Age of Secrets: Druid's Brooch Series: #8

by Christy Nicholas

  His hands curled into tight fists as he said, in a tight voice, “Adhna, I like and respect you, but let me tell you now. If Bodach, for whatever reason, harms Bran, I will do my best to make him pay for that hurt.”

  Adhna gave him a stern smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Young man, if it comes to that eventuality, I vow you shall have my enthusiastic and wholehearted support.”

  * * *

  From thence became an odd mixture of domestic normality at Adhna’s roundhouse, and expectant anticipation for Tomnat’s conception. Fingin helped Adhna around his small home, learned more dances, and listened to stories about the Fae court. He missed Bran sorely, but Grimnaugh visited every day with news of his hound’s health and a few pithy comments about how the dog did his best to make his host’s life less convenient.

  Other Fae came by for a visit, including Airiu. Fingin suspected she only came with other Fae to avoid any hint he might violate his contract with Tomnat, but he didn’t care. The time he spent with her became the highlight of his life. They did nothing untoward, but still had time to chat about their lives and the things they loved. She taught him songs of the Fae, and he taught her stories from his own world.

  Airiu also taught him how to weave. Certainly, he’d woven and plaited things all his life. But Airiu had the ability to create lovely, lacy patterned mats and baskets from a variety of unusual materials. With patient hands, she showed him how to create such beauty for himself. He’d never have her level of talent, but she imparted to him some of the basic patterns and techniques.

  Each day, Bodach also visited. Sometimes, if he saw Fingin sitting with Airiu, he strode up with a deriding smirk and rude comments. “One Fae woman isn’t enough for you, human boy? You must come and steal all our women?”

  Fingin tried not to rise to the Fae lord’s bait. He’d bite his tongue and clench his jaw. However, when he switched his attack to Airiu, all restraint flew out the door.

  Bodach deepened his smile and traced his finger along Airiu’s jaw. “Such a lovely young thing. I’d like to bed you myself. I wonder what sort of noises you would make with a real lover?”

  “Leave her alone!”

  “Oh, so the young pup has some baby teeth! Be cautious, youngling. Your hound is still in my care, did you forget? You must behave yourself, or the hound might suffer. I still find it odd the Queen let you go with such a light contract. Do you have influence over her? Share your secrets, young human.”

  Airiu put a gentle hand on his upper arm. “Be still, Fingin. He only does this to rouse you, can’t you see? He cannot harm Bran unless you give him a reason to. And teasing me is nothing. You forget I’m three times your mortal age. This is not the first time I’ve dealt with an unpleasant suitor.”

  Bodach placed his hands upon Airiu’s cheek, leering with a wicked smile.

  She hissed, her teeth now pointed with wicked sharpness. Her eyes had turned to cat-slits, and her nails grew like talons. She raked said nails across Bodach’s hand where it still touched her cheek. “Begone, foul creature. I do not want your touch, nor will I tolerate your taunts. Go crawl back to your Queen, and pray she defends you from the consequences of your own actions.”

  Bodach’s skin turned a paler brown, and his eyes grew wide. He took a few fearful steps backward, but Airiu’s teeth, eyes, and nails had already reverted to their lovely form as if nothing had happened. Fingin glanced between the two Fae, thoroughly aware he remained a stranger in this land, a mere human amongst magical Fae, with no way to protect himself should any of them turn against him.

  The bully had left, but Fingin no longer had a taste for company. He retreated to the roundhouse and curled up in his bed, unable to face anyone yet.

  Fingin didn’t have days and nights to regulate his sleep, so he took to his rest whenever he grew tired, overwhelmed, or bored. This seemed to be more and more often as time marched on. He didn’t need to work to feed himself, as Adhna provided plenty of food. While he enjoyed learning the songs and dances from the Fae, the pursuit of knowledge had never been a particular joy for him, so it didn’t drive him like it might a Bard or Druid.

  He just needed to complete his contracted vows with Tomnat and retrieve Bran so they might return to their own world. Other than the brief physical encounter with the other Fae woman, he had no way to make that happen any faster. He must wait.

  He didn’t care for waiting.

