Gates of Eden: Starter Library

by Theophilus Monroe

  Cú Chulainn and Aife shifted in unison. For Cú Chulainn, it was much easier to maintain control when he shifted on purpose. This way, he felt a sort of kinship with young Gwion, the boy who would later become Taliesin in his favorite tale. That's what he believed the faerie, Fand, had given him... the gift of Awen. The same power Gwion had sucked from his burnt thumb when tending Ceridwen's cauldron. This was different than when his rage compelled a shift. Drawing on Awen, rather than rage, he was not subject to the wolf's bestial rage. He controlled the wolf...

  As for Aife, perhaps it was because she and the wolf within her were kindred spirits that there was no such antagonism, no difficulty maintaining herself after transforming. The ríastrad didn't overtake her will because her will and its were one and the same. She didn't need the faerie's gift. Even if she drew on Awen, she'd probably not have much use for it. For Aife, the ríastrad was an extension of herself... not some kind of beast clawing at her soul to get free.

  Yes, Cú Chulainn and Aife had something in common. But they were not the same.

  Fully transformed, Aife made her way to the fortress and scaled its walls. Cú Chulainn hadn't ever done that—at least not that he recollected—but he followed suit. He wasn't sure how his claws managed to cling tenaciously to the stone walls of the fortress. His claws naturally found the crevices between the stones, and when they didn't, they broke through making holes of their own by which he pulled himself up the wall.

  Aife, in all her glory—beastly, furry, and red—bounded over the wall and howled as she perched herself on top.

  Cú Chulainn lept atop the wall beside her. Only he didn't howl. This was not a moment to relish. He was here out of necessity. To right a wrong that had been done against him. There was no thrill in what he had to do.

  Something struck Cú Chulainn's shoulder and ricocheted off of him.

  Cú Chulainn turned. An archer stood on the wall, the opposite side of Forgall's fortress. The look of horror on the poor chap's face when his arrow couldn't penetrate Cú Chulainn's hide was unforgettable. Cú Chulainn was no hero like this—he was an invader, a terror, a nightmare...

  A bell sounded. The archer, who must've doubled as a lookout, had apparently alerted others to the presence of the two beasts who were assaulting the fortress.

  Aife howled a battle cry.

  Cú Chulainn growled and leaped from the wall to the floor below, landing on all fours. A blade struck him in the back, which Cú Chulainn barely felt. He quickly pivoted, now on his hindquarters, and swiped the warrior to the side with one of his massive paws.

  Three more soldiers charged his position, all carrying broadswords.

  A blur of red fur came flying from the walls and collided with them. Aife tore at their flesh with her jaws.

  Cú Chulainn hesitated. He wasn't here to kill anyone... not Forgall, not any of his men. But Aife couldn't be stopped.

  Instead, Cú Chulainn turned to the pens and released the livestock. He shattered a silo of grain. If he caused enough damage, he figured, Forgall would suffer enough.

  But so far, the aged warrior hadn't so much as made an appearance. He was supposed to be brave...

  Brave, but smart. He knew what he was up against. He knew better than to strike at Cú Chulainn and Aife head-on.

  Cú Chulainn heard a shriek. It was Aife.

  Bounding around the corner he saw her, hot tar dumped from the wall above, burning her fur.

  Atop the wall stood Forgall. His eyes met Cú Chulainn's.

  "Come after me, you wretched creature!" Forgall demanded. "I know who you are and why you've come. Come and face me like a man!"

  Cú Chulainn bounded up the wall and met Forgall face to face. Towering over his former mentor, the man who'd first sent him away to Scotland to train with the warrior-queen, the man who'd falsely promised he'd give him his daughter's hand if he proved himself worthy...

  "I was right about you, Cú Chulainn! You are a coward! You face me like this... but you'd never face me man to man!"

  Cú Chulainn snarled. Forgall was right. This was not honorable. Sure, he could maim the man, he'd get his revenge. But if he did... if he did it like this... there would be tales told of him, no doubt. But he'd be the best some other warrior would conquer. He wouldn't be a hero...

  Cú Chulainn had never wanted to be a hero. But he wanted to be a monster even less...

