Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9

by Christy Nicholas

  Wrung out from the emotional adventures of the day, she dragged herself into her roundhouse, thankful to be safe home. Clíodhna had no idea how long she’d been in the abbey, nor when she must retrieve her children, but for now, she curled up in a knot and shook.

  Her righteous anger, her inflamed passion, her abject misery, these all warred within her, threatening to burst forth with ferocious intensity. Her blood burned with the emotions swirling, fighting to be free, echoed by the fierce storm outside.

  Clíodhna bolted upright, a horrible thought occurring to her. What if Pátraic took his rage out on her children? She must get them home immediately.

  After taking a moment to grab her oiled leather cloak, along with Etromma and Donn’s, she braved the fury of the storm once again, the rain now blowing sideways.

  Not three steps from her door, a hand on her shoulder made her whirl, knife in hand, ready to fight whoever interrupted her mission.

  Adhna stood tall and untouched by the tempest surrounding him. “You must come with me, Clíodhna.”

  Clíodhna glanced toward the abbey. “I need to get my children. They may be in danger.”

  He gripped her shoulder. “They are safe for now and will be so until you retrieve them. I have seen to that. You must come with me now.”

  “Why?”

  “You must calm the storm.”

  The rain didn’t touch him. The wind didn’t blow his hair or beard. He stood like a statue against the maelstrom. Despite his assurances about her children, she wouldn’t have followed him, if not for that patent sign of his powers.

  * * *

  Adhna led her along a path Clíodhna didn’t recognize. She’d lived here for seasons. How did she not know every path in this area? It rose with the hills, up and up into the blinding rain. Mud squelched beneath her boots, making her slip and slide several times until Adhna reached back for her hand, keeping her steady. Hand in hand, they climbed higher, past the tree line, past two huge rocky outcroppings looming on either side of the path. They passed through a strange mist, still despite the raging storm, and emerged onto a bare hilltop.

  No, not bare. A single stone jutted out of the grass, with smaller stones forming a circle. The smaller stones came barely to her knees, but the tallest monolith towered above her in sinister threat.

  Adhna still clasped her hand, but she resisted being drawn into the Faerie circle. She’d been so wary of a bargain with the Fae, why would she willingly enter such a place with Adhna? He had been true to her so far, but that held no meaning now.

  “You must enter, Clíodhna. For your own safety.”

  Her safety. Safety didn’t exist. That Abbot would come after her now that she’d defied him. If she stood on this hilltop long enough, the storm might sweep her away into oblivion. Safety in non-existence hadn’t been an option she’d considered. But if her only other path lie in entering Faerie, perhaps death would be a better choice.

  Despite her reluctance, he yanked her into the circle. Clíodhna cried out in pain and surprise. Adhna had never handled her with rough hands before. Didn’t a human need to enter such a circle freely? All the tales said so. She stood within the stones, shaking from nerves and fear.

  The storm remained outside.

  “Now, calm the storm, Clíodhna.”

  “Me? I have no such power, Adhna. How can I stop this?”

  He raised his eyebrows, his expression sad. “You created this storm. It’s a manifestation of your own rage, brought forth into the mortal realm. It’s disturbed both your world and my own. My Queen has commanded me to show you how to halt the tempest.”

  She had caused this? How had she done that? Thinking back to the beginning, when Clíodhna spoke to Odhrán, and how upset she’d become when he spoke of his moving away, a glimmer of understanding poked through her confusion. Then the passionate lovemaking and the fury at the Abbot… possibly she did have a hand in it.

  With a painful swallow, she glanced at her mentor. “Very well. Maybe you’re right. Show me how.”

  He led her to the center of the circle, facing the tall stone. “Sit. Draw in the earth’s strength. Concentrate on the calming, gentle energy of the land. Be braced for some pain.”

  Clíodhna did as he bid, the power strong now. No gentle tendrils, but a rushing blue light tore through her spine, making her stiffen in pain.

