by Laura DeLuca
“It is already over, Ceridwyn!” the rightful queen cried from the altar. “Look to the sky! The time has passed. Your fool games have come to an end!”
Ceridwyn glanced first at her sister, then up toward the moon. Morrigan followed her line of vision and saw Arianrhod was right. High above them, the full moon had vanished. Only the waxing moon was visible through the cavern window. When she realized what had happened, Ceridwyn’s cry resembled the deafening shriek of a banshee. Above them, the stalactites shook and a few loose pieces of rock and crystal sprinkled down onto their heads. Even Tiarn and Hecate paused briefly in their battle as her cry of outrage echoed through the cave.
“Too late!” she bellowed. “We are too late!”
“Serves you right, Mother!” Morrigan almost laughed. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve!”
“You!” Ceridwyn bent down to retrieve the crystal dagger. She took a few steps in Morrigan’s direction. “I should have killed you at birth!”
“Why didn’t you?” Morrigan demanded. “Why bring me into this world when you obviously never cared about me at all?”
“I needed a child of my own line to complete the prophecy. Of course, I never wanted a screaming babe clinging to my skirts. That is why I sent you away. I did not wish to deal with you any more than was absolutely necessary. Oh, I knew I had made a mistake when I allowed that fool Connelly to sire you, but I certainly wasn’t going to risk my beauty to birth yet another unwanted brat.”
Morrigan hung her head, unwilling to let her mother see the grief her words caused her. She didn’t understand why she still craved her love. Until that moment, a part of her wished her mother cared for her, at least in some small way.
“She was no mistake!” Arianrhod told Ceridwyn. “The Goddess knew what She was doing when She created her. She had your daughter inherit both the heart and the wisdom of her father. None of your evil has touched her soul! It is just as it was meant to be!”
“Is that so, Sister?” Ceridwyn asked bitterly. She forgot Morrigan for a moment and moved closer to the crystal altar where Arianrhod was bound. “I have had enough of you and your wisdom. Do not for a moment think you have stopped me from fulfilling the prophecy. You have only delayed the inevitable! I will find another suitable sacrifice from the royal line for the next ceremony. I may still need the girl, but you, Arianrhod, you die tonight!”
Ceridwyn lifted the blade, and again it was aimed at Arianrhod’s heart. The queen did not cry or beg, but held her sister’s gaze bravely in the face of death. Arianrhod was tied down and could do nothing to save herself. Without thinking, Morrigan threw herself between them.
Tiarn whimpered in the distance when he saw she was in danger, but he was too far away to stop her. She heard Arianrhod’s cry of protest, but she held her ground. Morrigan shut her eyes. She cried out as she felt the swish of air and knew Ceridwyn was about to plunge the knife into her chest. Then a loud crack reverberated off the cavern walls.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Morrigan waited for the pain. She waited to see a red stain growing across her white dress and to feel the sticky warm blood start to puddle. When she opened her eyes, she was amazed to see she was still alive. There seemed no way she could have escaped death yet again. It wasn’t until Morrigan touched her chest that she realized what had happened. With hands that were still shaking, she reached into her dress and pulled out the remains of the carved stone raven that had saved her life. She lifted the fragments to her lips and thanked her namesake for coming through for her.
When Morrigan glanced up again, she saw Ceridwyn still standing over her. Her wild eyes were deranged in her outraged fury. She still clutched the hilt of the athame in her hand, but the crystal blade had shattered to pieces at her feet. When she saw what was left of her ritual dagger, she threw the useless tool to the ground. For a moment, even Hecate’s furious howls as Tiarn sunk his teeth into her exposed ankle were drowned out by Ceridwyn’s shrill scream.
With her uninhibited shriek, Ceridwyn’s powers were unleashed. A strong gust of wind sent Morrigan tumbling backward into one of the crystal pillars. The chalices, cakes, and other items were swept up in the gusts. Candles fell and were scattered by the dozen across the cavern floor. The magical flames burned bright despite the battering they received. Morrigan couldn’t say the same for herself. The force of the gale slapped her so hard she could scarcely breathe, and her back ached from the pounding it took against the hard stone. Nevertheless, she knew she had to pull herself to her feet. She hoped Arianrhod might be of some help, but a quick glance in her direction revealed the queen was still desperately trying to escape from the ropes that held her against the altar.
