The Raven Queen

by Che Golden

  ‘Mac Cumhaill!’ she cried, and the selkie turned to her and smiled. ‘He’s the answer, isn’t he? The other choice.’

  ‘He could be, if you can persuade him to act,’ she said.

  ‘Oh,’ said Maddy, her sudden surge of hope escaping her as fast as air from a burst balloon. She had forgotten how Mac Cumhaill had turned his back on the mortal world, how little he cared about what happened to it and all the people who kept his name alive. He hated the Tuatha, and both worlds could burn for all he cared. This could be tricky.

  ‘Don’t worry, little one,’ said the Selkie. ‘I am sure if anyone can persuade Finn Mac Cumhaill to take up arms again, you can. But first there are others you must win to your side.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Maddy.

  ‘Them,’ said the selkie, raising her arm and pointing at the yellowish mist that was billowing toward them, the ground disappearing beneath its belly as it came. The mist of dreams.

  The selkie turned and began to walk back to the water and to the seals that waited for her.

  Maddy caught her arm as she went past. ‘It won’t let me through,’ she said. ‘It’s full of … things. They hate me.’

  ‘They are not things, child – they are your own kind, and you do not need to be afraid,’ said the selkie. ‘They have a longing for something that I think you know you cannot give. You must talk to them.’

  ‘And say what?’

  The selkie smiled. ‘Do you now know what the Hound knows?’

  ‘The Hounds only knew things other Sighted didn’t because they were the only ones to walk in both worlds, weren’t they?’ said Maddy. The selkie nodded. ‘Then yes, I think I do.’

  ‘Then speak the truth to them,’ said the selkie. ‘They will recognize it. They are still human.’

  ‘Why did you help me?’ Maddy asked.

  ‘You’re meant to be the doom of Tír na nÓg,’ said the selkie, ‘but that does not have to be. I think you can make better choices.’

  ‘What about my cousins and Nero?’ said Maddy. ‘The Morrighan still has them.’

  ‘They will be safe from harm until this battle is over,’ said the selkie. ‘The Morrighan is not a gambler, and she will not throw away any advantage she might have. Your friends are safe for now. If you want to help them, then stay here and do the needful. Do not shirk from your path.’

  The selkie gently untangled herself from Maddy’s grip and walked into the water, where a seal was holding a silver pelt in its mouth. Maddy watched as she bent and took the pelt, throwing it around her shoulders like a cloak. Her human body melted, the shoulders sloping and disappearing, the long brown hair receding, until it was a seal that disappeared beneath the waves.

  Maddy turned away from the sea and took a deep breath. She walked toward the mist as it advanced and stepped inside it. She flinched as it rolled over her and the Shadowlands vanished.

  The mist obscured everything. If Maddy lifted her hand in front of her face right now, she would not be able to see it. She looked down and realized she couldn’t even see her legs. As the mist oozed she wiggled her toes to assure herself her feet were still attached. She fought down panic as voices began to whisper around her, angry voices, voices choked with tears, pleading voices – the amount of misery that swirled around her was overwhelming. Tears began to roll down her face and she clenched her hands into fists at her sides to stop herself from clapping them over her ears.

  ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘STOP!’

  The mist went quiet. The voices stilled and the mist rolled and heaved around her in silent greasy coils.

  ‘I know what you want,’ said Maddy.

  Part of the mist seemed to condense and darken in front of her. A human shape quickly grew an outline and stepped toward her. Features formed on the face, colour began to seep into the body, until a six-year-old girl stood in front of her. Her shoulder-length black–brown hair was tied up in two plaits, finished with a red ribbon. There was a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and her face was broad with a snub nose. Maddy recognized her as the split soul who had attacked her last time she was in the Shadowlands.

  ‘Home,’ said the girl. ‘Take us home.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Maddy.

  The girl looked at her with hatred and then her face began to crumple and she shrieked, a noise that went straight through Maddy’s head and almost dropped her to her knees.

  ‘Stop it!’ said Maddy, her hands over her ears. ‘STOP IT!’

  The girl closed her mouth and stood there glaring at Maddy. Maddy took her hands away from her ears, panting with stress.

