by Ann Gimpel
“But Tarika came to you for help.” Raene looked at Aegir.
“Only because her problem was tangled up with other Selkies.”
A thought slammed Raene between the eyes. She shouldn’t say anything because then she’d reveal she’d scanned Aegir’s mind, but she couldn’t keep quiet, either. “That woman I saw when I, uh, helped myself to your memories. The one in a leather outfit with a bow. That was Arianrhod? She’s the boy’s mother? How could she walk away from him? I don’t understand.”
“I’m sure Johnathan wouldn’t either. Magic already runs strong within him.” Aegir’s reply was edged with icy bitterness. “Angus will erase his memories just like the Celts did to him.”
“You didn’t answer me.” Raene’s fingers curled into fists all by themselves. “How could his mother walk away?”
“’Tis a long story, and we lack the luxury of time,” Aegir said. “Briefly, as I ken things, the two of them hashed out a deal. Arianrhod spent the latter part of her pregnancy in the sea and gave birth with my Selkie pod in attendance. She and the boy remained with us for two years. Angus visited often.”
“So, this whole thing was planned?” Raene cut in.
Aegir nodded and continued, “Arianrhod grew more and more worried. Her roles were incompatible. She couldna remain part of the Celtic pantheon as a virgin huntress and be a mother at the same time. Not the mother of a son conceived by normal means.”
“She should have lied.” Raene felt fiercely protective of the youngster she’d seen in Aegir’s mind.
“It wouldna have worked,” Krise said. “Her kin are gods and goddesses. They’d sniff out a lie, and they’d ken immediately who fathered the lad—once they got near enough to focus their attention on him.”
“Never believe it dinna tear Arianrhod in two to leave her boy behind,” Aegir said. “I was there. I saw her anguish. The simplest path for her would have been to not bear the child at all, yet she did.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Krise broke in. “She and Angus have information about the future. Perhaps Cathbad impacted their decision as well. Jonathan must have a crucial role to play, one momentous enough to convince her to birth him even though she understood she’d have no role in his upbringing.”
Raene clamped her jaws together and stopped talking. The abandoned child, who hadn’t truly been forsaken since his father had him, was none of her affair. Never mind he tugged at her heartstrings, reminding her of the children she’d never given up hoping for.
The crisis in Arcadia was far more pressing. They had the seeds of a plan, and they’d make it work. They had to. She was glad she lacked the history that was evidently weighing both Aegir and Krise down. They were certain the dragons wouldn’t help, but at least they were humoring her by taking the time to travel to this Fire Mountain place to ask.
Not that dragons were everything, but they sat close to the top of her list of powerful potential allies. Amazing, since until yesterday, she hadn’t truly believed they existed. But now that she knew, she had a hard time imagining any endeavor that had dragons on its side failing. Maybe she was engaging in wishful thinking. Maybe she’d journeyed so far out of her depth she was drowning in uncharted water.
None of it mattered. This wasn’t a time to get mired in doubt.
“We’ve probably tarried far too long,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.
“I’ll punch through the barrier,” Krise told them and led the way out of the cave.
Absent Aegir’s magic, the hearth would cool. The dishes wouldn’t do themselves, and leaving them went against her grain, but Aegir had been correct about them needing to hurry.
The storm that had sent the occasional blast of wind inside the cave had blown itself out. The sky was streaked with grays and silvers with a sliver of sunlight arrowing through them. The effect was surreal, ethereal. She took it as a good omen for them to depart in speckled sunlight rather than the midst of an ice storm.
She followed the men along the narrow path leading to the island’s highest point. By the time she arrived, a portal edged with pale blue flickered. Aegir gestured her through, following once she’d stepped across the liminal boundary separating Earth from Arcadia.
