by Laura DeLuca
“Morrigan, I don’t have much time.”
Fighting back the sudden wave of panic that threatened to consume her, Morrigan used the back of her hand to wipe away the moisture from the mirror. At first, between the glare of the lights and the beads of water that stubbornly clung to the glass, she thought she saw only her own blurry reflection. Even before she noticed the lines around the eyes and the strange and unfamiliar clothes of the mirror image, the lips on the face began to speak, though Morrigan’s own lips remained frozen in shock. She gasped, startled, and took a few steps back.
“Morrigan . . . my daughter.”
One simple word and Morrigan felt an entire range of extremely varied emotions. Fear that it might not be real. That it might be some trick of a neglected mind desperate for attention. Sadness for all the years they had lost that they should have been together. Even anger because her mother hadn’t tried harder to prevent the separation. There were a million questions Morrigan wanted to ask, first and foremost being why. Why after seventeen years had her mother chosen this moment to make her appearance? What did she want from her? The mysterious woman didn’t give her the chance to voice any questions.
“Morrigan,” the reflection whispered, “I must speak quickly. The magic that allows us to communicate between worlds won’t last much longer. Listen to me, Daughter. I sent you to this world to protect you. Now, your aunt has started a war that can only end with you by my side. It is time, Morrigan. It is time for you to come home.”
“Home?” Morrigan echoed. She had never known a place that felt like home and wondered if such a place could really exist. “Where is that? How am I supposed to find you?”
Even before her mother spoke, the answer came to her wordlessly, in a vision of the “Knight of Wands”—her knight, with the long dreadlocks and mischievous smile. Her dark man was on his way, and together they would begin the journey, just as the tarot cards had foretold. A journey, she reminded herself before she got too excited, which would almost definitely end in death.
“I’m sending someone to you,” her mother told her. “A guide—I’ve given him the magic necessary to bring you here. But be careful, Morrigan. Trust no one. You have many enemies, but you hold the greatest power. Trust no one . . . no one . . . no one . . . .”
The final world echoed and reverberated off the high bathroom ceiling over and over, sounding almost like a strange rhythmic chant. The voice continued to whisper in her ear until she felt dizzy and lightheaded. She had to close her eyes for a moment and grab hold of the edge of the sink to keep her unsteady legs from giving way beneath her.
“Morrigan, come on! Other people need to use the facilities!”
Her foster brother’s voice woke Morrigan from her vision. She realized she was standing there, naked and dripping, her towel a long since forgotten lump on the ground. She glanced at her pale reflection in the mirror. All trace of her mother’s visit was gone, but her warning stayed with her. Trust no one, she had said. Morrigan decided she would follow those words of wisdom. When her dark knight arrived, she wouldn’t let her guard down. Just because they had to travel together, didn’t mean they would have to be friends.
Morrigan left for school that morning, telling herself her will was strong, and no one, especially not a man, would break her resolve. No matter what resolutions she made that morning, somehow she knew in her heart that keeping her knight at arm’s length was going to be easier said than done.
Chapter Four
Morrigan expected school to be uneventful. It normally was, outside of the occasional bullying. She didn’t make any effort to pay attention to the lectures. She figured it didn’t matter much anymore. She wouldn’t be around long enough to make it to graduation. In fact, the more she thought about finding her true home, the more unbearable the mundane world of Maryland became.
Morrigan allowed her mind to wander. She chewed absently on the end of her pencil as her thoughts whirled in a million different directions. One minute, she was excited—prepared to face her lifelong destiny. The next, she was terrified, afraid to leave behind all she had ever known. It was in the midst of these frenzied thoughts that she first saw him. Instantly, all her worries and fears vanished. It was as if an angel had miraculously appeared in her moment of turmoil, albeit a scruffy and somewhat rugged looking angel. He was amazing—a walking piece of medieval art. She swore beams of light illuminated him in a strange, unearthly glow. She wasn’t even sure if he was real or just another vision. There were two things she knew with absolute certainty from the first second she saw him. She was recklessly in love with him, and it completely terrified her.
The man was loitering just outside the window, sitting down at one of the picnic tables outside the cafeteria. If he was trying to make it look like he belonged there, he wasn’t doing a very good job. It would have been impossible for him to fit in anywhere, except for a Renaissance fair, and even that would have been a stretch. Luckily, with classes in session, there were no students hanging around outside, though a few cars did slow down to gawk at him as they passed by.
Though the stubble on his chin might have made him appear older, there was a definite youthfulness to his face. He was probably eighteen or nineteen. His hair hung in long, dark dreadlocks, reaching to nearly the center of his back. His pants were fashioned from what looked like raw deer hide, stitched together in mismatched patches. His shirt—if it could even be called a shirt—had no buttons or snaps, and his firm chest met the chill autumn air unflinchingly, perhaps because of the surprisingly thick layer of hair that covered it. And his eyes! His eyes were the most amazing shade of emerald green—so bright that even from the distance, she could see them glittering in the sunlight like gemstones.
