He straightens and eyes me up. “Are ye always this anxious? In my days, people were content to sit and chat with old friends and new ones. It seems ye might learn a few things from the old ways.”
My stomach lets out a tortured roar and I slap a hand against my belly. “Sorry. It’s been a day.” I shake out my hands and tilt my neck back and forth. The pop-pop of my vertebrae cracking lets off some of the tension I’m carrying.
I draw a deep breath and try to sink into the moment. I’m sitting at the fire with an ancestor from over thirteen hundred years ago. “I apologize. And to answer your question, no, I haven’t always been this anxious. A lot has happened over the past three months.”
He grips the pan’s handle and adjusts the fish in the fire. “Yer druid blood awoke when yer mark flared.”
“You know about that?”
He chuckles. “I know everything about it, my fair Fiona. That’s why yer here.”
I straighten as my pulse kicks into high gear. He knows everything. Oh, thank you, baby Groot. “Tell me,” I demand a little more aggressively than I meant to. “Tell me everything.”
“Well, the tale begins at the turn of the seventh century. My sire was Cumhaill mac Trenmhoir, of the tribe of Ui Thairsig. My mother was a beautiful maiden by the name Muirne Muinchaem. She was the granddaughter of the high king and his wife, a deity of the Tuatha De Danann.”
Seriously? “We have the blood of the Tuatha De Danann running in our veins?”
“That is correct.”
“What are we talking about? Greater fae? Leprechaun? Dragons?”
“Mother told me Gran was a goddess of the fair ones.”
I scratch my forehead, still not a hundy percent sure I’m not lying knocked out with my brother kneeling over me.
Fionn pauses, and I get the feeling he senses my mental spin. “Mother possessed a strong will and unshakable passion. To her parents’ horror, she fell in love without consent. Cumhaill asked for her hand but was devastated when denied.”
“You’re here, and I’m here, so I guess it worked out in the end, eh?”
“In a fashion.” He pulls the pan from the fire and sets it on a rock to cool. “Deciding they were destined, he kidnapped her, and they lived happily for a short time. Until her sire petitioned the high king, had Cumhaill outlawed, then killed.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
Fionn bows his head. “When her sire took Mother home, he found her to be with child and ordered her burned alive.”
“Oh! This guy was a piece of work.”
“The high king wouldn’t allow it. He said revenge was served with my father’s life taken. He could not have the life of his daughter and by extension, me. Mother was placed into the custody of Cumhaill’s sister, Bodhmall. My auntie was the youngest of six with five brothers before her, like you. She was a great and practiced druidess, and that is where I learned my skills.”
He uses his dagger to cut the cooked fish and places half on a broad, waxy leaf, then reaches forward and passes me my share. “I lived as the bastard child of an outlaw for a great many years, but in the end, I was given a chance to prove myself. You see, there was a fire-breathing man of the Tuatha De, who wreaked destruction on the lands each year during the Samhain festival. No one wanted to face the beast, so I volunteered.”
I pull at the fish on my leaf with my fingers and pop it into my mouth. It’s salmon, and it’s hot and oily, but also very good.
“At the time, I was a young servant of the king, and few thought I could succeed. The high king, however, wanted the destruction ended. He awarded me an enchanted spear named Birga.”
“Did you win?”
He chews his fish and dips his chin. “When I defeated the fire-breathing foe, the king recognized my heritage and gave me command of the Fianna. Once I grew to be feared and respected, I returned to my maternal grandsire and demanded compensation. I was awarded the estate of Almu, the present-day Hill of Allen, in County Kildare.”
“I’ve only been to Ireland once, so I’m afraid I don’t know much of the landscape. Is Kildare near Kerry?”
“Kildare is a slogging, ten-day ride from Kerry on a good steed. I ask that ye rally yer brothers and set off to my land. The site has been raped and quarried to great depths and breadth. The destruction guts the hill but has not yet impacted the underground fortress of the Fianna. Go there, Fiona. Take yer brothers and claim yer heritage.”
