by C.S. Fanning
on Riordan who sagged in his saddle, overwhelmed by the colossal power she wielded. For a moment Aeden feared that his friend was lost, but the staff he carried flared to life, and though he was still paralyzed by her attack and unable to move or counter her, he held off her attack with an iron will that Aeden was proud to see in his friend. The druids had a leader that would not surrender to the dark magic ever.
Aeden’s attention was now completely upon the two combatants, so it wasn’t until he heard the twang of Fianna’s bow and the almost simultaneous thud of a steel tipped arrow sinking into its target that he realized that something more was happening. Snapping his attention back to the others, he noticed that one of the Sorginak queen’s minions was moving toward Riordan, slowly nudging his horse, while the other lay in a heap under his own horse with the shaft of a silver fletched arrow protruding from his skull. Reflexively, Aeden drew his sword and leaning in his saddle stabbed the second large Sorginak in the eye, killing him effortlessly.
“You see my king; what traitors we are faced with? Killing my men under flag of parley” the Sorginak said bitterly as she broke off her assault. Turning her horse she grasped the reins of the king’s stallion with one hand, and then drew a small knife from insider her robes with the other. In one quick motion she slashed the king’s arm deeply with the small knife and tossed it to the ground before galloping back toward the king’s army. As she rode, she was screaming loudly “Traitors! They have assailed the king himself during parley!”
“Well, that was a setup” muttered Fianna.
“Aye, and now they will fight twice as hard” Donegal said. “Lad, I hope your plan works.”
Donegal turned to ride back to the army awaiting him as planned. Aeden dismounted, setting the cauldron upon the ground and turned to drive away his horse. He was surprised to see it already running across the bowl toward the waiting army with Riordan and Fianna’s mounts. The two were standing only a few feet away with the look of people prepared for an argument.
“We had an agreement; you gave me your word” Aeden said, exasperated.
“And we have honored that word, both the druids and Fianna’s men have been ordered to retreat at the signal” Riordan said.
Fianna said nothing, instead demonstrating her intention by rapidly creating a semicircle of arrows, loosely stuck in the soil around her. Aeden realized that he’d been tricked into believing that they would agree abandon him to his fate. Before he could give voice to further protest the horns of the king’s army blared in challenge, and the ground shook as thousands of men and horse thundered down the hill in a mad charge.
On the hill behind them, horns rang out in answer and a steady beat of war drums kept cadence as the army of the north marched over the rim of the bowl. This was the crucial moment, and Aeden had to turn his attention to the enemy. He had to be sure the Sorginak queen was among the advancing force before giving the signal.
“There!” Riordan shouted, as a great number of black robed riders broke from the chaos of the king’s army. At the heart of the group of well over a hundred of the Sorginak their leader rode straight at the trio alone on the plain. Fianna’s bow was singing furiously, and an officer in the king’s army fell from his saddle each time her weapon thrummed.
Aeden’s hair stood on end as the Sorginak horde gathered power and he prepared to complete his spell. He hated that his friends were here, he didn’t want them to die with him, but at the same time it was comforting that they would stand with him. A tear of gratitude rolled down his cheek as he made ready to end the threat facing them.
He could feel the attack building before it came, and it was nearly too late when he realized that the combined might of the Sorginak was not directed at himself but rather at Riordan. Apparently, the Sorginak queen had erred in judgment, believing Riordan to be the threat after their encounter during the parley. Aeden didn’t think; he acted. Leaping in front of his friend with Caladbolg held high, he caught the power of the spell upon the blade. The sword drank in the power, passing it through Aeden and into the earth. He became the conduit for immense power, and as it passed through him it burned him. Aeden could hear someone screaming as the combined power of hundreds of dark sorcerer’s burned through him. Only when the cry had faded to a trembling gasp did he realize that it was he who had been screaming.
