by Laura DeLuca
As soon as the villager was out of sight, Tiarn leapt up and ran to the temple entrance. He strained to push the large doors closed before someone else arrived. There were no latches to lock out intruders, but she supposed it would at least slow someone down if they had to open the massive doors. She wasn’t sure why Tiarn wanted to trap them inside the temple. Even Danu and Dagda had come out and were giving him speculative glances as they licked their paws.
“Tiarn,” she asked, frustrated. “What are you doing? We don’t have time for this.”
“I thought I had explained this before we set out. We are taking a little shortcut to the castle courtesy of your mother and her namesake.”
“Well, I think you have the wrong temple. There is no way out of this place expect for the doors you just closed.”
“A secret shortcut would not be much of a secret were it out it plain view for the whole world to see,” Tiarn told her. He walked toward the cauldron and grunted as he leaned against it. It seemed quite pointless because it was firmly bolted to the ground and definitely wasn’t going anywhere. “I know there is a way to open this blasted thing. I just need to figure it out.”
Morrigan rolled her eyes as she watched him struggle. She was sure he was crazy and that he was going to break the statue, his back, or possibly both. He strained and huffed in his efforts to move the massive fixture. Then, suddenly, his eyes flashed with realization. Instead of trying to move the whole cauldron, he started to fiddle with the top of it, touching each of the animals and birds in turn. Finally he grasped the carving of the man. There was a loud groan as he turned the figure clockwise. The top of the cauldron creaked open. The figure of the man had been the latch that held it closed. Morrigan inched her way over to peer inside the cauldron, which was just large enough for one person to fit through. Far below, she could make out the dim glow of torches lined up along walls of mortar and pestle, and just below them, a glassy black film that must be stagnant water.
“What is it? Where does it go?”
“It is the moat that leads from the castle. It is where the waste is dumped. And according to the directions I received from Hecate, it will lead us directly to the servant chambers of the castle.”
“It’s a sewer?” Morrigan exclaimed. “Oh, no! You can’t actually expect me to jump into that water.”
Tiarn gave her a devilish grin, and she could tell he was enjoying what he must have considered a royal moment. In actuality, it had more to do with growing up in a world where sanitation was the staple of society, even for a foster child who had been shuffled around all her life.
“It is the safest way to the castle,” he told her. “It will lead us to your mother and we will bypass the main entrance and most of the guards. Very few people know of this passageway. It is a secret Hecate has guarded well. I do not think even Arianrhod knows of its existence.”
“But I . . . I mean . . . .” Morrigan couldn’t think of any way out of it. “There’s no other way, is there?”
“I’m afraid not, Princess. It’s a shame you will have to ruin your dress.”
Morrigan huffed and rolled her eyes again. She took off her heavy cloak, which would only weigh her down in the water, and wrapped her sketchbook up inside of it. She hid it in an obscure corner of the room, behind a collection of vases that hadn’t seen fresh flowers in quite some time. She knew the book and her father’s aged letter would never survive this part of the trip. She could only hope she would find them in her hiding place when—or if—she was able to return to the temple. Once her treasures were secure, she came back to Tiarn and gave him a dirty look.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
Tiarn bowed down low. “Ladies first.”
Morrigan swallowed back her inhibitions, closed her eyes, and jumped feet first into Ceridwyn’s Cauldron.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morrigan closed her eyes and held her nose as she plummeted into the murky waters below. The water wasn’t as deep as she expected it would be. Her feet brushed the ground, and once she came up for air, she realized she could stand, and it only came up to just past her chest. There was no fear of drowning, but the thin layer of slime and the stagnant smell of the water left much to be desired. It had been days since she had a chance to take a real bath or wash her hair, but this was hardly a cleansing dip. She tried not to think about the fact she was swimming in other people’s excrement. She tried even harder to ignore the mysterious squishy objects that kept brushing against her hands. She was glad it was too dark to see the true color of the water.
