The Iron Druid Chronicles 6-Book Bundle
Page 172
“Pride and arrogance led me to overstep my provenance,” she said, addressing me without prompting. “I should have been more modest and attentive to my own responsibilities than to take another’s grievance as my own. I have lost my hounds and my dignity as a result.”
“Fairly spoken,” I said. I proposed the oath to her and asked her to swear it before Zeus, who stepped clearly into her view, boner and all. Artemis winced in disgust when she saw it pressing against the fabric he’d wrapped around his waist, but she swore the oath. I asked Albion to release her completely, and all the earth crumbled away from her body. Hermes descended to put her back together as he had done with Mercury. The Roman messenger had now healed sufficiently to stand, though he wasn’t quite ready to fly yet.
Diana was not nearly so ready to capitulate. She flatly refused, in fact, vowing instead to slay me and feed me to the crows before violating my bones in ways yet to be determined. Artemis implored her to reconsider, but Diana would have none of it. Jupiter even leaned on her a bit, demanding that she give up her hunt in the interests of Olympus. Diana suggested that he fornicate with Faunus. I probably shouldn’t have taunted her and kicked her head back in the Netherlands. And there was no telling what Flidais had said to her while I was blacked out.
Jupiter’s face purpled and he whipped his head around to me. “Do with her as you will, Druid,” he said. “I will fight for her no more, though I still wish to see Bacchus freed.”
I nodded thoughtfully, silently thanking her for making me seem reasonable by comparison, and then said, “Perhaps Diana will think better of her words if given sufficient time to mull them over. Shall we return here, say, once a month, to inquire whether she has changed her mind?”
“That is a noble idea, though I think it far too generous,” Jupiter said. “Once a decade should be sufficient.”
“I would rather be too generous than not in such cases.”
“As you wish.”
I almost laughed. Gods, not now, Oberon. It would be impolitic to show amusement as a cursing Diana was walled up in clay and rock once again and sent back into the earth to marinate in her frustration. I asked Albion to move her elsewhere, far away from this spot but remaining underground, and to keep her out of reach of anyone who might decide to attempt digging her up.
“And so we come to Bacchus,” I said. “I’m afraid that he is beyond conversation at the moment. He is deep in his madness, a rather murderous sort.”
Jupiter frowned. “How do you know? It’s been weeks since he disappeared.”
“I sent him to a land of slow time. It’s been weeks for us but a fraction of a second for him. As far as he knows, I just got finished kicking him in the chest. So when you pull him back here—and it will be you who does it, not me—he will be furious. Can you control him?” Jupiter assured me that he could. “And assuming that goes well—a dangerous assumption, I know—will you both call the rest of the Olympians here to cement our alliance against Loki and Hel?”
Zeus nodded enthusiastically and looked excited, and Jupiter agreed in more reserved tones.
“Just in case—should I be forced to leave—how do I contact you?”
Hermes looked up at my question and rose from the side of Artemis, who was mending quickly. “You can summon winds as a Druid, can you not?”
Thinking of Fragarach, I said, “To a limited extent, yes.”
“Summon a westerly wind, then,” Hermes said. “Invoke the names of Iris and myself, and speak to us as it blows past you. Zephyrus, god of the west wind and husband of Iris, will hear and tell us.”
“Fair enough.” I swiveled my head around to check on Flidais and Perun. “You might want to leave before I do this. He’s about ten gallons short of a keg, if you know what I mean.”
Flidais shook her head. “I wish to witness on behalf of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
“All right,” I said. “Jupiter, I’m going to open a portal right here.” I traced my finger in a vertical circle, describing a hoop through which a circus animal might jump. “Bacchus will have his arms splayed toward you thusly.” I demonstrated by raising my arms forward and a bit out from the sides. “Reach in and pull him back through by his right arm, because his left one is broken. Do not put your leg or any other part of your body through the portal, or you risk being caught in the same slow timestream. I need you to do this as quickly as possible so that I can close the portal behind him, because it drains the earth to keep them open. Okay?”
“It shall be as you say.”
