Moira's Song (The Moira McCauley Series Book 1)

by Lee, Tawnya

  She left the room, leaving Paul alone. Paul trudged through the passageway to the north entrance. His shoulders slumped, a scowl lining his face. At the entrance of the cave, he sighed and flew into the air toward North Kessock.

  Moments later, he materialized in Breasal’s bedroom. Breasal was sitting, legs crossed, in front of a fireplace, staring at the dying embers. “I’m assuming this is not good news,” Breasal said to Paul.

  “I’m afraid not. It’s worse than I thought. Medb and Richard have voted to enforce the law of motherhood immediately.”

  “This is what we expected, correct?” Breasal asked.

  “They voted in favor of the children being killed, no option for abandonment. They will require her to join the Tribunal at Tara tomorrow.”

  Breasal uncrossed his legs and moved forward in his chair.

  “They voted for the execution of Moira’s boys?”

  “Yes. Immediately.”

  “Fucking cunts. This is not a good thing,” Breasal said.

  “No, it’s not. Where is she?”

  “She’s hunting.”

  “Should we tell her?”

  “Moira has promised she will go to any length to protect her children. I honestly don’t know if we should tell her. But we must tell the others.”

  “We should tell her, Breasal. It might not prevent her from retaliating, but it may give her time to react with thought, and not recklessly. If we speak to her ahead of time, we may be able to temper her reaction.”

  “True, true. We’ll pledge protection and come up with a plan. We need to find her now and let Dubhan know to spread the word. We need the tuatha to gather at Tara with us.”

  Breasal pulled out his phone, and texted Dubhan. He held it, staring intently, as if to make the response quicker. The phone beeped.

  “That’s him. He will take care of getting everyone together at Tara. You and I need to talk to her.”

  He slid his finger across the phone screen and waited. It beeped.

  “She’ll be here shortly.”

  “Where is Seara?”

  “She’s with Moira.”

  “Good. We may need her help.”

  “Yeah, yeah, she does have a special touch.”

  “Let me tell her, Breasal. I’m part of the Tribunal, though after tomorrow there may no longer be a Tribunal to be part of.”

  “The whole fecking island might burn to ash.”

  “Pray to the gods this doesn’t happen.”

  The bedroom door swung open.

  “Pray to the gods what doesn’t happen?” Moira walked into the room, Seara right behind her. The two had interlocked hands. Moira’s face was flushed.

  Breasal looked at the two women, thankful Seara had thought enough to hold Moira’s hand before coming into the room. He hoped she had infused Moira with enough energy to temper the strength of Moira’s reaction.

  Paul walked to Moira, held her hand and bowed.

  “Dia duit46,It’s a pleasure to meet you, Moira. The last few days of my life have been solely focused on you.”

  Moira raised an eyebrow,examining Paul’s face. She looked in his eyes and searched his mind.

  “You will find I am very good at deflecting thought detection. But if I may, I am Paul, of the Tribunal.”

  Moira had become used to reading people’s minds over the last few days and felt a bit discomforted when she couldn’t probe Paul’s.

  “So you’re here to tell me my fate,” she said.

  “Yes. I’m here to warn you and plead restraint.”

  “Restraint? Then you are enforcing the law of motherhood.”

  “Yes. It was a split vote. But there’s more. There are three of us in the Tribunal. We voted two against one for immediate enforcement of the law of motherhood. And two against one for the execution of your children. You will be called to Tara tomorrow to hear the official ruling.”

  “I’ll burn the whole fucking planet before I let anyone touch my boys,” Moira growled.

  The light in chandelier burst. Shards of glass flew through the room. The fire, once dying embers, blazed as Moira spoke. Seara reached for Moira and attempted to pat her back, but Moira pushed Seara and she stumbled backward into the door.

  Paul noticed the iris of Moira’s eyes change from blue to red. He felt heat emanating from her body, and noticed the carpet around her feet had been singed. The smell of burning fiber filled his nose.

  “Moira, I know you don’t care for our laws. Understandably so. I’m here to plead my case for you to not retaliate, but go in hiding. Just as you would protect your children, I would protect the land and fuilteacha that I love.”

