The Hounds of the Morrigan

by Pat O'Shea

  What will she do when she gets to the lakeside? he wondered. He clenched his fist tightly on the pebble. She’s not getting it! Never! I’ve seen what she really is and I’d rather die than let her take it.

  There was a commotion back on the land as the hounds reached the water’s edge where they spilled over the ground, snuffling and whining.

  And then She arrived—the Three-in-One; and she threw herself from the back of the badly-winded and reeking horse, and she was very tall and beautiful and full of anger as she stood at the side of the lake. The horse immediately shied away from her and ran off, although he was so done-in.

  Pidge’s eyes blazed with light. He raised up the hand that held the pebble.

  ‘The lake is bottomless,’ he screamed, ‘I am dropping this pebble in.’

  This threat astounded and infuriated The Mórrígan even further. Pidge’s bold words were ringing in her ears. That this moment now contained the unbelievable possibility of her defeat was the thought that dominated her mind. It beat like a pulse in her head and stung her to action.

  ‘Hold!’ The Mórrígan screeched; and the blood on the stone yearned towards her—and some of its evil came into the little boat. It faltered in its movement.

  Pidge could feel The Mórrígan’s eyes on him. They seemed to burn into his head. Everything went to a dreamlike state.

  The blood on the stone assumed a power over his head. He felt a vibration under the curl of his fingers and his grip was loosening. Against his will his hand began to slowly rise even higher in the air.

  Suddenly, The Mórrígan threw her arm up over her head and cast what looked like a line or a whip, out across the lake. It rose very high and snaked over the water in a long thin streak.

  She had raised her hand against the children.

  Brigit moaned and cowered down, making herself very small in the bottom of the boat.

  Then, fingers and a thumb as fine as wire reached and plucked the pebble from Pidge’s now-feeble grasp.

  The boat stopped moving.

  He was completely overcome by horror and revulsion, as he realized that she had sent her own hand across to them and that she had come so close to him.

  The Mórrígan held the pebble high and shrieked a laugh of triumph at the earth and the sky and at The Dagda.

  It was a terrible moment, full of evil insinuation, and Pidge, cowering now, gave a loud moaning cry for help.

  The cry for help by chance coincided with a movement The Mórrígan made that brought her foot down heavily on Fowler’s paw. In all of his service to her, he had been walked on like all of the hounds, and now, a flashing remembrance that Pidge had once been kind and the fire of the pain inflicted on him by the Mórrígan’s foot, came together in a crazed feeling in his head. He was overcome with a courageous madness and he bit The Mórrígan on the leg.

  In her anger, The Mórrígan screamed a different scream and she dropped the pebble into the lake. It fell right beside the boat, but Pidge and Brigit were beyond having the ability to even think of catching it as it fell. The pebble vanished into deep, deep water that might truly be bottomless.

  Without losing its magical thinness her arm came back at her like a spring, and she smote Fowler and turned him to a small pillar of stone. Her charm bracelet flew from her wrist as she swiped at Fowler and it landed on the earth.

  As soon as the bracelet touched the earth, the Sergeant and his bike, which were the only things clipped on to it that were not truly owned by her, returned to their full size. The Sergeant looked in a bewildered way at The Mórrígan; and what he saw was a beautiful woman, more lovely than any rose. He looked at her without reserve at first, and then he blushed to see her perfection. The truth of his feeling lit his eyes and from his buttonhole he took the yellow rose with the red tips and held it out to her.

  ‘Peace,’ he said; for that was the name of the rose.

  He stood humbly before her, wondering if she would accept his mild offering.

  The Mórrígan received the word as if she were pierced by the stab of a sharp needle-tipped knife and, for a time, she spun away from it screaming.

  Anger swelled up in her even more. She had lost the stone into the pure water and now this creature dared to stand before her, distracting her during the most vital moments in her struggle for the stone and her old power, and saying the one word whose meaning she hated and feared because it threatened her very existence. Her face turned olive-coloured and then white.

