"My apologies," Cú Chulainn said. "I spoke out of turn."
The Morrigan turned back toward Cú Chulainn, a kind smile now splitting her face. "Think nothing of it. But I cannot hold time still forever. You must run. Escape this place and rescue the faerie... for once I resume time, you will not have much of it before the Fomorians attack."
Cú Chulainn nodded in gratitude and turned to run—carried along by the vigor of the ríastrad. He still didn't know what he would do, whom he would choose... but he did know he couldn't allow Fand to die. He had to save her. And he was grateful that this strange goddess had given him such a chance.
24
MY HEART SOARED even as I sent my beloved off to redeem the faerie whom he imagined he loved. He couldn't resist her. She couldn't resist him. But alas—I had him where I wanted. And now he knew who I was... did he love me? Not yet. But once he cast off the love of Fand and Emer, both, he'd see his heart was meant to be mine. Yes, the Fomorians were dispatched to take Fand's life. Though I must confess, that was my doing... I appeared to them as if I were the Faerie King himself.
They couldn't tell the difference. Manannán mac Lir was jealous, but he didn't want his wife dead. He wanted her back. I had to give my beloved the occasion to be Fand's hero, the opportunity to come to her aid
I extended my hand, time still stilled, and touched this strange magic the sorcerer had cast against Cú Chulainn. Whomever this was, he'd been a pleasant surprise. He'd been useful in my attempt to set my beloved against the Faerie King. The sorcerer wasn't of the Fae.
The magic he cast had a tingle. I dipped my finger into it and lifted my finger to my lip. Not Awen—not the power the Druids wielded. It was faerie magic. Only, when wielded by a man, their magic changed. It drew on humanity's nature rather than the nature of the faeries, who'd served the earth as guardians and protectors. It became something of its opposite. The faeries had recruited him because they needed someone else, a human, to do some of the unsavory things they couldn't do. Faeries, despite their infinite access to magic, are constitutionally incapable of violence.
I touched the sorcerer—unfreezing him alone.
"Who are you?" I asked.
The sorcerer looked back at me through the darkness that shrouded his face beneath his cloak. And he laughed...
"Tell me!" I demanded.
The sorcerer dropped his hood. I groaned. I'd seen him before, when I was still human... before all three of us were made one.
"Fear Doidrich," I said, recognizing the man I'd thought to be a Druid... the one who'd served the Dagda.
"It is I, indeed, my phantom queen."
"What are you doing here? Did the Dagda send you to thwart my efforts?"
Doidrich smirked. "The Fae have always served the Dagda well. My purpose here is in service to the Fae, at the Dagda's request. The fact that their interests and yours have happened to intersect is but an unfortunate coincidence."
I pursed my lips. I didn't trust Doidrich any farther than I could throw him. Of course, aided by divine strength I might be able to throw him quite a distance. I resisted the temptation to test my theory.
If the Dagda was trying to interfere with my effort to secure the affections of my beloved I had reason to be pissed. He'd told me he wanted me to come to him, eventually, of my own accord. Not like that was going to happen, no matter how things ended up with Cú Chulainn. But sending his lackey to try and screw with my plans wasn't helping much, either.
Of course, he didn't know my plans. Little did Doidrich, or the Dagda for that matter, realize arresting Cú Chulainn helped my cause. It gave my beloved a reason to go after Fand, to protect her from her husband who meant to kill her for her lack of devotion.
"Well, give the Dagda my regards," I said, waving my hand.
Doidrich narrowed his eyes. "You have no affection for him. Why would you offer him your regards?"
I smiled wide. "To give one regards only means to give one... consideration. Tell him I am giving his attempts to interfere with my pursuit plenty of thought."
"I told you," Doidrich said, placing his hands on his hips. "I am not here to thwart you in any way."
"Of course you aren't," I said, rolling my eyes.
"You're a fool," Doidrich said, pulling his hood back over his head.
"Excuse me?"
"You seek a complicated man. A man whose heart has been given to others, many others, in various ways. But you could have chosen a mortal who loved you already."