  “I told Breasal and I’ll tell you. My only concern is my children. And I will damn everyone to hell who would get in my fucking way.”

  “If you must,” Paul said. “But please, if our world is destroyed and chaos rules, the world your children live in will suffer. If not for other blood fae, then for Derek and Tristan. Please know that if you decide to fight the Tribunal, I will stand with you. If you leave in peace and hide, then I will protect you. Either way. But I ask for restraint.”

  “Moira,” Breasal said, “Dubhan and Liam are informing other blood fae who support you.”

  “I’ll fight, too” Seara said.

  “Seara, I want you to stay with my children. They won’t go the fuck anywhere near Tara. And I won’t leave them unguarded.”

  “I can do that.”

  Moira turned to Paul. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “I’m sorry it came to it. Shortly, you’ll receive official word from the Tribunal to appear at Tara. I have to leave soon. They can’t see me here.”

  Paul left the room. Moira shifted into a raven and flew out the window.

  “I’ll stay and protect the children with you,” Breasal said to Seara.

  “And avoid the fight?”

  “I’d prefer knowing we kept the children safe. I’m not just worried about the Tribunal sending someone for the children. I’m worried the rebellion will attack to agitate the bear.”

  Just then, someone knocked on Breasal’s window. A Tribunal guard hovered outside the open window.

  “Come in; it’s open,” Breasal said.

  “I have a message from the Tribunal for Moira.”

  “She’s not here,” Seara said.

  “When will she back?”

  “She’s out hunting. It won’t be long.”

  “Then I’ll leave this message with you, Breasal.” He handed Breasal a folded letter, with the red seal, the letters B and T stamped on the edges.

  “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

  Breasal nodded, and the guard disappeared. He tossed the letter on his bed, looked at Seara, and sighed.

  “And so it begins,” he said.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tara

  The hills of Tara rolled, undulating waves of vivid green. With the setting of the sun, the sky gradiated hues of orange and red. Hundreds of blood-drinkers lined up at Ráith na Ríogh, an enclosure with several formations half buried, gone, whispers of an ancient past. Inside the enclosure stood the Mound of the Hostages, a dome structure nearly two meters high. Dubhan, Liam, Sedric, others from the clan Brodie, and the house of Geraldine formed a large group to the right of the Mound. Various fuilteach, supporting tuatha and clans, and hermetic, solitary fuilteacha joined, as well. Nearly three hundred settled on the right side of the entrance to the dome. To the left, Jack, Erin, William, and others of the rebellion gathered. Grumbling and noise rose to a fevered pitch. Any idea of staying hidden was forgotten. Shouts of “Death to Man!” and “Anarchy and Chaos, Down with the Brehon” passed through the crowd of rebel fuilteacha. Dubhan and the blood-drinkers opposite them stood grim, silent, waiting. Away from the mound, in the center of the Forradh,47 stood the Lia Fáil,48 the stone of destiny. A lone raven sat perched on the stone.

  Standing outside the doorway to the Mound of the Hostages stood several Brehon gu
ards. Guard members flew to the outside of the formations and circled the enclosure. They formed a circle over the hill, hovering nearly twenty feet in the air. On their backs, they carried iron swords. Each guard wore leather gloves to protect their hands. The rebel blood fae taunted and jeered the guards.

  The Tribunal made their way outside through the doorway of the Mound of the Hostages. Richard, Medb, and Paul lined up, all clad in black robes. To their right, a lone guard blew a horn, settling the crowd.

  Richard raised his right hand and searched the crowd for Moira.

  “The Tribunal now requires the cailleach fuilteach named Moira to present herself to receive the ruling on the law of motherhood as it applies to her children.”

  Richard projected his voice through the crowd. The crowd stirred and murmured as they waited for the cailleach fuilteach to appear. The Raven on the Stone of Destiny took off in flight toward the Mound of the Hostages. The bird soared through the air, dipping and dropping, brushing against the hair on Richard’s head. He stumbled. Medb gripped his arm and steadied him. The raven flew toward the clouds and landed fifty feet from the Tribunal.

