‘These two could do nothing without me,’ roared the witch. ‘I even had to teach this one basic flying skills that her mother should have done. You would have released them into a battle without the wherewithal to defend themselves. Just as you have tonight!’
‘You know nothing about what I can do to defend these children!’ shouted Grace, drawing her wand and casting a hex at the Morrigan.
But the witch was too fast by far. Niamh had never seen a spell cast with such speed or precision. Grace’s own spell was cast aside and rebounded into a tree on the edge of the clearing, causing it to burst into flames. The Morrigan cast another spell that caused the ground to rupture beneath Grace, knocking her down and throwing her wand from her hand. With another flick of her wrist the Morrigan pulled Grace from the ground and slammed her against one of the standing stones with some unseen force leaving her immobile, and helpless.
‘Mum!’ yelled the children in unison. As one they raised their wands and cast their best blasting spell at the Morrigan. As with their mother’s spell, their hexes were easily cast aside.
‘Do something, Azrael!’ shouted Niamh, casting another spell which was equally as easily deflected by the Morrigan.
‘Save your energy,’ said Azrael, not moving. ‘This is not a fight you can win.’
Niamh and Grady were dumbstruck. Niamh breathed deeply and tried to slow her thoughts. ‘Persephone! Where are you? I need you!’
The only response to Niamh’s appeal was a distant laugh that drifted away like fog in a breeze. There was to be no help from their ethereal friends at this moment.
Grady saw the despairing look in his sister’s eyes. He lowered his wand and moved closer to Niamh until they were standing together – shoulder touching shoulder. ‘On the count of three?’
‘Yes,’ came the shaking reply from Niamh. ‘On three.’
Back in the castle another low door in the wall opened. The grogoch scuttled out from it and burst into the middle of a serious looking meeting between Murdock and Brighid.
‘You look worried. What’s wrong?’ said the phoenix.
The grogoch said nothing – it never did – but ran instead to the walls of books that dominated the end of the room. He looked at the climb above him and placed one foot on the lower shelf before realising he could not climb and take the pot with him. He gave the pot a loving look before placing it reverentially on the floor and then launched himself at the shelves.
‘What in Avalon are you after?’ said Murdock, hands on hips.
The grogoch did not reply but continued to clamber up the shelving, showing more dexterity than it appeared his twiggy fingers and toes could possibly provide. He reached a shelf near the top and worked his way along a row, peering at the names on each book as he passed. Eventually he let out a happy sounding squeak and began to pull one of the tomes from the shelf.
‘You’ll never get that down,’ said Brighid. ‘Let me help.’
But the grogoch had no intention of waiting. With a grunt he heaved the book into the air and then threw himself from the shelf. As the book traced an arc through the air towards the floor the grogoch fell heavily, but managed to land in exactly the right spot to catch the book. A librarian faerie appeared, complete with pink cardigan and glasses and began to berate the little creature. But the grogoch was in no mood to listen to any babbling faeries today. With a flick of the book the faerie was swatted away and landed in a heap at Murdock’s feet.
‘Hey! That’s not nice!’ said Murdock as he picked the stunned faerie up. He blew gently across the creature which suddenly revived. It adjusted its glasses and scowled at the grogoch, which was hastily turning pages, looking for something.
With a squeal the grogoch ripped a page from the book which caused the faerie to howl in outrage and swoon in Murdock’s hand. The grogoch took no notice of the theatrics but scuttled across the floor to Murdock and Brighid. He grabbed Murdock’s hand and began to pull him to the door.
‘I think he wants us to follow him,’ said Murdock, gently placing the faerie on the table.
The grogoch gave a little jump of delight as the trio ran through the door which slammed shut behind them.
The librarian sat up, disgruntled that the room was empty and that there was no more attention to be had. The door burst open again as the grogoch scuttled back for his pot. The librarian swooned once more but the grogoch scampered out without paying the faerie any attention. As the door closed the librarian sat up again with an angry squeak. With a huff she vanished in a flash of light, and a foul humour.
In the corridor, the grogoch beckoned to Murdock and Brighid.
