by Laura DeLuca
“If you insist on going, at least do me a favor and take a few of these.”
She shuffled through her bag to find the aspirin and the bottle of her foster brother’s antibiotics. She had tossed them in her bag as an afterthought, but now it seemed more like providence had been on her side. She fumbled to open the containers and handed Tiarn the pills along with a bottle of fresh spring water. It had to be better than the stagnant water sitting in his canteen. He stared at her like she had three heads.
“What I am supposed to do with these pebbles?”
Morrigan would have laughed, but she was too worried. “You swallow them. It’s penicillin. And something to help bring down your fever. It will hopefully stop the infection from getting worse.”
Tiarn snorted. “First leaches and now pebbles. I wonder how these supposed medicine men do not kill all their patrons.”
“I promise you these pills will make you feel better.” Unless he’s allergic, she thought to herself and then pushed the pessimistic thought away. The universe wouldn’t be that cruel. “Please, Tiarn, just trust me and take them. I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you because of me.”
She must have looked more stricken than she realized, because Tiarn took pity on her. “I will eat your magic pebbles if it pleases you,” he whispered. He swallowed the pills and washed them down with the whole bottle of water. “If only to make amends for the way I behaved when you woke me. You do know, Morrigan, that I would never hurt you intentionally.”
“I know that, Tiarn.”
“But,” he insisted, “should you ever find me in that state again, if you see even a hint of the wolf, you must promise me you will run. Run far and run fast, and if you cannot run, do whatever you must to stop me.”
“I don’t believe you’re a monster,” she told him. “No matter what you say, I’m not afraid of you.”
He looked at her sadly. “Oh, but you should be, my innocent, little Morrigan. For my wolf side has killed before, and I live in constant fear it will kill again.”
Chapter Sixteen
They were definitely not moving as quickly as they normally did. Tiarn always set the pace, and Morrigan usually had to jog to keep up with him. That day, he was moving so slowly that, had she known the way, she could have easily pulled ahead. It made her worry so much she almost forgot all about her own sore feet and travel weary body. The steady rain didn’t help to make things any more pleasant. Her heavy cloak kept her reasonably warm, but it weighed her down. She was damp and uncomfortable as she waded through the endless puddles of mud that dotted the forest floor. She could only imagine how Tiarn must have been feeling if she was so miserable. Despite his half confession, she still felt concern for him. If he was trying to shock her, it didn’t work. She knew in her heart he wasn’t a killer. She just wasn’t sure why he would want to make her think he was.
Morrigan trod through an especially deep puddle, and the cats meowed in protest when she splashed them with muddy water for what must have been the hundredth time that day. It seemed like they had been traveling forever, and she was just about to ask Tiarn how much farther they had to go when she heard voices in the distance. Not the gruff voices of the hardened foot soldiers. Instead, she heard the light laughter of children playing, adults chatting, and merchants bantering. Even the steady rain didn’t keep the native folks from going about their business.
“The village is just ahead,” Tiarn announced, confirming her guess. “You shall wait here. I will . . . I will . . . .”
He swayed as he tried to unsuccessfully complete the thought. The little color he had quickly drained from his face, leaving him pale and white lipped. Morrigan ran to his side and caught him around the waist just before his legs gave out on him completely. She wasn’t strong enough to hold him up, but she was able to keep him from a hard fall to the ground. She struggled to pull his half-conscious body to the relative safety of a patch of wild brush and leaned him up against a tree for support. He looked dazed and incoherent. She put her hand to his forehead, and she had no idea how he had made it as far as he had. She had no thermometer, but if she had to venture a guess, she would say his temperature had to be no less than one hundred and three degrees and would have been ever higher if he hadn’t taken the aspirin.
“You’re really burning up,” she fretted. “We have to get you out of this rain. Do you think little village would have an inn or somewhere else where we could spend the night?”
