Druid Master

by M. D. Massey

  Knowing what I knew about the girl, she’d have gotten word to me by now, at least to let me know she was okay. Fallyn Elita Randolph was as loyal as a St. Bernard, and just as steadfast. Fool that I was, only now did I realize that somebody was keeping her away from me.

  After witnessing Badb’s power, I knew there was a good chance I wouldn’t survive a confrontation with her and Fuamnach. That said, I’d hate to die knowing Fallyn might think I didn’t care enough to come looking for her. If I was going to go down in a blaze of glory, first I’d let Fallyn know I hadn’t abandoned her after what happened with Diarmuid.

  Besides, I suspected there were things going on between Finnegas and the local faction leaders that I hadn’t been privy to over the years. Sure, I could ask Mom, but there was no way I could gauge the veracity of anything she said without hearing the rest of the story. It was high time for me to confront Luther, Samson, and Maeve, to find out what they knew about the book the old man left me.

  But first I needed to see Maureen, to let her know that Finnegas had passed. Plus, I was certain she’d have insights on the old man’s gift that I couldn’t get anywhere else. And then? Then, I’d find Fallyn.

  4

  I left Mom in the Grove and headed to the Junkyard. She’d be pissed at being stranded there, but I’d deal with her later. I had zero patience for her disapproving bullshit at the moment, and I needed time to figure things out without her looking over my shoulder.

  Knowing that the place was probably being watched, I cast Mom’s obfuscation spell on myself along with my own chameleon spell. Once I knew I was damned good and hidden, I had the Oak plop me down inside the junkyard’s front office. Maureen was sitting behind the counter as usual, shuffling paperwork and keeping the bills paid in my absence.

  “Stay away from the windows, boyo, if ya’ know what’s good fer ya’,” she said without looking up from her work. “Badb’s spies are sitting on the power lines across the street.”

  “Think she’ll notice that I popped in?” I said as I took a step back, blending into the shadows in the far corner of the office to avoid being seen.

  “Likely as not, but never you mind that. The Seer’s gone, and I know that’s what ye’ve come to tell me. I felt his passing earlier.”

  I looked closer at the half-fae woman who’d acted as surrogate mother to me all these years. Her fine elfin features had been marred by the ravages of grief and pain, eyes red-rimmed with deep shadows beneath them. It was obvious that she mourned, but I saw strength there as well. Maureen was no shrinking violet, that was for certain.

  “I’m so sorry, Maureen. I did everything I could to save him, and it wasn’t enough.”

  “Hush now, lad,” she said in a near whisper. “His time was up, and he spent what power he had left keeping you alive. We spoke about this eventuality, many a time, and I can tell you with a certainty that he had no regrets. None.”

  Despite her words of encouragement, I lowered my head in shame and remorse. Was there something more I could’ve done? The Dagda and Dian Cécht said it was inevitable, that it was simply his time. Still, I couldn’t help but blame myself for his passing.

  “Ach, I can hear you sulking all the way over here.” Despite the admonishment, she spoke in a gentle tone that lacked any of her usual business-like demeanor. “Take that puss off yer’ face, else you’ll have me in tears all oer’ again as well.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And stop apologizing. Ye’ve nothin’ ta’ be sorry for, no matter what that voice inside ya’ says.”

  I slumped down the wall, dropping my head back as I took a seat on the floor. “He lifted the geas, Maureen. Why? I was perfectly happy thinking that I had a normal mother.”

  Maureen brushed a lock of fiery red hair away from her face. “Because ya’ need her, that’s why. Despite her rough edges and general lack of maternal instincts, she cares, and she can help you defeat those crones.”

  I gave a short, bitter laugh. “She cares. Yeah, right.”

  “Lad, now that ya’ know o’ your mixed heritage, ya’ also know we have that in common. Til’ now ye’ve only known the human side, and culturally your perspective was formed based on those norms. But ya’ can’t judge your mum based on the way humans view parent-child relationships.”

  “In the ten years I spent with her, I can’t remember a single time when she gave me the impression that she gave a shit about me.”

