Morrigan (10 page)

Morrigan ate the food slowly while Alden sat
across the table from them, stroking the two cats, who seemed to
adore him. The black-and-orange fur blended together as they
snuggled at his feet, graciously accepting every scratch and pat he
offered as their human companions ate. Morrigan wanted to enjoy the
meal, but her mind was spinning with questions about her father. It
made it hard to concentrate on the food. She was going to wait
until Alden brought it up again, not wanting to appear rude, but
she couldn’t control herself.

“You mentioned you knew my father . . .
.”

She let the sentence trail off and took a
careful sip of her cider so she would sound casual. Tiarn glanced
up briefly from his meal, trying not to appear as curious as he
was, and even Danu and Dagda’s ears seemed to prick with
interest.

Alden nodded. “So I did. We were fellow men
at arms under the banner of the good queen. Our time together in
the battlefield brought us as close as any brothers. There was no
man I trusted more with my life. It was he who asked with his dying
breath that I send you protection. And so I sent you these two.” He
gestured to the cats who meowed in agreement. “In the hopes they
would keep you safe until your return to Tír na NÓg.”

“So my father . . . he’s . . . gone?”
Morrigan felt a lump rise in her throat when she thought of the
father she would never know. At least she had learned he cared for
her. It was more than she had ever hoped for.

“Yes, my dear. I am afraid he has been gone
these fifteen years or more. In fact, you were just a wee bairn
when he left this world.”

“What happened to him? Did he die in
battle?”

Alden sighed deeply, lost in his own
memories. “In a manner of speaking. He was one of the leaders of
the revolution to help put the rightful queen on the throne. He was
captured by the queen’s rebel sister and put to death when he
refused to follow her rule.” His voice had become barely a whisper,
and Morrigan knew he was seeing things in his mind that were far
worse than the darkness caused by his blindness. “I will never
forget the sight. It was the last thing I saw before the witch
blinded me.”

Tiarn seemed worried as he listened. Morrigan
wasn’t sure why the old man’s story bothered him so much, but he
shoveled the last of his food into his mouth and just about burst
from his chair.

“Well, thank you for the meal and that
wonderful bit of information, Sir Alden. However, the princess and
I should really be on our way. The sun will be going down soon, and
we will need the cover of the trees.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Filtiarn,”
Alden assured the lycan. “I am just a blind old man, yet I can see
enough to know there are some truths that can only be revealed when
the time is right. My only task today is to pass a message to
Morrigan from her father.”

Tiarn immediately settled back into his
chair, visibly calmer. He even helped himself to a second bowl of
stew. It was as though an unspoken bargain had just been made, and
Morrigan was not a part of it. Or even worse, perhaps she was the
thing they were bargaining for. For the first time, she wondered if
maybe Alden wasn’t the gentle soul he seemed to be. Before she
could ponder it further, he took a worn piece of parchment paper
from the pocket of his tunic and handed it to her.

“Your father was able to slip this to me
before the dark witch took his life. I have guarded it all these
years, knowing one day you would come to claim it. I did not read
it. They were words meant for you alone.”

Morrigan took the yellowed paper from his
gnarled hands and unfolded it with trembling fingers. She was
expecting an explanation of why her parents had abandoned her in a
world where she could never fit in. The words she read left her
with more questions than answers, though they touched her
deeply.

“My Daughter, Morrigan,

Only once, I held you in my arms before you
were ripped from my life forever. Yet in that blessed moment, I
realized you were the greatest gift the Gods had ever bestowed on
me. Your soul shone with a brilliant radiance and light. Only you
can decide whether to let that light flourish. Remember the choice
is yours and I have always had faith in you. I love you, dearest
one. I will always be with you in spirit.

Eternally Yours,

Your father, Connelly”

Morrigan folded the note and put in in the
center of her sketchpad for safe keeping. She felt her eyes brim
with tears and wished that spirit were enough to help her through
the next few days. Her father’s cryptic message hardly seemed
helpful. Witches were supposed to be strong, but Morrigan felt weak
and alone. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to free her mother
from the evil queen who held her captive when no one else had been
able to defeat her. Especially now that she had learned Arianrhod
had also killed her father.

