Morrigan (34 page)

“You will pay for your disrespect!” Ceridwyn
swore. “And believe me when I tell you there are punishments far
worse than death.”

“Leave the girl alone!” Arianrhod yelled,
even as she still struggled to set herself free from the fraying
ropes. “The battle is between us!”

“Are you as blind as that? This has nothing
to do with you! Stealing the throne from you was only the beginning
of our plans. One way or another, before this night is through, I
will be more than just a queen! I will be a Goddess!”

“What?” Arianrhod’s eyes widened and she
paled. “You cannot be serious, Ceridwyn! The prophecy is a myth.
The only immortality we can achieve is that which is born of the
eternal spirit. And with your very words and actions you are
poisoning your soul for lifetimes to come!”

“Perhaps you should be more concerned with
your own soul, my dear sister,” Ceridwyn said sarcastically. “Once
this ritual is complete, your sweet little soul will be devoured by
the darkest of demons.”

“Oh, Ceridwyn.” Arianrhod wept and Morrigan
realized her cheeks were damp as well. “How have you fallen so far?
I know we loved each other once.”

“Enough—all of you!” Hecate screamed. “There
is no time for this foolishness! There is no time!”

“Mother,” Arianrhod pleaded. “Please, I am
your child as well. You cannot do this to me!”

Hecate grabbed the crystal dagger from
Ceridwyn and silenced her elder daughter by slamming the hilt of
the athame into her temple. Arianrhod’s eyes rolled drunkenly and
closed. Her arms fell limp onto the altar. Bravely, Morrigan forced
her shaking legs to stand, and she faced her mother and
grandmother.

“This isn’t going work!” Morrigan told them.
“I’m not going to help you. You can’t complete your damn ritual
without me. And I don’t care if you kill me, I won’t be a part of
this!”

Ceridwyn gave her an almost amused
half-smile. “You little fool,” she said. “Yes, it may have been
slightly more powerful if the maiden made the kill, but do not
believe for an instant you need to be a willing participant in this
ceremony. The link between us was already formed the moment you
completed the triad in the dungeon. Now we need only to touch your
hand for the energy of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone to flow
between us.”

Even as she spoke, Ceridwyn wrapped her
fingers in a vice-like grip. Morrigan struggled, but before she
could raise her other hand in defense, Hecate already had her claws
digging into her flesh. Morrigan was dizzy and overwhelmed by the
unbelievable surge of power that erupted between them. The other
times they had joined forces, it had been her choice, and they had
fed each other’s power. Now her mother and grandmother were sucking
the energy from her like psychic vampires, leaving her weak and
defenseless, while their own powers grew to an almost orgasmic
high. Even though Arianrhod had begun to stir again, there was no
chance she was going to overpower her mother and sister now they
were reaching their magical peak. Try as she might, Morrigan was
not strong enough to break free from the older witches who held her
ensnared.

“No, you can’t do this!” Morrigan cried. She
twisted her arms to squirm free, but that only made them grip her
tighter. Hecate’s long sharp nails were starting to draw blood.
“Agghhh!” she cried out. “Let me go, let me go!”

“Shut your infernal mouth, girl!” Hecate
screeched and elbowed her in her sore ribs. “And perhaps we shall
give you a decent cell to spend eternity in when all of this is
over.”

“Hag!” Morrigan screamed.

She tried in vain to reach down and bite the
wrinkled hand that held her captive, but when that proved
impossible, she spat in Hecate’s direction. Even though her face
was still covered, the crone was infuriated. With an audible snarl,
Hecate used her free hand to tear the veil away and wipe off the
spittle. Morrigan looked again into her twisted and haggard face.
Eyes black as coal and just as lifeless peered back at her, while
her dry lips and broken teeth twisted in fury. Hecate smacked her
upside her head so hard her ears rung.

“Impudent wench!” Without taking a breath,
she turned to Ceridwyn. “We must do this now! Time is short. Give
the ritual blade to me! I shall do the deed myself. You must keep
your wretched spawn in line. We cannot afford any more delays!”

“Yes,” Ceridwyn whispered. She handed her
mother the crystal dagger, and in unison, the three witches looked
up at the mother moon, which was inching away from the opening of
the cavern. “Yes, we must do it now! We have only minutes left. Do
it, Mother! Kill her, kill her now!”

