The Iron Realm (The Iron Soul Book 1)

by J. M. Briggs

  The hand moved to her hair, brushing fingers through the long strands. Keeping her eyes closed, Morgana tried to make sense of what was going on as memories of the Queen's request and the strange ceremony trickled back to her. An overwhelming sense of fear rushed through her, causing her body to tense before she could control the reaction. The hand in her hair stopped and another hand came up to brush her cheek.

  “Oh my child,” the voice whispered, “Morgana? Can you hear me?”

  Then there was another voice, further away and deeper, a masculine voice which called out, “How is Morgana, Eigyr?”

  Eigyr; the name was familiar and Morgana struggled to understand why, but kept her eyes closed while willing her body to relax. The hand resumed stroking her hair and the other hand slipped down to grasp her hand. Warmth flooded through her body at the gesture and Morgana barely held in a sigh at the skin to skin contact. A thumb traced the back of her hand, rubbing in a motion that was soothing, familiar and alien to Morgana.

  “She is still asleep,” Eigyr answered softly, her voice sounding distressed and tired. “Oh Uthyrn, I wish I knew what happened.”

  Footfalls echoed strangely in the room, sounding muffled compared to the sharp sound of feet against stone that Morgana had grown up with and came closer to her. Another, much larger hand was lowered to her head for a moment before it was removed, leaving a trace of warmth on her forehead.

  “She'll be alright Eigyr,” Uthyrn promised in a gentle tone that rang with affection. “Just be patient.”

  “But what if what the men saw was true? Sídhe Riders were nearby? What if they-”

  “The Sídhe take the children,” Uthyrn interrupted, his tone more forceful and commanding before it eased. “It is possible that they were preparing to take her, I will not deny that, but they left her. They ran out of time before dawn and Morgana is safe at home.”

  It was all Morgana could do not to frown as more of the blackness faded and her senses returned to her. She risked taking in a deep breath only to nearly cough as strange smells assaulted her nose. There was the musty smell of the dirt of the Iron Realm, mixed with a sweeter smell coming from the woman and a distant smell of something that Morgan thought might be food. She could hear the woman stroking her hair humming a soft tune, the man pacing nearby with his feet scuffing the ground and other sounds that were blended together in an unfamiliar mess.

  Moving only the tiniest bit, Morgana tried to get more comfortable on the strange bed and dispel the last of the blackness that was clouding her mind. She remembered the changeling and how they had been bound together. Remembering the pain as their bodies clashed together during the ritual made Morgana's aches intensify. The memory the fiery potion, the screaming of the changeling and her own tears crashed over her. Whimpering, she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled away as the woman Eigyr tried to hold her still.

  Images flashed through her mind, alien and wrong. Smells and tastes that she'd never experienced took on meaning. Words never heard and with meanings that she could not comprehend began to organize themselves neatly in her mind, like one of the queen's scrolls. Too much and too strange. Tears slipped out of her eyes and a sob was ripped from her mouth. Another sob echoed hers, but Morgana did not believe it came from her and tried to roll away from the hands seeking to comfort her.

  “Morgana,” Eigyr cried, her voice breaking through the confusion. “Morgana, my baby!”

  She was crying, Morgana realized, startled by the notion. Had she been struck when she tried to pull away? Morgana did not think that she had lashed out so why was she crying. She stopped moving, but did not open her eyes. Tremors continued to rock her body, but she gripped the fabric beneath her tightly and breathed in the strange scent. Everything here was different, but it was real. Morgana breathed in again and listened to the woman's crying even as she felt her hands rubbing her back through the clothing that the Sídhe had given her.

  The bed she was on shifted as another figure knelt on it. Another pair of hands, Uthyrn's hands, grasped her gently, holding her still, but not holding her captive. Staying still, Morgana kept focusing on the smell and feel of where she was, pushing away the strange images and sounds that were echoing through her mind. The small soft hands of Eigyr ran through her hair, rubbed her neck and gently wiped away the tears on her cheek. Uthyrn's larger hands rubbed circles on her back and ran gently up and down her exposed arm. Despite the confusion, Morgana could not help but relax into the bed as the gentle touches continued, warmer and more comforting than anything she'd felt before.