  ‘You can’t go back,’ said Maddy. ‘You have all been in here for so long that the people you were separated from have died. You can’t go home because it doesn’t exist any more!’

  The voices in the mist began to wail while the creepy little girl carried on staring.

  ‘But you don’t have to wander in here, lost,’ said Maddy. ‘You still have a purpose, a function. You can do something that will make you feel human again, even if you can never again connect with the soul you were torn from.’

  The mist went quiet. Maddy looked at the little girl. ‘We’re listening,’ she said.

  Maddy took a deep breath and carried on. ‘All this time you have been here, you have felt lost, weak, longing for a way back into the mortal world. But while you cannot go back to the world above, you are not weak. The Tuatha do not walk the Shadowlands because of you. You are pure essences of human emotion, pure pain that was formed when you were splintered apart from your soul, and the Tuatha are terrified of that. They might feed on human emotion, but have you ever wondered why they do not come after you, why the Morrighan does not use you to keep this place alive, why she still depends on the Coranied? You overwhelm them. Now Meabh would use your strength to break into the mortal world and to destroy everything that you ever loved, to lay waste to everything that makes us human. You can stop her.’

  ‘How?’ said the girl.

  ‘Meabh wants to fashion you into a weapon, with me at your head,’ said Maddy. ‘But I think you are numerous enough and strong enough to block the mound as well as open it. You can shore up the defences of the barrier and become an army that would block the Tuatha at every turn. You cannot go home, but you can protect it. You could stop the faeries getting through even at Halloween and make sure that every child in Blarney sleeps safe in their bed. There is honour in living like that, rather than skulking in the Shadowlands, waiting for a Hound to lead you out.’

  Still the mist was silent. Still the creepy little girl kept glaring at Maddy as if she was dreaming of punching her face in.

  Maddy sighed. ‘Whatever you decide, I need to get to Finn Mac Cumhaill,’ she said. ‘Will you let me pass?’

  The girl darkened and faded back into the mist. It swirled for a few moments and then began to pull itself apart, creating a path in front of Maddy’s feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Morrighan had to restrain Niamh from clawing at Meabh’s face in her rage.

  ‘You’ve been hoarding iron?!’ Niamh screamed. ‘Why would you do that, except to use it against your own? How could you stoop so low?’

  As she struggled to get past the Morrighan her husband, Aengus Óg, was forced to step forward and clasp Niamh in his arms, pulling her away before she caused the High Queen offence.

  ‘This won’t be forgotten, Meabh,’ she spat. ‘When we have dealt with Liadan, it will be your turn!’

  ‘Perhaps in future you will be careful who you throw your lot in with when you decide to turn traitor,’ said the Morrighan, while Meabh stood silent and white-faced, her hands clenched at her sides. For once the witch queen was silent – she did not even try to deny Roisin’s accusation. ‘Do not forget what you have done today. Indeed, when Liadan is put down it will not just be Meabh who will be judged. I will have to look long and hard at your fitness to rule and your ability to wield power responsibly.’
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br />   ‘I did what I thought was best for us all, even you, Great Queen,’ pleaded Niamh. ‘I had to take action – you could not be woken.’

  ‘A child’s excuse,’ said the Morrighan. ‘Perhaps it is your husband, who seems to be innocent in all this, and your husband alone, who can be trusted to rule the Summer Court.’

  Niamh gasped as Aengus Óg let go of her and stepped back, putting distance between the two of them. ‘How could you?’ said Niamh, her cornflower-blue eyes welling with tears.

  Aengus Óg shrugged. ‘We must be practical,’ he said. ‘We do not have just ourselves to think about. If I did not have an entire court depending on me, I would stay by your side out of love for you and defend you to the death – you know I would. But alas, a king has other considerations.’

  ‘Traitor!’ Niamh hissed, her beautiful face contorted with rage, her tears forgotten.

  ‘Now you know how it feels,’ said the Morrighan. She gave a whistle and Roisin could hear the beating of wings. A flock of ravens blackened the morning sun outside the solitary window, plunging the tower room into darkness. One peeled away from the flock and landed on the windowsill, its claws scratching at the stone as it turned its head this way and that, fixing the occupants with its beady black eyes. The Morrighan held out her arm.