Morrigan struggled to stand as her mother’s winds continued to assault her. Her hair whipped around her face, making it difficult to see. Pieces of rock and crystal debris, sharp as glass, flew at her from every direction, hitting her with such force they cut into her skin, some embedding into the soft flesh. The fallen candles rolled so close they threatened to set her gown ablaze. As she watched the flickering light through a haze of fear and pain, Morrigan was sparked into action.
Seeing the candle flames reminded her of the Guardian element that was her protector. She knew the only way to combat magic was with stronger magic. Morrigan reached down to pick up one of the white candles. She pretended to use her arm to block the next wind driven attack, so her mother wouldn’t see what she was planning. Despite the winds that battered her, she had already turned the tiny flame into a small ball of blue fire. For a brief moment, the wind died down as Ceridwyn took a breath to recharge. Morrigan took advantage of the reprieve. Before Ceridwyn could renew her assault, Morrigan had expanded the flames to the width of her arms. She sent the huge fireball hurtling in her mother’s direction.
Ceridwyn never saw it coming. Her red gown burst into flames. Her prior screams were nothing compared to the cries of pain mingled with indescribable fury. When she tried to extinguish the flames with her breath, it only fueled the blaze which traveled from the silk dress to the long black hair, which had become unraveled in her struggles. Morrigan, who had only intended to startle her mother long enough to try to escape, stared in horror as Ceridwyn screamed and ripped at her burning flesh.
“Ceridwyn! No, you cannot die! Not yet!”
The horrified shriek erupted from Hecate, heard even above Ceridwyn’s agonized wails. Tiarn had the hag pinned down under his large paws, trying to restrain her from coming to Ceridwyn’s aid. Seeing her daughter burning had rekindled Hecate’s own power. With an almost inhuman strength, she threw the gigantic wolf to the side. He barked as he hit the hard ground, but it didn’t slow him down. He was on her instantly, grabbing hold of her already bruised and bitten arm with his sharp fangs. She snarled and snapped right back at him. Her arms and legs were covered in blood and her claw-like nails were barred in defense.
“Infidel, release me! Release me at once! You pollute this sacred ground with your very presence!”
Tiarn could only growl in return. Again he knocked Hecate to the ground, and still Ceridwyn screamed and batted at the flames. Hecate knew she was running out of time. Morrigan saw the desperation in her eyes as she struggled to find a weapon. She couldn’t reach her dagger; she sought anything on the ground that she could use to defend herself. It didn’t take long for her to find something.
“Tiarn!” Morrigan cried. “Look out!”
Her desperate cry did nothing more than distract Tiarn at a critical moment in the conflict. He looked up at her with his gold-rimmed eyes, and she tried to point out the danger, but it was too late. With an evil grin, Hecate plunged a shard of broken crystal into his side. He whimpered once but still didn’t let go of Hecate’s arm until she twisted her foot and kicked him in the face, knocking him unconscious.
“No! Tiarn, no!”
Morrigan tried to run to him, but the fiery form of Ceridwyn blocked her only path. Meanwhile, Hecate was using the one arm that was not blo
odied to call upon her own guardian element. With a wave of her hand, icy water rose from the stream in the corner of the cavern and flew through the air looking almost like a blue phoenix in flight. It swirled and danced as Hecate guided the flow toward Ceridwyn, wrapping her in a cradling blanket of moisture. The magical flames fought for dominance, but Morrigan’s fire couldn’t compete with the quenching element of the water or the wisdom of the crone who wielded it. The flames were extinguished.
All that was left of Ceridwyn’s gown were the black and charred remains that hung in shreds and clung to the burned flesh of her body. Her glorious black hair was gone, except for a few random patches, and even her eyebrows had been cinged away. One half of her face and upper body was horribly burned, yet somehow the other half remained miraculously untouched. Morrigan cried with regret, horrified to see what she had done to her mother. She never intended things to go so far.