  “Aye, from a human perspective, that’d be true. But from a Fomori perspective, she’s been one ace of a mother. She hid ya’ from harm when ya’ were just a wee lad an’ tried ta’ give ya’ the tools ye’d need fer’ survival. Then, after ya’ lost yer’ da, she made certain that ye’d have a strong human influence ta’ help ya’ navigate both the emergence of your Fomorian talents, an’ yer’ inevitable introduction ta’ the supernatural world.”

  “Easy for you to say, Maureen. You were raised fae.”

  Maureen clucked her tongue. “An’ that’s why I know what it is ta’ struggle, coming ta’ grips with the other side of yer’ culture. Feckin’ hell, if ye’d been born in Fomori society, there’s a good chance they’d have killed ya’ straight outta’ the womb. Yer’ mum kept ya’ safe and did the best she could with what she had. Think about how cold an’ calculatin’ ya’ get when that great ugly fooker comes out, Colin. Don’t judge the lass too harshly fer bein’ who she is at heart.”

  She was making sense, but my heart wasn’t jibing with what my head was hearing. Rather than needlessly upset Maureen by arguing a moot point, I decided to swing the topic around to something useful. Chiefly, figuring out what the fuck I should do next.

  “I hear what you’re saying, and I’ll take it into consideration. Honestly, I shouldn’t even be dwelling on this crap, considering that I have at least two goddesses after me and no idea how to stop them.”

  “Only the two? What happened ta’ the fop?”

  “He, um, met an untimely demise. Mom was responsible for that, actually.”

  Maureen chuckled. “Sounds like ye’d best keep her around, then.”

  “If I can stand her,” I said under my breath. “Anyway, without Finnegas to guide me, I’m feeling pretty damned rudderless.”

  “Didja’ get the ‘gift’ he left ya’?”

  “Yeah, mom had me grab it, then Badb showed up and leveled the place.” Maureen winced at that, and I realized I might’ve broken that news with a bit more tact. “Believe me, it broke my heart to see it happen. Thankfully, the wards held long enough for us to escape.”

  “Gah. I’ve a mind ta’ go lookin’ fer the cunt myself, ’cept I’ve no death wish.” The half-kelpie chewed the cap of her pen as she stared out the window. “That book is somehow the key ta’ his plans, but I’ve no idea how. Keep it safe, and try ta’ glean its secrets afore ya’ face the Crow.”

  “I figured as much. But besides that, what am I supposed to do? Just hide out in the Grove until I decipher Finn’s journal?”

  “Nay. Eventually, she’ll catch up with ya’, an’ that’s a fact. She’ll be bound ta’ find a way ta’ anchor the Oak, an’ then she’ll try ta’ destroy it. The time fer’ a defensive game has passed, and ye’ll need ta’ go on the offense if yer’ ta’ survive this mess.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meanin’ ya’ need all the help ya’ can get.” She grabbed a legal-sized envelope off the counter and tossed it my general direction. “Speaking o’ which, this came for ya’ by courier, right before ya’ popped in.”

  I caught the envelope and looked it over, searching for a return address. All it said was “DRUID,” written in magic marker on the front. After checking it for traps, I opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. It was a note written in marker on several sheets of cheap, truck stop toilet paper.

  Lad,

  Don’t use any of the tricks I taught you in front of B or F, not even that bit you stole from the Japanese fellow. They’ll see it straight away, then flit off to tell all and sun
dry. Believe me, you do NOT want to be hunted down and tried for using forbidden magic tricks.

  Sincerely,

  C.

  P.S. - You should probably eat this so no one else sees it. That’s why I wrote it on bogroll. See? I’m always looking out for you.

  “What is it?” Maureen asked.

  I balled up the note and incinerated it with a cantrip, dusting the ash off my hands. “Nothing, just more complications. You were saying something about help?”

  “Aye. ’Tis time ta’ gather your forces, lad, and prepare fer’ war.”

  “Maybe so, but first I need to understand all the angles.” While I was thinking about what I needed to know, and from whom, Maureen’s affect caught my attention. She looked somehow diminished, lost even, and I realized that the woman who had been my rock all this time might be about to break. “Maureen, how are you doing?”