  Time moved without Morgana having any sense of its passage as she enjoyed the warmth of the embrace. Eigyr's crying softened and faded and Uthyrn's hand vanished, although Morgana thought she might still be hearing him pace nearby. Now that she could think, she could feel the small weight of a bag inside her dress and wondered what Murden might have left with her. Slowly, it became more and more difficult to be still and the rising noise levels around her made it impossible to slip into sleep, no matter how comfortable it. Morgana gathered her thoughts and braced herself for the worst, reminding herself that this was all for the queen. Opening her eyes slightly, Morgana shifted to give the illusion that she was waking.

  “Morgana,” Eigyr's voice gasped with delight and relief.

  Warm hands returned to her face and arms and Morgana found herself carefully being raised to a seated position. She held back her pleasure at the gentle touches, sternly reminding herself of her mission and purpose in the Iron Realm. Morgana opened her eyes fully and focused on the woman next to her, only to softly gasp.

  Staring at the woman, Morgana's mouth hung open in surprise as memories flitted through her mind like leaves on the breeze. The woman, Eigyr, had long dark brown hair like her own and facial features that were so much like the ones Morgana saw in the mirrors of her chambers. A pair of warm brown eyes, moist with tears met her own green ones as a hand reached for her.

  “Morgana?” the woman question. “Are you alright? Were you injured?”

  “Mother,” Morgana breathed as the tentative hand brushed her cheek, the word springing to her lips unbidden. Stray tears gently ran down her cheeks as she drank in the sight of the woman, her heart beating quickly and a tightness in her chest making it difficult to breathe.

  Smiling at her, her mother shifted forward and wrapped both arms tightly around her, cocooning Morgana in warmth. She did not tense back from the touch, surprising herself, but instead relaxed into the warmth of the woman holding her. Long gentle fingers stroked her hair. There were no claw protectors scratching her, no whispers around them about her poison blood and no quick end to the contact. If anything, the woman's arms became tighter around her and her mother began to gently rock her.

  “Eigyr,” Uthyrn called, “Let the girl breathe.”

  The grip around her loosened and Morgana found her lungs quickly taking in a deep breath that she hadn't known she needed. Yet, the arms remained around her and the woman turned slightly, bringing Morgana flush to her side. She could now turn her head to see more of the place she was in.

  It was large room of some kind and circular with a sloping roof of branches and other materials that Morgana did not recognize. The floor was trodden down dirt which she had to still the impulse to wrinkle her nose at and the doorway was covered by thick animal pelts. She was on a primitive bed with a lumpy mattress and coarse fabric underneath her. Aware that she was perhaps observing the room too much, Morgana turned her attention to the tall man, Uthyrn who was watching her.

  Uthyrn was broad shouldered with a thick unruly head of light brown hair worn in a long braid and brown eyes hidden under thick eyebrows. His clothing was crude to Morgana's eyes with a simple woolen tunic and belt over thick legging and leather shoes on his feet. The only thing of note to her was the bronze brooch that fastened the red woolen cloak that hung over his shoulders and the jet beads that hung around his neck and the golden decorations at the end of his long braid. As she looked at him, a str
ange feeling of sorrow welled up in her that she was at a loss to explain.

  “Stay with her,” Uthyrn told Eigyr as he studied Morgana. “She is not acting like herself.”

  “She'd had a fright,” Eigyr replied, brushing a soft kiss to Morgana's cheek. “She'll be alright.”

  “Yes,” Uthyrn answered with a nod, walking towards the doorway, “But best that she isn't alone. I will make sure that the patrols have gone.”

  Eigyr chuckled as Uthyrn vanished past the pelts and pulled Morgana gently until her head lay against the woman's shoulder. The hand at her back kept rubbing gently circles and Morgana felt a soft kiss pressed to her forehead.

  “Your step-father,” Eigyr muttered, “As though I'd leave you. Arto will be fine with Caoimhe for a few hours.”

