Morrigan

by Laura DeLuca

  “Before you go, there is something I want you to have.” Alden disappeared into a corner room and returned a few minutes later with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. He handed it to Morrigan. “It is not much,” he told her. “But I thought it might help you to blend in once you reach the villages. Of course I cannot see what you are wearing, but I know in your world, the style of dress is much different than here in Tír na NÓg.”

  “What is it?” Morrigan asked.

  “It is only a plain gown. It once belonged to my wife. She left this world long ago, along with a son who never had the chance to take his first breath.” Behind the blank eyes, Morrigan could see a glimmer of tears. “I am sure she would want you to have it. She was always very fond of your father.”

  Morrigan accepted the gift and carefully unraveled the twine. Inside she found a simple peasant gown in a pale shade of blue with wide bell sleeves, complete with a white cord to tie at the waist. The fabric was not quite cotton and not quite silk, but some strange combination she couldn’t place. In addition to the dress, there was a heavy black cloak with a hood and a high collar. It was far from simple and was obviously dear to him.

  Morrigan shook her head. “I can’t accept this. It’s lovely, but it’s too much.

  “Nonsense,” Alden scoffed. “What is an old widower going to do with a dress? It is just gathering dust in a closet here. You will make much better use of it.”

  Morrigan couldn’t help but reach out to hug Alden in gratitude before they parted. She was surprised by the sincere emotions that touched her. She felt as though she was leaving behind a lifelong friend, though she had known him only a few hours.

  “Thank you, Alden. You can’t imagine how much this means to me.”

  He returned the embrace and patted her on the back reassuringly when a few tears snuck down her cheeks. “Do not be sad, my dear,” Alden told her. “I am sure we will meet again. If not in this life, then in the next. In the meantime, here is one more token to remember me by.”

  “More gifts?” she replied. “Really, Alden, you have done so much already, I can’t take anymore.”

  “I insist,” he said and slid the little carved raven she had admired into her hand. “It is the symbol of the Goddess Morrigan, who is your namesake, and I feel as though She has moved me to make it yours. May it bring you luck and keep you safe on your journey.”

  “I will come back to visit,” she promised and hugged Alden one last time. “As soon as this whole mess with my mother is straightened out, I swear I’ll come back and thank you properly.”

  “Well, Princess,” Tiarn said once they were finally on their way. “You certainly have a way of charming the locals. First Condon and now Alden. They see something special in you.”

  Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “I’m nothing special.” A part of her wished he would argue, but he didn’t.

  They travelled silently after that, with Morrigan struggling to keep up with the more athletic Tiarn. He kept up a brisk pace effortlessly, while Morrigan panted and fought against the stitch in her side and the throbbing of her feet. But at least she got to admire the view. His solid legs and thighs were a sight she would never grow tired of looking at. She wondered if he realized she was staring at him again and shuddered at the thought. She felt like she had done everything but throw herself into his arms, and he still didn’t display the slightest interest in her. Could her visions and dreams of love been wrong?

  At least he was in a better mood than he had been that morning. Morrigan thought the argument with her grandmother and the time consuming visit with Alden would have surely put him in a sour mood. But he whistled as he plodded through underbrush and pushed aside tree branches. He even stopped to wait for her a few times without complaining or insulting her in his normal condescending fashion. The hours trickled by almost pleasantly. The sun set on the horizon and the three moons dominated the clear night sky once more. Eventually, they both began to feel the wear and tear of their travels, and Tiarn suggested they stop and rest for the night.

  “I should try to find us some food,” he said. He had produced a flint rock from his bag which he banged against the side of his iron sword. With just a few quick clicks, the tinder he had gathered sparked, and a warm fire was crackling in seconds. Danu and Dagda curled up beside it, and after giving each other a short bath, they immediately fell into a sound sleep. “The little food I had, we finished off this morning, and I have not had a chance to hunt since our return,” Tiarn admitted.