  The bird shifted, and Moira appeared. She was dressed in a black cloak and gown embroidered with silver thread in traditional Celtic knots. The cloak was clasped with a silver brooch shaped as the head of a raven. On the back of her cloak was an image of a raven, a cow, and a wolf. The animals shimmered in the moonlight and appeared to turn red, moving around on the cloak. The raven soared, the cow nursed her young, and the wolf ran down the length of her cloak and howled. The crowd of blood-drinkers, thrilled by her cloak, began to roar and applaud.

  “I am Moira, fuilteach and Banba witch, fulfillment of the promise of the Morrigan, avenger of Kennocha.”

  Her voice roared above the din of nearly six hundred baobhan sidhe. The crowd clamored. blood-drinkers gasped, talked, and whispered among the selves. “Could it be she?” “Is this the savior?” “Will she kill us all?”

  Richard bellowed. “Silence! Moira, do you understand why you are called here today?”

  “I do.”

  Moira’s irises blazed red. The grass at her feet began to char and tendrils of smoke curled up and around her cloak.

  “When Breasal turned you, he violated the law of motherhood. Any blood-drinker turned who has children under the age of eighteen must abandon her children. Should the child be under twelve, she must abandon them or kill them. You have two children, aged two years old. Correct?”

  “I do.”

  “We the Tribunal have voted and determined you must surrender your children to die immediately.”

  The crowd began to boo and hiss, shouting for the freedom of Moira and the boys. The blood fae rebels began to chant, “Kennocha, Kennocha! No to death for Kennocha!” Dubhan and Liam eyed the rebellion. They whispered to each other and braced for the worst.

  “What is your response?” Medb asked.

  “My response is that anyone who attempts to harm my children will die a slow, painful death. Your Tribunal will scatter, cease to exist, and they’ll write about you centuries from now. They’ll say you, Richard, are a fucking moron who pissed off the wrong fucking witch.”

  Peals of laughter and scattered applause rose from the blood fae crowd.

  “Then we must subdue you and hold you captive until we retrieve your children,” Richard said.

  Silence fell on the crowd. Moira stood, eyes flaming, appearing to grow taller with each breath.

  “Bring it on, fuckers,” she said.

  The guards circling the hill of Tara made a uniform descent toward Moira. With a flick of her wrist, she blasted the guards in the sky. They landed in crumpled heaps. Several guards on the ground attempted to rush Moira. She lifted her left hand, grabbed the first guard, and threw him against the other guards. They folded and collapsed into a pile, moaning. Another guard flew towards her, close to her right. Moira shouted, “Burn, you bastards!” The guard caught on fire and began to levitate, suspended in the air. Several more attempted what he failed from the left and from behind. Each guard became a floating torch. Their screams echoed across the hills. While Moira was fighting off guards, Aedus stood to the far left of the crowd and began to chant under his breath.

  Richard began to scream as flames licked his body. Within seconds, his entire frame was lit. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed the Irish sky. Medb pretended to fall over onto Paul. He caught her, and just as he was about to ask her if she was okay, she injected the side of his neck with the iron. He began to choke, and grabbed his neck. His skin turned blue, and he collapsed in front of the Mound of the Hostages.

  He stared at Moira. Help me, he begged.

  Moira heard his telepathic call and flung the unlucky guards still fighting her to the ground. She flew to Paul’s side, and held him in her arms. He spoke to her telepathically, allowing her to see his thoughts. She saw Medb inject him, and could hear the hardening of his blood through his body. She saw Medb vote to kill Moira’s children and Paul’s objections. Moira shrieked, a war cry, and pounded his chest three times. Paul sputtered and began to breathe easier. Moira turned to Medb and shouted, “You’ll die for this!”

  Instantly, Medb collapsed to the ground. Hundreds of millipedes crawled from her eyes and mouth. She screamed and rolled around, clawing at the bugs rising from her every orifice. A flock of crows flew from the south and cawed, pecked, and pulled Medb’s skin from her bones. Her screams began to drown in the sound of hand-to-hand combat of the blood fae, the rebellion fighting Dubhan’s men. Moira sensed Paul’s impending death and called on the Morrigan for strength.

