No Dominion The Walker Papers - By CE Murphy Page 0,38
I’d seen Jo fight the Morrígan She was faster and stronger than any human could be, and had a whole lotta years of practice under her belt. No way could I expect to break through her guard, and no way could somebody not have her back.
Except that was thinking like a good guy. That was thinking like someone with people to live for, instead of just a cause. That was thinking like somebody who didn’t want the world to end, insteada like somebody doing her damnedest to end it. Her army was there to kill Brigid’s, not to watch out for each other. Her ravens spun away across the sky, diving at some kinda choice pickings, and I seized the moment.
Maybe her black-feathered horse heard me coming. Maybe she finally saw Cernunnos and decided he was the best target on the field. Maybe a tree giant bashed into Imelda and knocked us one step the wrong way. I dunno. But insteada Jo’s rapier sliding through the Morrígan’s exposed back, she was half a foot outta line with me when I struck. I scraped a chunk of leather armor an’ rib flesh off her body, but it wasn’t a killing blow.
An’ that’s when things did go to hell.
The Morrígan forgot about Cernunnos and turned on me, screaming like a banshee the whole while. She was bleeding pretty good, her whole left side a torn-up mess, but there was madness in her eyes and she moved like she didn’t feel the pain. Her sword hammered against the rapier. Imelda’s quick feet kept me from getting dead, but there were a whole lotta bad guys pressed all around and nowhere friendly to go. I ducked a sword swing and lunged with the rapier again, scoring a tiny red line that she gave back in spades. My shirt was a cut-up mess, an’ only the chain mail armor was keeping me alive. Imelda backed up another couple of steps. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if I was gonna make it outta there in one piece.
When I looked back, the Morrígan was hanging off Cernunnos’s sword like a side of beef. He’d run her clean through, just what I’d been tryin’ ta do, except no way could I have lifted her toward the sky an’ howled triumph, too. I was a tough old coot, but nothing like that. The Morrígan wasn’t dead yet, still kicking and clawing at the sky as Cernunnos shook his raised arms and twisted the sword inside her.
The whole fight came to a stop under the sound of Cernunnos’s howling. It went out in a ripple around us, stillness washing over everybody. I kicked Imelda and she bounced around the Morrígan’s raven-black horse, getting us nice and close to the one guy everybody was about to try an’ kill. The other riders of the Hunt moved in too, ‘til we’d closed ranks around Cernunnos like some kinda honor guard.
Brigid’s army started cheering. Low at first, like they couldn’t hardly believe what they were seeing, and then louder and louder until they were lifting the clouds right outta the sky. Back in the day, when I’d played ball, a time or two I’d made a great interception or tackle that brought the crowd to its feet. I’d thought I’d known was it was like to be worshiped, feeling that energy comin’ off the fans. It was nothing, nothing at all, to the uplifting power of a triumphant army.
But the Morrígan’s army stayed quiet, an’ that was worse. Defeat could cry out as loud, maybe louder, than victory. Defeat was being wounded, broken in spirit, an’ it had a voice to it that winning couldn’t match. The Morrígan’s army didn’t have a voice at all, just a silence that rolled over the noise until everybody was quiet again after all. Focused silence, all of it concentrating on the Morrígan, dangling but not dead on Cernunnos’s sword. She was still reaching for the sky, an’ her whole army was looking where she was pointing.
Way too slowly, way too late, I looked too.
The blue was boiling, ruptures and bubbles letting starlight break through even in the middle’a the day. Clouds were coming together, darkening the sun, and a path of night fell outta the stars. Creatures like I’d never seen came tumbling down the path, falling like angels without wings. They cut the sky apart with screams, screams like all hope was lost an’ all that was left to them was vengeance. I only