by WB McKay
What the hell?
I circled the room and landed back where I was. If they weren't going to attack, I didn't need to fly off and leave Owen behind. Maybe this would work out after all. I shifted back to human so I could talk.
The tallest man I'd ever seen rose to his feet and stepped forward, his blue eyes shining with some emotion I couldn't put a name to. I swear, it looked like he was going to cry with joy. "You've come back to us, Battle Goddess. We thought you had forsaken us."
My mind raced, trying to understand what was going on so I didn't make a misstep. What had changed? They'd seen me shift. The Morrigan had a crow form. They thought I was her. "Yes," I said tentatively. "I've returned." Technically, I'd left the room and returned. The word games with this charade could get tricky quick.
A chorus of cheers echoed through the room. Tears streaked down Mountain Man's face and into his beard. "We have sacrificed many dragons over the decades you've been gone. The magic has been poured into this place and is yours for the taking."
I nodded, trying to keep my gorge from rising into my mouth. They'd been killing dragons for decades. That's where the magic I'd felt permeating this place had come from. "You have done well, but it is time for your work to be finished. I require that you free the dragons you have here. I have use for them elsewhere."
"You cannot leave us again," said the Mountain, his features turning to grim determination. "We have appeased you. Now you must stay and honor us with your favor. We will feast and sacrifice these dragons for you."
I turned to study Owen. Way out of this mess, way out of this mess, there had to be a way out of this mess... Owen's eyes went to the woman in the cell across the way. She'd moved to the front of it and clutched at the bars. Their gazes held for several seconds and then each nodded. No words were exchanged, but an agreement had been come to. I had a creeping suspicion of what it was as relief shone in her eyes. I knew what I'd be thinking: escape or death. Either would be acceptable to her. Anything that changed her circumstances.
It wasn't acceptable to me.
"You have displeased The Morrigan," I said, raising my voice and putting as much pompous authority into my tone as I could manage. I wanted to believe it was true, and that was enough. I knew The Morrigan was evil, but if she enjoyed dragon sacrifices she wouldn't be ignoring the bizarre group. "Release your prisoners and allow us to depart and I won't eat you."
"To be eaten by The Morrigan would be a great honor," said the Mountain. Oh, fae, this again? I was rolling my eyes, so I missed when he lunged forward and wrapped me in his iron grip. "But you will give the rest of my men your aid as they have appeased you. We will feast and feed you the magic of the dragons. You will not fool us with your tricks. We know your rules. We must earn your approval. If we have not already, these sacrifices must be enough. Why else would you have returned?"
I opened my mouth to argue and my head was slammed to the side. The last thing I heard before drifting into unconsciousness was the clansmen cawing.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pain.
My skin stung. I couldn't stretch out my legs. Was I in a cage?
I sat bolt upright as the events before I lost consciousness came back to me. I was in a silver cage. Magic imbued the silver. It smelled like blood—binding magic. Even if the magic weren't an issue, the bars were close enough together that a crow couldn't squeeze through. My swords were gone. I punched the bars of the cage, angrier about that discovery than being put in a cage. Where the fuck were my swords? I'd been put into a black dress, decorated with shiny bits and bobs. Some of them looked sharp. That would explain some of the poking. The straw lining the bottom of my cage explained the rest. They were treating me like a bird. Giving me shiny things, hay to nest in, and putting me in a birdcage. Ugh! I was a person, too! Well, I guess they had given me a dress rather than leaving me naked.
My cage was positioned on a table at one end of the dining hall I'd seen earlier, near a raised platform I hadn't noticed in my earlier hasty review of the room. The platform held a pile of stones, with little shiny trinkets tucked in the cracks, topped with one giant, flat stone that was a peculiar shade of reddish brown. The coloring wasn't uniform, like it had been poorly dyed. I stared at it, head crooked to the side, until it hit me like a car hit crows too involved in their dinner. Blood. That was a sacrificial altar. Those freaking devout monsters. That was where they were going to kill Owen and the other dragons if I didn't stop them.
