Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  Ciaran looked at him inquiringly, but Taran decided to drop it. No need to broach the subject if the old wounds had at last begun to heal.

  “Excellent idea! I could do with a bit of attention,” Taran declared. He frowned to himself as he assessed the unpleasant tension in his body. He felt as if he had been left wanting recently. “There is a red-haired girl there I would not mind bedding again. Unless, of course, you favor her. After all, this is a momentous occasion.”

  “I was more in the mood for a blonde, myself,” Ciaran said thoughtfully as they set out.

  Taran’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that does sound better, now that you mention it,” he agreed with a laugh. He nodded to himself as he muttered thoughtfully, “A blonde… yes.” He clapped his brother on the back and marveled that, for the first time, Ciaran was standing tall. There was no stoop to his shoulders, as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted from him. Taran was thrilled by this. He draped his arm around his brother’s shoulders and grinned as they set out together.

  PAST – APPROXIMATELY 2,000 BC

  Brandubh watched the two young men in the distance. Faoil, he somehow knew, although he could only perceive the wolf in one of them. The other was mysteriously undetectable to his senses…

  With his curiosity well and truly piqued, he crept as close as he dared while ensuring they would not detect his presence. He knew it was imperative for him to remain hidden. Something about them intrigued him, pulled at what remained of his heart strings, reminded him of happier times… Their silhouettes. Their laughter. The way they so obviously cared for one another. Brothers.

  After a moment, he abandoned his efforts to trail them. As intriguing as they were, there were more pressing matters to address. He could sense that something had happened. Something of great significance. He struggled to remember what had led him to this place. It was deeply alarming to find large chunks of his memory simply inaccessible. He feared at first that Sorcha had somehow found him… but then he looked down at his hand. He was surprised to find that he had painted on his palm a symbol and a word. He brought it closer to his face for a better inspection. It was the sign of the Triple Goddess. The word gave one simple instruction:

  Trust.

  He frowned severely at that and curled his fingers tightly over the writing. The only Triple Goddess he had ever known was dead. Casting a troubled look up at the moon, he grabbed a handful of the wet, long grass beside him and dragged it across his palm to erase the message. Whatever he had been attempting to tell himself, he knew it must remain a secret.

  ??? – TRAVELING

  Skye’s 4,000-year journey was different this time – far more controlled. Rather than plummeting through the centuries in a directionless tailspin, she now traveled like a missile locked onto her target. She felt her own light. She was brighter and more defined. Her ascension had made this lengthy journey a great deal easier to accomplish. She gathered speed and strength as she moved, focusing all of her intent on her goal and preparing to fight for her life.

  She became aware of a powerful energy approaching… It was bright and hot and curious. It reached out for her, sought to draw her attention…

  She recoiled from the light. She had no time to explore this place. She did not belong here. She only wanted to go HOME.

  PRESENT DAY

  Ciaran watched the clouds gathering above them in the night sky. The wind was picking up, blowing their hair and clothing. Drostan winced as the whispers stirred.

  “She’s a-comin’, brother,” Ciaran declared. He looked over at Taran with a lopsided grin as he added, “Ooh, and she’s rarin’ for a fight.”

  “I frigging knew it!” Aiyana declared happily.

  “This about to be goooood!” Miko laughed. Cupping his mouth with his hands, he shouted toward the cave, “You’re in trouble now, you ugly fucks! The Queen Bitch is back, and she is pissed!”

  The wind rapidly approached hurricane force. Miko pulled Aiyana against his side to keep her steady. The men leaned into one another to stay upright as they watched the sky. Clouds were building and swirling, creating a massive, thick ring above the cave. From all directions, branches of white light began to race across the sky, all converging directly atop the cave. A roar was building in the distance as the center of the ring began to glow.

  Drostan groaned and covered his ears, gritting his teeth against the pain of the whispers. They were practically screaming now.

  The light grew brighter and brighter overhead until it was nearly blinding. Lightning crashed to the ground rapidly within the barrier, scorching the Earth and kicking up stone.

  “HERE SHE COMES!” Ciaran shouted excitedly as he gripped Taran’s arm. His voice was barely audible over the howling wind.

