Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 22

  "Kill that poor creature and give it its freedom." He pointed to the fire that was Fintan. The demon's sword crashed against Cucullin's ax as if to add emphasis to his words, as two elves ran the creature through with lances. The elves were hard-pressed to hold the enemy away as more goblins attacked.

  The hermaphrodite's eyes burned red and two jets of flame splashed against the elf lord's chest, but it did no damage. Cucullin just showed his teeth. Enraged, the Demon Prince was forced on the defensive as the unseen ax beat against shield and sword. The demon cried in a great voice and his form was turned to fire. Now, in his true form, he could perceive the ax of the Aislinneena. Great rents appeared beneath the elf's feet and gouts of flame enveloped them.

  Cucullin strode through them as if they were nothing but a light rain, his form encased in a golden light. The demon quailed at the sight of the armor and ax he could now perceive, recognizing them and Cucullin for the first time. A great ball of blue-white flame came from his brow but again no harm came to the elf.

  "You put too much emphasis on your little fires, dog," said Cucullin, "and not enough in good blade work." His left hand contemptuously pushed the demon's thrust out of his ax's path. It came down in a silver flash. It clove through the demon's head and split it in two. From the cut a blue-black flame sprung and a wailing of terror was heard in the field. The charred body fell to the ground.

  In the center of the field, Lonnlarcan desperately tried to get to Cainhill's side but he was cut off by a fresh attack. Cainhill's sword had twice breached the defenses of Apkieran, but it seemed to do no damage. His shield was beaten into uselessness by the great bleeding ax. Cainhill held his sword two-handed, crying spells desperately, throwing all his power at the demon.

  Apkieran did not even try to defend himself from the spells, knowing his death could never be accomplished by magic. Cainhill's latest spell caused the grass to grasp the skeleton around its feet, but as soon as the grass touched skin or bone it withered and died. The great ax chopped down and Cainhill's sword shivered apart. He fell to his knees.

  Apkieran picked the elf up with two hands.

  "You have bitten off more than you can chew, little lordling." With that he bit deep into Cainhill's chest with his tusklike canines. At Cainhill's cry of anguish, Lonnlarcan cleared his path with a silver flame from Kianbearac. Apkieran dropped the elf and turned to meet this new attack.

  "Not now," a sibilant hiss said in his ear. "Don't show your power too soon." Apkieran nodded to the unseen speaker and lifted his hands above his head. At his cry a hundred great bats enveloped Lonnlarcan and his mount. By the time the Ard Riegh freed himself the undead lord was gone. The elves grabbed up Cainhill and the retreat began.

  It took two hours for the forces of Tolan to retreat inside the city. They had done great damage to the enemy, but their own hurt was tremendous. Fully a third of the army lay upon the field in front of the city. Only four of the war machines had been saved. Among the fallen were Ernet, their General, two of the elf mages, one of the Shee, and the lord Cainhill.

  The enemy surrounded the city, but their forces were not endless and they were spread thin. But there was no force to break through the siege and free those within. It looked as if Tolan would fall.

  The Dark army attacked all through the night. None of the attacks were too serious. They were used mainly to keep those in the city off balance. Lonnlarcan joined his magic with the three remaining elf mages to ward against the enemy's spells. Both Teague and Bairbre tried to get some much-needed rest. Lonnlarcan wished to use his power to heal the wounded, especially Cainhill, but the sorcerous attacks continued and he had no choice.

  Cainhill's body was racked by fever. His skin turned a sick yellow and he was covered with black putrid sores, especially around the area where Apkieran had bitten him. Elvish healers worked grimly to save his life. But Cainhill was dying. Slowly, painfully, he was dying.

  While the weary defenders of Tolan prepared for another assault, Donal and Mearead entered the woods of Aes Lugh. The dwarf led the way through a tangle of hanging moss, the pale growth clinging to his shoulders and arms. Donal was having an even tougher time of it, his large frame working against him. They made their way into a dismal clearing.

  "It is not the Aes Lugh of my memory," said the dwarf.

