Morrighan's Champion

by C.S. Fanning

the mayor of Longford was thrown to the ground.

  The man landed in a heap and by the time Aeden could sprint to the pickets, guards had already surrounded the man. Though they had no idea what had transpired the event was sufficiently unusual to attract their attention. When Aeden arrived the man was not trying to rise or even to move but he was speaking.

  “Tell your men to release me! I will not be restrained like this!” he demanded.

  The guardsmen, none of whom were even within reach of the man looked at Aeden; it was obvious to all but the man himself that he was paralyzed, his neck broken in the fall. Aeden sent a guard for Fianna and Riordan then moved to crouch over the man.

  “So, you meant to sell us to the dark robes or the king?” he whispered quietly.

  The fear in the man’s eyes was clear, but he refused to speak. Aeden considered pulling his sword and carving some answers from the traitorous man, but the man would be unlikely to feel much now, and cutting on him might well finish him off. This was a job that required finesse and that meant letting the druids have him.

  Moments later the impromptu council arrived, with Fianna and a full squadron of her troops at their backs. Riordan had them form a circle around the scene to keep everyone else away, and Sianna approached the man. Riordan must have known what was coming, for he turned to the gathering crowd and using all the authority he could muster, he told them that their mayor had attempted to betray them and was now being questioned by the druids.

  There were some murmurs of dissent until Gareth spoke, saying that he would like to meet the villagers of Bretharc and the townsfolk of Longford to discuss their short term needs and how they might all work together to achieve them. His obvious lack of resentment towards the townsfolk of Longford seemed to comfort many of those assembled. The crowd slowly dispersed, moving in a mulling herd back toward the center of the encampment.

  By now the people of Longford appeared more broken than those of Bretharc that had been held so long in such terrible conditions, and it filled Aeden with a renewed sense of respect for these simple farmers whom he had known his entire life, apparently never truly knowing them at all. As his father began sharing his vision of moving them all back to Bretharc, at least until the crisis had passed, the villagers of Bretharc nodded their encouragement of the plan as many from Longford openly wept with gratitude at the generosity of their neighbors.

  When Aeden returned his attention to Sianna and the mayor, he was surprised that she had already begun to work on him. She had a hand on his brow, and another on his abdomen, and Aeden could both feel and see the power extending into the man, causing his paralyzed nerves to twitch and jerk. The look on Sianna’s face was grim but determined and the mayor was screaming silently in in agony.

  After several more seconds of this magical interrogation, Sianna relented her outpouring of power. “Who were you going to see? What do you know of these black sorcerers?” Sianna hissed in his ear.

  “I know you are just as bad as they are” he said, his breath a wheezing sound.

  “Oh no, I assure you that for anyone whose actions threatens my grandchildren I am much, much worse” she replied, sending her power redoubled into him.

  Aeden had never seen the power of the druids used in such a way. Then again, not so long ago, he’d thought their powers limited to blessings and fertility rites. The mayor’s writhing body gave mute testimony to the agonies being inflicted upon it, and Aeden wondered if the torture he witnessed wouldn’t kill the man as surely and quickly as his blade would have.

  “The magic won’t let him die until she decides” Finnis whispered to him quietly, as though he had been reading Aeden’s thoughts.

  Sianna withdrew her power once more. “Are you ready to talk?” Even as she asked the question she began to extend her power once again, although this time very slowly. The mayor’s eyes showed the pure panic that possessed him and he emitted a squeaking whimper. Sianna withdrew her power once again and looked at him pointedly. The message was clear, speak and speak the truth, or this would continue indefinitely. The man was no hero; in fact he was quite the coward.

  At first his words were cracked and broken, but as he began his tale the words and the story came easier. “These black robes as you call them are known in their own lands as the Sorginak and they serve the goddess Mari. The are from the lands south of Gaul, where only she and her consort, Sugoi, are the last remaining gods of that land. It is the will of Mari to rule the world, and her priestesses work day and night to forward her goal. You have not encountered their like yet, but you will. Those you have faced thus far have been nothing more than the lesser minions of these witch queens. There are three of these queens and each is said to have more power than any of our gods.”

