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

Home > Other > Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 > Page 15
Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 Page 15

by Christy Nicholas


  That didn’t mean she didn’t dream of running away, never to return.

  With that thought in mind, she gathered the baby for their trip to the stones. Donn, dressing the hares, glanced up at her movement. “Would you like me to mind him, Ma? I’m just going to make a stew, so don’t mind. Da’s been sleeping well enough.”

  Guilt flooded in her mind. Da only slept because she’d ensorcelled him. Her own husband, under a sleeping magic by her hand. Maybe she had fostered evil, as the Abbot had accused. She swallowed down an unexpected sob.

  After giving her son a thankful nod, she handed Aileran to him. The baby giggled and yanked on Donn’s brown curls, making nonsense sounds of delight. With a glance to the skinned hares, Clíodhna’s stomach jumped, a touch of nausea sweeping over her. She clutched her stomach under her léine, hoping Donn hadn’t noticed. Her husband had only just returned, so the baby wouldn’t be his.

  After her encounter with the dead land, her journey up the glittering path to the standing stones grew more ominous than she remembered. Every shift in the wind, fluttering late summer leaves, made her cringe and assess the danger. Adhna had mentioned Bodach entrapped him. Had it been to catch her, like Pátraic’s trap? Or had it been out of some other reason? Bodach didn’t seem the type to have a methodical sense of revenge. His personality seemed much more chaotic and random. However, she knew little of Fae temperament. She’d only met Adhna and the local nature spirits.

  Adhna had taught her the local spirits weren’t quite Fae, though humans grouped them together. The Fae existed as separate beings, magical creatures who primarily lived in Faerie, while the local nature spirits lived as part of the land, trees, rocks, and rivers. Still, they operated under similar rules and magics, so he understood the conflation amongst common lore.

  When Clíodhna had asked about life in Faerie, he’d shaken his head. “That is not a lesson I wish to give, Clíodhna. Someday, perhaps, I will let you visit. Until then, be content in your life here. It is, in some ways, much safer and more beautiful than Faerie.”

  All the tales told of the beauty of Faerie. Even those humans who had escaped entrapment in Faerie spoke of the breath-taking loveliness of that realm. Perhaps Adhna spoke of something other than physical beauty.

  Clíodhna passed the guardian stones just as the sun’s top edge dipped below the hills. The landscape, awash in deep orange, shifted into a cool violet. She shivered and drew her cloak up around her shoulders. The day’s warmth had disappeared with the sun.

  The black stones glittered in the dying light. No moon had yet risen, and besides it would be but a sliver this night. Another shiver traveled up her spine as she contemplated the tallest stone in the north.

  Spiral symbols had been carved on the inside face of this stone, though they’d worn with the wind of time. Barely visible in this twilight, she traced the pattern with her fingers, turning around once, twice, three times and then again and again. Three spirals connected in the center. A trinity of eternal movement.

  Adhna’s voice behind her made her smile. “You look better rested, Clíodhna. You must have slept well today.”

  Clíodhna turned, a smile on her face. Her lover stood in the center of the circle, midnight robes covering his body in amorphous mystery. “I did, though the exhaustion helped.”

  He narrowed his eyes, staring into hers. “You performed the calming charm on your husband, didn’t you?”

  She swallowed, unprepared for the guilt which attacked her conscience. She forced herself to stand straight and take responsibility for her decision. “I did. He might have hurt himself or my children.”

  He paused a moment before nodding. “It’s as well. You would have been tempted eventually, at any rate. There’s no changing that now.” He reached into his robe and pulled out a small object wrapped in white fabric. It glinted in the darkness, almost glowing with its own light.

  “I have something for you. This is payment not only for freeing me but also for helping the Fae to safety. It’s a gift from me and my Queen, mind you, but there is no price or payment asked in return. Will you accept this gift with a free heart and mind?”

  She stared at the object, mesmerized by the glittering white. “What is it?”

  “I will show you. But first, I must have your assent.”

