Morrigan (25 page)

“Mother! Grandmother!” Morrigan scrambled to
her feet and rushed inside the cell to her mother’s side. “Are you
all right?”

Ceridwyn smiled. “We are fine, my dear.
Thanks to you!”

Her mother was already helping Hecate to her
feet. Morrigan was worried the old woman might have been hurt, but
she practically cackled with glee. “We’re free! Free!” she
exclaimed. “Our time has come, Ceridwyn! We will take the kingdom,
and your ungrateful sister will pay the price for her
treachery.”

“Yes, yes, Mother, of course.” Ceridwyn
patted the old lady’s back, seeming to humor her. “But first, give
me just a moment to lay eyes on my child. I have not yet been able
to give her a proper greeting.”

Ceridwyn, now free from her prison, glided to
Morrigan. She again reached out a pale white hand, but this time it
was with a gentle touch. She stroked her cheek, her hair, her face.
Morrigan closed her eyes and savored the moment. All her life, as
she was being shuffled from one foster home to another, she told
herself she didn’t care about her real mother, but it had always
been a lie. She had been incomplete without knowing the woman who
had given her life. Now at last she felt like a whole person.

Morrigan memorized every inch of her mother’s
face, looking for any small similarities between them. They had the
same nose, the same arch to their eyebrows, and even the same
smile. Her features were delicate, but Ceridwyn’s eyes seemed
hungry—for love? For answers? It didn’t really matter. Ceridwyn
wrapped her arms around her daughter. As they embraced, they both
wept tears of joy.

“My daughter. My Morrigan!” Ceridwyn dabbed
at her eyes. “Let me look at you. You have grown into such a
beautiful young lady. When last I held you to my breast, you were
but a babe in my arms.”

“Far be it from me to interrupt such a tender
moment,” Tiarn said, sneaking up behind them. “But there will be
time for reunions later. The soldiers will be alerting Arianrhod of
your escape, if they have not done so already. Whatever your plans
are, Queen Ceridwyn, you should act now.”

“The dog is right.” Hecate shuffled over, and
Tiarn glared at her. “We must confront Arianrhod now. She cannot
stand against the complete triad.”

“Yes,” Ceridwyn agreed and grudgingly let her
daughter go. “We must move quickly, while the element of surprise
is still ours. Forgive me, Morrigan, but we will have the rest of
our lives to get to know one another. First, we have one last
obstacle to overcome.”

Ceridwyn led her small army, including a
strange ensemble of witches, Guardians, a hound dog, and a werewolf
out of the dungeon. They passed through a maze of glorious halls,
lined with suits of armor, generations of portraits, and statues of
Goddesses. The corridors were much more crowded than the servants’
quarters had been. They came upon many nobles and servants and even
a few guards. Some of them instantly fell to their knees in a
pathetic grovel as the queen marched past, and some couldn’t stop
staring at her entourage with dumbfounded expressions. No one tried
to stop them, and Hecate and Ceridwyn acted as though they didn’t
even see any of them.

Tiarn had remained strangely silent since
they had found her family. She took advantage of the trek through
the castle to fall back a little so she could speak with him. He
gave her the smallest of smiles. “You have done well, Morrigan. You
should be proud of your victory.”

“Our victory,” she reminded him. “I couldn’t
have done any of this without you.”

“You do not need me, Morrigan. As your
grandmother has so kindly reminded me, I am nothing but a dog. And
you already have your pets.” He gestured to Danu and Dagda. “What
need have you of one more?”

Morrigan was a little shocked at this
complete change in attitude. She was about to argue with him, but
they had arrived at their destination. They stood before two large
doors, each engraved with strange letters and symbols. Some she
knew, like the Celtic knot, the triquetra, and the pentacle, but
others were foreign. She wasn’t certain, but the doors appeared to
be made from solid gold. They must have been impossibly heavy, but
that didn’t slow down Hecate and Ceridwyn. As soon as they reached
the large doors, which would have been a barrier for any mere
human, Ceridwyn simply called upon the wind, her power element, and
they blew open with the force of a hurricane.

