Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9

by Christy Nicholas

  Several times, she disdained their play and concentrated upon her own magic, drawing from the massive power of the ocean before her. The strength of that power had been much too high for her to control, but as Adhna had taught her to draw a bare tendril from the earth, she practiced with pulling a small rivulet from the ocean. In time, her mastery over element grew as did her confidence in wielding it.

  To amuse the dolphins, she practiced by creating shapes from the water, dancing along the surface. She created fish shapes to leap along the edge of the shore as the dolphins chittered their amusement and delight.

  Clíodhna returned to Rumann’s home when the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer. And when the time for Odhrán’s return came closer.

  She’d been relieved at the delay. It allowed her time to get to know her family more, to settle back into her place in the village. And to determine if Abbot Pátraic still detested the sight of her.

  She still considered him a vile dogmatist, but he acted as if she didn’t exist, other than a polite nod when they made eye contact on in the village. A few times, she thought she detected a glint of that fervent extremism she’d remembered, but the spark faded as she passed. He never spoke a word to her.

  Content with this arrangement, she schooled her own behavior to keep out of his notice. Without a mad husband to care for, or children to raise, she found this change easier to maintain. She had a freedom she’d never experienced. No true responsibilities, no heavy goals or projects. She only had to complete Fingin’s education in honoring the Fae. She’d spoken to a few of the villagers. Most ignored her or shook their heads at her odd notions. One or two listened, and built a relationship with their own Fae. The ones who lived in their farm well, or along the edge of the woods. Most didn’t have the bravery for such disobedience of their church, though.

  Fingin, however, despite being a rather simple lad, acted straightforward in his joy when he first spoke to the Fae. They danced on the water for him and touched his nose with their fingers, making him giggle like a joyful babe. She enjoyed many a lazy afternoon with her grandson, showing him the ways of the Fae, of nature, and of his own abilities. His father had no interest in the lad, spending his attention more on the eldest and his own mug of ale.

  Clíodhna tried to speak to Rumann, but he didn’t make it easy. “I didn’t want to leave you, Rumann. But where I went… it might have been dangerous, especially for an infant. I wanted to make sure you remained safe.”

  He cast her a withering glance, his jaw clenched tight. He took a swig of his ale and slammed it on the wooden table. “I don’t care why you abandoned me. Stop trying to explain it.”

  “At least let me explain—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Since that hand still held the mug, a splash of ale swirled out and spilled on the floor. “I grew up without your help, and I’ll manage my family the same way.”

  “The way you’re managing young Fingin? You barely look at the poor lad. He needs some affection, Rumann.”

  He growled and stood, looming over her with menace. “Look, woman. You’re my mother, so I won’t turn you out, but you aren’t to meddle, understand? You leave my family to me and go about your business.”

  Clíodhna seethed with the urge to answer with sarcasm and rage, wanting to slap the insolent fool into some sense. However, he outweighed her by a lot and stood several heads taller. If she angered him too much, he’d apply the same force on her as he did on his own sons.

  Someday, though, when she left again, she’d give him a piece of her mind. Maybe even sooner.

  Now, however, she waited for Odhrán to meet her. She fiddled with the end of her braid, which she’d arranged to hide the streak of white hair and chuckled at her own silly vanities.

  A shuffle behind her made her turn, but another monk strolled by. She didn’t know his name but had seen him in the village several times. They exchanged cordial nods and he disappeared amongst the ornamental flowers.

  How much would Odhrán have changed in all this time? Would he still be interested in her conversation? She’d asked this question a thousand times since he’d left. When she’d gotten word of his return, her heart beat so fast she needed to sit. She became a giddy girl, ready to walk out with her suitor for the first time. While she loved Adhna with all her heart, and Odhrán had been living his life in the mortal world for a score of winters without her, her heart knew what it wanted. Clíodhna wiped at her face, mopping the sweat away and waited.

  This time, her old friend walked toward her. Odhrán’s bald head shone in the afternoon sun. Her heart warmed as he came near and she stood, holding her hands out for him. He placed his in hers, squeezing tight, but didn’t embrace her.

