Morrigan (23 page)

He looked baffled. “Does the fire witch
really need to ask?”

“Oh, right,” Morrigan replied, feeling
foolish. She was still getting used to the idea of magic being the
norm. Usually, she was the only one with the freaky powers.
“Magic.”

“Yes, of course it is magic. Torches that
never cease to burn are just one of the mystical elements of the
queen’s castle. Now come, we should move quickly. There may be no
guards about, but I’m sure the rats would love to greet us.”

Morrigan shuddered at the thought and dragged
her waterlogged frame behind Tiarn. Though the moat had seemed to
go on indefinitely, after about half an hour of sludging through
mud and slime, they finally came to a bend. The new path led them
to a ledge, which was large enough for them crawl up onto. Morrigan
wrung out her hair and dress as best she could, but the damp
clothes left her shivering and she felt like she was covered in
goo. She was relieved to be on dry land.

The cats shook out their coats vigorously in
Tiarn’s direction. He took it all in stride as he studied their new
surroundings. They appeared to be in another tunnel, and though
waterless, it was just as dreary as the one they had left behind.
Again, it seemed deserted. There were no guards watching the
entrance. No soldiers with swords drawn. It was just an endless
passage of ancient chipping mortar that smelled of mildew and
disuse and seemed to lead to nowhere.

The walls were damp and gray, and even the
magical torches seemed to sputter in protest at being trapped in
such a gloomy environment. Tiarn took her hand to lead her, and
this time she was certain they would be forever lost in the
underground labyrinth. She could see clearly to the end of the
passage and there were no twists or turns. After a while, she swore
she could hear distant voices. At first she thought it was just her
imagination playing tricks on her, until Tiarn put a finger to his
lips to signal silence. Through the heavy walls, they could just
barely make out the sound of a muffled conversation.

“Your sister’s child has eluded us once
again, Your Majesty,” she heard a male voice intone. “She has not
been seen since she fled the village of the elder Brigid.”

“What news did my trusted advisor have to
offer?” The fluid, feminine voice could only belong to Arianrhod.
It was strange how, even without laying eyes on her, Morrigan
instantly knew her aunt was beautiful.

“No news, Your Majesty. The villagers made no
attempts to overpower her once she revealed herself. She fled into
the woods of the fey, along with her canine companion.”

“Brigid was right to leave them be. We do not
need unnecessary bloodshed. The battle will come to pass as was
predicted. There is no changing destiny.” The man made no reply.
Eventually Morrigan heard a sigh followed by a dismissal. “Thank
you, Caedmon. You may leave me now and return to your post.”

“Yes, Queen Arianrhod.”

They didn’t have to see him to know he had
bowed. They heard the large man shuffle away. The sound was
followed by the delicate patter of feminine footsteps disappearing
into the distance. When it was clear they would hear no more, Tiarn
and Morrigan moved on, careful to do so in silence. If they could
hear on the other side of the wall, chances were the castle
occupants could hear them as well. She could only hope the constant
squeaking and squishing of her soggy boots didn’t give them
away.

They had not gone far when Morrigan realized
her eyes had been deceived in the dim light. The path was not
entirely straight. She could feel gravity pulling her down, and she
knew they were on some kind of incline, travelling down into the
bowels of the castle. It made sense. Isn’t that where they always
kept the dungeons—in the deepest and darkest recesses of the
fortress?

She wasn’t sure how long they were wandering,
but her hair was almost completely dry, even though her clothes
remained damp and very uncomfortable. It seemed as though hours had
passed when finally they reached the end of the winding passageway.
Morrigan assumed they had made a wrong turn. There was nowhere else
left to go, and she had no idea how they could ever get back on
track.

“We’re here!” Tiarn announced.

Morrigan was confused. “Where? At a dead
end?”

Tiarn shook his head. “You must learn to look
past the exterior,” he told her. “Remember things are not always
what you perceive them to be, especially in a world dominated by
magic. This is a lesson that could mean the difference between life
and death in the days to come.”

Morrigan huffed, “I know, I know. I’m doing
the best I can here, okay? It’s not easy being flung into strange
world and being expected to know all the rules.”