Morrigan had just managed to get the water out of her eyes when she heard Tiarn shout a string of curses that was followed by a guttural growl and a loud hiss. Before she could ask what was going on, a very agitated Danu practically landed on her head, swiftly followed by a blur of golden fur as Dagda landed in the water beside her with a loud splash and angry screech. The two of them gave Morrigan dirty looks and they struggled to doggie paddle. If she wasn’t so miserable herself, she would have laughed. They looked like a pair of giant, half-drowned rats. She was way too uncomfortable to see the humor in the situation. Her gown held a lot of water and really weighed her down, and her heavy metal-tipped boots weren’t helping. Still, she wasn’t about to strip down in the pool of filth and go skinny dipping.
Morrigan struggled to wade through the water to give her pets a reassuring ear scratch, which didn’t seem to appease them very much. A second later, Tiarn dove in, splashing the lot of them in the face with the slimy water. She coughed and gagged when a little of it got up her nose. She glared at him as he floated toward her, and even the cats hissed in furious unison. He was so casual about the whole thing; you’d think he was taking a dip in an indoor swimming pool.
“Watch it, would you?” Morrigan grumbled. She was surprised at how her voice echoed and bounced from the stone walls. It was like they were inside a cave. “This stuff is so gross. How far do we have to go before we get out of here, anyway?”
Tiarn gave her a wicked smile. “Are the accommodations not to your liking, Princess?”
Morrigan rolled her eyes and glanced down at the endless corridor that was only dimly lit by a string of torches. “Not at all. It stinks and I can barely see, but I guess I shouldn’t complain. At least there is some light. How do these torches stay lit anyway? I don’t see anyone around monitoring them.”
He looked baffled. “Does the fire witch really need to ask?”
“Oh, right,” Morrigan replied, feeling foolish. She was still getting used to the idea of magic being the norm. Usually, she was the only one with the freaky powers. “Magic.”
“Yes, of course it is magic. Torches that never cease to burn are just one of the mystical elements of the queen’s castle. Now come, we should move quickly. There may be no guards about, but I’m sure the rats would love to greet us.”
Morrigan shuddered at the thought and dragged her waterlogged frame behind Tiarn. Though the moat had seemed to go on indefinitely, after about half an hour of sludging through mud and slime, they finally came to a bend. The new path led them to a ledge, which was large enough for them crawl up onto. Morrigan wrung out her hair and dress as best she could, but the damp clothes left her shivering and she felt like she was covered in goo. She was relieved to be on dry land.
The cats shook out their coats vigorously in Tiarn’s direction. He took it all in stride as he studied their new surroundings. They appeared to be in another tunnel, and though waterless, it was just as dreary as the one they had left behind. Again, it seemed deserted. There were no guards watching the entrance. No soldiers with swords drawn. It was just an endless passage of ancient chipping mortar that smelled of mildew and disuse and seemed to lead to nowhere.
The walls were damp and gray, and even the magical torches seemed to sputter in protest at being trapped in such a gloomy environment. Tiarn took her hand to lead her, and this time she was certain they would be forever lost in the underground labyrinth. She could se
e clearly to the end of the passage and there were no twists or turns. After a while, she swore she could hear distant voices. At first she thought it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, until Tiarn put a finger to his lips to signal silence. Through the heavy walls, they could just barely make out the sound of a muffled conversation.
“Your sister’s child has eluded us once again, Your Majesty,” she heard a male voice intone. “She has not been seen since she fled the village of the elder Brigid.”
“What news did my trusted advisor have to offer?” The fluid, feminine voice could only belong to Arianrhod. It was strange how, even without laying eyes on her, Morrigan instantly knew her aunt was beautiful.
“No news, Your Majesty. The villagers made no attempts to overpower her once she revealed herself. She fled into the woods of the fey, along with her canine companion.”
“Brigid was right to leave them be. We do not need unnecessary bloodshed. The battle will come to pass as was predicted. There is no changing destiny.” The man made no reply. Eventually Morrigan heard a sigh followed by a dismissal. “Thank you, Caedmon. You may leave me now and return to your post.”