I raised one of my eyebrows. "A mortal who loves me?"
"I am a mortal, goddess... in spite of my power."
I almost gagged on my tongue. "You? You think I'd ever cast my affections on you? You were the one who, at my father's behest, gave me to the Dagda to begin with."
"I confess, I was a coward. Too afraid to come to your defense when the good god in all his might demanded I bring all three of you to him," Doidrich said, then took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully. "Perhaps I cast my affections as foolishly as you do."
"You're full of dung," I said. "You have no reason to love me. You don't even know me."
"And you know this warrior whose heart you pursue?"
"Besides," I said, ignoring his question. "What you say makes no sense at all. You'd defy the Dagda now when you were too cowardly to do so before?"
Doidrich smirked. "My love for you is on account of my love for power. And the Dagda is not here. Were you to succeed, your power would exceed that of the Dagda."
"And you'd be by my side... more powerful as my spouse than as the Dagda's lackey?"
"Precisely."
I rolled my eyes. "You're too late, you know. Even if I could ever imagine myself falling in love with you—which I should say is highly unlikely—I've set my heart on someone else. So why bring it up, now?"
Doidrich shrugged. "Many gods have been polygamous. Why shouldn't you? Just because a god or goddess does not fall out of love does not mean that the divine cannot love many humans at once?"
"And you'd be content to be my second love?" I huffed.
Doidrich laughed. "Of course, my goddess! After all, it is the power that moves my passions. Far be it from me to allow petty jealousy to interfere with my heart's desire."
"And you already wield the Dagda's power. That magic you used..."
"It is a gift from the Fae, not the Dagda."
"I have to go."
"Go? But time is stopped here. We have as much time as you're willing to offer."
"That's the problem, isn't it? I can barely stand conversing with you over the course of no time at all. And you expect me to love you for eternity?"
Doidrich chuckled. "I'll grow on you in time."
"Like a boil?"
Doidrich cocked his head. "Do you love boils?"
I shook my head, turned, and left—allowing time to resume as I did.
Doidrich might genuinely love power, even the power I could give him. But to love someone for what they give you, for the power you acquire, as a result, is not love at all.
It was different when it came to my affection for Cú Chulainn. If he were to love me, I would gain great power. But such would be the case no matter what mortal I might have chosen to love. It wasn't about power for me. It wasn't merely my freedom from the Dagda, either. For, once again, I could attain that no matter whom I chose as the object of my adoration.
It was Cú Chulainn's complexity, his depth... the heart of warrior combined with the grace of a bard. He was complex. And as three mortals combined into one, so was I. I resonated with his struggle. A fate had been thrust upon him he didn't choose. And while a part of me enjoyed being a goddess... it wasn't my choice. As Babd, as Anand, and even as Macha I'd had hopes and dreams for what my life might become. But as a goddess... as an eternal creature who'd never die... what was there to hope for other than escaping an eternity as the Dagda's wife?
I'd never love Doidrich. But encountering him forced me to consider the meaning of my existence. Was I bound to interject
myself in wars forever, to guide the souls of the dead to rebirth when I would never die or have the opportunity to enter the cauldron myself?
The question made me feel like something of a fraud. I didn't want to die. And I wouldn't. But would there be a time when weary of my eternity I might crave death itself? The chance to be reborn, to enter the cauldron, to start a new life with a degree of wisdom inherited from the life before, the chance to start anew, with a blank slate...
There is only one reason why one might not want to ever die... and that if one is blessed to be in love and share their life with one who loves them in turn.
If I could not secure Cú Chulainn's love, what would become of me? Would I be destined to an eternity resenting the very dead whom I was meant to guide to the cauldron of rebirth? I shuddered at the thought...
I simply couldn't fail. Whatever it took to make the warrior love me, no matter the cost... that's what I'd have to do.
25
CÚ CHULAINN LEAPED from his horse and, gripping his spear, thrust it into the heart of one of the Fomorians.
