The Collector 3: Cauldron Read online

  “Katherine!” He held his hands up and grinned at her with uncertainty plain on his face. “It seems I didn’t hit you hard enough.”

  She dug the point into his chest. “You shouldn’t have hit me at all, you motherfucker!”

  He tilted his head and gave a rueful laugh as he lowered his hands. “Maybe not.”

  With a sudden sweep of his hand, he drew a dagger from the back of his belt and batted the sword aside. He suffered a cut from the blade, but it wasn’t enough to stop him closing on her. They grappled, Fergus’s legs kicking at hers, trying to throw her to the floor. Kate braced herself. She was used to martial arts; a sword was a different area of expertise. She’d only picked it up to make a plain threat. Right now, it was more of a hindrance than an asset. She dropped it, freed an arm, and gripped the nerve ganglion in his wrist, forcing him to drop the dagger. For good measure, she gouged his eyes with her extended fingers. Fergus howled with pain and clapped his hands to his wounded eyes. She slammed her shoulder into his chest and threw him back.

  He hit the edge of the table and rolled away, blinking furiously to clear his vision. “Bitch!” he snarled, reaching for his dagger which lay nearby. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!”

  Kate dropped, took her weight on her bruised hands and swung her legs in an arc, trying to sweep Fergus’ feet from under him. He dodged, snatched up the dagger and lunged. The blade plucked at her jerkin sleeve, and she felt the hot white pain of the slash reach her skin. Jumping back, she kicked out and connected with his thigh. He grimaced in pain and jumped around to the other side of the table.

  “Oh, you’re good!” he said. “It’ll be a shame to kill you now.”

  “Don’t place any large bets!” she snarled and feinted to the right.

  Fergus dodged again, his dagger up, arm out for balance. “I’m a gambler,” he said in a cheerful voice. “The bigger the odds, the better! Why do you think I attached myself to a couple of no-hopers like you and the O’Brien?”

  “Why do you want this thing?” she demanded, nodding at the cauldron.

  “I need it to reinstate my good name with my clan.” He dodged again as she tried to get round the table. She could see the sweat beading on his face as he watched her, eyes darting, ready for any move in his direction. “They drove me out over some imagined insult I made to the chieftain years ago. This little beauty will more than expunge that when I return home with it.”

  “You’ve gotta get there first!” she snapped and feinted again.

  Fergus dodged. His foot struck his harp, and he stumbled. It was all the opening she needed. Snatching up the sword from the floor she ran the point deep into his stomach.

  The bard grunted; his eyes flew wide open, and a gout of thick bright blood spurted from his lips. He gave her a look of amazement mingled with disgust, and stumbled backward, struck the edge of the hatch and fell out of sight. She heard the dull thud as his body hit the steps, a long pause then another thud as he hit the floor far below. Leaning on the sword, she panted, regaining her breath and feeling anything but triumphant.

  * * * * *

  In the privacy of her bothy, Mór set out the bowl, warmed and poured the oil, and concentrated on finding the bard. She knew better than to trust the renegade, blood ties or no. In the scrying bowl, she watched the scene in the tower room unfold; she squatted back on her haunches and sighed. It was a complication she’d barely considered. The woman, Susadi, had proved resourceful and competent. Mór watched with jaundiced eyes as the woman in the image bent over and vomited on the floor. Waving a hand, Mór dispelled the magic and pondered on what to do next.

  * * * * *

  Kate wiped her mouth and swallowed the acrid bile as she tried to figure out what to do. She peered out the window at the scene below. The giants were still slugging it out, neither gaining the upper hand, both bloodied and battered. It made her heart ache to see the two men engaged in a duel to the death, and she turned to regard the cauldron with disgust.

  “It’s all your fault, you bastard!” she snarled at it. She walked over and stared down into the thing. It looked clean and polished, as if it had never been used. “Are you really worth the lives of so many?”