  Sensing the imminent danger, creatures began frantically fleeing the cave mouth on hooves and wings. Teàrlach was among them, furiously abandoning his territory before it was too late to do so.

  The faoil watched in wonder as the glowing white light overhead formed a funnel, then abruptly struck down into the cave. The impact was deafening and forceful enough to knock even the faoil off their feet. Light and debris erupted from the cave mouth, followed by a cloud of dust from the stone that had been obliterated.

  Taran stood and pulled Ciaran up with him, struggling to see what was happening in the distance. Creatures were still fleeing the cave, but behind them, Taran saw movement through the dust. He watched in awe and bafflement as Skye gradually came into view in the moonlight. He squinted and used the furthest reach of his vision to study her odd appearance.

  She was clad from head to toe in vicious-looking armor. Her face was painted in the ancient way. She looked remarkably like a woman from his mortal clan. And the way her stiff, whitewashed braids were styled to stick out the top of her helmet… A feeling of intense déjà vu swept over him. He could feel her hair beneath his fingers as if he, himself, had arranged it for her.

  He could see that she was carrying a longsword. She started swinging and spinning it expertly in her hand as she stalked toward her enemies, loosening up her fingers and muscles to prepare for battle. The move was uncannily familiar. If Taran did not know better, he would swear that she was using his own…

  Skye launched into the fray, chopping and slashing and kicking, decapitating as often as possible, and Taran’s eyes widened further still. There could be no denying it – she most definitely was using his sword techniques. But how?

  She wasted no time at all. Taking full advantage of the chaos caused by her arrival, she swiftly killed as many as she could. Dozens of creatures fell without a fight, too distracted to even see her blade striking out of the dust. Once the element of surprise was lost, she seamlessly switched tactics. She was savage and pitiless, going straight for the kill every time, sparing not a single move.

  Taran found himself able to predict nearly everything she did… Cut there. Slash there. Duck. Roll. Stab. She was moving as if he was guiding her hand. Instructing her. Training her. He could almost see it. A guttural growl drew his attention away from the vision that was his warrior Queen.

  Teàrlach was commanding the horde of nightmarish beasts, falling back to a safe distance and using them to draw on her strength. He stretched out his hands as he began chanting and the barrier flashed.

  Skye felt the change instantly. A surge of Teàrlach’s power seeped down into the earth, reviving enumerable deeply buried, lifeless husks. While dead, these creatures had completely escaped her detection. Now that the dark magic had filled and reanimated them, she could sense their awakening, quickly followed by their frenzied approach. Her eyes widened. She fought back her rising dread at what was likely the first of many unforeseen obstacles and traps.

  Taran watched in horror as the ground within the barrier began to shift, upending to reveal thousands of additional creatures as they clawed their way to the surface.

  “He’s planted beasts like bloody landmines!” Ruarachan shouted.

  “Merciful spirit
s, please, protect my wee love,” Taran managed in a hoarse, agonized whisper.

  Skye took great care to avoid the grasps of her rising foes, sidestepping them as they pulled themselves from their hiding places. She tried to remain calm as her enemies swelled in number. She tried to keep a sob from escaping her lips when she noted several creatures she had already killed were rising again – revived by the protection of Teàrlach’s barrier. Another unanticipated problem…

  As quickly as they formed, she silenced the words whispering in her thoughts: I have no chance. Thoughts like that were poison – nothing short of self-fulfilling prophecy. She refused to defeat herself. She refused give in.

  Wave after wave of abominations swarmed her from all sides. She noted that decapitation seemed to take them down permanently, but – given how closely they were pressing in around her – she was hard-pressed to find such openings.

  She swung nearly nonstop, but there was no end to the creatures. A veritable sea of dead – both temporarily and permanently so – lay in her wake. Still, that number was nothing compared to those still waiting to attack. She fought without pause for what felt like days.

  She could feel her strength waning. The sword was growing heavier in her hands. Her muscles ached and trembled. She knew it was time. Without warning, she turned and sprang up onto the rocky walls of the cave’s exterior. The creatures screeched and followed closely behind, but she had gained a small lead. She scrambled across the wall, searching for an opening. As soon as she reached a clear area, she launched herself down onto the ground and started running straight toward the barrier.

