THE MORRIGAN CHRONICLES
Chapter 26

NEIL

The castle was in view a few hours before we reached it because it was a massive fortress. The grey stones rose out of the ground, in keeping with the monochromatic scheme of the land. It resembled an English castle I once saw in a movie. A moat that dried up long ago was now a deep trench. The gates were down and open. No guards were posted outside. This was not a place that was trying to keep anyone out. It was a place that welcomed any and all in, never to leave.

We walked across the bridge to the gates and into the courtyard. There was no one in sight. The far side of the courtyard had a set of stairs leading inside. The steps were each three feet high, the arched doorways at least fifty. I craned my neck to look up to the top tower. It rivaled any skyscraper in New York City.

Emrys led the way and we scaled the stairs to the main entrance. Every step closer increased the putrid smell that came from within.

“What is that stench?” I asked. “It smells like a hundred corpses that have been dug up after a year.”

Nobody answered. Which meant that nobody knew.

We stepped inside the entrance and Emrys projected his voice, “We have an invitation stone and a gift. A Cup of Plenty to be presented in return for an audience with the King.”

We looked at one another but nobody spoke. Seconds ticked by slowly but felt slower still. The putrid smell increased though we hadn’t moved. The ground began to vibrate slightly. The door at the end of the hall opened and the Godless stepped through.

With the opening of the door the smell rushed down to hit us in the

face. I could see everyone’s eyes begin to water and noses wrinkle. My stomach lurched, fighting to keep my gag reflex from winning. The Godless were as massive as we expected, towering around thirty feet high. The one large bulbous eye planted in the center of their head is what I expected would shock me most. Seeing a real life Cyclops was startling enough, but the zombie like appearance had my nerves screaming at me to get out of there.

Tendrils of flesh hung from their head where hair should be. Their skin and eyes were the same grey hue of the landscape. Their sunken bellies and protruding ribs increased their grotesqueness. A simple piece of cloth was tied around their waists but their testicles hung below, swaying as they walked. Their skin hung from them like limp dried crepe paper. Cian whispered, “This is what happens without the Gods.” I couldn’t tell if he was stating or asking.

Four guards arrived with spears pointed at us. The head guard said, “Let me see the stone and the cup.”

Cian removed the cup from its tattoo on his arm and held it up as Morrigan held up the stone. The guard reached for the cup and Cian quickly returned it to his arm.

He bowed and said, “My apologies, I am prepared to present the cup to the King and only the King.”

The guard grumbled something to the others, the single eye looking like it would pop under the pressure of the scowl on his face.

The guard said, “Follow me.”

We walked with two guards in front of us and the other two behind us. I wished for supernatural powers against such beasts. If we had to fight our way out, Morrigan, Cian and even Emrys were equipped to do so. They would protect me since I was needed, but I wouldn’t be able to protect myself.

We wound through the halls deep into the belly of the castle until we entered into the throne room. The walls rose at least a hundred feet into the air. Dozens of Godless were assembled there. Male and female, all looking as emaciated as the guards. There were no tables or chairs, tapestries or adornments. The King sat on a throne at the end of the room with his legs wide, elbows on his knees. He saw us and indulged in a long scratch of his testicles as we approached.

The guards had us stop about ten feet from the King, and we took a

knee out of respect. The head guard went to him and whispered in his ear. He looked no better off than the others. Though they didn’t look feeble, they looked very aged and lifeless.

The King said, “So you have an invitation stone and a Cup of Plenty. You have an audience with me. I am King Harris. Speak.”

Cian stood, removed the Cup from his forearm once again, took the stone from Morrigan and approached the King. He knelt and held his hands out as he spoke. “King Harris, we are of the Earthly realm. I am Cian, King of the Fomoire. I travel with Morrigan, Queen of the Tuatha, the great Druid Lord Emrys, and the true King of Erin, Neil. Long ago, one of the Druids sent the sword of the Tuatha, originally forged here and gifted to one of Morrigan’s descendants, back here in order to protect it from falling in the hands of evil. It is bonded to Neil, King of Erin, and we have come to retrieve it. We bring a Cup of Plenty so that you and your people will never thirst again, as a gift to show respect to you and your people.”

The King’s bulbous eye bounced around each of us. It’s hard to read someone when they only have one eye, and I couldn’t tell how this was going.

