A/N: Chap 40 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thank you for reading. And now, for this chapter, I would like to formally apologize in advance to the people of Ireland. According to my stats I have about around 1300 readers there. I'll admit I'm a bit of a Hibernophile. For all it's troubles past and current, from all I can see and read and those i've met, Ireland and it's people are beautiful. I've had the privilege of knowing several and the Irish accent just sounds like music to me. Granted, I can't actually understand anything you say because I'm a little deaf, but it's a beautiful, lyrical sound.
That's probably what prompted me to try using it in this chapter. And yeah, I probably completely messed it up, but I hope that my Irish readers can appreciate the intent and forgive the execution.
Chapter Forty-One: Those Born of Earth
Taylor didn't understand why Narwhal declined her offer. She knew the older woman could fly, but she couldn't fly as fast. Taylor could get them from Holyhead to Dublin in under a minute. Instead, the two puttered along at an agonizingly slow hundred and fifty miles an hour.
With Narwhal, it took twenty minutes.
"Stop whining," Narwhal said from within the forcefield that carried her. "You sound like a twelve-year-old! Are we there yet? Are we there yet?"
"If you let me fly you, we'd be there already!" Taylor said. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to get permission to come here? Weeks, Narwhal! I started and graduated high school in the time it took to get out here. Every time I just started to come, Alexandria begged me to wait because of the political situation!"
The Irish coast was right ahead of them. They'd drifted south in their flight under the heavy barrage of snow, so it didn't look like they were flying toward Dublin proper, but one of the southern coastal suburbs. As they got closer, the snow let up just enough to let Taylor see a cliff. Running down from the top of the cliff was what looked like open fields with a playground. She saw a water treatment plant a little to the north, but mainly they saw neighborhoods that wouldn't have been out of place in New Hampshire or Maine.
They flew closer and closer until they were directly over what looked like a suburban park. Taylor couldn't see any hint of the war that Lord Nelson had warned her about. Until, that is, something hit her so hard in the back her head that her breath was forced from her lungs as she flew down to the ground.
It was hard to describe the feeling of striking the ground at terminal velocity. Fortunately, it was snow and soil rather than concrete, but even so she sank easily a foot into the cold ground before her body came to a total halt. Worse, she fell face-first. The snow and dirt felt cold and damp against her face and the mud tasted foul in her mouth.
Her nose and head ached, but otherwise as far as she could feel she wasn't hurt. Groaning, she picked herself up just in time to see Narwhal hit the ground in a shower of forcefields to slow her descent.
Taylor didn't have time to find where their attacker was, not before something hit her again. It hit her so hard her feet flew up out from under her while her head once more buried itself in the ground. It hit her a hundred times harder than even Lung's most powerful blow. Her head actually rang from the blow. For the longest time, she remained where she was, stunned at the fact that something actually caused her physical pain, if only for a moment.
She heard footsteps approaching. "...the cunt. Aye, just like our man said. Checking now. Now, Da, I'll be careful."
Her accent sounded lyrical, and would have been beautiful if not for the pounding of Taylor's head and the fact the woman seemed intent to cause her harm. Taylor kept her eyes closed and lay perfectly still-it wasn't hard to pretend being stunned, since she was. As her attacker approached, she felt an odd density in the air that she'd not felt since she last opened her parent's chest. It was a feeling that something nearby was more real than reality itself.
It was a feeling of the divine.
"I know you're awake, you feckin' gobshite."
Taylor opened her eyes, but did not move.
The winged figure before her stood easily seven feet tall, draped in shimmering silver armor that formed a dress that hung to her ankles. It was the woman's wings that shocked her, though. They were Valkyrie wings-Taylor could feel Asgardian magic flowing through their feathers, though changed somehow into something slightly different. Half the feathers had been replaced by metal substitutes of the same material as the girl's dress. Even so, like Taylor's own wings, the attacker's moved and twitched like the natural wings of a bird. The figure's mask was black, however, and bore three feminine faces-one smiling, one neutral, and one snarling in rage. The snarling mask was turned right at her.
