The Morrigan Sisters

Part 3

At sunhigh, my father calls a gathering of his advisors into the great hall. Smoke tingles my nostrils when I walk into the blackened building. The fire had been put out before too much damage was inflicted. I am the last one to arrive, but the gathering has already begun.

"We need to retaliate!" Ferguson paces before the chair where my father sits, anger lacing his every move. He strikes out and knocks a goblet off the grand oak table, sending it and its contents spilling across the floor. "They struck cos we were complacent! We must avenge our loss, take back what is ours!"

His words ring off the walls of the main hall, and my jaw clenches as I take my seat. The ache in my head returns.

"I don' disagree with ya," my father replies slowly, fingers running through his streaked beard. "But we don' have the strength. They reduced us to 'alf our numbers in a single plight. How're we goin' te fight an entire clan when we are so badly wounded an' outnumbered?"

Ferguson scoffs, his rage boiling over again as he flings another goblet across the room.

"Trust me, brother," hisses Da as he stands, towering in his great height and menacing with the sword marks and scars across his arms. "I want revenge just as much as ya do, but I must think of ta safety o' our people first. We ain't goin' ta survive if we fight again so soon."

Iwan speaks up, his voice low, "Padraig, I cannot forsee anythin' fer our victory. The gods have forsaken us ta this slaughter. I ain't heard from dem in days."

I frown. I had not predicted any of this, but surely a fight so devastating to the lives of our people would have come in a dream or vision to Iwan? Yet there had been nothing. I've been training to consult smaller spirits, while Iwan consults the greater ones. He never told me they were not speaking back. "Forsaken us?"

"Aye," he replies, pushing off the wall across from me, twirling an oak twig between his fingers. He does not meet my eyes, but looks to my father. "They don' answer my prayers, and I ain't had any dreams since te full moon. I believe they have abandoned us."

"Then we ought to beseech them," I return. "There has te be one – just one, who'll be willin' te help us."

"Bah!" Ferguson scoffs, his face twisted with disgust. In that moment, despite being my father's brother, he looks nothing like the man, his features coarse and ugly unlike my Da's gentle brow and clear eyes. "Ya speak of the gods as if they give a fig about us. Well, I tell ya, they 'bandoned us a long time ago. No use tryina seek 'em now."

"What other choice do we 'ave?" I ask. "B'sides sittin' 'ere and let the Cruithni carry off our people, or get ourselves killed te get them back. I hear the Great Queens ain't above a bargain er two-"

"Absolutely not."

I look at my father. "Da..."

"No." He rises from his chair, jaw set and fists clenched. "I know what yer thinkin', Aife, an' I won' let ya do it."

"Da, ya don' know-"

"Ya ain't seekin' the Morrigan!"

I expel a forceful breath to calm myself. "Da, if ya would just listen, ya would see reason."

"Reason?" he says softly. His eyes are sad, and I know he is seeing me as the small child he had raised after Ma died, and I knew he is seeing my sister being dragged away by the Cruithni. "Ye'd be chasin' a ghost, Aife. No one's seen the Morrigan sisters an' lived, and I wouldn't want ya ta be the one ter find 'em. They bring nothin' but trouble, the hags. And... and I ain't losin' me other daughter."

"I have te do somethin'," I practically beg. That hole is opening up in my chest again. I know he doesn't want to lose me, much like I don't want to lose him. But if we do nothing, Brendolyn will be gone for good. "Tis my fault Bren was taken. I owe it te her te try. Please, Da."

He gulps, then looks at Iwan. "You know more 'bout ta gods than I. What's yer say in this?"

Iwan says nothing, but clamps a hand on my shoulder and pierces me with his stare. He has given me the look before – when I cast a spell wrong, or forget an ingredient to a salve. He wants an explanation.

"Bren an' near half our people're gone or dead. If I can get the Morrigan ta help us, ta be on our side, then we'd be near unstoppable." I look at my father, at Ferguson seething on the edge of the room, and finally back at the man who'd taught me everything I know. "Tha Morrigan're haggish, but they ain't pitiless."

"That might be so," Iwan says slowly, "but they ain't generous, either. They'll want somethin' of ya. Least of all, yer life. There ain't ne'er reasonin' with 'em."

I stamp my foot, feeling like a scolded child. "If it means helpin' with this fight an' gettin' our people back, then I'm willin' ta give it."

Everyone is silent after that. Finally Da sets his hand on my other shoulder, a sad smile across his face. "Never was in yer spirit te give up, I know. Yer sister's the same way. As was yer ma." I nod, and he continues. "All I can ask is that ye come back in one piece."

I nod again. "I will, Da. Ye have my word."

He embraces me swiftly. "You ought ta get ready, then. I'll leave ya to it."

And with that, he walks away, gnarled fingers combing his beard and eyes on the floor. Iwan squeezes my shoulder and offers a wan grin. We leave the main hall.

Rogan is outside waiting, and comes up to us once we are past the doors. "What happened? Are we goin' ta fight or what?"

"I'll let ya two discuss it, then," Iwan says, heading off through the burned ruins of the village toward his home. "Aife, when yer done, I'll help ya prepare."

Rogan looks at me. "Prepare fer what?"

I am almost ashamed for leaving. But I have to do this, I need to. I owe it to my people, to my sister. So I straighten my shoulders and say, "We cannot fight the Cruithni on our own, so I'm goin' ta find tha Morrigan sisters and ask fer their help."

"The Morrigan?" His voice drops and his dark brows pull together. "Are ya serious?"

"Do ya think I would be lyin' about this?" I shake my head, tugging on my tunic, but Rogan grasps my hands. I meet his gaze, but he is not angry, perhaps worried. "I'll be back on the morrow. The Paps're less den a day's ride. If I leave now, I can make b'fore sundown."

His eyes roam my face as he says, "Be careful, me love."

"Everyone says that," I tease. "I don' know why."

He gives my cheek a kiss. "Cos we know ya, Aife. Ya only think after all the fightin's over."

I squeeze his hands before leaving him next to the main hall.

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Thank you for reading!

This short story has been published, among others, in an anthology titled New Legends: Caster, Castle and Creature, which is available online for purchase, as well as in major bookstores.

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