  “Save this man for me, oh great Queen. Guide me and help me heal his body from this poison.”

  Inspired, Moira bit her own wrist, and squeezed her blood onto Paul’s tongue. Her blood gave him strength. The color returned to his cheeks, but Moira could still hear the slowing of his blood, the clotting in his body. She bit into his neck, sucked Paul’s blood and spit it on the ground. She sucked and spat, sucked and spat, until the only blood left in Paul was the little bit Moira had given him. He was weak but alive. She drew him to her and breathed into his mouth. Silver tendrils, wisps, flew from her mouth to his. Then, she gave him her wrist. Paul began to suck her blood. The more he drank, the stronger he became, until Moira began to feel dizzy and made him stop. She rested him on the ground. Meanwhile, the rebel fuilteacha attacked the blood drinkers that came to support Breasal. The hill was covered in smoke from the still burning Tribunal guards.

  “Liam! Liam!” Moira shouted, searching the crowd for the blood-drinker. She couldn’t see him in the turmoil. She placed Paul against the wall of the Mound of the Hostages and looked back at Medb. Medb, still alive, was screaming as crows plucked and pulled bits of her flesh. She fell silent as one crow plucked her eyeball and spat it on the ground. She called to the crows pecking Medb’s body.

  “Guard this man!” she said and left to find Liam.

  The crows gathered around Paul, their caws piercing the sky. They faced the mass of fighting blood fae. One crow perched on Paul’s shoulder, cawing three times.

  Moira pushed through the crowd, found Liam, threw the rebel fighting him to the ground, and grabbed his hand.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  Liam followed her to the Mound of the Hostages. He saw Paul, covered by crows, leaning against the mound.

  “Can you take him to Breasal?” she asked.

  “Of course, my Queen.”

  Moira hesitated at his words. Her head began to swim and she felt off-balance. She shook it off, blinked, and looked at Liam. Liam himself appeared confused by his words. Moira wondered what she had put into motion here today. Regardless of the outcome, Moira knew she was fulfilling her purpose.

  Liam nodded, picked up Paul, and flew away.

  Moira turned and looked around her. Seven guards hung in the air, dead but still burning. Richard was nothing more than burnt ashes in the grass. Medb was still alive, moaning. Moi
ra walked over to her and looked down at her. Most of Medb’s skin was pulled from her face. The birds had pecked at her other eye as well. The remaining eyeball, half-eaten, hung from the socket. Medb’s stomach and intestines were hanging from her body, lying on the grass. Medb turned her heard toward Moira and with deep, ragged breaths said, “Kill me.”

  “I’m sorry? What was that, bitch?”

  “Kill me.”

  “I will. Just as I promised my children, I’ll kill you slowly. I know you orchestrated this whole thing for your own gain. You know? I sang to my son last night. I sang to him about you. And now, I’m going to finish you off.”

  Moira knelt down beside Medb snapped each of Medb’s fingers and toes from her body. Moira thrust her hand into Medb’s chest, held up her beating heart, and squeezed it, dripping the blood into her own mouth. She began to lick the heart, then bite it, ripping the muscle open and sucking the remaining juice. She flung the heart onto the ground and picked up Medb’s broken body.

  “This is for my children!” Moira yelled into the sky. Her voice projected above the din of battle, beyond the cries and screams and groans. All the blood-drinkers stopped and looked at the cailleach fuilteach holding Medb. With one movement, she ripped Moira’s head off and screamed again.

  “I’m done! You can fight your pathetic battles, but I fight for my children only. I’m done. The Tribunal is over. I declare its death. From this day forward, there is no more Tribunal. I am the Brehon. I am the law. To the remaining guards, serve me or die.”

  Erin, Justan, and other members of the rebel fae pushed four guardsmen across the ground to Moira’s feet. Each guard kneeled except the guard to the far left, who sat, head raised, staring straight ahead.

  “You!” Moira said “What say you? Do you die today?”

  The guard remained silent, staring through Moira toward the Mound.

  “I asked you if you will die today or serve me?”

  “I am guard of the Tribunal, and I have sworn to protect, serve, and uphold the law.”