Feast of Fates (Four Feasts Till Darkness Book 1) (88 page)

“While Brutus cannot be ignored, the West must guard itself against Menos as well,” advised Thackery. “I shall tell you of what Caenith and I saw in Blackforge.”

From there, the company threw itself wholly into the conspiracies threatening Geadhain. Thackery explained the operations under way north of the Blackforge, which were worrying, given Galivad’s description of the Iron City’s incredible rebound from calamity. There would be no stalling the Iron engine of war; on it would march to Eod, immortals and their blood feuds be damned. Word must reach Queen Lila, then, so that she could entrench her city for battles on two fronts. To this end, Rowena produced a farspeaking stone, which solved many of their concerns over how to communicate the grim news to the West. Quickly then, the sword moved to find privacy and make contact with her mistress. Rowena returned to the others more troubled than when she had left. “Queen Lila knows,” she confessed, and the misery and sighs made their rounds. Already, Her Majesty had been informed of Magnus’s defeat. Lila had sensed it, of course. Rowena had felt a depth of pain in that revelation that could not possibly be conveyed in the short whispers of speech from a magikal stone. She yearned to be with her queenmother and hated that she had to be spans away from a woman who surely needed every compassion. Not all was dark on Eod’s horizon, however, for the king’s hammer, Erik, had made it back from the battlefield through an act of tremendous magik, and he had not stopped for praise of his survival, but immediately started with the city’s repairs from the great storm—which had spared no corner of Geadhain, it seemed—and its subsequent fortifications against the next. Thus, while Eod was imperiled, it would not be caught unaware. Such tidings brought the first rush of relief to the company, and they could pick at the well-done rabbit after that.

In more measured tones, then, and with the pleasantness of food, the company deliberated where they themselves would fall in this web of events. Rowena and Galivad’s orders were clear: they were to head to Blackforge and investigate the extent and power of Menos’s forces there, and then report to Eod with haste. The others around the fire were not as set in their decisions. Although physically present that eve, Kanatuk could not have been more absent from these grand discussions on kings and wars. The stars caught his attention more often than any of the talk; his gaze followed the shining heavenly paths to the North, and Morigan could feel his longing like a tidal pull. His desire to return to a quieter place.
He will leave
, she realized.
And I cannot ask him to stay
. The old soul with whom she had communed in the Dreaming was no less afflicted with wanderlust. Macha stayed near to Kanatuk, attracted to his withdrawnness and giving leery stares to the woods.
She will go with him, for Alabion is no place for her, and she is terrified of it. He can make them a home in the cold bright reaches of the world where they might never see darkness again
, remarked Morigan. Prophecy was spilling from her like water from a broken well: these were not guesses, but probabilities. Next, the silver eyes cast their perception upon the father and daughter playing with a deck of brightly colored cards by the fire.
I think you have more caring and honor in you than you know, Mouse. You have discovered family, and that tiny flame inside you—love—will grow grander than you can imagine. You will be fierce and fight for what you have found. You will walk with us, for we are a part of what you cherish now
. The bees buzzed to Thackery after that; he was huddled with Queen Lila’s agents and shaking a rabbit bone at them as if they were learning a vital lesson.
You, my father from Eod, you will follow me to the end of all this. I wish you would not, for I fear that the journey may claim you. Do not go there, my silver servants
, she had to warn her hungry bees.
Some mysteries, like the hourglass of a man’s death, are sacred. But I shall not steer another’s fate. All choices are our own, even if the pattern of destiny seems preordained. Come with me, then, and if there is to be a passing, it shall be one bright from the memories we have made in togetherness
.

Morigan watched the lively old man for a while until tears blurred her vision. She was nearly done with her reflections when she spotted the slim shadow of the foxy man wavering through the flames. For the entirety of
their council, he had been silent, and it had been quite easy to forget that he was even among them. They had spoken with reckless freedom in front of this man, this Voice, and yet she did not fear for his keeping or selling of their secrets. Curious, her swarm migrated across the flames to feed on this enigma. Yet past her base instincts, he was as elusive as the twists in the fire, and the only thing that they returned to their mistress with was that same sense of amusement that he had exuded when she had met him before.
And who are you, trickster? What hand do you have in all of this? For while I can attribute myself for drawing these fates to this fire, you are a shade responsible yourself. What are your secrets? Whom do you serve?

Alastair winked at her, as if he knew what she was thinking, and the startled Morigan pressed against the flesh of her bloodmate.

You are filled with suspicion and a delicate sorrow, my Fawn
, said the Wolf.
I feel you grieving and questioning the world around you. There is no need for confusion. There is no need to stare into the future if it troubles you
.

Morigan tensed.
But I know where we have to go
.