  Breaking the spell, she glared at him. “How can I know if I want to accept if I don’t know what the gift is? You might be handing me death, for all I know! It might be a gift like a hump back, or a tongue that can never lie!”

  His eyes turned sad. “Do you believe I would treat you so, Clíodhna?”

  Ashamed at her distrust, she bowed her head. “I don’t think that of you, Adhna.” Raising her head, she set her lips in a firm line. “However, I don’t know your Queen, and have no way to assess her goodwill toward me. She might have commanded you to dispose of me in this way, and you wouldn’t be able to warn me. Isn’t that true?”

  He shrugged, the misery in his expression growing. His mouth drooped into a frown and the hand holding the glittering white package fell.

  She swallowed back her fear and decided that she still trusted him, despite that. “That being said, I agree.”

  Adhna frowned with solemn finality before bidding her to sit in the center of the circle before he would unveil his prize.

  “When you freed me from that pit, I lost something, something precious. I lost my ability to live fully in either Faerie or the mortal realm. Now I must spend a certain amount of time in Faerie and a certain time here. Not an onerous curse, of course, but one that will affect my future. Because of that, there may be times I cannot come to you when you need me.

  “Because of this, I requested a boon of my Queen Áine. I asked her to enchant a piece of jewelry so I may gift it to you and your descendants. This jewelry will give you a power or, if you already possess a power, enhance it.”

  He unfolded one side of the white fabric, and then another. A third revealed a brooch fashioned with exquisite detail, anamorphic shapes entwined in gold and silver. Four green gems glittered in the setting, glowing with a subtle gleam in the now near-total darkness.

  She reached to touch it, but he moved it out of her reach. “Not yet. We must prime this magic to you and your family. You can pass this on to one of your own someday, and they to another, as long as they are of your blood.”

  “Will they also possess my magic?”

  “They will find their own magic through the brooch. Be careful who you choose, though. They must be stout of heart and mind, able to wrestle with the power they accrue. Some people are not meant to wield such strength.”

  With a thought to Pátraic, and then to Oisinne, Clíodhna agreed. Power would be dangerous in the hands of those with no respect for it. Those without conscience can use it to manipulate people to their own purposes, and those without self-control can use it to hurt people. “I promise to be cautious with my use of the power.”

  “It isn’t enough to promise to be cautious. I must build in a deterrent. If you misuse or overuse your power, you will feel ill.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “By whose judgment?”

  He gave her a half-smile. “The brooch itself. It may be in your family long after I have passed, or even Queen Áine. A mortal judge would be of little use. The brooch itself, while it has no human or Fae conscience, can nevertheless be immortal, if cared for.”

  “But how can a brooch make judgments of conscience?”

  “It cannot. But it can look within the soul of she who wields it, and judge whether they are doing something for selfish gain or the good of others.”

  She didn’t care for that explanation but could think of few other arguments which might make sense. The brooch drew her, intrigued her, but it also frightened her. Such an artifact in the mortal world might become a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands.

  “How can I control my descendants? They may be rotten people.”

  Adhna stroked the metalwork of the brooch. “The brooch will no
t accept someone unworthy. Each person must be primed into ownership, via a ritual I shall show you. If the brooch accepts the stout heart of the new bearer, it will make a clear choice. Either way.”

  The green stones of the brooch flickered, appearing like the luminous eyes of some underwater monster, ominous and dangerous. Clíodhna clenched her teeth and pulled up her memories of the kinder denizens of the deep. The wise salmon, the playful dolphin, the curious flounder. “Then let us do this ritual. I want to see if the brooch accepts me.”

  Adhna rose without effort and reached his hand to help Clíodhna. She considered rejecting his help, but that would just be obstinate. Clíodhna took his hand and rose, her hand brushing the white fabric. A shock of energy sparked and she pulled back from the sharp pain.

  “Don’t touch it yet! Not until the ceremony is complete. Now, walk around the circle with me, three times.”

  He led her in a stately march around the outside of the circle, sunwise. He led her to the center and held his hands up, cupping the brooch to the sky. The green light of the stones glowed bright now, bathing the entire hilltop in a menacing green light, a portentous warning of dangers to come.

