, I managed to hide a grimace and resisted the urge to press my hand to my heart. The last thing I wished to do was show weakness in front of those I would soon own, one way or another.
We chatted on, Caedehn and I, trading words back and forth as if neither of us really wanted to admit why we were here, on this barren field, beneath a brewing tempest. I enjoyed tormenting him, for the more I plucked and twisted his nerves, and the girl’s, the more the Darkness stayed in check.
The more I initiated discomfort and strife among others, the less my geis was enticed to force me into action. And, I was not ready for its unbearable wrath just yet. I never was. Casting those thoughts from my mind, I narrowed my eyes and sharpened my focus on those standing, or in the strayling’s case, sniveling before me. At one point in our conversation, I learned my son hadn’t told his little pet of our relationship. The Curse infecting my soul crooned at the girl’s shocked reaction, and I laughed, trying to distract myself from the pain its stirring caused. It wasn’t just my emotions the Darkness fed from. Sometimes, those nearby projected strongly enough that it absorbed their unease as well.
That’s right, I mused inwardly, Caedehn is my son, my own flesh and blood.
Despite the agony ripping through my glamour, I hoped the knowledge alone weakened the girl’s resolve. If so, she might be easier to subdue when the time came to harvest her glamour.
I cast Caedehn a sideways glance then, my brow furrowed as I studied the expression on his face. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the girl. And his eyes were ... strange. And not just Faelorehn strange. An emotion as unlikely as sunlight touching the ocean floor and just as unfamiliar, tried desperately to claw free of my heart. But, this particular feeling was the one the faeduhn magic despised the most. Before I could even detect its soft caress upon my soul, my Curse snatched it up and devoured it, ripping it apart and morphing it into something ugly.
I glared at Caedehn. The pain and anger of the Darkness driving me to resentment and antipathy.
“I never wanted a son. And here is proof as to why,” I spat, indicating the tall, handsome young man standing before me.
Pain lanced through my breast again, that age-old emotion and the faeduhn magic battling for dominance. I knew which would win, in the end, but I did not want to give in. Perhaps, if I pushed hard enough, I could feel ...
“Such a disappointment since birth,” I hissed, the Darkness wrenching free of my faltering grasp and lashing me with its poisonous dominance again and again.
Another stab of agony, enough to wipe my memory clean of what my heart so desperately wished to show me, and then, I could breathe again. But the experience left me exhausted and aggravated, and my bitter words reflected my mood.
“All I asked of you, Caedehn, was for you to keep my minions in line and to rein in any lost Faelorehn that might be useful. And here, you have the unwanted offspring of Danua and some Fomorian whelp, a combination you know is volatile and rich with magical potential, and you’ve kept her away from me all this time. Was that so much for a mother to ask of her son? To bring such treasures back to me? But you refused.”
My harsh words and volatile temper lessened my own pain, but only a little. As long as I followed my Curse’s direction, it would not hurt me so severely. Caedehn’s response further soothed my cursed magic, but then, he said something that sent me reeling, a memory I had tried so hard to erase from my mind tearing free from the place I had hidden it away.
“No matter what I choose to do,” he growled softly, “you’ll never be satisfied. You’ll never stop taking your anger with my father out on me.”
I had turned away from him briefly, to catch my breath and give my own glamour a chance to subdue the other, unwelcome power. But upon hearing those words, the Darkness rose again like a battle-hungry dragon.
“Your father,” I ground out, “took advantage of my good graces!”
Caedehn, my only son and the near spitting image of his sire, laughed out loud. “Your good graces? He tricked you, plain and simple, after you tried to beguile him. So really, you have only yourself to blame.”
Before I could form a retort, the faeduhn magic swirling beside my own glamour pulsed, seeking my pain and making it worse. It rushed in like floodwater cresting a river and carried me away from that rain-swept field. I blinked once and found myself standing in one of my memories, the one I had tried, and failed, to remove from my mind. Bitter regret and scorn curled in my stomach, and I clenched my teeth. Raging at the cursed magic that tormented me would do me no good, but I could not live through this memory again.
