The Raven Queen Read online

  When she walked through the heavy wooden gates into the courtyard of the fortress her spirits lifted. This might be easier than she thought.

  The last time she had been here it had been like the castle of the dead. Mac Cumhaill’s longing for his lost wife, his lethargy, his rejection of everything outside of his own misery had infected the place like a cancer. Not even noise had been allowed. When she had last walked through the Fianna stronghold her footsteps had hit the packed earth with a dull noise that had faded instantly. The Fianna themselves had been dull-eyed and listless, men whose world had passed them by, marooned in time.

  But now the Fianna gathered around her, laughing, slapping her on the back so hard that she was almost sent sprawling face down in the dirt as they crowded close. There was colour in their faces again and their eyes sparkled with life.

  ‘You all look … um, you’re looking …’ Maddy desperately groped for the right word, one that wouldn’t offend the notoriously touchy warriors.

  ‘Alive?’ said one.

  ‘Like real men again?’ said another.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Maddy. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I think we needed to be reminded of who we were and get a taste of it again, even if it was only for a wee while,’ said the guard who had ordered the gates open. ‘It felt good to ride in the woods again, to be on the track of a foe …’

  ‘… to be half killed by lightning strikes and angry trees?’ said Maddy, remembering his words on the gate.

  The Fianna roared with laughter again. It made Maddy a bit twitchy, they had changed so much.

  ‘That too,’ he said. ‘There is nothing like the risk of death to remind you how good it is to be alive. When you come through on the other side, everything feels better, louder, sweeter, saltier.’

  ‘Right,’ said Maddy. ‘And how is mac Cumhaill?’ she asked as the guard swung the wooden double doors to Finn mac Cumhaill’s hall wide for her.

  The guard lowered his voice. ‘He is better,’ he said. ‘Like us, he remembered what it was like to be really alive and not have your spirit trapped between the pages of a book. He came back to himself a little bit. But he still grieves. His grief has always kept him bound.’ The guard shook his head. ‘I have heard you have a honeyed tongue, little Hound, but you will have trouble bringing mac Cumhaill around to your way of thinking. He is still a High King and will only do what suits himself.’

  ‘I have to try,’ said Maddy. ‘You haven’t heard what Meabh has planned.’

  She was about to walk through the doors when the guard stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. ‘If it all gets too much for you, little Hound, there is a place here for you among our ranks. It’s a sore responsibility to place on the shoulders of one so young and you have our respect.’

  Maddy was shocked. She had always assumed the Fianna thought she was trouble. A warm feeling spread in her belly and she could have hugged the sombre-faced guard.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Really, I mean that.’

  The life in the courtyard had seeped into the Fianna’s great hall as well. A soft light filtered through the mist of dreams, bathing the shields and swords hung on the walls. Brightly coloured banners were draped in soft folds around the hall and the floor was strewn with green rushes that gave off a sweet scent as Maddy walked on them. Cleanly scrubbed long benches spanned the width of the hall and the men who sat at them were laughing, talking, mending clothes, cleaning weaponry. All of them looked bright and alive.

  But Finn mac Cumhaill still brooded. Although some of the colour had come back into his face, he still sat on his dais, silent and unsmiling on his tall wooden throne that was draped in animal furs. He wore the same blue plaid as his men, his dark curling hair tumbling about his shoulders. Bran, his faithful wolfhound, was in her customary place by his knee. He no longer looked exhausted, but his grief was etched plain upon his face and his weeping women still sat at the foot of his throne. There were three of them, all with tears streaming down their faces. Their cheeks were marked with grooves where the water had worn a path, while the front of their dresses and their laps were dark and marbled from the salt. Mac Cumhaill would not weep for his wife so he used the magic of Tír na nÓg to make these women weep for him, day and night, even when they slept, for the whole of their long existence in this place.

  ‘Welcome, little Hound,’ said Finn mac Cumhaill. ‘I see you come to grace my hall again.’

  ‘I do, lord, but also to ask for aid,’ said Maddy.

  Finn nodded. ‘It was always thus with Hounds. They always came to me with their hands outstretched.’