The mere thought of the fortress of the Fianna has images popping into my head unbidden. I picture the layout of the caves, the coordinates of the entrance, and where the weapons keep lies within.
“How is this happening?” I ask as the bombardment continues. “How do I know all these facts about your fortress?”
He smiles and holds up his last bite of salmon. Licking the oil off his fingers, he swallows it down. “If ye ever find yerself at a loss fer answers, go fishin’ in the River Slate. It flows through Ballyteague and is home to a fish of knowledge that only a druid can catch. There’s a secret to catchin’ the Salmon of Wisdom, though, and I never whispered it to another soul. Always cast yer line from the Ballyteague side of the river. Once ye eat of its meat, the answers ye seek will come to you.”
I can’t believe all the information flooding into my mind. It’s like I’m a living Google search of the Fianna and the life of Fionn and his descendants. “How long does it last?”
“As long as it takes to pass through yer system. Yer best to write things down that come to ye because once it’s gone, ye won’t remember it fer the life of tryin’.”
“Thank you.” I reach down to my feet and wipe my fingers on the grass. “Will I see you again?”
“If the Fae Powers smile upon us, perhaps. In the meantime, if ye save my treasures from ruin or discovery, I’ll be in yer debt. They are more than our things—they are our brothers, and we owe them a debt of loyalty. Prove to me that yer every bit the woman yer auntie Bodhmall was, Fiona. Take the gifts I awoke in ye and do great things in the name of the Fianna.”
“I’ll try my best.”
I blink, and I’m lying on my back with Calum’s panicked face hovering over me and the moonlit night sky playing the backdrop of my view. “I’m okay.” I grip his elbow as he pulls me up. “You’ll never believe what happened.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I sit at the kitchen table, writing down as much information as I can sort through. It quickly becomes apparent that the magic fish wisdom isn’t all-powerful. It doesn’t tell me who is the power man behind Barghest or who the next winners of the Superbowl will be. It’s specific to the topic Fionn gave me for my quest.
The Fianna fortress.
Calum and I pick up Kevin on the way home, and he helps me draw the floor plan of the underground fortress and where to find the entrance.
I write down the spells I need to trigger the hill to open and disengage the booby-traps set inside.
“Fi,” Da pushes a plate of heated-up food toward me. “Take ten minutes and eat. Yer looking awfully pale. Ye can’t keep pushin’ yerself without refuelin’ the tank.”
I take a scoop of chicken fried rice and chew as I keep writing.
Emmet comes in and frowns. “You’re still at it?”
Calum snaps a fortune cookie in two. “Yep. I feel like we’re stuck in a scene from Rain Man.”
“Three minutes to Wapner.”
“Wednesday is fish sticks. Green lime Jell-O for dessert.”
“Eighty-two. Eighty-two. Eighty-two.”
I take another stab at my dinner and give them a middle-finger salute. “You two are hilarious.”
My brothers yuck it up.
I look at the spells spilling onto the page, the list of herbs for the potions needed, and the instructions to find the hidden keep. “Okay, I might be channeling a little Rain Man.”
Aiden came over after he tucked the kids in bed. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter having a plate of food. “Can we rewind a bit? Cou
ld one of the Nine Families be behind the stones and the sacrifice?”
Da shrugs. “Anything is possible, but I can’t imagine it.”
“The Nine Families are made up of a bunch of purists. I can’t see any of them venturing this far from Ireland.”
“Hot off the presses.” Dillan jogs down the stairs like a stampeding elephant. He brings in a stack of eight-by-ten glossies and spreads them on the other end of the table. “Take a gander at these beauties.”
“What the hell?” Kevin stares at a picture of the blood-stained altar stone. “Where were you two tonight?”
We all glare at Dillan who realizes too late he’s muddied the waters for Calum. “Sorry. Crime scene stuff. I’ll take these in the living room.”
He starts to gather them, and Calum backhands him in the arm. “He’s seen them now, you dolt. You might as well leave them where they are.”
“What’s going on?” Kevin leans back in his chair. “Calum’s been weird for weeks, Fi’s on some kind of Tomb Raider high, and now you’ve got pictures of bloody Stonehenge and a car that looks like the Hulk crumpled it like a tinfoil ball. Will someone let me in on the secret?”