‘Where are you off to?’ said Murdock, looking confused.
The grogoch scuttled off at full speed. Murdock ran lightly behind while Brighid simply shrank herself to a comfortable size for flying through the corridors. In no time at all they found themselves bursting through the door of the long room.
‘What do you …’ Murdock began to say. But his words faltered as he saw the hanging threads left by the handiwork of the pixies. ‘How did this happen?’ was all he managed to say before the grogoch thrust the picture he had torn from the book into the elf’s hands and ran to the window pointing in the direction of Morrigan’s Daughter.
Murdock looked at the picture for a few moments before his face went white. ‘Surely not?’ he said, showing the picture to Brighid, who perched on the edge of a chair.
The picture showed the scene from the legend of the twelve wizards defeated by the Morrigan and their banishment under the spell of the witch. Brighid gazed at the picture as the grogoch bounced from foot to foot wringing its hands.
‘They wouldn’t have, would they?’ said Brighid to Murdock.
‘Grace would have told us if she was planning something like that,’ Murdock said incredulously.
Merritt raced into the room clutching a note. ‘We need to get to the lake,’ he said breathlessly.
‘I know that,’ said Murdock calmly. ‘But what do you know that we don’t?’
‘Grace. I think she’s lost her mind,’ he said, waving the note. ‘She’s trying to take on the Morrigan. By herself!’
‘Go,’ said Brighid, springing from her perch. ‘Get everyone. I will meet you there!’ With a crack of her wings she flew out the window towards the now darkening mountains surrounding Morrigan’s Daughter.
Chapter 25
Blood and Ashes
‘One …’
Niamh’s heart pounded as she slowly counted. The Morrigan stepped lightly towards them while their mother remained pinned to the stone by the witch’s spell.
‘Two …’
‘Make it count,’ whispered Grady nervously.
‘Three.’
Together the children quickly unleashed a powerful blasting spell. But the Morrigan was faster. Their spell hit a shield of Air and Earth raised by the Morrigan with a flick of her wrist. Red and blue lines of fire flew skyward, casting an actinic light across the clearing before winking out. The force of the combined spells threw the Morrigan to the ground, winded but unharmed.
‘Again!’ yelled Niamh, grabbing Grady’s hand. But before they could unleash another spell the Morrigan sprang catlike to her feet.
‘Do that again and your mother dies!’ bellowed the witch. A thin tendril snaked lightning-fast from the tip of her wand and wrapped itself around Grace’s neck. The sickly green noose hung in a menacing manner, writhing as if waiting to strike.
‘You would do well to listen to her,’ said Azrael, walking to where the children stood with their wands still outstretched. ‘She will carry out her threat. Life means a lot less to her than you might think.’
Niamh lowered her wand and glowered at him. ‘Why did you bring us here tonight? We can’t beat her and you won’t even try! You could have helped!’
Azrael looked sad and distant at Niamh’s accusations but he rallied. With his back to the Morrigan he smiled. ‘Family can be our greatest weakness. But also a deep s
ource of strength, even when they appear to be weak.’
Niamh looked completely puzzled and became even more so as the wizard silently mouthed the words “Trust Me”.
Grady’s mind raced as he looked from the wizard to his mother, and back to the Morrigan. ‘What do you want from us?’ he said stroppily to the witch.
‘What do I want from you?’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘What makes you think I want anything?’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Grady cockily. ‘Perhaps it’s the fact you have our mother pinned against a rock with a killing noose round her neck. That’s a bit of a giveaway really.’
The Morrigan threw back her head and laughed. ‘You’re right of course,’ she said, flicking her wrist and making the noose disappear. Grace flinched and gave a sigh of relief as the spell winked out from around her neck. ‘But remember, I AM faster than you and I can have that spell back there in an instant. And there are many more spells which will kill your mother in a heartbeat. I am curious, though. Why did you bring her tonight?’
The children looked to the wizard. Azrael turned to face the witch but still did not draw his wand. ‘I told them to bring her.’
