The Morrigan screamed again and let fly with another spell. This time it flew through Grace’s hair, the singed smell drifting across the clearing. For a third time the stone rang out its chime.
The smile left Grace’s face as she said softly, ‘Beauty grown sad with its eternity, made you of us.’
The Morrigan went still but spoke quietly in a voice that was not her own. ‘I loved that poem.’
Grace swung her wand arm up. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice breaking. A spell left the tip of her poplar wand and sped across the space between them.
The Morrigan tried to raise her wand but her movements were sluggish. Her speed had vanished and, unlike the Morrigan’s spells, Grace’s aim was true. The witch was lifted from her feet and thrown backwards across the circle. She landed in a crumpled ragdoll heap in front of Modron.
Grace dropped her wand, ran to the fallen witch, and gently caressed her face, brushing the hair away from the Morrigan’s eyes. The witch’s eyes fluttered open but it was clear death was close. ‘Can you hear me?’ said Grace. Her voice choked with tears.
The voice that softly replied was no longer that of the Morrigan. ‘Sister?’
Grace nodded as tears ran from her eyes. ‘Yes Aoife.’
‘I knew you wouldn’t leave me to the witch.’
Great wracking sobs threatened to engulf Grace as she cradled the dying witch.
‘What’s happening?’ said Niamh to no one in particular.
Azrael laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Your mother is doing what I should have done many years ago. The witch needed to die by your mother’s hand to free her sister, but the freeing meant death for both. And now you have your part to play.’
The wizard muttered something in a language Niamh and Grady did not understand. Both the children went numb as they felt their minds being overcome by the words and the power of the Twins. It took only seconds but that was all Persephone and Hephaestus needed.
‘I am sorry it needs to be this way,’ said Azrael solemnly. ‘But my final chapter is yet to be read. And now you have the power to do so. Goodbye.’
Azrael stepped closer to where Grace sat cradling her sister. As he did so a ghostly green mist began to rise from the still breathing witch. Azrael glanced at the spiralling spectral form that began to take shape, and nodded to the children.
‘It is time,’ he said, before closing his eyes.
The children felt their wand arms rise, unbidden by themselves, and knew what was about to happen. But there was nothing they could do. A killing blast left their wands at the same time and struck Azrael in the chest. But unlike Grace’s killing spell the wizard simply dropped to the ground beside the Morrigan. The same ethereal mist began to drift out of his body and in seconds formed a ghostly shape that the children recognised as the young Azrael. It turned to the figure that had risen from the body of the Morrigan and reached out with one hand towards her.
‘Come,’ he said gently. ‘It is time to rest.’
The other figure looked confused. Then its features formed more solidly into those of the beautiful witch the children had seen when Azrael sent them to the past. The Morrigan stood looking more radiant than she had in real life. The madness the eyes had held in life were replaced with a magnificent serenity. Beauty seemed to radiate from her and the children knew why Azrael had once loved her. The apparition nodded and took Azrael’s hand before embracing him. Together they turned to Brighid and smiled. ‘We are ready.’
Brighid stepped forward and opened her wings. They blazed brightly in the clearing as the creature seemed to grow. The phoenix floated gently across towards Azrael and the Morrigan and softly, folded its wings around them. The two were hidden from view as the light from the phoenix became painful to look at directly, forcing the children to shield their eyes. The body of Azrael lifted itself from the ground and rose into the night sky before being consumed by a flash of light. Sparkling dust motes drifted down and landed gently on the ground before vanishing. The glow of the phoenix faded slowly. In moments all that was left was the ruddy golden glow of Brighid. Azrael, and the Morrigan, were gone.
Grace still sat cradling Aoife. ‘I can’t turn back the spell. I can’t save you,’ she said, sobbing.
‘You already have,’ said Aoife weakly. ‘You could not rescue me from what had to be done. I did what I could. I made sure she missed.’
‘I knew you would,’ said Grace.
