Earth's Blood (Earth Reclaimed)

by Ann Gimpel

  Aislinn plaited her wet hair and dug through drawers in Marta’s bedroom. Though the woman had been as much of a packrat with clothing as she’d been with food, there wasn’t much left that was clean. If things ever slow down, I’ll rinse out a few things. She pulled on tan sweatpants and a nondescript black top. A green sweater with moth holes in it provided some warmth. Aislinn crossed the room and peered out the window. Stars scattered across a black sky. Dawn was still a few hours away.

  She stuffed her feet into scuffed slippers and tromped down the hall to the kitchen. The smell of cooked grain greeted her before she pushed open the swinging door. Rather than mage lights, the men had lit a couple of fragrant candles. They sat at the kitchen table spooning food into their mouths and passing a mead bottle back and forth. She latched onto it and took a deep drink before filling a bowl from the pan sitting on the stove. Given the absence of gas and electricity, magic did a fair job filling in.

  “Thanks.” She spoke around a mouthful of barley and dried vegetables and then pulled out a chair and sat across from the men.

  “Well”—Bran winked at her—“’twould have been far better had there been a kitchen wench to see to the cooking.”

  “I agree.” She winked back. “I overheard some of your conversation coming down the hall. You were discussing the reinforcements Arawn went to the Old Country to find.”

  “Aye.” Gwydion nodded, his forehead creased into worried lines. “I doona understand why they are not here yet.”

  “Maybe everyone was busy?” Aislinn raised a brow and kept eating. She held out a hand for the mead bottle.

  “Nay.” Bran gave her the honey wine. “It doesna work that way. If one of us asks for help…” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

  “How the hell did the two of you end up in Perrikus’s world?” She passed the mead back to Bran.

  “Miscalculation,” Gwydion muttered.

  “Aye. It dinna help that we nearly lost the entire house in the process.”

  Her spoon stopped midway to her rmouth. “What?”

  Bran looked chagrined. “Things happened verra fast. The coffin lids flew open. The hybrids weren’t sluggish at all this time. They sprang out and attacked us—”

  “We might have managed,” Gwydion broke in, “except I felt the house slipping toward the border world, so I had to divert my attention.”

  “When he did that—” Bran took another swallow of mead “—the female hybrid jumped him.”

  Gwydion made a face. “Aye, I can still feel her fingers cutting off my wind. Magic didn’t make a dent in her chokehold on me.”

  “We couldna figure it out until D’Chel showed up.”

  Aislinn swallowed hard. “D’Chel was here?”

  “And why would that surprise you?” Bran asked. “The dark ones can travel as easily as us now. They couldn’t afore the Old Ones cast the mischief that let them escape their lands, but that happened over three years ago.”

  “Mischief is too kind a word. Allowing that scum to invade Earth was the worst kind of treachery.” She blinked back tears. “It just feels like a violation to have D’Chel so close.”

  “Lass.” Gwydion leveled his blue gaze right at her. “Nowhere is safe. Earth is under attack. There is the best of chances we may lose it to the dark gods and your buddies, the Lemurians. Unless…” He hooded his eyes.

  “Unless what? And they’re scarcely my buddies.” Aislinn scraped the bottom of her bowl with her spoon. She was surprised she’d polished off what had been a generous portion. Guess I was hungrier than I thought. She looked at Gwydion, waiting for him to answer her, but he didn’t. “Unless what?” she prodded.

  The back door snicked open. Rune and Bella trotted in.

  The raven flew to Bran’s shoulder. “When are you going after my bond mate?” she demanded.

  Bran ruffled the bird’s feathers. “We will give him and Arawn until mid-morning. It will take us that long to come up with a strategy.”

  Aislinn dropped her spoon into the bowl and held out her hands. Rune padded over and sniffed her from feet to crotch. “What are you doing?” She batted his nose away.

  “Making certain you are better.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to be cared about.” She buried her hands in his black and silver coat and smoothed it.

  “Out of the mouths of wolves.” Gwydion got to his feet and walked to her side of the table. He placed a hand on her head and the other on her abdomen. Aislinn felt his magic thrum through her. “Hmph. Did a spot of Healing yourself, did ye? I added to it, but ye were verra close to well.”