“What does this mean?” Morrigan asked. “What
choice did my father think I would have to make?”

Alden smiled. “As I told your changeling
friend, some things you must discover on your own. So follow your
path, Morrigan. Follow all the twists and turns, but remember to
always stay true to yourself. No matter what you discover along the
way, remember you make your own fate.”

As the hours passed, Morrigan became attached
to the old man. He told so many stories of the battles he had
fought and the places he had seen in his travels with her father,
Connelly, she was beginning to feel like she had known them both
for years. As they chatted, she sketched his picture, and around
his silhouette, she added images of the animal carvings he had
created. She would have been more than happy to spend days in his
company.

As time passed, Tiarn became more and more
adamant they had to move on. He insisted it wasn’t safe to stay in
one place for too long. Morrigan wanted to argue. She had learned
more from Alden in a few short hours than she had from Tiarn since
their meeting. But when Alden himself agreed and said he was sure
he could hear the sound of foot soldiers in the distance, she
realized she had no choice. The last thing she wanted was to put
the blind man in danger.

“Before you go, there is something I want you
to have.” Alden disappeared into a corner room and returned a few
minutes later with a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with
twine. He handed it to Morrigan. “It is not much,” he told her.
“But I thought it might help you to blend in once you reach the
villages. Of course I cannot see what you are wearing, but I know
in your world, the style of dress is much different than here in
Tír na NÓg.”

“What is it?” Morrigan asked.

“It is only a plain gown. It once belonged to
my wife. She left this world long ago, along with a son who never
had the chance to take his first breath.” Behind the blank eyes,
Morrigan could see a glimmer of tears. “I am sure she would want
you to have it. She was always very fond of your father.”

Morrigan accepted the gift and carefully
unraveled the twine. Inside she found a simple peasant gown in a
pale shade of blue with wide bell sleeves, complete with a white
cord to tie at the waist. The fabric was not quite cotton and not
quite silk, but some strange combination she couldn’t place. In
addition to the dress, there was a heavy black cloak with a hood
and a high collar. It was far from simple and was obviously dear to
him.

Morrigan shook her head. “I can’t accept
this. It’s lovely, but it’s too much.

“Nonsense,” Alden scoffed. “What is an old
widower going to do with a dress? It is just gathering dust in a
closet here. You will make much better use of it.”

Morrigan couldn’t help but reach out to hug
Alden in gratitude before they parted. She was surprised by the
sincere emotions that touched her. She felt as though she was
leaving behind a lifelong friend, though she had known him only a
few hours.

“Thank you, Alden. You can’t imagine how much
this means to me.”

He returned the embrace and patted her on the
back reassuringly when a few tears snuck down her cheeks. “Do not
be sad, my dear,” Alden told her. “I am sure we will meet again. If
not in this life, then in the next. In the meantime, here is one
more token to remember me by.”

“More gifts?” she replied. “Really, Alden,
you have done so much already, I can’t take anymore.”

“I insist,” he said and slid the little
carved raven she had admired into her hand. “It is the symbol of
the Goddess Morrigan, who is your namesake, and I feel as though
She has moved me to make it yours. May it bring you luck and keep
you safe on your journey.”

“I will come back to visit,” she promised and
hugged Alden one last time. “As soon as this whole mess with my
mother is straightened out, I swear I’ll come back and thank you
properly.”

“Well, Princess,” Tiarn said once they were
finally on their way. “You certainly have a way of charming the
locals. First Condon and now Alden. They see something special in
you.”

Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “I’m nothing
special.” A part of her wished he would argue, but he didn’t.