All in all, he was hardly the kind of prince charming most young girls spent their nights dreaming of. There was no suit of armor or white horse. But for Morrigan, he was the man of her dreams—literally. She had spent the better part of her life dreaming of this exact man riding to her rescue. He was the dark knight from her sketches and from the tarot reading. The man who had come to save her from the world that shunned her. All her mother’s warnings and her own firm stance to trust no one went completely out the window with that very first glance. She could only hope his intentions were honorable. Because she knew she would follow him to the ends of the earth without question.
Morrigan kept her gaze glued to him until the last possible second. She couldn’t help herself. If he knew she was watching, he gave no indication. He sat quietly, with his face raised to the sky, obviously enjoying the warmth against his skin. When the bell finally rang, announcing her lunch hour had arrived, Morrigan jumped up from her desk and headed for the cafeteria. She skipped the lunch line altogether and bolted straight for the door. But when she flung it open and examined the picnic tables, she found that no one was there. The man seemed to have vanished.
She didn’t believe for a minute that he had been nothing but her imagination. She knew her mystery man had been out there. A sense deeper than any vision told her he still was there—somewhere.
“Come out,” she called. She was proud of the fact her voice revealed none of her wildly whirling emotions. “I know you’re here. I can feel you.”
She heard a soft chuckle, and then he stepped out from behind the shelter of a nearby tree. She was relieved to see he wasn’t glowing anymore. It must have been a trick of the light after all. Even in normal lighting, she still found him strangely breathtaking.
“I should have known it would be impossible to take a witch by surprise.” He took a few steps in her direction and bowed deeply. “Greetings, Mistress Morrigan.”
His voice added a whole new dimension to his rustic, earthy charm. His accent was somehow a cross between Irish and English, yet it was neither one at all. It had a flow and an inflection all its own. Each word was like a note of music. It was unlike anything she had ever heard, and it made Morrigan feel lightheaded. No man had ever had that kind of effect on her before.
She didn’t like it, and she did the best she could to hide it from him.
She was even more concerned when she heard the door creak open behind them. She peeked over her shoulder just in time to see a few other students come out to enjoy the beautiful weather on their lunch break. When they saw Morrigan and the strangely dressed newcomer, they couldn’t help but snicker. Luckily, they were far enough away that no one could overhear them talking. But just in case, Morrigan gestured for him to follow her behind a patch of bushes which blocked them from the view of her nosy classmates.
“Who are you?” Morrigan demanded.
Her voice had lost most of its former strength with the arrival of their audience—something that didn’t go unnoticed by her dark knight, who was completely unaffected by the laughter at his expense. He gave her a cocky smirk before replying in his melodic accent.
“I am Filtiarn, your most humble and obliging servant,” he told her with another exaggerated bow. “But, you, fairest of maidens, may call me Tiarn. Your mother has sent me to bring you back to your home in Tír na NÓg, where she awaits your services most urgently.”
Morrigan narrowed her eyes. The speech seemed a little too rehearsed, a little too phony. Yet, she knew she had no other options. Even if she could get to where she needed to go without him, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be apart from him again, even for a second. The warnings about deceit and betrayal were front and foremost in her mind. She tried not to let her feelings interfere with her common sense.
“Tír na NÓg?” she questioned. “Isn’t that some sort of Irish myth? The land of eternal youth, right? It’s supposed to be a magical place where everyone stays young and happy forever.”
“For sure, it is a magical place,” Tiarn acknowledged. “But you should not believe everything you read in fairy stories, dear Morrigan. At the moment, the country is torn apart by war and could hardly be called a place of eternal happiness. Your mother, Queen Ceridwyn, and your Aunt Arianrhod are vying for the crown. That is the way of it, you know. One good witch and one bad witch do battle, and whoever wins will determine the fate of all the people in Tír na NÓg. At the moment, Arianrhod has the upper hand. Your mother and grandmother have been taken captive, which is why your mother has sent me, a lowly changeling, to bring you to her aide.”
Morrigan had to sit down for a minute and catch her breath. Strangely enough, she didn’t doubt one word of what Tiarn had just told her. His words had the ring of truth to them. Nevertheless, it was a lot of information to have thrown at her all at once, especially after years of knowing nothing about herself. Add to that, the swoony affect that Tiarn had on her, and it made for a very confused and particularly inarticulate Morrigan. Yet, she did manage to stutter out one simple question.
“A queen? My mother is a queen?” It sounded even less likely when she spoke it out loud. “But that would make me . . . a . . . a . . . .”
“A princess?” Tiarn finished the sentence for her. “Yes, Your Majesty. Indeed, you are the one and only princess of Tír na NÓg.”
It was an overwhelming discovery, but Tiarn didn’t seem to take that into consideration. He just kept plunging on, trying to see how much she could handle before she cracked. It was clear to see he was enjoying every minute of her trauma. She had to wonder if he felt even a hint of the overwhelming emotions she had felt for him from the instant she laid her eyes on him. If he did, he certainly wasn’t giving her any telltale signs.
“There is not much time, Your Highness,” he told her and somehow made the title sound almost like an insult. “Your mother’s powers grow weak in the dungeons. If we do not move quickly, we may be too late.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Morrigan announced. She cursed the tremor in her voice that gave away the fact she wasn’t nearly as brave as she was pretending to be. “Let’s go right now.”
