Morrigan (18 page)

Morrigan wished she could offer him some
words of comfort. What words were there to soothe such agony? He
seemed content and even surprised she was still beside him at all.
Instead of speaking, she encouraged him to continue with a squeeze
of his hand.

“It did not take long for the villagers and
gypsies to converge upon me. Nothing brings people together like
the senseless death of a child. Even these two groups, who had once
been enemies, now had the common goal to destroy me. My own dear
friend, for whom I had risked all, was among the army of torches
and pitchforks that led me to the same prison from which I had
freed him. I surely could have saved myself had I transformed
again, but I knew I deserved their punishment, and I did not fight
them.

“It was decreed I was to die, but a merciful
death was too easy a punishment for my crime. In the days that
followed, they whipped me almost every hour. They denied me food
and drink and left me naked and broken in the town square where
children would throw rotten food at me. I wished for death, and
yet, I knew it was a mercy I did not deserve. I lingered there for
what may have been days or weeks, lost somewhere between life and
death, and consumed by guilt. I was a condemned man waiting for the
executioner. It was at my darkest hour that Hecate arrived.”

“My grandmother?” Morrigan asked,
surprised.

“Yes. At the time, she was still the reigning
queen and was passing through the town on royal business. She
arrived in a black, horse-drawn carriage, draped in her black
veils, with her large hound at her feet. At first I thought it was
the Goddess Hecate, come to take me to the underworld. It was not
until she spoke that I realized it was just the queen who bore her
name. Through a haze of pain, I heard her chastise the villagers
for ‘unlawful torture’ and ‘providing no fair trial’. The words
touched my ears, but meant nothing. I waited patiently for death
and endured the punishment I knew I deserved. But to my surprise,
the physical torture ended that day. I only vaguely remember being
freed from the stocks by the guards and carried to Hecate’s own
carriage. She spoke to me only once for the duration of the ride.
‘Swear to serve me, and I will save your wretched life,’ she said
to me.

“I managed to nod before the pain claimed me
and I fell into darkness. The next few days made our struggles last
night seem tame in comparison. The healer’s medicines often seemed
far worse than the torture. Nevertheless, in time their cures
worked, and I awoke one day, healthy and strong, but forever
changed.”

Tiarn no longer wept, but Morrigan wept for
him. Her poor, dark knight had suffered like no other, and she
wanted nothing but to heal the wounds within him. Such things were
not in her power, even if she was a witch. Some wounds went so
deep; they could never be healed completely. Perhaps her love would
be the crutch he needed to continue on his journey through life
with some happiness.

“Hecate let me go, but promised she would
call me when my services were required. She did so just a few short
days ago. She requested I go through the portal to retrieve her
granddaughter. I was honor bound to answer her summons, and so I
went as I swore I would. And here we are, and here my story
ends.”

“Here we are,” Morrigan repeated quietly.
“And I, for one, am grateful my grandmother saved you.” She tried
to give him a small smile. “I told you royalty weren’t so bad.”

He smiled back, but it did not touch his
eyes. “I know I should be grateful to Hecate for saving my life.
Yet, at times, I feel it is a greater punishment to live with the
knowledge I took that innocent life. Sometimes, I wish she had left
me to the villagers.”

“Please don’t say that, Tiarn!” Morrigan
begged.

Morrigan, though horrified by all that he had
suffered, felt no anger or disgust. She only shared his grief and
his remorse. She held him and dried his tear streaked cheeks with
the touch of her lips. He kissed her back in desperation. Their
tears mingled, became one. At first she thought he might never
release her from his embrace. It was deep and sensual and she felt
herself sinking into it completely. But then he suddenly pushed her
away. He stood and leaned against the hearth of the fireplace and
wiped at his tear strained eyes, seemingly angry to have allowed
himself this one small weakness.

“How can you stand to touch me now that you
know the truth? I am a killer! I killed an innocent child! I am not
worthy of your sympathy or your love.”

