Moira's Song

by Lee, Tawnya

  “You chose the wrong thing to say. The Tribunal ceased to exist the moment they decided to kill my children. Because of the words you spoke, I’m going to rip out your throat and burn you alive, motherfucker.”

  The guard sputtered, and strained, reaching for Moira’s hand, trying desperately to pull her hand from his neck. Her grip was solid. She squeezed hard and fast, and then punched through his neck and yanked his vocal cords free. She breathed on him, and as she did, her breath turned into flames that seared and charred his skin. She dropped him to the ground, and he curled into a ball, unable to scream the agony he felt.

  Moira turned to the other guards. For one split second, she felt her equilibrium tilt. Everything appeared to drop away far into the distance. Moira breathed deeply, clutching her cloak clasp, and summoned strength.

  “Do you wish to share his death?” she said.

  All three bowed and pleaded. “No, great queen. We will serve you.”

  Moira knelt before each man, and examined them for weakness and dishonesty. Satisfied, she stood.

  “You are free to serve me. But I demand loyalty. Beware. The moment you turn on me or my children is the moment you die.”

  The guards trembled and nodded. “Thank you, oh Queen. Thank you, oh great one.”

  Jack, the rebel leader, walked the outside perimeter of the fray. Each had paused in their fighting, entranced by Moira as she pardoned the guards. Jack spotted Aedus and signaled to him. “Kill her.” His telepathic message broadcast across the ancient meadow. We must control the blood fae. Kill her. She is becoming weak. This is our chance.

  Aedus nodded. He slid from around the Mound and hid behind a pile of dead guards and fuilteacha. Aedus began to chant his fire call. Walls of flame lept up toward Moira. Moira felt the flames rolling toward her. She pushed the flames back with her own, and fought the ancient fire caller, flame against flame. Moira knew healing Paul had weakened her. She called on her essence. She breathed deep and focused on the center-most part of her being. Pulling from that place of strength, she continued to push back against Aedus’ flames. While Moira was distracted, Jack ran through the crowd, grabbed gloves from a dead guard, and pulled the iron sword free from its scabbard. He charged toward Moira’s back, running and thrusting the sword in front of him.

  Moira turned her head to see Jack running toward her. She pushed back Aedus and called on the crows to attack the fire caller. As the flock of crows descended on Aedus, the cacophony of crows magnified. Moira turned to kill Jack. Before she could react, one of the guards leapt to his feet, pulled his sword, and chopped off Jack’s head. The head rolled on the ground and landed at Moira’s feet. Moira looked from the head to the guard.

  “What is your name?”

  “Faolon, your grace,” the guard kneeled before her.

  “Stand up, Faolon.”

  Faolon stood and looked into Moira’s eyes.

  “Be my personal guard. Protect me, and I’ll always protect you.”

  “Yes, Moira,” he said.

  As the rebel fae realized their leader’s head lay at Moira’s feet, they began to fly from the Hill of Tara. Each blood-drinker sensed the end of the battle and the imminent rise of the sun. They began to fly back to their homes, and the safety of their dark havens.

  Moira watched as the hill emptied of blood-drinkers. Dubhan, Sedric, and the three guards remained.

  Moira motioned to the guards. “Come with me,” she said.

  “Wait!” Dubhan said.

  Moira stopped and looked at Dubhan.

  “What is it?”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’m going to get my children.”

  “What about Paul?” Sedric asked. He looked at the remains of Medb and Richard. He closed his eyes to avoid staring at the dissected body of the immortal woman he once loved.

  “I’ll take care of him.”

  Sedric nodded. Moira walked to the Lia Fáil, the standing stone on the Hill of Tara. She placed her hand on the stone, and sang her song to the great Queen.