One down...
The other two were closing in on Fand's position. Fand was powerful in her own way—but her power, as a Faerie, was not the sort of magic meant for war or even for self-defense. Even the Faerie king had to recruit a human army and a powerful sorcerer—undoubtedly promising them some kind of blessing—when he'd come to arrest Cú Chulainn. Of course, no one knew everything the faeries could do with their power. Perhaps it was less the capacity of the magic they used and more the constitution of the faeries themselves that made them incapable of violence. After all, the magic the sorcerer wielded, what was it if it hadn't come from the Fae? And these Fomorian warriors. Three other creatures, somehow recruited by the Faerie King, to do what he could not... to murder his wife, the faerie whom Cú Chulainn loved.
Cú Chulainn inhaled as the ríastrad invigorated his gait. He didn't need a horse... he was faster than any steed in this form. Raising his spear overhead he threw it, catching the second Fomorian between the shoulder blades. The creature crashed into the sandy ground.
Two down...
Cú Chulainn yanked his spear out of the second Fomorian's body and charged the last Fomorian who was closing in on Fand.
"Sétanta!" Fand shouted as she saw him. Not many people still called him by his true name. But the last time he'd seen Fand that's the only name he'd had.
Cú Chulainn again raised his spear. The second Fomorian turned, raised his hand, and cast some kind of blue magic against his spear, causing it to turn around in mid-air and fly back toward Cú Chulainn.
Under the ríastrad Cú Chulainn was not only more agile, but his senses were also heightened. He dodged his own spear as it darted toward him through the air.
He didn't dare turn his back on the Fomorian to recover his spear. He'd have to rely on his strength... if only he allowed a little more of the wolf to emerge he'd use the beast's jaws or claws. Whatever it took...
It wouldn't be the first Fomorian he'd bested that way...
He hoped it would be his last.
But the Fomorian shifted shape—he took the form of a giant fish and dove into the sea.
Cú Chulainn stopped by the edge of the sea.
"I can't believe it's you..." Fand said coming up behind him.
Cú Chulainn looked at her and his heart skipped a beat. In an instant, he released the ríastrad and resumed his normal appearance. "It has been too long..."
A tear fell down Fand's cheek. She was even more beautiful than he'd remembered. "I cannot help that I love you still..."
"As I love you," Cú Chulainn said.
"It is on account of our love my husband now seeks my life..."
"Still, if I'm by your side, the Fomorian who remains will not dare come after you again..."
"Sétanta, my love. I cannot be with you. My husband would never..."
"I do not know how marriages work amongst the Fae, but in Ulster, if a husband ever attempted to take his wife's life he would be imprisoned. She would be released from the marriage contract."
Fand nodded. "That would be just and right."
"Then if such is true, for the sake of all that is right and just, you are not married..."
"But what of you?" Fand asked.
Cú Chulainn winced. "I had only just spoken my vows to my would-be wife when your husband sent an army after me... But the marriage was never consummated."
"And there was another... a woman with the ríastrad, like you. She assaulted the Fomorians before..."
Cú Chulainn nodded. "It is a wonder they were able to escape..."
"I don't know," Fand said. "She seemed to give up her pursuit once they fled... undoubtedly to my husband."
Cú Chulainn bit his lip. Restraint had never been one of Aife's virtues. If she didn't kill them, she had a reason. Nonetheless, there was no sense dwelling on her. She was his past. But his future was with Emer, or Fand if she would have him. "Marry me, Fand."
"I'd be forever exiled from my home... I could never return..."
"But we would be together," Cú Chulainn said, taking each of Fand's hands. The tingle of her magic warmed his hands.
"I don't know how it could be possible... a marriage between our kinds... it is forbidden!"
"You cannot return to Manannán mac Lir and I would prefer never to return to Ulster. If I do, I will be destined to live a life of battle."
Fand placed her hand on Cú Chulainn's cheek. "But you must return to Ulster, at least once. Think of the woman whom you left under the pretense of your vows. You owe her the truth."