  Her clansmen crouched and growled, many transforming in anticipation of a fight, preparing for her to crash through the barrier and bring with her every one of the horrid beings that pursued her. Unfortunately, that was not possible.

  Her eyes locked on Ciaran as she made a beeline for him. She threw her power into their link, into the need to be heard. She could hear Teàrlach growl in outrage once she managed to connect with Ciaran. She did not have long before Teàrlach blocked her, but it was just long enough to scream:

  Ciaran! You carry my light within you.

  I need it now! Release it!

  Please! Help me!

  Ciaran’s eyes widened as he stepped toward the boundary and frantically tried to figure out how to do as she asked. He did not need to understand what she was saying. He trusted her words. There was a light inside of him, and she needed it. Ciaran cried out furiously as he extended his hand toward her, willing his body to release anything she required – anything he might have within him that could aid her. At his bidding, light quickly came into view in the center of his chest, bright enough that his clansmen had to shield their eyes. It raced down his arm, then burst forth from his palm in a solid stream.

  Far too concentrated and fast-moving to be absorbed by Teàrlach’s spell, the bolt of power was propelled with enough force to slice though the barrier like a hot knife through butter. Much to the fury of their clansmen, however, the barrier instantly sealed itself once the light had passed through.

  As soon as it all had left Ciaran’s body, his face twisted in anguish. Along with the devastating physical pain, the long-forgotten sorrow and soul-deep starvation held at bay by her power suddenly crashed into him. He let out a strangled cry, reaching out blindly for his brothers before crumpling to the ground.

  “Ciaran!” Taran cried out and took a step toward him, but he did not know where to look – to Ciaran, screaming in pain, or to Skye, still alone on the field of battle.

  “We’ve got him, Taran! You mind her!” Drostan called as he dropped to his knees to tend to Ciaran.

  Miko and Aiyana joined him, each trying to comfort and quiet him. They tried asking what was wrong, how they could help, but Ciaran was losing his mind to the pain. He screamed and clutched at their hands frantically as if trying to stop himself from falling.

  “You – defend them!” Taran ordered, pointing to Aodh, Ailean, Elijah, and several others, then down to the trio stooped over Ciaran. The faoil moved swiftly to follow his command, forming a tight, protective ring around them.

  Drostan wiped away the tears streaming down Ciaran’s face, then gasped as he connected with his brother. He closed his eyes and wept at the suffering he felt in Ciaran. At the secrets he could feel in Ciaran’s blood, and the powerful, ancient spell that had been used to hide them away. He winced at what he could sense brewing far beneath the surface. A tiny flame in the dark, struggling to come into being, to hold back the crushing darkness that had swallowed him up in the absence of Skye’s loving light.

  “We’re right here, Ciaran. Feel us? We’re right here. We’ve got you,” Aiyana rambled, though she had no idea what was even wrong. He just looked so terrified and alone, as if he feared he was slipping away somehow. She clasped his forearm tightly with both hands and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, feeling as if he needed an anchor. She noted that Miko’s instincts had been precisely the same. In addition to holding his arm in a similar fashion, Miko had his hand pressed to the center of Ciaran’s chest.

  “Hey, hey, hey, we’re here, buddy,” Miko reassured as he leaned forward and tried to catch Ciaran’s eyes. “Yo, Ciaran! Come on, look at me, bro! You’re not alone. It’s gonna be okay. Just hang on, please!” He sniffled and fought back sympathetic tears as Ciaran shrieked and cried. Forcing his voice to sound strong and determined, Miko gripped Ciaran’s jaw, turning his face toward him as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking die on me, McLovin! LOOK AT ME!”

  For a fraction of a second, Ciaran met Miko’s eyes and seemed to really see him, and something strange flickered in Ciaran’s gaze. An emerald green light that rolled like flames. Ciaran blinked, and just that quickly, it was gone. Aiyana and Miko exchanged freaked out expressions, but kept their hands grasping Ciaran’s tightly, refusing to abandon him. They glanced up to find Drostan giving them a severe look. No words were needed. They each nodded that they would keep quiet about whatever the hell they had just seen.