Aoife nodded and stared at the stars and the blood moon above. ‘So beautiful … goodbye … sister.’
Aoife’s eyes closed as a final breath escaped her lips.
Murdock bowed his head. ‘It is done. The end of the witch, the end of the sorcerer.’
Merritt scowled at the elf. ‘At what cost, Murdock? At what cost?’ He shrugged off the elf’s hand from his shoulder and ran to Grace.
Modron stepped down from the stone plinth as witches and wizards began to appear at the edge of the circle, and moved to help those wounded by the spells of the Morrigan.
Niamh and Grady stood rooted by shock and the control, still, of the Twins. But shock was replaced by wonder as before their eyes the Children of Lir began to rapidly age.
‘Hep.’
‘Yes?’
‘Time to release us.’
‘Nnnnooo. I don’t think so. Not yet.’
‘We have to help them!’
‘You can’t. No one can.’
‘Release us!’
‘I said not yet. It feels … good. It feels …’
Hep’s words were cut short as a surge of power through the connection wrenched the spirit from control of Grady’s body. Reality flowed back to Grady, the gloom of the night falling like a shroud over the hypersensitive state the control of the Twins had provided.
Niamh grabbed Grady’s hand. ‘Are you alright?’
‘I think so. How did you do that?’
‘Persephone wouldn’t give me my body back. So I took it from her.’
‘Neither would Hep. I wanted to help the sorcerers but …’
‘I think the Twins are right. There isn’t anything we can do for them. This is the end of a long winter for them. Time for them to enjoy some rest.’
A ring of people stood a respectful distance from the Children of Lir that sat on the dewy ground. The blood moon had passed and the splendour of the bright full moon began to cast a hopeful glow over the circle.
Niamh and Grady made their way through the throng, a path opening up before them. One sorcerer still stood, though she seemed to age even as the children approached. Niamh knew with certainty who the woman was.
‘You are Fionnuala. You are the Children of Lir.’
The woman bowed but staggered as she did. ‘And you are the Twins we were told would save us.’
‘We’re not twins. At least not in the way you think. It’s complicated.’
‘We have no time left for complications,’ said Fionnuala. ‘But we have had enough of time. I believe this was meant to be our ending. Thank you for releasing us.’
‘But we didn’t,’ said Niamh. ‘Fingal and his friends got you out.’
Fionnuala smiled. ‘If you had not been here, if Modron had not been brought back, if the blood moon had not risen tonight – at this time, in this place, then all the powers of Avalon and beyond could not have brought us back. Everything had to be perfect. And it was.’ Fionnuala staggered and fell to her knees. Niamh and Grady ran to her side.
‘What can we do,’ said Niamh, a tear rolling down her cheek. She lifted Fionnuala’s head to her lap. ‘Too many people are dying for us tonight!’
Fionnuala shook her head. ‘No. You’ve brought peace and rest. And helped put right a thousand-year wrong. Look after my brothers and sisters. Take our wands to the castle, and return them to the lake shore at its feet. They should rest with our father while we rest here. That is how it was written. That is how it will be done.’
‘But …’ Grady began to say before being shushed into silence by Fionn
uala, her breathing now shallow.
‘Goodbye. And thank you …’
The ancient figure closed her eyes. Her head dropped to Niamh’s shoulder before her breath stilled completely. Niamh laid her gently to the ground. Around them the remaining children sat or lay with arms around each other. A peaceful smile graced the lips of each of them as they passed from the world. A breeze came up from the lake edge and washed over the circle. As it did so a silver mist rose from the twelve still bodies and spiralled around the circle. Faces could be seen within and a ghostly sigh of release filtered through the night air. The spectral figures linked hands, rose skyward, and vanished from view.
Chapter 27
Tree and Stone
The sun rose over the tops of the mountains and showered the lake edge with sparkling light. It filtered through motes of dust and made it seem as if the world floated in a sea of crystalline magic.