  ‘But they did not do it for themselves, lord, but for others,’ said Maddy.

  ‘Does it matter? The point is they asked and always took. It made me grow weary,’ said Finn.

  Maddy looked at the weeping women, condemned to be weighed down by another’s grief for the rest of their lives. ‘You did it once yourself, lord, until you forgot who you are,’ she said, her eyes sparking with anger.

  Finn glared at her. ‘You have big teeth for a little Hound, but tread carefully – pups can be drowned.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’ said Maddy. ‘Because if it is, please, go ahead, let’s just get it over with.’ She flopped to the floor and crossed her legs, bracing her elbow against her knee so she had something to rest her head on.

  ‘I haven’t slept for days, as usual, I smell, as usual, and this time the problems are bigger and I am completely on my own,’ said Maddy. Her voice cracked with unshed tears but she didn’t care. It was all too much. She started crying, noisily and snottily, like a toddler. She knew she looked ridiculous and was probably ruining her reputation among the Fianna as the hard-nosed, brave Hound. ‘You’re still as crazy as you were the last time I was here and I can’t be bothered wasting hours persuading you to do what you know is the right thing to do. What’s the point? Even if I end up saving the world again, there’ll just be another problem tomorrow. I mean, if you, with your big army, can’t be bothered to get off your great backside to help out your own people any more, why the hell am I bothering?’ Maddy hiccuped and wiped at her wet face with her sleeve.

  Finn got up and slowly walked down the steps of his dais and over to Maddy, his feet soft in the rushes. He crouched down to look into her face and said, ‘What do you mean, that I am crazy?’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Maddy. ‘LOOK at them!’ She pointed at the weeping women. ‘Who does that to someone else? So you miss your wife. OK, we get it, but you are actually forcing other people to grieve for her alongside you, and not just for a little while – oh no! Those poor women have been grieving for centuries. Do you not think they might have something else they would like to be doing?’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Finn.

  ‘ANYTHING!’ Maddy screamed.

  Finn looked over his shoulder at the women. ‘That is the way you are, Maddy. That’s why everything around here is so attracted to you; it’s not just the fact that you are the Hound. All that grief and rage, it’s powerful stuff in a place like Tír na nÓg. You know that, you’ve known it for nearly two years now. You cry out that all you want is a normal life and still you hang on to it. You’re no better than me.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Maddy. ‘See, that was the old me. I’m not going back to being like that, not if I get out of here alive. I love my parents so much, but if grieving for them every day and hanging on to the past means that I end up like you … no way. Life is for living, and if grieving too long turns you into the walking dead then I am going to start enjoying what I’ve got.’ Maddy cried harder. ‘Would your wife have wanted you to live like this? Would she? I know my parents wouldn’t have wanted this much pain for me. And if you keep picking at the scab, the way you do with those poor women, the pain never gets any better.’

  Finn sat back on his heels and looked at her. Maddy stopped crying for a moment and looked at him hopefully, but his expression was unreadable.

  ‘So what do you need to do?’ he
asked.

  ‘I need to get out of here, in one piece, and pick up my two cousins on the way,’ said Maddy, sniffing back snot in a loud snort that would have her granny reaching for a hanky.

  ‘And what do you need to do that?’

  ‘I need big hairy men with big sharp swords, who can slow the Tuatha down for long enough so I can use the mist of dreams to lock the mound. Know anyone who’s got some of them?’ she asked.

  Finn chuckled. ‘Lock the mound, eh?’ he said. He looked at her with admiration. ‘That’s a big task. Not even Cú Chulainn ever tried to do that. So what do you need us to do?’

  Maddy looked up at him in shock while he roared with laughter, the men in the hall joining in. ‘I admit it, little Hound, your honeyed words have won me over. Who could resist such charm, such oratory?’

  Maddy gaped at him. ‘You were going to help me all along? Then why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘Because it was amusing to watch you rage and let your tongue loose,’ said Finn. ‘We have little other entertainment here.’ He looked back over his shoulder at the weeping women, who gazed back, their seeping eyes hopeful. He frowned. ‘But you are right. Perhaps it is time to find a more fitting tribute to my wife. One that does not cause another person sorrow.’

