Pagan Fire (10 page)

The man smiled and stroked the coal-black breast feathers of the raven. “Tis but a pet. She means no harm and was doubtless tired of waiting for me perched outside on one of your fine trees.”

Magrethe waited a moment, looking pointedly from man to creature and back again. When it became obvious he didn’t intend to send it away, she set her mouth in a firm line, and lifted a document from the pile of precious parchment neatly stacked on one side of her desk. She looked it over, sighed, and handed it to Maere. “This is the betrothal agreement. Turn it over,” she said. “It bears your uncle’s mark and seal.”

Maere glanced at the paper, but couldn’t really see it. She felt eyes on her from all around. She looked up to find the strange demon of a man and the raven both staring at her, their gaze so tangible it all but pierced her flesh.

The man took a step toward Maere and she instinctively withdrew. “Can it be true that you do not remember me?” he said. “Are you certain you have no recollection of the times we shared?” The words were low, somehow expectant.

Maere cleared her throat, searching for her voice. “Aye, I remember you,” she finally said. But the smile that had formed on his face quickly faded when she added, “You’re the man who came when I was in the anchorage.”

“Of course. I should have recognized you myself,” the abbess said. She clasped her hands in front of her. “Why didn’t you make yourself known to us upon your arrival in Glastonbury?”

Maere interrupted before he could respond. “Tell me true, sir. Who are you?” She held her breath, waiting for the response. Legend had it that if you asked a demon a direct question he couldn’t lie in the answering. And if ever a demon existed, it was this man.

He smiled again, a flash of bright white against his olive skin, and bowed before her. “I would be most happy to introduce myself. It is as you have said. I am the same who visited you when you were ensconced. But I am also your betrothed, Dylan mac Connall.” He watched her, his gaze hard.

She squirmed under his scrutiny. Did he expect her to respond in some way to his declaration? She was his betrothed? Oh but this had to be one of her dreams, this could not be happening in reality.

“You would say, in truth, my name means nothing to you?” The man leaned forward, pressing his point. “What new game are you playing, Maere?”

Maere squared her shoulders as anger began to work its way through the raw fear that had overpowered her earlier. She shook off the question. Game, indeed. “You have not answered the abbess. Why didn’t you identify yourself to us?”

“I prefer to take my time with such matters. It is my way,” he said. “Besides, I assumed you would know who I was.”

Maere pitched the parchment to the floor. “A document from an uncle I haven’t seen in ten years means nothing to me.” She let her gaze wander over him. She raised her chin and tossed her loose hair behind her. Seelie was right. She desperately needed to find some courage. Her voice quavered when she spoke again. “You and your claimed betrothal mean nothing to me.” The raven opened its beak and snapped it closed in her direction. Maere moved sideways, away from the bird, and crossed her arms in front of her. “I will not leave the abbey.”

Dylan took a step forward. “You will leave, Maere cu Llwyr. And when you do, it will be as my wife.” The bird tested its wings for a moment, then flew to the window. It perched on the sill and turned jerkily to face the occupants of the room. The animal screeched loudly and disappeared through the window, its black form lost to the night. Dylan glanced in its direction as he addressed the abbess. “Please explain her duties to her. I’ll return in an hour with one of your priests.” He watched Maere for a moment. “Have your belongings gathered and be ready. I’ll not be kept waiting any longer.” He pivoted on the ball of his foot and left the abbess’ room.

Maere turned to Magrethe. “You cannot mean for me to go with this, this man.” She gestured toward the door Dylan had just passed through. “You saw him with that creature of his. He is
not
Christian!”

Magrethe rose and approached the younger woman, forcing a smile on her drawn face. “Yes. And as I said, what a wonderful opportunity for you, to be handed a pagan soul for conversion.” She put her palms together. “I will have a word with Father John. Given the change of events, it would be unseemly to go to your betrothed after such a penance as flagellation.”

She took Maere’s hands in her own and nodded toward the document where it rested on the floor. “The paper is binding and you must honor it. Your good uncle himself told me he would find you a husband by your eighteenth year.”