After the shock of seeing Valkyrie wings, it took a moment to realize the weapon the attacker held was also magical. From the Between, Mimir whispered an urgent warning.
"Little sister, you listen to me now. I know that weapon, as surely as I'd know my own. That is the Lorg Anfaid, the Dagda's own mace. That is the weapon of a king of gods, and it can hurt you."
"I figured that part out, thanks," Taylor muttered.
"I must have hit you too hard," the armored figure said. "You're talking to yourself."
Taylor stared at the angry mask. "Why'd you attack me?"
"Well aren't you a special eejit?" the figure said. She sounded young, though probably older than Taylor. "I aim to end ya. Thought I'd give ye…
Well, with that confirmation, Taylor lost all interest in conversation. She rolled backward out of her indented bed of soil, flapped her own wings, and burst forward fast enough for the wind to whistle in her ears. Her fist struck the armor and sent the other armored, winged cape flying backward with a yelp.
"Ah, fuck," Taylor muttered as she shook her hand. "That made my hand go numb! What's that made of?"
"At a guess?" Mimir said. "I'd say mithril. My kin worked wonders with it."
Taylor hit the armor harder than she hit Lung back in Brockton Bay. The response sent her attacker flying back, but only a few dozen feet. Knowing now from Mimir that the armor had to have some divine origin, she realized quickly fists were not going to be sufficient.
Especially not when the figure rose into the air with a flap of silver-black wings and swung the big, brutish-looking club at her. At the terminus of the swing, a burst of fire shot down as fast as a bullet. Realizing this is what hit her the first time, Taylor dove out of the way while summoning her mother's bow.
She drew and fired in a heartbeat, and had a second arrow flying before the first was even inches away.
Her opponent was fast; she'd started to fly away from the first arrow, but could not avoid the second. The arrow struck one of the suit's wings. The pillar of dragon fire fell, blasting the winged villain out of the air just as fast as Taylor herself was knocked down.
The armored figure cried out-a shockingly normal woman's cry-as the mithril armor rent under the attack. She fell to the ground with a dull thud, only to quickly pick herself up. "You feckin' cow!" she screamed. "You broke me wing!"
Even as she screamed her rage, Morrigan flailed the large mace and sent another blast of fire. It flew even faster, this time. Taylor dove for cover, but just as with her arrows, a second burst of fire followed right on the first and caught her in the leg. She felt a burst of heat that burned for a split second and vaporized the tinker-tech armored grieve of her left leg. The kinetic energy, though, sent her spinning through the air until she landed in a sprawl.
When the cold rage began to burn, she didn't fight it. The armored cape with the divine weapon charged her, with her damaged wing trailing the ground behind her. Taylor set her feet and let the cold fire flicker about her arms.
"Feckin' die, ya bloody cow!" The girl made a clumsy but powerful overhanded swing of the mace.
As much power as the mace wielded; as strong as her armor was, the girl moved like a human in power armor, just like Armsmaster or Gallant in the Wards. And against the speed of a god, she could not compete. Taylor easily stepped around the blow, swung around just like her father taught her, and caught the arm in hers. She strained a moment against the power of the armor itself, but that gave way before Taylor's brute, rage-driven strength.
The girl screamed as her shoulder popped; the mace fell to the ground with a dull thud. Rather than let that finish it, Taylor lifted the armored figure into the air before spinning her and catching her other shoulder. Another pop and another scream left the girl's arms all but useless.
The girl's left knee was probably a bit much, but Taylor's head still hurt from that first blow.
She ripped the three-faced mask off and found herself looking down at possibly the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. Bright, fiery red hair framed a porcelain face peppered with freckles that made her look more beautiful, not less. Her eyes shone with all the brilliance of the emerald isles, for all that they were red rimmed with tears of rage and pain.
Their fight had drawn attention. Taylor watched in alarm as two armored, eight-wheeled vehicles pulled up along-side the park, each sporting a very large gun that was pointed right at her the entire time they drove up. The backs opened to reveal easily a dozen men and women in dark green fatigue uniforms, sporting assault rifles.
