Morrigan

by Laura DeLuca

  “What . . . what’s going on?” Morrigan asked.

  Willow was still at her side, but she had become ghost-like in her appearance. When she spoke, her voice was like church bells fading into the distance. “You have made the right decision, Princess Morrigan. The Goddess is proud.”

  Morrigan was still confused. “The Goddess?”

  “She whom we both serve and whose name you carry,” Willow explained.

  “The Morrigan.” She trembled in awe.

  Willow nodded. “In Her name, we are truly sisters. She knew that in this time of discovery, you would struggle to find your way. Yet, She never lost faith in you. She knew that if tested, you would find the strength inside yourself. It is a strength you have always possessed. You just needed to be reminded. And now, my sister, it is time that I leave you. You must complete your quest on your own.” Already, Willow was starting to back into the waiting swirls of mists from which she came.

  “Wait!” Morrigan called, feeling panicked. “Isn’t there something else? Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?”

  Willow smiled, took her hand one final time, and pressed something hard and cold into her palm. “You do not need me. You have a much greater power guiding you. Just keep this close to your heart, and She will always be with you.”

  In an instant, the faery was gone. Morrigan opened her hand and found the little stone raven. She ran her fingers along its intricate wings, before tucking it safely under her dress, right beside her heart.

  “Goddess Morrigan,” she whispered, “tell me what I need to do.”

  Morrigan closed her eyes and waited for some kind of divine inspiration. If the Goddess had intended to answer, She didn’t get a chance. Before Morrigan knew what was happening, there was a loud crash and a splinter of wood as something heavy slammed into her door. Morrigan took a deep breath and prepared for the worst.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Morrigan backed into the corner as a large tree trunk came barreling through the door, tearing the carved mahogany to splinters. She covered her eyes as pieces of debris flew through the air and struck her in the face. When it was over and the dust had settled, she stood stunned as her mother rushed across the threshold and threw her arms around her. Hecate, her hound at her feet, and a dozen armed guards watched the scene from the doorway.

  “That is all. Leave us!” Ceridwyn ordered. One-by-one the soldiers bowed out of the room, and Ceridwyn turned back to her daughter. “Morrigan,” she exclaimed, “thank the Gods you are safe! We were banging on the door for hours. When you did not answer, I was beside myself with worry. I did not know what else to do but to call the guards to assist me. I was so distraught; I could not even call up my powers to aid me.”

  Morrigan hardly knew how to react to her mother’s desperate embrace coupled with her barbaric entrance. Even Danu and Dagda seemed confused by the strange combination of violence and warmth, so much that they paused halfway through their transformation. They were stuck somewhere between cats and wild beasts. Each of them had grown to about the size of a bobcat, with fangs and claws at the ready, but they never completed the metamorphosis. With a light nod, Morrigan let them know she had the situation under control. They shrunk back to their normal size, but stayed close. Morrigan raised her arms and, with difficulty, returned her mother’s strangling embrace.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” Morrigan assured her. “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

  “When you did not answer your door, I had feared that traitor of a wolf had spirited you away into the night. Or that perhaps in your misguided grief you had done the unthinkable and harmed yourself.” Ceridwyn fretted.

  Morrigan almost snorted in disgust, but managed to control herself. “No mother, I am not quite as weak as that. But I did realize that I might have been a little hasty with my judgments. I think I understand what you were trying to say before, about things not being as black-and-white as they seem.”

  Ceridwyn released her snake hold and looked Morrigan over from head to toe with a wary eye. “I must admit, Daughter, that while I am happy to see you so cordial, it comes as something of a surprise. Tell me what has happened behind these closed doors in the last few hours that invoked such a change in your feelings toward me.”

  Morrigan was confused by the passing of time; hours had felt like minutes. She could only assume time moved differently in the faery realm. She couldn’t let Ceridwyn know about Willow, so she had to think of an explanation quickly. She hoped she had inherited her mother’s innate ability to weave elaborate tales of deceit.

