Morrigan

by Laura DeLuca

  “I fear no one!” she said through clenched teeth. “Least of all the ungrateful child I had the misfortune to carry within my womb. That is a problem I plan to remedy presently.” She held up Hecate’s jeweled dagger.

  “Go ahead and do it!” Morrigan almost snorted. The little knife hardly seemed like a threat after all she had been through. “Just kill me, Mother! Get it over with! I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid to die. The only thing I’m afraid of is somehow becoming like you! That would be a fate worse than anything you can do to me.”

  Her mother’s face twisted into a hideous scowl. “Is that so? Perhaps we shall test that theory.”

  Ceridwyn inched toward her, each step deliberate and strong despite the fact she looked like a walking corpse. Morrigan was relieved to have taken her attention away from Tiarn, but she had no idea how she was ever going to save herself. From the corner of her eye, she spied the ritual dagger, half hidden amongst the debris that had fallen from the cavern ceiling during the previous round of battles.

  The crystal blade was broken, but somehow the jagged remnants seemed far sharper and more dangerous than it had been when it was whole. It was definitely enough to do some damage if only she could call the athame to her. Morrigan reached out her hand, but she was exhausted and sore. While the knife trembled for a moment, she just couldn’t break it free from the piles of dirt and rock that held it pinned to the ground. Meanwhile, Ceridwyn brusquely kicked her sister aside, as though she were nothing more than a discarded piece of clothing, and loomed over Morrigan. With two quick motions, she sliced through Morrigan’s gown and slashed the skin of her arms. Morrigan never imagined it would hurt so much. Her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to keep from crying out in pain.

  “Is that all you got?” she mumbled when she had recovered from the shock.

  “Oh, I can do this all night!” Ceridwyn leered down at Morrigan, with a ludicrous smile spread across her chafed and bloodied lips. “It is amazing just how much pain a person can tolerate before they finally die. A lesson your father learned well.”

  Morrigan trembled as she saw the silver hilt of the blade clasped in Ceridwyn’s scarred hand move toward her again. It was so small, yet so deadly. Ceridwyn raised the knife above her head. Morrigan saw it coming down again, but just before the blade could touch her skin she looked one last time at Tiarn. If she had to die, she wanted his face to be the last thing she saw before leaving the world.

  To her surprise, his eyes popped open, and she swore that even in his wolf form, his lips curled into the sarcastic smile she had come to love. It took only that one look, and her strength and courage were restored. She didn’t even flinch when her mother cut into her thigh. Instead, she reached out one last time for the crystal dagger. She felt her powers burn and swell within her, until they became an extension of her body, an almost tangible thing. Her mother lashed out to cut her again, aiming at her breasts, but before she could strike, Morrigan used her mental hands to reach for the broken blade. Finally, the athame struggled free from its rocky imprisonment.

  “Time to die, my darling daughter,” Ceridwyn whispered, almost tenderly. “Give Hecate my best.”

  Even as Ceridwyn spoke, the quartz dagger flew across the cavern into Morrigan’s waiting hands. Morrigan blocked the knife with the broken athame. Ceridwyn saw too late what had happened. She made one last effort to win the battle. She threw herself at Morrigan, screaming her rage with the knife still clutched in her hand. Morrigan tried to move out of the way of the attack, but her mother fell on top her, and the jagged crystal blade plunged deep into her mother’s heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Ceridwyn’s eyes widened in shock. Morrigan stared in wonder at the handle of the dagger jutting from her chest. Her mother tried to open her mouth as though to protest its existence, but instead of words, a stream of blood bubbled from her lips and spilled down her chin. She grabbed the handle of the athame in disgust, and though it must have been excruciating, she used the last bit of her strength to pull it free. More blood flowed onto oozing burns and cuts. With a howl of pain and fury, she threw the blade against one of the tall crystals. With a loud clatter, the last of the blade shattered into pieces. She looked down at the gaping wound and laughed humorlessly before collapsing into a heap onto the floor.

  Morrigan gasped in remorse as she watched her mother stumble backward. Against her will, her instincts drove her forward, and she found herself forgetting the others around them. She knelt by her mother’s side and took her hand.