By then, Narwhal had managed to pick herself up. "Really?" the older woman muttered. "They send Mowags to a cape fight?"
Taylor had no idea what a Mowag was, but didn't have long to care, either. Because on the heels of the soldiers came a new figure that made her wings flutter. The man who approached stood a head taller than any of the soldiers. His shoulders bulged with muscles, but not like those of a body-builder. Rather, he looked like a classical warrior. He shaved the sides of his head, but left a cap of bright red hair on the top almost like a cap. The exposed skin of his scalp revealed intricate tattoo work in symbols that Taylor recognized.
"Da!" the winged girl cried. "This feckin' crazy cunt broke me wing and me arms!"
The soldiers stumbled when they saw Taylor's own wings spread and flex in response. Some turned and stared at the red-capped man in alarm. Did Taylor just take out a government cape?
The giant of a man lifted his hand and suddenly he held a sword, as if he'd pulled it from the Between. The blade was only a meter long and frankly looked dwarfed in his hand, and yet the air around it shimmered as if with great heat. More, Taylor felt a pull, as if the sword were so dense with power that it pulled those nearby toward it like a Black Hole.
She responded by summoning her mother's bow and drawing its magical string. The soldiers clutched their assault rifles and back away in alarm at the sudden standoff.
In her mind, Mimir spoke again. "Odin's beard, it's been too long," Mimir said. "Just as I recognized the Dagda's mace, so too do I know that sword. I was there when it was forged for my brother. That there is the Great Fury-the Moralltach. That blade is a giant killer, Little Sister. A god slayer. It may be your mother's spells will protect you, but it is a fight you need be careful of."
As Mimir spoke, the newcomer stared at her with confusion. One of the soldiers called out, "Do it, Angus! The Brits sent her to kill Morrigan!"
"Kill her?" Taylor said. "I came here to talk to her! Those are Valkyrie wings! They've been repaired and changed, but they're just like mine and I wanted to know where she got them. I'm not here to kill anyone. I even got an escort. This is Narwhal, the head of Canada's Guild! I'm Telos, from the United States. She attacked us; we didn't come looking for a fight."
The mention of Narwhal prompted the tall, white-haired beauty to wave her hand. "Hello from Canada."
Angus, the giant, lowered his magical blade. "Just now, someone spoke to you. Who was that?"
This time, Taylor fought back her startled frown. "You heard him?"
Narwhal blinked. "Wait, he heard him? I thought you said only...oh, shit."
Narwhal summed it up nicely. She was looking at another god, and if the Morrigan was his daughter, then she was likely a god or demigod. He didn't seem to be as powerful as Taylor was, or her father or even mother, but he was god nonetheless. Slowly, she let her magical bowstring slacken before showing the man the now unstrung bow.
In Vanir, knowing he would understand, she called, "I'm Telos, Daughter of Freya of Asgard and Kratos of Olympus. My companion is Narwhal, mortal daughter of Sedna of the Sea. I seek Brigid. The voice you heard is my father's loyal companion, Mimir."
"Cermait was my given name," Mimir said. "And yes, Brother, it's me. What remains. This child is no enemy to the Danaan. She is an enemy to the Great Destroyer."
"Well!" Angus said as he somehow sent his sword back into the Between. "Why didn't you say you were family!"
"Da!" the Morrigan squawked indignantly. "She feckin' broke me wing! She hurt me shoulders! Feckin' kill her!"
"You shouldn't have attacked her then, ya dumb cunt."
"You feckin' told me to, eidjit!" Her voice squeaked as she screamed.
"I didn't tell ya to attack your cousin!"
"Are ye feckin' daft, ya eidjit man? How the feckin' hell was I supposed to know she was a feckin' cousin?"
"You know, I feel like I'm watching a sitcom," Narwhal said.
Angus turned to the soldiers. "Laddies, looks like it's safe. Head back to barracks.".
The soldiers made their way back through the snow field, leaving the four of them in the snow. Angus let his magical sword glide back into whatever space he'd drawn it from and walked to the girl he called both daughter and cunt.