“I do not reprimand you, Morrigan. I only
wish to keep you safe.”

She sighed. “I know. But sometimes…the whole
situation is just frustrating. So what are we doing? Clicking our
heels together?”

The pun was completely lost on him. Instead
of replying, Tiarn reached out his hand to grasp the last torch in
the lineup at the edge of the corridor. They had passed at least a
hundred in their travels, but this was the only one that was
strangely unlit. Morrigan watched with curiosity and a little
anticipation as Tiarn put his ear to the wall. When he was certain
he heard no sound, he turned the handle of the torch down toward
the floor. With a creak of aged hinges, a secret opening
camouflaged within the wall grudgingly opened.

Tiarn pulled his sword from its still soggy
sheath and again gestured for her to remain silent and step behind
him. Realistically, it probably would make more sense for her to go
first, since her powers outweighed his sword. She didn’t want to
wound his male pride, especially when she was fairly certain there
was no one on the other side of the wall. They gradually inched
their way through the passageway, straining to see in the very dim
light. As soon as they were all the way through the opening, the
door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into complete and
total darkness.

Even though she couldn’t see, Morrigan knew
the room they were in was small. No matter how far she moved in any
direction, she bumped into a wall or some other obstruction. At one
point she screamed because she was certain she had grabbed hold of
someone’s hair. But there was no answering cry, just a loud clatter
as something that sounded like a large stick hit the ground. She
and Tiarn stumbled around for a few minutes, trying to find an
opening.

Tiarn cursed as he tripped and stumbled over
some unknown object, and the cats hissed and clawed his legs when
he stepped on one of their tails. Finally, Morrigan sighed in
frustration and assumed it couldn’t hurt at this point if she used
her powers. She raised a hand, silently called upon her patron
element, and instantly a ball of blue fire appeared in her palm. It
did not burn her flesh, but it lit up the small room with its
bright glow.

It appeared they were in some kind of storage
room for cleaning supplies. They found themselves surrounded by
feather dusters, scrub brushes, brooms, and mops—one of these items
was the hairy thing Morrigan had knocked over. Hecate had said the
underground tunnel would lead them to the servant’s chambers. Tiarn
was so glad to be able to see again that he didn’t complain about
her using magic to achieve it. He was just happy to get his foot
out of the bucket it was stuck in.

There were a few other items hanging up she
thought might come in handy. There were at least half dozen plain
gray frocks of the palace servants, in all different sizes, for
both men and women. Morrigan thought if all the servants wore the
same uniforms, it would make it much easier for them to blend in.
Plus it would be great to get out of her wet clothes. She whispered
her plan to Tiarn while lighting a few candles she pulled from a
pile of supplies. He crinkled his nose in distaste.

“I am no man’s servant nor would anyone be
likely to believe I were,” he said gruffly. “Besides, where would I
put my sword?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you where you can put your
sword,” she teased and goosed him.

“Is that right, Princess?” He pulled her
against him so suddenly it extinguished her magical flame. “Would
you take advantage of a simple commoner, right here inside this
closet?”

Morrigan kissed him, happy for the reprieve
from her fear, even if it were only temporary. She probably would
have stayed in the closet for hours if the cats hadn’t meowed their
annoyance.

“I would if we had time,” she told him. “But
instead, why not just hide the sword under these sheets?”

She tossed him a pile of soiled blankets that
were in a stack of waiting laundry. They smelled like stale urine
and sweat, but there was no other choice. The scent probably
offended Tiarn’s canine senses even more than the average person,
but he grudgingly agreed.

“Ugh,” he complained as he bundled up his
weapon like a baby, “the things I do for love.”

Once that was taken care of, they both
changed by the dim glow of the candlelight. Luckily, no maids came
around looking for supplies. As always, Tiarn was a complete
gentleman. He kept his back turned and closed his eyes while she
slipped out of her filthy blue gown and into the dull gray robes of
a servant, even though a part of her wished he could sneak a peek.
Unfortunately, she had to keep her damp undergarments on, which was
uncomfortable but necessary for modesty’s sake. She was happy to
see she hadn’t lost her little raven in their most recent
adventure. It was still safely tucked away, right beside her heart.
Somehow, she felt the little icon brought her closer to the
powerful Goddess who shared her name.