The witches did not move silently. They did
not bide their time or discuss any grand plans to take over the
castle. They simply barged into the room as though they feared
nothing, and Morrigan was forced to follow them blindly or be left
behind. On the other side of the doors, she found herself in what
must have been a sort of town hall. There were glorious chandeliers
glimmering with candles and a floor the size of a ballroom that was
emblazoned with the circle of life, the same symbol that had been
on the hand of the Gatekeepers.

Along three of the walls were rows of seats
similar to the pews of a church, and each section was occupied by a
different group of people. Based upon the style of their clothing,
Morrigan guessed they were divided by the witch’s council, the
nobles, and the peasants. Mixed in among them were several familiar
faces. A very shocked Brigid stood with a group of townspeople, and
Caedmon was among the soldiers who guarded the queen. There were at
least a hundred people in the room, and at the head of them all,
perched on a silver throne bedecked with jewels, sat queen
Arianrhod, with her ladies in waiting lined up behind her.

Even had she not been seated on the throne,
Morrigan would have known it was Arianrhod. She was stunning, and
Morrigan was immediately reminded of the Empress card in her tarot
reading. She was dressed in a magnificent golden gown embroidered
with silver thread. Her hay-colored hair was pulled back in braids
on the sides, but allowed to flow naturally down her back in
delicate waves. On her forehead sat the crown and symbol of her
office. It was in the shape of the triple moon with a large round
pearl in the center and cut diamonds making up the shimmering outer
crescents. Behind her, perched on a makeshift swing, was a glorious
white owl.

It seemed as though they had interrupted a
town meeting. A man with a scroll was standing beside the throne.
His mouth was still hanging open though he had stopped reading the
moment Ceridwyn and her mismatched army had thundered into the
room. They were greeted by startled screams and cries, all of which
went ignored. Ceridwyn strode directly up to the throne.

Arianrhod watched the band of warriors
approach and seemed neither afraid nor surprised. Morrigan was
terrified, especially when a second fleet of soldiers arrived just
seconds after them, led by the guards who had fled the dungeons.
They had been smart enough to skip going back to the dungeon and
head right to the intended target of the prison break. Though
perhaps it was too little too late, because her mother and
grandmother didn’t seem concerned, even though they were surrounded
by potential enemies.

At least Tiarn had the good sense to be on
the defensive. He instantly had his sword drawn. He took a
protective step toward Morrigan, while her panther and tiger
Guardians growled in the direction of anyone who looked like they
were going to make a move. The bystanders could only watch as the
sisters locked eyes and prepared for the inevitable battle. No one
moved. No one attacked, though the soldiers seemed ready to do so
if given the order. The room had fallen into a terrible
silence.

“Your time on that throne is over, Sister!”
Ceridwyn proclaimed. “Step down and perhaps we shall spare your
life.”

The guard Morrigan recognized took a step
toward her mother, but Arianrhod ordered him to stand down with
just a glance. “No, Caedmon. This is not your battle.” He did not
question the order, but stepped back into the crowd of onlookers.
Arianrhod turned to her sister. “I knew even magical bars would not
hold you forever, Ceridwyn. I knew this day would come.”

“You were a fool to try and steal my crown!
But now, you face not only the rightful queen of Tír na NÓg, but a
full triad of royal witches. You will never be able to overcome our
combined magic!”

“It is not about who holds the greatest
magic, Ceridwyn! It is about bringing peace to the kingdom. Would
you ignore the will of the people?”

“This is not a democracy! The people will
serve the rightful queen as they have for time immortal. I am the
eldest sister. By birthright, it is I who should sit upon that
throne!”

“You gave up that right the day you—”

“Silence!” Hecate interrupted. “Both of you!
Your words are wasted. As is our custom and as the council of
witches and sorcerers will undoubtedly agree, there is only one way
to decide which of my daughters should take the crown. There will
be a magical duel, and the winner must be accepted by all. As is
also our tradition, the Queen Mother may choose to stand beside the
daughter she feels is the rightful heir. Of course, future
generations may also stake their claim to maintain their place in
the succession. On that note, let me introduce to the council my
granddaughter, daughter of Ceridwyn, the Princess Morrigan.”

Hecate grabbed Morrigan and practically
shoved her toward the council members. They looked her over with
mild curiosity. It was only Arianrhod whose eyes bore into her,
making her feel as though her aunt had the power to reach down into
her soul.