  “Mother?” Morrigan whispered. “Oh, Goddess, please.” She lifted her eyes to the heavens in desperation. “Please don’t let her die.”

  “Y . . . you,” Ceridwyn managed to mutter through a mouthful of blood. “You . . . have killed . . . your own mother.” She didn’t sound angry. If anything, she sounded almost proud.

  “Mother, don’t say that. You aren’t going to die. We can get you help.” She lifted a fragile hand in her own, careful not to touch the burns or cause her any more pain. “The healers will be able to fix this, right?”

  “For once . . . in your wretched life, girl . . . do not be . . . a fool.” Ceridwyn scoffed through a few raspy breaths. She ripped her hand away. “There is . . . no hope for me now. And if by some . . . miracle I survived, I would only spend . . . my life trying to destroy you.”

  “You can’t mean that!” Morrigan wept. “I’m your daughter. You must love me, at least a little.” When Ceridwyn looked away, Morrigan begged. She didn’t even care anymore if she sounded desperate. If her mother was going to die, she didn’t want things to end this way. She didn’t want their last words to each other to be in anger. “No matter what you’ve done or how angry I might be, there is a part of me that still loves you. Please, tell me somewhere in your heart you feel something for me.”

  Ceridwyn gave her a small smile, all the more grotesque because of her cracked and bleeding lips. She lifted one charred hand to Morrigan’s cheek. Morrigan grasped the hand with the longing of a child and sobbed. She needed to have this one last tender moment between them. She needed something good to remember about her mother.

  “Mor . . . Morrigan.” When Ceridwyn to speak, her body shuddered, and she coughed up another mouthful of blood. She was getting weaker, and there was no way Morrigan could deny they were running out of time. “Please, Daughter, come closer.”

  Morrigan leaned over, putting her ear close to Ceridwyn’s lips so she could hear her whispered last words. “Morrigan . . . I . . . I.”

  “Yes, Mother, what is it? I’m listening.”

  “I . . .” Ceridwyn began, and then her teeth snapped shut on the soft flesh of Morrigan’s ear.

  Morrigan screamed out in pain and surprise and inadvertently kicked Ceridwyn as she jerked away. Luckily, Ceridwyn didn’t have enough energy to do too much damage. The skin was scraped and bleeding, but she hadn’t torn the flesh away, as had obviously been her intention. Still, she laughed like a crazed woman at Morrigan’s pathetic attempt at reconciliation. Then, with more strength than Morrigan would have believed possible in her condition, she half dragged herself into sitting position and looked at Morrigan with a deadly serious and completely heartless expression.

  “You mean . . . nothing to me!” Ceridwyn spat.

  Then she fell over for the last time. Just as her tarot cards had predicted, Morrigan’s journey had ended in death.

  The pain that ripped through Morrigan’s heart was almost unbearable. It pulled her down to her knees beside the body of her mother. She laid her head against her mother’s chest. She wished she could hate her. She wanted to be angry, but instead, she felt only insurmountable grief. Morrigan wept in Ceridwyn’s lap like a little girl. Her mother was dead, and Morrigan had killed her. The guilt over what she had done paralyzed her, and she had no idea how long she sobbed and clutched at her mother’s lifeless body, wishing her desperation might somehow reanimate her and bring her back as the mother Morrigan had spen
t her life imagining.

  “Morrigan . . . Morrigan, dear. Please, you must get up.”

  The soft voice threatened to break through Morrigan’s grief, but she wasn’t ready to leave it behind. She refused to open her eyes, refused to let go of her mother’s body, even as gentle hands tried to pry her away.

  “She is gone, darling,” Arianrhod whispered. “There is no more we can for her.”

  “No! No, she can’t be dead. Not my mother. After all these years, this can’t be it! It can’t end this way!” She allowed Arianrhod to wrap her arms around her and sooth her with soft whispers, even though she knew she didn’t deserve it. “I killed her. Oh, God, I killed my own mother!”

  “Hush now,” the queen soothed. “You have done nothing wrong. Ceridwyn’s fate was of her own making. You only delivered the will of the Gods.”