“And yet you have them both.” She stood and
wrapped her arms around his waist. “It was an accident, Tiarn. It
was the wolf and not the man. What happened isn’t your fault!”

“Do not delude yourself, Morrigan. The wolf
and the man are one in the same. And the sins of that horrible day
may well be repeated.”

She turned his head toward her. He didn’t
fight her touch or the grief that poured forth from the depths of
his soul. “You aren’t alone anymore, Tiarn. You can fight the power
the wolf has over you. We will fight it together.”

“Oh, my beautiful princess. You almost make
me believe I could be saved.”

Filled with a passion born from deep grief,
he grabbed her up into his arms, and she gladly offered him refuge.
They remained locked together, until at last they fell exhausted
onto the rug beside the fire. They laid there for hours, exalting
in their closeness and feeling happily cut off from the rest of the
world. For just a few minutes, there was no past for either of them
and no potentially fatal battle in their future. There was only the
two of them and the budding romance they shared.

“You are a remarkable, beautiful woman,” he
said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Yet as much as I
would love to linger in your arms forever, I will not take you as
my lover this night. No matter how much our groins may beg for
it.”

“Why?” Morrigan teased, though she blushed
just the same. “Because my grandmother told you my maidenhead needs
to stay intact?”

“It is not for Hecate that I make this
sacrifice, but for you,” he whispered, still serious. “I would be
doing you a dishonor to take you outside of our wedding bed.”
Morrigan knew she turned beat red at the very mention of marriage.
Yet, it didn’t seem nearly as insane an option to marry at
seventeen than it would have just a few days earlier. “Come,” he
told her. “This night, we will but slumber beside one another. We
have the rest of our lives for more.”

As he stood, he suddenly grimaced and gripped
his belly. Morrigan felt an immediate rush of concern, fearing he
was having a relapse. “Tiarn?”

He saw the panicked look on her face and
smiled. “Do not worry yourself, Princess. The combination of an
emotional evening and a large meal has unsettled my belly. I should
have listened to your wisdom and not allowed my eyes to grow larger
than my stomach.”

“My poor Filtiarn,” she soothed him, “you
have no luck, do you?”

“Perhaps my luck has at last changed. After
all, I have found my true soul mate, and how many men can claim
such good fortune?”

Tiarn removed his tunic before they climbed
into the bed together. Morrigan pulled him close to her, and she
snuggled against his fuzzy chest. As they adjusted into a
comfortable position, she placed a comforting hand on his sore
belly. She could see as well as feel that the normally smooth
abdomen was hard, and it rumbled and growled with a mind of its
own. While he didn’t complain again, she imagined he was quite
uncomfortable. She ran her fingers along his belly in gentle
circling motions, trying to massage any aches that remained. He
sighed and pulled her closer.

“Again you amaze me. I complain of a
well-earned belly ache, for which you should give me no sympathy.
Yet still you tend to me with sweet gentleness.”

Morrigan blushed. “Would you rather I
stopped?”

“Goddess, no!” he exclaimed. “What canine
does not like a good belly rub every now and again?”

Morrigan laughed; she was glad to see he was
nearly himself again. She continued to run her fingers along his
body, loving the velvety feel of the hair on his chest that was
somehow a combination of human and canine and so much softer than
she would have imagined. It was a pleasure and a comfort to snuggle
against, so much so that she felt herself easily drifting to sleep
beside him. Her eyes were growing heavy. She had almost fallen
asleep when he whispered in her ear.

“I love you, Morrigan.”

Her heart swelled so large, she was amazed it
didn’t explode. “I love you too, Tiarn.”

In the morning, Tiarn was back to business as
usual. He was up at the break of dawn gathering their equipment,
yet his whole disposition had changed. He still had his moments of
sarcasm, which wasn’t surprising since that was part of his normal
personality. But he was much more cordial than he had been. He
didn’t rush her when she sponged off with the fresh, clean water
Brigid had brought for them. He stood patiently whistling with his
back to her as she dressed. Never once did he try to sneak a peek
over his shoulder. When she was dry, she slipped back into the blue
gown and once again padded her middle so she would appear to be
pregnant. She pulled her cloak up over her head as an added
precaution.