Hecate took a few steps closer to the altar,
dragging Morrigan along so as not to break the chain, while
Ceridwyn concentrated on keeping her restrained. Morrigan was the
center link between them that held them all together; she kept the
intense power flowing. She couldn’t break free, and there were only
seconds left before Arianrhod died at the hands of her own
bloodthirsty grandmother. Hecate was clutching the athame like a
well-earned trophy, preparing for the kill. Arianrhod, though
dazed, opened her eyes just as her mother raised the ritual dagger
above her head.

“Mother!” Arianrhod sobbed. “Please, no!”

Hecate’s lips twisted into a sarcastic grin.
“You always were a pathetic child. Is it any wonder I chose your
sister as my heir?”

Arianrhod closed her eyes as she waited for
the blow. Morrigan had to turn away as Hecate thrust the crystal
blade toward her daughter’s heart. It was only milliseconds before
Hecate struck the blow that a large gray wolf came barreling
through the sacred circle of stones. It leapt through the air,
landed on Hecate, and knocked the enraged crone to the ground.

“Sacrilege!” Hecate screeched and dropped the
crystal dagger as she attempted to fend off the attack. “Blasphemy!
Get this beast off of me! Remove it from the sacred caverns!”

Tiarn was dragging the crone from the circle
by the sleeve of her gown, but Hecate wasn’t making it easy for
him. She kicked and screamed with a fury and strength that
shouldn’t have been possible for a woman of her age. When the black
lace finally gave way, he was forced to go for her flesh. Hecate
screamed again as fangs tore at her wrinkled skin. Tiarn, even in
his most powerful form, struggled to keep her from breaking free.
Hecate kept reaching toward a scabbard on her ankle, but she
couldn’t quite manage it.

Ceridwyn and Morrigan forgot their own
struggles for a moment as both stared in wonder and shock as the
wolf battled with the ancient witch. As soon as the connection with
her grandmother was broken, Morrigan instantly felt more in control
of herself, more grounded. She was still terrified. At the same
time, she felt an almost euphoric sense of hope. It was the first
time she had seen Tiarn in wolf form, and it was a glorious sight
to behold. Never had she seen a more majestic animal. His thick fur
was a dark gray tinged with streaks of silver. He snarled as he
fought, revealing fangs the color of polished ivory. He was
beautiful, and even if she had never known he was a lycan, she
still would have recognized him as her dark knight. Behind the
animal guise, her Tiarn was still there. She saw his very human
soul reflected in the deep yellow eyes of the great wolf, and she
felt her love brim over despite the perils they faced.

“Damn you and your fool lap dog!” Ceridwyn
cursed, forcing Morrigan to tear her eyes away. “He will ruin
everything!”

Ceridwyn threw down Morrigan’s hand and moved
to help Hecate. Morrigan knew Tiarn would never be able to take on
both witches at once. Especially since he had the ample opportunity
to go for Hecate’s throat, but he never took advantage of it.
Instead, he tried to wrestle her into submission with his strong
paws. Morrigan was trying to think of a good way to distract
Ceridwyn from assisting Hecate when Arianrhod beat her to it.

“It is already over, Ceridwyn!” the rightful
queen cried from the altar. “Look to the sky! The time has passed.
Your fool games have come to an end!”

Ceridwyn glanced first at her sister, then up
toward the moon. Morrigan followed her line of vision and saw
Arianrhod was right. High above them, the full moon had vanished.
Only the waxing moon was visible through the cavern window. When
she realized what had happened, Ceridwyn’s cry resembled the
deafening shriek of a banshee. Above them, the stalactites shook
and a few loose pieces of rock and crystal sprinkled down onto
their heads. Even Tiarn and Hecate paused briefly in their battle
as her cry of outrage echoed through the cave.

“Too late!” she bellowed. “We are too
late!”

“Serves you right, Mother!” Morrigan almost
laughed. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve!”

“You!” Ceridwyn bent down to retrieve the
crystal dagger. She took a few steps in Morrigan’s direction. “I
should have killed you at birth!”

“Why didn’t you?” Morrigan demanded. “Why
bring me into this world when you obviously never cared about me at
all?”