  Should they tempt you, tell great lies

  I will pluck out both their eyes

  If they thwart you, make you scream

  I’ll fill their lives with agony

  I will tear them limb from limb

  Spill their blood so slowly

  I will rip out their organs

  Pull their skin off slowly

  I will watch their panicked eyes

  I’ll laugh at their pitiful cry

  I’ll save their heart for very last

  I’ll kill them oh so slowly

  I’ll send a million birds from high

  To pluck and pull and terrify

  They’ll regret the day they tried

  To hurt my children, make them cry

  I’ll break off each finger and toe

  Rip them off slowly

  So don’t you dare, don’t you try

  To harm this people of mine

  Halfway through the song, the top of the Lia Fáil began to glow. Light shot through the top of the stone, through her hand, and into the air past the clouds. A fierce banshee scream erupted from the stone. As the sound grew louder and louder, the light engulfed Moira. She doubled over, hand still on the stone, and began wail. Minutes passed, and just as suddenly, the light and scream vanished. Moira released the stone, stumbled backward a few feet, and shifted into a raven. She took off in flight, Faolon and the other two guards following her, to North Kessock. To her children.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Morrigan's Cauldron

  To the mortal eye, it appeared as if a flock of four birds flew across the sky over Irish Sea. Using their training as Druids and bards, they projected a mental shield around themselves to confuse the nosier mortal or blood fae who may be against them. Halfway across the sea, Moira started to plummet.

  “Catch her!” Faolon commanded.

  The guard closest to Moira, flew down and around toward the falling bird. A great gust of wind caught him and blew him about. Dark clouds rolled across the water, obstructing his view. “I’ve lost sight of her,” the guard cried out.

  “Quickly, we’re losing our shield,” Faolon shouted through the wind. In the confusion and panic, the mental shield began to weaken. Faolon looked at the second guard and said, “Hold the shield stable. I’ll go get her.”

  Faolon flew through the clouds, down toward the water, and caught Moira 50 feet from the top of the water. “I have her,” he said.

  The guards regained their ascent, Moira tucked in Faolon’s arms. Past the Irish Sea, past Loch Ness, and over North Kessock they flew, landing at Breasal’s back door. Breasal, sensing the guards’ approach, opened the door to see Faolon cradling what appeared to be a sleeping raven. He squinted his eyes, and peered closer at the bird.

  “What is that?”

  “This is Moira,” Faolon replied.

  Breasal’s mouth dropped open, and he opened the door wider, ushering in his guests, and closing the door behind them.

  “What happened to her?”

  Faolon told Breasal all that happened on the hill of Tara.

  “What I didn’t see myself, I It would seem her efforts to save Paul from the poison weakened her own essence. She is still very new, and as strong and powerful as she is, there are limits. Sucking iron from another vampire’s blood while singlehandedly killing more than a dozen Brehon guards, eviscerating a member of the Tribunal, and staving off the power of an ancient fire-worker appears to be hers. She is after all, barely over a week old.”

  “Yes. I suppose even she has limits,” Breasal said. “I think the sucking iron from blood would kill most any of us here. She is lucky.”

  “It’s likely the fact she is both witch and fuilteach. Her blood is not the same. It is slightly different. She shape-shifted and flew part of the journey. But midway over the Irish Sea, she began to bob and drop in the sky. I caught her and carried her the rest of the way here.” Faolon said.

  “I
’m grateful. I’m glad you brought her. Please, get her to her bedroom.”

  Breasal led the way to Moira’s room, opened the door, and pointed to the four-poster bed in the center of the room.

  “Put her there,” Breasal said.

  Faolon laid the raven on the bed and backed away. The raven shifted slowly back to the body of Moira. She rested in corpse pose, her hands folded, resting on her chest. Other than the slight rise and fall of her chest, she showed no signs of life.

  “Haven’t I watched Moira since she was a child? I suspected early on that she was the witch that had been prophesied. I’ve known her family. Been partner to many Banba witches over the years. I was one of Kennocha’s first blood fae. Don’t I love her deeply for this? When she was young, I had this bed fashioned and built for her. I had it blessed by a witch and saved it until the day she would come to me as a fellow fuilteach. It is imbued with enchantments to protect her and strengthen her. Hope it works. It’s never been tested before today."

  “May I see Paul?” Faolon asked.

  “Of course. He is resting in a guest bedroom. Follow me.”

