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

by Christy Nicholas

  Crunn sat on the shore, which allowed her to sit. “I require no sustenance, but if you would perhaps sing something for me before I leave, I should be most grateful.”

  “Sing? You enjoy songs?”

  His mouth stretched even wider. “It’s my greatest weakness, especially those of mortal women. This has gotten me in much trouble in my life.”

  Wondering idly what might trouble a magical creature made of stone, Clíodhna agreed. “I would love to sing you a song. What news do you bring me?”

  “I have three pieces of news, one for each child. Would you gift me a song for each?”

  “Very well, three songs for three pieces of information.”

  “Your daughter, the one with the death iron man? She has made her vows to him and is with child, as you are.”

  The death iron man? Oh, he must mean the blacksmith. I understand why he would refer to a man who works with iron, deadly to the Fae. Then the import of his words struck her. Etromma married and pregnant! Our babies will be similar in age. But she had so few winters! Wait, what if time had marched faster there?

  “Crunn, how much time has passed in the mortal world since I’ve been here?”

  The stone crunched as his smile slipped. “I am not sure how mortals measure time, nor when you arrived.”

  “We count the winters as one cycle of the seasons. So, when the mortal world grows cold, that’s one. When it becomes spring, then summer, then autumn, and winter again, that’s two.”

  He considered this for some time, touching each of his fingers several times, shaking his head, and trying again. “I do not know.” He hung his head, ashamed of his failure.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Adhna. He’s got a good grasp of mortal time and should be better able to answer. What is your second piece of news?”

  “Your older male child has also vowed, but with the men of the new god. He is a skilled craftsman, and the men sent him away to work on a new stone structure in the north.”

  In the north. Perhaps the same place Odhrán went, to start a new church? Would he remember Odhrán and speak of her? “And your third news?”

  “The baby male child has grown. He seems happy, as he laughs often. He’s become skilled with handling horses, and rides fast and long each day.”

  Aileran riding horses spoke more of the passage of time than any of the other news. If her wee baby, who had just been sucking at her breast a few moons ago by her reckoning, raced horses now, at least ten winters had passed.

  Grief at losing those winters for all her children struck her hard. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she swallowed them down for her guest’s sake. How rude she would be to cry in front of her messenger.

  “I might even have a fourth bit of news.”

  Fourth? Did he speak of Oisinne? Or maybe Odhrán had returned? “Will you take a fourth song for it?”

  With a slow nod, he agreed. “Yes, but it must be a special song. This information was difficult to extract.”

  Intrigued, Clíodhna agreed. “Four songs, with one being extra special.”

  “There is a female in your home. She moved in when you disappeared, and the children moved away. She did not live there before.”

  Not Oisinne, then. “Can you describe the woman?”

  “She has great power. Red hair, strong arms, pale skin, spots on her face.”

  “Freckles, do you mean?” Clíodhna pointed to the ones on her own arm.

  Crunn nodded with such vigor, his chin crackled. “Freckles, yes. She picks herbs and has a cow with red ears.”

  What an odd description. She searched her mind for a memory of such a woman, but didn’t recall ever having met someone like that. With a shake of her head, Clíodhna decided she must have taken over their roundhouse when they’d abandoned it. As peeved as she might be about the theft, she could do little about it, from Faerie.

  Her back ached again, and she groaned when the pain slammed into her spine. Crunn jumped up, his gaze darting around to find the threat.

  “No, nothing attacked me, Crunn. My back hurts, that’s all.”

  “No, no, no! Your child is coming! Your child is coming! I must fetch her! Adhna made me promise I’d fetch her!”

  Before Clíodhna had the chance to ask what in the name of the gods he meant, he ran to the pond and disappeared beneath the surface again. The ripples died as the pain traveled up her spine and down her legs. She stumbled toward the roundhouse, her carving project abandoned. With a great deal of grunting and cursing, she crawled to her pallet and lay down, hoping to relieve some painful pressure on her back. Crunn needed to return so she could pay him with her songs.

  It didn’t help.

  The agony rose along her torso and down her legs, making her feet tingle as if she’d crossed them too long. Her arms burned and sweat dripped from her face. She couldn’t do this alone! Adhna had promised to find a midwife when her time came. Perhaps that’s who Crunn had disappeared to fetch. She hoped so.

  * * *

  Clíodhna didn’t know how long she lay in bouts of aching and panting before someone arrived. Time lost all meaning when each breath came with agonizing pain, a burning throb through her body. No sun meant the afternoon didn’t wane. No birds heralded the dawn. No night clothed the hills in darkness. No relief came to her, despite all her curses, prayers, and pleading.

  When someone darkened the roundhouse door, she blinked several times, certain either her imagination fooled her or some threat arrived she couldn’t battle in her state. A woman stood in silhouette, glaring at her. “You shouldn’t have started this yet, child! Well, done is done. Let me fetch some supplies.” She disappeared again.

  After several minutes, Clíodhna’s certainty that she’d imagined the woman grew. However, she reappeared, this time carrying several bronze cauldrons of water. After depositing them along the wall, she then rifled through Adhna’s things to find several cloths, a strip of old leather, and a meadskin. She handed the last to Clíodhna. “Take a good swig of that, Clíodhna. It will help with the pain.”

  Without questioning the woman or where she’d come from, Clíodhna drank deep of the sweet, potent alcohol. The suffusing warmth through her limbs made her sigh as the pain dimmed. It would come back, but for now, she had a reprieve.

