Moonlight (5 page)

Aowyn pressed her hands against the table and leaned toward Ciatlllait. “I will never stand by your side. I will never apologize. I will curse you with my dying breath.” Aowyn spun on her heel as her father sank back into his chair, angered and bewildered. As she strode from the room, she glanced over her shoulder. Ciatlllait levelled the cloth momentarily to show that ever increasingly twisted smile before sobbing back into the cloth again.

Aowyn slammed the door to her quarters. Maeb jumped from the chair in the corner and dropped her needlework. Aowyn paced her room, tangling her fingers in her hair. She let out a roar and kicked one of the posts of her bed. Maeb picked up her embroidery and placed it on the chair. She moved to the princess and reached for her hand.

Aowyn felt the wrinkled, worn, pudgy fingers slip between her own and glanced down at their hands. She turned to Maeb and squeezed the nursemaid’s hand. Maeb’s expression softened. She pulled Aowyn to her and hugged her tightly. Aowyn buried her face in Maeb’s shoulder.

Maeb stroked Aowyn’s hair. “It will be alright, dear one.”

Aowyn thought of her brothers at An Cuan Áille, swimming in the light of the full moon. She did not see how everything would be alright, even if her brothers believed in her. She wondered how she could tell Maeb about them without condemning them all, for she feared Ciatlllait had ears lurking in every shadow.

“Maeb? I have something to ask you.”

“Is it about your brothers?”

“Yes.”

Maeb’s face drew. “They’re alive and safe, aren’t they?”

Aowyn confirmed again. “I cannot tell you where they are for their safety.”

Maeb looked down. “I understand.”

“I need help.”

Maeb raised her head. “Anything.”

Aowyn led Maeb to the bed and sat at the edge of it. She peered over her shoulder to the door to make sure no one else listened. She turned her sights back to Maeb. “Remember the stories you used to tell me about creatures and curses? I think Ciatlllait knows them.”

Maeb’s brow furrowed. “The stories?”

Aowyn shook her head. “The curses.”

Maeb’s mouth opened. Aowyn placed her fingers against Maeb’s cracked lips.

“I think she means to place one on Father.”

The color drained from Maeb’s face.

A pit formed in Aowyn’s throat. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “We must let her.”

Maeb fainted on the bed. Aowyn clambered over her and patted her face, trying to bring her to. Maeb groaned. Her eyes opened hazily.

“There is no love in Ciatlllait’s heart. Love is the one thing that can break her. It is her weakness. You always told me in your stories that there’s nothing more powerful than true love.”

Maeb gawked at the canopy of Aowyn’s bed. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Aowyn snapped her fingers over Maeb’s nose, trying to bring the nursemaid’s attention to her. Maeb’s breathing returned to normal. “Love is not enough.”

“Love is all we have,” Aowyn said desperately.

Maeb slowly pushed herself upright and dabbed at her forehead with her apron. “You must find the source of Ciatlllait’s power.”

“How?”

“You must find the one who gave it to her and persuade them to strip her of it.”

Aowyn had not considered that witches like Ciatlllait were not simply born. To be mantled with such power sounded like even more of an abomination than to be born with it. Why would anyone seek out dark magic like that?

“Have you ever heard tale of someone like that, Maeb? Someone who could bestow power.”

Maeb reached for Aowyn’s wrists. Her expression became strained. “Yes, but I dare not speak its…
his
name. Even if I did, I am not sure it is him.”

Aowyn leaned in close. “Whisper it to me.”

“
Sylas Mortas
.”

ITS NAME

Ciatlllait wound her way down a darkened corridor to a secluded room with two braziers glowing with embers. She reached into her dress near her breast and pulled out a small pouch of glittering dust. She threw a pinch at each brazier. They roared to life as she spoke archaic words. She turned to a basin of silver liquid. Placing her hands on either side, she plunged her face into it and uttered the words, “Turn back the time, the hands will work.” She chanted them, the rest of her body swaying. She straightened. The liquid streaked down her face, vanishing before reaching her gown. Her skin tightened and lifted, making her appear younger than a moment ago. She ran her hands down her face and throat, over her chest and across her hips with a sigh. The braziers danced with light, casting silhouetted shadows of impish Fomóraiġ and devilish Sluagh on the walls. She took upon herself the black cloak of embroidered runes. She moved about the shadows in a dance, slow at first then more frantic. From another pouch she cast upon the floor a number of bones and curious rune stones. “I call upon thee, Sylas Mortas!”

