Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Read online

  "I cannot. My father's death is the blackest sin the world has ever seen." Tears filled the grey eyes of the elf.

  "Ah, Cucullin, you are not meant to be a warrior. Vengeance has been the undoing of so many. Must you fall, too?" Still she stayed and he knew she would answer him.

  "Lady, lady, vengeance and justice are separate. Of all the elves that have been, only my father has been totally destroyed, died in a way that even mortals cannot. Body, soul, and spirit Apkieran took. He will pay for this." The elf raised himself up and faced the prophetess across the expanse of water.

  "Of all that have come to me since the war, few could I help. Lonnlarcan himself came, and though I respect him above all others, I have not the power to answer the riddle of this war." Her eyes filled with the sight of the elf before her. "I know the question you would speak and it is a black deed that I must answer."

  "Tell me," cried Cucullin, "can I find him? Will I meet him? Once I faced him, once I nearly defeated him. I must have his life." The sun blackened over the two and the air became chill at the elflord's words.

  "Listen, Cu, listen to one that cares for you as a lover. The power of the Aislinneena cannot take what I have, the answer you seek cannot change even with the full power of the elves."

  "Tell me," he urged.

  "Of all the elves, you have used the Aislinneena the wisest, remembering your father's death, going through pain after pain in order to grow stronger. Once only have you used the dream power and it will be your bane. I am not the only one who can defeat the Aislinneena, not anymore."

  The elf didn't know of what she was speaking. In all his long life, Cucullin of all the elves had only used the Aislinneena once, and of course could not remember doing so. He had no fear of any who could destroy the power, though a part of him reeled in the revelation that one existed besides the lady who could defeat the Aislinneena. Whoever had such a power must be cast down or all works of the elves could be undone.

  "I have paid a price willingly, that all my people have shunned. I have trained to be the strongest I could so that the black life of the Undead Lord would flow through my fingers. Now I must know. Will I meet him in this war?"

  A sigh escaped the lady like wind across the water. Her eyes filled with crystal tears. "You have asked three times and I must answer. In all my days never have I despised what I am, my power, as I do now. Ah, Cu, you could have joined me in time, a lord of the Bright World, a god to the mortals who seek gods so desperately. Ah, Cu, such brightness to the sad world you could have brought...." Once more she sighed and the land around her lake was browned as if fall had come; here, where it had never been before.

  "Here is my reed, Cucullin. Great deeds will you do and your power shall be a pillar that upholds the Light. Not the least of your deeds shall be the undoing of the Lord of the Undead, should the two of you meet." The elf's heart leapt at her words. "But Cucullin, warrior prince, shall not grace the world long with his bright soul, for though he brings the demon down, it shall only be at the price his father paid before him and the demon's death shall come at the hands of another. Apkieran shall die with the sacrifice of Cucullin. Apkieran shall be destroyed by he who is the master of all things of this world."

  At these dark words, the elf felt no fear, for though the price the prophetess named was terrible, to his warrior soul it was worth the destruction of his enemy.

  "I thank you, my lady, and though I know I could never hope to share your world with you, always will I remember that if things had been different I could have been yours." With a deep bow, the elf withdrew and mounted his horse.

  "It is not too late, Cu." Her voice wrenched his noble heart. "You could turn from your revenge and we could become one."

  "What must be done, must be done, most beautiful of all," he called back. "One soul for the defeat of such evil is never too much of a price to pay and I will pay it happily." With that he left.

  "You are wrong," whispered the lady, "it is always too high of a price." With that the lake became still and smooth again, though now it was grey and all the land around it lost its elven spring and became bare and empty as if winter had struck where it never could. The animals and all living things left, until only the bare trees and a grey lake were left, a monument to the despair and pain of a goddess.

  In the valley of Ogan, the elven army gathered. The valley was surrounded by giant trees that have no name. Their bark glistened with a silvery light and the branches were all a light orange shade. The leaves were a riot of colors that all blended in a beautiful tapestry of lights and darks. The valley itself had no growth except a thick carpet of green moss.