  Aislinn nodded. “I thought I took care of…” She shook her head. It was hard to talk about the baby that wouldn’t be out loud. “Besides,” she hurried on, “you never told me what happened after D’Chel showed up.”

  “Och aye.” Gwydion straightened and rolled his eyes. “Things fair went to hell in a handbasket.”

  “And damned fast.” Bran got up and pulled cups from the cupboard. “Tea, anyone?”

  “I’d like some,” Aislinn said.

  “Aye, for me as well. It dinna take long afore it was abundantly clear if we dinna follow behind D’Chel, he’d pull the entire house into his world.”

  Aislinn’s eyes widened. She sucked in a breath. “He’s powerful enough to do that?”

  Bran snorted. “Lass, Gwydion and I could do much the same. This location isna stable. But if D’Chel had done that, ’twould have put the entire area for miles around at risk.”

  “Och aye, we couldna chance it. I doona know how many still live in this region, but ’twouldn’t have been fair to them.”

  “One of the things I’ve been thinking about is we really ought to move from here if it’s that unsafe,” Aislinn began.

  The kitchen window rattled. Her head snapped up.

  Dewi’s snout pushed against the glass. “Come outside. All of you.”

  Gwydion laughed. “Same old Dewi.”

  “And ye were hoping for…?” Bran handed steaming mugs all round.

  Gwydion shrugged and took his tea. He grabbed the mead bottle and poured some into his cup.

  “Looks like a grand idea. Ashamed I didn’t spike it myself,” Bran said and held out his mug to Gwydion.

  “Me, too.” Aislinn took a sip of the steamy alcoholic mixture and headed for the door with Rune at her heels. She glanced over one shoulder. “By the way. What happened to the hybrids?”

  “I have no idea.” Gwydion shrugged and followed her outside.

  The air was cold and still. She filled her lungs with its tranquility. Nidhogg was a few feet from the house. Dewi lumbered over to stand next to him. Both dragons glowed against the blackness of the night.

  Bella flew to Dewi’s shoulders and perched. Elaborately carved staff clutched in one hand, Gwydion pushed past Aislinn and down the steps with Bran close behind. Both Celts stopped a few feet in front of Nidhogg and bowed low.

  “I am grateful the goddess has seen fit to return you to us,” Gwydion said once he’d straightened.

  “What a crock.” Dewi leaned forward and batted his chest with a taloned foreleg. “I rescued him just like we could have if you’d only—”

  “Enough.” Nidhogg’s voice cut like a whip. “I told you, Dewi. We start fresh. No recriminations.”

  Flames flashed from Dewi’s mouth. She turned her head, but even so, she narrowly missed setting the house on fire.

  “Good to see someone take her to task,” Rune whispered into Aislinn’s mind. It was all she could do not to laugh.

  “Shhhh. She’ll hear you.”

  “I, too, am glad ye are returned.” Bran straightened, laid fingers on his lips, and then placed them on the dragon’s chest. “I knew ye would, for I saw it in a prophecy.”

  Nidhogg lowered his head and nudged both men. “Thank you. Contrary to my mate’s views, your kind thoughts are well-received.”

  “Aye, we canna go back,” Gwydion murmured. “Bran’s prophecy aside, the ha
rd truth of things is I was certain ye were dead, or else so weakened ye may as well have been.”

  “The thing that saved me was when Perrikus discovered a way to tap into my power.” Steam billowed from Nidhogg’s nostrils. “He made certain to feed me enough to not only keep me alive, but so I’d be able to help maintain life on his pitiful excuse for a world.”

  “What will happen without you there?” Aislinn asked.

  “The world will finish dying. Without trees, the atmosphere will gradually poison even the few things left alive on it.”

  “Doona fear,” Bran said dryly. “Perrikus will jump ship long afore that happens.”

  “Hell,” Gywdion chimed in. “For all we know, he may be gone already.”

  “Aye, in search of Fionn and Arawn, no doubt,” Bran added.

  A lead weight settled in Aislinn’s stomach. She moved between the two dragons and said, “We have to do something to get Fionn and Arawn back.” Guilt about the hours they’d wasted jabbed her.