  She trembled and went into a spasm and stood in the full horror of her ugliness.

  The Sergeant’s eyes filled briefly with compassion before he lost two-thirds of his strength and his knees buckled. He dropped as a petal drifts from a flower and a leaf floats to the ground; he fell like a gently unwinding bolt of navy blue silk. A fearful sense of loss filled his whole being; and he fainted away into unconsciousness. Nearby, the back wheel of his fallen bicycle spun slowly and to no purpose.

  Without understanding any of it, the children had watched what was happening.

  When they first saw the familiar figure of the Sergeant, a man from their own world, someone they had often seen winking and smiling when on point duty and directing traffic in Galway City—or leaning against a wall having a chat with a friend or two, Pidge had felt greatly comforted. Now the Sergeant was lying on the ground and they didn’t understand why.

  The Mórrígan, however, was not finished, although the pebble was gone. There was still Olc-Glas and his poison and she would have that at least, if nothing else. She would follow Pidge and Brigit forever if need be to get it.

  She again threw a word at the lake to freeze it; but The Dagda’s great invisible hand scooped it up and flung it to the sky, where the sun burned and it sizzled like a spit. Her hand had been lifted against the children. Now The Dagda might raise his hand against her. A blow for a blow.

  At this the waters of the lake murmured against her. They went in angry ripples to the lake shore and formed little eddies there that spoke to the earth in low whispers.

  ‘Listen to us,’ they said. ‘What were the words of the ancient scribe? What did he say? “Man’s flesh is of the earth, his blood of the sea, his face of the sun, his thoughts of the clouds, his breath of the wind, his bones of the stones, his soul of the spirit.” Thus he said, did he not?’

  ‘Yes,’ the earth agreed.

  ‘Is he not my child, your child, the child of the wind and of the fire? Is he not born of us and nurtured by us, as is everything that lives on this bright ball? Of them all, he is our brightest child. In the hope that one day he will truly remember and love us as he once did—give me your strength. As I have drenched and refreshed you when you were parched, give me what is in you that makes trees grow tall; give me that which makes trees strong.’

  And the earth sent a message to the fiery heart of the world that said:

  ‘Thou fire! Give us what is in thee that cracks rocks and bursts mountains that we may rise against her.’

  And the fire and the earth gave their strengths. The water rose up in a glittering sheet and stood as a mountain of light before her. It stood between The Mórrígan and the little boat, and she could not go through it, for its clear purity would do her very great hurt.

  Pidge and Brigit looked at the shining wall and marvelled. They had seen the woman in her hideousness; but the ugliness couldn’t touch Pidge as he was not yet a man. Now all was quiet. The ripples, where the stone had broken into the water, had subsided and everything was calm. The only sounds were those of the little wavelets that wetted the sides of the boat with mild pattings.

  ‘She didn’t get it,’ Brigit said at last.

  ‘No. But we failed just the same,’ Pidge answered, full of weariness.

  In spite of all the help and all we’ve been through, the pebble is gone. And Olc-Glas exists somewhere and we were supposed to destroy him. It’s all been for nothing, he thought sadly.

  He gazed sorrowfully at the water.

  He went b
ack over all their adventures in his mind and he came back again to the knowledge that they had failed.

  Brigit was full of angry wishes.

  And then, their attention was taken by a tiny point emerging from the lake’s surface, causing small ripples of its own. It came up a bit more and was blunt and not a point at all and a small face came out of the water and a familiar voice said:

  ‘Who drop dis on me noddle? I cum up to complain.’

  The frog, Puddeneen Whelan, came swimming in close to the boat, clutching the pebble to his front.

  So once again there was great hope and happiness.

  ‘Oh Puddeneen! It’s you!’ Brigit exclaimed.

  ‘It is!’ he agreed. ‘But doan talk to me about weddings and da bride wore broderie anglaise!’