  “Good. As the power channels up through you, hold your arms high and direct that power out into the clouds. Picture it unraveling the storm, like when you untie a tangle in thread. Bit by bit, unknotting the anger, pain, and rage from your emotional storm.”

  The power burst forth from her hands and she screamed in agony. She couldn’t move from the pain and had little control on the amount coursing through her muscles and bones. It shot into the sky, blanketing the roiling, swirling clouds with pale blue lightning. The pain became part of her, and she regained control over her hands. Clíodhna physically pushed, as if the clouds came close enough to touch. Branches of the light dug the clouds apart, pushing them into small pieces. They splintered into smaller dark puffs of her wrath. The angry thunderheads quieted into sullen darkness.

  “Good. Now draw the energy back down, into the earth.”

  Another shot of pain arched her back and she cried out. Stars danced in the darkness behind her eyes as she pulled the anger and rage back into the ground, the coolness embracing the red until it dimmed into a sullen heartbeat.

  When the sky became calm and the now deflated storm clouds drifted away, she slumped on the ground, drained from her efforts.

  Adhna curled around her, his body warm against her back. He held her as her heartbeat slowed from its frantic pace, as her skin no longer burned with earth energy. When she could breathe again, she croaked, “Is it done?”

  “It’s done. Now sleep, Clíodhna. You’ve done well, but it’s taken everything you have. I will protect you. Sleep, and when you have rested, we can retrieve your children. They will be safe. Rest. I’m here for you.”

  She didn’t want to sleep. She had so much to do, but she had no will to move her body, and so she drifted into a deep slumber.

  Her dreams grew dark and amorphous, full of chasing danger, but try as she might, she couldn’t glimpse what pursued her. Clíodhna pushed through boggy muck, but whatever pursued her came closer. She turned to face her attacker but found nothing except darkness closing in upon her. She flailed with the spear in her arm. Spear? Where had she found a spear? The iron tip burned her skin when she touched it. The gloom smothered her, and she couldn’t draw in a breath. Panicked, she ripped at the night with her spear, rending great gaps in the void. Beyond it she saw nothing, only more black despair.

  With a gasp, she bolted upright, awake and terrified. Adhna put his arms around her, still pressed against her back. “Shh. Calm, now. The darkness will not get you. I’m here. Your dreams are of the future, not of the now. A future far, far away. A future for a people, not a person.”

  Her breath came in short gasps, despite the now brilliant sun above them. The mist and storm had all burned away, and the grass glistened in the bright sunlight. This helped to push the memory of the ominous darkness to the back of her mind.

  Clíodhna breathed in deep, taking in the sweet aromas of wet grass and clover. Her head cleared and she must move. She’d laid down for far too long. Etromma, Donn, and Aileran needed her.

  She stood, but her knees buckled. Adhna supported her until she regained her balance, but her legs still wobbled. “What in Danú’s name is wrong with me?”

  Adhna laughed, the sound rippling around her. “My dear Clíodhna, you just worked a major magical conjuring and then pulled the energy from the very earth to quell it. You’re still drained, despite the sleep. Let me help you to your home.”

  “I must get my children first!”

  “I shall fetch the young ones. You need to rest. At dusk, I’ll bring you back up here for Bealtaine, and we can complete your healing.”

  Dusk. The beginni
ng of the fire feast, the time when the veil between the worlds grew thin. Clíodhna thought back to her lovemaking with Odhrán and wished she dared bring him to this hill. While she’d honored the goddess with their act, it hadn’t been in quite the right place nor quite the right time. Still, it might serve well enough.

  With Adhna’s arm around her shoulders, she stumbled down the green hill, through the looming gate stones, and into the valley below. She still didn’t recognize the path, but it brought her to her farm. She didn’t quibble when Adhna made her lie on her bed, pulling the wool blanket to her chin. He placed a cool hand on her forehead and spoke a few words in an ancient language. Despite her determination to remain awake, she faded into slumber.

  This time, she had no dreams.

