Misfortune of Song: Druid's Brooch Series: #5

by Christy Nicholas

  He chuckled. He should have known she’d react thus. She’d never have his level of dignity, but at least she’d developed a healthy dose of wariness and skepticism. He reached into the pouch and pulled out the white silk-wrapped bundle.

  The silk glowed slightly in the dim cavern, shining with its own light. Orlagh gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

  Slowly, he unwrapped the bundle, folding back each layer of silk. Eventually, he revealed his prize. An exquisite penannular brooch, silver etched with intricate gold designs. The animal forms entwined into beautiful knotwork, punctuated with six silver-white faceted stones. The jewelry made both Temuirr’s and Utromma’s look like pale copies, poor reproductions of a kingly prize.

  He cupped the precious object in his hands while he spoke in hushed tones. “This brooch has been passed down in our family for countless generations, Orlagh. This artifact is a sacred object, something which represents not only our origins, but the status of our family among the oldest families in Hibernia. The gift is invaluable, and must be guarded against all dangers.”

  Orlagh reached out. “The brooch is exquisite. May I touch it?”

  He flinched. “Not yet, my child. Not yet. I must first explain.”

  She frowned. “Explain what?”

  “The magic of the brooch.”

  Orlagh narrowed her eyes, and he continued. “The brooch is reputed to be a gift from the Fae to our family. The details of the story are lost in time. One of our ancestors saved a Fae creature or a druid—stories differ—from destruction. In thanks, he gifted us with this artifact. The brooch holds the power to grant each person a magical talent of some sort. This is where I get my talent to hide from sight.”

  She looked up, frowning. “I figured that was just your excellent woodcraft?”

  He chuckled. “Well, yes, I have my skill, but my skill was aided by the brooch. The magic really can bend the light around me, to make me invisible. Not inaudible or untouchable, but no one can perceive me.”

  She crossed her arms. “Show me.”

  He pulled on the magic and drew the invisible shield around him. By Orlagh’s gasp, he knew the magic worked. He let the power fade.

  She opened her mouth several times and closed it again before she spoke. “Would I be invisible if I touched it?”

  He caressed the brooch, suddenly loath to gift the precious object. He’d had the jewelry so many winters. His own grandmother had given the magic to him when he was a young man. This brooch was the only thing he still had of hers. He could still remember that cold midwinter day, the black dolmen looming above them. “No, Orlagh. Each talent is different. You might be able to talk to animals or heal the sick. Perhaps you will make objects move with your mind or command the cats. I can’t know. You won’t know until I gift the brooch to you with the proper ritual.”

  She swallowed and placed a hand on her belly. “Ritual? What sort of ritual?”

  He grimaced, caressing the brooch once again. “I’m afraid to say, a distinctly pagan ritual.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. “A pagan ritual. A magic brooch. After all your rage at my pagan wedding, you offer me a piece of Fae jewelry in a pagan ritual? Grandfa, you know what you are? You’re a cursed hypocrite!”

  Maelan bowed his head. He had no answer to her accusation. Her accusation was demonstrably true. However, the fact remained he had a duty to this family legacy, and he needed to complete the cycle.

  He got up and carefully wrapped the brooch in its silk. He placed the silk bundle into his pouch and tied the pouch to his belt. Then he picked up the large bowl and worked once again on the snow tunnel.

  “That’s all? What about this ritual?”

  “I need to get us out before we can complete the ritual, Orlagh. The gift needs to be given at a sacred place. A stone circle, if we can find one. One of the ancient tombs will do in a pinch.”

  She crossed her arms. “In a pinch. Well, that could certainly describe our current situation–in a pinch.”

  He ignored her and kept digging.

  By the next day, Maelan had finally dug enough to see daylight. At least, the sullen gray sky which passed for daylight during a Hibernian winter. Bone tired, Maelan was thrilled to have broken through. He was also hungry. The half loaf of bread and a small pouch of dried fish were all the rats had left, and he gave all the food to Orlagh. She needed to eat for the babe, far more than he did. He had survived days without food on campaign, and he would do so again. For now, he had a different mission.