  She reached out to touch the cauldron then dropped her hand to her side. Fergus had managed to overcome the relic’s power by using his enchanted harp, but she doubted if she would be able to touch it. Then she shook her head. “What am I thinking? We’ve got to get you out of here. Maybe I can use my magic and force you to turn those guys back into humans again.”

  As she gauged the size of the cauldron, she wondered how anyone had gotten it up here in the first place. It was way too big to fit through the hatch, and the windows were too tall and narrow. She glared at the thing, and the figures on the cauldron seemed to stare back. “Is this one last trick, one last ditch defense of yours?” she asked of it. “Maybe you’re a lot smaller than we think! I can’t imagine anyone building this place around you, no matter how powerful you are.”

  She concentrated, letting her power build. “Give me true sight,” she asked of it. “Let me see this thing for what it is, and guard me against the effects of its powers.”

  The tingling sensation surged through her skin and head, making her eyes swim, and the cauldron shrank until it was a mere two feet across at the top. She smiled in satisfaction and picked it up. It was light for its size.

  “Am I so pure in heart I can touch you, or is it my magic shielding me?” she said, and shook her head. “Crazy girl, talking to inanimate objects!”

  The cauldron seemed to glow once more, this time taking on a coppery hue as if it were blushing. Kate frowned at it. “Maybe you’re not so inanimate after all? Whatever, I’ve got a fight to stop!”

  She placed the harp inside the cauldron, hefted it and maneuvered it through the hatchway. It went through with space to spare. Kate had difficulty getting it down the stairway, but she reached the bottom in safety. Fergus Mac Nessa’s body laid there, the limbs flung out and bent in places that showed they’d broken in the fall. His face was pale and, apart from the blood staining his lips, looked as if he were merely sleeping. She shuddered as she repressed the memory of their sex-session and walked outside into the pale daylight.

  The giants were on their knees now, facing each other, swinging punch after punch with the dull monotony of machines. A rank odor of sweat and blood filled the air around them. Setting down the cauldron, she ran up to them. “For fuck’s sake stop!” she yelled. “The cauldron is mine! You have no need to fight now, this is senseless!”

  Neither spared her so much as a glance as they carried on battering each other. She knew with a sinking feeling that they’d keep going until one or the other couldn’t lift a fist. It was evens on which would be the one to fall. Collecting her power, she spread her hands and aimed it at the creatures, willing them to stop. For all the effect she had, she might as well have thrown meringues at them.

  She ran back to the cauldron and kicked it. It rang like a bell. “Do something!” she yelled at it. It sat, rocking gently on the hard ground, and she swore and kicked it again. “Oh, God!” she moaned.

  From where she stood, she could see into the tower and the body of Fergus Mac Nessa. A crow was standing on the other side of his corpse, looking at her with a strange intensity. She felt it was the same creature that had brought her round and wondered again at the intelligence behind the bright beady eyes. As she watched, it seized hold of Fergus’ ear and lifted it, so his head rolled to face her, and looked at her again, its head tipped to one side. When she didn’t move, it looked up to the heavens in a typical human gesture of impatience before lowering its head and making slashing motions across Fergus’ throat with its beak.

  “You want me to cut his head off?” she gasped and the crow nodded, winked, and flew off. “What kind of creature are you?” she shouted after it.

  She ran over to the body. “Why do I need to cut your head off?” she asked it. “Why can’t
I use your harp to stop those two idiots?”

  The waxy visage remained unchanged in expression, but the lips opened. Because when I was alive the powers of the harp were mine, and mine alone to conjure, the voice of Fergus said in a reedy whisper. She stepped back and shivered. Why do you fear me, Katherine of the Susadi? You have defeated me. I am but a shade now. My head is your trophy. Do with it what you will.

  The lips closed and the horrible voice stopped. She shuddered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” she snarled. Then something Matt said came back to her. In Celtic folklore, the taking of an enemy’s head in combat confers upon the victor all the best attributes of the defeated man.

  She glared at the corpse. “Does that include magical powers?” It didn’t reply.

  Matt’s sword was thrust through her belt; she drew it. The edge was good, but not good enough. Focusing her magic, she willed the sword to become sharper, until the edge glowed with a blue light.