  ‘I thought this part of the lake was bottomless!’ Pidge, light-headed, exclaimed, ignoring Puddeneen’s last remark, and looking at the deep glassiness of the water.

  ‘Bottomless how-are-ye,’ said Puddeneen scornfully. ‘If it wuz bottomless da water would all fall through to da other side of da world.’

  Pidge reached out and took the pebble.

  ‘By da way, I doan sing no more love songs,’ said Puddeneen. ‘Listen!’

  And he swam silently away.

  He was only a small movement in the water close by, when he happened to turn and he saw the wall of water for the first time.

  The children saw his little body rise stiffly out of the lake for one moment of pure horror and then he dived and was gone from sight.

  They had the pebble again now and the boat began to move. Radairc was flying in circles waiting for them to land, crying:

  ‘This way, Pidge! This way, Brigit!’

  The boat took them to land and then drifted away.

  Pidge looked at the soft mud at the water’s edge and saw the tracks of cattle and other animals that had come to drink; and it was a homely sight that gave him comfort. He knew that The Mórrígan was somehow held back by the water and every step was taking them nearer to home. He still had no idea at all of what to do with the pebble, and he didn’t know that The Mórrígan would still try to pursue him with the wish to get Olc-Glas.

  Then they walked into mist again.

  ‘I wonder when we’ll see the first candle?’ Brigit said.

  Radairc came down through the mist and said: ‘Straight on!’; before flying back up again.

  ‘Maybe there won’t be any candles this time. We’ve got Radairc to make sure that we don’t go astray. He knows where we are because he directs us,’ said Pidge.

  It felt wonderful to be in the mist again and the way it filled all the space around them made them feel protected.

  ‘What about Serena?’

  ‘I don’t know. She might only be in charge of the way in and we’re going out now.’

  As they walked on, no candle appeared; and of Serena, there was never a sign. But from time to time, Radairc would suddenly descend through the mist and tell them to go a little to the left or to the right and then he would disappear up into the mist again.

  Pidge was even more sure that everything was now all right and that they were heading for the stones at Shancreg; the gateway that would bring them safely back to their own world and home.

  Suddenly, Serena was there; and they both hugged her and hugged her before walking beside her, each with an arm around her warm, soft neck. They were moving through the gentleness of the mist and all their happiness came back to them.

  Pidge started to daydream about what it would be like seeing Auntie Bina and their father after all this time. He was wondering how he could possibly explain to them about why they had been gone for so long, and most of all—why they had gone away without telling anyone.

  He wondered just how cross they would be because of getting a fright. Grown-up people were always cross if children gave them a fright by going into some danger or other, or being missing when they should be home. He was just arriving at the idea that the Sergeant had been notified of their absence and had somehow come to search for them, when Brigit said:

  ‘Listen!’

  There was something behind them in the mist.

  The mist thickened at once. Serena, moving faster, said: ‘Don’t stop!’ but they had already stopped, letting go of her in their horror, and she had moved on ahead of them before they realized it. They had stopped because they were shocked with fright.

  There was something coming. They could hear sounds, but the sounds were puzzling and didn’t explain themselves. No one could tell where they were coming from, as the heavy mist distorted all noise.

  They could hear Serena calling them, but again the mist had the same confusing effect on their learning and they didn’t know where she was. Pidge took Brigit by the hand and they ran to try to find her. Radairc must have dived through the mist to help them only moments later—they could hear him calling to them as well—but they couldn’t even guess where he was.

  Quite suddenly they realized that the puzzling sounds were coming from behind.

  Chapter 14

  THEY heard the terrible breathing of an animal that was running a desperate race.

  In a fearful instant their legs became nervous, twitching like the legs of foals, and they made half-starts at running themselves, but still not knowing which way to go to find Serena. In the end Pidge gave a sort of tug at Brigit, jerking her along and they were running.