Ceridwyn should have been in horrible pain and she shouldn’t have been able to move. Her evil will and her desire for immortality drove her forward when any mortal would have surrendered. She leered at Morrigan as she shuffled toward her.
“You have been a very, very naughty little girl,” Ceridwyn whispered in a hoarse and raspy voice. She backhanded Morrigan so hard her daughter fell to the ground.
“What shall her punishment be?” Hecate asked.
The old woman had finally managed to limp back into the circle of stones. Despite her injuries and her age, she dragged the fallen wolf behind her, leaving him just outside the ring like a discarded carcass. Hecate took her place beside Ceridwyn. They smiled grotesquely, their faces bloody and deformed, as they watched Morrigan quiver under their hard stare. She strained to see past them toward Tiarn, but they made sure to block her view, glorifying in her fear Tiarn was gone for good.
“We cannot kill her yet,” Hecate decided. “We can still perform the ritual on the next moon, after your wounds have healed.”
“True.” Ceridwyn studied Morrigan. Her eyes seemed even colder without her beauty to hide behind. “However, we can make her suffer. We can kill all that she holds dear.”
“Yes.” Hecate nodded her head. “She can watch her true love die and live with the knowledge she is the one to blame. It is amazing how much pain one can tolerate without death coming to make its claim.”
“Indeed,” Ceridwyn agreed. “That is a far worse punishment than death for one who believes herself to be so noble and pure. The lycan shall die in his animal form so they cannot say goodbye.”
“No, oh, please, no!” Morrigan begged. “Mother, please! I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to know that! I swear, I’ll do anything you want me to do. Just please, please let Tiarn go! This isn’t his battle!”
“It became his battle the moment he laid eyes upon you!” Hecate scoffed. “Had I known he was your soul mate, I would never have tricked him into believing he killed that child.”
“Wh . . . what?” Morrigan was instantly alert at the mention of the child whose death tortured Tiarn. “What do you mean? You killed that little boy?”
“Of course it was I who killed that child.”
“But why would you do such a thing?”
“The blood of a child was needed for my youth elixir. I arranged for the lycan to appear guilty, so the villagers would not fear me. I had intended to let him die on the stocks, but then realized he might serve a greater purpose. Do you really think the dog would have the nerve to do such a thing? I don’t believe he has ever killed. He couldn’t even kill me when he had the chance! Pathetic waste of what I had hoped to be a perfectly good watch dog!” Hecate cackled, seemingly amused with her own little jest. “Do you hear that, dog? You sold your soul for nothing! Just as you shall die for nothing!”
Morrigan was sobbing. “How could you do such a thing? To kill an innocent child and let poor Tiarn believe—”
“Silence!” Ceridwyn ordered. “Enough storytelling for one evening! Get on with it, Mother. I must get to the healer so they can restore my beauty! I cannot walk around looking like this for eternity.”
Hecate nodded. “Time to tell your dog goodbye, my dear.”
The crone pulled a dagger from a small leather hilt around her ankle, the one she had been unable to reach during her battle with Tiarn. Morrigan recognized it as the knife that had taken the life of Caedmon. She lifted the sharp point toward the throat of the wolf with a gleeful smile.
“Mother, wait!” Arianrhod cried.
Morrigan had almost forgotten about the queen. She had remained silent for so long, she had assumed she had passed out again. Arianrhod had finally managed to break free of the hemp ropes that had pinned her down. She moved beside Morrigan, shielding her, yet still too far from Tiarn to save him.
Hecate barely spared her daughter a glance before turning back to her work. “I wait for no one! Least of all you!”
She pressed the lingering blade to Tiarn’s throat, but before she could strike the fatal blow, Arianrhod raised her arms to the heavens. The ground under their feet began to tremble. The ceiling above them started to shake. Morrigan heard the sound of rock coming lose and crumbling. She looked up just in time to see one of the large stalactites had snapped free from the roof of the cavern. Hecate screamed when she realized what was happening and tried to shield her face with her hands, but it was too late. The pointed stalactite crashed into Hecate’s wilting chest, impaling her.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“Mother! No!”