  Many sleeps later, Tomnat arrived at Adhna’s home, triumph clear upon her face. “I have conceived. Your contract is half done. As a reward for your success, I have brought you back your hound. You must now wait until the child is born alive, and we shall create the second one.”

  Fingin opened his mouth to say thank you, but she turned on her heel and walked away, her message delivered. His gaze flickered around wildly. “Bran? Bran, where are you?”

  The woof behind him made him spin, and Bran jumped on his chest, making him fall to the ground. He laughed as Bran licked his face, his hands, his neck, any place the dog found open skin. He hugged his friend so tight, the dog yipped. “I’m so glad to see you! Did he hurt you at all? Did he treat you well?”

  “He fed me. He let me run. That’s all. He never stayed with me. That’s good because he smelled bad. Like rotten trees. I don’t like him. Don’t make me go back to him, please?”

  “I won’t, Bran! If I can help it, I’ll never let them take you away from me again.”

  * * *

  Fingin remained bound to Faerie, but at least he had Bran for company. Airiu still came by almost every day now. She and Bran formed a strong friendship, though she didn’t hear his words. They developed a crude way of communicating through bodily actions and different sounds. He understood her words, and with some work, they developed a basic level of understanding.

  Time slipped through his notice, but he began to enjoy this lazy life. While he retained an underlying guilt for creating nothing, doing nothing to earn his keep, Adhna assured him he enjoyed the status of a welcome guest, and he should enjoy his respite from mortal life.

  “I’ve lived in your world. I remember how difficult it is just to keep enough food to eat every day, much less to protect yourself from the weather, the people, and the dangerous ideas.”

  “Dangerous ideas?”

  “Oh, yes, ideas can be dangerous. They can be quite exhilarating, but mostly they’re dangerous. Ideas mean change, you see. While change itself can be good, reactions to change often result in much danger for both your people and mine.”

  Fingin recalled the new religion and his parents’ feuds with those who still followed the old religion. Aideen, young Lorcan’s mother, had also been contentious about this new idea. Adhna had a point.

  Fingin didn’t think he lived by any new ideas. He cast his net, cleaned his fish, and sold them at market. Nothing new about those actions. People had likely fished there for countless generations. However, Fingin created no art, no stories, no songs. He preached no ideas, no inventions, no religion.

  He existed. Much as he did now, but in more comfort.

  Would that be enough?

  He glanced at Airiu, working out the words to a new song with Uasal. She let out a laugh, a joyful sound that tickled his ears and made him smile, though he didn’t know what she laughed at. To create such joy by making something beautiful, that would be a great purpose, a goal to strive for.

  To be fair, he’d created a child in Tomnat. Children often elicited such expressions of delight, and they grew and created their own beauty in the world. Perhaps that would be his purpose; to create children of light, children with Fae blood that might make the world a brighter place. He might have a son who sang beautiful songs or a daughter who carved wooden figures.

  For a moment, he felt grateful for his contrived vow as a chance to create children he’d never have created, but for the Faerie Queen’s command.

  He gazed at Airiu, wishing her command had included her, rather than Tomnat. However, once his vow with Tomnat c
ompleted, perhaps Airiu would want to enter a similar vow with him, one with more romance and passion.

  Fingin held this hope as a salve through the interminable waiting for Tomnat’s birthing. He still had to conceive a second child to complete the terms. In the meantime, he’d enjoy Airiu’s delightful company.

  The image of her sharp teeth flashed into his memory, and he shivered. Even enchanting beauty had its dark side. He’d best keep that in mind with any of the Fae. Tomnat, Airiu, even Adhna must have a feral face. He didn’t doubt Tomnat had several. The taciturn, surly woman who had become his lover sometimes haunted his dreams, though he’d seen her but once since the ceremony.

  More often, Airiu came to him in his dreams. This was where he fantasized about lying with her, instead of Tomnat, a loving embrace rather than a perfunctory one. During his slumber, they reveled in each other’s bodies, exchanging joy.

  Bodach sometimes interrupted his deep dreams with Airiu. The bark-skinned Fae would intrude upon their idyll and pull Airiu away with rough hands. Sometimes Fingin fought the other Fae. Sometimes he failed. Either way, he woke up in a cold sweat and short of breath.