  “If you want to take the night off, I brought some food with me,” Morrigan offered, mostly because the thought of him leaving her alone in the woods at night terrified her. “It’s not much, but after that big meal at Alden’s, I’m not really hungry anyway. Maybe some chips and sodas as a late night snack would be enough to get us through the evening.”

  “Chips and sooooodaaaaaaa?” he repeated the last word in such a long winded way, it sounded almost ridiculous. “I have never heard of these. From what animal does this meat come from?”

  Morrigan giggled. “No animals, silly. Chips are made from potatoes, and soda is made from, well . . . I guess it’s just water and syrup. It’s kind of like liquid sugar.”

  Tiarn was not impressed. “Humph. Lycan do not eat potatoes and sugar. Nor have we ever been referred to as ‘silly’. Yet, still.” He stroked the stubble on his chin. “I think it would be best if I stay close by tonight. If Alden is correct and the soldiers are nearby, I should not wander too far from our campsite.”

  Morrigan would have been happy if he never wandered from her sight at all, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she pulled out a few bags of chips and two cans of cola and thought how wonderful it would be to have that extra weight removed from her bag. Since the addition of the new clothing from Alden, it was heavier than ever. She planned to change in the morning and just leave her old clothes behind. They were shredded to pieces and hardly travel worthy any longer. There would be even less to carry in the morning. Maybe that would make the rest of the journey a little easier.

  Morrigan slipped a finger under the metal cap of the soda can and had to resist the urge to laugh out loud when Tiarn jumped a foot into the air at the sound of the cap popping open. He dropped the bag of chips he was struggling to open and reached for the hilt of his sword. Once he recovered his composure, if not his dignity, she handed him the cola. Tiarn accepted the can warily and sniffed the bubbles that leaked through the opening. After a moment’s contemplation, he took a small sip of the sweet liquid. He swished it around in his mouth for just a moment before he spit in onto the ground in obvious horror.

  “What magic is this, witch?” he demanded. “Are you trying to poison me? I could feel this liquid moving on my tongue!”

  This time Morrigan couldn’t control it, though she tried her best. The stifled laughter came out more like a snort. “No magic,” she promised him. “Just carbonation.”

  He still seemed wary, but after watching her take a long sip from her own can, he started to relax. Before long he had guzzled the whole thing and polished off two bags of chips. As they ate, Morrigan stared up into the sky, again entranced by the beauty of the night. The stars seemed to move and dance in the heavens, brighter and closer than any she had seen before. She couldn’t be sure if they were really brighter, or if it was just the lack of streetlights and pollution that made them seem that way.

  “Too much salt and sugar,” Tiarn said and belched. “I can see why you have trouble keeping up with me if this is the way you eat in your world. This food is not fit for swine.” That didn’t stop him from finishing off the rest of the soda she had set aside.

  “That wasn’t my world,” Morrigan told him. “I was never at home there. Here, under the light of the moons, I know I’m really home for the first time in my life. I think I could actually be happy here.”

  “It is not all so beautiful,” Tiarn whispered, but he lay down beside her in the grass for a just a moment to admire the
peace of the night. “There are wars, deceit, and death. There is so much darkness.” He shook his head sadly, lost in some memory Morrigan was not a part of.

  “No place is going to be completely perfect,” she admitted with a sigh. “At least here, I have a chance to make a difference. Maybe if we . . . no, maybe after we free my mother, there can be peace, and then things will get better.”

  “Such large dreams for such a little girl, Morrigan.” He touched her cheek, and she turned to meet the heavy stare of his green eyes. “I hope you will not be disappointed by the cold realities of life.”

  Morrigan felt herself slide just a little closer to him. Their hands brushed, sending shivers down her spine. He leaned in closer, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin. His lips parted, and she thought for one blissful moment she would know what is was like to feel his kiss. But before the magical moment could happen, Tiarn jumped up, knocking over the soda can and spilling the last of its contents in his haste to get away from her. He brushed the dirt from his knees and cleared his throat.