  The stars burned larger and brighter here than anywhere in the world, but no moon was ever seen in the valley of Ogan. Underneath the daybright stars the elves rode singly and in groups, arranging themselves in a chaotic profusion of order. Underneath that magic light, the elven eyes burned.

  They all rode the great elven horses, giant animals, deep of chest and muscular. Many of the steeds, under the influence of magic, were colored as no other horses could be. The colors ranged the full spectrum of the rainbow and in hues that no mortal eye can perceive.

  They were saddled with gold and silver, and though they all had stirrups, not a one had a bridle. The elves did not rule the horses, they fought as partners. And for all the color, braids, and jewels, none would mistake these animals for anything but great beasts of war.

  The elves were no less a wonder than the horses. They wore full body armor, all silvers, greens, and golds. Each wore a torc of silver around their necks with a priceless gem set within it. Many wore more jewels around brow and hair. The weapons glowed and glittered, each a deadly instrument of death. If the stars themselves gathered in the valley, the elves would outshine them.

  Lonnlarcan looked across the host. Everything that met his eye was beautiful and deadly. Power flowed through that valley, wild and strong, and it infused everything it touched.

  "It is beautiful, is it not, my king?" said Ceallac. He was covered in ebony armor trimmed with gold, matching his black hair and golden eyes. Ceallac's eyes were maniacal as the soul within delighted at the thought of war.

  "Ceallac, this is no war of glory we face. It is the blackest hour of the world. I see nothing beautiful in it." Lonnlarcan's silver armor shed a light of its own .

  " Ah , cousin, if you saw with my eyes . . . . " His face glowed with magic. "I doubt not your words. The greatest threat of all is what we face. And though you may not understand, it is in that that I rejoice," he answered.

  "Am I not the first in war, Driven One? I understand better than you could now." As Lonnlarcan finished, Fiachra rode up with several elven knights. In his hand he held a golden spear covered with runes of deep red.

  "Kianbearac, my lord." Reverently the old elf handed his king the mighty spear. Lonnlarcan took it and gingerly held it in his hands, studying the runes.

  "Old One," he addressed the spear, "mighty are your deeds and never have you failed the people in need. Now I need you more than ever."

  "My magic is not what it once was, my lord," said Fiachra, "but two warnings I give. Draw the elven sword as a last resort, for it is doom and salvation." He turned to Ceallac. "And to you, warrior, I give this warning: to fight and strive you were born but such deeds should always be the last resort. Be not so proud of your strength for the enemy knows the lure of pride and is aware of all weakness."

  "Fiachra, my cousin I'm sure understands your words, but all I hear is the promise of battle. It is for battle I live and breathe. Nothing can change that," answered the warrior prince.

  "Into your hands I leave my kingdom," said Lonnlarcan to his advisor. "Only three of the Shee do I bring with me. The others I leave to your care. The battlemaid Breeda will stay with you and help train them for war. Keep them well, Fiachra. Much will depend on the young ones."

  "As you will, my lord," Fiachra answered with a bow.

  Around the leaders the elven host was si
nging, some dancing on their horses' backs. All who were to come were present and they only awaited the king's desire.

  "People of the trees! Warriors of the stars!" began Lonnlarcan, and as he spoke the elves became silent. "I lead this first hosting because we must strike deep into the enemy and off-balance them so we may have time to build our strength." He lifted Kianbearac in his hand. "The greatest danger faces us. Fight and reap, my warriors, fight and reap!"

  With that the air filled with a multitude of horns rising up in one great note of defiance. As one, the elves wheeled the horses around and rode from the valley in silence. A mortal a hundred yards away might have felt a vague misgiving, but no sound would he have heard and no elf would he have seen.

  Fiachra and those left behind headed back to the king's hall, not a one doubting that they must prepare for the bloodiest war the world had known.

  The next day Cucullin caught up with the elven host as it neared the borders of Cather-na-nog. The silent warriors flowed around him as he waited for the king. Lonnlarcan slowed his golden mount. Ceallac joined them and the three rode in the rear.

  "The lady weeps in her caverns, Cu," said the king.

  "Aye, my lord, and would that it could be otherwise, yet I must follow my destiny."