  “I was meditating out on the balcony,” Morrigan explained. Her voice only quavered a little. “When I am in that state of mind, the outside world fades into the background. I didn’t hear anyone knocking at the door, and I had just come out of it seconds before you arrived.”

  “You should have let me know, dear,” Ceridwyn reprimanded. “I would have had guards posted to protect you while you were in such a vulnerable state.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t really plan it. It just kind of happened.”

  Ceridwyn nodded, appeased by that explanation. Morrigan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She noticed that although Hecate remained silent, she was glaring at her from the doorway. She didn’t seem nearly as convinced of her change of heart.

  “What’s done is done, I suppose,” Ceridwyn conceded. “Now, do you care to share what revelations you discovered on this spiritual journey? What did you see that makes you willing to accept me so readily?”

  Morrigan clasped her hands to stop them from shaking and did her best to ignore Hecate’s cold stare. This was going to be the real test—making her mother believe that she understood her madness when really just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. Luckily, Ceridwyn confused the dampness for tender emotion rather than loathing.

  “In the calm state of trance, I was able to think more clearly. I realized that it’s not my place to judge you. You’re my mother, and Hecate is my grandmother and an ancient. It’s my duty to respect you both and trust in your wisdom. Whatever path you might lead me in, it will be what’s best for me and the kingdom, so that we maintain our place in the royal line.” Morrigan sighed and almost choked on the words she had to say next. “But even more important than rituals and royal duty, you’re my mom. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

  Ceridwyn smiled and pulled Morrigan close once again. “I told Hecate that you would come to your senses if we gave you time. You do, after all, have my blood coursing through your veins. You belong with us, Morrigan. This reunion has always been meant to be. Together, as Maiden, Mother, and Crone, we will forever change the land of Tír na NÓg.”

  “Yes.” Morrigan nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But if you don’t mind, Mother, I would rather talk about all that tomorrow. Right now, I would really like to get some rest. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.”

  “Of course,” Ceridwyn agreed, then looked at the discarded battering ram and broken wood that littered the floor and the bed. “However, this room will never do. Let’s get you moved into another guest room, just until your permanent quarters have been designed.”

  She gestured for Hecate to back up so they could pass. Morrigan tried not to look at the old woman, but she could still feel her grandmother’s stare as Ceridwyn led her to a room which still had the door intact. It was almost an exact duplicate of the chamber they had left behind, with the exception of the maroon curtains and bed linens that took the place of the green. The cats scurried into the room under their feet just as Ceridwyn was about to close the door. Even though they hadn’t been officially invited, they darted into a corner and watched every move her mother made with narrowed eyes. Ceridwyn didn’t even acknowledge their presence as she fluffed pillows and rearranged chairs in her effort to be convincing in the role of a concerned parent.

  “Thank you, Mother.” Morrigan smiled, but she was hoping that her mother would just go and leave her in peace
. “The room is lovely.”

  “You are most welcome, my dear. I will have some food sent up shortly,” Ceridwyn told her. “You can rest for the remainder of the evening. Sleep well, for tomorrow we will complete the ritual and it will take up the whole of your day. Oh, do not look so afraid.” Ceridwyn tried to give her a reassuring smile when Morrigan’s face turned white. “It is a simple tradition. Think of it as a coronation of sorts. Once the ritual is complete, no one, human or witch, will be able to challenge our right to the throne again.”

  Something in the crazed look in Ceridwyn’s eyes as she spoke led Morrigan to believe that the ritual was much more important than she was letting on. She couldn’t believe that she had missed that zealot flare when they first met. Had she really been that starved for affection?

  “It sounds like fun,” Morrigan replied. She had never been a good liar, and Ceridwyn seemed to be picking up on her nervousness. Though she didn’t come right out and say so, her narrowed eyes and her tight-lipped smile revealed her true feelings.