“I remember you telling me this.” Maere fell back into the chair. “So much time has passed. I had hoped he’d forgotten all about me.”

Magrethe lightly touched Maere’s cheek. “If it were up to me, you’d stay.” She shrugged. “But it is not my place. I’m sorry, but you really have no choice in this matter.” The abbess blinked and a thin tear traveled down her lightly lined cheek. “No choice whatsoever, child.”

Chapter Eleven

“You will explain yourself to me, Dylan mac Connall.” Morrigu paced back and forth in front of him. The sharp pine needles littering the ground caused her no obvious discomfort as her bare feet padded over them.

Dylan glanced up from where he sat on the damp ground, then stretched his long, muscular legs out in front of him. The fire he’d lit cast a warm glow on the goddess’ body. Normally, the sight of her in human form was enough to drive all reason from his mind. But now, he was surprised to find he actually had other thoughts. Thoughts of long copper hair and sea-green eyes. Eyes so innocent and beguiling – such a contrast to the woman before him – whose own eyes now shone with venom.

“There is nothing to explain,” he said, his voice tense.

“You are greatly mistaken.” She leaned over and aimed a sharp fingernail straight at his face. “There is much you must answer for.”

He pushed her hand aside. “Such as?”

“What are those words of marriage of which you spoke? That was not part of the agreement we made earlier. You were to only act on the betrothal, not actually wed the girl!” She straightened and presented her slim, muscled back to him. “You test my patience, mortal. Tell me now this marriage will not take place and I may let you live.”

Dylan pushed himself to his feet and stood directly behind Morrigu, a good head taller than she. But he knew this was part of her game, her temptation, to appear small and vulnerable. To appear as if she needed him. He shook his head. She didn’t need him. He realized that now. But a question remained: Did
he
need
her
? He shifted uneasily. “Are you jealous, Goddess?” he finally asked.

Morrigu turned on him in fury, her silver eyes glowing with the reflection of her sister Nimue, the moon. “I’m not certain I heard you correctly,” she said, her voice low and forbidding. “Have you accused me of possessing one of your
human
emotions?”

“You forget too easily how well I know you, Morrigu.” Dylan stared hard into those glinting eyes. “Dowse the fire that burns in your breast. It’s most unbecoming.”

She reached out and grabbed the back of his neck with her hand, scraping her nails along the tender flesh. Dylan flinched, but his gaze never wavered. Morrigu took a deep breath and, as the air filled her lungs, her body stretched and grew. Another breath and she was two feet taller than him. A third breath and she was so large, Dylan only reached her navel. She released him and crossed her arms in front of her. She looked down, a smug smile on her lips. “You were saying?”

Dylan walked in silence to the pine tree behind him. He touched his forehead to the rough bark and immediately saw in his mind’s eye an explosion of golden-yellow color, the amber lifeblood of the tree. “Bend, that I might stand tall,” he whispered. The tree began to shake as he stepped away from it. It continued to tremble and quake, sending dead needles to the ground as, ever so slowly, the thick trunk bowed before him. Dylan grabbed hold near the center of the tree, settled his feet on a stout branch, and said, “Rise.” Then, just as slowly, the pine righted itself until Dylan was face-to-face with Morrigu.

“I gave you this power and you would challenge me with it?” The goddess’ cheeks grew red with anger. “Without me, you are nothing,” she hissed.

“I am Dylan, son of Fox and Dara mac Connall, same as I have always been.” He lowered his voice. “With or without your assistance.”

Morrigu tossed her head back and laughed. The loud, cold sound shook the very air itself, its vibration causing all manner of forest creature to flee their nests this dark night. “Do you think you can cast me aside so easily? Do you believe there would be no repercussions for such an action?”

Dylan leaned into the tree branches and they wrapped themselves around him, cradling and protecting him. The trees were his true friends, his instincts told him that. The smell of pine tar filled his nostrils, an aroma he knew would always remind him now of Morrigu, of this moment. “It was arranged by our families all those years ago,” he said. “You know this. I must marry her. I’m bound by their pledge. ”

“No, Dylan, you aren’t. Take her away from the convent, if you insist on hiding her from Eugis, but deposit her with some unsuspecting farmer.” She smiled. “Then you and I can move on to other things.”