  “I should gather more firewood,” he said and refused to meet her gaze. “The night air is cool tonight. I would not want you to catch a chill. Hecate would skin my hide.”

  Morrigan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She wished she had the nerve to tell him he was all she needed to stay warm. Instead, she only nodded and watched in heartbreaking silence as he disappeared into the trees. Morrigan shook her head, but that did nothing to help clear her thoughts or slow her accelerated heartbeat. Tiarn, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by what had almost been Morrigan’s very first kiss. She wondered if the spark she sensed between them was no more than her imagination. Did he yearn with a need that was almost painful, or was she alone in her delusions?

  Sitting by the crackling fire, she decided she had to find out. Her tarot cards had never steered her wrong. Perhaps if she did a quick reading while Tiarn was off collecting wood, she could get the answers she longed for. One way or the other, it was better to know the truth than to wonder.

  Morrigan grabbed her backpack and dug into the bottom of the bag until she felt the familiar velvet wrap. Just the feel of the cards in her hands gave her an immediate rush of power coupled with a sense of security. She removed them from the package, delicately, lovingly, careful of the aging paper. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths to help clear her mind before she began to shuffle. Nearby, the even breathing of the sleeping cats seemed to echo her own.

  As she mixed the cards, she envisioned Tiarn in all his masculine beauty. She saw each feature of his face from his stubbly, unshaven chin to his sarcastic smile in exquisite detail. She felt her heartbeat quicken at the thought of him and almost lost her concentration. Her will was strong, and she felt the power rising to a crescendo within her. When her instincts told her the cards had fallen into their proper positions, she stopped shuffling and laid the deck on the ground by her feet. She had only just lifted the first card from the deck and was about to look at it when suddenly, the entire stack was hurled into the nearby campfire with one swift kick of a leather-clad boot. Flames sputtered and sparked as they ingested the worn paper, and even with her control of the element, she knew there was no way to save them.

  Morrigan jolted to her feet, ready to fight and defend herself from whatever enemy was attacking. In her haste, she dropped the one remaining tarot card to the ground. It took her a moment to realize it was Tiarn who stood there, though he was glaring at her in a way that made him seem like an enemy.

  “Fool!” he shouted. He kicked at the dirt where the cards had lain, as though he wished he could cast them into the flames all over again. “Damn you, witch! Do you have any idea what you have done?”

  “Nothing but shuffle, thanks to you,” Morrigan huffed. She was furious, not only because of his insults, but also because of the loss of her beloved tarot cards. “What did you do that for?”

  “You are a fool!” Tiarn repeated. “Even I could sense your magic as you attempted a divination. The magic hounds will be on our tail in seconds! They can sniff out magic a hundred miles away.” He quickly started to gather their supplies, throwing them haphazardly into his bag, all the while glaring in her direction.

  “They’re just cards. I didn’t think—”

  “That is your problem, Morrigan!” Tiarn interrupted. “You never think! You let your powers do the thinking for you! What could you possibly need to know so urgently that you would risk our lives to see it?”

  Morrigan felt herself blush, and she wasn’t about to admit why she had started the reading. “None of your business!” she spat at him. “I had no idea I was doing anything wrong. You should have warned me about the . . . what did you call them? Magic hounds? I don’t even know what they are.”

  “I suppose you are right.” Tiarn shook his head and sighed. He looked almost apologetic. “I am partially to blame. I forgot your ignorance. Magic hounds are beasts attracted to magic. Arianrhod sent them out to find you, but they would only be able to pick up your scent if you used your magic.”

  “I don’t think they sound so scary.” Morrigan tried to sound brave, but even as she said it, in the distance she heard howling, and only a second later a wail that seemed much closer.

  “You are about to find out just how scary they can be,” Tiarn warned her. “Along with the army that will undoubtedly follow.” He threw down the bag he had just loaded up and pulled his sword from its sheath. “There is no time to run now. We will have to stand and fight.”