  Somewhat discomfited by this, she sat back on the bench. He sat beside her and turned to face her. “I am gratified you waited. The Abbot held me up, and I apologize for being late.”

  The giddiness calmed with his formal words. Clíodhna took a deep breath. “I’ve looked forward to speaking with you, Odhrán. It’s been much too long.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “It’s been at least four winters since I saw you in that magical battle, and over fifteen before that when you left us.”

  “Four winters? It seemed but a short time for us in Faerie.”

  His eyes grew wide, twinkling with eager anticipation. “Faerie, yes, you must tell me all about that! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed such a thing. Abbot Pátraic became quite incensed with everyone involved.”

  “Oh? Did he blame them? He shouldn’t have.”

  Odhrán frowned, looking toward the church building. “He did. In fact, those that took up arms to help in the battle, he cursed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What sort of curse?”

  “Something vile about turning into a vicious hound when they lose their temper. I tried to persuade him to remove it, that such a curse would bring evil to himself, but he refused to listen. He did relent enough to make them protectors of others. At least they have a noble purpose now. He calls them the faoladh.” Odhrán cast his eyes to his feet. “He often refuses to listen. I consider it a failing on my part that I couldn’t get him to budge on the matter. He responded by sending me away, his favorite answer to insolence, as he sees it.”

  Clíodhna chuckled at his observation. “Is that why he sends you away so often, then?”

  While shrugging one shoulder, he said, “That must be why. Either that, or he can’t stand my face.” He turned to her and traced his finger along her braid, just at the bit of white peeking through. “Why do you hide this? Such a lovely, distinctive feature. You should display this badge of wisdom with pride.”

  On an impulse, Clíodhna cupped her hands on his cheeks. “I’ve dreamed of your face, Odhrán. Over all that time, I still treasure you.”

  Their eyes locked for just one heart-breaking moment before he pulled back, blinking several times. “I dreamt of you, Clíodhna. And I cherish the time we spent together. But we can only ever be friends now. We should not have had that night and can never have it again.”

  After dropping her hands, she clasped them in her lap, staring at them to keep herself from bursting into tears. This shouldn’t have surprised her. It had been so long since they’d been together. He must have found another love during the long seasons traveling. Besides, what she loved most about him had been their conversations, and she didn’t need his physical love to have those. Once she got her emotions under control, she glanced up again.

  Odhrán stared at his own hands, lost in thought. She placed her hand on his shoulder, making him look up, his eyes begging for understanding. She granted him a sad smile. “We will always be friends. I am content as long as we maintain that friendship. It’s the part of us I cherished the most.”

  His tentative smile deepened into genuine pleasure. “Wonderful. I worried so much about this talk. I even delayed returning out of worry you’d detest me.”

  She clasped
his hand and squeezed. They needed no more words.

  * * *

  The dappled sunlight speckled the rocks as they peered into the swirling water. A strand of Clíodhna’s hair fell into her face, a streak of white which had appeared since her return to the mortal world. She tucked it behind her ear with exasperation. “Fingin, do pay attention. Now, see how this dark stuff edges the water sprite’s fins? Something is in the water, something poisonous.”

  The boy nodded after peering at the sprite’s damaged fin and glanced up at his grandmother. “But what made that happen?”

  While wrinkling her nose, Clíodhna glanced upriver. “Judging from the stink of urine, that tanner’s to blame. He dumps stuff into the water, with no heed to how it poisons the wildlife or Fae. I’ve a mind to speak to him about it.”

  Fingin bowed his head. “I don’t like the tanner. He’s loud. His voice hurts my head.”

  With a chuckle, Clíodhna patted the boy on his shoulder. “He’s loud, true enough. But I can be louder if I put my mind to it. Would you like to come along? Or do you prefer to go home?”

  He stuck out his chin. “I want to come with you. If I go home, Da will give me work to do.”