  Grimacing with distaste, she positioned Mac Nessa’s corpse so the head was tilted back, raised the sword and brought it down as hard as she could. The blade sank deeply into the soft flesh of the neck and blood spurted in a feeble jet, the fluid no longer propelled by a beating heart. The blade stuck and failed to sever the head; Kate gagged at the gory sight.

  “Oh, I can’t do this!” she yelled.

  To her horror the corpse’s lips parted in a sneer. Weakling! Fergus’ spirit said. You let your fine feelings keep you from doing what must be done. You’re weak.

  She gritted her teeth and swallowed the bile in her throat. “I’m not weak,” she snapped, “just too fucking civilized! I’ve got to do this, for Matt and my grandfather!”

  With an effort, she wrenched the sword free. The wound made an unpleasant sucking sound, but she ignored it, noticing the blade had lodged in the bard’s spine. The dead eyes watched, the sneer fixed in place on the lips, as she grabbed a fistful of lank hair and dragged the head further back. She picked a spot between two vertebrae and raised the sword once more. Willing the blade to be sharper yet, she took aim, and swung.

  The magic may have tipped the scale. With the sickening sound of metal on bone, the sword cut clean through the spinal column and the remaining flesh and bit deep into the stone beneath. A swift wind raced through the confined space, tugging her hair and making her blink. Then all was quiet ‑‑ and of a sudden, she knew exactly how to work the harp.

  “You lying toad!” she told the head. “The harp can work on the same person again and again if needed!”

  Was I going to give away all my secrets to perfect strangers? came the reedy voice.

  “Shut up! Now and forever!”

  The voice chuckled then faded. Taking the harp she strode forth from the tower.

  Soft music intruded upon the howling wilderness that filled the giants’ minds. Those scraps of intellect which had once been Matt O’Brien emerged from the corners and gathered to find what had happened. The music played on, and it was having the strangest effect on his body. It was shrinking, becoming normal once more. The dreadful ache in its limbs was almost overwhelming, but so was the relief it felt. That relief was short-lived, for something smashed into his head with frightful force, and all reason and existence itself were snuffed out.

  “Oh shit!” Kate screamed as the naked giant suddenly shrank and turned back to Matt. He had enough time to give her a startled glance before the other creature bellowed with glee and smashed his puny human body to pulp.

  “Matt!” She ran to his broken corpse, the tears flooding from her eyes. The giant stood up and swayed on its feet, the grotesque features bruised and battered. It glared down at her and seemed uncertain what to do next. Kate cradled Matt’s head in her lap and stroked the tangled hair. “I love him!” she screamed to the uncaring world. “Why? Why? Why?”

  She bent her head and sobbed. A huge finger touched her shoulder, and she started and looked up into the horrid features. “You killed him!” she snarled.

  “Yes,” the creature said holding up a hand. Beyond the puffiness and the bruising, a look of deep compassion filled its face. It sank to its knees beside her and gazed down at its fallen opponent. “The magic made me do this.”

  “Why weren’t you changed along with Matt?”

  “I’ve been in this form far too long.” To Kate’s astonishment, a tear trickled down its cheek. He stroked Matt’s hair. “Magic did this. And magic will undo it!”

  “You sound normal!”

  The creature looked down at its body and sighed. “As normal as I can be now. The enchantment which made me act so faded with your music, alas, too late for me to stop my fist from killing your friend.”

  “Can you bring him back?” she asked, reaching out and grasping its arm.

  “I have the knowledge,” he nodded and gave her the ghost of a smile. “You’re my granddaughter, it seems! I’ll do anything for my family.”

  “Then you are Thomas Susadi!” she said.

  “That’s a name I’ve not heard for too long. Yes; yes, I am.” He looked down at his nakedness and covered his genitals with his hands. “Damn, but I’ve not had to bother with clothes for a long time!”

