“Patience, Conall. This will all come clear soon. Now, do be a good lad, and sit down right there, will you? I’ll be ready in just a moment.”
With increasing anxiety, Conall watched while Adhna set up his small offering in the center of the circle. The three thin stones stood close together with barely enough room for one person to stand, much less two. Grateful he must stay on the edge, Conall clenched his fists and prayed Ammatán wouldn’t be the one to answer this call for help. Even if he no longer burned with insane rage, seeing his erstwhile lover might drive Conall himself over the edge, with no return. He hoped Ammatán had found some solace and peace.
“Now just a few more moments, Conall.” Adhna walked around the circle three times, chanting in an ancient language. Conall understood only a few words. He heard ‘pain’ and ‘help’, but the rest became a fluid tumult of syllables.
A low hum tickled the edge of his mind, and Conall gritted his teeth in anticipation. The music swept across him, making his skin pebble grow icy. He’d felt this power before, and realized before the white light appeared who had answered Adhna’s call.
When the furious mind scream ripped through his skull, Conall flung himself to the ground and covered his head and ears, trying to keep out the pain and madness. The Faerie Queen, resplendent in a shimmering robe of translucent nothing, stepped from an invisible dais to greet Adhna.
“Why do you call me, old one? For what emergency do you presume to ask my aid? Have you not yet learned your lesson? Or must I increase your sentence?”
Adhna bowed low and stayed there, his back bent almost double. “My Queen, I do beg your pardon for this request. However, you possess a particular talent with the insanity that plagues humans, and I believe I have seen glimpses of one of your own agents in this area. Did you perchance send Bodach to haunt someone in my túath? Such an action seems against our agreement, but I tasted his scent several times in recent seasons.”
When Adhna mentioned Bodach, Conall risked a glance up. The Faerie Queen looked pensive, considering Adhna’s question. “Yes, he is one of mine, but no, I did not send him on any missions in this…this place.” Her delicate nose crinkled in disgust. “I will never understand how you live in this squalor.”
With no inflection, Adhna replied, “I do so at your command, my Queen.”
“Hmm. Just so. If Bodach has taken it into his head to interfere with your time here, I shall deal with him.” She raised her hands to clap, but Adhna forestalled her.
“Please! Before you do so, may I ask a boon? His actions caused the mother of a dear friend to lose her sanity. I would ask for healing.”
“A dear friend? Is it that creature cowering outside the stones? A human? What have you come to, Adhna, indebting yourself for such creatures?”
Conall gulped and buried his face again, hoping to keep his identity from the Queen. However, she approached him, and her gaze forced him to stand. He tried to fight against the compulsion, but she remained strong, even in the human world.
“I recognize this human. He did a service for me once.”
Relief swept through Conall’s body as he relaxed slightly.
She put one shining finger beneath his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. They burned into his soul, making him scream in silent pain. Her control remained so strong, he couldn’t even move his mouth. “However, since then, he has deprived me of one of my trusted courtiers. This act I cannot condone nor forgive!”
Adhna leapt from the circle and inserted himself between Conall and the Queen. Conall fell onto the ground, still unable to move. He rolled slightly to the side, his shoulder burning with the sharp pain of impact.
“My Queen! Please, he is but a puny mortal. Certainly, such a base creature is not worth your direct punishment. Allow your courtier to do the honors when he is able, I beg you!”
The distraction caused her to turn aside from Conall and regard Adhna directly. “I do not take advice from lesser Fae, Adhna! Have a care I don’t increase your own sentence for this impudence.”
Conall tried to move his toe, and almost cheered when it wiggled. His fingers finally obeyed him. With slow movements, he gained control over his limbs and quietly crawled away, inch by inch. Adhna continued to placate the Queen while Conall made the relative safety of the tree line. He carefully got to his feet and crept further, hoping to escape the sphere of the Queen’s immediate influence.
He had no doubt now of Adhna’s Fae heritage. Obviously, the old man had dealt with the Queen before this night. He might even be working out a punishment by living as a human might. As much as Conall carried the guilt of leaving Adhna to her tender mercies, the old man should be able to deal with her anger much more easily if Conall didn’t remain nearby to guard.