This time, she came out in a part of the magical land she hadn’t seen before. No convenient pile of clothing awaited, probably because she had no need for it. A castle rose before her, looking like it had medieval origins. Towers and turrets were scattered at intervals. The structure was built of rough-hewn logs and large stones with masonry between them. Its three floors were topped by a flat roof with parapets. The windows were on the smallish side, no doubt to help trap heat within.
She turned in a circle and saw a tall iron fence surrounding a cobblestoned courtyard. They’d come out within the castle grounds. Lush shrubbery, some festooned with flowers, lined the fence. A herd of ponies grazed off to one side. Outbuildings sprouted here and there.
Aegir touched her arm. “This way.” He moved briskly toward a broad set of stone steps leading to what appeared to be the castle’s primary entrance.
“What?” she teased. “No moat? No drawbridge?”
Aegir regarded her. “They’re on the far side of the wall. Ye doona want to fall into the moat. Things swim deep within its waters that haven’t darkened Earthen seas for many a long year.”
“No more jokes,” she agreed. “I’m nervous. It’s how I cope.”
He waited for her to catch up. Once she stood by his side, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and they started up the stairs. “This is the easy part,” he told her. “Finding a way inside Fire Mountain will be much more difficult. We need as much information as the Druids are willing to part with. I’m hopeful if we build a strong enough argument, the dragons willna turn us down.”
They walked through a generous central hall with rooms branching off on either side. Rush lights were placed at strategic intervals, and each room had a fireplace crackling merrily. Rich wall hangings depicted battle scenes and magical animals she’d read about but never seen. Unicorns. Griffons. The Minotaur. Birds with enormous wingspans and hungry-looking beaks.
“Everything is so beautiful,” she murmured.
“Aye, Druids are quite the art connoisseurs,” Aegir murmured back. “We’re nearly to their meeting hall.”
Double oaken doors at the far end of the corridor had been propped open. The hum of conversation rose and fell from within. Raene crossed beneath the lintel. A staunch blast of magic, probably containing something to dissuade those not pure of heart and spirit from entering, raked her from head to toe,.
A long trestle table filled part of the meeting hall. Made of scarred mahogany, it appeared to have been crafted long ago. Twenty Druids sat in chairs along its length, all looking the same direction. Krise perched in a chair facing the table and situated between it and the hearth. Two other chairs sat next to his. Aegir guided them around the table and to the waiting seats.
The chamber’s walls were wainscoting topped by whitewashed timbers. Unlike the rest of the castle, nothing adorned them. The floor was made of flagstones fitted tight against one another.
Raene sat, folded her hands together, and waited. She was the most unexceptional member here. She needed to remember that and speak only when spoken to. No blurting out opinions as she was wont to do. She remembered a few of the Druids from the battle with the Fae.
The Arch Druid rose from his spot in the center of the long table and bowed in their direction. His cowl had fallen aside, leaving his tonsured head bare. “Welcome and thank you for heeding our call so quickly.”
“Thank you for trusting us with such sensitive information,” Krise replied. Unlike the Druid, he remained seated. “We are, and shall always be, your allies.”
Another of the Druids rose and filled silver goblets with a clear liquid that smelled like wildflowers in springtime. He set one in front of her, Aegir, and Krise.
“Afore we begin,” the Arch Druid said, “I w
ould have your blood oaths. Naught that passes within these walls will leave this room.”
Raene looked at Krise and Aegir. Both were seated to her right. Aegir drew a small blade from within his jacket. “Ye have our word, but I have a question.”
The Druid furled his brows. “Aye, and what would it be?”
“How will we gather allies if we canna tell them of the evil we face?”
“Of course ye may gather allies, but I will impart how the current predicament came to be. That is what must remain secret.” He hesitated. “For it casts our brotherhood in an unfavorable light.”
Aegir pricked the end of a finger and let a drop of blood fall into his goblet. He passed the knife to Krise who did the same. When it was her turn, she watched the liquid in her tumbler turn from clear to blue when her blood joined with it.
Her vow to hold silent vanished, and she asked, “Do different types of magic wielders turn the drink other shades than blue?”