  Chapter Four

  The spring breeze caressed her face and she touched her cheek, imagining it to be Odhrán’s hand. Remembering the heat of him, she woke, glancing around the roundhouse. Etromma stood at the table, chopping turnips. Clíodhna didn’t notice Donn, but Aileran slept in his bed. Adhna sat by the hearth, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon.

  “Ah, just in time! Etromma, did you finish the stew? Your mother will need a hearty meal when we return.”

  The girl hummed to herself. Clíodhna blinked several times, unsure of how to react. She didn’t think Adhna had even met her children before. Now they acted as if they’d known him all their lives? She glanced at each, trying to make sense of her world.

  She glanced at her daughter as Etromma brought a bowl. “Etromma?”

  “It’s fine, Ma. Adhna told us everything.”

  Everything? Her stomach clenched.

  “Adhna collected us from the abbey. He explained he’s been teaching you, just like the monks have been teaching us.”

  Not everything, then. She breathed more easily.

  Adhna put a hand out to help her rise. “I wish I could allow you more rest. Your body still needs physical recovery. But today is Bealtaine, so I must take you back up to the hill. Tonight is too special to squander. Besides, I have some information for you.”

  “Information? About what?”

  “Several things, but they must all wait until we are safe in the circle. Come.”

  Clíodhna relieved herself in the sand basket near the door before she allowed Adhna to lead her outside. She glanced back. “Etromma? Will you and Donn look after Aileran?”

  Her daughter didn’t look up from her task. “Of course, Ma. Do what you need to do. We’ll be fine.”

  Clíodhna swallowed. Only sixteen winters old and ready to run her own household. She’d continued her pursuit of Tirechan, the blacksmith’s boy, although his father still resisted the match. Soon her daughter would leave home and start a family of her own. Clíodhna’s throat caught with impending loss. She left her eldest in charge of her other children with both pride and trepidation.

  In silence, Clíodhna and Adhna trekked back up the mysterious path and through the stones. They didn’t seem so sinister now, in the fading twilight. The stone circle looked almost bright and cheerful in the setting sun. The golden light bathed the inside surface of the large stone. It must stand on the eastern edge of the ring. The glow seemed too strong for mere sunlight, though.

  Adhna held her outside the stones, not letting her walk inside. He drew her around the circle one time, twice, thrice, all while chanting in some ancient language, words too slippery for her to grasp their meaning. His voice echoed across the space, swirling around her like playful mist.

  With each march around the perimeter, the glowing stone grew brighter. Even the smaller stones pulsed with faint light. By the time they completed the third circuit, the main stone shone almost as strong as the sun, now just touching the horizon in the west.

  The world turned orange, red, and yellow. It pulsed with the earth’s heartbeat, slow and steady, strong and stolid. They entered the stones, hand in hand, with deliberate steps. Clíodhna’s pulse quickened as the energy slammed against her.

  This was no gentle earth energy, the tendrils of blue-white light she’d become so familiar with. This energy surged with seasonal strength, the power of the sun, far more strident than the placid land. Clíodhna fell to her knees with the force of it.

  Adhna knelt next to her and pulled her into an embrace. He still spoke in that ancient chant, his voice encircling her with comfort. She clung to him as the power swirled around them.

  He bent his lips to hers and kissed her.

  Clíodhna couldn’t handle all this, not so soon after Odhrán and the storm magic. Clíodhna wiggled to escape his grasp, and he let her go. She pulled back and stared at him. Yes, she wanted him, and had wanted him for many moons now. But her poor body balked at the effort.

  “I can’t, Adhna. Not after all I’ve gone through today.”

  “You can, if you wish it. I will lend you strength. You can say no, and I won’t be upset in the slightest, but another opportunity like this won’t come for another six moons.”

  “Must it be right now?” She glanced at the sun, knowing the answer.

  He followed her gaze and sighed. “We might hold off for a little while, but not much. We must complete the ritual before the last sliver of sun disappears behind the hills, as I’m sure you know. Would you like to wait? Or will you allow me to help? I can give you the energy now, and you can decide afterward. The ritual will be flawed if you participate under duress. I need your full willingness.”