He would get no help healing his mother from the Faerie Queen. The disastrous break with Ammatán had ruined everything in his life, from his own first love to his mother’s life and health.
He stumbled through the dark forest, always heading downhill. If he found the river, he would find his way back to the house. Surely his mother would be awake again, soon if not already, and Lainn would need his help. He also needed to deal with Sétna’s body. Part of him wanted to dump the awful man unceremoniously in the scummy pond next to the quarry, but another, more humane part, needed to honor the other human with decency and dignity.
Shadows leapt for him, but he kept pushing his way down the hill. Some wore Sétna’s face, and others wore Ammatán’s. Sometimes the Faerie Queen tried to grasp his clothing, pulling him into an abyss of despair. Each time, he pictured his mother’s worn face, aged and helpless, with Lainn holding her hand against her heart.
He ignored the crashing sound behind him as he found the river, dragged himself to his feet using a tree, and stumbled upstream to his mother’s roundhouse. While part of him ached to go help Adhna, the larger part of him, quivering in terror, screamed against such pointless heroics. Adhna would be far better able to deal with the Faerie Queen’s temper and power than him.
Through the dark woods, he trudged, step by step. The further he got from Adhna and the Faerie Queen, the deeper he drew breath. An eternity later, he found the familiar quarry. Male voices sounded from within his old home.
A crash, similar to the one at the stone circle, rang out across the dim clearing. With no regard now for his own safety, he rushed into the roundhouse, flinging the door open.
He had a difficult time making out the shapes in the dim glow of the peat fire. He glanced at the spot Sétna had fallen, but he couldn’t distinguish the shadowy lumps in the roundhouse.
Four figures stood in the red light. Two struggled near where his stepfather had fallen, and two more near his mother’s alcove. He focused on the two struggling, and recognized Lainn’s braids swinging as she tried to escape from Tomas’s grip. The thunderous look on his face and a growing dark spot on his cheek spoke of her resistance.
Another man, his blond hair shining in the low firelight, stood behind his mother, a spear shaft pulled up against her neck. She lay limp, her eyes closed, and Conall prayed she still lived.
“Let them both g-g-go.”
Tomas’s laugh rang harshly in his ears. “Let them g-g-g-g-go? What are you going to do, stutter us to death? I don’t know how Lainn stayed so fresh and young for so long, but I’ve a mind to find out. She’s far more tasty-looking than Aoife’s become. You remember Aoife, don’t you, C-C-C-Conall? She still calls your name in her dreams. Perhaps we should trade.” Lainn scratched at his eyes, but he pulled his face back out of her reach. “None of that, hellcat. I’ll teach you manners, I swear it."
The blond let out an exasperated groan. “Leave some for me, Tomas. You promised!”
“Take the old woman, if you want. I’m having this one first.”
“I don’t want anything about this mad crone. She stinks. Teaching that one a lesson is the whole reason I went along with your mad plan!”
Another crash yanked Conall’s attention awa
y from his mother. Lainn had kicked over something, and Tomas growled, pulling his fist back to slam her in the face. She shoved at him, and he stumbled back with a cry and a thump. He got up quickly, rage apparent in the pinched lines of his face.
After pulling his will through the magical brooch, Conall felt the power surge through his feet and into his hands. He shoved with his hands, and even though he stood across the room from Tomas, the bigger man fell backward over Sétna’s still-slumped form. Lainn shouted in triumph and kicked savagely between his legs several times.
“Lainn! Stop that, and run!”
She glanced down at Tomas’s form as he shouted in pain, struggling to shield his privates. “But—“
“For once in your life, don’t argue! Run to safety!”
With a parting savage kick to Tomas’s knee, she fled out the door, her red braids flying behind her.
Now Conall had to face the two bullies, and extract his mother from their power. He set his mouth into a grim line and shoved Tomas back down just as he’d crawled to his knees. “You have t-t-two choices. Leave now, and you’ll hear no more from me, provided no harm has come to either woman. Or you can stay and fight.”