‘You?’ said the Morrigan, looking confused. She languidly stepped towards Azrael, stopping only a few paces from him. ‘Why? You could have brought her here many times before.’
‘There was only ever one chance of bringing us all together though, wasn’t there? Of bringing … blood together,’ Azrael said with a chilling tone.
‘Of course,’ said the Morrigan quietly. ‘That’s the only way she could pass through the wards around the circle tonight. Blood of the children, blood of the parents.’
Azrael smiled. ‘Yes. Though perhaps not quite in the way you imagine.’
The Morrigan sneered. ‘As you wish. Did you think that having her here would stop the children from receiving my gift?’
‘What gift?’ said Niamh.
The Morrigan gave Niamh an imperious stare. ‘I can teach you how to go home. I know you want that.’ She turned her penetrating stare to Grady. ‘I’ve seen it in your eyes.’
‘Avalon’s End,’ whispered Grady.
‘Yes,’ nodded the Morrigan. ‘I can send you home. And we can teach you how to come back whenever you want,’ she said, nodding towards Modron who stood quietly still upon the plinth.
‘That can’t be done,’ said Niamh quietly. ‘Only the elves can do that.’
‘Who told you that?’ said the Morrigan sharply. ‘Your mother? The same one who would not teach you the basic skills you needed? Or Murdock? That conniving little elf that arranged for you to be brought here? Or Belimawr? The same creature that let you face your foes in the vault without half the training you needed? You really do need to think about who is looking after your best interests. I’ve been led to believe you are clever children but your decision-making is sadly lacking at times!’
‘How did you know about what happened in the vault?’ said Niamh.
‘There are many eyes in many places that you do not see,’ said the Morrigan, stalking away towards the stones. ‘But I have only ever helped you build your skills. So ask yourself, who do you trust here right now? I can show you the way home and then your mother can go. I have no need of her here tonight, though obviously Azrael wanted her to hear these words. Why, I cannot imagine, but as none of you are a match for me I can only guess that he must be going soft in his extreme old age.’ The Morrigan spun on her heels and pointed her wand at the children. ‘Do you want to find your way between the worlds for yourself, or leave it to others to lead you by the nose? Choose now!’
The sound of running feet dragged Quinn from the solitude of a book on the bathing habits of lake trolls. He stuck his head out the door and saw guards pounding towards him with broomsticks in hand. He jumped back inside his room to avoid getting trampled in the rush and pulled out his iWand. It flickered blue before Hugh’s face appeared above the tip.
‘What’s going on out there? Everyone’s running round like maniacs.’
‘Not sure,’ said Hugh, slightly out of breath. ‘But if I were you I’d get down to the courtyard quick. Something is happening up at Morrigan’s Daughter.’
Quinn’s eyes went wide. ‘Oh no. They can’t take her on!’
‘Take who on?’ said Hugh, looking confused.
‘Never mind. Round up the others. I’ll see you in the courtyard in a minute.’
Quinn snapped shut the iWand, threw his book into a corner, and pulled his boots on roughly while he muttered to himself. ‘She’ll eat them alive. What are they thinking!’ Grabbing a sweatshirt he bolted for the door and out in the still busy corridor where he ran headfirst into Bree. The two of them fell to the floor in a heap, with Bree on top.
‘Sorry!’ she said, blushing and jumping up. ‘I didn’t see …’ she started to say at exactly the same time as Quinn.
‘Yeah. Ummm. Are you … y’know … umm, hurt, like?’ he managed to stammer.
Bree smiled at Quinn’s discomfort. ‘No, I’m umm like not hurt,’ she said, mocking him with a smile and taking him by the hand. ‘Better hurry. We don’t want to get left behind!’
Quinn tried to return the smile but felt exceedingly goofy as Bree dragged him along the corridor towards the courtyard.
The sky above the open yard was filling with the remainder of the guards that had not been detailed to duty at the festival in town. Bree and Quinn ran towards where their broomsticks were racked and grabbed them as Hugh, Devin, Emily and Tulliah arrived.
‘You’re a bit overdressed, aren’t you?’ said Hugh, pointing at the others.