  Pidge threw many glances backwards before he saw out of the corner of his eye, the shape of a dog or a wolf labouring and straining to cover the ground. He knew that the animal would be upon them in seconds and that they would be caught. Holding Brigit’s hand in a grip of iron, he forced his legs to go faster and faster, until it seemed that the main purpose of existence was to cover the ground and eat up miles.

  We’ve just got to make it as far as the stones, we’ll be safe after that, he thought desperately.

  Still the animal gained on them, panting and making terrible noises of exertion. Pointlessly Pidge wondered which of the hounds it would be, which of them would be the one to capture them; for the animal was gaining on them through the energy of its will. Quite sure in his mind that if the animal caught them, it would be all over, he felt a jumping in his throat and tears stood in his eyes.

  Then a voice behind him panted in frightful gasps, saying:

  ‘Don’t slow down. Keep going. The she-warriors are close behind!’

  It was Cooroo! Brave Cooroo. He must have run the whole incredible distance that was the perimeter of Lough Corrib and now he was running beside them. The hot salty tears spilled from Pidge’s eyes.

  Behind them again, further away but getting nearer, was the muffled sound of galloping hooves as the she-warriors rode their horses pitilessly.

  And then, as if that weren’t enough, the air above them was filled with The Mórrígan’s horrible exulting laughter and they knew that she was overhead.

  Pidge felt a stronger vibration under the curl of his fingers and the stone turned and turned in his grasp.

  ‘Keep going!’ Cooroo cried in a voice that sounded as if his chest were tearing.

  New speed came to them. Pidge ran like the wind holding on to Brigit who matched his swiftness.

  The Mórrígan had confronted the water and commanded it to lie at her feet; but the water strengthened by the earth and the fire had had not obeyed. Her anger had been an explosion of power and in her pride she had wasted some moments in conflict with these great things. But they had not given way.

  The Mórrígan, quickly now, reduced herself and diminished to nothing. She went small enough to hide in the centre of an inert speck of dust. The dust was a dead thing and couldn’t feel that she was there and so it could not betray her presence. The wind’s fingers searched for her everywhere and in its searching it touched the dust motes but it couldn’t feel her. From the wind’s touch, the dust flew. It was blown high up over the water and over the lake. In this way, The Mórrígan had defeated the water a
nd now she flew above The Dagda’s mist, searching for Pidge and Brigit.

  Brigit was sobbing and Pidge realized that she was trying to be quiet and suppress the noise of her sobs for fear The Mórrígan would hear and so find them in the mist. And this awareness of Brigit’s fear and of her bravery, of Cooroo’s great efforts, of the way they had seemed to win at the lake and the knowledge that an evil, destructive, fearsomely hideous Goddess and her terrible warriors were hunting them in a blind mist, he felt it was finally and truly beyond him and he must give in. By now the tears were pouring from his eyes.

  The Mórrígan, however, and the she-warriors were not able to hear them through The Dagda’s magic mist. Unfortunately, the sinister hounds could still scent Cooroo and the children in spite of it.

  The ground suddenly went from under the feet of the children and the fox—and they were falling.

  All three screamed.

  Chapter 15

  THEY tumbled and rolled down a smooth slope for what seemed an eternity of fear and confusion.

  When they stopped falling at last, they found themselves on the floor of what looked like a quarry. His eyes blinded with tears, Pidge couldn’t see that it was more like a man-made stone bowl, with sides that were shaped and smooth and bore the marks of tools. Here there was no mist and through their tears they saw that it was an empty place save for a large brass bell and some kind of grid.

  He drew his sleeve across his eyes to wipe away some of the tears and he tried to comfort a terrified and choking Brigit by putting his arm around her.

  They saw that at their feet there was a great pool covered by the enormous circular grid made of metal. The centre was a smaller circle and radiating out from it were spokes. To one side of the grid a great brass bell that was green-stained stood on the ground.