Death was there as he had to be and he, too, waded in to do battle. But Apkieran was waiting for him and amidst the swirling dust and blood-filled air the two met. They lunged as one, their weapons forgotten in their battle madness, but neither could touch the other. Death swore in fury and Apkieran laughed.
"Even Death cannot kill he who is already dead!" The demon prince gloated. "You cannot harm what cannot be!"
"I will be your bane, swine!" Death shouted. "I will be your bane!"
"You can do nothing!" Apkieran's laughter was full of scorn. "Nothing!" But Death stood back and smiled. It was a terrible smile, and if a mortal had seen it, his heart would have burst, and even the undead lord took a step back. There was a promise in that smile the demon prince could not fathom.
"I will be your bane, Carrion." Death's voice was calm and sure. "I know how I may reach you. And reach you I shall!" And with that he was gone.
The three Dark lords were quick to leave, too, for the other warlords were making their way to the battlesite, and the Hunter was breaking through the shields they had cast to hold him out. And all three could feel the anger of the goddess and none dared to meet her.
They took Margawt with them, binding his half-dead body with the black chain. The Morigu regained consciousness for a moment and tried to escape into the earth, but he could not, for the metal of the chain held him. That could not be; nothing could hold him, he knew that. "What chain was ever cast that could hold the Morigu?" he cried. But there was none to answer him and helplessly he was carried away by his deadliest enemies.
C H A P T E R
Twenty-one
The Hunter kneeled in the wreckage of the battle, his arms holding the broken neck of his son. Beside him stood Lord Death and his hand touched the unicorn's brow.
"Must you take him?" the god asked, his voice hollow with his sadness.
"Would you have me destroy the world so that your son can last a few more breaths?" Death asked harshly.
"What is that to me?" The Hunter stared into his brother's eyes. "He is my son!"
"And how many other fathers have lost their sons in this war? How many times have I heard the same plea since spring?"
"My only son," the god murmured.
"But not mine," a new voice added and the two powers turned, startled to see the small form of the goddess before them. "Not my only son." She, too, knelt down beside the bleeding body of the unicorn. "I have lost so many children in this war."
"Lady," Death asked quietly, "do you blame me?"
"You? Nay, never you, sad one," her eyes were oddly gentle for her. "No, your brother."
"You blame me?" the Hunter cried.
"No, my once husband, never you." She sighed and sat back on her heels. "I meant the Beast."
"My brother?" the god hissed.
"Our brother," Death added.
"Yes, he was never one of mine," the goddess said. "Never really part of me. He was unwanted. He did not belong and he wishes to make us all pay for his mad loneliness."
"He is so much greater than ever he was," the Hunter said. "Where did he get such power?"
"From the dead," Death's voice was unbearably sad and he was thinking of another brother who was now a man. "From all the dead he is responsible for; all the torture and madness and pain. He is a larva that thrives on suffering. He is truly the enemy. The only one that matters."
"And what shall we do about him?" the goddess asked. Neither answered her and at last the Hunter stood up, his black sword once more in his hand.
"I am through with mourning." His voice was quiet. "I will finish what I started. I will hunt."
"Hunt?" The goddess looked at him.
"Your Morigu is only part of what I am. I am the Hunter. I will find my brother."
"And then?"
"Then I shall destroy him." And with that he was gone. Death looked at the goddess.
"Gods can die," he said. "Can the Beast?"
"If Death cannot answer that, how could I?" Death just nodded and gently he reached to Anlon, but the goddess stopped him, daring to grasp his hand.
"Lady, what do you do?" he asked incredulously.
"Possession, lord," she said. "There are many types, and my son is not ready for your halls." And Death realized that what he had thought was only his knowledge, was hers, too.
Caer Lugh echoed with the wailing of the mourners. Maeve was buried in the ancient crypt beneath the city, the unicorn beside her. The next day Fergus Firemane disappeared. His people had asked him to take the throne and rule in Maeve's place, but he would not. Yet before he left, he swore he would return and that the throne of Aes Lugh would not long be empty.