  Small motes of brighter light danced in the darker green light, swirling like the carvings on the stones in a merry dance. The threatening mood lightened into cherry laughter as the lights skipped from the top of each stone, around and around, just as they’d walked.

  The lights gathered around her, forming an almost solid blanket of light. She grinned, delighted at the joyful atmosphere of the lights and their uplifting ambiance. Her spirit soared across the sky, on the wings of a starling in the bright sun of early dawn.

  Now the lights dove straight into her heart. Pain shot through her and she crumpled to the ground. Still the lights entered her breastbone, swimming within her blood, humming with impossible temper inside her bones.

  Clíodhna cried out, begging Adhna to help her, but he simply backed away three steps. “You are part of it, Clíodhna. I cannot stop the ritual now.”

  The lights streamed out of her fingertips, her mouth, her nose, even her eyes. Each one left with painful stings as if she’d been poked by a thousand sewing needles. Into her heart and out of her fingers, into her blood and out of her eyes. The pain just kept going until she lost consciousness. Her final thought came as a relief that she hadn’t brought Aileran.

  * * *

  Clíodhna’s entire body ached. She tried to open her eyes, but they refused to obey her command. Instead, she groaned, which at least elicited a response. Not from her body, but from Adhna.

  “Well, I had no idea it would be so intense, my dear Clíodhna. I apologize for that. However, at least you survived the process.”

  Despite his assurances, she didn’t see much to be joyful for. She couldn’t move her arms. Clíodhna couldn’t even say words to that effect.

  “I suspect you’re a wee bit sore. I will do what I can for that, but I must admit I have little power at the moment. It took most of my reserves just to create the brooch before my Queen blessed it, and I’ll be a bit low for some time, especially after Bodach’s attack and your rescue. I’m afraid I’m exhausted.”

  Clíodhna wanted to ask him to stop rambling and just cast whatever spell he had to take away the ache.

  “Now, hold still…”

  What else did he think she might do? Dance a jig?

  He placed his hands over her belly. Warmth spread through her body, a sweet, fuzzy warmth, like being curled up in front of a peat fire covered in wool blankets and the arms of a lover. A delicious warmth like hot lamb stew down your throat. A savory warmth, like the hug of a sleeping baby.

  The heat traveled down her limbs and up around her scalp, making her hair stand on end. When it reached her lips, she tried talking again.

  “Did… did the brooch accept me?”

  He chuckled, removing his hands. “If it hadn’t, you would be a lot less able to ask about it, let me assure you.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows, the ache fading to dullness. He held out the brooch, wrapped in its white cloth. “This is now yours, my dear Clíodhna. Guard it well, use it wisely, and be ever aware of its power.”

  Nodding, she took the gift with caution, recalling the pain from the transition. It tingled when she touched it, but not painfully so.

  Adhna helped her once again to her feet. “As much as it pains me, I must leave you now, and I shan’t be back for some time. I have to deal with Bodach’s betrayal, and that will take most of my limited energy. Will you be safe enough here without me?”

  Thinking of Oisinne, slumbering under her spell in the roundhouse, she nodded. “I think so. I hope so.”

  “Very well. If you have need of me, you know how to call me here, but I may not come right away.”

  She hugged him tight, loath to let him go. “I wish I could come with you.”

  Startled, he returned the hug. “But you don’t, Clíodhna. You truly don’t. Faerie is not a place to escape to–it’s a place to escape from.”

  She dug her fingers into his back, desperate for a solution. “I don’t care. You’re there, and you’re the only one who understands me. I want to learn more from you, talk to you, make love to you. You’re everything in one, a friend, a lover, a teacher.”

  With a rueful chuckle, he kissed her with deep passion on the lips, and then chastely on the forehead. “And you are all things to me, sweet Clíodhna. A stronger woman I have rarely met. I will come back for you when I can. I promise that.”

  He turned and faded into the darkness.

  With only the faint stars to guide her, Clíodhna trudged back to her roundhouse with her mad husband and children. Clíodhna gripped the magical brooch until the edges bit into her skin, but she welcomed the pain. It didn’t come close to matching the pain in her heart.