  Taking a deep breath, Cú Chulainn listened to the Awen... he recalled how Gwion so seamlessly shifted, from hare to salmon to bird... He released the ríastrad and stood before Forgall.

  Cú Chulainn stood there in front of his foe naked.

  "Forgall, now would you be the coward who dares attack a man unarmed?"

  Forgall gripped his broadsword and smirked. "You're a fool, Cú Chulainn. In one form or another, you still have little more than the wits of a blacksmith's hound."

  There wasn't much room to move atop the fortress wall. Could he survive the fall in this form? He wasn't sure if he could shift back into the ríastrad quick enough before hitting the ground if he jumped. He'd have to do his best to dodge the blow from Forgall's broadsword. His chances weren't great given that Forgall was an accomplished warrior, seasoned by battle. Still, he had no choice.

  Cú Chulainn widened his stance as Forgall charged him.

  His best chance was to drop beneath the warrior's strike and go for a leg-sweep. All it took was a single pivot... but he'd also leave himself open to take Forgall's strike to the back if the warrior anticipated his move. And a strike to the back, if he didn't die, would likely rob him of the use of his legs for the rest of his life. But it was his best chance... his only chance...

  He had to time it perfectly...

  As Forgall swung his blade, Cú Chulainn ducked, pivoted, and went for the leg sweep.

  Forgall hopped over Cú Chulainn's foot.

  Cú Chulainn's back was exposed. He couldn't move out of the way quickly enough. He'd have to take the blow and pray to the gods it took his life rather than his legs. He couldn't imagine living without the capacity of his legs.

  A roar startled Cú Chulainn. He quickly turned in time to see a red blur of fur and fury collide with Forgall, knocking him from the wall. The two hit the ground outside the fortress walls with a thud.

  "No!" Cú Chulainn shouted.

  But it was too late. Aife had already sunk her fangs into Forgall's gut. Even if he'd survived the fall, by some kind of miracle, he wouldn't survive that.

  The sound of weeping to Cú Chulainn's left arrested his attention.

  "Emer," Cú Chulainn said, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry... I didn't want this..."

  Emer ran and embraced Cú Chulainn. "I saw what he did to you... how he tricked you... it is I who am sorry."

  Cú Chulainn nodded. "I wish things could have been different between us. But you are to be married to a king..."

  "I do not love the king!" Emer said. "And besides, the contract of betrothal is now null with my father's death."

  Cú Chulainn sighed. "After what I've done, how could I dare take you as my wife?"

  "You saved me from a marriage to a man I could never love. My father wanted to make me a queen. But Lugaid mac Nóis is a tyrant. A brute. You've saved me from a life of misery. Or at least you shall if you will have me, still."

  Cú Chulainn stood there in disbelief. Forgall was dead. He'd expected Emer would hate him for it. But he wasn't the one who'd killed her father. He looked down at Aife. She stood there, now transformed back into her human form, her face now three shades redder than her hair. "Come with me, lover! It is done!"

  Cú Chulainn took a deep breath. "I told you not to kill him. You said you understood!"

  "I said I understood, I did not say I agree! This is what is best for our son!"

  "Your son?" Emer asked, taking two steps back.

  Cú Chulainn shook his head. "I am sorry..."

  Emer took a deep breath then shook her head. "I admit, it is a shock to hear. But why should I hold tha
t against you? You and I were never intended until now. That is, should you accept my proposal."

  Cú Chulainn nodded. He turned again toward Aife. "Leave, woman. Leave and never return to me!"

  "You would abandon your son for her?"

  "It was not I who abandoned him. It was you who abandoned me when you killed Forgall."

  "I saved your life, you ingrate!"

  Cú Chulainn shook his head. "I'd rather die than live with this man's blood on my hands."

  "Forgall was right!" Aife shouted. "You are a coward! Our son will be better off never having known a father of such weak resolve. Cursed are you, Cú Chulainn! You will never find peace. You will never sleep another night knowing at any moment I might be there, ready to exact the blow to your back you should have received on this day. For the sake of our child, I will have my vengeance!"

