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

by Christy Nicholas

  While playing with the end of her plait, Etromma grinned. “He does, Ma. And he asks me all sorts of questions and listens to my answers.”

  “Questions about what?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, my favorite weather, or if I like any songs, or if I like fish, that sort of thing.”

  “It seems he does want to learn more about you. That’s good. It means he’s interested in more than bedding you. I’ll pack you some provisions before you leave.”

  Etromma bounced away into the roundhouse. Clíodhna doubted her daughter would get any sleep.

  Sleep, despite her exhaustion earlier, seemed the farthest from her own mind now. Her imagination whirled with too many things. Adhna, the brooch, Oisinne, Etromma and Tirechan, Pátraic, all these things swam in her memory, jostling for her attention. She couldn’t untangle any of these problems now, but none of them cared.

  While nestling on her side around the glowing coals of the outside hearth, Clíodhna tried to relax her mind by thinking of something new, something fantastic. Clíodhna pulled up her vision of what the world of Faerie might be like. Despite Adhna’s censure, it seemed a magical place of wonder and beauty. As a child, she’d always wanted to visit the land of the Fae, colored by so many legends and tales, despite the dangers. What would it be like to stand before the Queen of Faerie? Would there be dancing and singing? Would she have magnificent courtiers?

  Bodach’s bark-covered face hove into her imagination, and she clamped down hard on that memory. Clíodhna didn’t want the evil Fae lord sullying her fantasy. He may be a true-life courtier of the Faerie Queen, but he had no business in her own image of the place. With a flick of her hand, she pushed him away.

  He returned almost as quickly as he disappeared.

  As she had so many times in the real world, she pulled on storm clouds in her imagined world, but they wouldn’t come to her call. Frowning, she glanced up, but no clouds appeared. No sun, no wind, no rain. How would she use her power in a place with no weather?

  She glared at Bodach in the flickering firelight, grinning with maniac glee at her fruitless efforts. With a grim set to her jaw, she pulled instead on the magic of the earth beneath Faerie. This, she could do, thanks to Adhna’s instructions.

  The land of Faerie held far stronger magic than in the mortal world, and instead of thin tendrils of blue-white light, enormous ropes of white power twisted and writhed in her bones. They threatened to take over her body, but she wrestled with them, trying to control the sheer power pushing through her.

  Clíodhna cried out as she grabbed the line of power. It slinked out of her grasp like a slippery eel, whipping back and forth with angry strength. When she grasped her hands around it, the white-hot energy burned her skin. She grunted in pain but kept her grip tight. The force of the earth power pulled her off her feet and slammed her into the ground. She let out a breath and remembered they dwelled in her dream.

  Letting out a war cry that would have made her father proud, Clíodhna jerked the power into place, in the center of her being. Clíodhna became a font, a vessel for this monster of power. Now in control, she glanced around for her foe.

  Bodach had disappeared.

  Disgusted by losing her quarry, she sent the earth power back into the land of Faerie. It wouldn’t go. It remained flowing through her, burning her blood with intense and exquisite agony. Again, she wrestled her will against it, pushing it back down, through her torso, her hips, her legs, through her feet and into the ground.

  Finally released from the earth’s power, a cry behind her made her turn to face this new threat. Had she let the power go too soon?

  Oisinne stood before her. Not broken and mad like in the human world, but tall and strong, his eyes twinkling with humor and intelligence. This was the man she’d married. The man she’d defied her own father for, the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love for. The man she’d laid with under the summer sky, making love for hours in sweaty abandon.

  He reached for her, and for a moment, she longed to fall into his arms. She ached for that forgotten magic of young love, that giddiness and glee of discovering each other’s bodies. A flicker of movement on his hand caught her eye, and she spied something beneath the skin. Clíodhna concentrated and the hand became a feral claw, cruel and sharp.

  She jerked away from his grasp and danced back. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your husband, Clíodhna. Do you not know me?”

  Eying the claw, she said, “My husband is sleeping in my house. You are not Oisinne.”

  “But I am. Do you not remember how we met? You looked so tempting, with your black hair loose and long, wet from your bathing.”