“For how long, Morrigu?” Dylan snorted. “How long will your fascination with me endure before you’re ready to take the next man?” Dylan touched the scar on his cheek, the scar she’d left behind the night she first made love to him.

“I would see the circle mended, Morrigu,” he said. “It was broken the night Eugis murdered our families and took Maere away from me. Do you think it’s been easy for me, spending all these years waiting, while I learned everything I could about the nature of power? Especially once I knew how to travel outside of my body and discovered where she was hidden away?” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and his eyes met the goddess’ again. “I won’t wait any longer. I am going to marry the girl, with or without your permission. Our destiny will be fulfilled.”

Morrigu nodded. “Ah, I understand,” she whispered. “You seek her power. You believe the first who beds her will share the gift she possesses, don’t you?”

Dylan reached back to rub away the tension in his neck but quickly pulled his hand away when he felt stickiness. It was covered with blood left from the goddess’ touch. Wiping his hand on his tunic, he said, “That has nothing to do with this.”

“Of course it does. You cannot fool me.” She took a step forward. “Simply take the girl’s virginity and be done with her.”

He considered the goddess’ words for a moment, the coldness of them. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time. And he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. “No matter how much you may desire it, Maere is my betrothed and I won’t dishonor her. Manfred was my teacher and friend and I promised him I’d always take care of the girl.”

Morrigu laughed again, and her body slowly resumed its smaller, more mortal, form. Dylan bade the tree to let him down to the ground. In two long strides, he stood behind the goddess. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I would know what it is you find so amusing.”

“You. And your sense of honor. Do you really think that matters?” She jerked away from him. “This world exists for the strong and for those who would seize life and power, not for those who hide behind pretty words of promises to be fulfilled. I’ll tell you, Dylan, I’d assumed Aethelred and I had taught you to be more discerning.” Morrigu reached out and ran a fingertip across and down his chest. “Now, this is the last opportunity I will grant you to change your mind. Call off the marriage.”

“I cannot,” he insisted, standing his ground and refusing to waver before the goddess. “The circle
must
be redeemed. You know this. Balance cannot be restored until Maere and I are joined and Eugis is punished.”

Morrigu spun around, presenting him with her back again. “I could kill you, you know.” Her words hung in the air between them like icicles on a blustery winter night.

“I know this.” Dylan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But, like you, I do what I must.”

She held her arms out to her sides and long black feathers began to sprout from the flesh, forming thick raven wings. Morrigu turned her head and looked at him sideways. “I won’t, though.” She shook her long hair and a cascade of feathers grew, starting at her forehead and running the length of her back. “I will make you beg for forgiveness for your betrayal of me. And you will suffer for your stubbornness.” She stood on tiptoes and took flight, half-woman, half-bird, and circled a few feet above his head. “So will Maere. It will be much more interesting than simply killing you.” With an ear-splitting screech, she bolted straight into the sky, a dark outline against the stars before she blended with the night.

* * * *

Maere and Seelie walked, arms linked, down the long, sparsely-lit corridor leading from their cells to the convent chapel. Scattered candles, placed in sconces high on the stone walls, offered uneven blotches of dim yellow light and cast odd shadows as the women moved along. It would be frightening, if it weren’t so familiar.

Seelie squeezed Maere’s hand. “Everything will be fine,” she whispered. “I feel it in my bones.”

“I only wish it were so,” Maere said, her voice equally hushed. “I don’t want to leave, Seelie.” She began to cry. The quiet sobbing bounced off the heavy walls and reverberated in her ears. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Hush, now.” Seelie placed her arm around Maere’s shoulders and hugged her as they continued to walk. “You’re a strong young woman. You just don’t realize it yet.”

Maere sighed. She lifted the corner of her dark green tunic – the only article of clothing she wore to indicate she was to be a bride – and wiped away her tears. It seemed so absurd to her that she should be wearing the wedding color, the color of fertility, considering she was about to be married to a demon. “If only I had your faith.”