“Yes, Queen Arianrhod.”
They didn’t have to see him to know he had bowed. They heard the large man shuffle away. The sound was followed by the delicate patter of feminine footsteps disappearing into the distance. When it was clear they would hear no more, Tiarn and Morrigan moved on, careful to do so in silence. If they could hear on the other side of the wall, chances were the castle occupants could hear them as well. She could only hope the constant squeaking and squishing of her soggy boots didn’t give them away.
They had not gone far when Morrigan realized her eyes had been deceived in the dim light. The path was not entirely straight. She could feel gravity pulling her down, and she knew they were on some kind of incline, travelling down into the bowels of the castle. It made sense. Isn’t that where they always kept the dungeons—in the deepest and darkest recesses of the fortress?
She wasn’t sure how long they were wandering, but her hair was almost completely dry, even though her clothes remained damp and very uncomfortable. It seemed as though hours had passed when finally they reached the end of the winding passageway. Morrigan assumed they had made a wrong turn. There was nowhere else left to go, and she had no idea how they could ever get back on track.
“We’re here!” Tiarn announced.
Morrigan was confused. “Where? At a dead end?”
Tiarn shook his head. “You must learn to look past the exterior,” he told her. “Remember things are not always what you perceive them to be, especially in a world dominated by magic. This is a lesson that could mean the difference between life and death in the days to come.”
Morrigan huffed, “I know, I know. I’m doing the best I can here, okay? It’s not easy being flung into strange world and being expected to know all the rules.”
“I do not reprimand you, Morrigan. I only wish to keep you safe.”
She sighed. “I know. But sometimes…the whole situation is just frustrating. So what are we doing? Clicking our heels together?”
The pun was completely lost on him. Instead of replying, Tiarn reached out his hand to grasp the last torch in the lineup at the edge of the corridor. They had passed at least a hundred in their travels, but this was the only one that was strangely unlit. Morrigan watched with curiosity and a little anticipation as Tiarn put his ear to the wall. When he was certain he heard no sound, he turned the handle of the torch down toward the floor. With a creak of aged hinges, a secret opening camouflaged within the wall grudgingly opened.
Tiarn pulled his sword from its still soggy sheath and again gestured for her to remain silent and step behind him. Realistically, it probably would make more sense for her to go first, since her powers outweighed his sword. She didn’t want to wound his male pride, especially when she was fairly certain there was no one on the other side of the wall. They gradually inched their way through the passageway, straining to see in the very dim light. As soon as they were all the way through the opening, the door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into complete and total darkness.
Even though she couldn’t see, Morrigan knew the room they were in was small. No matter how far she moved in any direction, she bumped into a wall or some other obstruction. At one point she screamed because she was certain she had grabbed hold of someone’s hair. But there was no answering cry, just a loud clatter as something that sounded like a large stick hit the ground. She and Tiarn stumbled around for a few minutes, trying to find an opening.
Tiarn cursed as he tripped and stumbled over some unknown object, and the cats hissed and clawed his legs when he stepped on one of their tails. Finally, Morrigan sighed in frustration and assumed it couldn’t hurt at this point if she used her powers. She raised a hand, silently called upon her patron element, and instantly a ball of blue fire appeared in her palm. It did not burn her flesh, but it lit up the small room with its bright glow.
It appeared they were in some kind of storage room for cleaning supplies. They found themselves surrounded by feather dusters, scrub brushes, brooms, and mops—one of these items was the hairy thing Morrigan had knocked over. Hecate had said the underground tunnel would lead them to the servant’s chambers. Tiarn was so glad to be able to see again that he didn’t complain about her using magic to achieve it. He was just happy to get his foot out of the bucket it was stuck in.