  ‘Come to me, my pet,’ she said. The raven gave a screech, spread its wings and glided over to land on the Morrighan’s arm, its black claws digging into her velvet robe. The Morrighan gently stroked the shiny feathers of its head. The bird dipped its head under her touch and half closed its eyes as it muttered with contentment. When the Morrighan stopped petting it, it stood up straighter on her arm, shook its head, opened its beak and very clearly croaked the word ‘Mistress’.

  Startled, Roisin looked at Danny, who looked just as surprised as she did. ‘Ah, the memory of me has been handed down to you, little one,’ said the Morrighan, cooing with delight. ‘Your ancestors served me before I went to my great sleep.’ She turned to Roisin. ‘Do you have paper?’

  ‘I think I do,’ said Danny. He shrugged off his rucksack and rummaged in it, pulling out a notebook and pen.

  ‘Hand it to Meabh,’ said the Morrighan.

  Danny shuffled forward, trying to keep his eyes averted from Meabh’s angry eyes, and handed her the paper and pen while pretending to be fascinated by his own feet.

  ‘You are to write instructions, Meabh, and this little one will carry them for us,’ said the Morrighan, stroking the raven’s feathers.

  ‘What would you have me write, Great Queen?’ asked Meabh through stiff lips.

  ‘You will tell your court to bring the iron out of hiding,’ said the Morrighan. ‘Tell them to meet us where the river flows into the Great Forest. Tell your artisans to bring all the crystal and glass that you have also. What do you need them to do with it, clever girl?’ This last question was directed at Roisin.

  ‘They need to start building a casket from the crystal and glass and bind it all around with iron so there is no escape,’ said Roisin. ‘Make it pretty, fit for a queen.’

  ‘You have written it all down, Meabh?’

  ‘I have, my queen.’

  Meabh rolled the paper up into a tiny scroll and handed it to the Morrighan, who placed it in the raven’s gaping beak. ‘Fly to Meabh’s castle, little one, and find her captain.’ She threw up her arm and the raven flew for the window, disappearing into the brilliant blue of the summer sky.

  ‘Now to deal with Liadan once and for all,’ said the Morrighan. ‘I must find the monarchs of Spring – they must be wondering at my manners, leaving them sitting in a room on their own. They will be delighted when they hear how many thrones may soon be vacant.’ As she swept out of the room she called over her shoulder, ‘Wake that wolf up, unless one of you wants to carry him.’

  Danny and Roisin were finally left alone at the back of one of the Tuatha boats as they journeyed in a flotilla back to the devastated forest. Poor Fachtna’s body had been left on the floor of the tower room. Roisin couldn’t bear to leave her like that, like a piece of litter someone had thrown on the floor, so she had slipped off her hoody and covered Fachtna’s face with it, folding the faerie’s hands over her wounded chest.

  They huddled in the back of the boat, Nero at their feet nursing a sore head, while a single soldier kept a wary eye on them. Danny asked Roisin what the plan was.

  ‘It’s a bit more of a hunch than an actual plan,’ said Roisin. ‘But I think it will work.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ said Danny. ‘Please, please, tell me it’s a plan, seeing as all our lives seem to be depending on it.’

  ‘Look, all I know is that Liadan loves her stories; she thinks she’s very clever playing them out,’ said Roisin. ‘Do you remember when we first came here and she set the wolves on us, playing out Little Red Riding Hood?’

  ‘Yeah, I remember,’ said Danny, glaring at Nero. ‘I think I still have the scars.’

  ‘I apologized for that, didn’t I?’ said Nero.

  ‘We influence this place,’ said Roisin. ‘I’ve done it three times now. It’s built on human imagination and it responds to it – that’s the way the magic in here works. So if my imagination is strong enough, I think I can trap Liadan in a story.’

  ‘That’s what we are depending on?’ said Danny. ‘You having a really vivid imagination? No offence, but I don’t have total confidence in this plan.’

  ‘It’s kept us alive so far, and it’s the only chance we have of rescuing Fenris,’ snapped Roisin. ‘So unless either one of you has got a better idea …?’ She looked between the pair of them. ‘No? Thought not, so shut your gobs then.’

  They sat in silence as they left the sea and entered the mouth of the river.