  Once he’d rested from his tunneling, they prepared for a journey. He took his spear, of course, and instructed Orlagh to bring her snares.

  “We won’t find much game in this snow, but Eógan crafts effective snares. Some rabbits might still be out and about. My spear might get lucky, but snares are more reliable in the winter.”

  She nodded and packed the three snares. She took a waterskin and filled it with fresh water before they set out.

  He set a slow pace out of respect for her advanced state. What had possessed him to do this now? Still, a silent voice within urged him to take care of the transfer quickly. He didn’t question that urge. Perhaps his own instincts told him he wouldn’t survive much longer, and he couldn’t ignore the possibility. He must do whatever it took.

  An ancient tomb lay close by. The stones formed a low, small place. This wasn’t the same tomb he’d entered moons before with the two Fae creatures. They wouldn’t be going into this one. They could simply use the sacred space for the ritual and leave before anyone was the wiser. The stones really weren’t so far from where he’d received the brooch from his grandmother.

  The ancient wedge tomb was only a couple of leagues south of the caves, a simple place with slender slate sides and a thin, flat top, perfectly balanced. However, the snow buried most of the distinguishing features of the landscape. The only reason he knew they were at the right place was the tall, spindly hawthorn tree which marked the corner of the tomb.

  Maelan dug around the edge of where he believed the tomb was, but it took three times before he successfully found the stone slabs. Orlagh stood and waited, stamping her feet to keep warm while Maelan worked.

  When he’d cleared the stones free of snow, they stood stark and black against the blanket of amorphous white. Maelan gestured Orlagh to join him as he kneeled before the entrance to the tomb.

  After putting down his fur cloak, he helped Orlagh to the frozen ground. Slowly she sat, sticking her feet out in front of her in an awkward pose. He pulled the silk-wrapped brooch out and held the jewelry for several long moments, closing his eyes and concentrating on the magic itself. The warmth pulled up through the stones and the earth into his bones. Once the warmth had radiated out to his fingers and the top of his head, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he opened his eyes, glancing at Orlagh.

  She scrutinized his every move.

  Unwrapping the brooch, he held the artifact in front of him with both hands, as if in offering to the tomb. It glowed brightly, a beacon in the dim, gray winter day. Orlagh’s gasp proved she noticed the light as well. He hid a grin at her reaction.

  Making a silent wish this would heal the rift between them, he turned to his beloved granddaughter. “Now you may touch the brooch, Orlagh. Take the gift and make the magic your own.”

  With a nervous glance at him, she tentatively reached out with one finger and touched one of the stones.

  The light flashed with blinding brightness and lit the countryside. A massive crash sounded, and Orlagh fell backward from the impact of the sound and shine. Worried, Maelan touched her wrist, but her pulse still beat strongly. He rolled his bag and tucked the makeshift pillow under her head.

  Maelan waited patiently, remembering his own initiation into the brooch. He’d fallen backward, almost cracking his skull on a standing stone. His grandmother had laughed at his clumsiness. He vowed not to laugh at Orlagh. Their rapport was much too fragile to risk such a gaffe.

  A s
ound attracted his notice, and he scanned the landscape quickly, but nothing showed against the snow. She moaned and moved her head. She neared consciousness.

  “Ohh…” Orlagh put her hand on her forehead but didn’t open her eyes.

  “I do recall the pain packs a rather strong hit the first time. Never fear, the magic gets easier the next time.”

  She cracked her eyes open, suspicious. “Next time? I have to do that again?”

  He allowed himself a rueful chuckle. “As I said, it isn’t nearly so painful after the first time. You should be fine.”

  Another noise caught his attention, and he put his fingers to his lips as he slowly stood, spear in hand. A bird flew across his line of sight, but nothing else.

  He turned back to Orlagh and put a hand out to help her up. “You are now the holder of the brooch.”

  She shrugged and examined the jewelry. “What does that mean, exactly? And why are the stones pink now?”

  “That depends on you. Whatever magical gift the brooch has bestowed, you will learn in time. I experimented nearly a moon before I discovered I could hide from sight. You’ll just have to try different things. The stones change each time the holder does.”

