The elder druid’s eyes grew sharp. “Where precisely did he find it?”
“Colorado, I think.”
“Colorado,” Ewain said as though testing the word in his mouth. He scratched his beard and let his hand trail down. Fingering a metal disk he wore on a thong around his neck, he asked, “What makes him think it wasn’t an Otherworld gate? We did have those in Danastai once.”
Rory knew the old guy was fishing for something in particular. He was a canny one, this geezer. “You know as well as I do Otherworld gates aren’t solid on the human side.”
“He tested it?”
“Well, the stones were broken. He drew power from two faeries, one spirit and one astral. The flows unscrambled some runes, but not all of them. Do you know what this gate is?”
“Oh yes,” Ewain said, his tone distant.
Sheng sat forward. “Did you make it?”
“If what your leader discovered is what I believe it to be, I was certainly there. Together, all the draoidh employed our talents to fashion The Way.”
“The Way, my lord druid?” Flùranach asked.
Ewain ignored the question and met Rory’s gaze. “Does Munro plan to try to open it?”
Rory glanced at Sheng, who gave a slight shrug. “Maybe,” Rory said. “Depends. He’s not keen on strange portals these days.”
Ewain barked a harsh laugh. He had direct knowledge of the experience that caused Munro to be so wary. “I’d make an exception for this one,” he said. “But he is wise to be cautious.” After a moment, he turned to Sheng. “What do you want?”
“Me?” Sheng shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride. I spend every day learning everything I can. I’m new at this druid thing, and I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to meet you. Your powers are legendary.”
For a second, Ewain looked pleased. For a leathery old git, he had his vanity. “May I see your artefact?” He gestured to the items Sheng wore around his neck. “The stone one with the hole in the centre.”
Without hesitation, Sheng took the piece off and handed it over, his eyes alight with curiosity.
“You wield air?”
“Wield might be too strong a word,” Sheng said with a chuckle.
Ewain returned the small stone, then took a stylus from his pocket and offered it to Sheng. “Add a rune for each of the four cardinal directions as you would a compass.”
Leaning toward the fire to get better light, Sheng did as Ewain suggested. When he’d finished, he ran his thumb over the small stone.
“Now, on the reverse, inscribe runes for ingress, egress, push, and pull.”
“I don’t know the first two.” Sheng furrowed his brow. “Will passage work?”
“The chosen symbol must imply direction. A passage works both ways.”
“Entrance and exit?”
“Better,” Ewain said.
Sheng worked while Rory watched the old man, who kept an eye on Flùranach the whole time. Oddly, Rory didn’t feel jealous. He hadn’t slept with her in months, not since before she turned on Aaron and used her astral magic against him. Since that day, she’d been almost completely under Rory’s control by virtue of the bond. Having sex with her in this state would have felt wrong, not that he could muster any attraction for her anymore. He honestly had difficulty believing he’d once thought he was in love with her. And now, his choices were to either control her with the bond, build her a jail cell, or have her flows of magic completely severed, which would mean she wouldn’t be of any use to them.
“Now,” Ewain said. “Direct your influence through one cardinal direction and one command.”
Rory watched as Sheng frowned with concentration. A gust of air sent sparks from the fire in every direction and pushed the flames aside in a puff. “Nice,” the Aussie druid said with a grin.
Ewain nodded his approval. “You can push air out to create a shield, but you must practice to make it work in all directions at once. If you had an orb rather than a disk, you would add the runes for up and down as well.”
“Down? Then could I use it to hover?”
Ewain chuckled. “Perhaps, but stability would be an issue, especially with such a small focus. You’d be better off building a steady line of immovable foci and activating them as you moved. It would require much time and practice, even for that to work. You’d be more likely to launch yourself into a hedge.”
Sheng returned the stylus. “Thanks,” he said.
Ewain tilted his head. “I know what you want,” he said to Rory.
“Yeah, the gate,” he said.
The elder’s eyes shifted to Flùranach. “You keep her on a tight leash.” Before Rory had a chance to explain, Ewain said, “I can give you what you desire most if you do something for me.”
“What do you have in mind?” Rory said, his curiosity piqued in spite of his reservations.
“I need an artefact. If you bring the piece to me, I will use it to help Munro restore The Way and show you the path to freedom.”
Only for an instant was Rory tempted to play dumb and ask what Ewain meant, but the old man wouldn’t be fooled. Somehow, he had detected the magical injury from Flùranach’s attack on him several years before, the scars of which meant he would never bond with anyone else. “I don’t think what you’re suggesting is possible,” Rory said.
“Why not? I have seen wounds that cannot be healed. Yours is not one of them.”
“You’re saying the damage can be undone?”
“I cannot take away your anger or pain, but I can restore the temple that houses the bond.”