The silhouetted demons moved about in a similar dance until a form began to emerge. They shoved and jostled it until a figure materialized in the room. It wore a similar cloak to Ciatlllait’s. Its face was shrouded by the hood. “You call and I answer.”

The demons continued to dance on the wall. Ciatlllait circled the being. “Our plan is working, Sylas. Soon we will be the king and queen of the Summer Isle.”

“Yesssss,” Sylas hissed.

Ciatlllait stopped before him and yanked back his hood. Sallow, spotted, green skin framed a gaunt face adorned by long, pointed ears. A blaze of orange-red hair stretched down the middle of his scalp from widow’s peak to nape. He regarded Ciatlllait with almond-shaped, glossy black, pupil-less eyes.

Ciatlllait extended a finger and tugged it along the line of Sylas’s clammy, angular jaw.

Sylas lacked lips, but the skin above his teeth peeled back with pleasure, revealing razor-edged teeth.

Ciatlllait pressed herself against him.

Sylas slid his webbed hands down the curve of Ciatlllait’s waist. He dug his nails into her hips. Ciatlllait ran her tongue over his skin and nipped at his earlobe.

“What do you desire, my queen?” Sylas uttered.

“I wish for a way to end Aowyn, the last heir to Aodhagáin’s throne.”

Sylas bent his head to Ciatlllait’s neck. He took in her smell with a growl. “How shall we lure her?”

“A spell.”

“I am listening.”

“We will cast it on Aodhagáin. We will let Aowyn see. It should be a spell to control and slowly kill him.” Ciatlllait purred as her form melded to Sylas. “I will send her to you. You will set your trap.” She pulled Sylas closer until his teeth grazed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “We will eliminate the girl and her brothers once and for all.”

Ciatlllait’s hand wandered low on Sylas and teased him before pushing him toward the dancing shadows. She took a few steps back and grasped the pedestals of the braziers. Her cloak slid from her bare shoulders. She licked her lips as the orange light washed over her. “Now, the spell. Tell me its name.”

Bealtaine advanced swiftly much to Aowyn’s dismay, and nothing she did or said could sway Aodhagáin to change his mind. On the last night of Aibreán, the eve of Cétamain, when Bealtaine began, Aowyn followed Ciatlllait in secret. If the witch planned something, perhaps Aowyn could stop it. She carried a dagger in her belt. If it came to blows, Aowyn would be ready.

She crept far behind Ciatlllait, keeping close to nook and door. Ciatlllait carried herself with a confident air that would rival the Greek hero Narcissus. Aowyn watched her go into a secluded room and hid close enough to spy. Two braziers hugged a basin of silver liquid. Aowyn’s breath caught when she heard her father’s voice.

“You wanted to see me, my dear?”

Ciatlllait circled the king with her finger pinned to his shoulder. Aodhagáin turned with an intrigued smile.

“Yes, my love,” Ciatlllait said huskily, “I wanted to do something special before we are wed.”

Aodhagáin’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “And what might that be?” He licked his lips with anticipation.

Ciatlllait cozied up to him coquettishly. “I don’t want to be just your greenwood wife at Bealtaine. I want to be your queen.”

Aodhagáin fumbled for words as Ciatlllait purred against him. “Of course you will be my queen.”

Ciatlllait clutched Aodhagáin’s beard and pulled his head to hers. “Prove it.” She sealed her mouth to his.

Aowyn clutched her dagger, enraged. She wanted to rush in and stop it all from happening.

Aodhagáin broke away from the kiss and reeled. He stumbled to and fro until he collapsed. Ciatlllait loomed over him.