  A raven—the same who'd appeared before the attack—flew and perched itself on Cú Chulainn's shoulder.

  Cú Chulainn... I shall come for you, soon, my love...

  A shiver went down Cú Chulainn's spine. Did he really hear the raven speak those words, or was it merely in his head? As the raven flew away, Emer took his hand into hers.

  "Come with me, my love."

  Was it Emer who'd spoken before? He could swear it was the raven who spoke, who'd called him 'my love.' But the day's events had probably warped his mind. Even shifting in and out of the ríastrad sometimes gave him temporary delusions. That had to be what it was. The raven, he figured, must've been a delusion. After all, ravens don't speak. And they don't generally land on men's shoulders.

  But he knew the raven had been there. And as strange as it was that the raven would perch itself on his shoulder was the way it disappeared. He didn't see it fly away. It just... disappeared.

  How odd, Cú Chulainn thought as he interlaced his fingers with Emer's.

  PART III:

  The Morrigan ◈ Cú Chulainn

  20

  I HEARD HIM cry as his body hurled to the earth. Even a warrior so renowned as Forgall, who'd faced death a hundred times in the heat of battle, was afraid for the half-second it took for his body to crash to the ground.

  His death, from my perspective, was but collateral damage. Still, I strive to be a just goddess. He paid his life that I might advance my scheme to make Cú Chulainn mine. I owed him.

  I stood there, doing my best to communicate empathy with a kind smile, as he approached the cauldron of rebirth.

  "Noble Forgall," I said. "For most of your life, you fought honorably. But when you deceived the young warrior that he might flee you brought your own death upon yourself."

  Forgall collapsed to his knees and, with tears in his eyes, looked up to me in desperation. "Divine Morrigan, It was only my intention to give Emer, my daughter, a life better than that of a warrior's bride."

  I nodded and extended my hand. In truth, I was already impressed that he knew who I was. Whatever I'd done, in my short time since the Dagda had made me what I am, had garnished me something a reputation. He took my hand and I helped the warrior to his feet.

  "I cannot fault you for your actions, Forgall. A good father will go to any length to protect his daughter." I winced as I said it. I thought of Fionn, my own father... how he'd gladly given us up to the Dagda that he might become a dragon, that he might secure vengeance on the druid who'd taken Grainne from him. Emer begrudged her father for betrothing her to a king, and a tyrant no less. But a woman could do worse than become a tyrant's queen provided he wasn't the sort of king who'd demand his wife's head if he thought her out of line. But Forgall had acted out of love.

  I was jealous of Emer, now, on two accounts. First, because she intended to marry my beloved. And second, because she'd had a loving father...

  Still, lest my jealousy might turn to envy, I had to temper my rage. I had a plan. I'd certainly see it through.

  "I was wrong," Forgall said. "She loved Cú Chulainn... dare I say more than he ever cared for her. I've known warriors like him all my life. He may have desired my daughter. He might have had affection for her. But he didn't love her. Not the way she did him."

  I nodded. Forgall was right. Cú Chulainn's heart was still set on the faerie Fand, the one whom he'd barely encountered and quieted his soul. I'd heard his thoughts. He tried to convince himself she'd been a dream. But she was real and he knew it.

  Still, intervening in Cú Chulainn's attempt to wed Emer was going to be a challenge. Cú Chulainn might not have loved her fully, but he did desire her. He had more affection for Emer than he ever did for Aife.

  But Emer did love the young warrior... she was taken with him. I was powerless to change that, the Dagda was clear. I was not to interfere with a human's will. Nonetheless, I could answer petitions of the dead. If such a petition might at the very least complicate the relationship between Cú Chulainn and Emer, so be it. If I offered Forgall a simple request...

  "Tell me, noble warrior. What would be your final request before you enter the cauldron of rebirth?"

  "Do you regularly grant all the fallen such requests, goddess?"

  I shook my head. "I do not. Suffice it to say I am in a generous mood. Question me again, and my disposition is likely to change."

  Forgall nodded and, stroking his beard, looked at me with wide tear-filled eyes. "Can you make my Emer fall out of love with the warrior?"

  I shook my head. "I cannot interfere with such matters of the heart."