“I needed a child of my own line to complete
the prophecy. Of course, I never wanted a screaming babe clinging
to my skirts. That is why I sent you away. I did not wish to deal
with you any more than was absolutely necessary. Oh, I knew I had
made a mistake when I allowed that fool Connelly to sire you, but I
certainly wasn’t going to risk my beauty to birth yet another
unwanted brat.”

Morrigan hung her head, unwilling to let her
mother see the grief her words caused her. She didn’t understand
why she still craved her love. Until that moment, a part of her
wished her mother cared for her, at least in some small way.

“She was no mistake!” Arianrhod told
Ceridwyn. “The Goddess knew what She was doing when She created
her. She had your daughter inherit both the heart and the wisdom of
her father. None of your evil has touched her soul! It is just as
it was meant to be!”

“Is that so, Sister?” Ceridwyn asked
bitterly. She forgot Morrigan for a moment and moved closer to the
crystal altar where Arianrhod was bound. “I have had enough of you
and your wisdom. Do not for a moment think you have stopped me from
fulfilling the prophecy. You have only delayed the inevitable! I
will find another suitable sacrifice from the royal line for the
next ceremony. I may still need the girl, but you, Arianrhod, you
die tonight!”

Ceridwyn lifted the blade, and again it was
aimed at Arianrhod’s heart. The queen did not cry or beg, but held
her sister’s gaze bravely in the face of death. Arianrhod was tied
down and could do nothing to save herself. Without thinking,
Morrigan threw herself between them.

Tiarn whimpered in the distance when he saw
she was in danger, but he was too far away to stop her. She heard
Arianrhod’s cry of protest, but she held her ground. Morrigan shut
her eyes. She cried out as she felt the swish of air and knew
Ceridwyn was about to plunge the knife into her chest. Then a loud
crack reverberated off the cavern walls.

Morrigan waited for the pain. She waited to
see a red stain growing across her white dress and to feel the
sticky warm blood start to puddle. When she opened her eyes, she
was amazed to see she was still alive. There seemed no way she
could have escaped death yet again. It wasn’t until Morrigan
touched her chest that she realized what had happened. With hands
that were still shaking, she reached into her dress and pulled out
the remains of the carved stone raven that had saved her life. She
lifted the fragments to her lips and thanked her namesake for
coming through for her.

When Morrigan glanced up again, she saw
Ceridwyn still standing over her. Her wild eyes were deranged in
her outraged fury. She still clutched the hilt of the athame in her
hand, but the crystal blade had shattered to pieces at her feet.
When she saw what was left of her ritual dagger, she threw the
useless tool to the ground. For a moment, even Hecate’s furious
howls as Tiarn sunk his teeth into her exposed ankle were drowned
out by Ceridwyn’s shrill scream.

With her uninhibited shriek, Ceridwyn’s
powers were unleashed. A strong gust of wind sent Morrigan tumbling
backward into one of the crystal pillars. The chalices, cakes, and
other items were swept up in the gusts. Candles fell and were
scattered by the dozen across the cavern floor. The magical flames
burned bright despite the battering they received. Morrigan
couldn’t say the same for herself. The force of the gale slapped
her so hard she could scarcely breathe, and her back ached from the
pounding it took against the hard stone. Nevertheless, she knew she
had to pull herself to her feet. She hoped Arianrhod might be of
some help, but a quick glance in her direction revealed the queen
was still desperately trying to escape from the ropes that held her
against the altar.

Morrigan struggled to stand as her mother’s
winds continued to assault her. Her hair whipped around her face,
making it difficult to see. Pieces of rock and crystal debris,
sharp as glass, flew at her from every direction, hitting her with
such force they cut into her skin, some embedding into the soft
flesh. The fallen candles rolled so close they threatened to set
her gown ablaze. As she watched the flickering light through a haze
of fear and pain, Morrigan was sparked into action.

Seeing the candle flames reminded her of the
Guardian element that was her protector. She knew the only way to
combat magic was with stronger magic. Morrigan reached down to pick
up one of the white candles. She pretended to use her arm to block
the next wind driven attack, so her mother wouldn’t see what she
was planning. Despite the winds that battered her, she had already
turned the tiny flame into a small ball of blue fire. For a brief
moment, the wind died down as Ceridwyn took a breath to recharge.
Morrigan took advantage of the reprieve. Before Ceridwyn could
renew her assault, Morrigan had expanded the flames to the width of
her arms. She sent the huge fireball hurtling in her mother’s
direction.