There were a few other items hanging up she thought might come in handy. There were at least half dozen plain gray frocks of the palace servants, in all different sizes, for both men and women. Morrigan thought if all the servants wore the same uniforms, it would make it much easier for them to blend in. Plus it would be great to get out of her wet clothes. She whispered her plan to Tiarn while lighting a few candles she pulled from a pile of supplies. He crinkled his nose in distaste.
“I am no man’s servant nor would anyone be likely to believe I were,” he said gruffly. “Besides, where would I put my sword?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you where you can put your sword,” she teased and goosed him.
“Is that right, Princess?” He pulled her against him so suddenly it extinguished her magical flame. “Would you take advantage of a simple commoner, right here inside this closet?”
Morrigan kissed him, happy for the reprieve from her fear, even if it were only temporary. She probably would have stayed in the closet for hours if the cats hadn’t meowed their annoyance.
“I would if we had time,” she told him. “But instead, why not just hide the sword under these sheets?”
She tossed him a pile of soiled blankets that were in a stack of waiting laundry. They smelled like stale urine and sweat, but there was no other choice. The scent probably offended Tiarn’s canine senses even more than the average person, but he grudgingly agreed.
“Ugh,” he complained as he bundled up his weapon like a baby, “the things I do for love.”
Once that was taken care of, they both changed by the dim glow of the candlelight. Luckily, no maids came around looking for supplies. As always, Tiarn was a complete gentleman. He kept his back turned and closed his eyes while she slipped out of her filthy blue gown and into the dull gray robes of a servant, even though a part of her wished he could sneak a peek. Unfortunately, she had to keep her damp undergarments on, which was uncomfortable but necessary for modesty’s sake. She was happy to see she hadn’t lost her little raven in their most recent adventure. It was still safely tucked away, right beside her heart. Somehow, she felt the little icon brought her closer to the powerful Goddess who shared her name.
“Even in a servant’s rags you are a vision of beauty.” Tiarn grinned at her when she had the last of the complicated buttons and ties in place. She was really starting to miss zippers and snaps.
“Thanks,” she said. “You look quite dashing yourself.”
It was true. She had never seen Tiarn in anything but animal skins, which was de
finitely sexy in a rugged way. In the full bodied servant’s pants and collared shirt, with his long dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail behind his neck, he looked almost distinguished. He was still sexy, but in a completely different way. Maybe that was just because she was so crazy in love with him, but it made her want to kiss him again. As tempting as it was, she controlled herself.
They were just about to leave the supply closet when Morrigan realized the cats were going to be a problem. Whether they stayed small or morphed into jungle animals, they weren’t going to be a normal addition to the castle corridors. She thought about leaving them behind, but she knew they could mean the difference between victory and defeat in battle. She looked around the small room and finally came up with the perfect idea. Two large buckets were just the right size for Danu and Dagda to squeeze into. They weren’t happy about being confined, but relented to the will of their mistress with just a few offended glares.
“Are you ready, my dear?” Tiarn asked. His voice sounded as shaky as she felt as he reached out to open the door. “This is it, you realize. There is no going back now.”
“Don’t I know it,” Morrigan said. She took a deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
Morrigan’s heart pounded as Tiarn opened up the door. She held her breath as the rusty hinges creaked, afraid the sound would alert the castle guards. When they peeked out the door, the coast was clear. They inched their way out into the larger room that was apparently the servant’s sleeping quarters. There were ten beds lined up with little dressers beside them, each one covered with accessories and knick knacks. Luckily, the work day was in full swing because no one was around. Somewhere far in the distance, she could hear the indistinguishable chatter of people going about their day.
Morrigan struggled with the heavy buckets as they quietly slipped from the sleeping quarters into the main hallway. She had never realized how fat her spoiled housecats had become. She couldn’t pass off the burden to Tiarn. Even if the cats would have tolerated him, he was already having trouble keeping the ends of his sword from jutting out of the pile of sheets. She told herself it only made her farce more convincing because it would appear she was struggling with heavy buckets filled with water and making every effort not to soil the royal carpets.
