by Laura DeLuca
“She is a tasty little dish.” The younger of the two guards looked her up and down appraisingly as he inched closer. He opened his mouth in a smile that revealed teeth already beginning to blacken, even though he couldn’t have been more than twenty. “What do you say, Caedmon, should we have a little fun before we bring her in?”
Morrigan felt her body tremble as they approached, afraid of what they would do to her, knowing there were fates far worse than death. She felt the slight tremors of their footsteps shake the ground around her, and she knew that with every step they were getting closer. She even felt and smelled the rancid breath of the young soldier as he leaned in close and ran his slimy tongue along her cheek.
“What say you, little princess? Would you like to feel the groin of a real man instead of a mongrel changeling?”
The second soldier, who must have been higher in command, backhanded the boy so hard he almost fell to the ground. “The soldiers under my command do not take women against their will. Queen Arianrhod said we were not to cause the maiden any harm. So keep both your swords sheathed and help me restrain the girl.”
After one strong glare at his superior, the young soldier recovered his composure and reached his arm out to grab Morrigan. She felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks, but he didn’t seem to care. He yanked her arm roughly and tried to pull her toward him. He struggled to pull her free from the trunk of the tree, but she only clung to it more desperately.
“Morrigan!”
The frantic sound of Tiarn’s voice finally woke her from the panic that had gripped her. She glanced up just in time to see Tiarn trying to break away from the three remaining soldiers he was fighting in order to come to her aid. The distraction had cost him, and the pointed blade of his opponent’s sword finally made contact, slashing through his animal skin tunic and into the flesh of his sword arm. Even from the distance, Morrigan was able to see the blood begin to bubble from the open wound. That was all Morrigan needed to finally overcome her paralysis. The powers she had been unable to call up for her own safety were suddenly forefront and overflowing, spurred forward by the strength of her rage. Instantly the two guards who were attempting to restrain her were swept up by the waves of that power and thrown a good forty feet in either direction, landing unconscious on the forest floor.
Morrigan was far from finished. There was no holding back the torrents of power that had escaped their captivity. Tiarn had been hurt because he had been distracted when he wanted to save her. Now the tables were turned, and she would have to save him. The lycan was about twenty paces away, still struggling to hold his own against the onslaught of three soldiers, despite his injured arm. He was getting tired and the other men were not blind to his weakness. They were taunting and playing with him more than actually fighting. Morrigan wondered why he didn’t take on the form on his wolf self. His magical counterpart would surely have the strength overcome the human soldiers.
“Look at the cornered animal fighting for his miserable life,” one of them jeered.
The man tried to poke Tiarn with his dagger while a second had practically driven him to the ground. Using his injured arm, he maintained a precarious grip on the hilt of his sword, but it trembled under the strength of his combatant. His face was beaded with sweat as he tried to push back the blade that was inches from his throat. He had seconds, at best, before he would have to surrender or die.
Morrigan was filled with fury and fear for his safety. Yet she wasn’t sure she could use her telekinesis without Tiarn being swept up with the rest of them. She couldn’t risk him becoming a casualty, so she had to think quickly. She turned her gaze upon the campfire. The flames had begun to dwindle, but the small embers were all she needed. With a single wave of her hand, the fire grew and extended, snaking its way free from the containment of the pit. The blaze changed from an orange glow to an electric blue as the fire sliced through the air, finally coming to rest on the soldier who had pinned Tiarn to the ground. The burst of flames engulfed him and all the trees and brush that surrounded him. The others were so shocked they forgot all about the werewolf and turned their attention to Morrigan. She could feel herself burning as hot as the flames as her anger all but consumed her. The force of the magic had elevated her slightly from the ground, and she knew her skin was glowing in a bright unearthly hue.
“Get the witch!” one of them cried.