  “I’m fine, as I already told ya’. Been preparin’ fer’ this fer’ some time now.”

  “Yeah, but is the junkyard secure? Are you even safe here?”

  “Safe as houses,” she said with a smile that looked forced.

  I didn’t believe a word of that. “Maureen—”

  “I’ll be fine, Colin. The wards will hold, considering all the work The Seer and I did…”

  Her voice trailed off as her eyes began to well with tears. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do anything to improve her emotional state, and I felt terrible about it. But at least I could make sure she was safe.

  “Just the same, I’m going to get you some security. I made a few friends in Iceland, and at least one of them is itching for a fight with Badb.”

  “That’s not necessary, lad.”

  “It is, and it’ll make me feel a lot better if you have someone watching your six. Be right back.”

  A quick request to the Oak, and I popped back to Iceland where Ásgeir was waiting to hear from me. It was daylight in Austin but nighttime at my camp in Hallormsstaður National Forest. By request, the Oak dropped me a few hundred yards away, to avoid spooking the troll. When I walked into camp, he was turning a spitted caribou carcass over an enormous fire in the center of the clearing.

  “I wondered if you’d forgotten about me,” he said, keeping his eyes on the spit, although it’d only been twelve hours or so since he’d last seen me. “But I figured you had much to do. How fares your master?”

  “He, um, didn’t make it.”

  The troll stopped tending to his meal and turned to face me, his beady brown eyes softening between the Dr. Who hat and scarf that he wore to conceal the rest of his face. “I am sorry, druid, and I mourn both for your loss and for the fact that I did not get to meet him. The way you spoke of him, he must have been a great man.”

  My voice caught in my throat at his heartfelt words, and it took me a moment to gather my composure before I could reply. “He was, Ásgeir, and frankly I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. Actually, that’s why I’m here. Now that Finnegas is gone, a mutual friend is going to need protection.”

  “You know I can only guard this person between dawn and dusk, correct?”

  “I do, so you’ll be playing tag team with another buddy of mine.”

  The troll’s eyebrows rose at that remark. “We are friends, druid?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “Hmm,” he said, although it came out as a long, low rumble from his throat. “I must admit, I’ve come to admire you as well. It has been some time since I had a friend. Believe me when I say I will not betray your trust.”

  Despite the heartache I felt, I smiled. “That’s why we’re friends, Ásgeir—you’ve proven that I can trust you.”

  “Hmph,” he said with a nod in the affirmative. “And who shall I be guarding?”

  “Her name is Maureen, and she’s like a mother to me. She is half-fae, but don’t let that concern you. She helped raise me, and there’s probably no one on this Earth I trust more than her, now that Finnegas is gone.”

  “This I understand. We have the family we are born with, and the family we choose.” He scratched beneath his hat with two hairy, sausage-like fingers. “Considering that she reared you, I take it she is formidable in her own right?”

  “That would be an understatement. But she’s no match for an angry goddess, which is why I want someone near her to keep her safe.” The meat he was cooking smelled delicious, and I pulled out my hunting knife as if to cut off a piece. “You mind?”

  “Not at all. I’d hate for it to go to waste. If you could arrange to bring it with us?”

  “Consider it done. Oh, it’s daytime in Austin, so I’m going to drop you off in my bedroom at the junkyard. Feel free to make yourself at home. You’re welcome to make yourself a proper troll cave there after night falls.”

  “Well, then let us meet this foster mother of yours. Incidentally, are there any cows near your junkyard in Texas? I should very much like to pet one, before or after this situation is concluded.”

  Again, despite the gravity of the situation and my broken heart, I had to smile. “No, but don’t worry. If we get through this, I’ll make sure you get to pet a cow.”

  “Oh, thank you, Colin.” The troll clapped his hands softly, like a child who’d just been told they could have cake and ice cream for dinner. Suddenly, he paused, dropping his weight and hunching his shoulders as he looked this way and that. “On your guard, druid—a god approaches.”

  “Who is it? Is it Badb?”

  “Have no fear, McCool,” a deep, pleasant voice replied from the shadows. “It is I, Váli, come to conclude our deal before you return to your homeland.”