“I could bond with another faerie?” Rory sat forward. He’d given up hope a long time ago. When Flùranach stole his bond, they’d both been damaged. He’d believed he would never be whole. It wasn’t supposed to be possible.
“If I had the Cup of Cultus, yes.”
Rory sensed anguish in Flùranach’s mind, pulling at him, but he gave her will a jerk with his thoughts. She whimpered but managed to rein in her emotions. Controlling her had grown easier, and part of him hated that fact, hated himself. The idea of being free of her tempted him. But if not him, who would keep her in line? The druids needed her. He said as much to Ewain.
“Nonsense,” the elder druid responded. “With the Flute of Souls I gave Munro, he can sense druid magic. Over time, you will learn to craft more. Every one of you could have the ability this female possesses.”
Rory hadn’t thought to ask how Munro knew Huck’s sister was a druid. He must have used the flute. Excitement overtook Rory’s thoughts. He would be free. “Where is this Cup?”
Ewain took a small piece of stone from the mantle. “Stone is not my favoured element,” he said, a bitter edge in his tone. With his stylus, he inscribed an intricate rune. Rory watched, fascinated. It was as though Ewain told a story all in one character. When the elder druid was finished, he handed the token to Rory. “The Mistgate can take you to the proper place.”
“Okay,” Rory said. “If I get this Cup for you, you’ll heal my bond?”
“For a price.”
“But the artefact—”
“Is but an instrument I require.”
“What more do you want?” His mind went to the bank accounts the druids held in the human realm. No, that wouldn’t be the price. What use would money be to Ewain?
“The female,” he said, flicking his hand to indicate Flùranach.
“What about her?” Rory asked.
“She is my price.”
Sheng laughed. “You must be joking.” When he noticed Rory hadn’t joined him, he lowered his voice. “You can’t sell her.”
“Of course not,” Rory said, unable to keep the hesitation out of his voice.
“Hell, Rory,” Sheng said. “You can’t sell her.”
Suddenly angry, Rory rounded on him. “You don’t know what it’s like, having her inside my head all the time, her emotions seeping into my mind like an oil you can’t wash off. She’s my bloody albatross.”
; Flùranach turned her face as though slapped.
Something changed in Sheng’s eyes, a clear disillusionment. “She’s a person. Do you have any idea what Munro would say if he knew you were even talking about selling her?”
Rory had to concede the point. Munro had been the only one who came close to understanding. He’d seen what happened, knew what Flùr had done to Rory. Probably even understood that all the time Rory thought he was in love with her, she’d manipulated his mind. Every time they’d had sex, she’d stoked his feelings. She’d taken everything good and ruined it, perverted it. Rory hated her. He sighed. Even with all that, Munro wouldn’t condone selling her.
“I can’t,” Rory said. “Is there anything else?”
“I want to stay,” Flùranach said quietly, and all eyes turned to her. “He is the Father of the Sky. Who would not be honoured to serve? You despise me, and because of your judgement, you have mistreated me.” When Rory started to argue, she said, “I’ve never said I don’t deserve your ire, but I don’t enjoy it.”
Ewain’s eyes sparkled, swirling with the silver of his spirit magic. “Then you have no excuse not to do as I ask,” Ewain said. “Release your hold on her; say the unbinding words. Once you return the Cup of Cultus to me, I will restore the seat of your bond and you will be free to search for another.”
Rory stared at Flùranach. “You’d rather stay in this place, possibly forever, than return to the Druid Hall? Take a good look before you answer.” He didn’t even like the idea of spending the rest of one night and the next day here. How could she prefer this, even given her situation?
For the first time in months, he saw a spark in her eyes. Her red hair glowed in the reflected firelight. “I’d rather die than return with you. I just never had anywhere else to go before.”
Just when he thought they couldn’t hurt each other any more, there it was, the death blow for whatever love may have once been real. He wanted to make some retort, but he felt broken. “Fine, she’s yours.” He looked at Flùranach and concentrated on their bond. “I release you.” Immediately, the magic tying them together began to unwind, and his control slipped away.
A smile crept onto Ewain’s face. He bowed slightly to Rory. “I will care for her.” He held out a hand to Flùranach. “Come,” he said, and she obeyed without hesitation.
Chapter 5
Munro sat on a wide, plush chair across from Griogair and took a cup of fruit juice from a servant’s tray. Griogair refused a drink and waved her away. “Nice digs,” Munro said. The palace that served as the prince’s prison was only a five-minute run from Canton Dreich. Even the many uniformed Watchers couldn’t make the place seem like any holding cell Munro had ever seen in the human realm.
He kept his tone light, but the dark circles under Griogair’s eyes told him the prince hadn’t slept in a while.
“Our mate apologised when she had me arrested. Did she mention that?” Griogair asked.
