I desire."
"What do you desire, Crone? What would you have from me?"
"I desire nothing, mortal. I have lived too long to crave things."
"Then why goad me? Why not leave me here to rot?"
"The future is one of infinite possibilities, every action and interaction influencing the play of life. In some you and the dwarf are no doubt great heroes to your people, in others little more than drunken lecherous buffoons. In some, no doubt the very best thing I could do for the Land of the Young would be to leave you here to feed the sands, but in others keeping you here could damn the whole world. I cannot know what will come to pass any more than you, but dare I risk damning creation?"
"You are the aspect of battle and death. How does it hurt you if you deny salvation? Surely it feeds you, no? Gives you more fighting and agony to glut on, to gorge yourself and grow fat."
"I am old, warrior. I have lived a thousand life times. I have come to love the land - because more than it is your land, it is my land. Walk with me, Sláine." The crow woman held out a clawed hand, gesturing for him to follow as she set off, walking towards the moon. "Is it better to have a debt owed or a promise fulfilled?"
"Is this idle speculation, witch?"
"There is a purpose to everything in this life, warrior. Everything, every word, every action, be it from spite or kindness."
"So what is your purpose?"
"Ever the aurochs charging in headlong, take your time, think for yourself, Sláine. Do not expect answers on a platter of silver."
"There's no point in beating around the bush, Crone. You want something from me, that much is obvious, and in turn I need something from you, it seems. You have the upper hand. All the rest is bull turd."
The Crone ruffled her feathers.
"Think of it as mutual back scratching, we have itches we can help each other with. My purpose is simple. I would have you do something for me. A favour, nothing more."
"What?" Sláine said, suspiciously. He knew enough not to trust the Morrigan. The words that came out of her mouth were always bitter, twisting around from promises to lies, offering hope and delivering despair. She was a traitorous bitch. His doubts reflected in his face.
The Crone craned her head, first to the left, then the right. "Do not be in such a hurry to anger, barbarian. I would merely have your word on something."
"On what? Just spit it out."
"A promise. Promise to obey a single command from my mouth without question and I will grant you what you desire. That is my offer, take it or be damned, it matters little to me. How dangerous can a promise be?"
Sláine had no liking for such an anonymous promise. It was ludicrous for the Morrigan to expect him to bind himself unthinkingly to her. "I am not a fool, hag. To the likes of you a promise could be the end of all things as likely as it could be their salvation. What would you have me promise? And speak plainly; I'll have none of your riddles or half-truths."
"Patience, the time will come for you to know. Now is not that time."
"You expect me to pledge myself to an unknown promise - and to keep it? You're a bigger fool than I took you for. Tell me, in those many futures, do I ever actually keep this blind faith pledge?"
"Aye, you do, son of the Sessair. You do indeed."
Sláine grunted his disbelief and shook his head slowly. "I guess I will just have to take your word for that, won't I?" Sláine said, sceptically. "How do I even know if this dream invasion is prophetic? How can I be sure this is the path I must tread? A trick of the Sidhe or a trick of yours, Morrigan? There is nothing that says the hand of fate is playing a role here."
The air stank of mould and rot.
"It is your destiny to make this journey, Sláine Mac Roth. I offer no lies-"
"Only shades of the truth," Sláine finished for her.
"You seek to return to Murias to be reunited with your people. Do you imagine for one moment your cuckolded king will welcome you back with open arms?"
"The
"What do you desire, Crone? What would you have from me?"
"I desire nothing, mortal. I have lived too long to crave things."
"Then why goad me? Why not leave me here to rot?"
"The future is one of infinite possibilities, every action and interaction influencing the play of life. In some you and the dwarf are no doubt great heroes to your people, in others little more than drunken lecherous buffoons. In some, no doubt the very best thing I could do for the Land of the Young would be to leave you here to feed the sands, but in others keeping you here could damn the whole world. I cannot know what will come to pass any more than you, but dare I risk damning creation?"
"You are the aspect of battle and death. How does it hurt you if you deny salvation? Surely it feeds you, no? Gives you more fighting and agony to glut on, to gorge yourself and grow fat."
"I am old, warrior. I have lived a thousand life times. I have come to love the land - because more than it is your land, it is my land. Walk with me, Sláine." The crow woman held out a clawed hand, gesturing for him to follow as she set off, walking towards the moon. "Is it better to have a debt owed or a promise fulfilled?"
"Is this idle speculation, witch?"
"There is a purpose to everything in this life, warrior. Everything, every word, every action, be it from spite or kindness."
"So what is your purpose?"
"Ever the aurochs charging in headlong, take your time, think for yourself, Sláine. Do not expect answers on a platter of silver."
"There's no point in beating around the bush, Crone. You want something from me, that much is obvious, and in turn I need something from you, it seems. You have the upper hand. All the rest is bull turd."
The Crone ruffled her feathers.
"Think of it as mutual back scratching, we have itches we can help each other with. My purpose is simple. I would have you do something for me. A favour, nothing more."
"What?" Sláine said, suspiciously. He knew enough not to trust the Morrigan. The words that came out of her mouth were always bitter, twisting around from promises to lies, offering hope and delivering despair. She was a traitorous bitch. His doubts reflected in his face.
The Crone craned her head, first to the left, then the right. "Do not be in such a hurry to anger, barbarian. I would merely have your word on something."
"On what? Just spit it out."
"A promise. Promise to obey a single command from my mouth without question and I will grant you what you desire. That is my offer, take it or be damned, it matters little to me. How dangerous can a promise be?"
Sláine had no liking for such an anonymous promise. It was ludicrous for the Morrigan to expect him to bind himself unthinkingly to her. "I am not a fool, hag. To the likes of you a promise could be the end of all things as likely as it could be their salvation. What would you have me promise? And speak plainly; I'll have none of your riddles or half-truths."
"Patience, the time will come for you to know. Now is not that time."
"You expect me to pledge myself to an unknown promise - and to keep it? You're a bigger fool than I took you for. Tell me, in those many futures, do I ever actually keep this blind faith pledge?"
"Aye, you do, son of the Sessair. You do indeed."
Sláine grunted his disbelief and shook his head slowly. "I guess I will just have to take your word for that, won't I?" Sláine said, sceptically. "How do I even know if this dream invasion is prophetic? How can I be sure this is the path I must tread? A trick of the Sidhe or a trick of yours, Morrigan? There is nothing that says the hand of fate is playing a role here."
The air stank of mould and rot.
"It is your destiny to make this journey, Sláine Mac Roth. I offer no lies-"
"Only shades of the truth," Sláine finished for her.
"You seek to return to Murias to be reunited with your people. Do you imagine for one moment your cuckolded king will welcome you back with open arms?"
"The
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