  He stood up and held a hand out to Maddy, pulling her to her feet. ‘So I ask again, little Hound, what do you need the Fianna to do for you?’

  ‘It’s not much,’ said Maddy. ‘I need a distraction, something that will keep the Tuatha busy long enough for me to get to the mound on my own. I also need my cousins and two wolves to be rescued.’

  ‘Is that all?’ said Finn. ‘You heard her, lads! Get those weapons down from the wall, saddle up your horses and unfurl your banners. The Fianna are riding again!’ The men cheered and the hall burst into activity as they rushed to and fro, dogs jumping up and barking with excitement.

  ‘So,’ said Finn, as the din of organized chaos crashed around them, ‘this distraction – do you have something in mind?’

  ‘Funnily enough, this time I do have a plan,’ said Maddy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Roisin cringed as the Tuatha army crashed its way through the burnt forest. Their giant white horses brushed against fragile trees, crumbling scorched bark in their wake. Their huge hoofs thudded down, sending up clouds of thick black soot. She could only imagine what the forest must be feeling as the army rode through on its way to the White Tower. It must be like nails scraping over an open wound, she thought.

  The Morrighan was taking no chances that her prisoners would escape. Danny and Roisin had been lifted up on to the Tuatha horses and their mounts plodded obediently next to hers. Like their boats, Tuatha horses only did what the Tuatha willed. Roisin and Danny could have been expert riders, but nothing they could do would persuade these giant beasts to disobey the orders given to them by Tuatha. The Morrighan had not seemed to be too bothered about the possibility of Nero slipping away into the forest – at least she had made no attempt to restrain him. The grey wolf loped beside them, careful where he put his paws on the sharp carbon of the forest floor. Roisin knew he was desperate to get to Fenris and so far they had been making good time. The forest around them was silent and there was no sign of Liadan’s soldiers.

  The monarchs were also kept close, much to the disgust of Sorcha and Nuada, who insisted that they alone, of all the courts, were the only ones who remained loyal to the High Queen’s rule. But the Morrighan was not convinced. Spring, Summer and Autumn were all forced to ride with her and her human prisoners. Their combined troops spread out behind them, each under the command of a trusted captain. Everyone was sullen and unhappy and the monarchs rode in an angry silence.

  Danny clung to his saddle, looking slightly green around the gills. He wasn’t comfortable on horseback – the rocking movement always made him slightly seasick. Roisin couldn’t make herself heard over the thundering of the hoofs and jingle of tack but she smiled at him and mouthed, Are you OK? He gave her a weak smile back and a thumbs up. Behind them, the casket had been wrapped in a rough brown cloth and placed on a cart and was being dragged by two mounted Tuatha.

  A shout rippled along the front ranks and the Morrighan pulled her horse to a halt as a scout galloped along the line. He reined in before her, his horse’s white coat gunmetal grey with sweat and ash, its chest foamy with saliva.

  ‘What news?’ said the Morrighan.

  ‘There is no sign of any enemy, Great Queen, not even scouts,’ he said.

  ‘How far have you ranged?’ she asked.

  ‘Twenty-five miles in all directions, Majesty,’ said the scout. ‘We are the only living things moving in the forest and out on the plains. It looks as if the faeries who have not joined us have gone to ground.’

  Now that the fire had thinned out the forest, they could see across the lake to the White Tower – Liadan’s tower. It made Roisin shudder to look at it. It rose from a wide base of rough-hewn caves, getting narrower and more complicated and intricate as it climbed. Towers shot from the top of it in all directions like frozen fireworks. It was as if someone had started to build their dream castle and then turned it into a nightmare, cramming it with every possible feature, from overblown ornate plastering to hopelessly frilly balconies edging top windows, until it became grotesque with its own fancies.

  ‘You are dismissed,’ the Morrighan said to the scout. He bowed his head and turned his horse’s head to work his way through the ranks.

  Aengus Óg nudged his horse forward. ‘What is Cernunnos playing at?’ he asked. ‘Does he mean to hold out in the White Tower until winter comes and his wife’s power grows stronger?’

