The Cailleach

The Cailleach
The old crone’s icy eyes trail over Dian Cecht. She finally meets his gaze, a fire burning in his normally dark irises, and a shrieking cackle escapes her lips. Dian Cecht shudders under her touch and shakes to keep her chill from entering his bones. She laughs again as her talons pierce the skin of his throat. The fire in his eyes slowly dies and a puff of white smoke plumes from his mouth.

“Are you not happy to see me, brother?” The old hag draws her tongue over her upper gnarly teeth, then forms a sneer on her thin cracking lips. 

Dian Cecht struggles to choke out an answer but all that escapes is another puff of icy air. The cloud grows and encircles his head creating a crown of ice shards protruding toward his skull. He rolls his eyes back and concentrates on Quinn sitting in the next room. He whispers in her head. He tells her to stay still, keep quiet.

A harsh shake knocks his eyes forward. The old crone drags his face towards her. The smell of death and ice emanate from her breath. He shivers. She hisses, “Warning her will not save her, my dear brother.” She uses her free hand to trace a finger down the side of his face, breaking the skin in its path.

The blood trickles and pools on his collarbone. For a moment, he forgets he is a god. He feels human and helpless, but only for a moment. Reality seeps back into his brain and he places his hands on the withered hag and pushes her away. A bright light divides them. She screams in agony as the heat seers her skin. A moment later, she arises from a mist of evaporated water unscathed.

“Did you remember you had powers? Too bad they do not compare to mine.” Her voice cracks. She swiftly closes the gap between him. Her hand again descends towards his throat. 

Dian Cecht dodges her bony fingers. He increases his size. The hag's hands only reach his side now. She spits. An ice puddle forms on the ground. “Men, always trying to be bigger than they really are.” With her words, she swings her arm around the room. A storm of snow and sleet fills the small room. Dian Cecht returns to his normal size. “There, that is a much better size for you.” She reaches again for him. 

He backs away. “Enough,” he bellows out. The raging storm subsides. The old hag fights to move but is incapable. She glares at Dian Cecht. Her eyes darken with each struggle to break free of his invisible hold.

“Why are you here, Cailleach?” Dian Cecht approaches her cautiously. “I figured you would be helping your daughter and not your bastard of a grandson.” His eyes inadvertently shift toward the door on the left. His thoughts drifting to Alroy frozen in the chair.

Only an irritated hum escapes the crone's lips. Dian Cecht waves his hand. He releases her mouth so she can speak. “My daughter can fight for herself. She shirked my help a long time ago. I no longer feel the need to aid her in her selfish endeavors.” Her eyes roam to the room holding Alroy prisoner. “The boy on the other hand, I still have hope for him. I will not let you end him over some half breed mutt and that horrific King of the Leprechauns.” Venom seeps from her lips as she mocks Ainmire’s title.

“You are only here to retrieve your grandson then?” Dian Cecht moves closer to Cailleach. His hands swirl around her body. A blanket of fire appears. It wraps around the crone, squeezing her until she cries out. “Is that all you want, old hag?” He bellows.

She chokes and coughs as he releases the blanket’s hold. When she inhales, her words slither through the air laced with poison. “And destroy the abomination of a blood line festering in that room.” Her eyes shift toward the door on the right. Black consumes her irises. Suddenly, a blood curdling scream shatters the air followed by the shrill cry of a tiny infant.

“Enough,” Dian Cecht bellows again. The crying subsides. The Cailleach is stricken silent again. She struggles to growl through her immovable lips. “You will do no such thing.” His words slip viciously from his tongue. Again, the blanket of fire squeezes the old hag. Dian Cecht smiles with a sick satisfaction.

“If you play nice, I will let you speak again.” He releases the blanket. “If not, the pain will continue.”

With a small trickle of blood trailing from her mouth, The Cailleach closes her eyes and tries to bow her head, signalling compliance and defeat.

“Good!” Dian Cecht waves his hand again. He continues with his interrogation. “Why are you so set on destroying Brigid’s bloodline?” A hint of sympathy peppers his voice.

“You always liked her best, didn’t you, brother?” She smirks.

“I have no preference.” He answers, feigning neutrality.

“Liar!” The old crone screams.

“Jealousy is no reason for your actions. We are gods. We are above such behavior.” He looks down on the hag, disgust in his eyes.

“Jealousy is all we gods have. It is our main motivation.” She laughs. “Dagda gave life to these humans. Gave them his sympathies and love. We are here merely to serve them, when they should be serving us.” She grates her teeth and lets out a low growl.

“I fear you are misguided, dear sister.” He shakes his head. “Also, there is no human in the other room. She is of Brigid’s bloodline, therefore she is of the fae.” He looks away from the room and turns his attention back to The Cailleach. “What do you gain from interfering with Brigid’s legacy?”

The hag remains silent. She draws in a long breath, then shifts her eyes towards the door on the left. She hums, desperately trying to evade the questions.

“My patience is wearing thin, dear sister.” Dian Cecht scrunches his forehead. He leers at the wrinkled wretch before him.

“Dear brother, if you only knew.” The Cailleach smirks. Inaudible words swirl from her lips. A dense fog settles over the room. A crash echoes from the door on the left. Soon a beast of a man dominates the doorway. Alroy howls out in pain and release. His fist cracking the door frame as he enters the room.