The remaining soldiers charged Morrigan, while their comrade screamed and rolled in the dirt to extinguish the flames on his clothing. Danu and Dagda had long since dispatched of their targets; only two guards remained standing. When the cats saw them headed in Morrigan’s direction, they tried to pounce, but there wasn’t enough time. As soon as they were far enough away from Tiarn, Morrigan attacked them with her mind. She had only to glance in their direction, and with a smile of satisfaction, she sent them sprawling.
When they tried to stand, she refused to allow them to regain their footing. She controlled them like a marionette with her puppets and pressed their faces into the ground, smothering them into the earth. They swung their fists against an invisible foe as they struggled to breathe.
“Enough, Morrigan! Do you wish to kill them?”
Morrigan turned her wrath onto this new assailant who dared to question her and only barely managed to control herself before she sent an already injured Tiarn sprawling to the ground. She took a deep, calming breath and tried to pull back the magic that had overtaken all rational thought. She realized the soldiers could have easily killed them if that had been their goal. They must have had orders to bring them all in alive. They were lucky Morrigan was willing to offer the same kind of mercy.
She allowed the men to sit up, though she continued to glare at them. If they had any intentions of continuing the battle, the growling cats made them think better of it. They struggled to their feet and then scampered into the woods as fast as their limping legs could carry them. The others were either unconscious or had long since retreated. Morrigan watched them go, feeling flushed from the pure rush of adrenaline brought on by the release of her magic and the exhilaration that came with victory.
“You lived up to your name on the battlefield this night, Princess Morrigan.”
She had almost forgotten again that Tiarn was there until he took hold of her hand, which was still trembling from her spent fury. He gently opened her fingers and placed on her palm the one remaining tarot card she had dropped before the battle. It was the first she had drawn when she attempted her divination. Ironically, it was The Fool.
“Magic is only a small part of who you are, Morrigan,” Tiarn whispered, his eyes once again haunted by that sadness she couldn’t explain. “If you let the dark magic of fury consume you, it will forever tarnish your soul.”
Tiarn began gathering up their supplies, hoping to move on before reinforcements arrived. Morrigan was left to stare at the carnage that surrounded her. The once lovely terrain she had admired for its simple beauty was gone. Instead she saw only a blood splattered ground, charred remains of trees and bushes, and general destruction. Suddenly, her victory didn’t feel quite so glamorous, and the meaning of The Fool card became crystal clear.
Chapter Fourteen
The rest of the evening gave new meaning to roughing it. Tiarn found a large hollowed out tree that had fallen to the ground, and Morrigan squeezed inside the confining space. He covered it up with branches and leaves and left her there while he ran circles around the forest, leaving behind this scent and confusing tracks in order to lead the guards and their hounds in the wrong direction. The Guardians waited in the shadows to attack if anyone dared get too close to her hiding place.
Morrigan had no idea how long she was there, cold, alone, and terrified Tiarn might never return. The log was damp and smelled like mold, and she shared the cramped space with a variety of different insects that slithered and crawled across her body. She had already felt filthy after a few days without a shower. Now, she felt absolutely disgusting. She suffered in s
ilence, knowing it was her own fault she was stuck there. If she hadn’t tried to learn about Tiarn’s true feelings with a deck of cards instead of just trying to talk to him, she wouldn’t be in her current situation. She didn’t allow herself to scream when something furry scurried across her chest. She clamped her mouth shut when she heard the voices of nearby soldiers. She even managed to doze off a few times. When Tiarn finally returned, he helped her out of her temporary prison, and she stretched to remove the kinks from her tired body. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
“Come,” he told her. “The soldiers are searching in the east. I think we are safe for the time being.”
Even though her eyes had to readjust to the sunlight, Morrigan noticed right away that Tiarn’s face was pale and drawn. She saw his bloodied clothes and knew it was more than just the sleepless night that made him look so weary.
“Your arm,” she said, “it needs to be taken care of.”
“It is just a scratch,” he lied. She could see the blood oozing through the sleeve of his tunic.