  Faolon turned to the two guards. “Please stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

  He followed Breasal out the room and down the hallway. Breasal opened a door at the end of the hall, and went inside.

  Paul lay on the bed, feverish, flushed. A blueish tint colored his cheeks. He took slow, labored breaths, on occasion coughing and gasping. Faolon walked to the bed, and placed his hand on Paul’s forehead.

  “He burns to the touch.”

  “Yes, this started maybe twenty minutes after Liam brought him here. Liam told me what happened. How Medb tried to kill him. How Moira saved him. My guess is that even though the iron was pulled from his blood, he is suffering from the damage it caused those brief moments after Medb injected him.”

  “Medb did this? With injected iron?”

  “Yes. Paul told us she pushed for the execution of Moira’s children. I wonder if she was working with the rebellion all along. Maybe we’ll never know.”

  Faolon sat in the chair beside Paul’s bed. He stroked Paul’s face and held his hand. Tears of blood rolled down Faolon’s cheeks. He lifted Paul’s hand to his mouth and kissed it. Using smell, he searched for any remaining poison in his blood.

  “There’s no more poison in his body. I failed him,” Faolon said. “I failed him. I swore to protect him, yet I never suspected Medb. I never saw the destruction and murder in her eyes.”

  “Many of us didn’t see it. I didn’t trust Medb but never dreamed she would actually seek to kill a member of the Tribunal.”

  “We’ll put them both under guard. I swore allegiance to Moira, and I have sworn protection to Paul. The other guards and I promised fidelity to Moira at the Hill of Tara. We’ll guard them here for as long as need be until they are strong enough. I’ll hunt for the both of them.”

  “I think that would be best. I believe they’re safe here, but one never knows. I need to call on Dubhan and Sedric. I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if their conditions change or if there is anything you need as you watch.”

  “I will.” Faolon bowed to the ancient blood-drinker, showing respect and gratitude.

  Faolon teleported to Moira’s room and motioned to the guards.

  “Paul is at the end of the hallway. He’s not well, but Moira saved his life. We’ll rotate shifts, standing watch over the two. I’ll hunt for them and allow you your time to hunt as well. If you see any change in their condition or you sense danger, please alert me.”

  “Yes, Faolon. You have my word.”

  “And mine.”

  Faolon thanked the two guards and requested they sit with Paul. They left the room, and Faolon sat on the chaise lounge near the door to Moira’s room. He watched her breathe, comforted by the rise and fall of her chest.

  Downstairs in the hallway, Breasal gathered his friends, Dubhan, Liam, and Sedric. They each accounted their version of the events that took place on the Hill of Tara. Seara stood near the island counter, listening.

  “So we know Jack died. Faolon killed him. But William? Does anyone know what happened to him or Aedus?” asked Breasal.

  The group murmured. No one had any idea of if the second in command of the rebellion lived or died.

  “It’s likely he escaped. I’d be willing to bet he’s doing what we’re doing. Recounting the battle and planning ahead,” said Sedric.

  “Yes, yes. I agree. This is likely. We should plan for it anyhow. And if not him, then it will be someone. The Tribunal has collapsed. There is no clear leader beyond Moira, and she is unconscious for who knows how long. It won’t take long for them to figure that out,” Dubhan said.

  “Liam, did you discern anything as you spoke to Moira?” Breasal asked.

  “I called her Queen. I don’t know why, but I spoke it before I could think it. And once I did, I had a premonition Moira would become our ruler,” Liam said.

  “Well, she did completely destroy Medb, stand on her body, and essentially declare herself law,” Sedric said.

  “Yes, but this was before she collapsed into a coma,” Dubhan said.

  “She is the fulfillment of prophecy. I don’t understand what is happening now, but she is alive and we must do what we can to protect her, help her heal,” Breasal said.

  “What I’m afraid of are the inevitable attacks of Na Fuilteacha rebels on entire villages. Of their appearing in the open and putting us all in danger of human attack. Without the Tribunal, there is no clear law or protection. It’s now open to chaos,” Dubhan said.

