Morrigan’s Grace

News of the king’s death were the first words Queen Gwyneth heard after giving birth to the prince. It broke my heart to see the mother’s joy and warmth washed away so quickly by the widow’s shock and tears. 

The months that have passed since have not done much to abate the grief that has gripped the palace and the Queen. The king’s death has been followed by strange and frightening occurrences.

As I write this, there is already talk in the palace of suitors and usurpers who will soon be descending upon the palace like vultures. The other ladies-in-waiting tread around the Queen as though she is made of glass. Please protect and watch over us all. Thank you for my blessings, God. 

—Grace 

In the morning, Grace awoke, prepared herself for the day, and went down to the palace kitchen. She liked the peaceful silence of the early morning as different parts of the palace slowly woke up. She stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Iain’s back was turned as he was preparing the day’s breakfast and lunch. Marcus barked and ran to Grace excitedly. 

Grace knelt down and embraced the gorgeous creature. 

“Hello, you handsome boy.”

“Why thank you. Hello to you too,” Iain responded.

Grace smiled.

“So what do you have to teach me today.”

“The fine art of peeling potatoes, my young apprentice.”

Grace sat down and got to work on her lesson.

“How is the Queen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Sad I imagine,” Grace said with a wry smile

“She was seen walking in the palace garden with Sir William.”

Grace didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Iain smirked seeing her attempt to hide her dislike for the man. 

“It’s good for her if she has someone to lean on isn’t it?

“Yes, someone who won’t capitalize on her grief. His attentions are just a bit too forthcoming given the circumstances don’t you think?”

“Have you cause to believe he is untrustworthy or is his only crime being a man?” Iain smirked.

Grace met his gaze boldly. “Both.”

They were interrupted but a shout of help at the far door leading out to the garden and the forest. 

Iain and Grace looked at each other worriedly and went out.

Two of the guards were carrying the body of a knight.

“It’s Sir Liam,” said one of the guards, laying the corpse on the ground.

The body was covered in dirt as though it had been buried alive. Sir Leon arrived and with inspected the body. He opened the knight’s mouth and dirt fell out. It was in his nostrils as well. 

“Take him away,” said Leon looking toward the forest. 

The whole palace is astir about the dead knight found this morning. They speak of curses and strange spirits in the forests. Those who have been in the forest report feeling watched and sensing an eerie presence. For the time being, everyone in the palace has been told to avoid going into the forest. I can’t stop thinking about the amount of dirt that spilled out of his mouth. Sir Leon accompanied me to inform the Queen. Breathe, Grace. In this moment, we are safe. In this moment, the Queen and the prince are safe. In this moment, Iain is safe.  Thank you for my blessings, God. 

It was a cold, sunny day with a brisk wind that makes one feel alive. Grace took Marcus outside for a walk on the palace grounds. Suddenly, having lost interest in his stick, he abandoned it and ran after something toward the forest.

“No, Marcus!” yelled Grace, running after him.

When she caught up to him, she saw what he had run after. Or rather whom. Grace caught a brief glimpse from the back of a red hooded figure on a chestnut brown horse galloping away. Marcus returned with something in his mouth. Grace took it from his mouth. It was a brown, leather-bound journal tightly shut with a lock of gold. Grace hid it under her cloak and took Marcus back to the palace.

I opened the book Marcus found in the forest chasing after the red hooded figure. I was trying to pry it open with force to no avail. My finger was on the keyhole when something inside pricked it drawing blood. And then the lock opened. It’s a diary like mine. And a spell book unlike mine. Morrigan’s specifically. She is a witch. A real witch. I could be burned at the stake for having this but, whether to my benefit and my detriment I know not, my curiosity is stronger than my fear. She speaks of herself and a daughter who was taken supposedly to safety when her kind were being hunted years ago. I understand her yearning to know the truth, to fight for and find her kin. Before coming to the palace, Lady Winterbourne revealed to me that I was not her blood daughter but that I must not tell anyone this since her name would protect me. Perhaps Morrigan’s daughter is looking for her mother as well.

