The Morrigan Sisters

Part 7

When I stride through the village, the sun is just setting, and yet everyone is still out. Many are rolling freshly cut logs towards burnt buildings and halls. Others are at the whetstone sharpening blades and swords. Others still run here and there, trundling their loads to different projects. I am not at first noticed, but then, the village is busy with rebuilding itself.

I stop at the edge of the square and look at the ravens perched on my shoulders. Babd on my right, Nemain on my left. I can tell them apart by the clouded eye on Babd and Nemain's shinier feathers, a sign of her relative youth. Nemain settles herself, her wickedly curved beak nipping at my ear, and Babd coos. I straighten and walk to the main hall, where I know my father will be.

Whispers and muted exclamations rise up as I walk, people sighting me and the birds on my shoulders. Perhaps news of my journey has spread. The heavy wooden door pulls open, easier than ever before. They said I will be strong; and in a shorter time than it had taken to ride, I had run from the Paps all the way home, the ravens flying overhead. I don't doubt the sisters. My sisters.

Padraig, Ferguson, Iwan and a few others – all seasoned warriors – are arranged around a table at the head of the room, talking to one another. They all look up when I enter.

"Aife," Da says, his voice echoing across the room. My heart swells as he stands from his chair and crosses the floor. He pulls up short when he sees the ravens. "Are those-?"

Babd and Nemain take off, flying up to roost in the rafters. Da looks back at me, eyes studying my face. He frowns. "Aife, you... there's somethin' different about ya."

But I ignore what he said and hug him, my face pressing into the coarse material of his tunic. To my relief, his arms wrap around me as well. Someone clears their throat, and we release each other. Ferguson has his arms crossed, casting glares at the black birds in the rafters.

"Aife, ya care ta explain what's goin' on 'ere an' why ya brought these animals inside?"

Fierce caws sound from both birds.

"They are not animals," I correct, feeling fiercely defensive myself. "They are Babd and Nemain."

"What can ya mean?" Padraig asks, and yet the confused look can't take away the love in his eyes. It hurts to see that now, because it means he will be hurt by my new choices of family.

"They are my sisters." The birds fly down and settle on my shoulders once again. I take a deep breath and add, "An' we are the Morrigan."

"You?" I look at Ferguson as he scoffs at me. "Ya ain't nothing but a wee child! An' we ain't seen ya but two days ago! I don' know what kin'a trick ya pullin', but I ain't fallin' fer it!"

The flutter of flapping wings whispers next to my ears, and the weight of the ravens becomes tight-gripped hands on my shoulders.

"If ya think this is a trick, boy, ya got somethin' comin' to ya," Babd cackles, her hand shaking with her laughter. Ferguson, and nearly every other man in the room, tumbles backwards in shock.

I look at my father, but he is once again staring at the women beside me.

"Da."

He looks at me, surprise written all over his face. "Aife, what did ya do?"

"What she had to," Nemain replies, and offers me a small grin. I try smiling back, but I am finding it hard to do so.

"I can secure our victory in this battle," I address the room of frightened men. "I ask that ya trust me in this. We will not fail."

Iwan speaks up for the first time since I entered the main hall. "I trust ya, Aife." I meet his eyes. He is proud. It radiates from him, and I can almost see it, a sheer red light just barely there to outline him. I nod, grateful that he isn't afraid of me or my choice. Babd squeezes my shoulder.

"You still're me daughter," Padraig says gruffly, although he does not meet my eyes. "I will follow ya."

Follow, not trust. But it is something. I haven't completely lost him. "Thank ya, Da."

Ferguson is staring at the three of us sisters like we are a wild fiend, ready to rip into him. And so I am most surprised to hear him say next, "I believe ya. Aife. I believe ya."

Eventually all the men nod or mumble their willingness to follow me. I reply solemnly, "We ride tomorrow."

And with one last look to my father as he stares at the floor, I leave the main hall with my sisters. When we walk out, people are no longer trying to be quiet about their surprise. A small child cries out, and many openly gasp or questioned us. I suppose the fact that I walked into the hall with two birds, and walked out with two strange women is something to fear. We ignore them, and instead go right for Iwan's building. Once inside, there is only to wait.

None of us sit. I no longer feel the need to, and they seem perfectly content to stare and sniff at the herbs and berries pinned to the walls.

Babd sniffs and turns to me. "Where does 'e keep his mistletoe? I don' see any in 'ere."

"He don' use it," I reply. "Don' believe in usin' poison to cure people."

"Bah," she mutters, and continues perusing the herb stock. Nemain says nothing, although I catch the smirk on her face.

"Aife?" Iwan is at the door. "May I have a word?"

I leave my sisters to stand beside him out in the evening mist, turned gold with the late sun. He studies my face until I am twingy with nerves. Only my mentor can make me quake like a leaf now. "Have I grown another face, er what?"

"Ya just seem..." He searches for a word. "Sharper."

"Birdlike, am I?" I ask nervously. Have I turned uglier? Do I have a beak? I touch my nose.

"Nay, only slender, like. Fierce." His hand clasps my arm reassuringly. "Like a warrior."

"I am Battle, afterall," I grin. 

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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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