  Much to her relief, Oisinne still slept. Despite his snores shaking the thatched roof, it remained tied and watertight. Donn sat outside in the clearing, a small, cheery fire in the outside pit. Aileran sat next to him, playing with a few colored rocks, glowing in the flickering firelight. Etromma had disappeared.

  “Donn? Etromma hasn’t returned yet?” Glancing up at the star-filled sky, Clíodhna clamped down on the panic rising in her belly.

  Her son grinned. “Oh, she came home, and left again in a huff. Tirechan has never learned how to track game. She’s showing him how.”

  Clíodhna frowned. Tracking game at night? Doubtful. She narrowed her eyes at Donn, surprised he’d been fooled by such a flimsy excuse, but her eldest son just tickled Aileran to elicit a giggle, oblivious to her regard.

  Etromma had enough winters to wed, and she’d chosen who she wished. His family’s surprising reversal on her acceptance made Clíodhna suspicious, but if Etromma found a good place, she’d be content. Clíodhna just hoped that Tirechan didn’t toy with her affections. If that young man hurt Etromma, he’d have to answer for it.

  Young love. Clíodhna remembered such bliss. Back when she’d first wed Oisinne, and he’d entertain her every evening with outlandish tales. Back when he’d made her body sing under the blankets, and they’d made love under the stars on summer nights. But the giddiness of young love faded into content and comfortable. The magic died into routine. That was a long time ago, and now her husband lay in a spelled sleep, so mad he became a danger to his family.

  Some tales spoke of the madness. A human gets tricked into visiting Faerie, and when he’d returned, he’d lost all sense. Adhna said this hadn’t happened to Oisinne, but what if Adhna didn’t know? She didn’t want to blame the Fae for something that wasn’t their fault, but still, her mind and conscience craved a reason for Oisinne’s madness. Clíodhna wanted something to blame, some reason behind the change. Life didn’t always give reasons, but she still sought one.

  With another rueful glance toward the roundhouse, Clíodhna sat cross-legged next to her younger son and moved the rocks around in a pattern. He giggled and touched one, so she mov
ed that one in a circle. They played that game for a while and Clíodhna realized that, even if she didn’t find joy every hour of the day, she found moments of joy with her children. Perhaps that would be enough.

  After Etromma returned, somewhat mussed from her evening adventures, Clíodhna gave her a stern look and pulled her aside. Donn took Aileran inside and put him to sleep.

  Etromma stood with her feet planted wide and crossed her arms. “Well? I hope you won’t lecture me on my behavior.”

  Clíodhna raised her eyebrows. “Why should I do that? Did you do something which deserves a lecture?”

  Her daughter’s haughty confidence slipped. “N-no.”

  With a half-smile, she put a finger under Etromma’s chin. “My darling daughter, not so many winters ago, I was your age. Men can be lovely companions in the dark of the night. Just be certain he will also claim your companionship as the sun rises high.”

  Even in the dying firelight, Etromma’s blush rose strong. “He does! Well, he says he does. His mother hugged me, and made me eat three helpings of fruit tart.”

  Clíodhna chuckled. “And will you be spending more time with them, then?”

  “He’s invited me to come on a trade journey with him to Baile Átha Luain in three days. His father needs more ore and some tools, so he’s sending Tirechan. His older sister is going, too, so we won’t be alone.”

  “How long will the trip take?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s about a two-day trip each way, so perhaps six days in total?” Her eyes held a tender appeal, as if Clíodhna would say no to such a request.

  “Just be cautious. Travel can be dangerous, and Tirechan is strong, but young. One man can only fight off so many attackers. The Fianna are still out and about this summer, and some aren’t picky about the law.”

  Her eyes glittering in gratitude, Etromma nodded her head with such vigor, her lightly tied hair fell loose. With a grin, Clíodhna picked an oak leaf from her tresses. “And be cautious with your young man. You should be vowed before a baby comes. Does he make you happy, Etromma?”

 

‹ Prev