Luathara - Book Three of the Otherworld Trilogy (41 page)

I nearly melted in relief.  I'd been so afraid they would meet our dilemma with anger and dissidence.

"It is clear she has tossed the first stone.  Now we must prepare for war, as soon as possible," Epona said, pounding her fist against the table.

"Yes
, it's
inevitable, but let's go about this with as much reason as possible," Lugh
adde
d.  “If we pool all of our resources and gather all the men and women willing to fight, we still stand a poor chance against the Morrigan and Donn and their ar
my of faelah.”

Cade's grandfather looked at me.  "While you and Caedehn were away, we sent word to our people.  We
won't receive as much help as we
'd previously hoped."

The room burst into worried argument, and I felt my magic stir in response to the frustration permeating the air.  My own panic was threatening to overtake me. 
When Cade and I had left Erintara, I'
d been
convinced
we stood a de
cent chance
.  Perhaps that was just another silly daydream on my part.

"Each of my men is worth fifteen faelah!"
Bowen
yelled angrily
, his voice carrying over the commotion.

In the aftermath of everything that had happened since the night of the dance, I'd almost forgotten about the young man.  He now sat next to his father, his dark eyes looking like they were on fire, his handsome face twisted with annoyance.

"And how can our combined power not be enough to defeat two Tuatha De?" Epona asked, her pale, flyaway hair taking on a life of its own.

"And what about my brother?" I added, but no one, except for Cade, heard me.

Lugh lifted an arm and tried to shout above everyone.  “Wait, quiet, please!  I’m not finished.”

Reluctantly, everyone quieted down.  I shot my mother a glance.  She sat regally, looking cool and calm, but her fingers were hooked around the ends of the armrests on her chair, her nails practically digging into the wood.  I knew exactly how she felt.

“The Morrigan alone we could handle.  As everyone knows, she recently spent most of her power trying to destroy Caedehn and Meghan.  She is weak, but she has two advantages over us.  First, she has Donn's aid.  The Lord of the Afterlife has been
soaking in
his glamour for centuries, allowing it to build up and become a nearly unstoppable force.  He hardly ever uses it, and frankly, he really doesn't need to use it.  If we assume he has given most, if not all, of his
powe
r to the Morrigan, then we have good reason to worry.  Secondly," he took a deep breath, one I doubted gave him much relief, "she has the high queen's son.  If we value his life at all, then we must act more carefully than before.  Despite these obstacles, however, we do have a few things at our disposal.”

And then the golden-haired god turned his gaze onto the Dagda.

“My Spear contains a bit of power, but not nearly enough to help us much.  And I will need it during the battle.  But Dagda, your Cauldron, it has been absorbing Eile’s magic for centuries, probably longer than Donn has been storing up his own power.”

Cade tensed up next to me and a knowing stillness permeated the room.  Wait, what was going on?

“Until recently.  I used it a few months ago to restore Caedehn."

"But it still contains an incredible amount of fae magic, am I correct?"

The Dagda sat up a little
straighter
in his chair and said careful
ly, his tone harder than usual,
"Yes.  What exactly are you suggesting?”

Lugh sighed and took the time to look at everyone sitting at the table.  When his pale eyes met the Dagda’s blue ones once again, he
drew
a deep breath and said, “I am suggesting that we borrow the magic from the Cauldron to strengthen the natural magic of our soldiers.”

An audible, unanimous gasp played across the room, but no one dared speak their opinions.

The Dagda’s jaw worked
and I could tell he was fighting against some emotion.

“If you take the magic out of the Cauldron,” Nuadu, said carefully, his deep voice rumbling through the silence, “then it cannot be used to regenerate the dead.”

Now I understood the reason for everyone's reaction.  And now I knew why I could feel my own blood growing cold.

Nuadu continued to run his fingers up the stem of his goblet.  He looked up from what he
was doing, his dark brown eyes
troubled.  “You would be able to make our men and women harder to kill, but once they died, they would stay that way.  You know the Cauldron would never regain enough power in time to save them.”

“Exactly how long would it take, to absorb enough power from Eile to work again?” my mother asked, her voice containing the slightest shake.

I t
rai
ned my eyes on her.  I was w
ondering the exact same thing.

The Dagda folded his hands and
then
press
ed his mouth against them.  I had never seen him look so troubled.  Finally, he took a
nother
deep breath, cast a regretful glance in my direction, and said, “A few hundred years.”

The room burst into conversation, partially angry, partially frantic.  All I could do was sit there, numb.  When my brain started working again, all I could think about was the epiphany I'd had the other night; the realization that we always had the Cauldron to fall back on.
  But if the Tuatha De agreed to drain the vessel's power, then the one thing I was counting on would no longer be available.

“Stop!” Lugh shouted, his frustration gradually transforming into anger.  “We have no other choice!”

“Yes, we do!” Epona growled, standi
ng up to face off her fellow Tua
tha De.  “We fight, as we are, with the power we have, and then use the Cauldron to regenerate those who fall!”

From the far end of the table Nuadu started chuckling, but it wasn’t the laughter of someone amused.  No, it was the laughter of someone
who pitied others for their ignorant foolishness
.

“Don’t you get it?” he said, his voice almost a whisper.  “This isn’t a band of renegade Fomorians like the last time.  This is the Morrigan and Donn.  The Celtic goddess of war and strife and the god of the dead.  If we don’t borrow the magic from the Cauldron before this war starts,” he continued, his voice growing in power, “then there won’t be enough of us
left
standing to drag the dead into the Cauldron to bring them back.  We ourselves, the Tuatha De, could be weakened so severely we might not be able to rise from the ground for several days.  By then it will be too late!”

