The Iron Cursed

by J. M. Briggs

  Alex thought back to her uncomfortable meeting with Merlin. Just thinking about it inspired the same mixture of worry and embarrassment. “Yeah,” she said. “They do.”

  “And you’re the only known girl,” Nicki added. “Good: it’s a good thing you haven’t got the testosterone to complicate that.”

  Holding back a groan, Alex snorted and gave Nicki a dark look. The redhead just grinned and squeezed her hand again. They walked down the gravel driveway to Alex’s car. In the corner of her eye, Alex noted the others getting into their cars to leave. She knew she should say something, but exhaustion clung to her bones and a headache was forming behind her eyes. Too many things were going through her head.

  Alex unlocked her driver’s side door while Nicki called out to the others. She trusted Nicki to say their goodbyes; she’d need what energy she did have for getting her homework done. Alex was about to climb into the driver’s side when Nicki snatched the keys from her hand and firmly pointed to the passenger’s side. She blinked at her roommate for a moment as Lance’s truck pulled out of the drive, but then Alex obediently moved around the car. If Nicki wanted to drive them home, Alex was happy to let her.

  12

  Life After the Mound

  464 B.C.E. The Golden Vale, Ireland

  The sheep baaed softly as they moved slowly to graze. Above Leugio a bright blue sky with only a few scattered clouds put him at ease. The air was thick with the smell of earth and the musk of the sheep. A playful breeze brushed across his face and made the long grasses of the hillside sing. This was not a day to be concerned about the Sídhe. Yet Leugio always was now. He was always aware of them. The passing of autumn and winter had not changed that. Ever since he returned Keelia to the surface there was a strange awareness in his chest.

  Checking on the sheep, he quickly counted them, but all were present. There was nothing unusual on the horizon. The suspicion remained a nagging little voice at the back of his mind. It wouldn’t go away and he began to whistle to distract himself. Walking along the earthen wall that separated the pasture from the rest of the fields, Leugio kicked lightly at a tuft of grass. One of the sheep looked up at him but quickly lost interest. An odd worry had been following him all day, like he’d forgotten or misplaced something. His fingers toyed with the brooch on his tunic, feeling it warm beneath his skin.

  Nearby the song of birds echoed down from a tree. Leugio sighed to himself, shook his head and returned to watching the sheep. This was nothing more than lingering worries about the Sídhe, he told himself. Worrying would do him no good. Instead, he turned his focus back to the wood bow he was shaping into a new cruit. It wouldn’t be as fancy as his old one, but he could add decoration later.

  His eyes landed on the Sídhe mound, where a thick layer of green was growing over the artificial hillside. It was greening up along with the rest of the world as spring advanced. Even now there was no sign of the Sídhe. While the village had been fearful and braced for some act of vengeance, there had been nothing. Leugio wasn’t even sure how many of them he’d killed, and yet there had been no retribution. He didn’t understand it. Perhaps there was some sort of silent understanding that if you rescued a child you were left alone. Perhaps that odd Síd that had given him advice had kept the others from attacking. Maybe there weren’t enough of them now.

  A sheep looked up at him and baaed. Glaring back at it, Leugio grumbled to himself. He wondered how long it would take for this paranoia to fade. Plucking at the first of the strings, Leugio grimaced at the sour note. He shook his head and gently adjusted it as best he could, pulling it a little tighter in the small notch. When he tried again a slightly smoother note chimed in the air. He moved on to the next and repeated the process with each string. Glancing back towards the Sídhe hill, he vaguely wondered what the Sídhe were doing with his first cruit. The notion that they might be able to use some kind of magic on it worried him.

  This time he just sighed. Today it seemed wasn’t going to be a calm one for his thoughts. He played on the cruit for a while, routinely adjusting the tightness of the hairs. Slowly the sounds coming from the cruit smoothed out and he didn’t hate every other one. Staring again at the mound, Leugio felt that odd stirring in his chest.

  Leugio was always aware of it now. There was a flicker beneath his heart that he carried with him every day. Sometimes he closed his eyes and focused on the smell of the world around him. It would brighten like a low flame suddenly fed dry moss. Quiet moments were the easiest and when he was in the pasture with the sheep he was most aware of it. The problem was he still had no real idea of what to do with it.

  In the past seasons, he’d often thought about what had happened in the mound, but never… Leugio looked down at his hands. They looked the same as ever. Flexing his fingers, Leugio forced himself to take slow deep breaths. Rather than dimming the sensation, it was enhanced. There were no sparks, no sign of magic, but it was there. Just out of reach.

  Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was a mistake, but he could feel it there. Stronger today than it had been for more than a season. He had to try. Leugio closed his eyes and tried to think of something. He wasn’t being attacked and didn’t want to hurt the sheep. That wouldn’t be pleasant to explain. The magic hummed beneath his skin and Leugio settled on the idea of making a small light, like a torch.

  Something flared brightly enough for him to see it through his eyelids. Opening his eyes, he gasped and then grinned. There was a glowing white orb in his hand, floating just above the skin of his palm. Excitement crashed through his chest only to turn to nervousness a moment later. The orb shimmered and tiny sparks of white flew off of it. They vanished into the air like cooling embers into the night. Leugio was transfixed even as the flare in his chest began to thin. His arms were heavy and the orb slowly vanished.