  Both names echoed in her head; Morgana groaned and turned her cheek further into the warmth of the woman, her mother. The word sent a thrill through her, it was a word known to her only by explanation of reproduction. She'd never truly given the word any thought while she lived in the Sídhe Realm although on occasion families appeared before the Queen. Morgana froze and her body tensed, the Queen.

  She was surely betraying her Queen by allowing this ... iron creature to touch her so. But she was also to live in place of her changeling self, live in the iron realm in order to observe her Queen's enemies.

  “Morgana?” her mother called, shifting so she could lift Morgan's face up towards her. “My child are you alright?” Her mother's eyes became moist and Morgana wondered if she would cry. “What happened Morgana? Did the Sídhe….?”

  Fear. It was all Morgana could hear. The fear in the woman's voice despite her attempts to control it. She was so afraid, but of what? Starring at her face, Morgana tried to understand why the woman said the name of the great Sídhe with such fear? Surely she had to know that the Sídhe rescued children, surely she should have been saddened that Morgana had not been taken. Why was she so afraid?

  Suddenly Morgana could hear crying and screaming around her. She could hear worried voices whispering nearby and children whimpering. Warnings echoed in her mind, so many warning about the Sídhe. The days to avoid leaving her village, warning to be home before dusk and never leave before dawn, but she'd been careless. She remembered the howls of the Hounds and the Sídhe Rider grabbing her away from the field she'd been in only the day before. Morgana could feel the bruises on her arms, could remember being taken to the hill where…. where she'd seen herself arriving with a group of Sídhe.

  “No,” Morgana crocked out, “No they… started to take me, but dawn came before we got to the tunnels,” she managed.

  “I'm so sorry,” her mother whispered, wrapping her in another hug. “I'm so sorry you had to face that. The moment we knew you were gone Uthyrn took the guard out to search for you. I could barely believe it when they brought you home. I hoped, but-”

  Tears, Morgana realized as few drops hit the top of her head. Her mother was crying. A dull pang hit her chest, feeling like a hammer had struck her. It was hard to breath and hard to think of anything, but those tears. There was a wrongness to it that Morgana did not understand, but was certain of. She shivered, fear creeping into her mind at the alien feelings that she had towards this woman. It should not matter, Morgana told herself fiercely as she shut her eyes tightly and focused on the face of Queen Scáthbás in her mind's eye.

  “I love you Morgana,” her mother whispered, the words muffled by her hair, but still reaching Morgana clearly.

  Her hands shook and she had to close her eyes tighter as another wave of unfamiliar images flashed through her head.

  She could hear singing, sweet and natural nearby. Her mother's face leaning over her as a hand cupped her cheek. Soft whispers that she was loved. Laughter nearby. Her face hurt from smiling. There was a tall man who scooped her up and held her. He said that he loved her, but there was grief. That man was gone, her father was gone. Mother was still here and mother loved her.

  “You're shaking,” Eigyr sniffed, pulling away slightly from Morgana to study her.

  “Just….” Morgana trailed off, tears slipping from her own eyes. “I love you,” she croaked, the words painful and heavy on her tongue, but the need to say them was too strong. It was urgent, she'd die if she didn't and worse yet, they felt true.

  Smiling gently, Eigyr brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Movement in the corner of her eye made Morgana turn her head quickly towards the door. Eigyr moved off the bed in a fluid motion and Morgana's eyes landed on a small child that her mother moved towards. He looked roughly two years of age with dark brown hair and Uthyrn's brown eyes. The boy was looking up at Eigyr with an expression of adoration, Morgana noted with a frown. Her mother's hand moved to the boy's head and brushed several long strands of hair from his face in a gentle fashion that made Morgana tighten her fists.

  “As you can see Arto,” Eigyr said happily, “Your sister is safely back with us.”

  Morgana's frown deepened as she considered the words. If this was her brother, then this was the weapon of the Iron Realm and the threat to the Sídhe. This was her mission. Another wave of images and sounds crashed through her mind. More prepared for it, Morgana tensed and kept breathing through the rapid flashing of her changeling’s memories as they tried to settle into her own mind.