  "Evil clings to her, lord," answered Donal. "Hardly can I believe this is the place of my birth."

  "It's hard to believe you saw none of these dark changes," questioned Mearead.

  "I think I did, but my loyalty to the witch closed my eyes." Donal never called Arianrood anything but 'the witch' now. "Many of our greatest lords have disappeared in times past. She always answered my queries with a curt explanation." He sighed. "I suppose they were the ones who had seen clearly. They must be dead or worse now."

  "Wait a minute, lad, you might have hit on something." Mearead sat down with a thump. "This bloody forest is endless and to enter Arianrood's city would be suicide." He drew his pipe out, the picture of unconcern here in the hold of his most dire enemies. "I can find no trace of her. So what if she didn't kill off everyone who opposed her?"

  "What do you mean?"

  'Try using your head, lad, that's what it's there for." Mearead lit up, puffed, and sighed contentedly. "Oh, some must have seen even as you say. She could not convince the great ones to join her, so she had to get rid of them, kill them or otherwise."

  "I see." Donal's face lit up. "I see. She'd have to imprison them, and one of power could not be imprisoned in her city. Too much of her old magic would be there to draw on. She'd have to place them elsewhere."

  "Aye," Mearead's voice was excited now. "And aye again, lad. The bitch is not here, that I'm sure of. Even her power could not mask her from me. But if she were elsewhere, distance could do what no wall or door could." He withdrew his pipe. He stood up and cocked his head as if listening. "There's nothing about that can interfere."

  He knelt down and dug in the soft earth for a while. Finally, he brought out a small jagged stone. "Like calls to like," he mumbled. He closed his eyes, his hands rubbing the stone, softly. As if brought out by his touch, a small glow appeared from the stone as if a light were inside it. Donal thought he could peer into the stone and see a small heart beating.

  Mearead placed the stone on the ground, placing either hand opposite it as he bent down and breathed on it once. He sat back with a look of pleasure as the stone continued to glow. It moved a bit, as the earth underneath it popped into the air. A small squirt of water shot out, then more. It made a pool, bubbling quietly. Then the earth on one side bent back to form a furrow. The water flowed down it and in moments a tiny stream formed and flowed to the south.

  "This will lead us to the witch?"

  "No, but to her prison," Mearead answered. "Tightening the straps on his backpack, he began to follow the stream.

  "Mearead," Donal could not hide his exasperation, "Aes Lugh is hundreds of miles wide. We could be following this thing for weeks."

  Still walking away, Mearead sighed. "First, Arianrood would have to have made her prison far from the heart of Aes Lugh."

  "I agree with that," Donal caught up with him, "but wouldn't she put it in Fiodha, Remon's land, or at least near it?"

  "Maybe."

  "Besides, even if we find the prison and free whoever's there, how does that bring us closer to getting her?" Mearead stopped and stared up at the seven foot giant.

  "Arianrood is most likely in Tolath." He raised his head. "I know that because she's not here, so I can't reach her now. What I can do is get information, and perhaps allies."

  "We could--"

  The dwarf interrupted, "It has to be close now, or my magic wouldn't be able to find it easily. Try to be a bit more patient." He marched off. Donal shrugged in resignation and followed.

  But Mearead was not as unconcerned as he pretended. In the back of his mind he heard a voice: "And in time, you, too, shall hunt...."

  C H A P T E R

&nb
sp; Fourteen

  Two days later the Dwarf King and the Warlord still hunted. They were deep in the land of Aes Lugh now, but in all that time they had stopped only briefly to eat. Neither had slept or rested since leaving the valley of Morhalk. Such was their strength that despite their grueling pace neither showed any signs of fatigue.

  Mearead's stream led them on, avoiding any path or place of habitation. Twice they had left the stream to attack patrols, but they got no information from their captives and killed them all.

  'It is getting time to eat,' Donal thought. He and the dwarf rarely talked now. They had argued over the killing of the captives. Mearead insisting they could leave no trace behind, the Warlord grieving for the hard cruelties of this war.