  She went to the ponies and returned with their blankets, which he used to fashion a rudimentary loin-cloth. Once he was decent again, he pointed at the cauldron. “That has the power to restore life to those who fall in battle. Fill it with water then bathe Matt’s body with it. The power of the cauldron will restore him to life, but it comes at a price.”

  “What price?”

  “He will be rendered mute for the rest of his days,” he said and shook his head.

  She looked up at the gray sky and a tear fell down her cheek. “I remember now.” She lowered her head and stroked Matt’s bloodied hair. “He told me so himself. But it’s a small price to pay in return for life!” she said and stood up. “Is there a stream or a well around here?”

  Thomas showed her a nearby spring he used and she filled the vessel with water. “Does it need to be boiled?” she asked. “Matt said the legends state the warriors had to be placed inside the cauldron and boiled!”

  “No, much about the relic became garbled over time. Just take it to Matt and bathe him. The power will work just the same.”

  “Can I change you back to the way you were?” she asked, as it took the heavy cauldron and carried it for her.

  He shook his head. “I’m beyond all hope now.” He lifted the cauldron and gazed at it with an expression of loathing. “I searched for this thing for years, tracing the rumors and legends back through time to this land, this place.” He set it down beside Matt and squatted on his haunches as she knelt and began to wash her fallen lover’s body. “I even had to ... to reach an arrangement with that mad bitch Maeve to get here. Once I found the thing, it changed me into this. I’ve been with it, close to it for far too long.” He held up his hands. “It’s got me down to the bone.”

  “There must be something we can do to help!”

  He patted her back. “No, Kate. Once you take that thing away from this place, my purpose is over, and I will die.”

  “Oh, no!”

  He nodded and smiled. “Oh, yes! To be honest, it’s something I’d welcome now. There’ll be no pain, which is more than I would’ve gotten if I’d been beaten in combat.” He moved his hand in a graceful gesture that sat at odds with his appearance. “I’ll just fade away.”

  She felt the tears roll down her cheeks and pressed her face to his chest, ignoring the rank smell of his body.

  “Bear up now. Did you come here through the barrow?”

  “Yes!” She looked up at him. “Magic opened the path here. It wasn’t something we were expecting.”

  He gave her a tacit wink. “I know. You never told me why you’re here looking for the cauldron, but shall I hazard a guess?” She shrugged. “My old friend Andrew Martin sent you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes!” she said.

  “Ah, I figured as much,” he said and scratched his
head. “That means Maria Byrne obeyed my instructions. She stayed in Gaillimh when I heard the queen might have the cauldron at Roscommon. To tell the truth I think our adventure freaked her out.”

  “I can understand that,” Kate said with feeling. “From the way she behaved around us, I don’t think she’s still quite with it.”

  He coughed and looked shame-faced. “I’m sorry to hear that. Back then I was a driven man. I see now I just used her for my own ends.”

  “Yes.” She had to agree. Grandfather or not, she couldn’t bring herself to condone his actions.

  “I hope she finds peace,” he said.

  “You and me both.” She shook her head. “So, how did you two come to part? It couldn’t have been easy for either of you when you split from the only friend you had in this world.”

  “It wasn’t, but like I said, I was driven. I figured out there’d be a time difference between here and our world, so when Maria decided she didn’t want to play any more, I told her if I didn’t return after a few months she was to return to the barrow and try to get through.” He blushed. “She was attractive; I knew she’d find someone to help her pass through the portal. Once she’d done so, I gave her the date I’d calculated and told her to send to Andrew for help at that time.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “She sold your journal to a bookstore in Galway.”

  “The little devil! I thought she was more reliable than that! So how come Andrew sent you here?”

  “Matt was over in Ireland last year; he found your journal in that store and bought it. Your friend heard of his find and contacted us. As far as I know he didn’t hear anything from Ms. Byrne.”

  He swore under his breath then gave a rueful chuckle. “Serves me right, I guess! Still, Andrew figured it out anyway and sent you here. What goes around comes around.” He fixed her with a direct look. “He’s an okay guy; he plays straight. How much did he offer you to retrieve this thing?”