  Her father was gone, but then Uthyrn came into their lives. He was a leader, a protector of the bronze routes to the southern lands and strong like her father had been. She did not like him at first, taking Father's place and taking Mother, but Mother smiled again. Then Mother had become heavy with child and the boy had come. So small, so helpless and so trusting. He reached for her, he laughed and smiled at her. So many memories of holding him and playing in the grass with him as Mother and Uthyrn looked on. Her brother, her little brother. So many emotions tied up in him, more than with Mother. Protectiveness, irritation, anger, selfishness, amazement, gratitude and love.

  Taking a shaky breathe, Morgana eased the tight grip she'd made on the bed without realizing it. Arto was still gazing at Eigyr, but he turned his head to smile at Morgana. She lowered her eyes, but forced an uncomfortable smile. Her stomach turned and her chest hurt, there was just too much. How could the Queen expect her to survive this? There just too much of everything up here? She had no distance from these iron creatures, no shields and she was alone. How could she do this?

  “Gana?” a small voice called just before a tiny hand was placed on her knee. “Gana?”

  Morgana's hands shook, but she forced herself to look at the boy, Arto. Green eyes met brown and then there was something, a rush of magic so different from that which she had grown up with in the Sídhe Realm. It surrounded them, it linked them and Morgana was overwhelmed with images not from the mind of her changeling, but from the boy.

  Red hot flames danced before her and a strange metal orb glowed in their heat. Its surface cracked, spilling orange molten tears to the surface of a smooth stone. She inhaled the scent of fire, of charcoal and metal. A heavy metallic ringing echoed around her, once, twice and thrice before it all vanished.

  Crying filled the roundhouse as Arto stumbled back from Morgana, tripping on his own feet and falling back against the floor. Eigyr moved forward, but Morgana pushed herself off the bed and dropped to her knees in from of Arto. Without hesitation, she gathered him in her arms and held him close, feeling his heart beat against her chest. He sniffed softly in her arms and burrowed closer to her. Feeling soft hair in her fingers, Morgana realized that she'd begun stroking his hair without meaning to.

  “Gana?” the boy cried softly, weeping tears against her upper chest.

  “It's alright Arto,” Morgana whispered gently, astonished by her own words. “It's alright.”

  His crying eased and Morgana realized that Eigyr was kneeling next to them, her hand gently resting on Arto's head. Slowly releasing the boy, Morgana watched as Eigyr gathered him up and rocked him. Her mother made soft cooing noises before rising to her feet, Art
o still snug in her arms.

  “He must be exhausted,” she observed in a low voice before turning her eyes back to Morgana. “Will you be alright by yourself while I take him back to Caoimhe?”

  “Certainly Mother,” Morgana answered, her eyes still fixed on Arto. Her heart was still pounding and the scent of fire and metal filled her nose. If she hadn't known better, she would have believed that smoke filled her lungs. “I'm tired as well,” she continued with a small yawn. “I should sleep more.”

  Eigyr nodded slowly and Morgana's heart ached again as she realized that the woman hesitated to leave her. Giving another yawn, Morgana sat back down on the bed and stretched out, lying her head down so she could see her mother and brother. Smiling gently, Morgana sighed and closed her eyes, but focused on the sound of Eigyr moving towards the doorway with slow hesitate steps.

  “I will leave you to rest,” Eigyr told her from the doorway. “Perhaps Uthyrn has news.”

  For several minutes after her mother left the roundhouse, Morgana remained still on the bed with her eyes closed. Strange faces danced in her mind, connected to memories just beyond her reach, but flashes of strange emotions came with them. There was so much… joy, but there was also fear connected to the Sídhe. Her fingers twisted in the fabric as an image of a Rider with a Hound crashed forward in her mind and Morgana felt the crippling terror that her changeling self had gone through. Breathing deeply, Morgana did her best to shove the images away. One breath and then another and another to regain her balance and sense of purpose.