  The king shook his head sadly. "Your father said the same once."

  "Friend Cucullin, what is it that has so torn the Goddess?" interrupted Ceallac.

  "Ah, would that I could feign misunderstanding," answered the warrior. He then told the others of all that had passed at the lake.

  "This bodes evil for our people," said Lonnlarcan. "If the enemy possesses the power to defeat the Aislinneena, much of our strength will be useless."

  "And the pyridin, my lord," said Cucullin, "such a power would destroy them with ease."

  "We must find who or what controls this power and defeat it quickly," added Ceallac.

  "There is no choice, such a one is our greatest threat. Ceallac, ride to Teague and Baibre. Have them turn our mages to the quest of finding who wields this power. Also have a message sent back to inform Fiachra." Ceallac rode forward in a burst of speed.

  "Cu," Lonnlarcan turned to the warrior, "will you not turn from your black path?"

  "Nay, my lord. There is nothing you can say, no command you may give that can dissuade me. Whatever else happens, I will be the bane of Apkieran." The king's witch sight saw the dark nimbus surrounding the warrior and knew that this pledge could not be broken, the doom light shone bright around Cucullin.

  "As you will," he said quietly. "Wait." He stopped his horse. Suddenly a creature appeared in front of the two elves. It stood about four feet tall and though humanoid, was impossibly skinny. Its skin was a dusky grey, a perfect match for the deep-set grey eyes, split like a cat's.

  The creature was apparently sexless and though it bore no weapon, it projected an aura of danger. From the corners of its slanted eyes two thin filaments of skin or hair projected to the tips of its pointed ears. Its fingers were abnormally long and ended in black talons.

  It shifted uneasily from foot to foot, its body making odd jerking movements as if it were unused to standing still for any period of time. It bent sideways at an impossible angle in a parody of a courtly bow. Neither elf missed the fact that the bow was to Cucullin.

  "Dorrenlassarslany," Lonnlarcan named it, "I am glad for your help."

  "No choice, witchlord. Need great elf things to fight deepest unhealth in land." The creature looked sullen. Its voice was oddly flat and dead. It turned to Cucullin, its voice changing to an excited high-pitched twitter. "Pyridin peoples know of Lady Orlaith's words of choices to you. Great and good from us, for your choice is well made and honorable. Less gods, more dead unthings, is our will."

  "I thank you for your words, Dorrenlassarslany-s," answered Cucullin. "More choices to your people is a boon that I hope my quest will fulfill."

  The pyridin danced around more at these words and smiled to show cracked and browned fangs. "Choice, choice," it sang, "that is the good thing. But," its voice went dead again, "unthings narrow, destroy choice. We help great elf things. They help us." It looked up at Lonnlarcan. "Great unmaker must be called. Unthings know of elves' plan. Kill and rend instead."

  "The Morigunamachamain knows of the hosting. He will come when it suits him," answered the Ard Riegh.

  "No, no," it squealed. "He is with a maker, but the un-maker must ride with elves, to rend. Great dark master wait for elves, must have unmaker, must rend."

  "Ambush, and we need the Morigu to face it," said Lonnlarcan. "I will call the Morigu, the unmaker. I cannot say whether he will come."

  "Will, must come," it sighed. "No choice for unmaker, steed wait, must come."

  "Stop, make a circle," said the elf king. Immediately the elves returned to him and the silent army encircled the two. Ceallac, Baibre, Cainhill, and Teague joined Lonnlarcan and Cucullin. Ceallac gave the pyridin a disdainful look.

  "Why do we stop, cousin?" he asked, making no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice.

  "Somehow the enemy knows of our approach," the king answered. "The pyridin know of an ambush ahead, but insist we call the Morigunamachamain."

  "Margawt," muttered the lord Cainhill.

  "Aye, I trust not that one, but he is the only one there is." Lonnlarcan dismounted his horse and the others moved away from him. With no further discussion, he squatted down and touched the ground lightly, chanting softly. He then took the spear Kianbearac and touched its tip to the ground. The king's voice grew louder as a silver aura covered his body. Soon, one word could be made out.

