Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Read online

"Oh great," Mearead said to the wizard, "all hell's about to break loose!" But a calculating smile belied his words. Even as the men of Tolath leaped up to defend their emperor, the followers of Arianrood stood to face them.

  "Enough." The elven king's voice filled the chamber. "Sit back down and contain yourselves." Under the power that flowed from this voice, everyone sat down immediately. Except Arianrood.

  "Your voice tricks have no effect on me, Witch King. I say the mortal blasphemes. This is my right and duty. Do you fear to admit you stand with him against the golden Fealoth?"

  "Lady, you go too far." The king's hand chopped down. His eyes blazed at her. "None, not even you, have the right to speak to me as you have. Trell'dem speaks true and I do stand with him. So beware your anger, lady, for in me you have met your match!"

  Arianrood smiled and with a quick motion of her hand she and her retinue were covered with a shimmering glow of green. "Threatening me is your worst mistake, Lonnlarcan, and one you shall rue."

  Even as Trell'dem moved toward the two and Lonnlarcan made to answer, a loud crash shook the room and all turned to stare at the dwarf king, who had just slammed his ax down.

  "Okay, everybody, fun is fun, but enough!" he roared. The elf king turned with surprise and looked down on the stout dwarf.

  "What--" he began, even as Arianrood's anger turned on the dwarf.

  "You impudent--"

  Mearead stuck his tongue out at both of them. All stared, wondering if the dwarf was drunk. All except Dammuth, who had remained sitting, and watched the proceedings with a hint of a smirk on his face.

  "Now, now, don't start threatening me, 'cause I got no patience for it." Suddenly, the dwarf's eyes went hard and a feral grin turned his face into the berserker's death mask. "I don't take it from anyone, see. So don't start it. Dwarves don't threaten. They act." Even Arianrood seemed a little daunted. At least she said nothing.

  "Don't give me that 'wisdom of the ages' look, Arianrood. It isn't going to do any good. I didn't hear anyone accuse Fealoth of anything except for being wrong, something even gods are susceptible to, though it seems that's a lesson others could learn." He sighed and sat down. "Now, I'll admit the kid used some rather strong language, but I figure when your great-uncle is a god, you can say pretty damn near anything you want."

  "You are aware that I am High Priestess to Fealoth?" said Arianrood. The green light died a little.

  "I'm aware of a lot more than you think, darlin'. Such as the truth written in these scrolls." He smacked them against his palm. "I am aware of one more thing that Lonnlarcan was trying to get to." Everyone was quiet now. "It is not unknown to me, though it may be to some," he looked pointedly at Arianrood, "that evil is abroad and a helluva lot more than it should be. Don't forget who acted as Fealoth's herald. I alone of all in this room have seen and talked to the Dark Lord face to face."

  He looked down at Trell'dem. "I know evil. I know its face, its smell." Though his voice was quiet it reverberated about the small room. "And," he continued, "I knew Fealoth best of all." He ruffled the pages, staring at nothing. "Evil? Evil. I don't know, it's too powerful, too much is going on. I know Fealoth had no idea the Dark Power would ever regain so much might." He sat down with a thump.

  "I have no great magic of the elves, and the magic of men has always confused me. But I am Lord of the Crystal Falls, and the earth She speaks to me and her waters show me things. And I know what you seek to tell, Lord Lonnlarcan." He turned to Arianrood, one hand stroking his ax. "The Shee have returned."

  "What?" said Arianrood, her anger flaming again. "Why was I not informed?"

  The elves of Cather-na-nog exchanged quick looks, and all shifted a bit closer to their king. "We were not sure, Arianrood," Lonnlarcan deftly lied, "but there can be no doubt. Among the new generation of my people are those who are Shee."

  "Surely," said Donal, "the question is not so much why, but why now?"

  "Nay, my lord," said Arianrood. "The question is, why do you think the Shee can return without my knowledge?"

  "Then it's true, Arianrood? You do not know of the return?" For the first time Dammuth spoke. His voice was soothing and the anger in the room seemed to visibly dissipate.

  Arianrood looked at her old friend speculatively. It was by her hand he had taken his first steps to the power he now wielded. If she respected any here it was Dammuth, just as if she feared any it was the dwarf and his berserker power.