Riordan’s hands flew up in a signal and the druids at the valleys rim began to gesticulating wildly as they brought their own magic to bear against the Sorginak. The ground shook, opening here and there to swallow riders and their mounts whole. Enormous roots erupted from the earth, tripping horses and causing large numbers of riders to be hurled from their mounts. Some of these were grasped by the prehensile roots and vines which constricted with such might that limbs and torsos alike were pinched in two. Druids whose specialty was weather magic sent bolt after bolt of lightning from the heavens crashing into the horde of Sorginak.
The onslaught of the druids was incredible, but not sufficient to turn the tide. Riordan knew that all was lost unless Aeden finished his task, so bracing himself he shouldered Aeden aside and took the assault upon his staff. The druids had mitigated much of the power of the Sorginak, and using his staff as a lightning rod rather than his own body he was able to ground out the attack. His hands, where he held the staff, were charred to a crisp, and in he was so burned that he could not even feel the pain anymore.
“Get it done” he shouted to Aeden who stood dazed from the lingering effects of the power he had channeled.
Fianna shook him. “It’s now or never” she cried, “he can’t hold much longer, and I am down to my last arrow.”
Shaking his head to clear away the confusion Aeden turned to the cauldron, and summoning every remnant of power that he could, he completed the spell just as the Sorginak reached them. Fianna signaled the commanders on the hill behind and soldiers and druids alike turned and retreated at a run.
Aeden wasn’t sure what to expect, but the little puff of steam from the cauldron was not it. He felt betrayed as the riders approached, mere feet away. He heard Fianna’s bow sing a final note and the rider bearing down on him fell face first from his mount in the sod, inches from where he still knelt. He heard Fianna draw her small sword just as he heard Riordan grunt, and the power that had been holding back the tide of dark magic faltered.
Riordan was hurt or dead, and Aeden’s rage boiled over. As the lion’s share of the Sorginak’s power now turned in him he rose and charged straight into the heart of the enemy force, intent upon killing the bitch that had caused so much pain.
Sorginak puppets threw themselves at him at first, and he slew them like straw dolls, hewing limbs, bodies, and heads. It wasn’t until the mist overtook him, enveloping him and his enemies in a fog that shrouded the field and limited visibility to a few feet, that he realized that other powers had joined him in his fight to avenge the suffering of his friends, family, and land. No sooner had he become aware of the mist than the screaming began, and the sounds of combat surrounded him. Confused and uncertain, Aeden stood still looking for some indication of where to ply his simmering rage.
A figure in dark robes materialized from the mist, and Aeden narrowly checked his attack when he realized that the approaching figure was the Morrighan herself.
“It is a poor reflection upon me when my Champion is standing about looking lost during a battle” she said with mock severity, “this way.”
She led him deeper into what had been the knot of Sorginak. The mist was already thinning and the cries had faded in large part. Bodies, hideously rent, were strewn everywhere and among them strode a host of creatures that were known to Aeden from the fairy tales of his youth. Gods, elves, and fey of all sorts moved through the mists, scanning the fallen for signs of life. The scene was surreal even in light of the adventures that he had faced since his Nameday.
When the Morrighan brought them to a halt he found himself beside her with t
he Dagda to his right and Ogma to his left. The three were watching the diminutive thrashing form of the Sorginak queen. Ogma’s twin sons had stretched her out upon the ground, one holding her feet and the other pinning her arms over her head.
“My sisters will burn your entire country, you and your ignorant worshipers will perish as they raze the ground and bury your hollow hills” she ranted as she desperately fought to free herself.
The Morrighan looked to the other gods, who each in turn nodded. “It had been decided that you will carry a message to your sisters” the Morrighan said with a ghost of a smile upon her face.
“Then release me fool” the Sorginak queen screeched, her haughtiness returning along with hope.
“Oh I plan to” the Morrighan said, her smile growing broader as she moved to stand over the young woman. Reaching down, she grasped the girls head in both hands and looked into her eyes. “Perhaps it would have been more accurate of me to say that we are sending you to your sisters as a message. I don’t suppose we need to send all of you though” she said as maniacal laughter burst forth from her lips. As recognition followed swiftly by fear dawned in the girls eyes the Morrighan stood, jerking upwards on the girls head.