Turning in a near panic, I tried to find a place to flee. Perhaps, I could outrun what was to happen next. Fear spiked in my heart when I noticed the dark mouth of a cave, gaping beneath a hillside covered in ancient oak trees, just ahead of me. Mist clogged the sky above, and the limpid light suggested the time to be early evening.
I can still escape this, I breathed to myself. Simply turn away from the cave ...
But, it was too late. Like the sun breaking through clouds, a flame leapt up in the heart of the cavern, and a man stepped out. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore his dark red hair long. His chest was bare, as were his feet. The only clothing he wore was an old kilt that hung loosely around his waist. He looked good. He looked better than good. I knew right away he was more than just Faelorehn. This man had Tuatha De blood in his veins, but whose, I could not tell.
I sneered at him, ready to assert my authority as one of the goddesses of Eile. But then, he smiled, his glamour pouring forth from him like the heady scent of honeysuckle blossoms on a warm, summer morning. I had been known to seduce those men I found attractive, and I knew the feelings they invoked in me, emotions the Darkness consumed before I could recognize them. This was different.
“I thought to spend this evening alone,” the man said, his voice rich and deep, “but, here I stand, blessed by the spirits of Eile with such beautiful company.”
I had a snide remark ready for this stranger who thought to charm me, but when I opened my mouth to speak, only a sigh passed through my lips.
He moved in closer, his footfalls quiet against the mossy forest floor. With remarkable grace for such a tall man, he reached out an arm and extended it toward me.
I sucked in a breath and took a quick step back. He arched an auburn brow, his changeable green eyes shimmering like the rippling surface of a sun-warmed pond.
“There now,” he murmured, not moving any closer, “I will not hurt you.”
That statement made me scoff.
“Do you not know who I am?”
The man smiled again, sending heat through my veins. I waited for my faeduhn magic to turn that pleasant feeling into pain or disdain, but it did not. I eyed the stranger again, my brow furrowed. What power did he yield that he could make my Curse remain dormant?
“You are the Morrigan,” he said, his voice holding some reverence, “and I am no stranger to you either, I believe.”
I crossed my arms and gave him a pointed look. “I’m afraid we have not met.”
“I am Cuchulainn.”
Ah, yes. I had heard of him. The young, hotheaded half Tuatha De son of Lugh. He had been roaming about Eile, and the mortal world, for the past several years taking on challenges and helping win wars between the mortals. He was skilled in glamour, and he was said to possess the rare gift of riast
rad, an ability to transform into a more violent and powerful version of himself in the heat of battle.
But, he was no warped monstrosity at the moment. He was a pristine specimen of a man, even more attractive than most Faelorehn men I had come upon, and they were a race blessed with beauty and strength. Even as I admired the portrait he painted, I waited for my Darkness to punish me, as it always did, when I found myself enjoying any aspect of life. The waves of retaliation never came, though.
“And, as the Morrigan,” I finally said, returning to our conversation, “I am very busy.”
I had a battle to oversee the next morning, one which would help me reclaim a very desirable portion of my realm and one which would earn me some much coveted and needed glamour. My Curse was always hungry for more, and if I did not feed it, I was punished. Whatever this Faelorehn man was doing to me to keep that punishment at bay could only mean worse for me when I got away from him.
Turning, I meant to leave him behind and forget about this strange encounter.
“Wait,” he said, his voice low and breathy.
A heavy hand came to rest on my shoulder. In any other situation, I would have snarled and jerked free, cursing any lout who dared touch me without my consent. I was the goddess of war and strife. I was the one who seduced others to follow my whim, not the other way around. But, the moment his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin on my neck, something happened. Warmth radiated from his fingertips and palm, pulsing through me like a heady drug.