  The memory swept through her mind. She’d been bathing in the river, certain she had privacy, when Oisinne had come upon her and stolen her clothing. It had resulted in a merry chase through the woods but she’d caught him. A smile stole upon her face, but she wiped it away.

  “You are not Oisinne.”

  He took a step closer. “I have his body and his memories. Who else would I be?”

  Such an odd phrasing. Clíodhna didn’t trust it, not here in Faerie. Though she didn’t stand in Faerie, did she? She dwelled in a dream of Faerie, an imagination of her own construction. This imagined Oisinne possessed her memory as well.

  She took a further step back and considered drawing again on the earth energy. Whatever this creature might be, she didn’t trust him.

  He laughed. Something in the tone triggered recognition and her blood chilled. She realized now who she faced. “Bodach, go away, I don’t want you in my dream. Begone!”

  “But I want to make love to you like you have with your dear husband. It’s his body, nothing new or unusual. I would taste your sweet nectar, my flower, and enjoy your charms as Oisinne has. As Adhna has. As your pet monk has. You have plenty to sate us all.”

  The earth power hammered at her feet, eager to enter her body once again. Her body tingled with anticipation and desire.

  “If you won’t allow me to taste of your body, Clíodhna, let me swim in your memories. Tell me how Adhna escaped my trap, and I shall let you go free.”

  “Ha! As if I’d believed any offer you gave me, Bodach. Go.”

  “But it’s true, my honeysuckle. Sweet, sweet, Clíodhna. Adhna can’t give you a fraction of the pleasure I can. He’s bound to being kind and gentle. Sometimes gentle is too easy. I can give you intense bliss with just a little pain. All I need is a bit of information, and the ultimate delight is yours.”

  The tingling she’d felt when he touched her before returned, deep within her pelvis, but she called the earth’s energy up instead. This time, she tamped down hard, concentrating on only drawing a bit. In the mortal realm, it had taken all her will to call up even a small amount of power, but in Faerie, that trickle became a rushing river. Blasted by the torrent, she shoved most of it back as she reeled.

  “Do you believe your paltry powers can stop me, Clíodhna? It’s silly of you to try. It would be so much easier to just give me what I want. I promise you won’t regret it. I vow to a fair exchange. Your body craves it. I can taste its desire. It calls to me.”

  He didn’t lie, which came as a horrible realization. Her body ached to embrace him and experience everything he offered. In her dream state, her body took two steps forward, despite her will. Her skin itched for his touch, hot and desperate. Sweat shone on her arms, glistening in the light.

  “Ah, yes, just like that. Come to me, my flower. Let me lick your petals and plunge my stinger inside your—”

  She slammed him with the earth power in the middle of his chest. He stumbled back with a cry of rage.

  “Treacherous human! For that, your children will pay!”

  Clíodhna’s rage burned white-hot at this threat, and she stopped tamping down on the earth’s energy. She pulled on it and blasted him with the light, pushing against him like a raging waterfall until he stumbled back. Further and further, step by step, she pushed Bodach away from her dream-bod
y. “You will not harm my children, do you hear me! Stay away from me, stay away from my family. Stay away from everything I love!”

  Oisinne’s skin melted away, leaving the bark-skinned Bodach she remembered. This form, too, faded away, sparkling into tiny motes and those motes danced into the darkness.

  Another voice echoed in her mind, a kinder, gentler voice. “Clíodhna, you must leave.” This one she recognized. Adhna.

  “Leave where? Here? I’m trying to!”

  “You need to leave your home.”

  “What? I can’t do that! I have to care for Oisinne. Where would I go? Will you get out of my head? I don’t want to talk to nothing.”

  As shining motes danced back from the night, they formed her lover. His mouth curved into a welcoming smile, his arms out. “You look well in your dream-form, Clíodhna.”

  She stepped back. “Are you really Adhna?”

  He dropped his arms. “I am, but I will not make you touch me to verify. However, I cannot stay long. I only came to urge you to leave.”

