He emerged into the empty outpost and sprinted across the open floor. Once he reached the crooked stairway leading down into the shrine, he slowed his pace, hoping to surprise the Lady.

Oh, but She’s probably seen this happen already! Even as rage thundered through his body, tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

“Meadhbh!” he roared as he approached the altar. He held his dagger before him in a trembling hand. “I need to speak with you!”

The Lady manifested before him, Her glowing body lighting the dark temple. She stood on bent knees, as if ready to spring forward at moment’s notice.

“Farris Silvertongue,” She said. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Oh, that’s a fucking surprise,” he rasped between sobs. “Did you see what happened up there? Buried alive, the lot of them. She killed them all!”

“I respect their sacrifice, but I fear it may be in vain.”

“You’re right about that,” said Farris. “I’ll strike you down right now and make sure it was!”

The Lady’s stance straightened. “Farris, please, listen to me. You have the sceptic mind of a Simian, but the bleeding heart of a Man. Your emotional side is clouding your logic once more. Surely you can see that you stand no chance to kill me with mere steel. And the Godslayer will be here any moment. You will not last a second if she sees you.”

Farris paused for a moment, and slowly let the dagger fall to his side.

“I… I just don’t know anymore,” he whispered. “Is this really it?”

The Lady stepped towards Farris and rested a warm hand on his cheek. Her dark blue eyes stared deep into his own, and for a moment, the despair in his body vanished.

“We have one more chance,” She whispered. “But my own fate is already sealed. If you are to stand a chance against the Godslayer, you must do this one thing.”

“Anything,” said Farris, his trembling lips barely able to form the words. “Please.”

“Leave here,” she said. “Leave me to my doom and find Firemaster Fionn out in the battlefield. He’ll know what to do next.”

Farris shook his head. “The ground swallowed them all. He’s dead. He’s dead with the rest of them.”

“No,” said the Lady. “He survived. This, I know. He—” She cut herself off. “The Godslayer is here. Go, now. Find him, whatever the cost!”

Farris turned to see the figure of Morrígan slowly descending the crooked stairs. Without making a sound, he darted across the shrine to hide behind a bent column at the foot of the stairway. Although his body shook with anguish, he focused on calming his breath, and becoming as silent as the stone that surrounded them.

“Meadhbh,” came Morrígan’s voice. “Your own light forsakes you.”

“My light has forsaken us all,” replied Meadhbh. “But this was destined long before Creation.”

Morrígan appeared at the bottom of the stairwell, her feathered wings moving gracefully with each step.

“I have seen the Beginning and the End,” said Morrígan, “But it was only a glimpse. I want you to show me more.”

“You have seen far more than the Lord intends,” said Meadhbh. “And He will not fall so easily.”

“Yes,” said Morrígan, raising a hand before her. “Not as easily as you.”

Morrígan threw her hands forward, and fire streamed from her fingers. Meadhbh recoiled, and the light surrounding Her light grew in intensity, absorbing Morrígan’s flames with its brilliance. For a time, it held, but the Lady’s face showed the strain of effort, changing from the perpetual regal look it always held.

Morrígan’s assault continued, and with each passing second, the Lady exhibited further mortal emotions: Anguish and agony. Grief and despair. And then defeat, with eyes closed, and head bowed.

As the flames consumed Her, She screamed. To hear a god cry with pain was as unnatural as a darkened sun or a dried ocean.

Under the cover of that terrible sound, Farris slipped from his hiding place and tore up the crooked stairs, not daring to look back as he did. Fortunately, Morrígan had not noticed him, for by the time Farris reached the top of the stairwell, the Lady’s cries were muted. And the pulsating blue light that once shone through the temple was no more.

Chapter 9:

The Grey Plague

Argyll the Silverback woke with a stir. His mouth was dry, his mind was foggy, but after a few orientating moments, he realised he was in a bed in one of the clinics of the Triad’s hospital wing.

The Godslayer… King Diarmuid… What happened?

Only now did he see he was not alone. Ruairí Ó Críodáin sat beside his bed. His eyes were closed, with his fingers clasped around one another.

“If you’re praying that I wake up, you can stop now,” said Argyll.

The Human jumped. “He’s awake!” he cried, turning his head towards the clinic’s door. He was almost giddy with the news.

“Get them to bring me something to eat too,” added Argyll. “And why can’t I feel my legs?”

Ruairí’s expression went dark. He went to speak, but the words failed him.

The door to the clinic burst open, and three healers rushed in to attend to Argyll. After taking some measurements pertaining to his heartbeat and his breathing, one of them, a Human male with a neatly trimmed grey beard, placed a hand on Argyll’s shoulder.

“I’m afraid there has been significant damage done to your lower spine. We’ve done all we can but….”

No, thought Argyll. A pang of terror ripped through his body at the realisation that he had no feeling from the waist down. He tried to move his toes, his feet, then his legs, but none complied, as if he was trying to move limbs he never possessed. The healer was still speaking, but the words seemed drift through Argyll’s mind, only some being comprehended at a time. Every so often, some words the healer said landed, “…unlikely to walk again,” and “maybe… with lots of intensive work,” or “… a very slim chance.”

Argyll pressed his hand against his head.

No. I am their rock. I cannot falter.

“Spare me the details,” he barked at the healer. “If I cannot walk, then fetch me a chair set upon wheels.”

He turned towards Ruairí. “And we have much to discuss. Tell me what became of the horde.”

The healers quickly withdrew to do as they were asked, which often happened when Argyll used that tone. Ruairí was trembling, only ever so slightly, and there was a slight quiver in his voice when he spoke.

“After Morrígan and you… fought,” began Ruairí, “She vanished, and the horde fell without her. Afterwards, the army of the Triad took flight to Dromán, where Lady Meadhbh resides. The plan was to defend her, in case Morrígan came to kill her too.”

Argyll had many questions. How much time has passed since I fell? Which ships did they take? Were the Church involved? Did Fionn go with them?

They would get to those eventually, he reckoned, but one thought brought a smile to his lips.

“The Lady Meadhbh?” Argyll asked. “But I thought you didn’t believe in the Trinity beyond Lord Seletoth.”

“I did,” said Ruairí. “But I spoke to Pyromaster Fionn before he flew out. And….” Ruairí flinched. His gaze broke from Argyll and went straight to the floor.