  Instead of answering, she put her hand on her belly and winced. Perhaps his timing in giving this gift hadn’t been particularly wise. Still, he’d needed to go out and get food anyhow, and he wouldn’t have left her alone in the cave in this state. He gathered his belongings and took her hand. “We should get back to the cave. We’ll check the snares on the way in.”

  Without warning, a figure stood in front of Maelan, pointed teeth grinning in a rictus of malicious joy. The Fae creature, Ammatán, was close enough for Maelan to punch, which was his first reaction to the threat. He threw his fist at the Fae’s face, while at the same time shoving Orlagh behind him to shield her from the threat.

  Ammatán laughed a frantic sound which ricocheted across the valley, the sound bouncing and growing as it traveled.

  “You’ve used the brooch, I see. The magic smells delicious! Do let us touch it, human. I crave to taste its power.”

  Glimpsing the other Fae, Maelan backed slowly, keeping Orlagh behind him. “You do not have our permission to come anywhere near our brooch, Fae. Leave us, now! You are not wanted here.”

  Ammatán’s face fell in mock despair. “I am not wanted? What a cruel thing to say! Don’t you think him cruel, Flidaisínn? The human doesn’t want us.”

  Maelan gripped his spear, knowing full well if the Fae decided to take the brooch, he had no way to stop it. In a fierce whisper, he told Orlagh, “Hold the brooch tight! If you have anything iron, make certain it’s touching the brooch.”

  He felt rather than heard her fumbling behind him. Flidaisínn circled around to his left. With his gaze flicking between the two Fae, he backed up until both he and Orlagh were up against the wedge tomb.

  They were trapped.

  His spear tip was iron. He could use that to stop one of them. However, that would leave Orlagh to fend for herself, for he surely wouldn’t survive such an encounter. He must live for her sake. He must make the right decision this time.

  Step by step, the white Fae came closer. His hand almost brushed Maelan’s hair, a gentle not-quite-caress as he cocked his head and deepened his bloody smile. If the creature had breath, Maelan would have felt its heat. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that help would come before the Fae attacked.

  “Foolish human. You thought to thwart me, to keep the brooch to yourself. But I smelled it, across the land, across the gate, across the realms. The magic called to me, it wants to come back. The brooch does not belong to your kind, human. I am disgusted that your ilk has held it for so long. The brooch is of our world, our magic, and our people. You must surrender the magic.”

  Maelan tried to remember all the tales of bargains with the Fae. He would get the short end of the deal if he didn’t think quickly. Flidaisínn walked around them in a circle, a puzzled expression on her fair blue face.

  Orlagh spoke up. “We will not. You cannot force it from us. You must give something of equal value, and we must accept the bargain.”

  The Fae girl smiled at Orlagh’s words, but the effect on Ammatán was much different. He screamed, tearing at the stone itself with his clawed hands. The rock ripped and bled, bright red blood streaming from the rents in the surface. The Fae’s scream tore across Maelan’s nerves, leaving them raw and jangling.

  As the echoes of the supernatural scream died across the snow, Flidaisínn ran to Maelan, put her hand on her lips and whispered, “Be ready!”

  She disappeared. The valley fell silent for several dead moments before Ammatán screamed once more. He tore at the stone again, and Maelan had to cover his ears against the cacophony. Screams of long-dead warriors echoed within his head, screams he’d kept long-buried. Screams of the lost souls he had murdered.

  When his raving faded, the white-skinned Fae approached Maelan again, who had shuffled off to one side in the interim. Slowly, the creature came closer. Maelan continued to shield Orlagh, spear in hand. He might be able to run, but how would he escape a creature who appeared and disappeared at will? And Orlagh would never be able to run any distance in her condition.

  Suddenly, Flidaisínn reappeared in front of Ammatán and screamed into his face. He clawed her across the chest, and she ripped at his eyes.

  Maelan took this as his cue, grabbed Orlagh’s hand, and ran as best they could.

  The noises which came from the two battling Fae didn’t fade quickly, no matter how far he traveled. Unearthly clamor echoed through the countryside as they hurried across the few miles to the relative safety of their cave. The cave had several iron objects which would help in keeping them safe. All they had to do was get there.