Ceridwyn cried out and ran to Hecate’s side while Morrigan and Arianrhod watched the scene with mingled horror and relief. Ceridwyn pounded her fists against Hecate’s chest in a fruitless effort to revive her. When there was no response, she screamed again and yanked at the little hair she had left in frustration. Then she turned to her sister, her face a mask of hatred and unrequited fury.
“She cannot be dead! She cannot die!” Ceridwyn cried. “We were supposed to live forever!”
“Ceridwyn,” Arianrhod’s voice was gentle, “it is over. Hecate is gone. Now please, may we end this nightmare without more bloodshed?”
“Bitch!” Ceridwyn spat. “It was you who killed her! You have killed my mother, and you must pay!”
Arianrhod met her sister’s anger with sad tears. “She was our mother! Do you truly believe I wished for things to turn out this way? Hecate left me no choice! She was about to kill an innocent man. I am sorry for your grief, but you must know I grieve as well! No matter how she wronged me, I loved her every bit as much as you.”
“Grief?” Ceridwyn laughed bitterly as she pulled herself to her feet, leaving the broken body of her mother behind. “Love? Do you honestly believe I cared for that hag any more than I care for this brat?” She gestured to Morrigan, who flinched at the utter detachment she saw in her mother’s face. “I only needed them alive for the prophecy! Now that Hecate is gone, and you have ruined my chances for immortality, I see no reason for any of you to live another day.”
Ceridwyn pursed her lips and again Morrigan found herself being swept up by her ungodly winds. Arianrhod grabbed hold of her arm with one hand and clung to the crystal altar with her other. It wasn’t long before the wind had them both on their knees, struggling to breathe. They could barely move as they were ceaselessly pelted with gust after gust of blustery wind.
Morrigan tried to fight against her mother’s attack. She was desperate to get to Tiarn. She became even more terrified when she saw Ceridwyn had claimed Hecate’s small dagger. Even as she continued her magical barrage, she teased Morrigan by running the tip of the blade over the lycan’s thick pelt of fur. Ceridwyn knew he wasn’t a threat anymore, and it was more fun for her to torture and play with him than to just kill him swiftly. Every few inches, she would prick his skin with the blade. She obviously enjoyed Morrigan’s agony just as much as she enjoyed the torture itself.
Morrigan flinched and cried out every time she saw the blood well from Tiarn’s many wounds. She felt the pain as though it was her own f
lesh. She wondered just how much he could handle before it became too much and she lost him forever. The constant fear weakened her and drained her powers. She tried to escape the wrath of the wind, but each time she took one step forward her mother would use her control over her element to push her back even further into the darkness of the cavern. Morrigan attempted to use her own abilities to call up a flame, but the torrent of wind combated her weakened efforts, and Ceridwyn had been sure to blow all the remaining candles out of her reach.
“Please, can’t you do something?” she begged Arianrhod. “She’s going to kill him!”
“The room is not very stable.” The queen had to scream to be heard over the gusty torrent. “If I attempt to move the earth again, I fear the whole cavern may collapse and crush us all.”
That almost seemed like a better option than letting Ceridwyn have her way with them. Her mother was unrelenting. She continued to poke and jab at Tiarn, and the force of the wind she controlled made it difficult for Morrigan to catch her breath. She was fairing much better than Arianrhod. The queen was getting weaker as each moment passed, and before long she slumped over, nearing unconsciousness again. It wasn’t surprising considering she had suffered from a head wound on top of being drugged. If they were going to escape, she was their only hope. The first step was getting her mother away from the defenseless lycan before the damage done was irreparable.
“Do you really want to waste your time with him?” Morrigan shouted to be heard over the blaring wind. “I’m the reason this all went so wrong. I set Arianrhod free. I betrayed you. Why don’t you come after me with your little knife? Are you are afraid I might be stronger than you, Mother?”
Morrigan was lucky. Her mother’s pride was her only real weakness. As soon as she issued the challenge, the winds instantly ceased. Ceridwyn stood with her posture regal despite her many wounds. She even made an effort to straighten what was left of her hair and adjust the shreds of her gown.