  "I didn't think so," Forgall said. "It was worth asking."

  "Think, warrior. You know your daughter. I cannot manipulate her heart or her will, but is there something that might occur, that might befall her and would cause her to consider casting Cú Chulainn from her heart?"

  Forgall stood and, staring in the cauldron, pondered the question for a moment. "I would rather not test or tempt my own daughter. However, if you might test the warrior's affections... he clearly loves another, though I know not who. If you can discern it, afford the warrior a simple choice—a chance to be with the one whom he loved before my Emer and the chance to stay with Emer himself. Should he choose my daughter, so be it. I will resign the matter to the fates. If, however, he should choose to entertain his love for the one upon whom his heart has always been set, perhaps my daughter will see his heart belongs elsewhere and will leave him of her own accord."

  I pressed my lips together. I could not manipulate Cú Chulainn's will. And if I could not affect a human heart, still less could I ever direct whom a faerie might love. Did she even remember the mortal? Alas, there was little in my power to do. But Forgall's request was simple. I should simply afford Cú Chulainn and the faerie a chance... an opportunity... how either of them might act on such a chance was up to them.

  "So be it, noble Forgall," I said, extending my hand that he might take it as he stepped into the cauldron. "May your journey from death to life anew be a peaceful one."

  Returning to the earth I took the form of a raven, spread my wings, and took to the skies. I had work to do...

  Aife had answered my call before, perhaps she would answer my plea a second time. I could use her, still, to accomplish what had to be done in an effort to win my beloved's heart.

  21

  IT WAS SUPPOSED to be a joyous occasion, and for the most part, it was. The marriage of Cú Chulainn and Emer, the daughter of Ulster's fallen hero.

  Forgall had simply fallen from his fortress walls while trying to clean a bird's nest from one of the turrets. A tragic accident...

  That's what Emer had told everyone, anyway. If she told them the truth that someone with the ríastrad had done it, and they believed her that it was not Cú Chulainn, the people would expect him to avenge her father's death. And since Aife was the mother of his child such calls for vengeance would put him in an impossible predicament. Cú Chulainn appreciated that Emer understood him so well she did not demand vengeance against Aife... she was a better woman than Aife ever was.

  Cú Chulainn didn't want revenge. What had
happened to Forgall was a greater punishment than Forgall's sin demanded. And Cú Chulainn still blamed himself for it... after all, he'd agreed with Aife, he knew her temperament. Why had he been so foolish to trust she could exercise restraint?

  "That damn raven," Cú Chulainn whispered. The bird hadn't stopped cawing since the ceremony began.

  "Just ignore it," Emer said.

  He wanted to. If it were any old bird he might have been able to. But Cú Chulainn had seen this raven before. At least he'd seen one that looked exactly like it. It had perched itself on his shoulder and whispered something in his ear before it vanished into thin air. And now, to show up to interrupt his wedding to Emer? A coincidence? The appearance of a raven was something of a trope in many of the tales Cú Chulainn had learned during his training. Almost always an ill-omen, not the sort of thing one wishes to appear at his wedding. Especially not after the last time he'd seen a raven...

  "The marriage of a man and a woman," one of the local druids who'd been brought in for the ceremony began... Cú Chulainn had heard this sort of speech before. How the cycle of death to life is reflected in all things. How as the seasons turn the earth itself testifies to the pattern of our own lives. How if we embrace the cycle we'll find ourselves attuned to the earth, contented in life, and in harmony with one another. It was all true enough. But Cú Chulainn struggled to hear the druid speak on account of the damned raven.

  "Focus, my love," Emer urged.

  Cú Chulainn nodded. This was supposed to be a solemn occasion. A cause to celebrate. His bride should have arrested his attention. She was beautiful. He'd longed for her ever since the moment he first saw her. Did he love her? He thought he did. What was love supposed to be, anyway? It wasn't at all like what he'd found in the tales he'd learned as a bard. Such tales, as noble as they might be, are meant to inspire and encourage. The conformity of a tale to facts, to real life, is secondary. For a tale isn't told for the sake of the past. A tale is told that those who hear it might be enriched by it.