Munro shook his head, but he wasn’t surprised. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how heartbroken she is.”
Griogair’s violet eyes darkened. “No.” He tilted his head at Munro as though seeing him for the first time. “You look like hell, brother,” he said.
“Thanks. You too. Changing the subject?” Munro took a sip of his drink before setting the cup aside.
“I wish it were that easy.” Griogair was immaculately dressed in soft leather dyed a deep purple with gold piping. He looked every inch the royal, but somehow, he seemed diminished.
“Tell me what happened,” Munro said gently. “I knew the trip to Eirlioc Falls was planned on short notice, but I didn’t think anything of it.” He didn’t want to admit he’d been relieved when Eilidh went away on these trips on kingdom business. It lessened his guilt about all the time he spent in the human realm.
“What did Eilidh say to you?”
“I want to hear your version. Start at the beginning. Last I heard, Koen was being held at Eirlioc Falls and the trip had something to do with him. His cell was a place similar to this, I’d guess?”
With a glance around the room, Griogair nodded. “Yes. The palace is more formal, more to Queen Cadhla’s taste than Eilidh’s. It’s where I first met Eilidh. It seems so long ago. A lifetime.”
“I remember,” Munro said. “So you had Koen sent there when you charged him with treason.”
“Yes. After he and Eilidh were joined, he spent a great deal of time there, as you know. I thought it kinder to put him somewhere familiar.”
“Not to mention away from the joint conclave and out of your hair.”
“Indeed,” Griogair said with a fleeting smile.
“When Eilidh returned from the Halls of Mist, she told you what she planned to do about Koen?” Munro prompted.
“We discussed it several times, and I gave formal testimony to the joint conclave regarding what Konstanze had said to me. Eilidh and the elders also questioned me regarding my conversations directly with Koen when she was…ill.”
The sentiment was irrational, but Munro felt responsible. The breaking of his bond with Eilidh when Munro had died sent her mind into a tailspin. Even three months after his spirit had been returned to his body, he didn’t feel quite right. He wondered if Eilidh still suffered as well. “You disagreed with her decision?”
“I did,” Griogair said.
“What did you do next?”
“Do? Nothing.”
“You confessed to having killed Koen,” Munro said.
“Yes.”
“So after you realised Eilidh was not going to order his execution, you decided to arrange the trip to Eirlioc Falls?”
Griogair frowned. “Not right away.”
Munro took a sip of his drink, waiting for the prince to continue.
After a moment, Griogair went on. “Brother, I promised his death before Eilidh even returned from the Halls of Mist. After the reunification of the Otherworld and the breaking of the portal, I returned home to Canton Dreich. Eilidh had you to care for her, several elders including Oron. She needed time to recover, but Caledonia needed me here.”
“No one would criticise you for not staying with her. It must have been difficult to leave her behind when you’d spent so long worrying at her bedside after my death. You did the right thing. Caledonia did need you.”
With a tilt of his head, Griogair went on. “A week after I arrived, I received a message. I’d personally commanded the Watcher who arrested him. If Koen tried to escape, he should be restricted to his suite and I was to be informed. This step had been taken after the Watchers discovered Koen trying to climb over a wall. I don’t know what he was thinking. Since my arrest, I sense the guards’ touch on my mind night and day. I know the moment they change the duty rotation. He had to realise he would be caught.”
Munro agreed the move was stupid, but Koen hadn’t been very bright. “Desperation, I suppose.”
“Perhaps. I suspect he managed to send letters to his father and possibly some followers or others I don’t know about. Maybe that was his only goal. Part of my order was no communication in or out. I didn’t want to risk him trying to organise a rebellion with Eilidh so vulnerable.”
Again, Munro felt the blame squarely on his own shoulders. He sighed. Their bond gave them both strength and power, but this was the price they paid. “So what happened next?”
“I was angry,” Griogair said. “Not at Koen, I suppose upon reflection, although he certainly deserved my ire. I went to Eirlioc Falls the next day. In front of half a dozen Watchers, I told Koen that if he tried to escape again, I would return and put an elemental sword through his gut.” With a rueful smile, he added, “I thought my words might deter further attempts.”
Munro sat back in his chair and exhaled loudly. “Did they?”
“For a while. Still, I had no right to issue the threat. Eilidh’s faculties had been restored. The decision to order his death was not mine to make from the moment you returned from the shadow realm.”
“Christ.”
Griogair shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I knew my position when I gave the command. In truth, after Eilidh returned to the kingdom, I didn’t give the incident much thought. This happened some weeks before. I only relay the story because it seems to indicate I planned to kill him all along.”
“But you didn’t,” Munro said. Guilt washed over him at having been gone often and so preoccupied with the search for Huck and Demi that he’d missed such important events.
Age of Druids Page 6