A hush fell over the room as everyone absorbed what Nuadu had said.

The Dagda cleared his throat.  “He is right.  We have a better chance draining the magic from the Cauldron and dispersing it amongst our people now, than if we wait and try to revive them later.  It is the only chance we have of freeing your son.”

He lifted his eyes and gazed directly at my mother, sitting at the head of the table.  He was imploring her, his queen.  He and Lugh and Nuadu had laid it all out before her.  They had been honest and done their best to come up
with the
strategy
that would be the most likely to succeed
.  They were telling us, telling Danua, that the only chance we had against the Morrigan and Donn was to pull the power from the Cauldron and to give it to those who would be fighting.  It meant they would be more powerful.  It also meant
that
they had no chance of survival if they were struck down.  But they were leaving the decision up to her.  Perhaps this conversation would have ended differently if the Morrigan hadn't taken Aiden, but I couldn't let that distract me now.  We had absolutely no way of knowing Aiden's safety would have been part of this whole mess.  Well, at
least I had no way of knowing.

The Dagda released a great sigh.  “We have to accept that there will be sacrifices.  But I’m afraid it is the only way.”

Suddenly, the part of me that wanted to believe them because they were far more experienced at warfare than I went into hiding, and my emotional side clawed its way free for a split second. 
No!
  I wanted to shout
. 
N
o, mother, don’t agree to this!
  Fortunately, my rebellious thoughts stayed in my head.

It took Danua a long time to respond to the Dagda, and I could only imagine what was going through her mind.  We were not only fighting this war because the Morrigan insisted on it, but because she had something that was precious to the high queen and myself: Aiden.  If the Morrigan didn't have my little brother, would this choice be easier for her?  Whatever my mother decided, would she fear her personal attachment had driven her to that conclusion?  I wanted to save Aiden more than anything, but the Cauldron had proven to me o
nce just how important its magic was.

Finally, she squared her shoulders and glanced around the room.  “Very well.  We will go forward with the plan.  We will utilize the magic stored in the Cauldron, and pray that it is enough to defeat the Morrigan.”

“No!” I cried out, standing up out of my chair.

My protest went unnoticed, for I wasn’t the only one to make an outburst.  Everyone, save for my mother, the Dagda, Nuadu and Lugh had burst forth from their chairs, shouting or protesting in anger or disbelief.

Cade, who had remained sitting next to me, tried to draw me back into my seat, but I shrugged off his hands.  We could not borrow the magic from the Cauldron.  What if those who had less magic in them, everyone except for the Celtic gods, fell in battle?  They would die; they would be lost
forever.  Enorah, Cade . . . 
No
.  I gritted my teeth and fought the panic rising in my chest.  No, they couldn’t take away the one thing that would keep Cade alive if he was lost in the
fight
.  I couldn’t watch him die.  Again.

My magic flared in response to my emotional state, and that’s when it hit me, above all the clamor and chaos, one resounding thought
broke free
. 
Cernunnos's magic Meg, the
s
ecret you’ve been keeping all this time . . . perhaps now is the time to speak of it. 
You
can use
your
extra magic and
the Tuatha De
won't need to drain the Cauldron of its life-giving force.
 
Cernunnos had said I couldn't tell any Faelorehn men or women, but the Tuatha De weren't technically Faelorehn, were they?  And neither was Cade.  He was the son of a goddess and the grandson of Lugh.  Maybe that's why Cernunnos had been so adamant about reminding me who I couldn't tell.  Perhaps he was trying to give me a hint. 
My eyes grew round and my hands, which had been clenched at my sides, stopped shaking.  I licked my lips and opened my mouth to speak, but the words got caught in my throat.  Something, instinct perhaps, stopped me short.

And then some unseen force made me whip my head around
, my eyes hooking onto an earth-
brown gaze.  Cernunnos.  Amid all the gesticulating arms and booming voices, Cernunnos sat in his chair, as still as a hunter in the forest, his arms crossed and his eyes trained on me.  He didn’t send any words into my mind, something I was expecting at this point.  He only kept me still with that death glare of his, his mouth cut in a grim line, and gave a small shake of his head.  I knew what that meant. 
No, not now.  Not yet.  Remember, you must visit the Morrigan's lair first.
  I didn’t hear the words, but I knew he would have said them if he needed to.

I fell back into my seat, dropping my face into my hands in despair.  No.  This had to be the time!  It had to be
!
  They could use my extra magic instead of the Cauldron’s.

No Meghan
, that rich voice whispered across my mind,
my glamour
isn’t nearly
vast
enough to replace what the Cauldron can provide
.

I wanted to scream and leap across the table.  I wanted to take those stupid antlers and twist them and break his neck.  But I couldn’t.  He was immortal, in the most permanent sense.  He could not be killed, no matter what.  He was one of the elite few who would never die, even if taken down in battle or overcome by disease.  My anger flared then, and so did my magic.

Calm down Meghan, do not let my power unfurl.  Do not break your geis
.

He sounded concerned this time, as if he
really cared about my well-
being
. 
But
I couldn’t help that my magic was getting out of control.  I was
so
angry.  And it was so unfair.

Meghan!
he shouted into my mind
, and I jumped this time, lifting my tear-stained face to look at him.  He was glancing off to the side, but his jaw was tight, his face strained.