“She has fought her way to this castle from
another world just to see that things are set right in our land,”
Hecate continued. “The three of us, as is our royal right,
challenge Arianrhod. Would the council deny this sacred
tradition?”

The robed figures convened and Morrigan heard
a few whispers of the prophecy. The men scratched their long
beards, while many of the women exchanged nervous glances. Finally,
an ancient, fragile-looking man rose to speak. He spoke in a stern
yet remorseful voice.

“The Queen Mother, Hecate, speaks the truth.
Their claim to the throne is legitimate. They have the right to
duel and we must believe the Goddess will lend Her might to the
rightful queen.”

Brigid stood from her seat, the only mortal
brave enough to speak. “And what of the village elders? Have we no
say in who is to be our queen?”

Hecate all but spat in her direction.
“Commoners have no say over matters of state. Go back to your
ploughs and horses before I have you thrown in the dungeon for your
impudence.”

A few of the other peasants started to shout
and even curse at the insult. At Hecate’s feet, the hound showed
the first hint of emotion and growled dangerously in their
direction. A rustling had stirred in the crowd, which infuriated
Hecate, but it was Arianrhod who silenced them.

“Please, dear Brigid, sit down. All of you
take your seats! I know you mean well, but what must be, will be. I
do not wish to see any of you harmed on my behalf. Especially when
it will change nothing.”

“Yes, Majesty.” Brigid bowed and obeyed
Arianrhod, but continued to glare at Morrigan and her family. “We
shall do as you bid us, though we are not happy about it.”

Arianrhod smiled. “Duly noted.”

“Enough of this foolishness,” Ceridwyn said
with a wave of her hand. “The time has come, Sister. The challenge
has been made. What have you to say?”

Arianrhod sighed. “Here before the council
and leaders of Tír na NÓg, I do hereby accept your challenge,
though it is with a heavy heart.”

As Arianrhod stepped down from the throne,
one of young hand maidens took hold of her hand and tried to pull
her back. She was dressed in robes as fine as the queen herself,
and though her auburn hair was in disarray and her green eyes were
wide with fear, she was still beautiful. Tears streamed down her
cheeks as she fell to her knees at the queen’s feet.

“Please, Arianrhod,” the girl begged. “You
cannot do this. You will be killed!”

Arianrhod knelt for just a moment to cup her
cheeks and lay a delicate kiss on her lips. “Do not fear for me, my
dear Deirdre. No matter what happens, you shall always be my
beloved. It is in the hands of the Goddess now.”

The girl wouldn’t be consoled and continued
to sob as Arianrhod faced her adversaries. Morrigan had barely
begun to worry about her first magical battle, when her mother
clasped her hand. On the other side of Ceridwyn, Hecate had done
the same. Instantly, Morrigan was swallowed up by that same
unbelievable surge of energy.

When they had focused on breaking down the
magical barrier in the cell, there had been no emotions tied to it.
This time, Morrigan was instantly overwhelmed by the intense anger
and hatred her mother and grandmother felt for Arianrhod. It
consumed them and fueled their magic. Once she was wrapped in that
all-consuming blanket of hate, there was no fear, only the longing
for vengeance. She needed to defeat Arianrhod no matter what the
cost.

Arianrhod stood her ground bravely when she
met the three witches, facing them straight on without blinking.
The magical battle was nothing like the physical assault of the
soldiers in the woods. It was a battle of wills between the two
would-be queens. Morrigan’s part in the duel was minimal. She was
working like a battery to charge and enhance her mother’s
abilities. In reality, it was only Ceridwyn who fought her sister.
It was her strategies. It would be her victory.

The two feuding sisters stood with eyes
locked, and Morrigan felt the lash of power come at her, almost
like a slap in the face. It was so weak, it barely grazed her, yet
Arianrhod could not stand up to the rebuttal. Her mother had
invisible hands wrapped around her sister’s neck. Arianrhod
sputtered and gagged as she tried desperately to breath. Her face
was turning blue, and Morrigan, so in tune with her mother’s
vicious hatred, was happy to see her suffer. The breath of life was
slipping away, and Arianrhod wasn’t even trying to fight anymore.
She was on the verge of unconsciousness when her handmaiden,
Deirdre, cried out.