  “Since it is Arawn,” Nidhogg sounded thoughtful, “he no doubt took the roads of the dead.”

  Aislinn gritted her teeth. “Yes, Bran said that earlier. It sounds ominous. What do you mean?”

  “Well, lass, he is the god of the dead—” Gwydion began.

  “I know that,” she interrupted. “It doesn’t tell me why they aren’t back yet. Or what the roads of the dead actually are.”

  Bran cleared his throat. “’Tis conjecture on my part, but one of the favorite tricks the dark play is to corral your magic so it bounces back at you.”

  “Yes, they did that to me. Once I figured out it was the tapestries and took them down—”

  “Doona interrupt”—Bran eyed her—“else I’ll never finish. Ye were fortunate the dark gods were lazy. ’Tis not usually something so simple as a spelled piece of fabric. In any event, Arawn knows secret ways into the halls of the dead, even from the border worlds. ’Twas the only way we could think of to subvert the dark ones’ magic. ’Twas a risky choice, though. Far more dangerous than travel from Earth, since Fionn and Arawn will end up trapped in the airless void betwixt the worlds if Arawn canna locate a gateway in time.”

  Aislinn’s gut clenched. For a moment, she thought she might vomit up her meal. “So they’re either trapped where they can’t breathe, or they’re somewhere in Arawn’s realm of the dead?”

  “Yes,” Dewi said. “If they made it to the halls of the dead, there is nothing to worry about. They should be here directly.”

  “I can’t feel Fionn through the Hunter bond,” Bella said.

  Gwydion blew out a tense sounding breath. “That isna good.”

  “Aye, it argues they are far away,” Bran agreed.

  Aislinn thought about her bond with Rune. It extended over distance, but with limits. “How far? My bond with Rune—”

  “—is different than Fionn’s with Bella,” Bran said. “If the bird canna sense him, he may well be trapped between Arawn’s realm and the border world.”

  “Is there some way to go look?” Aislinn didn’t like the piercing note in her voice. She’d leave in a heartbeat if she had any idea where to go.

  “We can enter the realms of the dead,” Nidhogg said.

  “Yes, but we would need to borrow your bodies. The tunnels are too narrow for us otherwise,” Dewi added.

  Gwydion curved his handsome face into a scowl. “It may come to that.”

  Aislinn marched to Dewi and laid a hand on her scaled side. “I want to go. Will you take me?”

  “If she goes, I’m going with her,” Rune announced.

  “Lass.” Bran took her arm. “’Tis a task for Gwydion and me.”

  She rounded on him and jerked out of his grasp. “Why?”

  “Because we command far more magic than you.”

  Aislinn stood very straight, chin jutted forward. “I think I’m probably stronger than you with Dewi linked to me.”

  The dragon chortled. “You’ve finally realized that. Mayhap there’s hope for you yet.”

  Aislinn felt like kicking her. Dewi was less than an unlikely ally because Aislinn still wasn’t totally certain she could be trusted. Maybe Nidhogg altered the equation, though.

  “Doona be stubborn.” Gwydion infused compulsion into his words. “I doona wish to explain to Fionn why we sent his woman off to do a man’s task.”

  “Goddammit. This isn’t the fifteen hundreds. Even then, I’ll bet the odd woman carted a broadsword.”

  “Stop.” Bran stepped between them. “We waste time and resources. Let us map out a strategy. Once ’tis done, we shall see who implements it.”

  Fionn’s lungs burned. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen. Arawn’s grasp on him had long since weakened. Every time they’d turned from the void outside the border world, and made a run for the paths of the dead, they’d run up against a trap. The first time, they’d tried to power through it and been snared in something like a magical spider’s web. It had taken far too much of their power to free themselves.

  “Do we have enough for one more try?” Arawn’s voice was the barest of whispers.

  “’Tis either that or head for the Dreaming now.”

  “If we drain ourselves too much, we willna make the Dreaming.”

  Fionn tried to swallow, but didn’t have any saliva. Arawn was right. They could sacrifice their immortality in this airless space between the worlds. He sent magic inward and took stock. “Yes, I think I have enough for one more attempt.” He clung to thoughts of Aislinn. He had to survive—for her and their child. Love burned bright within him. It shored up his flagging power.