They travelled silently after that, with
Morrigan struggling to keep up with the more athletic Tiarn. He
kept up a brisk pace effortlessly, while Morrigan panted and fought
against the stitch in her side and the throbbing of her feet. But
at least she got to admire the view. His solid legs and thighs were
a sight she would never grow tired of looking at. She wondered if
he realized she was staring at him again and shuddered at the
thought. She felt like she had done everything but throw herself
into his arms, and he still didn’t display the slightest interest
in her. Could her visions and dreams of love been wrong?

At least he was in a better mood than he had
been that morning. Morrigan thought the argument with her
grandmother and the time consuming visit with Alden would have
surely put him in a sour mood. But he whistled as he plodded
through underbrush and pushed aside tree branches. He even stopped
to wait for her a few times without complaining or insulting her in
his normal condescending fashion. The hours trickled by almost
pleasantly. The sun set on the horizon and the three moons
dominated the clear night sky once more. Eventually, they both
began to feel the wear and tear of their travels, and Tiarn
suggested they stop and rest for the night.

“I should try to find us some food,” he said.
He had produced a flint rock from his bag which he banged against
the side of his iron sword. With just a few quick clicks, the
tinder he had gathered sparked, and a warm fire was crackling in
seconds. Danu and Dagda curled up beside it, and after giving each
other a short bath, they immediately fell into a sound sleep. “The
little food I had, we finished off this morning, and I have not had
a chance to hunt since our return,” Tiarn admitted.

“If you want to take the night off, I brought
some food with me,” Morrigan offered, mostly because the thought of
him leaving her alone in the woods at night terrified her. “It’s
not much, but after that big meal at Alden’s, I’m not really hungry
anyway. Maybe some chips and sodas as a late night snack would be
enough to get us through the evening.”

“Chips and sooooodaaaaaaa?” he repeated the
last word in such a long winded way, it sounded almost ridiculous.
“I have never heard of these. From what animal does this meat come
from?”

Morrigan giggled. “No animals, silly. Chips
are made from potatoes, and soda is made from, well . . . I guess
it’s just water and syrup. It’s kind of like liquid sugar.”

Tiarn was not impressed. “Humph. Lycan do not
eat potatoes and sugar. Nor have we ever been referred to as
‘silly’. Yet, still.” He stroked the stubble on his chin. “I think
it would be best if I stay close by tonight. If Alden is correct
and the soldiers are nearby, I should not wander too far from our
campsite.”

Morrigan would have been happy if he never
wandered from her sight at all, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she
pulled out a few bags of chips and two cans of cola and thought how
wonderful it would be to have that extra weight removed from her
bag. Since the addition of the new clothing from Alden, it was
heavier than ever. She planned to change in the morning and just
leave her old clothes behind. They were shredded to pieces and
hardly travel worthy any longer. There would be even less to carry
in the morning. Maybe that would make the rest of the journey a
little easier.

Morrigan slipped a finger under the metal cap
of the soda can and had to resist the urge to laugh out loud when
Tiarn jumped a foot into the air at the sound of the cap popping
open. He dropped the bag of chips he was struggling to open and
reached for the hilt of his sword. Once he recovered his composure,
if not his dignity, she handed him the cola. Tiarn accepted the can
warily and sniffed the bubbles that leaked through the opening.
After a moment’s contemplation, he took a small sip of the sweet
liquid. He swished it around in his mouth for just a moment before
he spit in onto the ground in obvious horror.

“What magic is this, witch?” he demanded.
“Are you trying to poison me? I could feel this liquid moving on my
tongue!”

This time Morrigan couldn’t control it,
though she tried her best. The stifled laughter came out more like
a snort. “No magic,” she promised him. “Just carbonation.”

He still seemed wary, but after watching her
take a long sip from her own can, he started to relax. Before long
he had guzzled the whole thing and polished off two bags of chips.
As they ate, Morrigan stared up into the sky, again entranced by
the beauty of the night. The stars seemed to move and dance in the
heavens, brighter and closer than any she had seen before. She
couldn’t be sure if they were really brighter, or if it was just
the lack of streetlights and pollution that made them seem that
way.