“Even in a servant’s rags you are a vision of
beauty.” Tiarn grinned at her when she had the last of the
complicated buttons and ties in place. She was really starting to
miss zippers and snaps.

“Thanks,” she said. “You look quite dashing
yourself.”

It was true. She had never seen Tiarn in
anything but animal skins, which was definitely sexy in a rugged
way. In the full bodied servant’s pants and collared shirt, with
his long dreadlocks tied back in a ponytail behind his neck, he
looked almost distinguished. He was still sexy, but in a completely
different way. Maybe that was just because she was so crazy in love
with him, but it made her want to kiss him again. As tempting as it
was, she controlled herself.

They were just about to leave the supply
closet when Morrigan realized the cats were going to be a problem.
Whether they stayed small or morphed into jungle animals, they
weren’t going to be a normal addition to the castle corridors. She
thought about leaving them behind, but she knew they could mean the
difference between victory and defeat in battle. She looked around
the small room and finally came up with the perfect idea. Two large
buckets were just the right size for Danu and Dagda to squeeze
into. They weren’t happy about being confined, but relented to the
will of their mistress with just a few offended glares.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Tiarn asked. His
voice sounded as shaky as she felt as he reached out to open the
door. “This is it, you realize. There is no going back now.”

“Don’t I know it,” Morrigan said. She took a
deep, cleansing breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

Morrigan’s heart pounded as Tiarn opened up
the door. She held her breath as the rusty hinges creaked, afraid
the sound would alert the castle guards. When they peeked out the
door, the coast was clear. They inched their way out into the
larger room that was apparently the servant’s sleeping quarters.
There were ten beds lined up with little dressers beside them, each
one covered with accessories and knick knacks. Luckily, the work
day was in full swing because no one was around. Somewhere far in
the distance, she could hear the indistinguishable chatter of
people going about their day.

Morrigan struggled with the heavy buckets as
they quietly slipped from the sleeping quarters into the main
hallway. She had never realized how fat her spoiled housecats had
become. She couldn’t pass off the burden to Tiarn. Even if the cats
would have tolerated him, he was already having trouble keeping the
ends of his sword from jutting out of the pile of sheets. She told
herself it only made her farce more convincing because it would
appear she was struggling with heavy buckets filled with water and
making every effort not to soil the royal carpets.

Since Tiarn was familiar with the castle
layout, he took the lead. Morrigan could only assume he knew where
he was going. Along the way, they passed a few finely dressed
nobles and someone who looked like the stereotype of an Arthurian
wizard. Their disguises must have worked, because the aristocrats
scarcely raised an eyebrow, except for one or two of them who
crinkled their noses in distaste at the lingering odor that clung
to them from the sewers. They even passed a few servants, but they
were too caught up in their work to notice them.

As they traveled, Morrigan kept expecting to
hear screams from those being tortured in the dungeons, but the
hall remained eerily quiet. Finally, they came to a large stairway
that led down to the deepest depths of the castle, and for the
first time she thought she heard the wailing of the prisoners. She
knew she was right when Tiarn spoke for the first time since
leaving the supply closet. His voice was barely a whisper.

“This stairway leads to the prison in which
your mother and grandmother are being held,” he explained. “There
will be guards, and they will know we do not belong no matter what
garb we adorn. Prepare for battle, Morrigan, for there is no way to
escape it. And pray we do not need to kill these men who but serve
their queen’s will.”

Morrigan nodded and swallowed hard. The last
thing she wanted was to hurt anyone. They began the long descent
down the winding stairway. She counted each footstep as she went,
hoping the mindlessness would calm her nerves. They had gone down
more than fifty paces when she was able to discern muffled voices
speaking to one another in addition to the occasional scream.
Another fifty feet went by before they were finally noticed, first
by the prisoners who began to whistle and hoot when they saw
Morrigan, and then by the guards.