  “Leugio!”

  He turned to see his mother coming up the path. Her long cloak was draped over her shoulders and wisps of brown hair hung in her face. He turned around on the earthen wall so he was facing her. It took her only a few more moments to reach him.

  “Some lunch,” his mother said. She smiled at him and held out a clay bowl and a wrapped package of jerky.

  “Uh, thank you.” He moved over and accepted the clay bowl with a slight frown. “I brought something with me mother.”

  “I just- I just wanted to make sure you were here and alright.”

  Freezing, Leugio almost lost his grip on the bowl. He recovered quickly and nodded in understanding. Smiling, he carefully set the items down on the wall and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

  “I’m fine Mother: nothing unusual has happened today. Please try not to worry.”

  The wrinkles around her eyes were more pronounced then they used to be, making her look older. Her hands came up and rested against his cheeks. They were shaking slightly, and Leugio just stayed still. Slowly, his mother recovered and smiled. Patting his cheek, she turned and began moving back towards the village. His mother’s discomfort was understandable. It would take time for the fear to fade. It would take time for him to stop dreaming of the mound tunnels.

  Keelia was safe. The Sídhe hadn’t left their mound for the past season and in the village, the whispers and stunned looks had mostly stopped. Keelia had spoken of his rescue and his magic, but no one knew what to make of it. He never knew what to say; what to do about all of it. How could he explain? Closing his eyes, he rolled his shoulders and eyed the sheep once again. There was still a hint of the magic against his skin and Leugio knew in his gut that he could call the orb forth again if he wished.

  He ate his lunch quickly and used the grass and some water to clean his hands. Rinsing out the bowl, he hummed softly along with the uneven baaing of the sheep. In the distance, he could just smell some cooking over the musk of the sheep and hear the sounds of village life. Leugio settled down against the wall with his pack against his hip.

  The day dragged on. Nothing happened in the pasture. He adjusted his cruit again for a whi
le. Then he turned his attention to sharpening his dagger. Leugio wished he’d brought some reeds to work on a basket. In truth, it probably wasn’t really necessary for him to be here.

  “What do you think?” Leugio asked the nearest sheep. It didn’t even have the decency to look at him. “At least the Sídhe doesn’t seem interested in wool or mutton: you should be grateful for that.”

  One of the other sheep baaed at him. He picked up his cruit and strummed the strings. Sweet sounds reverberated through the air around him. His fingers began to move on their own, finding the strings and relearning just where to pluck on the new instrument. Inside his chest, the little spark of magic hummed in tune. The sensation was strange, and yet oddly comforting.

  He reached up and rubbed his brooch. There was a spark against his fingers and Leugio gasped. Looking down at his hands, he found a faint white glow surrounding them. Then it flickered away. He studied his fingers. That had not been expected. First magic and now some odd reaction to iron. Leugio considered that thought carefully. The Sídhe were weak to iron and his magic had first appeared to fight them. Even now, his magic felt stronger than it did in the village thanks to the mound being closer. Maybe it was all connected.

  Leugio’s eyes shifted up, drawn towards the mound. A strange and terrible thought occurred to him. His mother had just checked on him and wasn’t likely to return anytime soon. Standing up, Leugio kept a tight hold of his cruit and glanced at the sheep one more time. They wouldn’t miss him. He picked up his pack and before he could change his mind, he started walking.

  The mound grew larger with each step. He knew that it really wasn’t that large, but the knowledge of what it was and it having loomed over his home his whole life made it seem that way. Somehow the memory of the tunnels lit by torches made it even more frightening. Knowing made it all so much worse. But he kept walking. The flutter in his chest and the hum beneath his skin was growing stronger.

  There was a Síd in the shadow of the mound entrance. It was playing a cruit and wore heavy gold bracelets glittering in the low light. The figure raised its face, revealing the pale features of its kind, and while they mostly looked the same to him, Leugio was sure that it was the one he’d spoken to when Keelia was taken. His eyes jumped to the cruit and he almost smiled. The wood had been polished a bit more and had a soft gleam to it, but it was definitely his carving work.

  “I see the cruit serves you well,” Leugio said in greeting. His voice was higher pitched than usual, but he didn’t stutter.

  “I see time has made you bolder,” the Síd replied. “But there has been no child brought here this day.”

  “Yes, I mean that isn’t why I’ve come.” Leugio paused and frantically tried to gather his thoughts. “I was actually hoping that you would be outside the mound.”

  “Ah, you were looking for me then.”

  “I never got your name when we last met,” Leugio said cautiously.

  “Nor I yours,” the Síd countered.

  Forcing a small smile, Leugio tried to stay relaxed. “I am Leugio.”

  “I am Iúdás.” He nodded to Leugio and lowered his violet eyes back to the cruit. “What brings you back to the mound then, Leugio?”

  “I am surprised that you still sit outside, Iúdás.” He tripped over the name a little, but the Síd merely smiled enigmatically.