  As he walked he became aware of a pressure in front of him. Every step he took it became stronger, as if he was trying to walk through water that was slowly hardening to ice around him.

  "I can feel something, Mearead," he gasped, wiping sweat from his face. "Some magic slowing me, stopping me. Gods, I can barely move!" Mearead stopped, placing his hands in front of him.

  "We've found it." His voice was gruff. "There are bindings here, powerful ones."

  "Yes," Donal took another sluggish step, "they are stronger than any I've ever encountered." Mearead drew his ax and looked up at the half-elf.

  "Aye, Longsword," he said, "I doubt you can go any further. Your name is tied in this spell. Whatever the bitch has hidden here, she does not want you to find it. I'll go on alone."

  "Nay, I go with you, Dwarven King," Donal answered, taking another step though his limbs quivered with the strain.

  "Now, lad, there's nothing there to harm. You can only get through by breaking the magic and if you did that, her holiness would be alerted." It took more convincing, but Donal finally gave in after Mearead promised to call if he needed to help.

  "I can get through without breaking the bindings, lad. It's the only way." Mearead lit his pipe and handed it to Donal. "Keep yourself busy," he admonished and with that he was gone.

  As Donal tried to figure out what he was supposed to do with the pipe, Mearead made his way toward the place of power. As he went, he chanted. He would go ahead a few feet, step back one, move to the side and go a further step. The binding was made to stop all living things. As soon as it became aware of Mearead he would call his power to him and where there had been a living being there now became stone. The spell could not cope with this subtlety and Mearead broke through after an hour.

  He walked into a clearing. It was a clearing because all that had been in this area had died. Great trees lay on the ground stinking of rot and putrefaction. There were bones of animals, still covered with strings of grey flesh, lying in grotesque heaps. Grass and vegetation were completely destroyed with bits and pieces of twigs strewn about. A memory of the life that was once here.

  The area was about thirty yards in radius. It was bounded by a wall of grey shifting mist. This spell wall became dark smoke at the top and covered the prison in a dark and eerie dome. Chained to the trunks of dead trees were a dozen forms. Those nearest to Mearead were unmoving. He went to the closest and inspected it.

  It was the mummy of an elf, probably a great lord by its size. He or she had been wrapped in a glistening chain. Mearead had never seen the like of that metal. The body had obviously been tortured and somehow all the fluids withdrawn; left was only parched skin and bone. The whole place smelled like a slaughterhouse and Mearead's eyes watered from it.

  "Thus ends all your loyalty, friend," but his mind was on Donal and Colin. His voice came out dead and empty. 'As if one of these poor creatures could talk themselves,' he thought. Then he heard a moan. For a minute he started thinking one of the mummies had answered him, then he saw a movement from one of the further bodies. It was accompanied by the rasping of chain. He went over to the noise.

  Bound to this stump was a human. She was naked and bruised, but all things considered, not bad off. Her tiny breasts fluttered with some movement.

  "It's all right, lassie. I've come to free you." He grabbed hold of the chain. He dropped it with a curse. Somehow it had cut him. Though it seemed smooth, it was like ground glass to the touch. Mearead noticed the woman was bleeding wherever the chain touched her. He growled. 'That metal shouldn't be made so!'

  He went around to the back of the tree. Lifting his ax he brought it down with a great bang. Nothing happened. He lifted his ax again, this time crying, "Naud berth!" When his ax hit, it cut deep into the chain. It lodged halfway while the chain went through a transformation.

  The links glowed white as if with heat and then turned a metallic black. Mearead drew the ax with a grunt of satisfaction and grasped the transformed chain with two hands. He pulled it apart with one jerk, its loud snapping a dull thud in the dead air of that place.

  Swiftly he went around and caught the girl. He was noticing a fatigue growing and realized it was the place itself that leeched the others of their life. It seemed to him the more powerful a person, the quicker and faster he was drained.

  "I'll have you out of here soon, girl, as soon as I see if there are any others."