The King motioned to one of the guards who took the stone and cup from Cian and gave it to the King.

He took the cup and held it to his lips. Slowly, he tipped his head back. The cup was working; he drank for a long time and then passed it to another. The murmurs grew and the Godless began pushing one another to get to the cup.

“Enough!” the King bellowed.

The crowd stilled.

He continued, “You will all get a turn, my people. This is a great day.” The Godless cheered. We smiled. This was turning out well.

He smiled and said, “It’s been centuries since I’ve drunk my fill. I cannot thank you enough. The few dozen of us that you see are all that is left of us. We do not die of starvation or thirst, because there is no God to take our lives. The only way we experience death is if killed, and we cease to exist since there is no God to take us to the afterlife. Most of my people have gone mad and begged for loved ones to kill them so they didn’t have to endure this anymore.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNøvᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Great King Harris,” Cian began. “We hope that the gift is pleasing enough that you would return the Great Sword of the Tuatha to Neil?”

The King nodded and made a gesture with his hand to one of the guards. The Godless continued to pass the cup around.

A few minutes later the guard appeared with the sword. I was drawn to it. The closer the guard brought it the more anticipation filled me. He handed the hilt of it to me and I took it. The sword glowed momentarily and I felt a rush of power pulse through me.

“He’s definitely the one bonded to the sword. Consider it returned and your gift accepted.” King Harris nodded to me.

“We have one more thing to ask of you, Great King,” Emrys spoke now. “The Gods of our world are trying to unleash a realm of demons in order to destroy us. We are trying to stop them from doing this and the sword of the Tuatha is the only enchanted one in our realm. The only thing we have to protect ourselves from the Gods and the demons as well if they are released. We know it is an imposition but we are humbled to ask if you would grace us with more weapons so that our realm is not destroyed.”

The King once again returned to scratching his testicles. They bobbed around as he pondered then said, “What do you present as gift for this favor?”

Emrys spread his arms and answered, “We traveled in great haste, and did not have time to bring a gift for this request. But the Tuatha have a cauldron that never empties and never leaves anyone hungry, much like the

Cup of Plenty. We could return with it?”

I looked at Morrigan since the cauldron was of the Tuatha. If she didn’t know of the plan she showed no surprise. She wore that damn blank face that she put on when she didn’t want anyone to know what she was thinking.

The Cup of Plenty was passed back to the King and he took another long drink from it. Once he cleared his throat he began, “I am no fool. You want me to give you weapons that would kill Gods in return for a cauldron that you may or may not bring back. We have starved here for centuries, only eating the few who are stupid enough to try to get those weapons. We can’t leave our realm because the Gods of other realms would surely hunt us down and torture us more than we are tortured now. If your realm loses its Gods, then that would leave us free to go there and eat whatever animals and vegetation are left.”

“We didn’t think this plan through thoroughly, did we,” Cian mumbled.

“Clearly,” Morrigan. replied

The King said, “I presented the sword to the King of Erin. He is the one bonded to it. And out of respect for the time when it was forged and

gifted, I will allow him to return to your realm.”

King Harris tossed me the stone we used to enter from New York.

He turned to look at the others. “He, and he alone, may leave. You three will stay and be our feast and celebration.” “No!” I yelled.

One of the guards used his spear to knock me to my knees. Morrigan rushed to my side and helped me up.

Her eyes looked softly at me. Pleading with me. She said urgently, “Neil, you must go. You must take the sword and find Conall. Please.”

I cupped her face in my hands. “I can’t leave you. I won’t leave you. I won’t do it.”

Morrigan gently removed my hands form her face and handed me the sword. “Neil, trust in me. Trust in me. Take the sword and get back to that giant rock as fast as you can. The stone will allow you to enter it. Focus on our Great Oak. Think of nothing else. This rock will work, even though you’re human. It will get you back. You must survive this. You must get the sword back.”

I felt like a helpless coward. I slowly stepped backwards, looking at Morrigan. Her face was relieved. I looked at Emrys and Cian expecting mocking expressions, accusing me of cowardice, but they looked relieved as well. I knew they planned to survive somehow but as skilled as they were, the Godless were massive. They were going to sacrifice themselves so that I could return the sword to Conall. They would die here and I would live. My only purpose, not to be the leader or hero—just dumb luck being born with the right blood in my veins to carry a sword back to its real owner.

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