I checked everyone’s position before I began. The last thing I wanted was for someone to push me into the portal. But no one was trying to sneak up on my six.
Oberon, please go put one of your paws on that tree over there. If we have to bail on this thing, I want you to be ready.
Me too.
“Here we go,” I said, and created a binding between this plane and the Time Island where I’d kicked Bacchus. I scooted away to the side and headed for the tree, ready to shift away if necessary. Jupiter reached in and pulled out the personification of an unchained tantrum, green-veined and still roaring in rage.
Chapter 28
The Romans acted surprised when the god of madness would not be reasoned with. Bacchus threw Jupiter at Mercury—or tried to, anyway—because Jupiter was off balance and holding on too tightly to his arm. Jupiter didn’t let go, however, and pulled Bacchus down with him as Mercury scrambled out of the way. I closed the portal while they tumbled in the mist, Bacchus continuing to bellow his primal vocalizations over Jupiter’s loud demands that he calm down, until Jupiter managed to pin him on the ground.
But that was just the beginning, because then Bacchus twisted his head and saw me. His face began to cycle through several colors—pink, green, brown, purple—as he bared his teeth and let go with more decibels than I thought vocal cords could manage. The helicopters had turned away but could still be heard until Bacchus drowned them out.
My amulet thunked against my chest, and I wondered what he’d just tried to cast on me. One by one, the heads of Artemis, Mercury, Hermes, and Zeus all jerked as if someone had punched them in the face, but they didn’t look any different afterward, except perhaps a bit annoyed. Jupiter head-butted the back of Bacchus’s skull, driving Bacchus’s chin into the dirt, and bellowed at him to stop. He didn’t stop, though. He turned his head the other way and saw Flidais and Perun standing there without any magical wards except for fulgurites protecting them from lightning, and he flung at them the same spell of madness he had hurled at the rest of us. For that’s what happened: Flidais and Perun went mad and tried to kill everyone—including each other. Perun called down lightning, striking down both Hermes and Faunus, and Flidais drew knives that she had recovered from the assault on Diana and started laying about her, beginning with Perun. Had she been at 100 percent she might have ended him, but, damaged as she was, she got one knife into him before he batted her away to land nearby. She rose, saw Zeus, and charged him in a manner that wasn’t simply batshit but rather a whole cave full of batshit, eyes crazed and drool leaking out of her mouth. She’d already forgotten that she’d been fighting Perun; she would now attack whatever she saw first.
“I told you Bacchus was a dick!” I shouted. Jupiter made no sign that he had heard because he was still struggling to keep Bacchus contained. The demented eyes found me again and then fell off to my right side.
I wondered for the briefest moment what he was looking at, and then realized with horror what he intended. I spun around to my right, where my hound was waiting only three steps away to shift to Tír na nÓg, his paw on the tree as I’d instructed.
Oh, no. Oberon, stay with me—
My hound flinched and stepped back from the tree, and I couldn’t shift him away without that contact. Somethi
ng changed in his eyes as his lips curled back from his teeth, his ears flattened, and he growled at me.
Oberon? Oberon, answer me. It’s Atticus.
He didn’t reply. I was getting nothing from him. The iron talisman around his neck hadn’t been powerful enough to stop the frenzy of Bacchus; if I wanted him truly protected I’d have to bind his aura to it like I had mine. The muscles bunched in his hind legs and my heart sank.
Oberon, no!
He leapt at my throat. I was able to sidestep, and we collided broadside as he passed. I scrambled for the tree in the few seconds I would have while he landed and turned to attack again.
Damn it, Oberon! I began to mentally shout his favorite words to him in hopes that it would shake him loose from the thrall of Bacchus. Sausage! Poodles! Snacks! Treats! Barbecue!
None of it helped. He bounded after me and I put the tree between us, which would slow him down a little bit but wouldn’t keep me free of his teeth for more than an extra second or two. Zeus must have thrown Flidais our way, because she landed behind me with a shriek and crunch of leaves. When she got to her feet she’d probably come after me, being the nearest thing she could kill, or else she’d attack Oberon and wouldn’t restrain herself. Bacchus had made a bollocks of everything, and Jupiter still hadn’t been able to get him to shut up.