  "Dammuth, surely you of all understand. Surely you see. Theirs is a web of lies and deceit, woven for what purpose and by whom," she turned to the elven king, "I do not know. I am the Ead, the eldest. There are no Shee." Cainhill rose to argue, but his king silenced him with one motion of his hand. Arianrood turned to the elf.

  "I am the Ead," she stated again. "I train the Shee and none are born without my knowledge. Thus it has been since the world began. It is my sworn and sacred duty given unto me by the earth mother herself."

  None spoke. The humans looked at one another. Even their emperor had no words. Arianrood was the eldest of all living things and the most powerful. To many, Arianrood was nothing less than a goddess. They shook their heads in silent agreement. There must be no Shee for she would know.

  Dammuth spoke quietly, but all heard his words. "My lady, my teacher, you who have turned down the right to join the Bright World, who have given and sacrificed above all others," he looked straight into her eyes, "you are wrong." Anarchy took over the chamber as everyone sought to talk at once. Dammuth raised his hand. Strangely, the others quieted down. "It is true. I have met many of these young elves and I tell you with no hesitation, they are Shee!"

  "You, too, Dammuth." The queen's voice held an edge of pain. "It cannot be, Dammuth; there are no Shee. It is a lie. I have heard too many lies this day. No!" she shouted as Dammuth sought to interrupt. "No. Hear me out. I have listened to blasphemy of the Bright One. I have heard out- right lies. There is something wrong in this room. Pay attention, for I will not explain this twice."

  She spread her hands and above the map a lifesize image appeared. It was of Arianrood in a glade. Trees towered over the glade, their trunks incredibly wide, colored a deep, almost black, brown. Their leaves were the bright green of sun through a forest, though it was night. Arianrood stood in the image, naked, her perfect body making all the men's hearts ache. Her arms were upraised to the starry sky and one shaft of silvery light was encompassed by her pale arms. The light shot straight into the sky, and inside there seemed to be a figure of silver, brighter than the shaft itself. Though they could hear no words, it was apparent to all that Arianrood spoke to the figure and that it answered her.

  "It is true, then," Mearead said. His voice quivered a bit, in fear or envy none could say. "You speak directly to him."

  "Aye," said Arianrood. "Did you think me some mortal, dependent on confused dreams for my lord's will? We speak, he and I. And I tell you direct from Fealoth, there is no need to fear. There is no resurgence of evil and there are no Shee!"

  "What is this about, Arianrood?" For the first time anger was evident in the elven king's voice. "The Shee are returned. That blood flows almost as strong in me as it does in you. It is so!" He stood and faced her once more. His hands stretched toward her. "Don't you see, Arianrood? Something is amiss, deadly wrong. The Shee return. You know nothing of it. Evil is rampant and strengthening, yet Fealoth himself tells you there is no need to worry." He bowed his head. "My lady, look, see the truth. There is more to this than you think."

  Arianrood stood up. Her body was surrounded by a green nimbus of flame. "Yes, there is something deadly wrong. I said I would not explain and I will not. Build your little armies, argue amongst yourselves. I care not. Fealoth has explained all to me. Listen or not. It is your choice. But beware, Fealoth remembers friends, but he is a god now, supposedly yours as well as mine. Remember a god's wrath!" With that she got up to leave the room, her lords following. Donal Longsword, though, looked reluctant.

  "Perhaps," L
onnlarcan shouted at her retreating back, "you put too much faith in your god, lady. You forget the power of the elves is not dependent on any gods, no matter what power they claim."

  Arianrood swung around. Her voice rose in fury. "You go too far, Witch King. You have marked yourself. The payment shall be made!"

  "Arianrood," Dammuth's calm voice interrupted, "the power of the Shee is tied to the earth goddess, and though you are the eldest of us, She is the Ead of all. You warn us of a god's wrath. Forget not a goddess's jealousy."

  "You presume too much. I have borne enough from you babes. Fret and worry like a bunch of old maids. I have not the time. Forget not my warnings and think of what I have said. Perhaps in time you will regain the wisdom that you once held." With that she left.