  Danu and Dagda had awoken as soon as they heard the howls and had already morphed into their Guardian forms. They stood on either side of her, growling and staring into the forest as they waited for the hounds to arrive. Morrigan didn’t have time to think of a defense. They were instantly surrounded by a dozen armed guards and their vicious, snarling dogs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All around the perimeter of the camp, there were soldiers, each bearing the owl crest of Queen Arianrhod. Several of them were practically being dragged along by the vicious dogs that barked and foamed at the mouth in agitation. Tiarn didn’t attempt to make jokes with their aggressors, like he had back at Dunham’s cottage. He knew this time there wasn’t much hope that the fight would end without fatalities.

  As soon as the soldiers materialized, Tiarn burst into action. He shoved Morrigan against the nearest tree and shielded her with his own body while Danu and Dagda guarded her sides. She was safe for the moment, but it didn’t seem to matter. They were hopelessly outnumbered by twelve guards and four snarling mongrel dogs that stood with their teeth barred and snapping in her direction. They were desperate to be free of the chains that kept them trapped by their masters’ sides and didn’t care if they choked their breath away trying to escape. Each was covered in dirty and matted fur, and they smelled of excrement even from a distance.

  Almost as though they planned the synchronization, all four dogs were released from their bonds at just the same moment, and all four headed directly toward Morrigan. Tiarn was already being driven away from her by a half dozen soldiers, so it was the cats that sprang to her defense as the large dogs bounded in her direction, ready to tear her to pieces because of the scent of magic that still clung to her.

  The hounds might have been good at sniffing out magic, but they weren’t nearly as advanced at fighting it. They didn’t stand a chance against Danu and Dagda, in the form of the giant black panther and a powerful striped tiger. In seconds, the cats had each caught a dog by the throat and another trapped under their gigantic, powerful paws. They glanced at Morrigan, as if waiting for her permission to proceed. She knew it was dangerous to let them live, but she couldn’t stand the thought of the helpless animals being hurt when they were only doing what they had been trained to do.

  “Let them go,” Morrigan ordered.

  Even though they looked a little peeved, her Guardians immediately followed her command. For a moment, she was sure she had made
the wrong decision because the dogs turned to her once again with murder in their eyes. But it took only one last hiss from the large cats and the whole pack let out a barrage of yips and whines before turning and fleeing back into the woods with their tails between their legs. Even the furious shouts of their masters couldn’t bring them back to the battle.

  “We don’t need them anymore,” one guard said to the other.

  “Right,” his gruff companion agreed. “They led us here. We can take care of the rest.”

  The cats immediately turned to assist Tiarn who was greatly outnumbered though still holding his own as he clashed swords with several of the armed guards. It was much easier for them to evade his advances as they held up their owl stamped shields. Tiarn had a single sword as his defense against a half dozen assailants. Morrigan flinched every time she heard the harsh clank of metal against metal, terrified one of those blows would hit its intended target and send Tiarn’s head rolling to her feet. Suddenly the world of Tír na NÓg seemed a lot less beautiful. Morrigan clung to the relative safety of her tree, digging her nails into the bark so hard she broke more than one fingernail. She tried to call up her powers, but they were buried somewhere under her fear.

  Dagda had taken down one of the soldiers who were attempting to sneak up on Tiarn from behind. Meanwhile Danu was pulling another screaming man away from the battle scene by his leg. Between the three of them, they had already dispatched more than half of the guards and had done so with minimal bloodshed. A few of the soldiers were bleeding from minor wounds and unable to fight, but thankfully none were dead or damaged beyond repair.

  Her little army had four of the remaining guards locked in battle, but that still left two who were smart enough to head for the real target while her companions were otherwise engaged. The metal of their armor jangled as they inched their way closer and closer to a helpless Morrigan. She probably should have run, but the fear and panic that had plagued her during both attacks left her paralyzed and helpless.