Ireland was weird, Taylor decided.
"Oh, ya little bird, look what you did? Your aunt will not be happy."
Kneeling with dislocated shoulders as she did next to Angus, Taylor could see the resemblance immediately. Morrigan's eyes glistened with anguish and physical pain. "Ya told me to attack any capes flying in, Da! I did what you told me!"
"Aye, lass, you did." He didn't sound too angry as he turned to look at Taylor. "I never met Kratos the Deicide, though of course I'd heard o' him. But Freya I knew well. She resided in the Hallow Hills for a time before heading west. I can see her in you. This is my daughter Aideen. Mortal, like your friend there, but blessed by my own hand as a warrior of the Isle. She won't do much with a broken wing or bent shoulders."
"She bent the feckin' armor, Da," Aideen said. "How'd she feckin' do that?'
"She's a god, Little Flame. Like me and your aunt. Come, Telos, help me free my girl."
With hostilities resolved, Taylor walked to the other side of where Aideen knelt. She watched as Angus worked some cleverly hidden latches on the side of the girl's armor, and did the same on her side. The armor popped loudly as the back-wings included-came off to reveal a sweat-plastered hoody underneath. In armor, Aideen was seven feet. Out of it? She stood a foot and a half shorter.
"Shite! It's feckin' cold."
Taylor placed her hand on the girl's shoulder and popped it back into place. Her startled scream was interrupted when her father did the same thing opposite. Aideen bent over in the snow, screaming from the pain. For a moment Taylor considered healing her, then…
"Feckin cunts!" she shouted at them.
Taylor dismissed the thought.
"Aye, she'll be fine with a bottle of whiskey," Angus said. He stared intently at Taylor. "Telos, huh? It's a strong name, I'll grant you that. I can't smell you. Can't sense your divinity at all. If Aideen could sense you, she wouldn't have attacked. I made sure to give her that power."
Taylor touched Sunny's charm. "Narwhal's nana, another Inuit goddess, gave this to me. The Endbringers were hunting my father and I."
"Aye, the shite's'd do that," he agreed. His green eyes held a glow-a brighter shade than her own. He stared at her intently. "My brother. Where is he?"
She summoned Mimir from the Between. As payment for her patience, Taylor had Alexandria act as a delivery person for her father's weapons chest. But Mimir said he didn't need a chest to be Between. Angus stared at the reanimated, decapitated head in her hands it for a long moment in confusion. Taylor almost expected anguish or tears. She was not expecting a huge, bellowing laugh.
"Cermait, you stupid cunt, where's your body?" Angus shouted.
"I seem to have misplaced it, Brother," Mimir said. "You did warn me working for the Aesir would be hazardous to me health."
Angus shook his head. "Odin did this to you, then? I told you he was a right bastard, that one!"
"Nay, Brother. Odin did far worse. He trapped me in a tree and tortured me daily for a hundred and nine winters. This lass's father came through on his own quest. He took my head to end my suffering, and her dear mum reanimated me. I've served them since."
Angus shook his head. "There are so few of us left, Brother. Even a piece of you brings joy. Tell me this, though. Brigid has hidden herself away. Even opening her realm brings danger. Is this godling worth it?"
Taylor opened her mouth, but Mimir beat her to it. "Brother, she is the daughter of the Queen of Asgard. Her father is Kratos, the Deicide. The destroyer of Olympus and father to Loki. The last true God of War to walk these lands. And with the spells cast by her mother upon her birth, she carries the powers of both. She's our best hope."
"Is she open to a quick ride, you think?"
Narwhal cleared her throat. "She's fourteen, and really not interested."
It took a moment for Taylor to realize what he'd suggested. She felt her cheeks blaze.
"What?" Angus held both hands up with a patently false look of innocence. "I was talking about me motor!"
"Sure you were, Brother," Mimir said.
Aideen's response, though, was far more threatening. "I'm telling ma."
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
God or not; seven feet tall or not; Angus's car was the size of a shoebox. It rattled like a box of beads. Taylor took one look at it and shook her head. "No thanks, I'll fly."