Twelve mounds marked by flowers and flags sat at the foot of each of the stones in the circle. A thirteenth mound rose in the middle. A crowd surrounded the circle as the king and queen, followed by the rest of the family, filed in and took up positions around the central grave. Speeches were given, tears were shed, and farewells were made.
Finally, a gap opened up between the castle guards marking the perimeter, and Modron appeared. The sunlight made the crystal fractures within the troll sparkle and flash so that it seemed as if a moving wall of sunlight had entered the circle. She stopped at the foot of the central mound and took a small seed from the pouch slung across her shoulder and silently handed it to Grace.
‘Thank you,’ said Grace, taking the seed and placing it on the middle of the mound.
Modron began to sing softly as she had in the throne room of the trolls. She knelt, and placing one hand on the ground, turned to those around her.
‘You may wish to stand back.’
Niamh and Grady stood solemnly beside Grace and Merritt as Modron turned her attention back to the mound. Again she sang the soft note and the earth began to tremble. First the mound sank into the ground before a sapling shot from the soil. The sapling began to blossom in height and girth, branches shooting out as it grew. Leaves appeared, withered, died, and were replaced again as the tree grew and grew before lurching to a halt, its branches waving.
Around the circle the remaining mounds sank into the earth and were replaced by lush green grass. But each standing stone began to glow as the names of each of the Children of Lir carved themselves into the hard granite.
‘My gifts to you,’ said the troll, bowing her head.
Brighid’s voice sounded loudly across the clearing. ‘Go now and remember. The ceremony is done!’
The crowds surrounding the circle began to dissipate. Before long the circle was left to the royal family, Murdock, Brighid and Modron.
‘Grady,’ said the troll. ‘Will you help me now?’
‘To do what?’
‘To bring an end to future temptations.’
Grady took a breath and stepped forward.
‘Only you have the power to end this here,’ said Modron, gently taking his hands. ‘Your strength in Earth and Fire mirrors the great powers of the sorcerers that helped build this portal originally. Now we need to close it forever. We need great power to do this. We need your power.’
‘What do I do?’ said Grady. ‘I don’t have much experience with this sort of thing.’
Modron laughed. ‘No one does. Hold my hand. And whatever you do, don’t let go.’
‘That sounds ominous,’ said a smiling Grady, but his heart beat loudly as he looked at the tall stones.
Modron held Grady’s hand as she placed a hand on the stone spire which pulsed blue again but this time there was no turning of the circle. A golden glow began to radiate from the stones, accompanied by a low hum as if the stones themselves were vibrating. The hum kept building, reaching a higher and higher pitch until Grady thought his ears were going to burst.
‘Don’t let go of her hand!’ came Hep’s unnecessary warning.
Grady grimaced and clenched his teeth until the sound passed beyond the point where pain could be felt. A stillness entered his mind as the voice of Modron sounded inside his head as clearly as Hep ever did.
‘Well done. A few more moments and it will be over. The power that binds the worlds needs to be severed. This might be a little dangerous.’
Grady said nothing but gulped and went wide-eyed as he felt a level of power being drawn through him he did not think was possible. Beneath his feet he felt a surge of energy that started deep within the earth, racing upwards, before bursting through each of the stones. Grady shielded his eyes as the power blasted through the stones and the brightness of the flash burnt its way through his eyelids. He expected any moment to be showered in splintered granite. As the blinding light slowly dimmed, Grady opened his eyes. The circle of stone stood exactly as it had before. The only difference was that the stone spire in front of Modron had shattered and lay in fragments at her feet.
‘It is done,’ said Modron.
‘What’s done?’ said Niamh. ‘We didn’t see anything. All we felt was a little earthquake, and you get those all the time round here! The stone spire was the only thing that was damaged.’
‘You don’t have Grady’s gift, Niamh,’ said Modron, who completely ignored Grady’s smug look when he heard the words. ‘And that little quake was bigger than you can imagine. Even now there are those who will feel it a long way away and will know what has been done. And some will not be happy about it,’ she said ominously while sharing a glance with Brighid. ‘But the portal is now closed. Forever. It is my final gift to you,’ she said quietly.