Calum flashes Da a pleading look but gets a head shake in return. “I’m sorry, son. It’s police business. Yer gonna have to trust us. The less you know, the safer ye are. There’s trouble brewin’, and we don’t want ye caught up in it, do we Calum?”
Calum stares at the pictures and bites his lip for a long while before he lifts his gaze. “No. Of course not. I shouldn’t have dragged you in this far, Kev. I’m sorry.”
Something heated passes between the two of them, and a moment later, Kevin rises, rips the pages we were working on out of his book, and takes his leave.
Calum curses and follows him out.
“Why can’t he know, Da?” Emmet pushes. “Liam and Auntie Shannon know.”
“Let’s see where we are once we get a handle on the Barghest and we’ll revisit. We don’t know enough about any of it yet. Study these shots and see what we’re missing.”
I’m lying awake on my bed when I hear Calum creep upstairs shortly after two. “Hey,” I call when he passes my door. “You get things sorted with Kevin?”
“He’s mad. He thinks I’m lying and keeping things about my life from him.”
“He’s a perceptive guy.”
“Yeah. Lucky me.”
I roll onto my side and prop my head on my hand. “There’s nothing that says you can’t tell him and brave Da’s annoyance. You’re a grown man.”
“I get that, but it’s not only my story to tell. If the others want it kept quiet and aren’t telling the people in their lives, why should I get to break the silence?”
I flop back down onto my pillow. “Well, if it comes down to the wire, you have my consent to tell him whatever you want.”
“Thanks, Fi. Get some sleep.”
“Night.” I track the sound of his shuffling feet down the hall and sigh. “We need to figure this out and clean it up so we can get back to normal around here.”
Bruin lets out a throaty noise, which I assume is a laugh. And what does normal look like around here?
“Yeah, well, there’s that. Good point. Night, Bruin.”
“Good night, Red.”
By eleven the next morning, I’ve gotten everyone off to work except Emmet who’s on afternoons this week. The two of us water the trees and gardens in the back, feed the koi and work on a couple of low-level spells. I read over my notes from last night’s brain-dump and can’t believe it all came from me.
“Fionn was right.” I wipe down the kitchen table while Emmet unloads the dishwasher. “Once the salmon was digested, the power of knowledge was gone.”
“The next time you’re in Ireland, you’ll have to plan a fishing trip. Can you freeze magic fish for when you need it?”
I snort. “No idea. He wanted us all to go. He was specific about us going to reclaim the treasures of the Fianna before they’re discovered or destroyed.”
“What kind of treasure do you think we’re talking? Like, pot-o-gold treasure or gems or what?”
“The Fianna were warriors but also considered outlaws—the Robin Hood and Merry Men of the seventh century. I think maybe relics and ancient objects. He mentioned his enchanted spear named Birga.”
Emmet closes the cupboard and frowns. “What are the odds that all five of us put in for vacation days and can go? I’m the new guy on the block. I don’t get much say on my schedule yet.”
I rinse the dishcloth and hang it over the dividing wall of the sink to dry. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we fly over when you’re off rotation and Sloan portals you back. It would save on travel time.”
“Did he or Granda respond to the photos you sent them?”
I check the time on my Fitbit. “It’s four o’clock there. Let’s see if we can talk to them before they sit down to dinner.” I take out my phone and send a text. A moment later, I get the ping of response. “Zoom call.”
Emmet snorts. “They go from a party line to a cell phone to Zoom? The grands are on fire!”
The two of us are jogging up the stairs laughing when I hear the prompt to connect. I sit down in my desk chair and join the meeting room. “Hey, Granda, good to see you.”
Emmet sits on the end of my bed, and I shift so he’s in the frame. “Hello, Granda. I’m Emmet.”
“It’s good to put a face to the name, son. Howeyah.”
While the two of them have a quick chat, I search the background of his office. “Is Sloan with you?”
“He’s not. Why? Do ye need him?”