  Across the field, the power Ciaran had released collided with Skye mid-run, knocking her to the ground and leaving her gasping for air. She felt Ciaran in the light as it seeped into her. His joy and love for her. His protection. It overwhelmed her senses, dizzied her, but she knew she had no time to recover. She was able to sense his pain and terror for a fraction of a second before their link failed. Her heart clenched for him, but she had to keep going.

  She scrambled back up onto her feet only to find herself completely surrounded by countless variations of snarling, hellish creatures. Fangs and tongues and wings and talons pressed in on her for as far as the eye could see. Teàrlach stood off in the distance, towering above the rest, watching her with hatred dancing in its gaze.

  Skye struggled to keep her breathing steady as she surveyed the horde. With the addition of those that had risen from the rocky soil, their numbers had grown exponentially. Even with the power Ciaran had provided, the odds were not in Skye’s favor. There was barely more than a glimmer of hope that she could successfully take down all of these monsters and still manage to defeat Teàrlach. She schooled her features, refusing to flinch when she heard the screams in the distance. Ciaran… Her heart broke at the sound of him in pain. What had she done to him? He needed her. Her gaze turned positively lethal as she glared at Teàrlach. Ciaran needed her to take away his pain, and this evil FUCK was standing in her way.

  “Come then, Teàrlach. Fight me!” Skye goaded angrily. “Face me yourself, coward!”

  Several of her clansmen exchanged surprised looks as a few of her flawless Gaelic words echoed out across the field. They could barely make out what she was saying, however, over Ciaran’s anguished screams.

  Skye smiled at Teàrlach as she mocked, “Is that it? You are too afraid? You send your underlings because you can only handle me when I am restrained?!”

  Teàrlach let out a furious roar in reply.

  “COME ON!” Skye bellowed back, red-faced,
every bit as loudly.

  The enumerable creatures standing between them shifted and trilled, casting anxious glances back and forth, unsure whether they should clear a path. Skye sincerely hoped they would. She needed Teàrlach to attack her directly, so that she could release the bulk of her power in one terrible, deadly blow. If Teàrlach fell, so too would his barrier, clearing the path for her clansmen to come to her aid. She prayed that he would take the bait.

  She crouched down and swung her sword tauntingly. Her power caused her voice to roll like thunder as she declared herself. “I am Queen Skye Faolan of the Tàcharan Fhaol Clan. I am Moon Goddess. Daughter of Sorcha. I am Wolf. Daughter of Faolan. I am mate to your sworn enemy, Taran.”

  Teàrlach curled his lips back over his horrid teeth at the mention of Taran’s name.

  Skye pointed at him with her sword, glaring contemptuously as she snarled, “And I challenge you, sorcerer! Have you the courage to fight me?”

  Teàrlach screeched as he began skulking forward, fury burning brightly in his gaze as he so very nearly gave in to her provocations. But then, he stopped. He stood still for a moment, considering her.

  And Skye already knew that she was well and truly fucked.

  A horrid, gurgling cackle rose from Teàrlach’s throat as he slowly backed away once more. He would come no further. He knew staying at his current distance, separated by so many creatures, kept her at a disadvantage. When he spoke, Skye did not have to struggle to make out his words. They carried across the field to her, whispering beside her unnervingly with the aid of his dark magic.

  “Do you think me weak and irrational as Sorcha?” he snarled. “That I could be so easily blinded by emotion as was she? That I would risk defeat for something so petty as a thirst for vengeance?” He shook his head condemningly before curling his lips back and hissing, “I would never allow such triviality to blind me to the consequences of my actions. I am stronger than your fallen Goddess. Wiser. More patient. I have planned this moment for millennia, child. Buried my creations deep underground, knowing, one day, you would walk freely into my trap. I will not hand you victory now. Your titles mean nothing here. Your fury and insolent mouth cannot help you. Your half-breeds stand just there, useless. Incapable of protecting you. You may have found a way to slip yourself… and even that bit of magic past my barrier… but you are greatly weakened. Your efforts to evade me – your journeys through time – have taken their toll. I doubt even the surge of power you just received will aid you against my entire army. If you do manage to survive them, THEN you can try your hand against me.” He gave a cruel, terrifying smile as he added, “But know this, girl: by the end, I will carve that power out of you. I will still have my revenge. Perhaps, this time, I will bring Taran along to watch you bleed for me.”