  “That’s true. I’m afraid of what’s to come,” Breasal said.

  Seara spoke. “In the meantime, we may have to play vigilante. Take out those who would fight us while we wait for Moira to heal.”

  The group nodded assent and dispersed to their own homes to rest and recover from the battle.

  Seara stood with Breasal after the others had left.

  “Breasal, let’s hope Moira doesn’t take too long to heal.”

  That same evening in Nairn, William, Justan, and Erin sat in Jack’s greenhouse. They were surrounded by nearly twenty blood-drinkers dressed in dark robes. Many had piercings and tattoos from their mortal lives. Each of the blood-drinkers represented various tuatha and clans throughout Ireland, Scotland, and the United Kingdom.

  “William, we’ve lost Medb and Jack. What do we do?” asked one of the blood-drinkers. William slithered through the small gathering, eyes narrowed, head high. He circled the group, savoring every eye on him.

  “Aye, we lost the pair of ‘em. That’s true. But we struck at the very heart of the Tribunal. They’ve been completely demolished. The Brehon’s guards are scattered as well. We’ve achieved more than we hoped. We created confusion and chaos. Now is the time to strike and strike hard! We’ve had random attacks but nothing grand scale. Nothing that has achieved our aims. We need to strike at the core of humanity. Put them under our heel, subduing them once and for all. Who will go with me? Who will follow me and claim our rightful place over all mankind? If you don’t have the balls for this, then leave. Leave now. Otherwise, let’s plan our attack!”

  No one moved. Each blood-drinker stood, defiant, staring into the eyes of their new leader. William looked at everyone one at a time, determined to root out any weak or irresolute members. Satisfied, he nodded his head.

  “Good. I’m glad you stand with me,” William said.

  “So, what is the plan?” Erin said.

  “We kill every blood-drinker who won’t fight with us. But slowly. All at once and we risk being scattered. We need to start with Breasal and his inner circle. One at a time. And we attack cities, terrorize the mortals. Create the fear we need to have them attack each other.”

  “Which fuilteach do we attack?” asked Erin.

  “Breasal, for one. We also need to eliminate Dubhan, Liam, and Sedric. And of course Moira.”

  “How can we kill her? Didn’t you see her at
the Hill of Tara?”

  “My guess is she’s still laid up at Breasal’s. She’s either hiding or injured. I don’t know which. But Breasal’s is the most obvious place. Of course, they would have her highly guarded, not just with physical guards but also with telepathic shields. It’s likely they use the same technique used for the Tribunal.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I had watchers all over Ireland, the sea, and Scotland. The report is that somewhere over the Irish Sea, three Tribunal guards were suddenly spotted catching a raven from the sky and flying toward Scotland. At some point, their shields must have failed. After this, they disappeared. Most likely the work of Faolon and other guards to shield her whereabouts. Their shielding worked some, but not enough. We know she took the form of a raven. She is a cailleach, after all. They can shape-shift. And if they had to carry her, it means she’s been wounded.”

  “Do you have a plan for her?” Justan asked.

  “Not yet, but I will. If she’s still weakened, we should strike soon. I’ll have to put more pressure on my watchers to find out more,” William answered. “I’ll contact them tomorrow and let everyone know.”

  “What will the rest of us do?”

  “Keep attacking. Start small. Make it bigger. Incite fear.”

  “Can I speak to you in private?” Justan asked.

  “Sure. We’re done here. The rest of you can go.”

  Justan waited for everyone to clear the room. William pulled out a flask of blood, poured a glass, and offered it to Justan. Justan took it and nodded.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Jack had a source inside Breasal’s house. A nanny.” Justan took a sip from his glass.

  “Go on. You’ve got my attention.”

  “Anyhow, this nanny, she don’t know that she’s actually talking. Jack seduced her. Mind tricks. Pretends he’s dating her. Now that Jack’s dead, I’m thinking we should find a way to keep that link alive.”

  “Agreed. That’s pretty damn good, Justan. I’m glad you told me. We need to find a way to meet her, get her on the hook again.”