  Clíodhna bit her lip. “Despite what I said before, I can’t leave, Adhna. I have my children, and Oisinne. And the new one on the way.” She patted her stomach, just beginning to bulge. They both shared a smile.

  “I know it will be dangerous, but the man of the new religion has been gaining power. He will hurt you if you stay. He will hurt your children.”

  She clenched her jaw. “I’ve had just about enough of people threatening my children! Adhna, if you have a solution, I’d like to hear it. Otherwise, you’re throwing water into the wind.”

  “Come to Faerie.”

  She glanced around. “Here? Where Bodach can attack me? I think not.”

  He clasped his hands in front of him and placed his two index fingers on his lips. “I may have a place I can keep you safe. And your children. I might even be able to help Oisinne’s mind.”

  Clíodhna raised her eyebrows and asked, “What sort of place? In the Queen’s Court?”

  His eyes grew wide. “Nothing so grand. A small cottage near a pond. It will be quiet and lonely, but safer.”

  “Safer. Not safe, but safer. I don’t like that, Adhna.”

  “Safer is the best I can offer, Clíodhna. Even that will take all my power and influence, but I can provide a safer place. If you come, however, know this; you will only be able to return once to the mortal world. That visit can be as many winters as you wish, but only one journey back.”

  She lowered her gaze. “I’ll consider it. I’ll come to the stone circle if I agree.”

  He bowed his head, and the motes flew away again, swirling up to form stars in the ink-black sky.

  Chapter Seven

  Clíodhna stumbled out of her dream and back into the mortal realm.

  She startled awake by the crackle of the fire. The glowing coals had burst into a raging hearth fire, the flames reaching for her body. She scrambled back from the hungry, flickering flames and tried to regain her balance, both physical and mental.

  Donn came out, rubbing his eyes. “Ma? Are you still out here? It’s almost dawn.”

  After dusting off her clothing, she stood to face him. “Sorry to wake you, dear. I slept out here but had a bad dream.” Clíodhna considered her eldest son. “Donn, if we left the village, would you be horribly upset?”

  He blinked a few times, still not awake. “Leave? To where?”

  “A friend said he had a safe place for us all. A cottage near a pond.”

  “That Fae friend of yours?”

  Asleep or awake, her son wasn’t stupid. “The same.”

  He bit at his lip, watching the fire. “I don’t know. I enjoyed the classes at the abbey, and don’t want to leave those. But I haven’t been going anyhow, because of your fight with the Abbot.”

  She felt as if Donn had punched her in the gut. “My fight? He tried to take you away from me! How is this my fault?”

  He picked at his fingers. “I don’t blame you, Ma! But if you just acted more like the other mothers, maybe the Abbot wouldn’t be so angry with you all the time.”

  Etromma stumbled out, her hair a tangled mess. “What’s all the shouting about?”

  “Ma here wants us to move away with her lover.”

  Clíodhna rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Donn, and you know it! I’m just trying to find a place that’s safe for all of us.”

  Etromma stared at Donn and then at Clíodhna. “Move away? But Ma, that would mean I’d have to leave Tirechan! You can’t do this to me!”

  After covering her face with her hands, Clíodhna rubbed her skin, trying to dispel the mounting fight before it escalated. “I’m just trying to keep you all safe.”

  Etromma rubbed her arms. “I’ll be plenty safe as Tirechan’s wife.”

  Donn glanced at his sister, nodding. “And I’d be safe in the abbey, as Brother Cronan’s apprentice. I should have a trade other than just fishing, anyhow, don’t you think?”

  Clíodhna glared at her elder children, not wanting to admit they had grown into independent people, with their own thoughts and dreams. She’d have to let them go, and she didn’t want to admit that, even to herself.

  Aileran wailed, his voice piercing the pre-dawn silence. Clíodhna closed her eyes, wishing for a way to start the conversation anew. When she opened her eyes again, a bird darted across the clearing, almost straight at her. She ducked and cursed, then stomped into the roundhouse to comfort her baby.