“N-no, Morrigan,” he half mumbled in reply. “You mustn’t let them see you. It is too dangerous.”
“Let who see me?” She thought he might have been babbling again. “How would anyone there know who I am?”
Despite his miserable condition, he gave her a small smile. “Love, you would stand out in this realm no matter what clothing you wore. The way you speak, the way you walk . . . anyone would know you are . . . special. By now, the whole of the kingdom will be searching for the maiden from another world who travels in the company of a werewolf and two Guardians. It is not safe for you to enter the village, especially when I am incapacitated.”
“But, Tiarn, we can’t stay here all night,” she insisted. “And you’re too sick to keep going.”
“I am afraid I cannot deny that fact any longer.” He sighed and leaned his head against the tree. “I will never make it to the castle, Princess. You will have to leave me here and continue your journey on your own. Your quest is too important to jeopardize. It does not matter what happens to me.”
“No! Don’t even say that! I won’t just leave you here to die, Tiarn. I can’t!” Morrigan cried. “It does matter! It matters to me!”
“There is no other way,” he argued. “And not just because I will slow you down. I am losing control, Morrigan. I feel my humanity slipping away. If the wolf takes over . . . .”
“It won’t,” she told him. “And I won’t leave you here. I don’t believe you would hurt me, Tiarn. And I swear, if you give me any grief about this, I’ll turn myself over to the first guard I see.”
“No! You would not do such a foolish thing.” He seemed honestly stricken, and she was glad. It meant she had gotten her point across.
“Of course I would, and I will. You don’t want to test me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can be very stubborn when I want to be. Now, is there an inn in that village? I need a place where I can take care of you properly.”
Tiarn still looked a little shocked. “Yes, but how will you . . . how can we . . . there is no way to escape detection!”
“You don’t give me much credit,” Morrigan huffed. “I’m a lot smarter than I look. You said they would be looking for a maiden. Well, what to do you think about this . . . .”
Morrigan pulled and tugged at the corset strings of her dress, making them as loose as possible. Then she took out an extra pair of stretch pants she had brought. She rolled them into a ball and shoved them underneath her dress. With a little adjusting, she was able to make the perfect sized bulge right in the center of her abdomen. She used the cord to secure it in place. When she was finished, she looked at least four or five months pregnant, which was a little scary when she was only seventeen. She supposed teenage pregnancies were more acceptable in this old-world environment.
“There,” she said. “No more maiden. Not that I think my virginity is anyone’s business . . . but anyway, what do you think?”
Tiarn’s mouth had fallen open. “I think the Mother Goddess herself could be no lovelier.” Then he coughed and grimaced like it pained him to do so. Morrigan knew she had to hurry and get him someplace dry and warm before he caught pneumonia on top of the infection. Otherwise, all the brilliant plans in the world would make no difference.
“Do you have any money?” she asked.
He looked confused and tired. “Money?”
“Ummm . . . coins? Something to trade?” He just stared at her, and she was getting frustrated. “What do you give the inn keeper in exchange for a room and food?”
“Ah!” Finally he understood. “Bronze rings.”
Tiarn reached into his bag and produced a velvet satchel. When he opened the tie a handful of small circlets in a variety of sizes fell into her hand. Some were small enough to fit on her finger while others were much larger. They were made from shiny bronze with intricate designs engraved around the edges. They appeared Celtic in origin, but she didn’t recognize the symbols. She could only assume the larger, fancier ones would be worth more. She grabbed up the whole bag and asked Tiarn a few more basic questions about what to expect before she readied herself to leave.
“Once I pay for the room, I will come back and get you,” she promised him.
Tiarn shook his head. “This is ludicrous. You will certainly be captured. I cannot allow this tomfoolery to continue.”
He made a valiant effort to stand, but he was still too unsteady. Morrigan forced him back to the ground, gently, and laid a cool hand against his burning flesh. Their eyes met for just a moment and lingered, before he turned away. She sighed, but she was getting used to the constant mixed signals and ultimate rejections.