  A seven-foot-tall, muscular, blond man with a thick beard strutted into camp like he owned the place, glancing around and giving the area a grudging nod. The guy bled arrogance, but not necessarily in a way that made you hate him, as it seemed to fit his personality. Váli had done right by me back in Jotunheim, so despite his excessive swagger, I felt obligated to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Just as the last few times we’d met, he was dressed like a lumberjack in jeans, work boots, flannel, and a watch cap, with an enormous felling axe that rested over his shoulder. I had no idea what that axe could do, but when I looked at it in the magical spectrum, it bled magic like a sieve, and I knew I didn’t want to be on the wrong end of it. Ásgeir once said Váli was Thor’s equal, and considering the thunder god’s reputation, I didn’t want to be on the wrong end of his younger brother’s temper, either.

  “Greetings, druid,” the god said with a smile. He gave Ásgeir an inscrutable look. “Now, there is one I have not seen in many a century. How fare you, tröll?”

  My companion grunted. “Since I was fired from my post by your father? Admittedly, life has been rough. But as of late, my employment prospects seem to be looking up.”

  Váli nodded, as if losing the favor of the gods was a matter of course for lesser beings. In his mind, he probably figured that we all existed at the discretion of his kind. Thus, the consequences of his father’s fickleness toward his subjects were no concern of his.

  The god took a long, slow sniff. “Mmm, I see I’ve come at mealtime.”

  Without a word, the troll tore off a haunch and handed it to our new guest. Váli took it with a nod, then he looked at me expectantly. It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted, and when it dawned on me, I realized that even the gods I liked annoyed the hell out of me.

  “Ah, right. Give me a second.”

  I dug around inside my Craneskin Bag until I found a case of crappy American beer I’d thrown in there for Finnegas ages ago. He always drank the cheap stuff, like Pearl and Natty Light. I chose not to think about the fact that I’d never get to sit around the junkyard drinking shitty beer with the old man again and cracked open the box, tossing one to each of them.

  “Sorry that it’s warm—best I could do on short notice,” I said by way of apology.

  “No need to apologize, druid,” the god said with a satisfied smile. �
��I was raised on cold meat, warm ale, and hot wenches. Two of the three will suffice.”

  Váli dug in with gusto, and after sharing a look with Ásgeir I shrugged and followed suit. The meat was good, and I was a lot hungrier than I realized, so I ate and drank in silence to avoid offending our guest. After the god had finished his haunch of meat and killed the better part of a twelve-pack, he tossed the bone aside and cleared his throat.

  “Your hospitality is appreciated, druid. Now, to business. We had an agreement, and I’d like to see it fulfilled. Please bring me my son’s remains so I might give him a proper burial.”

  “Um, now?” I asked, knowing the answer. Váli cocked his head, looking at me as if I were the slow kid in class. “Right, of course.”

  Rather than risk popping into the center of the junkyard in broad daylight—Badb’s spies were likely flying a circuit around the place, watching for my return—I instead had the Oak bring Cade’s remains to us. Which was kind of awkward, considering that I’d killed him by smashing him inside a couple of old junked cars in the crusher. When the four-foot square cube of compacted metal appeared next to me, I watched the god’s face carefully for any sign that he might be offended.

  Hmm, nothing. Better to be on the safe side.

  “Give me a minute,” I said, standing. “I’d like to give Cade’s remains a more suitable receptacle.”

  Drawing on the Oak’s power, I focused on the metal that surrounded Cade’s pulverized corpse. In truth, I had more affinity for wood and earth than metal, but I could manage to shape it when needed. Working the energies of druidic magic, I forced the metal to melt and flow, reshaping it until it became a completely sealed, humanoid-shaped sarcophagus that bore the image of Cade Valison in relief on the top surface. I then drew most of the heat from it, forcing it to cool as I redirected the energy into the fire.

  Once done, I took a step back, nearing stumbling as the effort had taken quite a lot out of me. Cade’s father had been watching my handiwork the entire time, again with that inscrutable expression on his face. He stood, approaching the coffin and tenderly laying a hand on its surface.