  “Indeed, I am sure it will be . . . fun. Well then, I shall retire for the night as well. We will return for you at first light to begin preparations for the ritual. In the meantime, a guard will be posted at your door. For your protection, of course.”

  “Of course. I appreciate your concern for my safety.” Morrigan forced a smile and wondered why they were even bothering to try to fool each other anymore. “Good night, Mother.”

  “Goodnight, my darling.” There was a light click as Ceridwyn disappeared behind the door.

  Once she heard the patter of her footsteps fade into the distance, Morrigan plopped down onto the bed with a loud sigh. Danu and Dagda jumped up beside her, and she gave them a distracted pat. Her brief moment of bravado back in the fey forest was beginning to seem almost ridiculous. She had no idea how she was going to stop her mother. Ceridwyn herself had said Morrigan was powerful, but she was untrained and completely alone. Maybe if Tiarn—but she couldn’t let herself finish the thought. Tiarn was gone and she didn’t have time to nurse a broken heart. There was only one thing that was working in her favor. She knew she would be safe until the big ritual was over. They wouldn’t be able to complete it without her.

  Morrigan was no closer to finding a solution to her problem when her thoughts were interrupted by a light pounding on her door. She jumped up from the bed quickly before Ceridwyn got nervous and sent another battering ram. Though it was well after midnight, she flung the door open to find a young maid carrying a large tray filled with meat, breads, and fruits. There were also two guards standing silently on either side of the door. It made Morrigan furious to think that she was being treated like a prisoner, just like Arianrhod.

  Just the thought of Arianrhod made her realize the answer to her problem was staring her right in the face. She had to find her aunt. Maybe together, the two of them could somehow overpower Ceridwyn and Hecate. However, convincing Arianrhod that she was on her side was going to be a challenge all in itself, especially after what had happened in the grand hall.

  Morrigan took the tray, thanked the maid, and nodded cordially to the two guards. Then she kicked the door shut with her foot and brought the tray over to the bed where she could think while she ate. There was more food than she could possibly eat on her own. She figured the cats had to be hungry, so she emptied a bowl of berries, tore a few pieces of what looked like lamb meat from the bone, and set it down on the floor. She expected them to run up and scarf it down the same way they did every time she cracked open a can of cat food. Both cats sniffed the bowl once and then turned their noses up in the air.

  Morrigan was perplexed. Her pets hadn’t eaten anything since their last hunt in the woods. She couldn’t imagine why they would turn down anything, let alone a delicacy like fresh meat. They licked their paws nonchalantly and completely ignored the bounty beside them. Morrigan shrugged her shoulders and was about to tear into the food herself, when at least one of the cats finally showed some emotion and sprang into action. With one clean swipe of her paw, Danu knocked the rib she was holding right out of hand. At first she thought they had changed their minds and wanted to get their share of the food after all. But as soon as Morrigan picked up another piece, Danu whacked her hand and sent it flying before it could even touch her lips. She hissed in indignation as though she were annoyed at having to do it twice.

  Finally, the reason for Danu’s strange behavior dawned on her. She felt foolish for not considering it before. The cats weren’t just being finicky. They sensed or maybe smelled something she didn’t. There was something about the food that wasn’t right. Whether it was enchanted or drugged, Morrigan was sure that if she had indulged, she would have been unconscious in seconds. She wouldn’t have doubted something more lethal if not for the fact that her family needed her alive to complete their precious ritual.

  Infuriated all over again, Morrigan was just about to toss the whole tray out the nearest window and into the moat, when she heard one of the guards cough. It gave her an idea. She smoothed out her hair and dress and checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable. Satisfied, she grabbed the tray, threw open the door, and greeted the guards like they were old schoolmates.

  “Hello, boys!” Morrigan gave them her warmest smile and batted her eyes flirtatiously.

  “The queen said you were to stay in your room, Your Majesty,” one of the guards told her.