  Thus more time passed, and Fingin began to enjoy his time in Faerie. He had an amiable host, few duties, and the pleasure of Airiu’s company. Who would ask for more?

  Tomnat returned, carrying a small bundle. When she approached, he stood. Had she given birth already? He didn’t think so much time had passed, but he had no way to mark the time. Perhaps she had spent some days in the mortal world, which ran on a different time than Faerie.

  Her face showed the gentlest expression she had yet given him. Her almost tender smile as she gazed upon her child made Fingin smile in response. “Is this our child?”

  She nodded, offering the bundle to him. “We have a son.”

  He cradled the swathed baby in his arms and pushed aside the flap covering the child’s face. Bright blue eyes blinked at him, then crinkled up as the child’s face turned red. The child fussed and burbled, working up to a proper cry. He’d seen the signs in his oldest brother’s child, many seasons ago.

  Fingin held the baby against his chest, rocking and humming to it. This action quieted the child, who now made curious sounds, inquisitive gurgles. His son reached for a strand of his hair, pulling hard and making Fingin’s eyes water.

  This babe, this child, was his son. A piece of himself and of Tomnat, someone who would always carry a piece of his heart. His eyes stayed glued to the clear blue ones staring back. The skin on the child’s fingers seemed translucent, too delicate to touch. Dark curling hair peeked out from under the swaddling fabric.

  He glanced up to Tomnat, delight still radiating from him. “Have you chosen a name?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head. “That is your prerogative, as he’s male. What would you like to call him?”

  Fingin gazed into his son’s eyes. “He must be strong and fierce. I think ‘Conall’ would be a good name, which means fierce wolf.”

  Tomnat reached her hands out for the baby. Fingin released the child to her care. He still couldn’t take his eyes from his son. Tomnat flashed him a smile, gone as soon as it appeared. “Conall it shall be, then. I shall return in a short while to begin his sibling.”

  She turned and left with the babe, leaving Fingin agape and empty, yet strangely satisfied that he’d helped create something, even if that delight had been snatched from his care so quickly.

  * * *

  Fingin lay awake in Adhna’s roundhouse, Bran a warmth against his side. Voices outside drifted in, some urgency in the sound making him strain to hear the words.

  “I’ve heard of such ceremonies, Adhna. The humans celebrate the date they were born. The Queen told me that his is coming soon. We must do something to make him feel as comfortable as possible. We should create a celebration!”

  “Grimnaugh, are you mad? We don’t know what that even looks like.”

  “Me? I’m mad? You’re the one always going about with bees in your beard.”

  Adhna huffed. “Is it a crime to like honey?”

  “Regardless, we should have a celebration. Gifts. Decorations. Singing. Dancing.”

  “What sort of decorations?”

  Grimnaugh snorted. “How in Danu’s name should I know? Just something… festive. Colorful. Pretty.”

  “Colorful and pretty. Are you sure this isn’t just a ploy to bring more females to my home? So you can dance the day away?”

  Fingin could hear the grin in Grimnaugh’s response. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, but no. That isn’t my purpose.”

  With a low chuckle, Adhna walked away. Grimnaugh must have followed him because when Fingin rose and walked outside, neither were nearby.

  Bran joined him and gave a great yawn, shaking his head to dislodge the sleep.

  When the two Fae returned, their arms were full of odds and ends, few of which Fingin could identify. When he asked questions, though, they shooed him away.

  “Just some things we need to prepare. Go see if Airiu will tell you a story. I’d heard she’d learned a new one.”

  With a narrow gaze at the two conspiring Fae, Fingin and Bran sought Airiu out. She had indeed learned a new story and smiled when he asked to hear it. The smile lit up the surrounding air.

  While the not-quite-butterflies alighted on her hair, Airiu told her tale, an intriguing story involving the Morrigú, goddess of war and death.

  “When the battle had finished, she and her ravens fell upon the dead. She, in her form of Macha, collected the severed heads of the fallen warriors. One by one, she gathered their hair into her hands, like a harvest of acorns. She carried these heads with her, proud of her trophies, as the ravens picked the juicy meat from their eyes.”