Taking what I considered an acceptable risk, I squatted down next to the tree so that my right side was protected against the trunk, and held up my left forearm crosswise just below my chin. I didn’t have long to wait before Oberon barreled into me, taking my arm into his mouth in the instinctive strike at the throat and laying me out flat. His teeth sank deep, and he tore into it, shaking his head in an attempt to move the arm out of the way. In a moment he’d let go and dive in for the kill. I numbed the pain in my arm to keep my head clear.
I put my right hand on the trunk of the tree and found the tether to Tír na nÓg. Tearing my own forearm in the process, I yanked Oberon’s head toward the trunk so that he’d have contact with it—he certainly had contact with me already. I heard Flidais approaching, so far gone that she was not merely letting loose with a battle cry but actually ululating.
When Oberon’s muzzle hit the tree I shifted us to Tír na nÓg, leaving Flidais and Perun to the dubious mercy of the Olympians. I noticed the quiet first—the Fae plane lacked screaming gods. I resumed talking to Oberon on the theory that his thrall to Bacchus would be severed with the plane shift. When I’d kicked Bacchus into the portal that sent him to the Time Islands, all of his Bacchants came back to themselves after I closed it.
Oberon, stop! It’s Atticus! Oberon, no!
His eyes cleared and he went still.
I smiled in relief. Yeah, it’s me. You can let go now.
Yes, but it’s okay, it’s not your fault. Bacchus drove you mad.
Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll be fine. I’m already healing.
Oberon began to hack and spit as best as he could.
We can shift there. I took him to the river of Time Islands first so that he could rinse out. He kept apologizing to me the whole time, and I did my best to soothe and reassure him. I closed up the skin on my arm quickly and showed him it was all fine, even though it would take longer to rebuild the muscle underneath.
I hoped Flidais and Perun wouldn’t be killed by the Olympians in their fit of madness—and I hoped they wouldn’t kill each other. As long as they survived, however, I would think that had gone very well. Both Zeus and Jupiter now had reason to believe me, Jupiter owed me one, because he’d said he could control Bacchus and then couldn’t, and I could now shift anywhere I wished. It didn’t really matter if Bacchus never swore to leave me alone; without the help of the other Olympians, he’d never catch me.
Of course, I was rather saddened that Herne had to pay such a steep price in all of this. I wondered if there was any way I could possibly make it up to him. Perhaps Manannan Mac Lir could do something for him.
Shifting closer to the center of Tír na nÓg, we found Granuaile in Goibhniu’s shop, resting on a cot. The arrow had been removed, the wound bandaged, and she was staring at the ceiling, concentrating on her healing process.
Without saying hello, I affected a casual manner, as if I’d done nothing more than wait in line at the bank, and said, “Well, I made it out of there.”
Her face lit up when she saw me, which served as a reminder of how very lucky I was.
“Atticus! Good. Now I can stop worrying.”
“Not quite yet. Thanks to Bacchus, Flidais and Perun have gone a bit crazy, and we should probably lie low for a while. We need to go somewhere far away where you can heal properly. Preferably a Pacific island or somewhere in the New World. Someplace without an Old Way to get there. Any suggestions?”
Her eyes rolled back up to the ceiling as she considered, then fixed back on me. “How about Japan?” she said. “I’ve never been there but I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Done.”
We might. You never know.
“Where’s Goibhniu?” I asked, looking around the shop.
“He ducked out shortly after removing the arrow. He hadn’t heard yet about the Morrigan dying and seemed pretty upset when I told him.”
“Oh. That’s understandable.”
Something in my tone caused Granuaile to examine my face with concern. “You need to talk about it, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said solemnly. “I do. We will once we get ourselves settled in Japan.” The practicalities of making that happen suddenly made me laugh. “Hal is going to shit an ostrich when I call him from Tokyo. But first I’m going to dash back to the cabin and get some clothes and things for us, all right? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I planted a kiss on her forehead and another on the top of Oberon’s, then left Goibhniu’s taproom to shift somewhere else entirely. I intended to go to the cabin as I’d said, but I needed to make a detour first.