Tulliah scowled back at Hugh. ‘We were meant to be going into town to the festival. And we’re not overdressed. We just have a better sense of style than you do. I didn’t know Hobo Chic was the fashion choice for the castle hipster this year.’
Hugh looked confused. ‘What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress.’
‘Not if you’re going to a party under a bridge somewhere,’ said Devin, grabbing her broomstick. ‘Anyway, we’re wasting time. Let’s go!’
Deep in the castle stables Iris lay recovering from the wounds inflicted by the Morrigan. McHavering was still applying his noxious looking ointments from underneath his protective armour when a rumble began to emanate from the viper’s throat.
‘Dinnae try that wi me lassie,’ said McHavering, flipping up his visor. ‘This may sting a wee bit but ye’d nae be in half the shape y’are today if it wasnae for this brew.’
Iris gave the dragon master little more than a glance before looking skyward and climbing to her feet. Her talons clicked loudly on the stable floor as she stepped uncertainly from her pen.
‘No you don’t,’ said Roland, advancing towards the dragon with his oddly erratic walk. ‘You’re not going anywhere yet!’
Iris narrowed her eyes and cast a penetrating stare at the stick thin man before snorting a thin blast of fire across the top of his head, leaving a streak of smouldering hair which Roland hastily patted down.
‘You ungrateful beast,’ said Roland, blowing on his hands to cool them. ‘If you think you can walk out of here tonight by yourself you’ve got another thing coming.’
‘Ahhh. I dinnae think she means to go anywhere by herself, Ruffleneck,’ said McHavering, pointing behind him.
‘Oh really?’ said Roland. ‘And I told you not to call me Ruffleneck, you Philistine! Where do you think the creature is…’ The dragon master’s reply fell away as he heard the unmistakeable sound of several pairs of talons on the flagstones. He turned slowly and faced three mountain vipers that stood regarding him with hard eyes. The deadly vapour that marked the start of a lethal flame trailed from their nostrils.
‘Oh,’ squeaked Roland, backing away from the trio. ‘I see.’
Iris stretched her neck and shook herself down, her scales rattling like a set of chimes. With a hesitant step she ambled from her pen towards the waiting dragons, giving Rola
nd a particularly evil eye. She paused in front of him, opened her mouth, and let a thin trail of vapour drift from it.
Roland closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. ‘Think happy thoughts, think happy thoughts …’
Iris reached out towards Roland. A single talon extended with the sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard. Iris leaned in slowly and deliberately to the dragon master. Roland opened his eyes as Iris’s breath drew close. She hesitated and then gently smoothed the still smouldering hair down upon his head. Iris glanced at McHavering and winked before turning back to the waiting trio. Together the dragons bellowed and raced out of the stables. They leapt into the sky the moment they cleared the doors and headed towards the lake in a flurry of beating wings.
McHavering chuckled and walked up to Roland, slapping him on the back. ‘Now that’s a dragon wi a sense of drama. Saddle up, Ruffleneck. They aren’t just oot fer a cruise in the evening sky. There’s trouble ahead of them. Let’s see what we can do tae help.’
Niamh and Grady did their best to stare down the Morrigan but the ancient witch had had more practice at this than they did. As Niamh’s gaze started to waver, she felt a hand upon her shoulder. Azrael stood close behind but his eyes never left the Morrigan.
‘A hard line in the sand makes it difficult for anyone to make a choice. You know better than most that the choices we are compelled to make are never that black and white.’
Grady felt Azrael was using all his charms when the wizard spoke; the voice was immensely comforting. The choices the witch had given them now sounded more than a little unreasonable.
The Morrigan was unmoved by Azrael’s words. She laughed again in a way that made Niamh think sanity and the witch were not well acquainted.
‘Don’t try your voice charms with me,’ she said angrily. ‘They might work on these two but those juvenile tricks are no match for what I am. But I understand what you are saying. If a hard choice is not the right one, then what do you suggest?’
Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone: Book Two of the Nearworld Tales Page 34