I had to get out of that cage.
Men walked purposefully around the dining hall lugging crates and barrels. Some decorated the room with boughs of evergreens and a few huddled around the huge hearth, critiquing their comrade's fire building skills. Every one of them gave off a sense of anticipation for a long awaited holiday. The celebrations were about to commence! Hurray, oh cheery day! I fought down the urge to vomit because I didn't have anywhere to do it other than the straw at my feet.
None of the men paid me any attention, so I searched the silver cage for a latch, something I could break and set myself free. There was nothing. Fear took hold in my gut. I was trapped in this little cage and there was no way out. The fear grew until it was an icy chill that filled my chest. I had to calm down or I was going to lose it.
"Hey!" I shouted at the nearest of the men. My voice was shrill and panicked, even to my own ears. "Big, tall, and hairy! Let me out of here."
"Ah, The Morrigan has awakened," he said with a pleasant smile. "Your sacrifice will be ready soon." He kept on walking and set his huge cask on a table near the altar. "We will toast you with much ale," he said proudly.
I got the attention of two more men with similar results and slumped in my cage. Frustration and anger took the edge off my panic. I had to make a plan, and quick. The hall was filling up. These guys didn't exactly strike me as the patient type.
Unfortunately, I had no idea how to stop them from doing exactly what they wanted. It made me want to scream. Wait, that was an idea right there. That bump on the head and waking up trapped had done a number on my thought processes. After a few minutes of my magic shriek, they were bound to open the cage to try to shut me up.
I waited until a couple of guys passed close by and then I really let loose, forcing as much power into it as I could muster. As one, every man in the room jerked to attention and turned to face me. Dozens of crazed eyes fixed on me, except it wasn't right. They were in pain; I was familiar enough with the response to know. The problem was, they weren't succumbing to the agony. They weren't clutching their heads, begging for it to stop. They were relishing it, smiling at me like they were proud. Blood dripped from the ears of the two I'd expected would try to gag me. They stepped up and patted my cage. "The Morrigan rages," one of them shouted over my wail. "She is preparing for the sacrifice we have arranged."
The room full of men patted each other on the back, smiling and nodding at me like I was affirming their whole sick lives. I let the magic of the scream die and snapped my mouth shut.
A lot of messed up things had happened as a result of my magic over the years, but this was by far the strangest.
With my scream over, they went back about their tasks. Some of them banged their palms against their heads, trying to ring the pain free and adjust to the temporary hearing loss, but if anything, they had a renewed enthusiasm for their work. "What the hell? Do they have magically shielded minds or something? Maybe that's why they're so dense. The magic is clouding their brains."
None of them acted like they heard me, which they probably didn't. Even without magic, my screams had been particularly loud.
I needed out of that cage.
Using my fear magic was always a risky idea, but if there was ever a moment for risks, that was it. Time to see how they reacted to a strong dose of terror. I pulled on the fear I'd felt when I'd watched my last scary movie. It wasn't very good, but there had been a couple of moments that made me check under my bed that night. I pushed that fear out through my aura and waited f
or it to permeate the room. After five minutes, nothing happened. Not a single warrior twitched, not even when one of the men dropped a table on his toe and let out a yowl that even made me jump. I amped up the fear level by degrees until I was channeling every scary memory I could dredge up: The Birds, Leandra attacking me, Leandra dying, jumping from Lou's cave into the ocean, the nights I'd stayed awake worried when the next time my palms would light up with my death light—and nothing happened. The only response I got were some vague looks of discomfort.
I dropped the magic—all I was doing was working up my own fears, which weren't doing me any favors right then—and pounded on the cage. No reactions, of course. "Damn it. I'm not The Morrigan! Let me out of here."
"The Morrigan enjoys playing her tricks," said a man, clucking his tongue with amusement. He took a seat at the table my cage sat on. His hair had far more feathers in it than any of the other men I'd noticed. My working theory was it signified rank, and I was being observed by someone important. Someone important who desperately wished for me to kill him. "She likes to test our loyalty. We will not waver. She always wants a sacrifice, and we will give it to her."