  He eyed her warily. He was trying his best to sound authoritative, but he flinched as though he were afraid she might strike him or possibly turn him into a toad. While the idea was tempting, Morrigan had a much simpler plan in mind.

  “I know that, silly.” She waved her hand in dismissal, as though it didn’t bother her at all to be trapped in her room under lock and key. “I just thought the two of you might get hungry since you’re going to be stuck out here all night. My mother sent so much food. There’s no way that I can eat it all by myself.”

  She gestured to the full tray, and she could almost see the men salivating as they eyed the plate of gourmet cakes and thick juicy cuts of meat. She doubted the common folk got to eat like that very often.

  “We are not supposed to eat while we are on duty.” The second guard spoke in a surprisingly deep voice considering his young age. Like the maids, he refused to look her in the eye.

  Morrigan waved nonchalantly. “I am giving you permission to take a break. I am the princess, after all.”

  They still looked unsure, but when Morrigan waved a piece of the lamb under their noses, their willpower crumbled. They hardly waited for her to let go of the tray before they were tearing into the food. They didn’t even notice when Morrigan slipped quietly back into her room and shut the door. Only minutes later, the brew had done its job. She heard them snoring even before she cracked open the door to check. They didn’t stir at all, and no one else noticed as she stepped over the sleeping guards and slipped quietly through the castle corridors to find Arianrhod.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Morrigan slunk silently down the corridor, led by the torch lights that lined the walls. There wasn’t a lot of foot traffic this time. It was the wee hours of the morning and most of the castle occupants, including staff and nobility, were probably sleeping. It made her task that much easier. Morrigan almost made it to the dungeon entrance before finally setting eyes on another human being. Just before descending, she passed a few guards, who eyed her warily, but must have been unaware of her confinement. She adopted her mother’s regal stance and walked past them as though they meant nothing, and she had every right to go wherever she pleased. It must have worked because none of them dared to question her, at least not until she reached the soldier who guarded the entrance to the prison.

  “Princess Morrigan.” He acknowledged her station with a curt bow, but didn’t move aside. “I’m sorry, but I have strict orders that no one is to pass beyond this point.”

  Morrigan looked him over and tried to gauge his intelligence lev
el. He was a little older than the men who had guarded her bedroom door, so he might not be as easy to trick. His voice still held that strange, nervous quiver when he addressed her. She decided she had to use that fear to her advantage. She curled her lip and tried one of her mother’s outraged, indignant expressions.

  “You dare to question my presence? Who gives the orders here? Did you forget that I am also a member of the royal family?”

  “But the Queen said that no one—”

  The guard made a valiant attempt to argue, but Morrigan interrupted him with a dismissive wave her hand. “My mother obviously didn’t mean me! In fact, I’m sure she’d agree that no one has more right to spit in that traitor’s face. After all, it was because of Arianrhod that I was denied my birthright all these years.”

  The man still seemed unsure, and Morrigan hoped he couldn’t see how hard her hands were trembling. She wasn’t even sure she could manage to call up her powers after the emotional upheaval of the day. Even if she could muster up the strength, some deeper instinct told her she should avoid magic and stick to using her wits. A supernatural power flare would surely alert her mother to what she was doing.

  “Stand aside and let me pass, peasant!” she demanded. “Trust me; you don’t want to make me angry. My mother’s temper will seem no worse than a child’s tantrum if you force me to make an example of you.”

  “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. Please forgive my ignorance. You have every right to pass if you wish it.”

  With a shaky bow, the guard finally stepped aside. Morrigan walked past him without thanks or acknowledgement, but with the careless disregard of a royal. She couldn’t believe she had pulled it off. She was so nervous that she had to hold onto the mortar walls for support as she walked down the steep stairwell. There were more than a dozen additional guards stationed below, but they must have overheard her argument with their comrade, because they stepped aside without a word. The prisoners were silent but watchful inside their cells. They had already witnessed a display of her powers.