Trapped

Brighid’s camp that count ye on the side of the Morrigan because they can’t count ye on the side of Brighid. They have half the brains of a pickled herring, we all know it, and so ye can imagine how their fancies are runnin’ away with what little sense they have. To their way of thinkin’, eliminating you means eliminating the growing threat of the Morrigan. They figure she’ll never finish that amulet on her own. Will she? «
    I shrugged. » I haven’t shown her the last part of the process. That doesn’t mean she needs to be shown. She knows the theory. She could finish it without me. «
    » Huh. Well, regardless, the Pickled Herring—can we call ’em that?—think they’re going to score major points with Brighid if they can do anything to thwart the Morrigan. They’re probably right, if we’re honest. But o’ course none o’ them would have the spine to act directly against the battle crow. Wave and tide, I don’t think I would have the spine t’do that! So they’ve decided you’re a tad easier to kill. Nothin’ personal, y’see. It’s not your fault that your life is in the way of their personal ambition. «
    » Silly of me to be offended, then. «
    » Right. Now, there is one way I can think of to get the Pickled Herring off yer back for good. «
    » What’s that? «
    » Ye could become Brighid’s consort. «
    » No way! « Granuaile, who’d been silently enjoying the smells of pie and cider up to this point and petting Oberon, clapped her hand over her mouth as Manannan and I turned to her.
    » Sorry, « she said in a tiny voice. » Did I say that out loud? «
    » She’s right, Manannan, « I said. » That’s not a viable option. «
    › What I said earlier about human mating habits. ‹
    » It isn’t? « He looked as if he was going to ask why not but then changed his mind. He shrugged. » Ah, well. We’ll have to do everything the Old Irish way, I suppose. «
    » Aye. And speaking of fighting, I have another matter to discuss. Now that my existence is somewhat known again, would it be possible to exchange Moralltach for Fragarach? «
    Manannan’s mouth formed a tiny black hole of surprise before he cleared his throat to mask it. » Well. That kind of thing takes some thinkin’ over.… «
    I didn’t want that. Someone would talk him out of it. » Moralltach is the sword that killed Thor. Its fame has grown more than Fragarach’s. You’ll score bushels of points with the bloodthirsty lot. «
    » Hmm. It’s good to have them on your side, no doubt, « Manannan said.
    » I can guarantee I’ll make life more interesting with Fragarach. «
    Manannan Mac Lir smirked. » Now, that’s a compelling argument, that is. All right. I’m not lookin’ forward to what Brighid will say when she finds out, but damn if it isn’t me own sword to do with as I please. A plague on these Pickled Herring, anyway. Follow me back. We’ll exchange ’em and be done. Don’t say a word while you’re in Tír na nÓg, lad. Whoever’s listening in on me won’t realize we made the switch for days. Then go get your apprentice bound properly. «
    I beamed at him. » You’re my favorite sea god, you know. «
    » Aw, get your nose out of me arse. Just make life interestin’ as ye promised. «

Chapter 13
    Once I shifted away from Tír na nÓg with Fragarach in my scabbard, I found it difficult not to grin like a geek at a Trekkie convention.
    I had it back. After twelve long years, I had it back . Gifted to me this time by one of the Tuatha Dé Danann, not stolen from them!
    Giddy euphoria seized me and I shivered with it. A squee welled up in my throat because I felt cool again—impossibly, inhumanly cool, like Laurence Fucking Fishburne—but I suppressed it savagely; if I squeed out loud, all the cool would be gone.
    » Why are you shaking? « Granuaile asked. » Are you cold? «
    » Oh. No. Um, excess energy. Excitement to get started again. « To calm myself, I told Granuaile about the odd origins of the dark elves and how we’d have to fight them if it ever came to that. Keep moving, flank attacks, and, damn it, keep your mouth shut.
    » What about your nose or your ears? «
    » I don’t think that would work for them. They become flesh and blood once they solidify; the bones of the skull would slice right through their arm. If they’re willing to do that to kill you, then, yeah, I guess you could worry about it. Down your throat, however, that’s all soft tissue. They’d unhinge the