  “But she’s dead.”

  “Yes, and I know your pain is terrible. But, Morrigan, not all is lost. Look.” She forced Morrigan to lift her head from her breast and pointed to the edge of the stone circle where Tiarn was just beginning to stir. “Your love awaits you. He is very much alive, and he needs you now.”

  “Oh, Goddess, Tiarn!” Morrigan instantly leapt to his feet.

  She couldn’t believe she had forgotten him, however briefly. She wiped the tears away from her eyes in disgust. She stepped over Hecate, careful not to touch the already stiffening body, and ran to his side. He was no longer in his wolf form. Somewhere during the final battle with Ceridwyn, he had transformed back into a man. Now he lay on the cavern floor in all his naked perfection. The only mar to the beauty of his bare, sun-kissed chest was the pock-marked wounds Ceridwyn had inflicted and the much scarier gaping wound on his side. There was also a large black-and-blue bruise spreading across his forehead, but despite his injuries, Tiarn was conscious. He tried to struggle to his feet when he saw her approach, but he was still a little unsteady, so Morrigan wrapped her arms around his waist to help stabilize him. If he was embarrassed by her touch against his bare skin, he didn’t show it, though Morrigan blushed despite herself.

  “Morrigan!” he cried and looked her up and down. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” she assured him as he fretted over her small bruises and cuts, though his wounds were far more severe. “Tiarn, what were you thinking coming here? You could’ve been killed! How did you even get in here?”

  “It was not hard to figure out where they would be taking you. Even if I had not guessed their plan . . . .” He leaned down to sniff her hair. “I could follow your scent to the ends of the earth.”

  Morrigan wasn’t about to be distracted by his sensuality, even though her heart gave a little flutter. “What about the guards? How did you get past them?”

  “The majority of the kingdom is loyal to the true queen. The guards saw my approach, but chose to cast a blind eye. I can only assume they knew I meant to free you and the queen. In which case, they would be happy to see me succeed or would pretend they knew no better should I fail.” Morrigan tore a piece of white silk from her gown, and he flinched as she pressed it against his side to try the stop the bleeding. It wasn’t as deep as she had thought, but still troublesome. “I am sorry I did not obey your command to stay away, Princess. But you must know by now I am not very good at taking orders.”

  “Thank goodness for that! But look at you. We need to get your out of this cave. You’re hurt . . . and naked.”

  He laughed. It was a sound that was like music after the horrors of the day. “The wound is far less severe than it appears. I will be fine. Better than fine because, Goddess Morrigan, did you hear Hecate?” His strong voice cracked with emotion. “Did you hear the hag confess? I thought at first I was only dreaming—that it could not be so. Please, Morrigan, tell me it was not just a foolish fancy brought on by my wounds. It is true I did not kill that child?”

  Morrigan nodded. “Yes, Tiarn, it’s true. Hecate killed the little boy herself and let you take the blame.”

  “It was not a dream!” Tiarn closed his eyes, barely able to speak. “The animal within me does not have control. I am not a monster.”

  Morrigan felt a lump rise to her throat when she saw years of grief and guilt melt away from Tiarn’s eyes. All that she loved in him was suddenly magnified as the pain he had guarded so closely was released. She had to clear her throat before she could speak again.

  “For the record, I knew you couldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Tiarn pulled her close and buried his head in her hair. “I am innocent,” he repeated.

  “You are also a hero,” Arianrhod proclaimed.

  Despite the obvious pain it caused him, Tiarn bowed down low as Arianrhod glided toward them, looking amazingly elegant and royal despite her disheveled hair and plain, torn robes. She had given them a few moments of privacy, but Tiarn’s injuries needed tending, and there was a whole court waiting to learn the fate of their kingdom. She brought with her the little cloth that had been on the altar and cast her eyes away until Tiarn was able to cover up at least his lower half.

  “Your Majesty!” Tiarn exclaimed. “Forgive me for breaking the most sacred of laws. I realize no man, least of all a lycan, is worthy to enter these magical caverns. It is taboo, and I will accept whatever punishment you see fit both for this transgression and for my part in helping the dark queen.”