"I'm not The Morrigan," I said for the hundredth time.
"You change into a crow, you yowl with such ferocity our ears bleed, and you chill even the greatest warrior's heart with fear." He looked at me more shrewdly than I thought any of those beastly men capable of. "What in all of that tells us you are not The Morrigan?"
Shit. I'd given them all the proof they needed. If they had questioned their conviction at all, I had removed any doubt by demonstrating my magic. I only had one left, and killing them all with my death light wouldn't get me out of the cage. Not to mention I wasn't even sure it would pass through the spelled enclosure.
There was a stirring on one side of the room, and all heads turned that way. I couldn't see what was happening from my vantage point, but I could smell the meat. It was time for the feast. My stomach rumbled. With all the times I'd recently lost consciousness, I wasn't sure how much time had passed since I'd left home. The only real food I'd eaten since then had been at Siobhan's. My stomach rumbled its protest. Loudly.
"The Morrigan hungers," said Smarty, stroking the feathers in his hair and letting out a hearty laugh. "She will feast well tonight on the corpses of three dragons. She will absorb their magic and the magic of all those that have been sacrificed before them."
"She would be fine with a plate of food," I grumbled. A group of men set down huge platters of meat, potatoes, and other vegetables I didn't recognize. I didn't even care that I couldn't identify the animal the meat came from. My mouth watered. "I won't enjoy my sacrifice if I pass out from hunger first."
That seemed to grab Smarty's attention. He grabbed a slice of meat and slid it through the bars. It dropped in the straw, and his hands were filthy, but I didn't care. Enough of them had been eating it that I had to believe it wasn't poisoned with magic—well, had to believe it, or go hungry. I snatched up the food before he changed his mind. The salty taste burst in my mouth and I let out a groan of pleasure. "So good." That prompted Smarty to flip another piece between the bars and I grabbed it up just as quickly.
Smarty smiled. "The Morrigan is ravenous." He howled with laughter at his pun.
"Ravens are not crows," I told him. "You should know that if you're spending your whole existence worshiping a particularly violent one." I spit out the pieces of straw that made it into my mouth. Smarty looked like he was thinking over what I'd said, searching for the deeper meaning. Maybe he'd note it in their Battle Goddess Bible later. If I hadn't killed him yet.
Once he was done observing me, Smarty joined the others and commenced with the feasting. Apparently, while they greatly anticipated the sacrifice, a good feast couldn't be rushed, because it went on for hours.
I had no idea how to escape. My mind went in circles until my eyes lost focus. The use of my magic, combined with surging adrenaline and my full belly, must have made for a heady cocktail, because I dozed off.
Dozens of meaty fists thumping on tables woke me right up. These people were doing an excellent job of putting me in the mood for violence, I had to give them that. Waking me up with loud noises, no food or coffee. That's how I'd treat my goddess if I had one, I'm sure. Unaware of my simmering rage—not that they would have reacted appropriately anyway—the fools continued on. Eventually, the noise resolved into a rhythmic beat that vibrated my chest. It must have been a signal, because two men entered through the double doors, each one pinning one of Owen's arms, despite the rope that tied his hands together. The necklace was back around his throat. His eyes were dull and vacant. He stumbled up the stairs, only keeping his feet with the aid of his captors.
The other two dragons followed, cradled in the arms of their escorts. Even if I got out of my cage and mounted a rescue mission, I had no idea if the three of them would be able to walk out of the room without help. In fact, I would bet no for the last two. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right; it wasn't—it couldn't be happening. It was a nightmare. Trapped in a cage, watching it all play out. I couldn't stand seeing any of them like that, but especially Owen. He was such a chatty bastard, always so animated and full of life. His brain never stopped turning. He had to have thought of a way to get out of this. "Owen," I called, my fist rattling my cage. He turned his head briefly toward me, and I thought I saw the corner of his mouth tug up. I blinked and he was back to his vacant stare, leaving me wondering if it had actually happened.