Grace drifted off to sleep reading Morrigan’s diary. She was woken up by sounds of whispers and was startled to find a green luminous fairy with wings like a butterfly. The fairy moved toward the door and beckoned Grace to follow. Grace put on her cloak and moved to follow her when she pointed to the diary. Grace put the diary with her in a satchel alongside the knife Iain had once given her, and followed the little creature out into the hall, downstairs to the kitchen, and out the backdoor. She led her toward the forest, the spot where she and Marcus had seen the red hooded figure and found the diary. Waiting for her was the chestnut brown horse she had seen. Grace looked back at the palace, thought of her room and Iain. Then she turned toward the fairy ushering her to mount the horse. If the figure was planning on killing her, surely they would have done it already and not sent a horse and a green fairy to be her escort. She had to know who the red hooded figure was, what caused the death of the knight. She took a deep breath. She mounted the horse, hung on tightly to the bridle and, as soon as she did, she took off into the forest. 

The horse moved too fast for Grace to mark the path she took. But it came to a stop on top of a hill with a winding dirt path leading downward. Grace followed the light of the fairy down the path to the bottom and turned left. At the bottom almost built within the hill itself was a door rounded at the top, covered in vines and ivy. Grace opened the door following the green fairy inside. The inside was much bigger. The walls on the right and left sides books going all the way up to the domed roof. There was a red armchair turned toward the wall and a side table with a saucer.

“Hello, Grace,” said a deep, mellifluous voice.

A woman replaced the teacup, got up from the armchair, and turned to Grace. She had blue-green eyes, long black hair, and a lithe, toned figure dressed in a long cobalt blue velvet dress.

“I think you have something of mine.” 

“Morrigan.”

“The one and only.”

Grace handed the diary back to its owner. 

Morrigan smiled. “Have you been practicing?”

“I…how was  I able to unlock the spell book. Am I a witch?” Grace asked excitedly.

“Yes, I am afraid so.”

Grace stood there stunned.

Morrigan smiled. “Come sit. Let’s have some tea.”

They went through the archway on the lefthand side of the room to the kitchen. 

“Where were you born?”

“I don’t know. I was living with a Lady Winterbourne who raised me. After her death, I came to the palace.”

Grace looked at Morrigan with hesitation and fascination.

“Do you know what is happening in the forest? The odd occurrences, the knight that was killed, the eerie presence everyone speaks of. 

Morrigan poured tea into two cups and placed them on the table and sat down. Grace sat down across from her.

“The forest is alive and out for blood. There is a debt of blood that needs to be repaid. Do you know how the king died?”

“No, not really. All they told us was he was out with some of his knights and they were ambushed. Though the identity of the culprits has yet to be determined.”

“Aaron was murdered.”

“You knew the king? 

“I loved him,” she responded grimly.

“Do you know who killed him?”

“I did. Indirectly anyway. ”

“I don’t understand.”

“A few years ago a man came to me looking to make a trade.  He offered me information about the whereabouts of my daughter in exchange for a poison that kills quickly and leaves no trace. I didn’t know who he was or how he came by the information he claimed to possess. I was desperate. But I also didn’t trust the intentions of this man so I charmed the poison be able to track it. I prepared a concoction of Wolf’s bane and he held up his end of the bargain. Unfortunately, by the time I was able to reach the location he had given me, she had been moved again. And then, I learned of the death of the king. He and his knights were killed with arrows poisoned with Wolf’s bane by a treacherous coward who now seeks his crown and his wife.”

“You don’t mean..William? William killed the king?” Grace asked aghast.

“Yes. His treachery and greed will be his own undoing.” 

