Morrigan (7 page)

And the sky! It was beyond magnificent. Not
one, not two, but three moons captivated the night. Each was in a
different phase—crescent, full, and waning. They stood side-by-side
in the heavens like three magical sisters. The stars around those
moons were so close, she wanted to reach out her hand and touch
them. Before she had time to try—before she had time to admire the
unfathomable beauty of the land of Tír na NÓg—two angry looking
soldiers stepped out of the shadows and into their paths. They
sneered and looked her over with pure malice.

“Well, well, look here. The witch’s bastard
daughter has returned.”

Morrigan gasped and took an inadvertent step
closer to Tiarn. The men must have had Dunham’s cottage staked out.
Luckily, it didn’t take Tiarn long to react. Within seconds he had
pulled his sword from the sheath, but Morrigan still felt her heart
pound with fear as the guards inched their way closer.

“Damn it all! Looks like we have encountered
the first of those interruptions,” Tiarn whispered as he placed
himself strategically between Morrigan and their assailants. “Stay
close behind me, Princess, and be prepared to run if things do not
go well.”

Morrigan nodded and tried to swallow past the
lump in her throat as the two barbaric looking soldiers approached
them. They had the look of savages, despite their shining suits of
armor and gold-bordered shields that bore the crest of a white owl.
Maybe it was the bloodlust of many battles or maybe all the men in
this new world were mangy and unkempt. Whatever the reason, the two
threatening men were as grotesque as they were dangerous with their
scarred faces, oil-slicked hair, and war-beaten swords.

Morrigan was trembling with terror, but Tiarn
hardly seemed phased. He wore his cocky smirk openly as he looked
at his two approaching adversaries and goaded them forward with
reckless casualty. “Two against one,” he muttered. “Well, boys,
those odds hardly seem fair. Why not wait until a few more of your
comrades arrive, so you have at least a sporting chance at
victory.”

“Silence, dog! Hand over the girl and perhaps
we shall let you live.”

The gruff voice of the soldier froze Morrigan
on the spot. It was no less intimidating than the appraising stare
of his fellow man at arms. She backed up against a tree and prayed
Tiarn would live up to his boasting. She knew these men meant her
harm in more ways than one. They would have their way with her
before they killed her if the opportunity presented itself.
Morrigan was relieved to see Tiarn wasn’t willing to let that
happen. He stayed close to her side, doing his best to block her
from their view. She knew she should have been helping him, and she
tried to focus and call her powers to the surface, but in the time
of her greatest need, her magic seemed to have deserted her.

“You will take this girl only when you step
over my cold, dead body,” Tiarn informed them with a growl. “I have
sworn an oath to protect her. I shall guard that oath with my very
life if that is what it takes.”

The second soldier tore his gaze away from
Morrigan just long enough to let loose a dry chuckle. “The oath of
a lycan holds even less value than its worthless hide. Now move
aside before we take that hide and skin it!”

“I dare you to make good on that threat,”
Tiarn challenged.

The soldiers moved in closer. Morrigan’s
heart hammered with fear—the first true fear she had ever known. It
was more real than the fear of her unkind peers or even her
sometimes abusive foster parents—more real because that fear was
for Tiarn, whom she loved so desperately. The thought of a world
without him was too terrible to imagine. It seemed a definite
possibility as she watched the tips of the swords rise up, almost
in slow motion, and flicker threateningly in the bright moonlight.
Both the soldiers and Tiarn took a step closer to each other, ready
to begin the duel.

Morrigan squeezed her eyes shut and waited
for the harsh clash of metal against metal. The sound never came.
Instead, she heard the most unexpected and unimaginable thing. It
was the loud, audible rumble of a very large and angry animal. At
first she thought perhaps Tiarn had forgotten his vow to forsake
his wolf self and had transformed. The growl was followed by the
distinguishable hiss of a territorial cat, quickly multiplied by
two.