  ‘No, that is not his way,’ said the Morrighan. ‘Cernunnos never had time for sieges – he thought they were a coward’s way of waging war.’

  ‘Then where is he?’ asked Nuada.

  ‘He always was cunning in battle,’ said Meabh, spurring her horse forward to join Aengus Óg. ‘He’s leading us into a bottleneck.’ She pointed to the narrow road that led from the beach around the hill where the tower squatted, weaving round and round like a dusty ribbon until it reached the bronze gates of the tower, flashing in the sun.

  ‘I see his plan,’ said the Morrighan. ‘He hopes to put us in such a position that our greater numbers will be no advantage at all.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see it,’ said Niamh petulantly, while Sorcha sighed and rolled her eyes.

  ‘Look, bubble-head,’ said Meabh, pointing to the road that wound up to the tower gates. ‘See how wide that road is?’ Niamh nodded. ‘How many soldiers do you think can travel abreast there?’

  Niamh frowned. ‘Two?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Meabh. ‘Liadan and Cernunnos can hold off this great army at the gates of the White Tower with just a handful of men, because they only need to fight us two at a time. Our troops will have to queue on the road and wait their turn to do battle, while Liadan’s elves pick us off, two by two. We could lose half our army just trying to breach the gates, and it will take weeks.’

  ‘But you can make sure this doesn’t happen, can you not, Great Queen?’ asked Sorcha. ‘With your help, we can take this advantage away.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said the Morrighan, nodding her veiled head. ‘Do you and your men have something to stop your ears?’

  They all nodded. Roisin and Danny looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. ‘We don’t,’ said Danny.

  ‘That is hardly our concern,’ sneered Sorcha, while the Morrighan said nothing.

  ‘Meabh, ride on ahead and get us through the lake. It seems that the ice bridge has conveniently melted,’ said the Morrighan. As Meabh went to ride past her, the Morrighan grabbed her arm. ‘I’ll be watching you, Meabh.’

  Meabh nodded and spurred her horse into a gallop. The Morrighan stood up in her stirrups and called to the army behind her. ‘As soon as Queen Meabh clears a path, the cavalry will ride hell for leather and aim for the beach. Foot soldiers, I want you to run behind
. Once we get to the beach your troops are to form ranks. Foot soldiers are to breach the road first, cavalry will follow behind. Once we reach the gates, we will take stock.’

  Roisin turned her head and saw the captains of the three courts nodding and passing the orders on to their seconds-in-command, who passed them on to the cavalry and so on, until the Morrighan’s words rippled through the waiting ranks. She licked her lips nervously and sat deep in the saddle to get a better seat and took a tighter grip on her horse’s reins. Danny whistled to get Nero’s attention. ‘Be careful,’ he said.

  The grey wolf nodded, his face tight with tension.

  The world stood still as the assembled army watched Meabh gallop down to the stony beach. No wind blew across their faces or set banners snapping. There was not a sound from the assembled troops behind her. All eyes were focused on the red-haired figure as she slowed her horse to a walk. Meabh held up her hand and called out and the waters of the lake shot violently into the air. In front of Roisin’s astonished eyes the towering wall of water hung suspended and then peeled itself in two, folding over and leaving a path clear from one beach to the other.

  ‘NOW!’ screamed the Morrighan, kicking her horse into a gallop. Every Tuatha horse surged forward at the same moment and Roisin clung to her horse’s mane as the animal charged downhill toward the path, tipping Roisin forward and unbalancing her. Nero was a quicksilver streak ahead of the army, racing away from the lethal hoofs, throwing a lone shadow on the path still damp with lake water. Roisin’s ears filled with the thunder of hoofs and her eyes teared in the wind, so she rode blind. She clung on until she thought her finger bones would snap and squeezed her eyes shut. She felt a coolness on her face and looked up to see the walls of water towering over her a mile high, fish still lazily swimming in their depths, unconcerned at the chasm that had just appeared in their world. On they galloped, the beach on the far side of the water tunnel shimmering in the summer sun.