Chapter 29
Lord Grundlebeard was overdue for a visit. He was my best lead on finding out who had orchestrated my hunting and attempted assassination. But I didn’t know his real name, and if I asked about him in Tír na nÓg he might hear of it before I could get to him. A better gamble, I decided, would be to seek out Midhir. Either he was the man behind it all anyway or he could tell me where to find Grundlebeard.
If Midhir truly was the mastermind, then I didn’t want Oberon and Granuaile along; neither of them had the magical defenses I had, and Midhir truly was the sort of magician who could turn someone into a newt. They’d be safe with Goibhniu.
Instead of shifting to our cabin in Colorado, I shifted to Brí Léith in Ireland, the old síd of Midhir. It’s near the modern wee village of Ardagh in County Longford. Some people call such hills “faery mounds” today, and some may even harbor a genuine superstition about them but don’t understand their true function: Every single síd of the Tuatha Dé Danann is an Old Way to Tír na nÓg. In fact, they are the oldest of the Old Ways.
When the Milesians defeated the Tuatha Dé Danann with their iron, they said—thinking they were clever—“We’ll split the land with you. You can have the bit of Ireland that’s underground.” The Tuatha Dé Danann said, “Okay, fine,” though in much more heroic language. But of course they didn’t live in their barrows forever; they simply used them as the first fixed points for channeling the earth’s magic to create the plane of Tír na nÓg and bind it.
Almost all of the síde were filled in now, and the Tuatha Dé Danann didn’t leave enough artifacts behind to tempt archaeologists to go mucking around in them. But Ireland’s elemental, Fódhla, remembered all the in
terior spaces as they used to be. It would take little effort on her part to restore the interior of any síd. And once a síd recovered its original space, then a Druid looking to use the Old Way hidden inside could do so.
I wanted to do it this way rather than shift internally in Tír na nÓg to Midhir’s land. The internal tether would land me outside his castle or fortress or whatever he called his home, which would doubtless be guarded. The old síd, however, long abandoned and forgotten, would put me somewhere inside his walls. That’s why most of the old mounds were filled in now; the Tuatha Dé Danann didn’t want random citizens appearing by accident in their parlors. I heard it happened a few times to Aenghus Óg in recent decades, whose síd at Newgrange had been closed and overgrown for centuries before archaeologists reopened it in the 1960s. By utter chance, a bloke or five had stepped along the precise path to take them to Tír na nÓg, and then Aenghus had to feed the unfortunate sods to something hungry. Couldn’t have them returning and telling everyone the way to Faerie.
I took a moment to take in the view and enjoy the sun and air. It had been too long since I’d been home. Fódhla—a poetic name for Ireland in the same way Albion was for Britain, named after one of the tutelary goddesses of the isle—welcomed me back and was only too happy to restore Brí Léith to its former shape. The surface changed only slightly, but underneath it was hollow and spacious again, and the entrance appeared on the south side of the hill. I asked Fódhla to oblige me with a small skylight at the top to provide some light in the inner chamber, and she knocked that out in a few seconds. After checking my surroundings to make sure no one was watching me, I cast camouflage on myself and ducked inside.
It took some time to discover the proper path. Every síd was different, and the paths were laid out in such a way that accidental passage was unlikely—but not impossible. As I looked at the ground in the magical spectrum, the path began to show up as a binding once I took the first two steps in the correct order. So there was a significant amount of shuffling to be done, because the path itself wasn’t something the elemental could help me find. I stepped and pranced around for three hours, my back and left forearm healing all the while, before a sidestep on the north side revealed the third step to me, and then the fourth, and so on. I paused to draw Fragarach and boost my speed and strength. I fully expected defenses of some kind on the other side. As I wound my way along the path, the dim ambience from the skylight faded until I was plunged into total darkness and the air cooled precipitously. I had passed through to a damp, dark chamber somewhere in Tír na nÓg, most likely a cellar on Midhir’s grounds. I froze and silently cast night vision through the silver charm on my necklace. It didn’t help me at all. There wasn’t any light to magnify.