Tiarn didn’t complain when she was packing up
her things even though she was taking her time deciding what to
bring and what would stay behind. The letter from her father, the
little carved raven from Alden, and her sketchpad were now her most
valuable possessions, especially since she had lost her tarot
cards. She kept them secure in the inside zipper of her backpack.
The alcohol, bandages, and other medical supplies were used up. She
hid the empty containers under the bed, figuring by the time the
strange items were discovered they would be far enough away to
avoid detection. She didn’t want to carry anything unnecessary, but
she also knew she had to be careful what she left lying around in
plain sight. She did hold onto all the water bottles and filled
them with the drinking water Brigid had brought in an old metal
pitcher. She checked her food inventory and saw she was down to a
package of beef jerky and a bag of potato chips. It was a pretty
meager supply, so she grabbed the bread and fruit left over from
their supper.

When they were at last ready to leave, Tiarn
took hold of her hand like they were a real honest to goodness
couple. They stuck close together and tried to avoid speaking to
anyone as they crept by the patrons enjoying their breakfast in the
tavern. They were almost to the counter to check out when Tiarn
slapped himself in the forehead.

“Well, I’ll be a three-legged hound dog! I
have forgotten my sword of all things!”

That was one thing they definitely couldn’t
leave behind. “You go ahead and get it,” Morrigan told him. “I can
settle our bill with Brigid.”

He looked a little nervous, but he had
learned better than to underestimate her. He handed her the velvet
pouch while he dashed back up the stairs. Morrigan went to the
counter to greet Brigid. She thanked her for her generous
hospitality and handed over the required payment. When she was
done, they were left with just one last bronze ring. She slid it
inside her backpack which she had hidden under her cloak, trying to
be discreet so they wouldn’t notice her otherworldly
accessories.

She was zipping up the bag and fretting over
their precarious situation when a pair of filthy farmers approached
her, trying to look seductive. Morrigan groaned. She was beginning
to wonder if they were short on women in Tír na NÓg, or if the men
were just all perverts.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

The one who spoke stood so close she could
smell his rancid breath reeked of day-old alcohol. The two of them
must have been out on a drinking binge all night. His uncoordinated
friend stood behind him, leaning against a chair to keep from
falling over and displaying a grotesque smile that revealed a
mouthful of blackened teeth. The noxious scent of body odor was so
strong she had to cover her nose.

“Excuse me,” Morrigan said and tried to
squeeze past them toward the door, but not before glancing over her
shoulder at the stairs to see if Tiarn was on his way. She silently
cursed when she saw no sign of him.

“What’s the hurry, darlin’?” The man slurred
his already thick accent as he blocked her path. “You wouldn’t want
to be rude now, would you? What with you being a stranger in town
and all, you should be lookin’ to make as many friends as
possible.”

He reached out a grimy, dirt-encrusted hand
and tried to grab hold of her wrist. Even before she had a moment
to react or could back away, Tiarn was beside her. A low rumble
escaped his throat as he reached up and caught the man’s arm in
midair. He glared at the farmer with pure fury in his eyes.

“What business do you have with my wife, good
sirs?” he demanded with exaggerated pleasantness.

“What business do you have in our town,
stranger?” the drunkard countered.

Morrigan gasped when one of the men reached
for the dagger on his belt. His smelly friend, though seemingly
unarmed, looked more than ready to back him up if a brawl were to
ensue. As soon as Tiarn sensed the imminent threat, his eyes
transformed into the yellow slits of the wolf, and she was sure she
saw his canines extending as he snarled at the men. He had just
placed his hand on his sheath when Brigid intervened.

“Liam! Patrick! You leave those two children
alone! Are you in such a drunken daze that you cannot see the girl
is with child?” She smacked one of them in the rear with a towel
she had pulled from her belt. “You better scoot yourselves out of
here, you good for nothin’ drunken louses, before I have the pair
of you flogged!”