Cú Chulainn sighed. He dreaded that conversation. But Fand had a point. What sort of man would leave the woman he'd committed himself to in word before consummating his vows without at least an explanation? He had to be the sort of man who deserved Fand's love. "I suppose you are right."
Cú Chulainn heard a caw. He looked overhead—it was the Morrigan, appearing again as a raven. If a goddess blessed their union who could prevent them from finally being together? He had one thing left to do—and it frightened him more than any warrior he'd ever faced or any battle he'd ever fought. He had to tell Emer.
26
THE THREADS THAT bound his heart, that kept him from loving me, were continuing to unravel. Aife was out of the picture. Emer would be soon. Only Fand would remain and what were the chances a union between faerie and human would work?
Still, I couldn't take the chance it might. At the proper time, I'd reveal to Fand the truth—that her husband had not dispatched the Fomorians to kill her, he'd sent them to rescue her. That they did not heed his orders was not her husband's fault.
And if that was the case, her marriage was not void by his betrayal. He'd never betrayed her. He loved her even though her heart desired Cú Chulainn. It might not be enough for her to return to him. She and the Faerie King were at odds before I ever got involved.
But Fand was betraying her husband even as I soared overhead. I couldn't watch. The passion Cú Chulainn had for her, it should have been mine. It would be mine. But I had to stick to my plan. I had to allow everything I'd set into motion to bear the sour fruit it was bound to do when everything came into its season. Still, to see the man whom I loved, his body enthralled by hers... him inside of her and her hands exploring his body...
Was I angry? Yes. But I was only angry at myself. This was my plan—but what other path was there? So long as his doomed relationship with the faerie did not run its course, so long as he did not thereby betray the woman he'd already vowed to marry, I'd never have my opportunity. This was the only way to free his heart that he might see me as his true love.
I spread my wings and soared across the countryside. The wind ruffling my feathers wasn't enough to distract me from what was happening... between Cú Chulainn and Fand. But I was willing to break my own heart if that's what it took to satisfy its desire.
Some mortals imagine that the gods don't know pain. They think only humans know
what it means to hurt, to ache, to desire... but that's not correct. Never during my human lives—as Babd, Macha, or Anand—had I experienced such a longing, such a desire, such a need that yet remained unfulfilled.
As three girls I'd known loss. All three of us lamented our mother's disappearance and, while only as Babd did I really understand what my father had done, all of us hated him for what he'd done to her.
As Babd, I briefly mourned Grainne's departure. But even that was nothing compared to the emptiness I experienced now, as a goddess, whose love remained unrequited.
As gods and goddesses, we were not immune to human sentiments like love, sadness, or pain. Rather, as immortal creatures, our love, our sadness, our pain never died. All our emotions were heightened even as our power was infinitely greater than that of humankind.
If only Cú Chulainn realized the depth of my love, the profundity of everything I felt for him...
I did not like the things I'd had to do to win his heart. I was like some kind of puppet master, pulling at the strings of human hearts, deceiving people to act as I hoped they would... only to see my plan carried out toward an end that would allow me to be with the one who was meant to be mine.
But who could judge me for it? I was a goddess... I am a goddess and evermore shall be! It was that word, evermore, that haunted me. It was the prospect of an eternity unloved or, worse, at the Dagda's side that drove me to do whatever I had to do to see my heart's desire realized.
Mortals like Aife, Emer, Cú Chulainn, or even Fand—for faeries do not live forever—live one life then are reborn anew, they have another chance to realize whatever of their former lives went unfulfilled. But we who are divine get no second chances. Yes, what I was doing, the manipulations of my hand, were regrettable. But whatever pain I might cause would be temporary. If I did not have my love, the pain I'd know would be eternal.
Not only can gods and goddesses feel pain. They know fear, too... not the fear of death, but the opposite. I was afraid of an infinite existence without my beloved. Whatever I had to do, that's what I would do. What other choice did I have?
Gates of Eden: Starter Library Page 126