“How? He has already established a stronghold in the castle and is worming his way into the Queen’s good graces”

“The forest is alive, Grace. Aaron’s forest. What William fails to understand and what you, young witch, must understand is that magic always exacts a price. When Aaron and his knights were killed, their poisoned blood seeped into the forest floor mixed with the earth and created beings known as the Salachar. They are made of blood and dirt. They will not stop until there has been retribution. They cannot be caught or killed in the usual ways men kill one another. They can disintegrate and reintegrate at will. They suffocate their prey engulfing them and burying them alive while they’re still standing. But they must be stopped. I have yet to figure out how to do that. But I suspect you might be helpful in the matter somehow.”

“How?”

“I don’t know that yet either. I am a witch not an oracle. But two witches are better than one.”

It was early morning by the time Morrigan and Grace finished talking. Morrigan advised Grace to take Barra, the horse, back to the palace and meet her again at the entrance into the forest. Morrigan put a necklace around Grace’s neck. 

“If you need help, hold the necklace and call for me.”

Grace took Barra’s reins and led her up the hill pass. She climbed on top of her and off she went. 

As they neared the palace, Grace recognized some of the familiar parts of the forest. Barra had slowed her gait. Grace heard some barking and movement coming toward them.

Marcus came running out from behind a tree followed closely by Iain.

“Grace!”

“Iain!”

Grace dismounted and rushed to embrace him. 

“I was right, Iain. About William. He is the one who killed the king!”

“How do you know?”

“I will explain everything but let’s get back to the palace.”

Grace tried to take Barra with them, but she resisted and turned back home to Morrigan.

“It’s okay. The palace is not far. We can walk the rest of the way,” said Iain.

Grace and Iain walked with Marcus leading the way. Iain offered her some water.

“Thank you.”

“You seem different.”

“I am.”

“Well I like the new Grace as well.”

“Why are you so kind to me?”

Iain smiled warmly. “Do you really need to ask?”

Grace looked back at him silent and awkward.

“Because I love you, Grace.”

He stepped closer, touched her cheek, and kissed her.

Marcus yawned and barked as if to hurry them up.

They began walking again. Suddenly, they both had the feeling of being watched. They turned around and saw a tall, dark, brown figure made of earth approaching them.

“The Salachar. Run!” said Grace.

Iain, Grace, and Marcus ran as fast as they could. Grace touched the necklace Morrigan gave her pleading for help. The Salachar followed closely behind. 

Grace tripped and scraped her arm. The blood from her arm dripped onto the earth. Iain tried to help her up. This was enough time for the Salachar to catch up to them and it grabbed a hold of Iain by the neck suffocating him. 

Grace took the knife from her bag and stabbed the figure from the back. The knife and her scraped hand simply went through the dirt. 

“No!”

The Salachar bowed its head as if in obedience and disintegrated. Morrigan rode in on Barra just in time.

“Morrigan, it obeyed me.”

“The only way you could control the Salachar is if you have a blood bond with them, with the blood that made them,” said Morrigan shocked.

“Well this all makes sense now,” said a voice from behind them all. 

“William.”

“Hello, Morrigan.”

“Where is my daughter?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to offer.”

“Grace, call the Salachar. Trust yourself.” said Morrigan.

Grace breathed and called out. There was a rustling and then the figure integrated before them. Grace pointed to William. The Salachar disintegrated and reintegrated behind William twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to his knees. 

Morrigan stepped forward, slapped him, pulled his hair back. 

“Where is my daughter?”

“I don’t know. Aaron left her with some bitch called Lady Winterbourne,” barked William.

Grace and Morrigan looked at each other with disbelief.

William escaped from the grip of the Salachar, grabbed Grace’s knife, and lunged at her.

“Grace!” yelled Iain, jumping in between. 

The knife went into Iain’s heart.

“No!” screamed Grace running to Iain.

She looked at William with seething rage and hissed, “Salachar scrios.”

The Salachar grabbed William by the throat, took the knife, and sliced his neck open. As his blood spilled into the ground, the Salachar disintegrated. Blood for blood.

Grace sat weeping with Iain in her lap.

“No! Please, please, no.”

Morrigan knelt down and held Grace.

Grace looked at her through her tears. 

“I loved him, Mother.”

Morrigan held her and she held Iain.