  They walked along the shore to the tanner’s roundhouse, the huge workshop in the back perched on a low cliff over the river. Even as they watched, someone tossed a bucket of sludge out the window and into the water below. The stink of urine, lime, and salt drifted from the noxious waste, making them both sneeze.

  With Fingin in tow, Clíodhna marched up to the workshop door and peered in. She could make out very little in the dim interior, but something moved along the far wall. She knocked on the door frame to get their attention.

  “What? Who is it?”

  “Clíodhna, from the village. I’d like to speak to you about that poison you just dumped in the river.”

  “Poison? What are you talking about? It’s just dirty water, nothing worse. I’ve been doing it for seasons. All the tanners do. That’s why we set up downriver from the village.”

  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “That is appreciated, but it’s damaging the wildlife and the Fae who live downstream from you. You need to find another method of disposal.”

  The big man emerged from the shadows. Clíodhna backed up a few steps as he exited the door. He stood a good arms-length taller than she, with broad shoulders and muscled arms. His voice, as Fingin had mentioned, was piercing and deep. He scowled down at them both. “The wildlife and the Fae, is it? Oh, isn’t that a precious thing? You’re nothing but a mere woman and a half-grown child. Begone, the both of you.”

  Fingin shrunk back, but Clíodhna stood her ground. She planted her feet and glared up at the big man. “I will not be gone, as you so command. I shall remain until you promise a solution.”

  He curled his lip and flexed his upper arm muscles, an obvious attempt at intimidation. She clenched her jaw as the wind whipped her hair. The sky darkened with storm clouds racing across the sun. Since the day had been mild, the tanner glanced up in surprise. Just as he did so, a peal of thunder echoed across the hills.

  His stance didn’t seem so intimidating now, nor his manner so threatening. He took a step back, glancing around him. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

  After placing a hand over her heart, Clíodhna asked, “Me? How could I be doing anything? I’m a mere woman and this but a half-grown child. Surely, you aren’t frightened of us?”

  Thunder boomed, louder this time, and the first few drops fell on the dry ground.

  “What’s wrong, big man? It’s just a thunderstorm. I thought you preferred loud noises?”

  His eyes fixed on Clíodhna’s face and for a moment, she thought he would lunge at her. She shoved her instinct to flee down and forced herself to smile in the face of danger. After all, she’d faced Bodach and his entire army. She could stare down one mortal tanner.

  Fingin whimpered beside her. When she spared a glance for her grandson, she noticed he looked up in the sky with increasing anxiety.

  With a sigh, she allowed the thunderstorm to die. “Take this as a warning. The Fae are under my protection. Damage them at your own peril.”

  After taking Fingin’s hand, she walked away with slow dignity. Let him stew over that for a while. A mere woman, indeed. A pity she couldn’t reveal her own status as Faerie Queen to this abhorrent fool.

  When they returned to their own home, she noted with relief that Rumann and Mugain had left. The older boys worked in the yard, and she bid Fingin to join them. She needed a break from the lad. While she loved teaching him, patience had never been her greatest virtue, and he didn’t learn quickly. Oh, his heart remained huge and his kindness knew no limits, but to retain knowledge took a great deal of work and practice.

  Clíodhna sat in her alcove, contemplating what she should do that evening. Odhrán had asked that she join him in the garden. She often met him there and talked deep into the night. He should be sleeping, but he stole time for her. She looked forward to it, but he could not meet her until dusk.

  Some days, she grew weary of her work here in the mortal realm, and she ached to return to Faerie, as if the very land called her back. It simmered as a slow-burning need, an itch that called for constant scratching. A low hum only heard within her heart.

  Clíodhna glanced at her shelves and took out the small white fabric package. After unwrapping it, she traced the intricate gold and silver traced animal shapes on the brooch.

  Adhna had once told her she needed to pass the brooch on to someone else. She couldn’t choose Rumann. Donn and Etromma remained far in the north. Rumann’s eldest sons subsisted in dim cruelty. She’d seen it in their bullying of Fingin. Patraic Óg? She shook her head. His name was too repugnant to her. It wasn’t the lad’s fault, but Clíodhna shuddered whenever she heard that name. There was magic in names, after all. How could she gift the Fae brooch to someone who had persecuted her so in his own God’s name?