  The strain of bowing was hurting him. Arianrhod noticed right away and took his other arm to help Morrigan support his weight. He looked amazed that she would lay her hands upon a commoner, and she seemed amused by his surprise.

  “Please, Filtiarn, rise. There are some rules that are meant to be broken. And it is I who should bow to you. Without your bravery, Morrigan and I would not have survived this night. Everything has played out just as it was meant to, and you have more than proved your worth. Now, let us find a healer to tend to those wounds.”

  “Wait! What about the guards and mages?” Morrigan reminded her. “How do we get by with Tiarn hurt and our powers already drained?”

  Arianrhod waived her hand in dismissal. “Ceridwyn and Hecate are dead. No one will challenge us now. Trust me, Morrigan, the people will revel in this victory, for it means peace can return to the land. Thanks to you, there will be no more battles, at least not in my lifetime. Now come, let’s leave this nightmare far behind us and begin life anew.”

  Arianrhod took the lead, and Morrigan followed her from the crystal cave. As beautiful as it was, she wasn’t sorry to leave it behind. Despite the added burden of Tiarn leaning heavily against her as they scaled uphill through the underground caverns, the journey seemed much shorter. She couldn’t wait to get cleaned up and get some rest, though she doubted she would be able to leave behind the memories as easily as Arianrhod believed she could.

  “You do realize, Morrigan,” Tiarn announced just as they reached the large wooden doors that guarded the caves, “you have fulfilled a prophecy after all.”

  Morrigan cocked her head. “What prophecy is that?”

  “The prophecy that good shall triumph over evil. Is that not the moral of all the best fairytales?”

  Morrigan rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty corny.”

  Tiarn seemed honestly confused. “What does corn have to do with anything?”

  Morrigan laughed as Arianrhod pushed open the doors and stepped into the view of the waiting guards and nobility. She had to block her eyes against the glare of the early morning light that wafted through the large windows in order to see what has happening. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but Arianrhod was right. As soon as they saw her emerge victorious, the people erupted into thunderous applause. Despite all that had happened, there was hope for a better future. She might have lost her mother, but with Tiarn and Aunt Arianrhod on her side, maybe there was a better future and even a new family already in the making.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Morrigan yawned and pulled herself up out of bed after a well-earned rest. She was happy to find two warm bal
ls of fur curled up beside her, still purring softly in their sleep. She had feared Ceridwyn might have disposed of her pets before the ritual had even begun, but Arianrhod found them safely secured in their cages, hidden within Ceridwyn’s private quarters. Aside from being a little indignant over their captivity, they were no worse for wear and completely oblivious to the trials their mistress had been through without them. Morrigan gave them a pet as she swung her legs over the bed, but they hardly batted an eye. She hoped they could spend the rest of their lives a pair of lazy housecats and would never have to take on their Guardian forms again.

  Morrigan quickly freshened up and slipped into a lovely sky blue gown Arianrhod had brought her, along with a full armoire of beautiful clothing and accessories. As she pulled her thick hair back into a French braid, she was surprised by the reflection that stared back at her in the mirror. Though her cuts and bruises had healed quickly thanks to the magic in her blood, she had changed. A few weeks ago she had been a just a normal teenager, but somewhere along the way, she had left childhood behind. It was the eyes of a woman that stared back at her.

  Two days had passed since the horrors of the crystal cavern, and finally they were going to celebrate their victory—a victory that was still bittersweet for Morrigan. She was glad she had done the right thing and helped to restore Arianrhod to her proper place, but the death of her mother would always haunt her. After the battle, Morrigan tirelessly sat by Tiarn’s side. Thanks to the quick work of the magical healers, there had been no infection, but it was another long bedside vigil. The more time passed, the more distant he became. At first when he shied away from her touch, she thought it was because he was in pain. Yet, his silence had only deepened even as his wounds closed. She hadn’t even seen him since he was officially allowed off bed rest. She was hoping to catch a glimpse of him at the celebratory banquet that Arianrhod was hosting in their honor that evening.