Niamh and Grady looked confused.
‘What do you mean your final gift?’ said Niamh.
‘She means there is nothing more for her to do here. All things must end.’
Niamh and Grady turned to where the voice came from. At the edge of the circle, the troll king and Hewn appeared and walked towards them.
‘We have one more thing left to do,’ said Hewn, turning to Modron.
‘I know,’ she said.
Niamh and Grady both spoke together as understanding dawned. ‘No!’
‘Yes,’ said Brighid. ‘It is the only way.’
Modron took Niamh and Grady’s hands in hers. ‘My time must end. I still have the power to unite the magic of worlds in a way that few could possibly imagine. But there are those who have strange imaginations. The Morrigan is not the only one who might try to use that power. You know there are others out there like her. And I know you know that Balthasar said there were others too. When I die the power of the circles everywhere, on this world and on others, will be broken.’
‘But that means you will be gone too. For ever.’
‘Yes. And No. You need to remember that we are not like you. I will vanish into the earth. But we are creatures of stone. Someday another king will find a vein of stone unlike others and another Hewn will bring a new Modron into the world. Did you know that is what the name Hewn means? I was brought from the rock by him. He is not my father – the king found me and Hewn brought me into this world. Perhaps I will return. But it will not be in a timescale you will be able to understand. So for now the world will be safer. And your job will be done.’
‘Come,’ said the troll king.
‘Goodbye,’ said Modron calmly. She unslung her pouch from her shoulder and gave it to Niamh. ‘I can’t pass much on but there is magic in here only you can use.’ She turned to Grady and looked sheepish. ‘You already have something by which to remember me.’
Grady smiled. ‘The royal shale?’
Modron nodded.
Niamh looked at the troll, wide-eyed. ‘So it was you that blinded me at the spell casting range!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the troll. ‘But we needed to get your attention and you needed to find your way to us. It all seemed to work out. Don’t be angry at my father for our deception. He is a good man. Goodbye. For no
w.’
The troll bowed solemnly to Niamh and Grady before walking proudly to the troll king.
‘I am ready,’ she said calmly.
‘No!’ yelled Grady urgently. ‘This isn’t right!’
Modron turned and shone a golden smile at Grady. ‘Better to go boldly into the fire of the new world than diminish and fade in this one. My time has passed. And the future is yours.’
The troll king gently placed his arms around his daughter. The embrace looked soulful and gentle at first but a slow pressure began to build. Fractures appeared in the surface of Modron, small at first, but like great mountains being built they slowly created greater and deeper fissures. Fractures went from deep within to eruptions on the surface before finally, and without warning, Modron evaporated in an explosion of crystal dust. The cloud mushroomed upwards before falling like a gentle mineral rain onto the ground inside the circle of stone. Where it fell the ground began to radiate with a glow that spoke of sunshine. Everything outside the circle seemed pale and washed out by comparison.
The troll king turned to Brighid. ‘And now debts are paid.’
‘In blood and stone,’ intoned the phoenix, bowing deeply. The children knew there was some deep meaning to the words to which they were not privy.
Fingal appeared as Brighid stood upright. The pixie flew directly and deliberately at speed towards the king, stopping inches from his face.
‘Your granddaughter made promises on your behalf. Do you intend to keep them?’
The king did not reply immediately. He held the pixie’s stare without flinching until, amazingly, Fingal backed off, though only a little.
‘Definitely a king,’ said the pixie. ‘There’s not many could take that stare for long.’
‘You have a good stare. But you obviously haven’t met the queen. That’s a stare you don’t want to face in a hurry,’ said the king, leaning in close and whispering.
Fingal chuckled under his breath while casting a glance at the queen.
The king returned Fingal’s smile and nodded. ‘I understand you have had promises made to you and you have been of some considerable help,’ he said in a much louder voice. ‘But the princess had no rights to make the bargains she made.’
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