“I don’t recall asking for your permission, and you’re hardly in any condition to stop me anyway,” she told him. She pulled out both his sleeping rolls and covered him up in an attempt to stop his shivers and offer him some protection against the elements until she returned. “And don’t be so pessimistic all the time. I’m not going to get caught.”
She stood, pulled the hood of her cape over her head, and walked to the edge of the forest. She saw the lights of the village flickering in the distance. She looked back one last time at Tiarn, who seemed to be sleeping already, and then she made her way toward the town. It was starting to get dark, so she had taken Tiarn’s only lantern with her along with the bag of bronze rings. The rest of their supplies, she left with Tiarn and the cats, assuming her old friends would guard them well. She hated the thought of leaving him there, cold and alone, but a fire would have attracted just as much attention as her dragging a sick man through the inn. She hoped once she had spoken to the inn keeper, it would be easier to sneak Tiarn in, as opposed to having him half-conscious beside her while she tried to negotiate.
In only a few minutes, she stepped into a village that looked like it was right out of a renaissance fair. Cobblestone roads and straw-covered houses dotted the busy street. Horse-drawn wagons were clip-clopping down the roads or tied to wooden posts. Each little house had shuttered windows, some open and aglow by the light of oil lamps. Through one of those windows she could see a smiling family sitting down to their evening meal. The mother placed a dish on the table in front of her husband, who stopped her to kiss her cheek before she moved on to the children. One of the older brothers tickled his little sister, and she looked up at him adoringly. She realized it was the first normal family she had seen in Tír na NÓg. Until then, it had only been lycans, Gatekeepers, and soldiers. It helped to give her strength to continue, because she was going to help to ensure the smiling faces of that family would never fade due to a war between two feuding witches. She would help put an end to all that. And when it was over, maybe she would have a family just as lovely—maybe even with Tiarn.
Morrigan shook the romantic fancies away, knowing she was just torturing herself. As she moved on, she noticed that mixed in among the modest dwellings was an elaborate temple with marble posts and a life-size statue of a lovely woman in a long gown, her face turned toward the heavens. Though carved from rough stone, it was amazingly lifelike. Offering bowls of fruits and flowers lay on the steps by her feet. She wondered if the temple might be dedicated to her patron Goddess, the Morrigan. The statue reached out a beckoning arm, and Morrigan swore she felt the power of divinity was within reach. It was a loving, gentle sensation, like the embrace of a mother. Under other circumstances, she would have stopped to pay her respects, but she knew the Goddess would understand her haste.
Even in the light drizzle, merchants still lined the busy streets, trying to sell the last of their wares for the evening. They had everything from freshly picked vegetables to mangy animal livestock. No one paid any heed to Morrigan as she slithered by, her face concealed by the thick velvet cloak. They were all too intent on bartering, making it easy for her to blend into the crowd. Just down the road from the marketplace, she found the inn. It was in the center of town and marked by a small, hand-carved sign that read Brigid’s Inn. There were two floors, the bottom being the tavern where food and drink could be purchased. The second story housed maybe five or six rooms at most.
She worried they might be filled up already, but when she opened the door, she saw only a few patrons, mostly farmers sitting along wooden benches and gnawing the meat from the bones of some unfortunate animal. A pair of soiled-looking farmhands looked her over appraisingly, but when their gazes fell on her extended belly, they went back to their meals. Thankfully, there were no soldiers loitering nearby. Morrigan tried to act casually as she approached the plump matron who could only be Brigid. She manned the bar and wore a thick chain of keys around her waist.
No conjunctions. No slang, she reminded herself as she approached the innkeeper. And don’t try to fake an accent. You’ll just sound stupid.
“Hello there, darlin’,” her host said. “May I help you with something?”
“I would like a room for the night, please,” Morrigan said.