  She must have dozed. As the sun rose, she rushed out to greet the dawn. She’d neglected such devotions and felt strong guilt for her omission. Almost as if in reaction, the dawn rose deep red, an angry, sullen color. A heavy blanket of dark gray clouds swallowed the sun mere moments after it rose. The air cooled considerably as it disappeared, and she shivered.

  Clíodhna spoke no more of moving to Faerie, but her children whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear. They made plans to escape, either to the blacksmith’s home or to the abbey. Why had she fought so hard to keep her children if they would only leave her at the first sign of trouble? No, she must be fair. They aged fourteen and sixteen winters old, well old enough to be on their own soon. They’d marry off and move in with their spouse soon, regardless of her feud with the Abbot.

  With a sigh, she hugged Aileran more tightly to her bosom. At least she still had one son left, one who would love her a few more seasons yet. Another child on the way, a child of Adhna’s blood. A Fae child.

  Escaping to Faerie seemed a much better prospect than it had before. How would her baby fare in that strange land? She had no way of knowing without going herself. A sound from inside the roundhouse made her guilt bloom again. Her wedded husband moaned. With a sigh, she hefted Aileran into her arms and went to see if Oisinne had woken from her spell yet.

  Her husband still slept, but he tossed and groaned when she approached. Aileran reached for him, but she kept the baby away from his father. “No, dear. Da can’t hold you just now.”

  Clíodhna wondered if she’d ever again trust Oisinne to hold Aileran. Oisinne’s ropes looked loose. She needed to tighten them.

  Her vision grew dizzy and weakness swept over her body. She fell to her knees, crying out in pain from the impact. As she fell, Oisinne sat straight up in bed, looking around with feral eyes, wide and unrecognizable.

  They didn’t have the same knowing evil as when Bodach possessed him in her dream. No, this evil possessed something different. A bestial, barren expression filled with vile hatred which chilled her to her core.

  Scrambling away, she held Aileran far out of reach, but he stalked toward her. She couldn’t get up without dropping the baby, so she kicked at him. Oisinne clawed at her legs, ripping welts in her skin. Clíodhna screamed and pulled on the earth’s power to shove him back, but she’d had no time to prepare. Still weakened from whatever had struck her, the earth only gave her a trickle of energy. The blast shoved Oisinne back a few handspans, but no further.

  “Donn! Etromma!” No one c
ame to her calls or her screams. They must have left after their heated discussion. Curse her for driving her children away! She hated needing help, but fully admitted now that she needed something.

  Oisinne dove for her again, and she planted one foot in his chest. He had too much bulk for her to push away easily, but it kept his fingers from her eyes. He scrabbled at her, unable to get past her leg. She tried to push with the other one but got no purchase while holding the baby.

  Panic rose in her chest. Oisinne got hold of the edge of her léine and ripped, exposing her body. Clíodhna might as well have been a tree stump for all the effect it had on Oisinne. Most men, when confronted with a naked woman, changed their expression. Their scrutiny held some level of leer, even if it also held love. Oisinne gazed upon her only as prey.

  The earth would not obey her command. Should she call the weather into the roundhouse? She must try.

  She called on a gale of wind to blow through the house. At first, only a light breeze answered her command, but as Oisinne’s clawed hands edged closer to her face, her desperation increased her power. A huge gust pushed him back. Not enough to let her escape, but enough for her to get to her feet. He lunged for her legs, wrapping his arms around them, but she scrambled away. If only she’d learned to call the Sluagh Sídhe to help. The wild Fae seemed to like her, but those only appeared when Pátraic had attacked her.

  Clíodhna still had the brooch Adhna had gifted her. Nothing else but her baby mattered. She sprinted for the door, clutching Aileran so tight he bawled in pain and confusion. She had no time to waste comforting him now.

  The morning had come into full bloom as she’d been inside, and she had to blink to adjust her vision. The howl behind her made her turn, anger rising in her blood. How dare her husband attack her? She’d had enough of running for her life.

  Now that she had access to the spirits of the air, she drew down the power from the sky. The clouds roiled in inky blackness, a maelstrom of rage from her mind manifest in the heavens.