The Druid seated next to where the Arch Druid stood regarded her through narrowed eyes. “Ye’re the one who sought healing from Arcadia not that long ago.”
She nodded and mumbled, “Sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask questions, but it’s tough not to.”
“Ye have a keen mind,” the seated Druid said. “Indeed, the blood test is for us as much as it is for you. It tells us, for example, that ye’re truly a Selkie. Now if ye were a wolf Shifter, the drink would be red. Bird Shifters turn it amber, and so it goes.”
Aegir and Krise lifted their tumblers and drank, so she copied their actions. The concoction was mildly alcoholic with rich overtones of the magic that had created it. Her discomfort dropped away, replaced by a dreamlike sensation. The sense of wandering through magical realms, two steps removed from reality, intensified as the Arch Druid began to chant.
He clasped his hands behind him and strode through the room. Wherever he walked, silver and gold netting followed him, draping its folds around all in attendance.
“There,” he said at length. “We are ready.” He’d stopped pacing and resumed his seat in the middle of the long table.
“I will be as succinct as I can,” he went on, “for time grows short. Druids are Earth’s guardians. We were here when Earth formed, and we have protected her from evil for the span of her existence. In the beginning, ’twas far simpler. Men were a primitive lot, and animals have always been wise enough not to damage their home. Our only foe in those days was dark power.
“It has always existed in one form or another, but as long as we could focus our efforts in a single spectrum, we managed to hold the tide and keep Earth safe. All that changed in the last hundred years. Men have grown progressively more wicked and self-centered. They no longer care for aught beyond what will profit them. We’ve tried. Goddess knows, we’ve tried. Back when we still had temples and a following, we sat with men and women and explained the likely consequences of their actions. No one listened. They all assumed the resources they squandered were limitless and they could make more. But how can ye replace breathable air and clean water?”
Aegir growled low in his throat. “The oceans are warming and dying. It willna happen overnight, but the coral is fading. Once it’s naught but dried columns of porous bone, the rest of us sea dwellers will be in grave straits.”
The Arch Druid held up a hand for silence and continued, “Wicked creatures like Fae and Black Witches and demons dinna go away. We had to split our meager forces with some of us continuing the ongoing battle against encroaching darkness and others begging humans to rethink their actions.
“Clearly, we tried to do too much with too little, and we failed on both fronts. Badly. Ever enterprising, the Fae and demons recognized our weakness and attack when and wherever suits them. A trend that’s escalating beyond my worst fears.”
A long, rattling sigh escaped him. Raene’s heart hurt for what he’d suffered. Everything was interconnected. Her father’s swan dive into Hell might not have happened if demonkind had remained firmly behind Hell’s gates.
“And so,” the Druid to the Arch Druid’s right took up the tale, “here we are. The time of merely defending ourselves has come to an end. We must forge an effective offense, create a definitive victory that drives those who wield dark power back into their ratholes. It willna address the other problems, the ones created by human greed, but we could wipe enough humans to make a difference off the face of the planet with a thought.”
His statement gave Raene pause. Perhaps humans weren’t as essential as she’d always believed them to be.
“Where do ye envision this battle taking place?” Aegir asked.
“Aye,” Krise spoke up. “What makes ye think they’ll even show up?”
“The battle will be here,” the Arch Druid replied. “On Arcadia. The land suggested a strategy, and we believe it to be sound.”
Raene leaned forward, listening. The dreamy sense of unreality had departed, leaving her intensely aware just how high the stakes were.
“The land is sentient,” the Druid continued. “It will feign being far weaker than it is and will partially release the barriers keeping wickedness out. We are in agreement that Arcadia will present such a tempting target, a dark army will attack intent on claiming her rich magical well for themselves.”
Raene fought the hot bite of tears. Her throat thickened with fear—and awe. Arcadia was making the ultimate sacrifice in hopes it would be enough. Courage was doing the right thing, even if it damaged you. That the magical land had offered itself told her how desperate things had become…
She shook her head to dispel her bleak mood. The others were talking, and she’d missed some of what they said.