Aowyn could stand it no longer and burst into the room. “A queen
protects
the king!”

Ciatlllait turned calmly, pressing her palms together until her forefingers formed a point.

Aowyn knelt by her father’s side and stared into his face. He gaped at the ceiling vacantly. “Father? Father! It’s me, your Wynnie.”

The stillness of the room, save for the crackling of the flames in the braziers, registered with Aowyn. She turned and glared at Ciatlllait.

“Let me guess,” Ciatlllait said, “you want to know what I’ve done. I’ve done nothing.”

“Lies,” Aowyn seethed.

Ciatlllait shook her head and
tsked
. “He is simply so elated that we are to be wed. Try as you might, my dear, there are some needs you cannot fulfill.” Ciatlllait paused. Her sly smile crept to the corner of her mouth. “That’s what gets you, isn’t it? You know you cannot win this war. You know he has needs only a
woman
can fulfill. And it is
I
who will be queen tomorrow night. I, the usurper. Ooooh,” Ciatlllait winced playfully, “yes.” She sucked in a breath between her teeth. “That’s what gets under your skin.”

Aowyn yelled and charged at Ciatlllait, taking her down in one fell swoop. She pressed the edge of the dagger to Ciatlllait’s neck. “I know your game and I will not give ground.”

Ciatlllait choked as the dagger pressed into her skin.

“We are a family united, you hag,” Aowyn continued, “and we will snuff you out like a candle.”

Ciatlllait shuddered beneath Aowyn.

Aowyn pinned Ciatlllait’s arms to the floor with her knees. “Where is he?”

“I do not know who you speak of,” Ciatlllait whimpered.

“Where is the one who gave you your power?”

“Please,” Ciatlllait implored, “spare me.”

Aowyn dug the dagger into Ciatlllait just enough to draw a drop of blood. “Tell me!”

Ciatlllait gurgled. “In the bogloch to the east.”

Aodhagáin groaned in the background. Aowyn looked behind her then back to Ciatlllait. She grabbed the golden locks near the woman’s forehead and yanked so hard that when she released, Ciatlllait’s head hit the floor. She moved to the doorway. She wanted to help the king, but she knew she must make haste.
I am sorry, Father
.

The bogloch was an awful place. Gnats buzzed around Aowyn. Her skin prickled with warmth and dampness from the heat the peat bogged in. She constantly had to brush back her hair as it grew increasingly frizzy. The water reeked with stagnation. At last she came to a clearing of flat, green earth. Fireflies glowed around her. Reeds and willows swayed. A canopy of mangroves blocked out the light. “I summon thee, Sylas Mortas!”

The water around the landing gurgled. Bubbles grew frothily larger and larger until a green being in ragged brown trousers emerged. He crouched on the shore. Brackish water dripped off of his amphibious skin. A line of orange-red hair, much brighter than Aowyn’s, ran down the middle of his spotted head not unlike moss on the north side of a tree. Aowyn gaped at his long yellow nails as he crept toward her. She stepped back. The creature took on his full height. He towered as tall as Aodhagáin.

“You call and I answer,” he said.

“I have heard tales of you. Stories of your power.”

Sylas rolled his hand. “Get to it, Aowyn, daughter of Aodhagáin.”

Aowyn gasped. “You know my name?”

Sylas bowed politely. “Who does not know your name, Princess?”

Aowyn squared her shoulders. “Right. I seek your aid.”

“Tell me everything.” Sylas blinked his two sets of translucent eyelids.

“A witch has cursed my brothers.”

“A witch? Tell me of this witch.” His voice lilted.

Aowyn’s hands closed into fists. “My mother’s handmaiden, Ciatlllait, has struck against my family using spells and dark magic.”

“Ah, yes,” Sylas said, “I have heard tell of this witch. Stories say she is secretly the ban sídhe, Crwys, possessing that poor, innocent girl.”

“Poor and innocent she is not.” Aowyn ground her teeth. “I would do anything to stop her and set our world right.”

Sylas’s mouth curled, revealing his piranha-esque teeth. “Anything?”