  "There are no others alive here." She spoke through a haze of fatigue and weariness. 'Take me away now. I can't last much longer." Her hand grasped him, but there was not strength in that grip. "Please," she whispered. Her eyes rolled white and she fell unconscious.

  Mearead picked her up in his arms, and headed for the boundaries. Surprisingly, he could leave easily. The chains must have restrained the others until they were too weak to escape. Many spells were this way, all their power directed one way or the other. It was just a matter of finding their weakness. 'And,' thought Mearead, 'that weakness can always be found.'

  As he left that place he felt his strength and vitality returning. He reached Donal and with a curt explanation began to tend the woman. As he left Mearead hadn't noticed a weak glowing on the farthest edge of the prison. There a little glowing spiral was encased in a glass prison. It bounced itself off the walls of its prison but could not escape. Its pitiful cry was not heard. And thus was it that Shorty, Dammuth's familiar in its true form, remained in the prison that Arianrood had trapped it in.

  The next morning the girl awoke. Mearead, having become convinced there was no more point in remaining in Aes Lugh, had led the march east. They had walked all night, Donal bearing the woman the whole way. Even Mearead was impressed by the ex-warlord's strength. They stopped by a brook and revived their new companion.

  She awoke with a start and stared up with sea-grey eyes at the dwarf and the hulking shadow that was Donal. "What?" she mouthed. Mearead gave her some water and in a soothing voice explained who they were and how it was that she was freed. She asked no questions but listened carefully, fondling her dark brown hair absently. Both the half-elf and the dwarf were well-skilled in the art of healing and since the woman had been more drained than damaged, she awoke almost to her full strength.

  "So, lass, that's the tale," said Mearead. "And now who are you and what can you tell us?"

  She turned away, lost in dark memory for a moment and then a quiet voice answered.

  "I am Bronwen, lord. Bronwen ap..." she shook her head fiercely. "Well, that doesn't matter now. I am the daughter of the betrayer, Remon." Her hand dug at the ground. "Five years ago he joined the Ead and turned our land into a place of evil. I and others fought his power but his magic increased and all were killed save me, including my four brothers. She promised to keep me alive. I suppose one day he thought I'd join him," she turned away and spat. "It matters little now. We are on the same side, lord, and I will help you in your quest. Gladly will I help any who would contend with that black traitoress!"

  "It's information we need the most," added Mearead.

  "Aye, and I can most assuredly help you in that." She rose to her feet. "I fought them for five long years. Only weeks ago was I finally captured, for, my lords, I had help."

  "Help?" asked Mearead.

&n
bsp; "Oh yes, help." She turned and glared at Donal. "Surely the Warlord," it was a slur from her mouth, "has heard of the huntress?"

  "You!" exclaimed Donal.

  "Me!" she said, challenge in her very stance.

  "Ah, well, that's grand," said Mearead, "absolutely grand. Suppose you two pups tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

  "The huntress," Donal pointed accusingly at the woman, "she was a thorn in the witch's side. An assassin in the night, killing and murdering all who served the Ead."

  "Well, that's certainly a good recommendation if you ask me," Mearead said.

  "Well, it would be," said Donal, "except that it was said that she served that dark god, the Hunter!"

  "You've got a lot to learn, Warlord," was the girl's swift and angry reply, "if you think the Hunter serves the dark!"

  Mearead cut off Donal before he could reply.

  "Hold now, hold now," he said. 'The Hunter, eh?" She nodded her head. "How is it that you know of that one?"

  "He came to me in those first few days, he taught me the ways of the hunt," she spoke proudly. "He told me of Remon's betrayal and that he thought Arianrood was behind it, but he was not sure. He dared not contest her openly to find out. He said he was preparing for a great war that was to come and I was to be one of his weapons."

  "One of his weapons." Mearead sat down and rubbed his chin. "Oh gods, that is the best news I have learned of in long ages." He looked the woman over carefully. "If what you say is true, if the Hunter has truly given up his long neutrality, then welcome you are to our company!"

  "My lord," cried Donal, "if what she says is true then she is surely not on our side!"