  Clíodhna swallowed, staring toward the descending sun. She needed something. Someone to lean on, someone to lend her stability. This day had been far too chaotic for her to make sense of what she ought to do, but in the end, it seemed right to her soul to at least attempt what Adhna asked.

  She spread her arms and bowed her head. “Lend your energy. I’ll try.”

  Adhna hesitated. “Are you certain? I don’t wish to press you into this against your desires.”

  She straightened her spine, determined to be part of his ritual. “Yes. I want this. Please.”

  He placed his hands on her forehead. The warmth and strength flowed into her head, out through her torso, and into each limb. Clíodhna quivered with the energy, unable to stop her arms and legs from twitching. The pleasure rushed so strong it hurt, both worse and better than any pleasure she’d experienced with lovemaking. Unable to stop the flow, she arched her back with a soundless scream.

  When the rush of energy dwindled, she glowed. Clíodhna sprang to her feet and shook out her arms, rubbing the skin to remove the intense prickling sensation, like thousands of tiny ants biting her skin. Adhna didn’t need to assist her this time.

  “You took that well, Clíodhna. I’m proud of your ability. You’ve learned much since I first met you.”

  Flushing at the praise, she paced. Now the energy rose too fast, too strong. She wanted to run up and down the hill at full speed, bare feet gripping the soft grass. After assessing the gate rocks, she wondered how long it would take to climb to the top.

  “I told you I have information for you. Now is the time to tell you.”

  Clíodhna halted, her hand pressed against her breast, sensing her rapid heartbeat. “What information?”

  “I know something of your ancestry. Something you need to know now.”

  While forcing herself to sit, she fidgeted her fingers as she tried to pay attention to his words.

  “I knew your family, seasons ago. Specifically, your mother’s father. Do you remember him at all?”

  Her grandfather? She’d never met the man. He’d died long before she had been born. She ran her fingers through her hair, aware of how straggly it looked. Swinging her head back and forth, she watched the clumped strands swish by, fascinated with their heft.

  “Clíodhna! Pay attention. Your grandfather wasn’t human.”

  She halted and stared at Adhna. “What?”

  “He had been a Lord of the Fae Court, under my Queen Áine. He traveled to the human lands, fell in love with your grandmother, and then ret
urned to Faerie.”

  She stood again, pacing back and forth, shaking out her hands. “No, that can’t be right. He lived with my grandmother for many winters. My father remembered him when he courted Mother. He used to take him hunting.”

  “That was the man who married your grandmother after he left. Not your true grandfather.”

  She stomped her feet, reveling in the solid thumps they made. “That makes no sense. Who was this Fae? Wait. That means I’m part Fae?”

  A grin broke Adhna’s serious demeanor. “Yes. That’s the point I’m trying to get to, Clíodhna. You have Fae blood. It courses through your veins, stronger than any of your family. This is why you have magic. This is why you can call the storms from the sky. This is why you called a maelstrom with your rage and passion today, and why I could show you how to dissipate it.”

  Clíodhna glanced down at her knife hilt. “But why can I touch iron?”

  “Your human blood protects you from cold iron.”

  She sat, suddenly weighted down by the knowledge.

  “And that is why I’ve chosen to teach you. That is why I would like you to be part of the Bealtaine ritual. Are you still willing? If so, it is time.”

  She looked over her shoulder to see the barest sliver of the sun still showing over the distant hills. Mists had risen to obscure the light, but a faint orange glow still pushed through the dusky fog. With a deep breath and a wistful notion of wishing Odhrán sat next to her, she bit her lip.

  “I would love to take part in your ritual.”

  Adhna put his hand out, and she placed hers on it. He drew her up and into his arms. He kissed her once, gently on the lips, and then they touched foreheads, gazing into each other’s eyes.

  Where her earlier tryst with Odhrán had been frantic and eager, Adhna went slowly, gently, with more care than she might have believed. She’d had several lovers, but none as deliberate, considerate, and attentive as the Fae.