He glanced at Tomas, who moaned, doubled over himself. The other man’s glance darted to his fellow, uncertain of the balance of power.
In light of their hesitation, Conall decided they needed another demonstration. He no longer cared if someone witnessed his magic. He just needed to save his mother. He shoved at the blond man, causing the spear to fly up out of his hand and into the shadows with a clatter. The man fell back, but so did Conall’s mother.
Tomas cried out, “Ernán! Don’t get up! He’ll just get you again.”
Conall squinted his eyes at the blond, trying to reconcile his older features with the young acolyte who had witnessed his sister’s final trial, a lifetime ago. He might be the same man, but Conall couldn’t be certain.
Ernán ignored Tomas’s advice and struggled back to his feet. “Why did you let the girl go? She’s the whole reason we came here, you idiot!”
“The whole reason you came here, you mean. I have a score to settle with the boy.”
Conall’s eyes narrowed at the older man. Instead of using his magic as a shoving force, he applied a steady pressure over Tomas’s chest, holding him down, enjoying the sight of him squirming, flailing his arms like a turtle trying to flip itself. “A score to settle? With me? You d-don’t even know me. Maybe you remember my cousin, but I’m not him.”
Tomas spat to the side, contempt clear in his eyes. “You’re Conall, no doubt. Stone-boy! Don’t think I don’t remember you! You and that st-st-st-stupid st-t-t-tutter!”
While he cursed this obvious identification, Conall maintained his false confidence. “Brave words from a man pinned to the ground.”
Warned by the shift in Tomas’s gaze, Conall ducked, feeling the breeze of Ernán’s swing over his head. He shoved with his brooch’s power into the blond man’s gut, eliciting a grunt of surprise. He grabbed a few turnips from the shelf, hefting them to gauge their usefulness. Both felt heavy enough to do some damage if flung well at someone’s head. He juggled the two a few times to demonstrate his ability. “Both of you, heed me. Leave this place and do not trouble any of us again. Do you understand?”
Something in his tone penetrated Tomas’s bravado, for the older man’s eyes widened as he watched the turnips flip in Conall’s hands. Conall finally allowed the pressure to ease and both men scrambled to their feet. Ernán grabbed his spear with one last look back, and they both ran from the roundhouse. He hoped he’d given Lainn enough time to get clear and find a place of safety.
He ran to his mother’s side, thankful against all hope to find her heart still beat strongly, and her breath came evenly. She only slept, thank all the gods.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she focused on his face, confusion shining through. “Fíngin? Is that you? It’s been so long. Did you go with her again? You said you’d never leave me again. Did you bring yet another child of hers?”
Her words made no sense to him, except for the fact she mistook him for his father. “Sh, Mother. It’s Conall. You’re fine. The evil men ran away. I’m here to help you.”
Remembering Sétna, he glanced into the corner where his stepfather had fallen. The shadows revealed no form, no clue if his stepfather remained there. Conall didn’t want to know if he’d really killed Sétna. However, he needed to make sure Lainn had escaped.
Would she escape to Adhna’s cottage? No, probably Gemmán’s. Conall hoped Gemmán still lived there. Would he be able to find it in the dark?
“Mother? Have you eaten? Can I get you water?”
“No, Fíngin. But I ache for you, it has been so long. Come lie with me.” She reached out for him, trying to drag him to the cot with her. Disgusted, Conall pulled back, shaking his head. “I’m not Father, I’m Conall! Mother, Father is long…gone.”
She pouted, curling herself under the blanket, and turned her back to him. “Fine. Go back to your faerie woman, then. I’ll have none of you.”
Conall closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He begged her again to take some food, but she refused to speak to him. He thought about returning for Adhna, to see if he’d found something to help her, or if he’d even escaped the wrath of the Queen. Guilt at abandoning his old friend stabbed him, but he had too much to do to keep his own family safe right now. He must find Lainn to make certain she escaped.
He took a deep breath and walked outside. The bright moonlight shone upon the clearing, gleaming from the quarry face. He saw no trace of either Ernán or Tomas, so he walked the old familiar path through the woods to the druid grove.