He shook his head. “No, not now. Tonight. We shall leave tonight, under the cover of darkness. I will come for you at midnight, the witching hour. Take only what you must. It will be a long, hard journey. You will not want to be hampered down by material possessions.”
“Tonight. Midnight,” Morrigan echoed with an affirmative nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
Despite her former urgency, it seemed terrifyingly soon. All at once, the world which had shunned her seemed like a security blanket—one she wasn’t quite ready to cast aside. Tiarn wasn’t giving her any options. He was already shuffling down the sidewalk and out of sight.
“Wait!” she called. “How will I find you?”
“I’ll find you.” He took a long, deep breath through his flaring nostrils. “I could pick up your scent anywhere.”
Then he was gone. He disappeared around the corner of the building like the mythical creature he claimed to be, leaving Morrigan trembling and breathless in his wake.
Chapter Five
It was eleven-thirty. The sounds of distant snoring echoed through the hallway. Everyone in the house was sound asleep—except Morrigan. As quietly as possible, she pushed back the covers, climbed out of bed, and pulled off her pajamas. Luckily, Lauren slept like a rock, so the creaking of the closet didn’t disturb her. Morrigan retrieved one of her long Bohemian skirts, slipped into the loose-fitting garment, and pulled on her warmest sweater over a spaghetti-strap top.
She stole a pair of Lauren’s black stretchy leggings and tugged them on under the skirt. She had no idea what kind of climate she was heading into, but she figured it was best to dress in layers. She could always remove some of them later if she stumbled into a desert. She completed the ensemble with a sturdy pair of metal tipped, leather boots. The look was hardly what she would call sexy, but she was going on a journey to another world—not on a date. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?
A picture of Tiarn popped unbidden into her mind. Suddenly the bulky sweater seemed stifling as the images of the long-haired man filled her thoughts and warmed her body. She looked up at the drawing on the wall of her dark knight—the man who had haunted her dreams for so many years. The fact he was suddenly a living, breathing reality was a little overwhelming. It shouldn’t have been any stranger than learning she was a princess from another dimension. Yet, somehow she found the mysteriously aloof Filtiarn much more intimidating than anything else she had faced in the last twenty-four hours. She resolved that she would die before she let him know he had such an unraveling effect on her.
“Meooowww?”
The plaintive whine of the cat instantly brought her back to the task at hand. Lauren shifted on her bed as Danu wailed pitifully and looked up at her with longing in her eyes.
“Shhh,” she soothed. “Don’t worry. You’re coming too.”
Danu and Dagda were both winding around her ankles, as usual. She bent down to give them each a loving stroke. She had no intention of leaving them behind to be thrown in some inhumane animal shelter. They had been the only true friends she had ever had. Tiarn had told her to bring only what was necessary. Well, Danu and Dagda were necessary.
Morrigan grabbed her backpack from the floor. The only things she didn’t dump out were her tarot cards, which were wrapped securely in the bottom of the bag, her sketchbook, and a few meager art supplies. She replaced her useless text books with some extra clothes before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and clicking the door shut behind her.
Morrigan had learned the hard way how to move through a house full of sleeping people silently. One of her foster father’s had taught her that particular lesson when she was only five years old after he caught her sneaking outside for a night of star gazing. He would never have managed to hurt her if she had been more skilled in her abilities of telekinesis at the time.
Morrigan snorted lightly at the old memories. They always had a way of creeping out of her subconscious at the most inopportune times. With the cats still at her heels, she pushed the negative thoughts away and crept into the kitchen. This was a night for new beginnings, not a time to dwell on things
that couldn’t be changed. Firm in her resolve, she stuck her head in the pantry and started poking around for supplies. She hadn’t asked what type of traveling arrangements Tiarn had made, but she doubted very much they would be staying at a string of five star hotels. There was no way of telling what kind of food would be available. Morrigan decided to fill her bag with whatever nonperishable items she could find.
It wasn’t as easy a task as she had originally anticipated. After all, there were four teenagers in the house, so groceries moved fairly quickly. She sighed as she rifled through packages and packed up all she could find, which included a bag of beef jerky, some potato chips, a few bottles of water, two cans of soda, and a box of instant soup. On the way toward the back door, she decided to check the bathroom cabinets as well. There she found a medicinal goldmine—aspirin, gauze, rubbing alcohol, and peroxide. She even came across a forgotten bottle of her foster brother’s antibiotics and antibacterial ointment he had never finished after cutting his hand on a rusty fishing hook. The new supplies really weighed her down, but they would come in handy during an emergency.
Her bag was full and her heart was pounding as she slipped quietly out the back door and down the porch steps. She sat down at the bottom of the stairway to wait, wondering how on earth Tiarn was ever going to find her in the maze of suburban homes. Danu and Dagda each laid their heads on one knee, and purred contentedly. They thought it was just another night under the stars. She listened to their contented purr, reached out to scratch their ears, and gave them a half-hearted smile.
“Don’t worry, guys,” she told them, though they were hardly the ones who were doing the worrying. “Everything is going to work out just fine. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”