  Fingin remained her best choice. But he still had so few winters, just eight. Would he be old enough to handle such power? Would he be able to command power like hers, the ability to call up storms at will? No, Adhna had said each magical talent would be different.

  The room grew dim. Clíodhna glanced up and saw someone darkening the doorway. As if the thought of him had conjured the Fae, Adhna stood smiling at her. She rose to greet her love in a warm embrace. “Adhna, how did you know I thought of you?”

  He glanced down at the brooch in her hand. “Do you need to ask? I’m connected with the magic in that brooch. Of course, I came when you held it and performed such intense consideration.”

  Ruefully, she looked at the piece of jewelry. Imbued with Adhna’s own magic, why wouldn’t it would act as a summoning? She wondered how long such connection would last, or if it would fade with time. “I was just thinking I should choose someone to gift it to, as you suggested.”

  He cupped her cheeks in his hand and gave her a gentle kiss to the lips. “You are wise to consider. In fact, the brooch wasn’t the only thing that called me back to you. Faerie needs you to return.”

  Panic flooded her imagination. “Why? What’s Bodach done? Is Cerul in trouble? Gabha? What about Grimnaugh?”

  “Calm down, Clíodhna. Nothing so dire. Yes, Bodach has been stirring up trouble. With the throne empty, he’s been riling up the lesser Fae and influencing the higher court. He’s glommed onto that poor lad, Ammatán, intent on turning him into an agent of madness. Cerul has tried to counteract his efforts, but she’s limited by her power. Despite his defeat, he’s still the strongest of the courtiers, and with you gone, the strongest in Faerie. The longer you’re gone, the more the other Fae believe his lies. We need you back before he gathers too many other powerful courtiers to his side.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “That means I must gift the brooch to Fingin before I leave. I can never come back.”

  Adhna gave her a sad smile. “That is true, my dearest love. I’ll help you with
that transfer, and then I must bring you home.”

  * * *

  Adhna left to wait for them at the standing stones. Clíodhna braided her hair and wound it around her head. She’d had to deal with it in the wind enough times that she knew how to prepare for what would be a weather-heavy event. She sought Fingin, who mucked out the stables.

  “Fingin! Stop that now. I have something for you.”

  The boy ran to her and tossed the pitchfork against the roundhouse, near the door. After recalling her own pain when Adhna had gifted her the brooch, she hoped it wouldn’t hurt the lad too badly. She didn’t dare tell him what they’d be doing but had to trust in the boy’s obedience and sense of adventure. He had a natural curiosity to go with his sympathy for the Fae. That should help.

  She led him up the path, past the looming guardian stones, and into the stone circle. Adhna stood in the woods with his staff, hidden by the summer leaves, but Clíodhna caught his gaze. He nodded once and she took in a deep breath.

  The twelve stones reached for the sky in the growing dusk. Clíodhna drew in the wind as they approached, making the clouds swirl in the overhead darkness. She took Fingin’s hand, sensing the boy’s rising terror, and held tight. She wished she could gift him some confidence, some bravery, but he’d have to learn that on his own. The only thing she could give him tonight would be the legacy of the brooch.

  Thunder boomed close at hand and the temperature dropped. Wind tugged at their clothing and Clíodhna patted her tightly braided hair.

  Inside the circle, she crouched to speak to her grandson. “Stand here, boy. You must stay here, no matter what happens. Do you understand? I have some work to do before the ceremony.”

  “Ceremony?”

  “Shush now! All will be clear in time.”

  While pulling the wind around her, she walked the perimeter of the stones. Adhna had taught her the words in the language of their ancestors, words of power that unlocked the energy of the stones. The sparks of power flowed through her body and out of her fingers as she encircled the stones once, twice, three times. While the mist embraced them, the sparks shone out as bright as the full moon.