Morrigan opened her eyes just in time to see
Danu and Dagda flying through the air. In mid-leap, they began a
shocking but miraculous transformation. Their small furry paws grew
in mass and volume, their bodies lengthened, becoming large and
muscled. Their fangs extended, and their sharpened claws grew as
pointed as swords. Their brief flight ended with them landing
directly in front of Morrigan and Tiarn, snarling and hissing at
the amazed soldiers whose faces instantly drained of color as the
animals approached.

The little cats Morrigan loved had vanished,
replaced by a sleek black-coated panther and a glorious striped
tiger. Both were more massive than any of the large cats she had
ever seen on field trips to the zoo, and both appeared more
dangerous than any beast in the wilds of nature. With fangs barred
and loud, guttural snarls, they each took down one of the soldiers
before they had a moment to react. As horrified as she was relieved
that she was safe, Morrigan had to turn away from the bloody
carnage as the cats tore into the men’s arms and legs.

She couldn’t say how long she stood there,
still as a statue, desperately trying to block out the painful
screams. She was certain the cats were going to tear the men to
pieces without remorse. As soon as the soldiers surrendered the
fight and dropped their weapons, the large cats backed away,
allowing the injured men to crawl back into the safety of the
forest from which they had emerged. The battle was over quickly,
and they were out of danger for the moment. Nevertheless, Morrigan
felt sick and faint.

“Guardians!” The whistle of the air as Tiarn
sheathed his unused sword caught her attention. He mumbled a curse
under this breath. “I should have known they would ruin all my fun.
They just could not leave well enough alone. They always have to
show off.”

“You knew . . . .” Morrigan stuttered, still
shocked. “You knew they could . . . they could do . . . that?”

“I knew they could annoy me and get in my
way, if that is what you mean.”

“You knew they could transform into . . .
into.”

The whole episode seemed almost dreamlike.
She had to wonder if at any moment she would wake up in her bed to
find everything had been a dream—or maybe a nightmare.

Tiarn rolled his eyes at her inability to
articulate. “Of course I knew. They are Guardians. They would
hardly be much use at guarding you if they were nothing but mere
house cats. Of course, it was not necessary. I had the situation
well under control. I could have handled those two soldiers without
any interference from your pets.” He practically spat the last
word. Morrigan couldn’t believe it, but it sounded like he was
disappointed he hadn’t been able to shed the blood himself. “You
two must learn your place.”

He was addressing the cats now, and they were
only cats again. Small, regular cats that looked up at him with
pure disgust as they licked their paws clean. Licked them clean of
blood, Morrigan noted with horror.

That was just too much for her to take. She
finally lost the thin layer of composure she had been clinging to.
She felt her eyes close, and her shaking legs gave way as she fell
unconscious to the ground.

“Wake up, Morrigan!”

The voice sounded dim and far away. It must
have been one of her foster brothers yelling at her to get up for
school. Morrigan was actually grateful for a change. They were
waking her from a terrible nightmare about big cats, werewolves,
and dirt soaked with blood. The voice didn’t sound like her
all-American foster brothers. It was deeper, more appealing, and it
had a strange, indistinguishable accent.

“Get up, Princess!”

Morrigan’s eyes snapped open. She was staring
into the beguiling face of the lycan, Filtiarn. He stood over her,
watching with a look of mingled concern and annoyance. Apparently
the annoyance won out because before she knew what was happening,
he had lifted up his canteen and poured a stream of ice cold water
directly into her face.

Shocked and gasping for breath, Morrigan
leaped to her feet. She coughed, sputtered, and glared at Tiarn and
his still dripping lambskin. “What did you do that for? I was
getting up!”

“I am dreadfully sorry, Your Majesty,” Tiarn
lamented, even though both his tone and his wicked smirk told her
he was anything but sorry. “I only wanted to be certain you were no
longer feeling faint. It is important that we be on our way. We
need to reach the cover of the deep woods before more soldiers are
summoned.”

“More soldiers?” She swallowed hard as she
dried her soggy face on the sleeve of her sweater. “How many more
are around, do you think?”

“As many as Queen Arianrhod can spare, I dare
say, which is probably hundreds. It was her banner which the men
bore on their shields. With your mother and grandmother captured,
they have little else to occupy their time. You are the only threat
left.”