“If Hell’s spawn could divert Arcadia’s riches,” another Druid broke in, “they could establish themselves as masters of Earth and what remains of her bounty. They’d mow through the humans without a second thought.”
“We may end up doing the same”—the Arch Druid’s words were lined with weariness—“once we have demonkind on the run. Except we would take care not to kill them all.”
It was the second time he’d suggested humans were irrelevant. Raene struggled to keep her mouth shut, managing by the thinnest of margins. She’d lived as a human, was friends with many. Most weren’t greedy bastards stripping Earth of her resources. Maybe the Druids could start their carnage from the top down and leave everyone else alone.
“Raene?” Aegir elbowed her.
“Yes.” She looked about. “Did I miss something?”
“I was sharing our plan to go to Fire Mountain. I dinna think ye were paying close attention, but ye might wish to hear this.”
“I’ll begin again,” the Arch Druid said.
Raene winced and muttered, “Sorry.” She stopped before blurting that the combination of magic, worry, and the drink had done something odd to her mind.
“If ye can secure aid from the dragons, we would be forever in your debt,” the Druid went on. “Dragons are the oldest, most powerful magical beings on this world and others. ’Twill be difficult to convince them, though, since none of us carry dragon blood. Be sure to tell them that I, Brother Loran, will personally see to it that two Druids are permanently assigned to serve dragons, either in Fire Mountain or elsewhere. Forever.”
Aegir stood. So did Krise and Raene. He nodded. “We will convey your message. It is a generous offer in exchange for their assistance. Is there aught else we need to know?”
The Arch Druid shook his head. “Whatever ye do, be quick about it. If we’re forced into too many more conflagrations like the recent Fae battle, we shall be even weaker than we are now when the main event occurs.”
“I will gather my people from every pod I can,” Krise promised. “What about other Shifters and Witches?”
“We have already put out the call,” another Druid reassured him. “Today’s meeting with you was but the first of many. We shall be as prepared as possible.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I have news,
” Aegir said. He gripped Raene’s hand and strode from the room.
They left the castle and walked out into the opulent courtyard with its rich gardens. Krise called a portal; they stepped through. A small, cowardly part of Raene longed for her simple bakeshop, but she buried it deep. It would be a long time before she saw the village of Wick or her shop again. The hard truth was she might never return. Longing for the impossible was a waste of time and energy.
“Gentle seas, brisk wind, and plentiful fish,” Krise called as he ran for the beach where he’d presumably left his skin.
“Same to you, Da,” Aegir called after him. He turned to Raene. “Are ye ready for our journey to Fire Mountain?”
Not trusting what whiny excuse might slide past her resolve to be strong, she nodded and said, “No time like the present,” a shade too brightly.
Aegir repositioned himself so he stood in front of her. “Ye’d be a fool not to be frightened, lass. If we annoy the dragons, they’re more than capable of tossing us in one of Fire Mountain’s volcanic pits.”
“Well, let’s be as diplomatic as we can.” She managed half a smile and felt his power rise around them. Different from teleport magic, this spell would also draw them through time. At least she thought it would. According to fables, the dragons’ home existed in a spot untouched by the normal time-space continuum.
A silvery gateway formed. Aegir motioned her through into a tubular structure with pearlescent walls glowing like wet oyster shells. He joined her and sank to a crouch, patting the spot next to him. “Settle in, lass. This will take a while. Doona touch the walls and avoid negative emotions. The guardian who manages the time portals will eject any who disturb his peace.”
The gateway vanished, merging with the walls. She knelt next to Aegir, her thigh resting the length of his. The travel tube began to rock gently. “I thought the dragons’ home wasn’t linked to time.”
“It’s not. So we will travel to the very beginnings of everything afore we leave the tunnel.”