  The room was completely silent.

  "I assume," said Trell'dem, "that we who remain agree that there is a present danger?"

  All nodded their heads. The dwarf stood up. "I think, my lords, it is time to adjourn this meeting. Do not doubt the dwarves. I say to Lonnlarcan and Trell'dem, continue to re-arm, but beware the lady's anger."

  "And the dwarves?" asked Lonnlarcan.

  "The dwarves as of now have no doubts. We consider ourselves at war and will take the actions necessary."

  "Then we will adjourn. We will meet after dinner to begin to plan our defense and our next steps," said Trell'dem. With that, all began to leave the room. Lonnlarcan, the emperor, the wizard, and Mearead left together.

  "The question is," said Dammuth, "if it comes to war, can we win without Arianrood?"

  "That," said the elf, "depends on whether she fights not at all, with us, or against us." The two left the room. Trell'dem looked down on the dwarf.

  "I don't understand her reaction," said the emperor, "and I fear it."

  "Well, all I can say is," answered Mearead, "I'll be damned if I would invite her to a party."

  Lonnlarcan, Mearead and Dammuth stood up on the high wall of Tolan's main gate, the sharp early morning sun reflecting off the two dragon skulls to either side of them. Beneath them small figures turned south and rode away.

  "And there she goes," Mearead mumbled.

  "Aye, the Ead's reaction leaves me troubled." Lonnlarcan's pale hands clasped the battlements. "I find my heart at war with my head. Can we trust her or not?"

  "You are right, great king, there is more here than meets the eye." Dammuth's soothing voice drew the others' attention away from the dwindling riders. "Still, Arianrood has promised her armies at our need."

  "She was always proud," Mearead added.

  "True, but then she had reason for it." Dammuth was the only one living who could call Arianrood friend. He alone truly understood her many sacrifices for the peoples of the world. "It may," he said, "just be a problem of perception. She has known life since the beginning. Time is different for her than for us."

  "Perception," Lonnlarcan repeated, "simple perceptions." He sighed. 'Time has no real hold on me or mine, but even to us the years Arianrood has seen are unimaginable."

  "But it is a bad omen that the High Priestess of Fealoth will not be here at the celebration of the god," the dwarf king said.

  No one had an answer for that. Dammuth glanced at Lonnlarcan, raising an eyebrow, and received a small nod in answer. The wizard cleared his throat and looked down at the dwarf lord.

  "We have some news for you, Mearead," he said.

  "Good news, I hope."

  "That remains to be seen."

  "We felt since you had divined the truth of the Shee," Lonnlarcan added, "that you have the right to know."

  "By the gods, will you two quit being so cryptic and tell me!"

  "There is a Morigunamachamain," Dammuth said quietly.

  "Goddess," Mearead fingered his ax, "goddess, what does this portend?"

  "He was chosen seven years ago." Lonnlarcan kneeled down to face the dwarf, his chain mail rattling. "Mearead, he is not like the others, he is. . He looked up at Dammuth.

  . . Dangerous," Dammuth finished for him.

  "All the Morigu are," Mearead answered.

  "No, it is more than that." The Ard Riegh's silver eyes held Mearead's. "The Morigunamachamain were always chosen from those of the Shee who served the earth with full hearts. Margawt, Margawt never knew that service. It did not take long years of training for him to come to his power."

  "How can that be?"

  "He will say nothing of it," Dammuth answered. "I found him six years ago after the goddess placed the knowledge in my heart. He will speak only to me, but I have gleaned little from him."

  "He hunts as the old ones did," Lonnlarcan added. "He is as powerful as any of his kind have been, but he does not control his power well. He is wild, he cannot always tell friend from foe."

  "We know raiders killed his family, and as might be expected of such, tortured him." Dammuth turned from the other two, his face hard. "He should have died that day, but he did not. The goddess transformed him and now he hunts the pathways of the world for the agents of the Dark One."

  "The goddess will not choose any of the other Shee for her now." Lonnlarcan stretched to his full height, towering over the dwarf.

  "He is the Morigu, the only one there is, and I think the only one that will be."