I turned back around, my eyes surely melting to a warm shade of ruby. He looked different now, this renegade hero of the Otherworld. A strange, but not unpleasant feeling wrapped around my heart and the Darkness that never let me be, remained silent. Dormant. As if it wasn’t even there.
Before I could protest, his other hand reached out, caressing my face. More of that tingling heat poured forth, and I gasped. Cuchulainn took advantage of my moment of distraction and bent his head, capturing my mouth in a bold, sensual kiss. I had kissed men before, men I meant to use and manipulate. Always, I controlled the situation. This was different. Now, I was the one being manipulated, the one being seduced. My mind knew this, fought against the torrent of unfamiliar and tantalizing sensations coursing through my blood, but I could not tear away from him. Giving up the fight, and in all honesty, relishing in the fact that my cursed faeduhn magic was doing nothing to bring an end to this strange joy, I gave in.
Without breaking our kiss, Cuchulainn swept me off my feet and carried me back to the cave. The awaiting battle be damned, my horrible geis be damned. For once, I knew what it was to be the one desired, the one indulged. And, for once, in my long, long life, that Darkness which controlled everything about me, that poisonous magic I both loathed and craved, that unshakable power which brought me pain every chance it got, was held at bay. For once, I could just feel, breathe, live without the accompaniment of punishment.
That evening, in a small cave tucked into the hills along the edge of my realm, I succumbed to a happiness so many before me had experienced. And for the very first time in my existence, what might have been the first smoldering embers of love kindled within my heart.
I woke the next morning feeling groggy and disoriented, and for a few spare moments, my body forgot what had taken place the night before. Between one breath and another, it all came back in vibrant detail: the handsome warrior, Cuchulainn, my dismissal of his attempts to charm me, his touch, rich with molten, seductive glamour and the passion that followed ...
Sighing, I rolled over, reaching out for the man who had chased away my Curse only to clutch at cool, abandoned blankets. The fire which had helped stoke the heat between us had also turned to cold ash.
“Cuchulainn?” I called out tentatively, cringing at the slight sound of desperation in my voice. I was the goddess of war, I was never vulnerable.
No answer came. The cave wasn’t very large, perhaps ten feet high and thirty feet deep, so I knew he wasn’t in there with me. That meant he was somewhere outside.
I stood, my head pounding and my nerves feeling as if they’d been rubbed raw. Clutching one of the blankets to myself, I stumbled out of the cavern entrance, hoping to find my lover. The sun was bright, piercing its way through the fading mist and thick canopy of oak leaves overhead. Determined to find Cuchulainn, I climbed the hillside hiding the cave. Perhaps, he had gone out to capture breakfast.
When I came to the top of the knoll and glanced down into the wide valley before me, my heart sank and memory came rushing back with a vengeance. My army of faelah and the Faelorehn men and women I had rallied to my latest cause lay dead and broken, scattered upon the ground for over a mile beyond my sight. Ravens, denizens of my own realm, circled above, many landing in the field to pick at the carnage. I grew utterly still, more of my memory returning as the pleasant aftereffects of the night before started to diminish. Years I had trained these soldiers and painstakingly gathered and utilized raw glamour to bring the faelah to life. Hours, days and months of hard work to form an army to regain a portion of my territory from my greedy Tuatha De brethren, and now, it was all destroyed. I had failed them. I had failed myself.
Cold realization flooded over me then, that raw knowledge that Cuchulainn had used me, seduced me in order to sneak away after I fell asleep to destroy my soldiers. Without my power to aid them, they had been helpless, camping overnight in the open until our weaker foe dared stand against them at dawn. Dawn was here now, bleak and grey and tainted with smoke and the rusty scent of spilled blood. My paltry enemy would have no challenger to reclaim what they had taken from me now.