  “Perhaps it is my responsibility,” Iúdás suggested. “Or perhaps I enjoy the smell of the sunlight, though it burns my eyes.”

  They were dancing around the real topic. Leugio knew it, but he didn’t trust himself. He didn’t know the right words to use or how to lure the Síd into giving information. Iúdás just kept playing the cruit and watching him. There was a sword strapped to his belt and Leugio used the chance to examine what Iúdás wore. It was loose and fine fabric; not armor like the others who came to the surface wore.

  “So what does bring you outside, Iúdás?” Leugio finally asked. His palms were sweaty and he gripped his new cruit tightly. “You carry a sword, but do not have armor like the others.”

  “I am not a raider,” Iúdás replied. “It is not my talent nor my desire to seek out conflict.”

  “Which is why you gave me directions rather than try to stop me.”

  “Indeed,” Iúdás agreed. “Though I shall confess that I did not expect you to come out. I could smell the magic trying to come forth, but did not think it would be enough to keep you alive.”

  “And yet you didn’t stop me when I did come out. Why?”

  “You had won back your sister,” Iúdás answered. “And I knew that meant you had used the magic. I have no interest in fighting a mage if I do not have to.” Iúdás’ eyes were lingering on his brooch. “There is little magic in the world right now, but what there is obeys you.”

  There was something in the words, something that sounded familiar. Perhaps from a dream, or maybe it just made sense. Swallowing, Leugio tried to find the words for the questions churning in his chest. The magic was humming beneath his skin so strongly that it was almost hot. He tore a hand off his cruit and touched his brooch. Iúdás followed the movement with his eyes.

  “What brings you back here, young mage?”

  “Mage,” Leugio repeated. “I wanted to know why I used magic in the tunnels. It is stronger now.”

  “It would,” Iúdás said.

  Silence filled the space between them. Iúdás watched him with sharp, violet eyes and Leugio tried to muster enough courage to ask his questions. Already he was worried that this was a mistake and eyed the tunnel entrance. There were more Sídhe down there, maybe just waiting for a moment to strike.

  “We don’t like the sunlight,” Iúdás said. “Our ancestors came from a much darker world. Your sunlight is too harsh for us. Even I remain in the shade of the entrance.” Iúdás plucked at another string and the smooth, sweet sound eased Leugio a tiny bit. “You have magic. It rises when your world is invaded by those from another. Or when someone with the potential for magic goes too close to elements from another world.” Iúdás gestured to the entrance. “You saw it down there: one of the only suits of armor from our world. It has been carefully protected and preserved.”

  “How did you come here?”

  “I know little of the process used by the ancients to enter your world,” Iúdás said slowly. “It was a strange form of magic. I believe that there must have been some kind of magic on the home world that they first used to travel to new worlds. When they reached yours, the Iron Realm fought back. Mages like you were born who reacted to their presence and gained powers.”

  “Oh.” Leugio had more questions, but it sank in that he was asking a being that was his enemy by his own explanation. He gripped his brooch again, and once more Iúdás watched the motion. “Thank you for the explanation.”

  “I have no craving for war, Leugio,” Iúdás said. “I will council the others to be more peaceful in the future. Though I have no power over other colonies, so do not hold their actions against me and mine.”

  Somehow the words were both pleading and an order at the same time. Nodding, Leugio stepped back. The sunlight warmed his skin and he focused on the feeling of the magic just beneath his skin. On impulse, he flexed his fingers and envisioned another orb of light. White sparks flowed out of his hand and swirled together to form the small sphere just above his palm. Iúdás made a small sound and squinted his eyes.

  “Uh, thank you, Iúdás.” Leugio dropped his hand and let the magic flicker away. “For the information.”

  Backing away, Leugio minded his footing and didn’t turn all the way around until he was a good thirty feet from the mound. There was a nervous tension in his chest, and even more questions in his head. Something about Iúdás’ words about having no power over the other mounds set him on edge. Maybe there were more raids than they’d heard about. Was he supposed to seek out violent Sídhe and stop them? Was that what being a mage meant?

  He hurried back towards the pasture. The sun had moved a good distan
ce and the worried cries his mother would make if he vanished again danced through his mind. One hand went up to rub his brooch once more, but this time he was aware of the action. It was warm and reassuring. A wider figure was pacing alongside the pasture. Remembering the last time Galvyn had come seeking him at the pasture, Leugio sped up his pace.

  “Galvyn!” he called when he was close. His friend spun to face him. “What brings you here?”

  “Where were you?!” Galvyn demanded. “I was about to go back to the village and alert your mother!” His friend’s eyes widened. “The Sídhe didn’t take you, did they?” Galvyn almost tripped dashing closer to him.

  “No,” Leugio promised. “Nothing like that.” He almost said that he’d gone to the mound, but stopped himself. “No, I just needed to stretch my legs.”

  “Needed to stretch your legs,” Galvyn repeated slowly. He gave Leugio a doubtful look but shook his head. “As you say.”

  “Why did you come looking for me anyway?” Leugio asked. “Is Keelia alright?”