Alabion, yes. All roads have brought us here, no clearer a path could there be. My past, your past. Thackery’s cottage lies just through the bush not far from here. He led us here like an old dog finds its home. Many fates, all woven on the looms of the Ladies of the Wood. Patterns that have seemed so tangled are really only formed by a master Will. We shall answer their summons, then, these Sisters. We shall see what they say, and if we do not care for their answers, then we shall make our own
.

Yes, we shall
, Morigan decided.

For she was no more a slave, no more an idle chronicler. She was the Daughter of Fate, and if she could partake in destiny, then she could shape it, too. The Sisters could not be alone in that power. The light of her surety was a golden surge: a tickling wind that passed through and over Caenith.

At last, the animal that Geadhain should fear
, praised Caenith.
The Queen of Fang and Claw
.

There are no queens in Alabion
, replied Morigan, smiling.

Tonight, the first has been crowned
.

As the night thickened, and the woods of Alabion pressed over the small campfire with their eerie calls and long shadows, the company sought what fellowship they could. Even though they were so different in purpose and
spirit, they scraped up every enjoyment to be found. They banished the darkness with their laughter, for Galivad was a rousing and comical storyteller. Songs came out again, funny ones at first, the sort of tavern slang not appropriate for a child, so it was good that Macha could not understand them—she clapped and smiled anyway. They did not address the hollow gleam in one another’s eyes. They brushed away the dim ache in their stomachs that rabbit and fruits could not fill. They did not dwell on these maladies, which were not sicknesses but a knowing of this fragile moment before the coming uncertainty. When they went to lay their heads, though, these thoughts and others could not be quieted and haunted their minds. For in the morning, paths were to be committed to, and partings were to be made.

After the morning, some of them would never see one another again.

EPILOGUE

“O
oh, settle those feet!” cursed Elemech.

Little Eean was restless today, kicking her mother’s womb and tugging on her cord. Even in her unformed state, Eean must have sensed the spinning of destiny’s threads and was reacting to them. Ealasyd delicately placed the spider she was playing with on a leaf of the nearest bush and went over to her sister, who sat on the rock she so often favored and was squinting into the morning. The youngest sister placed her hands upon Elemech’s stomach, whispered to the life inside and then looked to her elder.

“She should be quiet for a while,” said the girl. “I’ve promised her a story later.”

Elemech stroked Ealasyd’s golden hair. “Thank you. Now a bit of silence from you, too, while I speak to the woods.”

At those words, her spirit was already flying like a golden shimmer along the rays of sunlight, dancing over the eaves and then swooping down into the earthy mist of the woods, where it skipped as a fluttering presence from flea to tree, bear to leaf. She soon had crossed uncountable spans and slipped into the tight skull of a hawk. From there, she could watch the borders of her lands, where a company was breaking.
Two shadows to the North, one bright as the star that rules there—we shall see her again. What a glorious soul. Three shadows to the West. Five facing our woods: a wise man, a thief, a dead man, the lord of Alabion, and our errant sister
—

“What did you say?” demanded Ealasyd.

Elemech was flung back into her flesh by the disruption and gentle shoves of her sister. She must have been speaking her vision aloud. However much she had uttered, it was enough to upset Ealasyd, and the girl’s face was red and knotted. Mothering had given Elemech a wealth of patience and taken all her cold retorts away; she realized what was wrong and would address it. Kindly, she explained.

“My youngling, you are confused, when really you have only forgotten. Such is the curse of ever being a child: your mind is always hither and thither. Chasing butterflies and daydreaming. Reality runs out of your ears like warm honey. I do not blame you for not remembering.”

“Remembering what?”

“Your sister.”

“I count three sisters, and all of them are right here,” said Ealasyd. “You are speaking out of tune like that nattering sparrow that comes here from time to time.”

“I am not, dear one. You have another sister. Half of our blood, half of another’s.”

Fast as a flipped coin, Ealasyd’s anger transformed into joy. “I do?”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, tell me about her, Elemech! Please!”

Up she came into Elemech’s strong arms and cradled herself against the hard, stirring lump of her unborn sister, who, too, was interested in a tale and had been promised one. Elemech began her story, and the birds and mice flocked round to hear, the bugs froze on their leaves to listen, and all around the Sisters were still. What a grand tale did the ancient sister weave, so thrilling—and sad—that the mice were upon their hinds and squealing, the birds were flapping their wings, and the bugs were cheering with their clacking teeth. Ealasyd applauded, too, even though she would forget most of it in an hourglass. Though not her new sister’s name.
That
she would trace in the mud of the cave and make songs of so that it would never flee from her mind again, and so that they could greet each other when soon they met.

Morigan.

—
Fin
—

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