  ‘What about Maddy?’ asked Nero. ‘How are we going to get her out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Roisin miserably. ‘We don’t even know where she is.’

  ‘At least we know she is still alive,’ said Danny.

  ‘For now,’ said Nero.

  A shout went up from the boats at the front of the flotilla and Roisin craned her head to see what the excitement was about. She could feel shimmering waves of heat and the smell of woodsmoke drifting downstream toward her. For a horrible moment, she thought the forest was on fire again. But as the oars pulled them through the water and she could see the bank ahead more clearly, she realized that the Autumn Tuatha had built a massive temporary forge. Now she could clearly hear the sound of hammers striking iron and as the boats pulled close to the river bank she could see the Tuatha craftsmen hard at work, stripped to the waist in the searing heat. They wore huge gloves that stretched almost to their armpits to protect them from the poisonous iron.

  As their boat drew alongside the bank, a Tuatha helped Roisin and Danny out and took them straight to the Morrighan. The Raven Queen had changed her clothes before they had left her isolated castle and now she stood clad head to foot in silver armour and black leather, her chasing silver dragons embroidered on to every surface, her face still veiled. She pointed to the pieces of casket that littered the grass.

  ‘Is this what you had in mind, little one?’ she asked.

  Roisin quickly scanned the pieces. ‘Will it hold together, if it’s being built in such a short space of time?’

  ‘It will hold,’ said the Morrighan. ‘I have the final piece you asked for.’

  She reached inside her black cloak and held out a big, shiny red apple.

  ‘Oh, that’s not for me,’ said Roisin. ‘That’s for you.’

  ‘For me?’ said the Morrighan, her voice loaded with suspicion. ‘What kind of trickery is this?’

  Roisin took a deep breath. ‘I need to tell you a story …’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The mist led Maddy, stumbling and slithering on rocky, barren ground, to the gates of the forbidding castle. Rough-hewn and unadorned, it was very like the Blarney castle. It had the privilege of being inhabited and it stood square and firm, unlike Blarney Cast
le, with its crumbling teeth for battlements and its rotten interior where whole walls had fallen away.

  There were guards, mac Cumhaill’s Fianna, on the walls, their upper faces hidden by helms, long spears in their hands. They wore blue plaid with leather breeches and their arms and necks were ringed with bronze. One of them leaned over to call down to her.

  ‘Is that you back again, Hound?’

  ‘It is,’ said Maddy. ‘I need another favour.’

  ‘Is that right?’ said the guard. ‘The last favour you asked of Finn mac Cumhaill got nearly half of us killed by lightning strikes and angry trees.’

  ‘He got his dog back in the end, didn’t he? But you’ll love this one,’ said Maddy. ‘This time you get a chance to be impaled on the pointy end of a sword in battle. Against Tuatha.’

  The guard thought about it for a bit. ‘We heard the Tuatha were on the move. Is it true the Morrighan is awake?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And is it true you were the one who woke her?’

  ‘It is,’ said Maddy, crossing her fingers behind her back against the lie. The Fianna wouldn’t be impressed by a rambling explanation of who did what.

  The guard gave a low whistle of admiration and his comrades on the wall laughed, their teeth flashing white in bearded faces. ‘You picked a proper fight this time, Hound,’ he said. ‘Fair play to you. That’s worthy of Cú Chulainn himself.’

  ‘So are you going to let me in so I can talk to Finn mac Cumhaill?’

  ‘What, so you can drag us all into a battle that will result in certain death? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Go on, you know you’ll enjoy yourselves.’

  The Fianna roared with laughter on the battlements. ‘I’ll say one thing for you, Hound – you have a fine tongue in your head,’ said the guard as he signalled for the gate to be opened. ‘Mind you don’t cut yourself with it.’

  Maddy squared her shoulders and walked into the stronghold of Finn mac Cumhaill and the Fianna. They were the last mortals left who would ever stand up to the Tuatha. The Sighted adults in Blarney were too frightened, too cowed from all the years they had spent hiding away on Halloween night and then cleaning up the mess afterwards. Finn mac Cumhaill had been the greatest hero Ireland had ever known. True, mac Cumhaill preferred to brood in his fortress rather than fight. But Maddy knew she just had to make him angry enough and then steer him in Meabh’s direction.