"You can't fly to Tír na nÓg, ya dumb…"
Taylor turned and glared at the girl. "Finish that sentence. I dare you."
Angus shook his head and ran a hand through his thick top of red curls. "Gingers. What can you do? She's right, though. Ya cannae fly to the Land of Youth. The car is big enough where it counts. Climb in."
With a tired sigh, Taylor looked at Narwhal, who shrugged. "You're the one who spent a year in King Triton's grove."
They climbed in. She should not have been surprised to find the interior as large as a limo, but she was. There was enough room even for her wings, and both Narwhal and Aideen with her broken armor in her arms climbed in before Angus climbed into the driver's seat and drove.
Outside the windows, the snowy landscape blurred. Taylor felt a compellingly familiar and at the same time alien magic surging through the shell around her. In the blink of an eye, they left the land entirely.
"Holy fuck, did we just cross the whole island?" Narwhal asked, wide-eyed.
"It's a magic car, now, innit?" Aideen said with a sarcastic brow raised high.
"You know I can make a forcefield inside your brain, right?" Narwhal asked.
"Please don't," Angus said. "Her Mum would never forgive me. That woman has a set o' pipes on her."
"What you get for wooin' a mortal, Da," Aideen said. "My mum was just a lass, sixteen if'n a day."
Taylor turned and glared at the back of Angus's head, only for her mother's Brisingamen to share a specific memory of her own wedding much younger. "Your Da is thousands of years old," Taylor told the girl. "My own father was born six centuries before Christ. But you, Angus? I read a book on the legends. When did the Tuath Dé fight the Fir Bolg?"
At last he glanced in the mirror. "I met your Daideó, Zeus, when he was at his prime. I've walked the streets of Athens when it was just a collection of huts. Your cousin Athena gave me a right slap once, no doubt."
"Prolly 'cause you cupped her arse or somesuch," Aideen muttered.
"And a fine arse it was, worthy of the gods! Lusty bunch, them old Greeks."
"And back then, a woman of sixteen was of marriageable age," Taylor noted.
"O' course," Angus agreed happily. "None o' this waiting around shite. Mortals back then lived and died quick. Had to get the sprogs out before you up and died, see. And here we are…"
They arrived on an island that had a light dusting of snow, but far more ice. It was a small island, and the entire western half appeared to be nothing but stone. The car passed over the stone as smoothly as if it were a paved road, but did not stop as it drove over the cliff. Ahead, Taylor focused and saw.
A domain.
In the blink of an eye, they were there.
In a parking lot. They climbed out of the spacious compact car into a bitter, wet cold. Ice droplets hit their cheeks as a dark grey ocean raged at the base of a cliff that dropped off a hundred feet below.
"My mother's and my domains couldn't be seen by any device made by mortal hands," Taylor said. "Not even glasses. How did you see through the car window?"
"What car?"
Taylor turned and saw that where his tiny car once stood now stood a massive, regal white stallion. The fur glowed with its inherent magic. The animal snorted at her, as if laughing at a joke, before disappearing in a flash of light.
Angus led them across the parking lot, which glistened with black ice, until they came to a tiny stone hut. The exterior looked ancient-something that had seen ages pass by. The door was made of heavy, dark oak, but stood only five feet high. The giant Angus opened the door and had to bend over to make it in.
Aideen followed. With a glance back at Narwhal, Taylor tucked her wings in tight and entered. In doing so, she found herself surrounded by powerful magic of a kind both alien and familiar-a divine magic of protection and separation almost as powerful as her mother's domain at Newfoundland, but far older.
They stood on an endless plain of bright green grass. A beautiful, soothing yellow sun sat on the western horizon, bathing the domain in gold. In the distance, Taylor saw a glowing crystal cathedral rising up from the plain like a mountain of diamond.
"Wow," Narwhal whispered.
"Welcome to what's left of Tír na nÓg," Angus said. "Once there were a hundred such plains around the seas of the Aran Islands. After the Melisians drove us from our home, we crafted a new one from the waters. But time and war killed so many, until only this one remains."