“It should at least be bandaged before we move on,” she told him. He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with one stern glance. “I don’t want to hear any arguing. We are fixing that arm. And that’s a royal order.”
Tiarn gave her the smallest of smiles. “Well, Your Majesty, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Just for the record, I could have handled those soldiers back there without your assistance. I was just about to finish them off when you sent them all flying.”
Morrigan smiled wryly. “I’m sure you could have.”
They set up a small camp, and Tiarn got the fire going, but they didn’t unpack all the supplies. They knew they couldn’t stay in the area long. Eventually the soldiers were going to realize they had been tricked and circle back to look for them. Since there was no time for hunting, Morrigan reached into her bag and produced a few packages of instant soup. It was a small meal that was hardly satisfying, but it was better than nothing. Even Tiarn slurped it down without complaints after a few speculative sniffs. The cats had disappeared in the forest, so she assumed they were hunting in their Guardian forms to fill their bellies. At least half of their party wouldn’t go hungry that night.
When they were finished eating, Morrigan got to work on Tiarn’s arm. She was happy she had the presence of mind to pack the few measly medical supplies that were available in her foster parents’ medicine cabinet. She took out a package of gauze, rubbing alcohol, a bottle hydrogen peroxide, and the antibacterial ointment. Once she had her supplies lined up, she had him slip out of his tunic. She had to bite her lip to keep from gasping when she saw all the blood. She didn’t have much experience with medical emergencies, but she figured she was at least a step ahead of the locals with her modern day medicine. She started off by using the water canteen to wash away the worst of the blood. She dabbed it dry with the only extra shirt she had brought for herself before pouring half the bottle of rubbing alcohol onto the wound.
Tiarn flinched and pulled his arm away. “Are you attempting to heal me or burn my skin away with your magic potions?”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” she scolded, and he glared at her. “It’s just a little modern medicine. There’s no magic involved. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”
Again she patted dry the alcohol and moved on to the peroxide. It bubbled and sizzled when it made contact with his skin, but if it made him nervous again, he didn’t say so. Instead, he watched her with mild curiosity in his eyes. He picked up each bottle and sniffed its contents before turning up his nose in distaste.
“I don’t know why you are making such a fuss,” he told her. “I have certainly sustained far more serious injuries in my lifetime.”
She could see it was true. There were several scars on his arms and one large one on his well-formed abdomen, visible through the thick layer of black hair. There were even a few large scars on his back, which was the only part of his anatomy she had seen that was actually smooth and hairless. The marks looked like they might have been from a whip, but the only comparison she had to go on were scenes from old renaissance movies. She thought about asking him how it happened, but she was afraid something so unpleasant might be too difficult for him to talk about. As she worked, she asked some other, less personal questions.
“So,” she said as she dabbed the last of the blood from his arm, “tell me more about Tír na NÓg. Has it always been here? Was it ever a part of the world I knew?”
It seemed like a good distraction. Tiarn fiddled with a stick as he explained. “This place has had many names. Some call it Avalon, Atlantis, or even Oz. The stories you may have read about these magical lands have been twisted and exaggerated over time, but there is a basis of reality in them. All of the magical stories of your world leak from the edges of ours. King Arthur lived and died here—husband to the queen witch, Guinevere. Hercules, son of a god, could only exist in this place of magic. Dragons, though long extinct now, like the dinosaurs of your world, did once dominate our skies. The gateways exist so the people of our world can keep a little magic alive in yours.”
Morrigan listened intently as she smeared a generous portion of ointment onto the wound. Once it was cleaned up, the cut didn’t look nearly as bad. The bleeding had stopped, and she didn’t think it needed stitches. She did notice Tiarn’s flesh peppered with gooseflesh whenever she touched him. She liked to believe it was her touch and not the cold that was having that effect on him.