  Bran lay down beside him, concentrating on her words. “You can eat acorns? I didn’t know acorns were food.”

  “Not for you or me, no. Not without extracting the meat and cooking it. It gives you an aching stomach. Squirrels can eat them, though.”

  Bran’s head popped up at the mention of squirrels, his ears alert. “Squirrels? Where?”

  Fingin and Airiu both laughed. She said, “We have no squirrels here in Faerie, Bran. There are small scurrying creatures, but they aren’t the same as squirrels. They can be a great deal more deadly than what you have in the mortal realm.”

  She took a piece of fruit from the dish between them, and he watched as she savored the sweet flesh, juice dribbling down her chin. He reached forward to brush it away, but a sound made him turn.

  Tomnat strode into the glade. While he had a duty to fulfill, he remained loath to extract himself from Airiu’s company. Still, he dropped his hand as all three stood to greet the new arrival.

  His hesitation must have been obvious, for Tomnat scowled at the other Fae woman. “Play all you like, Airiu, but he has responsibilities. He is not yours to command.”

  Airiu narrowed her eyes. “You may have used your influence at court to get what you want from him, but his heart remains mine, Tomnat. Go on, take him for your contract. He’ll not surrender his soul to you.”

  Her eyes had turned to cat-slits again, but her teeth remained human. Fingin feared the feral set didn’t lurk far from the surface. Tomnat appeared taken aback, but she returned Airiu’s threat with a wicked smile. “You think you’ll have your way with him when I’m finished, do you? Just you wait. You’ll see. Now, human, we have business to complete.”

  She grabbed him by the arm, and with an apologetic glance at Airiu, he allowed her to lead him away. She led him back to the bower where they’d completed their first tryst. This time, his experience had even less romance than the first time, if possible. He had no control over his body’s reaction to her attentions, and she completed the act quickly. Tomnat hesitated when she’d finished, and then she raked her fingernails–which had somehow turned into cat’s claws–across his chest, leaving thin slashes which bled onto the gossamer fabric of the bower.

  Without another
word, she let out a dreadful laugh and left him.

  Daubing at the scratches, he winced at the stinging pain. He dressed with care, trying not to get more blood on his clothing. He then returned once again to Adhna’s home. He felt branded, like a farmer’s kine.

  When the roundhouse came into view, Fingin noticed Airiu waited for him, but Bodach had joined her. She didn’t appear happy with his company, but she sat straight, doing her best to ignore his presence. The darker Fae moved his hand up her arm, caressed her shoulder, then ran his finger down between her breasts. Her jaw clenched, she refused to move or acknowledge his intrusions. When his efforts elicited no reaction, he moved closer, until his lips almost touched hers.

  Fingin hurried, hoping to help Airiu. However, he needn’t have worried.

  As soon as Bodach’s lips touched hers, Airiu bared her pointed teeth, and, when that didn’t make him draw back, she sank them into his cheek. His bark skin resisted more than bare skin would have, but they still broke the surface, making him cry out in pain and surprise. He jumped back, holding his hand to his face.

  “Foul harridan! I will see you punished for this outrage!”

  Airiu hissed at him. “Me? Punished? For your own outrages far surpass my own, Bodach, and well you know it!”

  Bodach let out a hearty laugh and then winced from his wound. “The Queen won’t listen to your side of the story, Airiu. Have no hope for that.”

  “She may not listen, but she will hear, none the less.”

  Another voice came from behind Fingin. He spun around to see the Queen. “What will I know, Airiu?”

  Both Fae fell silent, their heads bowed. Fingin’s body stayed still. He wanted to run, to hide behind Adhna’s roundhouse, but he had no control over his muscles. With great effort, he relaxed his knees, which let his body drop to the ground. He felt safer out of the line of the Faerie Queen’s wrath.

  The Queen’s voice, even in this bucolic glade, far away from her imposing palace, bore through his bones. “Bodach, you will explain this situation.”

  The bark-skinned Fae sidled up to her, his head still bowed. However, his voice retained its customary arrogance. “My Queen, this Fae has been taunting the mortal, tempting him to break his vow with Tomnat. I’m only trying to convince her such activities aren’t fair to a poor human, one unable to resist the lure of the Fae.”