Chapter 19
The trees had changed in twenty years. Bushes cleared into new glades, ancient oaks had fallen, and insects had eaten the rotten wood. The path shifted a few times into unfamiliar bends, and at one point, the river had changed course to cut away at the land. Dawn broke as he walked, filling the forest with the song of summer birds. The wash of bright colors flooded his vision, disorienting him so much he imagined he was back in Faerie. With growing trepidation, Conall found the glade where he’d taken his sister so many mornings, a lifetime ago.
No one appeared at the entrance to the oak grove, but shouts rang out in the distance, down the tunnel of trees that had frightened him so long ago. Conall ran headlong through the shadowy space, toward Gemmán’s cottage.
The crunching of his feet on pine needles and fallen bracken masked the voices, but when he burst into the glade, a tense tableau lay before him. Two men stood near the humble cottage. One he recognized as an older version of Gemmán, but the other, younger man, was a stranger. Tomas and Ernán stood on the other end of the clearing. The blond man held his spear poised at Lainn, who inched her way backward to the cottage.
Turning to the bullies, Conall shouted, “I told you to leave her alone!”
Tomas sneered. “I don’t know what sort of trick you pulled at the quarry, Stone-b-b-b-boy, but we don’t take orders from the likes of you!”
Just as Conall drew upon his power to shove Tomas back, Ernán let loose his spear, Lainn screamed and ran, trying to escape the path of the weapon. Conall realized he should have saved his power to shield her, but he acted too slowly. It took a moment to draw more power, a moment he didn’t have. Gemmán and his companion rushed forward to keep Lainn from falling to the ground, but the spear had pierced her side. The deep red stained Conall’s heart as anger clouded his vision.
Now the power surged forward again, and he pulled as much as he could take from the brooch, channeling it through the earth and his arms. He shot it forward into the two bullies, but Gemmán stepped in the way as his companion cradled Lainn.
The older druid held his hand up, blocking Conall’s magic. “Stop! Conall, this is not the way. You must not harm them with your magic.”
As the older man held up his staff to the sky, the carved and painted swirling designs glowing in
the slanted sunlight, Conall had no thought to listening to Gemmán. He wanted to punish Ernán and Tomas for harming his sister. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his power past the druid.
Gemmán sang.
With disbelief, Conall stared at the druid. Now wasn’t the time for song. This was the time for fighting back, for taking back what had been stolen. Now was the time for standing up for themselves, and refusing to be bullied into submission.
Still, Gemmán sang. The glowing lines on his staff danced, making the colors swirl in the sunbeams like an eddying rainbow. His voice caressed the trees and the bees flying into spirals around each human. The sweet perfume of wildflowers rose and surrounded Conall with comfort and memory. The stranger picked up the tune, singing in descant against Gemmán’s melody, entwining and complementing the older man’s voice.
Conall tried to move and failed. Both Ernán and Tomas stiffened and then collapsed, closing their eyes. A glow rose around each of them, made up from the dancing lights from Gemmán’s staff.
Lainn glowed as her eyes had closed, her red blood seeping into the green summer grass, just as his vision faded into gray. Before he lost consciousness, he realized he hadn’t protected his sister. Not in this world or the Faerie realm. He’d failed in everything his father had entrusted to him.
Part IV
Chapter 20
Conall’s arm throbbed.
To be fair, his entire body ached. He tried to curl his hand and sparks of pain shot up his arm. He thought at first he’d lost his sight because he saw nothing when he opened his eyes. However, the dim glow of the moon came out from behind a cloud, and the light emerged in a small window.
A window to where? Conall had no memory of a building or how he came to be sleeping in one.
He tried to move his arm, but it wouldn’t shift. He wiggled his fingers and toes, but his limbs remained restrained by something. Not like when the Queen’s magic held him; that force had kept even his muscles from clenching. This felt more like ropes or belts holding his arms and legs to the cot. He could make out the shapes of several other slumbering figures in the room, but no other details.
Age of Saints: Druid's Brooch Series: #7 Page 22