“I’m hardly a threat,” Morrigan argued. “I
only came here to find my mother.”

“Regardless of how you see yourself, you are
still a witch of the royal line, and in Arianrhod’s eyes that makes
you dangerous,” Tiarn explained. “That’s why we should get as far
away from Dunham’s cottage as possible. Obviously Arianrhod knew we
would have to come through the portal eventually, since that is the
only way to enter Tír na NÓg. There will be more soldiers nearby.
The ones who found us were probably just the scouts. When they
alert their comrades to our arrival, more soldiers will come. This
is why we need to get into the woods where we will have at least a
small chance of eluding them.”

Tiarn didn’t wait for her to agree or
disagree, and Morrigan was too tired and still a little too queasy
to argue with him. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders and
followed him off the stoned pathway and into the darkness of the
woods. The high trees blocked much of the light the three moons had
afforded. Tiarn had to use his lantern to guide their way through
the thick underbrush. Morrigan stayed close behind him. She jumped
every time a branch snapped or a cricket chirped for fear that
legions of armed warriors would emerge from the shadows and ambush
them. Thankfully, they made it deep into the forest with no
interruptions.

For a while, Morrigan enjoyed the music of
the night. Nocturnal birds and chirping insects serenaded them as
they traveled, and the gentle breeze seemed to hum in harmony. But
it was a long road, and it didn’t take long for her to grow tired.
Morrigan had no idea what time it was in this world, but back in
Maryland, the sun had to be coming up. She had gone the entire
night without sleep, unless she counted the few minutes she was
unconscious when she had fainted. She wasn’t sure how much longer
she would be able to make it without some rest, but she didn’t want
to give Tiarn the satisfaction of hearing her whine. Yet, she
started to lose that resolve when her legs began to drag from the
weight of her backpack, which felt like it was filled with
boulders. She was just about to beg for a break, when Tiarn finally
dropped his equipment on the ground.

“We will camp here for the night,” he
announced. “It is late, and I am sure you must be weary.”

“Not at all,” Morrigan lied and tried to hold
back a yawn. “I can keep going if we need to.”

“It seems your feline friends disagree.”
Tiarn gestured to the cats who had already curled themselves up
into one big snoring ball of fur.

Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I
guess it won’t hurt to take a little breather.”

Tiarn was already unrolling a pair of animal
skins he had taken out from his pack. He tossed one at Morrigan,
who caught it easily. Luckily, she had good reflexes. Tiarn seemed
surprised, though he tried hard to hide it. His seeming respect for
her was short lived. Morrigan couldn’t help but crinkle her nose in
distaste as dust poured off the ratty bedding.

“I can’t sleep on this,” she complained.
“It’s filthy.”

“Humph.” Tiarn grunted and curled his lip.
“You call that filthy! You obviously do not know the meaning of the
word. That place we just came from—what do you call it? Baltimore?
Cement covering the Goddess’ green earth. Wires blocking the view
of Father Skye. Pollution making it difficult to breathe, and
litter everywhere you look. That was filth. The dust on those
blankets is just good old-fashioned dirt. Honest to goodness,
deliciously clean dirt! You should revel in it, Princess! The bed
where you shall lay your head this night is the cleanest and purest
you have rested on in many moons.”

Morrigan listened to his tirade in stunned
silence. She wanted to be annoyed, indignant. Who did he think he
was lecturing to? But he was right. Even more importantly than
that, she had actually enjoyed his speech. It made him that much
more irresistible. She couldn’t help but smile.

“I stand corrected.”

She rolled out her sleeping mat and snuggled
underneath the animals’ furs. They were surprisingly warm and cozy.
She had slept in worse beds in some of the foster homes she had
been in. What could be better than a night under the stars,
surrounded by the beauty of nature? As she lay there, she realized
she no longer felt tired. After a few minutes of tossing and
turning, she gave up on sleep and pulled out her sketchbook.
Apparently Tiarn wasn’t sleepy either. He had built a fire and was
fiddling absently with a stick as he basked in the glow of the warm
flames. He grew curious when he saw her rubbing her pencil over the
thick paper and peeked over her shoulder.