“It is believed that once, before time was recorded, the two worlds were one,” Tiarn continued. “But man did not tolerate magical creatures well. Though we are stronger than the average human, we were still greatly outnumbered. We were often hunted down and killed. Witches were burned at the stake, changelings were hung. The humans envied our abilities to fly, to wield the elements, and to change form. And what humans envy, they tend to destroy. To save us all, the priests and priestesses, shamans, druids, faeries, and all magical beings, created Tír na NÓg as a safe haven. It is a mirror image of your world, and the veil between the two can only be lifted by the power of twins whose eyes are endless mirrors of one another. Here our kind escaped the petty jealously of the old world, at least for a while.
“Tír na NÓg was meant to be a place of peace. A way to end the unnecessary death caused by fear. Of course, a few humans have stumbled in along the way, but as you well know, it is the witches who rule. They were chosen for their wisdom as well as their power, and for many centuries they ruled well. But there is always evil waiting to find the right soul to prey on. As time passed, some of the witches turned to dark magic. The good and the evil witches have fought for dominance for generations, blood against blood, and sister against sister. Now that you have arrived, some believe things will change. There were always stories about a maiden from another land, prophesized to sway the tides permanently. Hopefully the light will prevail, because if the dark witch has her way, we will find ourselves in a world far more horrible than any we have faced before. Or so the legend goes. I personally do not believe in such nonsense.”
He ended nonchalantly, with a careless shrug of his shoulders. Morrigan wondered how much of the legend was truth and how much was just simple folklore. She tried not to appear shaken, but it was unnerving to think she could be the one to change the fate of the whole land or that she was a part of some ancient prophecy. She preferred to believe people made their own fate based on the decisions they made.
“Wow, that was quite a story,” she said. “Hopefully we will give it a happy ending before all this is through.” She put the finishing touches on his bandages. “There, all done.”
Tiarn sniffed his arm warily, before turning back to poke the fire with his stick. “Thank you,” he said, albeit grudgingly. “Though I do not understand why it is you should care what happens to me.”
“I do care, Filtiarn,” Morrigan said, her throat suddenly tight. “More than you can imagine.” She hoped, she wished, she
prayed for a response. He refused to meet her gaze. Instead, he continued to stoke the flames, intent on watching them rise higher. She cleared her throat. “Well, I think now that you’re all taken care of, I’ll go clean myself up a little, if that’s okay.”
He nodded. “Do not stray too far.”
Morrigan grabbed her backpack and disappeared into the foliage. Once she was sure she was safely hidden behind the heavy brush, she pulled out the dress Alden had given her. It was a very feminine dress, with its simple white embroidery along the hemlines of the sleeves and low cut bodice. It seemed even lovelier in the bright glow of the afternoon sunlight than it had in the cottage. The blue material was the same shade as the midday sky, a color that was very complimentary to her dark hair and fair skin. It seemed almost sacrilegious to wear it for travelling, but it was far warmer and much less conspicuous than the clothing she had brought with her.
Morrigan hung the dress from the nearest tree branch while she peeled her filthy clothes from her body. Her gypsy skirt was torn to shreds and covered in mud and grime, and her sweater was peppered with holes. She used the little bit of water that was left in Tiarn’s canteen to splash herself and get off at least a little of the caked on dirt clinging to her skin. She found herself wishing she had packed her toothbrush and a stick of deodorant. But at least she found a hair brush in the bottom of the bag, which she used to untangle her long black curls. The dress was a little more complicated than she had expected since it had no buttons or zippers, but she somehow managed to get the bodice laced up without assistance. She finished off the ensemble by tying the white cord around her waist. Even without being able to see her reflection, she had never felt so elegant.
When she returned to the campsite, she noticed Tiarn had his eyes closed with his fingers pressed against the lids. He was still pale, and she realized he must have been exhausted after a night without sleep on top of dealing with his injuries. It was the first time she had seen him look so vulnerable, and she felt her heart swell with feelings for him once again. She inched her way closer and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.