It was obvious to the warlords that Margawt had been captured and it was oddly enough the destroyer who voiced what all felt.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he said to the assembled council, "the war, I mean. It is bigger than armies now, more important than borders." The others silently agreed. "But Margawt, mad Margawt.. .. Regardless of what else we do, we must find him and free him, if we can. If not, we must die trying."
"We cannot throw away all we have won," Donal said, ignoring the surprised looks the others gave him, "we still have a war to win. We cannot leave the people defenseless while we search for Margawt."
"Then what will you have us do?"
"What we have been doing and what we must." Donal's voice was hoarse as if he had not spoken in long weeks.
"Because of the dragon the empire is safe, and Aes Lugh is ours thanks to Maeve and the Morigu. We will follow through with our spring campaign, but"--he held up one hand--"but, we will do what we must. What we knew we had to all along. We will hunt down the Beast and those who seek to free him, for surely where they are, so will be the Morigunamachamain."
And so, unknowingly, the warlords came to the same conclusion as the Hunter and it was decided that come spring, warlords for the various armies would be chosen. Then they would choose those who must go on the quest to seek the heart of the Darkness that strangled the world, though surely it would mean their doom.
And in a tower high above Caer Lugh, Cucullin, High Prince of the Elves of Cather-na-nog, spoke to the grey shadow that was Death.
"He was here," the prince's voice shook, "Apkieran was here."
"Yes, Prince," Death answered, "he was here, and I could not touch him, for he is the Lord of the Undead."
"Is he then unkillable?"
"Maybe, but not invincible."
"Then there is a way. A way to avenge my father and to destroy the demon."
"Yes, Prince, I think there is a way. But are you willing to pay the price?"
"Do not toy with me, Lord." Cucullin held his head high. "Do you really think I do not know what my doom is?" For a moment Death was silent and his hands clenched.
"Prince, I see you for what you are," he answered, "and I tell you that another way can be found. You can do more for this world and the sad mortals doomed to live."
"Tell me, lord, for it is said you never lie, can you say with surety that another way can be found?" And again Death was silent. At last, he sighed.
"You know, Prince, I cannot."
"Then you do what you must, and I will do what I must." "The cost--"
"It does not matter, for I will be Apkieran's bane!" And Death did not answer, for anything he could say to the noble elf would only add to the prince's burden. "It is beyond bearing," Death thought, "for this war is destroying all that is good in the world!" He left the elf there on that high tower and he longed to escape. For Death was gentle and he was harsh, he was just and he was capricious, but never before had he been desperate.
Epilogue
In a room that was not a room, a place that was not a place, in darkness that was more than darkness, a shadow that was less and more than what surrounded it began to take form. The chain, the chain of his bondage was gone, and now little stood in his way.
Eyes began to take shape, but they were unlike any eyes any other being b
ore. They were filled with crawling, struggling shapes, maggots and worms, white grubs and blacker things, grown strong on corpses and the blood of the damned. Those eyes were bright with their evil and power and where they looked the darkness grew thicker, and the borders that made this place thinner.
"Dragon," the Beast hissed and the not-place shivered like a living thing. "Dragon, you have betrayed me." And there was a promise of punishment in that voice, punishment beyond the dreams of madmen. The shadow's chest surged as if it took a deep breath, though there was no air here. And those eyes turned to view the world that still lay far from that place, but not so far as before.
"I will eat it." The voice was like a shriek in some torturer's dungeon. "I will gnaw it and spit it out." And again the shadow pantomimed a breath and its form filled out more and grew twice in stature.
"Mine!" it screamed. "Mine!" And in all the worlds that cruel voice was heard by some, and in the land by many. But in all the worlds only one dared to answer, one who had been forgotten, one who all thought beaten.
Alone in his darkened hall he sat on his ancient throne. And Lonnlarcan, the Ard Riegh of the Elves of Cather-na-nog, turned his silver eyes to the stars of the eldernight that were the ceiling of his hall and he said only one word. One quiet word, but the Beast heard him and howled at the king's defiance, slashing the darkness with claws and fangs in his fury. Just one word very quietly spoken.
"Never."
Morigu: Book 02 - The Dead Page 23