“No, I just thought… You know…”
“Know what?”
“Well, you’re Zooming on your laptop. I thought he might be there helping you.”
“What, ye think me a Luddite? With our electricity restored and my energy stabilized, I’m as modern as the next.”
I snort. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
“Fiona met Fionn mac Cumhaill last night.” Emmet steals my thunder. “He transported her through the Druid’s Altar to have an airneal in ancient Ireland.”
I throw him the stink eye. “Blurt much?”
He scrunches his nose in a funny face. “Sorry. I got excited. Go on. You tell him.”
I fill Granda in on what happened and what Fionn told me about the mining of the estate of Almu, and how the present-day owners of the Hill of Allen are about to destroy the fortress of the Fianna.
“He needs us to reclaim the treasures.”
Granda’s face pinches in that scowl he makes when I’ve become too much for his head. “Mo chroi, yer the only one who could tell me such a tale and have me believe it. It’s like the god of chaos himself kisses ye daily.”
“Right?” Emmet agrees. “We noticed that, too. She’s always been more trouble than she’s worth.”
I roll my eyes at both of them. “Anyway, you can expect an influx of Clan Cumhaill as soon as we can arrange it.”
“Och, my heart.” Gran comes into view. “Tell me yer not coddin’ us. All of ye? We’ll all be together?”
“That’s the plan, Gran.” Emmet waves. “And I, for one, am stoked. Can’t wait to meet you both in person. Fi has only the nicest things to say about her time there.”
Gran fills to bursting with a look of pride.
Such a charmer, my Emmet.
“I’ll get to work right away figurin’ where to put ye all.”
“Don’t panic, Gran. The boys are fine on the floor with a foam pad beneath them. Seriously, don’t put yourself out.”
My plea falls on deaf ears as I knew it would.
“Och, settle yerself Lara. If they don’t come fer months ye’ll be in quite a state by then. It’ll be grand, ye’ll see.”
“It will,” I say. “Granda, can we get back to the inscriptions? Were you and Sloan able to decipher what they say?”
“We think so. What they say versus what they mean is the worry. The wording is simple
enough. The one on the left reads, ‘While these stones bask in sun, trees will grow, and water will run.’”
“Oh, okay, that’s not bad. And the one on the right?”
“It says, ‘Marked by the past, ordained the exalter, magic released by death on the altar.’”
Emmet’s smile turns to a scowl as he pulls out his phone. “Exalter means one who is raised in rank, power, or character. Shit, Fi, I don’t like the sound of that death on the altar part.”
I see the worry in my grandparent’s expressions and swallow the burn of bile rising in the back of my throat. Marked by the past—check. Ordained the exalter—check.
“Yeah, I’m not too keen on that part either. That sucks.”
I excuse myself for a moment and splash cold water on my face. Staring at myself in the mirror, I go over the words again. Maybe there is more than one interpretation of one of the symbols. That happens, right?
In the eighth grade, I went on a school trip to the Royal Ontario Museum when they featured Egyptian tablets. I remember our guide saying that often Egyptian symbols have more than one meaning. The ankh was the symbol for life, but it also meant heaven, male and female, the morning sun and the earth.
“Maybe the same can be said for ancient druid symbols. Maybe I’m not prophesized to be gutted on the altar to be drained of my powers.”
I pat my face dry and draw a steadying breath. That has to be it. Granda and Sloan goofed on the translation and missed a secondary meaning of one or more symbols. Druid magic is pure, nature power.
Blood magic is black magic. Not the same at all.
Convinced I can table the panic for the time being, I go back to ask Granda to check out other possible meanings.
Emmet is in his glory talking to Gran about coming to visit, so I leave them and go down to the kitchen to pull out the leftovers from last night’s Chinese food.
“You hungry, Bear?”
“No. Could do with a drink, though. Is it dry in here? My throat is scratchy.”
I laugh. “No. It’s not dry in here, and I told you that we don’t drink in this house until noon or after. And until Da’s feeling more himself, we’ll be cutting back after noon too.”
A Gilded Cage (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 1) Page 25