  "This is the last sign, then," Mearead said quietly. "It will be war." Dammuth just nodded his head, his back to the others. The Ard Riegh's hand closed on one of the battlements, crushing the stone beneath.

  "We cannot know where, we cannot know when, but," he turned to Mearead, his form covered with a silver nimbus, "we do know it will be war!"

  C H A P T E R

  Two

  He raced through the trees, his form an unearthly blur of speed. He wore only a chain mail vest and armored girdle, stained black. Strapped to his shoulders was a one-and-a-half-handed sword. A long hunting knife was sheathed to his thigh. His chest was covered with white necklaces made from goblin fangs. Rows of the same hung about his wrists and his ankles.

  He made no sound as he sped through the wood, his waist length warrior's braid streaming behind him. Even the sound of his breath was hidden by a powerful silence spell, one of the few spells he had mastered, and, as he often thought, the only one he really needed.

  The earth cried to him: Disease, Evil, Revenge! And he answered the call. He was hunting and all his hunts led to one thing: death.

  The goblins squatted around a large fire. This far from the elven kingdom of Cather-na-nog, they feared no creatures.

  They were a dismal lot. Their coloring was a bizarre mixture of pink and grey, and though some had scraggles of hair on their dirty faces, all were uniformly bald. Though the goblins are humanoid, they don't resemble other races such as elves or men.

  Their arms were disproportionately long to their bodies, ending in six-fingered hands with long fingers possessing an extra joint. Goblins don't have claws like their cousins, the gargoyles. Indeed, they have no nails. Their skin is very rough, like calluses on a human foot. The goblins are six-toed, the last toe on the foot ending in the only claw a goblin possesses. The claw is long and curved and very strong. They rarely wear any sort of foot covering.

  Their faces are the grinning horror of a nightmare. The small skull slopes into a snout. The nose is really just two large air holes on the sides of the snout. They have no eyebrows, but instead a bumpy ridge of flesh that extends across the face. Cat-eyed, the goblins possess excellent night vision. They have no eyelids, but a retractable clear membrane protects the eyes from damage.

  Their ears are pointed and placed almost on top of the head. Both ears are independently movable to a small degree. As witnessed by a few half-goblins, occasionally, and always through rape, a goblin can conceive with a human.

  There were eight goblins around the fire. One was tying a dirty rag around a small knife wound in his arm. He had received the wound from one of his comrades as an answer to a slur against the other's looks. Being an egotistical race, such remarks are consider
ed the deadliest of insults.

  Unknown to the goblins, they were watched. The hunter had found his prey. He sat in a tree some twenty yards away and watched the creatures with a mixture of loathing and glee. His name is Margawt.

  He is the Morigunamachamain, the only one alive. His success as the earth's avenger is attested to by the necklaces that cover his body, the left fangs of every goblin he had ever killed. And the Morigu meant to begin a new necklace today. He silently climbed down the tree.

  "Listen, parrot face, no more out of you or you get no grub," said the chief to the wounded one. In answer the other picked up his knife and looked at the speaker in front of him. He said nothing.

  The chief reached into a bag of badly cured hide. He pulled out what looked to be a very mouldy human leg, without the foot. He pulled off a piece of rotting meat and spitted it, thrusting it into the fire. He tossed the rest to another.

  Looking at the winner of the fight, he said, "Stab another one, stupid, and I might decide you wouldn't be such bad eating, good looks and all." This jibe was greeted by a barrage of hoots and insults.

  "He's too pretty to eat, but we could take a chunk out of his arse!"

  "A thigh for me!"

  "Not likely. I'd rather eat my own arse than that slime's."

  "You would, scumhole."

  "Suck me, you little turd!" This went on for a while until two of the goblins tore into each other. With a lot of oaths and frequent kicks, the chief finally settled them all down.

  "One more fight and I'm going to take someone's ears as a trophy, see?" He bared his large canines for emphasis.

  "Ya can't blame 'em, Tuk. We've seen no action in a long time," said a smaller goblin as he sharpened his spear point.

  "Quit complaining. We leave these lousy woods in another two days, then we'll join the others. Big war's brewing, plenty of action then," the chief answered. The goblins howled with pleasure at the thought, each crying out the vilest things they could think to do to a captured woman.