The woman smiled, pleasant and jolly. “Well, of course, my dear. I dare say we have several rooms empty. There have not been many travelers in these parts, what with the battle between the sister witches. I am sure we can find you something that will be to your liking. Will you be staying alone then?”
“Oh, no. My husband is tending to the horses. He will be along shortly.”
“A young couple,” she gushed. “Then you will need a room with a larger bed. It will cost you an extra bronze ring, but two will never fit in the smaller rooms comfortably. Judging by the size of your belly, you will need all the space you can get.” She laughed at her own joke, and Morrigan gave her the shy half-smile of a modest mother-to-be. “You must have been married for at least a few moons. When do you expect the wee bairn?”
Morrigan smiled, trying to seem pleasant, though all she wanted to do was get back to Tiarn. “Oh, it will be quite a while yet.”
“Such a strange accent ye have. You must not be from around these parts.”
“I am from the Highlands,” she said. Tiarn had told her that was on the other side of the country and few, if any, of the villagers would have crossed paths with the mountaineers of the Highlands. A strange accent would be more easily accepted. “My husband travelled there and is now bringing me back to his homeland to settle down and raise a family.”
Brigid stopped asking questions after that and just rattled on about how much she was going to love the county over the mountains. She mentioned better farming and healthier animals. The innkeeper was definitely proud of her country. It seemed like forever before she pointed Morrigan to her room and gave her the key. Morrigan thanked her and handed her five various bronze rings, hoping it would be enough. She asked if it was possible to have some food sent up in a few hours. She explained she was too weary from travel to eat in the tavern due to her delicate condition. The woman greedily grabbed up the coins, making Morrigan think maybe she had given her too much, but agreed to bring her some “vittles” as soon as they were settled in. Morrigan excused herself so she could go find her “husband.”
Once she was out of eyesight, she rushed back to the trees where Tiarn was waiting. When she got there, she found him sleeping fitfully beside the tree. He mumbled, groaned, and shivered uncontrollably despite the two sleeping rolls that covered him. Morrigan knelt down and moved the damp strands of hair from his eyes. Once again she checked his temperature. He didn’t feel any cooler, but at least he seemed aware and lucid when he opened his eyes.
“Princess, you have returned and none the worse for wear.”
Morrigan couldn’t
help but feel a little annoyed by how stunned he was. “I told you I could do it.”
“I will never doubt you again,” he whispered and then started to shake so hard it was almost a convulsion. “So cold, Morrigan . . . it is . . . so cold.
“Come on, Tiarn,” she whispered. “I’ll get you warmed up in no time.”
He had obviously gotten much worse since she left him. He was coughing more, and his hands shook to the point he couldn’t even pick up his bag. She silently cursed Brigid for babbling so much. Tiarn couldn’t stand on his own, so Morrigan draped her arm around his waist and did her best to guide him along the road. She hoped he would be able to make it at least as far as the tavern before he collapsed completely. She normally would have used her powers to help manage the extra weight, but the last thing she wanted was to alert the hounds of magic to her presence again. Once she had gathered everything they needed, she bent down to scratch each of the cats behind the ears.
“I hate to do this,” she told them. “But you two will have to stay out here for the night.” They cocked their heads and meowed as though they understood. “At least I know now you can take care of yourselves.”
She smiled as they bounded off into the forest. They seemed happy to have found a freedom that had long been denied them back in the suburbs of Maryland where they had lived for so long. Morrigan was left alone to half drag Tiarn through the streets. It didn’t help that she was trying to juggle all their supplies on her own. Twice she almost lost her grip on the bags, and once they came close to falling in a tangled heap to the muddy ground. Luckily, there weren’t as many people out and about in the marketplace, and the few they passed barely glanced in their direction. When she finally reached the door of the inn, the innkeeper saw them right away and came to hold open the door. Morrigan was ready for a barrage of questions, but Brigid only laughed.
“Find the pub down the street, did he?”