  Arawn laughed softly. It came out more like a wheeze. “Aye. Now if I just had a lass to strengthen me.”

  Fionn gripped Arawn’s arm and offered what little power he had. “We are in this together.”

  Arawn shut his eyes. His face was gray. “Let us pray this works. I will jump us to the entrance at the far reaches of my realm. If we are verra lucky, the dark ones will not know about it.”

  “Ready.”

  Arawn drew them through the airless void. It seemed they traveled in slow motion. Fionn’s limbs ached. His lungs were raw. Blood ran down his face from ruptured blood vessels in his nose and mouth. Just when he was about to tell Arawn they had to head for the Dreaming now while they could still reach it, the air got infinitesimally thicker.

  “Aye, and I think this will work,” Arawn rasped.

  They toppled out into a dark, rocky cave. Fionn hit hard because he didn’t have enough magic left to soften his landing. He sucked air hungrily. “Bless the goddess. I can breathe.”

  “Aye. Hand over some of the water I smell in your rucksack.”

  Fionn was shocked how long it took him to unbuckle the pack and get it off his shoulders. It was pitch black where they were. He tried to fire his mage light, but couldn’t gin up anything brighter than a paper match. He handed one water bottle to Arawn and drank deep from another. “Where are we exactly?”

  “The good news is we escaped the border world.”

  Fionn waited, but Arawn didn’t say anything further. He drank some more water and grappled in the pack for dried fruit. “Well, what’s the rest?”

  “We are sealed off from the halls of the dead.”

  “Huh? I thought this was all part of your realm.”

  “Sorry, I’m too tapped out to make sense. Long ago, I set aside a portion of my kingdom to confine those who were too restless to remain here. ’Tis fortified with strong magics to keep them contained.”

  “Can’t we jump out of here?”

  Arawn shook his head. “If we could, so could they—the ones who controlled magic, anyway. I believe I can free us, but not until I have rested. I haven’t enough alchemy left to do much more than your pathetic attempt at a mage light.”

  Fionn felt anger stir, but it was as weak as his light. “Did ye know this was where we would come out?”

  “Aye.”

  “Ye should have told me.”

/>   “Why? If ’twas the only choice left, would ye have turned it down?”

  Fionn pounded a fist into his thigh. “Damn it, Arawn. If we doona return on the heels of Bran and Gwydion, Aislinn will take off hunting for me.” Fear chilled him. Once he heard himself say the words, he knew how true they were.

  “Sleep, Fionn. If ye canna, then rest. The sooner our magic is recovered, the sooner I can work on freeing us.”

  “Here.” Fionn shoved a handful of dried apricots at Arawn. “Eat something. That should speed the process.” Fionn placed his rucksack beneath his head and stretched out on the cold, muddy floor. A rock poked him in the back. He reached beneath himself and pried it out of the muck.

  Weariness buffeted him. He doused his light and shut his eyes. Aislinn’s face rose before him, pinched with worry. He was too shattered to figure out if it was a true sending or if he’d just imagined it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It had been light for several hours. Aislinn chafed at the delay. Gwydion and Bran had talked around whether she was to be included when they went after Fionn and Arawn. To keep from tearing their eyes out, she retreated to Marta’s bedroom to retrieve a coat. She put it on and zipped it up to her chin as a hedge against the cold, blustery day. The Celts had promised they could leave by mid-morning, and it was nearly time.

  “Well?” She stomped down the back stairs with Rune sticking to her like glue.

  “I say she can come,” Dewi muttered. “She may have a better feel for Fionn’s whereabouts than either of you.”

  “I doona agree.” Gwydion stood in front of the dragon, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Too bad.” Aislinn funneled magic and helped Rune clamber onto Dewi’s back. She climbed up after him. Bella was already nestled in the junction where the dragon’s neck and back came together. She fluttered into the air before resettling in Aislinn’s lap.

  Gwydion rolled his eyes. “What happened to women who did as they were told?”

  “They went out of fashion five hundred years ago,” Aislinn retorted. “Now which of you is coming with us?”

  Gwydion and Bran drew a few feet away, heads bent close.