  "Brestalo, Brestalo." The chant became deeper and the spear began to pulse to it. It was the pulse of a heartbeat and the word punctuated the rhythm, "Brest-alo, Brest-alo." The grass began to undulate with the beat and soon the ground rippled away from the spear as if someone had thrown a rock in a pond. The chant continued for a few moments until it met resistance, a wave hitting a ship.

  The Ard Riegh continued it for a moment. "Brest-alo, Brest-alo," again and again impressing his message. Finally, an answering shudder shook the spear. Lonnlarcan stood up, the silver light immediately winked out. The pyridin appeared in front of him and bobbed its head once.

  "I was not sure he would answer. The power of the elves does not reach into the earth's veins. The trees and grass are our domain."

  "He heard," said the little one, his voice now gentle and friendly.

  The others joined the two. "Now," said Lonnlarcan, "what great dark master dares to try and ambush my people?"

  The creature seemed to lose its size and began to bound about, practically running in circles. "Great less god." It fell flat on the grass, twitching. Quietly it said, "Fomarian."

  The elves as one gasped. Fomarians were demigod. Once they had in the twilight years been among the chief powers of the world. Now they were less, but their power was still great.

  Lonnlarcan looked down at the twitching creature. "I must have a full explanation of this, Dorrenlassarslany. Ceallac, call the war council." Ceallac bowed once and rode off. "Lord Cainhill," the warrior turned his purple eyes to the king, "take your people ahead to the border." Cainhill saluted and turned his mount around, riding off in a burst of unnatural speed.

  A chair was brought for the king and he sat quietly, waiting for the council to all appear. His eyes were blank and roamed in a place far and away from elves and men. For the first time in his memory, Lonnlarcan was unsure.

  The Morigu felt the Ard Riegh's call and at first was not inclined to pay attention, but then he felt the High King's insistence. He wondered at that for Lonnlarcan knew Margawt was coming to join the elves. The Morigu sat on the ground and extended his knowledge. Quickly, his perception flew to the elves. They were not hard to find. The land's acceptance of the elves always verged on ecstasy. Wherever there was an elf, the land was cleaner, healthier. Few elves had the taint of wrongness and those that did had so little it was infinitesimal compared to what th
e other creatures of the world usually possessed.

  The Morigu knew the pyridins' fear and discomfort and realized it was because of this that he was called so urgently. He went past the elves, beyond the borders of Cather-na-nog. His body jerked once and he felt his stomach churn with distaste.

  "A Fomarian," he said aloud. Somehow the enemy had revived the monster and it led a large army. How it got past the humans and so near the elvish border he could not guess. Once again, Margawt was amazed by the Dark Ones' incredible power.

  He leapt to his feet. "Anlon!" he cried with voice and magic. The unicorn appeared behind him.

  "Yes, I heard the call, too," the unicorn said. Margawt spun to face his comrade.

  "A fomarian," Margawt's eyes were wild. Anlon bowed his head once.

  "Yes, the Goddess' ancient enemy." He snorted black fire. "Who has the power to unbind them? Why does the Goddess remain at the dwarven caves? She should be here to fight her old enemies."

  "Unless," Margawt shuddered at the thought, "there were others freed. And one attacks the Crystal Falls."

  "Margawt, this is black news." Anlon danced nervously on the broad lawn. "There were seven of the Fomarians left after the Goddess and the Hunter cast them down. Seven to be bound until the end of time. But someone has freed them. How can this be?"

  Margawt ran a hand through his thick hair. "Maybe, Anlon," he said, "maybe no one freed them. Maybe they freed themselves."

  "Impossible."

  "Perhaps, but it could be we are not at war with the Dark One, but with the Fomarians. Perhaps they have come to claim the world once more." The unicorn's red eyes stared at the sky as if the answer would be written there.

  "I don't know, Margawt, I don't know. It makes sense but I doubt it. They could never have attained the power they once had." Again Margawt felt the cry of the land, far away, as the Fomarian shaped it with its magic.

  "There," his voice was weak, "are still raiders, Anlon."

  "You must go, Margawt," Anlon answered. "You are needed with the armies."