I fell to my knees, a cavalcade of emotions swirling around my spirit. My heart sped up, and my breathing became labored. Sharp thorns pierced my knees through the blanket I wore as a mantle. I glanced down, not caring, but wondering if it was my faeduhn Curse finally stirring to life. No, not the dark magic seeking and wishing to amplify my pain. Thistles. The pale, downy white thistles of the wastes of my realm, their bright scarlet blossoms, bursting forth from the buds like cardinal plumes, matching the heat burning in my heart. A reminder of the sin cast against me, a white flag of truce stained with the blood of betrayal.
Anger, white hot and acrid, poured from my soul and flared out, licking at my nerves and throbbing like an infected wound. Anguish drove me to thrust my hands against the ground to keep from falling over, and the thistles pierced my palms as well. Ignoring the burning pain, I curled my fingers into fists, my own blood now streaming between my fingers. There, on that east-facing slope, I screamed, a long, low-pitched wail I drew up from the very heart of Eile herself.
The ache and rage and hurt swirled together, faster and faster, the faeduhn magic joining it and stoking it, until it became an almost tangible thing I could understand: hatred. I hated Cuchulainn, more than anything. Not because he had duped me, fooled me into thinking he might love me, but because he had shown me something I could never have. Not with my geis. Any feelings of love or joy or happiness were whisked away and transformed into something evil. But now, I knew what it was like not to be Cursed. For a few glorious hours, I had lived. And because that knowledge would make it even more painful than if I’d never experienced it at all, my hatred had a single target. I would find the man who had done this to me, and I would make him suffer as much as I now did.
Yes, the Darkness crooned, caressing my mind and sending shards of pain through my head. We will seek the blackguard, and we will make him suffer. Oh! And what delicious glamour he has. Think of the power we’ll wield when we have taken it from him!
Tears of anger stung my eyes, and I stared numbly across the blood-soaked plain.
I learned my lesson, I said to the Darkness. I will never let such weakness make me vulnerable again.
In the end, I was not the one to kill Cuchulainn, but I had put the path in motion, and I had been there, watching the events unfold. He died tied to a standing stone. When his spirit was ready to pass into Eile’s underworld, I to
ok my raven form and landed upon his shoulder, ready to absorb that potent glamour he had once dared use against me.
For the pain you caused me, I pressed into his mind, and for taunting me with what I will never have.
I could not tell if he was lucid enough to hear me, or to understand my words. On his last breath, his glamour rose like a fine mist, and I breathed it in, the faeduhn magic beside my own glamour swallowing it like a ravenous beast. When all his magic was gathered, I cawed once, an anguished cry of sorrow and regret, then took to the sky. My faeduhn Curse capturing my pain and amplifying it to the point of agony. This sting I knew, this torment I could live with. Yet, I flew on, trying to outpace it as I sometimes could, in my corvine form.
The sudden upwelling of chatter from my faelah pushed past the deep pool of memories and jerked me back to the present. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, then narrowed my eyes at Caedehn, the reminder of my regrets scraping against my patience. He looked so much like his father. Anger flared, and I demanded my son turn over the little chit he had grown infatuated with. What a fool he was, for he would call it love, what he felt for the girl. If only it were so easy, I thought bitterly.
But, I wanted her glamour. The Darkness wanted her glamour.
“I’ll not give her up,” Caedehn was saying. “I’ll fight your faelah, and if I win, you will forfeit your claim on Meghan.”
My eyebrow quirked at his claim. He would risk his life? For this girl?
That primitive twinge stirred in my soul once more, but again, my geis crushed it before I could identify it.
“If they win, I offer you all of my glamour in exchange for her safety. After all, I’m also the product of a volatile combination, and my magic is rather potent as well.”
The girl cried out in protest, but I ignored her.
“That might be enough to tempt me,” I crooned, my Darkness liking the idea of a challenge. “You do realize the price of your sacrifice, don’t you, my boy? There is only one way for me to get to your power.”
Once Upon A Curse: 17 Dark Faerie Tales Page 17