  A horrible screech ripped across the land, like the screams of a thousand women being killed at once. It wrenched at Maelan’s heart. It was Flidaisínn who screamed, not Ammatán. The Fae girl had sacrificed herself, perhaps her own existence, to aid their escape. He choked back the tears at her act of martyrdom. He only hoped it wasn’t in vain.

  There, he saw it! The cave was just on the hill. He pulled Orlagh along, but she stumbled and fell on some stones. With a curse, he tried to pick her up, but she was too heavy with child. The trees shook, and the snow fell from their branches, and Ammatán stood before them once again.

  Maelan cursed his own ineptitude and carefully placed her again on her feet. At least she might rest while he dealt with the Fae. Perhaps she was now close enough he might fight the creature while she escaped to the cave. He would just have to trust Eógan or Utromma would return soon from their re-supply mission.

  Suddenly, the Fae was gone, and Orlagh screamed behind him. He whirled around, and the foul creature had her, his bloodstained clawed fingers pressed up against her pale throat. She breathed heavily, her eyes wide with terror.

  Maelan held the spear tip an inch from the Fae’s nose. “You will release her now. You cannot take her.”

  He laughed, drawing one sharp claw across the edge of her chin. Her jaw muscles tensed as a thin welt of blood showed. “Ah, but she has something of ours. She must give it up.”

  “She does not. I gave her the brooch. My grandmother gave me the brooch. Her mother gave her the brooch. It is not yours and never will be.”

  “Do you truly believe rightful ownership matters to me, human? You creatures are so fond of your tales, have you never heard of a Fae who disobeyed the rules? If I obeyed all the rules, I would never touch your precious spawn now, would I? Now, be a good pet and remove the iron.”

  Maelan’s blood ran cold. If this Fae had gone mad somehow, or at least, madder than Fae usually were, could he break the rules? Maelan had no idea, but he daren’t risk his granddaughter’s life on a gamble. He lowered his spear.

  Ammatán snapped his head to the right, and his black eyes grew wide. A giant gray wolf leapt out of the trees and landed on the Fae’s back. Orlagh cried out as s
he fell backward, but she managed to keep from falling and ran to Maelan, burying her face in his chest. He held her tight, the spear still held across them for protection.

  The wolf and the Fae tumbled in a flurry of confused brawling. More unearthly howls echoed on the stony ground, punctuated by scrabbling claws. Blood stained the ground, but he had no way of telling whose it was. He couldn’t wait to find out, despite his undying gratitude for the intervention.

  “Come, we must get to the cave, Orlagh!”

  He pulled, but she was reluctant to go. “It’s Eolande’s grandfather! We can’t just leave him!”

  He shook his head. “Either this Fae can handle himself and doesn’t need our help, or he can’t, and we’ll be in danger again when he dies. We can’t let another die in vain. Come, now!”

  She held tight to her belly and hurried away with him. They slipped several times on half-melted snow, but eventually gained their snow tunnel and the cave itself.

  Eolande and Tawnith waited for them inside a large circle of dead rowan branches.

  She’d built up the fire and had a savory stew bubbling in the pot. The raven picked through some fabric scraps, perhaps building a nest for himself.

  Maelan didn’t know how she’d found them, why she’d appeared, or where she’d gotten food. He didn’t ask any questions. He hurried through the cave, searching for anything iron he might lay his hands on. A cooking pot, several arrow heads, a broken spearhead, three rusty nails, an S-hook, and a bit of chain. He shoved them all in Orlagh’s lap just as she doubled over with a low moan.

  “Orlagh? Orlagh, oh please say it’s not time!”

  Her face grimaced in pain, and she let out a high-pitched wail.

  “Oh, pissmires and spiders. Eolande, what do you know about healing? Can you midwife? We’ll never reach the village in time with all this snow, even if Ammatán doesn’t return for us.”

  The white-haired girl regarded him for several long moments. “The mad Fae will not concern us now. My grandfather is dealing with him, and he will prevail. I can take care of my friend. You are not needed in this.”