  “And what did you do for them?” Sianna asked, clearly annoyed by his answer.

  “I was a liaison for the chief consort of Yani, the witch queen dispatched to conquer our lands and destroy our gods. You may think you can win, but Gaul is already in their control, and our gods could not lift a finger to stop her. I am just a messenger, but when I fail to report, the consort will be seeking me. That will lead him straight to you. You will all perish in the flames of his power.” The venomous tone with which he spat this last out suggested that he knew he was not going to survive this.

  Sianna looked up at Finnis who nodded. “He is but a fool and a puppet misled by his own desire for power forever denied him. Give him mercy, undeserved as it is” Finnis instructed quietly. Sianna’s power flared anew only this time it was different; not bringing pain and torment but instead effusing the mayor with peace even as it snuffed out the candle of his life.

  “We must prepare. Let us set the refugees upon their path and cover the signs of their passage and then we will discuss how best to proceed” Riordan said from just behind them.

  The Breaking Storm

  It had taken much of the next day to get the refugees on their way and cover the signs of their passing. Gareth was to lead them on a circuitous route to Bretharc, staying to the forests to keep from sight, and Riordan had sent a pair of the younger druids with him despite protests to help as needed.

  Fianna had sent scouts back to Longford and around the newly formed lake to determine if indeed the king’s forces were somewhere on the opposite shore as the rumors claimed. Riordan had sent another of his druids north to get word to Lord Donegal of what was happening. As they waited for the return of the scouts they took council on what they had learned from the mayor.

  “He was fooled by a few tricks and fed lies he wanted to believe” Aok commented making a rude sound.

  “Perhaps, but I have met these Sorginak in combat Aok” Riordan said, “and we would do well not to underestimate their powers.”

  The discussion went on for hours among the learned druids, intensifying each time one of the scouts reported in, dropping to a lull when no new information was forthcoming. When the hour came for the last remaining scouts to have reported in, the entire contingent fell silent as the darkness fell with still no word from the four scouts who had been sent around the lake. The tension mounted with each passing moment as minute after minute passed in silent contemplation.

  Riordan was considering what the absence of the returning scouts could mean when they heard a horse approach. At first the sentries thought perhaps the horse was riderless, but as it came within the light of their torches they could all see the rider slumped forward over the horses back, an arrow piercing the left side of his back. The wound was deep and the red foam around his nose and mouth suggested that it had pierced a lung.

  Fianna reached him first; Aeden and Finnis were close behind. “He’s alive, but just” she exclaimed. Finnis lay a hand on the man’s back gently and after a moment the man’s eyes fluttered open.

  “General Fianna, the king’s army is just beyond the lake. They are setting up a floating bridge now, just north of Longford
, and may be on this side of the river by noon tomorrow. There are dozens of the black robes driving them on, and it appears the king has mustered the entire south” the scout warned. No sooner had he finished speaking than he slumped forward and slid from the horse into Fianna’s arms. With literally his last breath he had delivered his warning and then died.

  Aeden wanted to crack a joke about “General Fianna” but the situation called for more tact. Besides, the dying man had used the term so seriously that he had most certainly meant it. If her troops were calling her general, what did they think she was general of?

  His reverie about this novel title was cut short by the flurry of furious activity resulting from the report. No one was waiting for the remaining scouts return now, and no one seemed to expect now that they would. Fianna and sent Iollan to break camp and form up the troops, while Riordan gathered the druids, and held an impromptu meeting. Aeden felt utterly left out of the preparations as those assembled broke camp and were ready for the rode in minutes.

  Riordan caught Aeden’s look and recognized both opportunity and need. Only Aeden could ride like the wind in full darkness and reach Lord Donegal in time to insure that his army was prepared for what was coming. He didn’t even seem to recognize