Smarty heaved to his feet and patted his belly. The audience roared. He mounted the platform and let the applause go on for far too long. Finally, he raised his hands for quiet. "We have feasted and toasted The Morrigan and her battle prowess. Now it is time we honor her! We can offer no greater sacrifice for the great crow and all of her glory than blood and magic." He paused to smile at me with pride and devotion before screaming over the crowd, "Sacrifice the dragons!"
CHAPTER TWENTY
I sat forward in the cage, looking for an opportunity, a chance, an idea. Anything. I had to at least stall the proceedings. But as I watched, they ushered Owen forward and flopped him onto the bloodstained altar. I gasped when I heard the ring of steel. I knew that sound. Smarty had pulled Epic from his sheath and stood directly behind Owen, poised to impale him with my sword, all the while looking at me like he was waiting for me to do something. What did he want from me? To claw off his face? I'd be happy to. Turn into a giant crow? I couldn't. My mind raced through everything I knew about The Morrigan, and my brain latched onto the first thought that popped in my head. "Stop!" Contempt curled my lip, and my words flowed out on rolling snarls. "Do not harm the sacrifice. I want him alive and wriggling! It is time for The Morrigan to devour her sacrifice!"
The way they spoke about The Morrigan in third person had been irritating until it just so happened to help save me. The fae couldn't lie... but we had our tricks.
Smarty lowered my sword with a fierce grin of satisfaction spread across his face. He sheathed Epic and stepped off the platform, making his way to my cage. "The Morrigan is claiming her rightful place and taking the sacrifice directly!"
A wild shout erupted from the assembled clansmen. It hurt my ears, but all I could do was focus on Smarty's hands as he reached out to the cage. His meaty finger wore a silver ring, etched with runes. Instead of finding a hidden latch, his hand passed through the bars of the cage and locked around my wrist. Shock stopped me from reacting. I knew the cage was enchanted, but I hadn't expected anyone to pass through solid metal. Were the cage walls themselves a portal? Not the time to wonder about that, Sophie.
I stood up and stepped forward involuntarily when he jerked my hand. I passed through the metal as easily as he had, a cold tingling running through my body as the silver ghosted through me.
Silence blanketed the room as he led me to the altar. I didn't dare look at Owen. I had to keep my face locked into a mask of superiority. The Morrigan didn't have feelings about the meat that was gi
ven to her as a sacrifice. As far as I could tell, The Morrigan didn't have feelings about anything.
As I stood there surveying the crowd of muscled men, bristling with weapons, I calculated the odds of my surviving for more than thirty seconds after I grabbed my swords. They came out to roughly zero. Give or take.
Smarty left the platform and took his seat beside my cage. The other guards were a few yards off to one side, still holding their charges, who looked in better health than they had a few moments ago.
"Caw," called one of the men in the back of the crowd. My eyes shot to him, and he raised his arms to mimic flapping wings. "Caw!" he repeated. The call was taken up by the men surrounding him, and the rest of the room joined in, shaking the rafters with their ridiculous mocking of the crow. They were an ocean of hate, their arms undulating waves, waiting to batter me to pieces.
I used the distraction to look at Owen. "Can you shift?"
"No," he answered. "But I think I can use my fire. And I think the others aren't as bad off as they seem." He turned his eyes toward the frailer dragons.
Right. So, there was my backup.
I grabbed Epic off the low table to my right, took a few quick steps, and beheaded one of the male dragon's guards before anyone could react.
The cawing of the crowd turned into a confused rumble. I had been counting on the element of surprise to carry me for a while. Since there were around a hundred men in the room, we'd need every advantage we could get. I skewered two more of the dragon's guards and then cut the prisoners' hands free. The guards died with a strange look of joy on their faces, mingled with the pain. Death cults were weird.
I checked on Owen and found he'd used Haiku to free his own hands and was now lobbing fireballs into the crowd. Good dragon. That was enough to shatter the confusion. The sound of weapons clattering filled the hall. Now it was time for the real fight to begin.