"How many of us are left, Brother?" Mimir asked.
The giant's shoulders dropped. "When the Destroyer first came, the Morrigan led us to challenge him." His painfully green eyes took on a shimmer as he remembered. "A sight to see, my friends. The Wild Hunt rose for the first time in many a century. My brothers and I rode, Manannán mac Lir rose from the sea and Ogma from his domain. We summoned the hounds and the skies burned as we rode."
Tears ran down his cheeks as he unabashedly wept. Narwhal shifted uncomfortably. Aideen, though, looked away as her own eyes grew red.
"I understand, brother," Mimir said. "I was with Kratos and Freya when the Destroyer arrived. Kratos took up his mighty Leviathan Axe and his Swords of Chaos to do battle himself, but Freya cast an augury and bid him lay down his arms."
"Aye, Brigid did the same for us," Angus admitted. "But the Morrigan spoke in three voices, while Brigid's voice was dulled by the saint. And now all are gone. Only Brigid and I remain."
"And what am I, then?" Aideen demanded.
"A beautiful, lusty hero," Angus declared proudly. "Come, let's see who we'll meet today-the poet, the smith, or the saint."
"The saint's banjaxed," the girl said.
Taylor could speak all languages on earth, but she had no idea what that meant.
They started walking. Like sometimes happened in Taylor's much smaller, younger domain, distance seemed to shift as they moved. As they approached the cathedral, though, the land seemed to pull them much closer, just in time to be rushed by a boar.
The beast was the size of a bus, and its hooves made the ground shake. It rushed right toward Angus with a deep squeal. The Irish god set his feet and caught the man-sized tusks of the great beast, stopping the creature cold.
"Howya, Trwyth," he said casually as he pit his strength against that of the beast.
The pig squealed again, then backed away and did an odd little jump before rubbing its steel-cloth like bristles against him much like a dog might rub against his leg. He reached up and scratched at the monster's sides, causing the giant animal to flop down to give him better access to its vast belly.
While Angus scratched, a glowing white figure of unspeakable beauty and purity drifted out of the cathedral, clad in a shimmering white nun's raiment.
"Feckin' hell, she's a saint today," Aideen muttered.
Before she reached them, though, the image of her shifted before Taylor's eyes to a much more physical woman with long red hair tired in a single braid. She stood tall and stout, with broad hips and a generous bosom barely contained by the leather jerkin and skirt she wore. A thick tool belt bristling with everything from hammers to laser drills hung low off her hips.
She walked right past Angus and Aideen until she stood before Taylor. Taylor, who now stood at six feet even, found herself having to look up at the powerful goddess. Blue eyes the color of electric cobalt glowed as she stared down.
"Let me have a look at you, Lass," the goddess said. Her voice echoed in Taylor's head-not one tone, but three. Powerful hands gripped Taylor's shoulders as she leaned forward and examined the tattoos of her arms.
Abruptly she spun Taylor around, somehow dodging her wings, to stare at the exposed lower portion of Taylor's back. Taylor felt a burning-hot hand on her skin, and then a surge of magic that made her skin tingle.
"That, lass, was mine."
Taylor turned and spun away. "What?"
"Your mum's spell drove your brother insane," the Goddess Brigid said. She did not speak kindly, but rather as if tired and irritated. "She couldna' figure out how to amend it to not do the same to her next child. So, she came to me, and we fixed the problem. Seems to have worked well enough. Truth be told, though, I didn'a think the wings would break through. She blessed you with too many gifts, methinks."
"One of the destroyer's seeds found a way around the protections, sister," Mimir said. "It opened a way."
Those brilliant blue eyes blinked and turned to look at the decapitated head of Mimir. "You're much shorter than you should be."
"Only by a body, sister," Mimir agreed.
Brigid looked across them all. "Come on, then. We don't have much time. The Destroyer's hounds grow restless and their mortal shepherd yearns to unleash them. Kratos of Sparta will not be able to distract them much longer."