  “Now, let me just get you better situated. Did you just lie down on the bare floor? Tsk, tsk. You’ve had children before. You should know better. Now, a few cushions here, for under your knees, and one under your back. That should help. Doesn’t it help?”

  Clíodhna remained stunned into silence. She didn’t feel at a loss for words often.

  “Oh, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? I’m Brighid, and as you may have gathered, I’m well versed in midwifery. You might even say I’m an expert.” Brighid let out a deep, loud laugh at her own quip.

  Brighid. As in the goddess of healing? Clíodhna narrowed her eyes at the woman.

  “Yes, the very same. You needn’t glare at me, young lady. I know who you are and what you’ve done and who you’re to be. At the moment, though, none of that matters. What matters now is that child you’re about to bear. We shall bring him into this world as quickly and cleanly as we might. It’s not every day a Fae has a child!”

  Brighid examined her by peering between her legs, probing with her fingers, pressing against her belly, and mumbling under her breath. “No, that’s not right. Danú take it, I’ll need to turn the stubborn child before he hurts himself.”

  A sprite flew in, took in the scene, and flitted out again. Another followed, then three more. The small roundhouse buzzed with Fae creatures, their sharp little beetle wings clicking and rattling so loud, Clíodhna covered her ears.

  “Out! Out, the lot of you! I have work to do. Now, Clíodhna, sip this tea. It will help relax your muscles.”

  She struggled to sit up, but Brighid held her down. “No, don’t rise. I’ll pour it in your mouth. Don’t worry, it’s no longer scalding hot.”

  The warm liquid dribbled
in her mouth and she coughed, choking on it before she mastered the trick of swallowing it as it poured. She jerked, causing more to spill from the cup and almost drowning her.

  “Not so much, child! This is potent magic! Ah well, done is done.”

  Within a few moments, her muscles eased and melted within her body. Clíodhna’s vision grayed to a pleasant fuzziness. She drifted on the cloud of whimsy, musing she might sleep for eternity.

  “Now, with what little will you might have left, I want you to push. The babe is ready to crown soon and needs a bit of help to finish the journey.”

  Clíodhna tried to strain, familiar with the routine, but her muscles refused to cooperate.

  “Oh, I might have given you too much. Never mind, it will wear off soon enough. Try again.”

  Strain as she might, her body ignored her attempts.

  “Danú take it, that baby is ready to come. I must do this myself. Be still.” Brighid placed her hands over Clíodhna’s taut belly, a warm magic suffusing the skin and sinking into her. The moan this time came from pleasure and delight, rather than pain. Inside, the warmth felt delicious, like a summer swim in the hot sun.

  The baby moved, turning and twisting inside her. The pain dulled, flying away on the clattering wings of a Fae sprite. She let out a long, low sigh at the release.

  “Ah yes, much better. Now the babe is ready to come out. Can you push yet?”

  She tried, but her muscles remained in languid repose, refusing to obey her commands.

  “Very well. Let’s try something else.”

  Once again, Brighid laid her hands on Clíodhna’s belly, but lower this time. The babe moved, pulsing like a heartbeat closer to her cleft. Once, twice, thrice, his head stretched her wide. Once, twice, thrice, the pain of the taut skin made her scream. Once, twice, thrice, her scream died into a whimper. Again and again, Brighid coaxed the child out of her womb, but the baby refused to get past a certain point.

  Adhna arrived at that point, frantic and desperate eyes darting everywhere. “What can I do? How can I help?”

  “You can help by getting out of here. Wait, have you any seaweed?”

  “Seaweed? Why would I have seaweed?”

  “Never mind. Get more water.”

  He scowled, eyeing the cauldrons. “You have plenty of water.”

  “Go get more! I need you out of my hair. I’m busy enough without babysitting a panicked father. Shoo!”

  With a longing glance at Clíodhna and a blown kiss, he ran out of the roundhouse. Clíodhna still floated on her relaxing cloud and didn’t care. All that mattered now was the sweet relief from pain.

  Once, twice, thrice, Brighid pulled the baby closer to birth. This time, however, his head crowned and the rest of the body slipped after.

  “Another few pushes for the afterbirth, my dear. There we go. Much better, no? A wee, fine lad you’ve borne. Have you decided on a name?”

  Her son’s thin squalls filled the room, tugging her back from her cloud-dream. “Rumann. Adhna and I decided on Rumann.”

  “Rumann it is. A good, strong name for the youngling. He may not become a hero, but he will father a few, I’ll tell you that. You’ve started a good legacy here, Clíodhna.”

  Eager to hold her baby, she stretched out her arms. Brighid cleaned and swaddled the babe after cutting his cord and placed him in her eager embrace. He nuzzled her, searching for his first meal. She wouldn’t have milk yet, but the clear milk should come. He sucked for a few moments before falling asleep against her sweaty skin.

  Her own consciousness slipped away as she tried to make sense of the goddess’ last words.

  After endless darkness, something nuzzled her elbow. Clíodhna shifted to her side, and the seeker latched onto her breast, hard. She yelped and her eyes flew wide. Memory of the difficult birth, Brighid’s help, and her Rumann returned, and her expression softened to pure love. While cradling the soft skull with downy fuzz with her hand, she took a deep breath, smelling the sweet scent of baby.

  Such a simple pleasure, forgotten as the child grew from milky fragrance to the odors of an active child.

  A sprite flitted into the roundhouse and out again. It must have been keeping watch as Adhna appeared shortly thereafter. “Are you rested, Clíodhna? What can I get you?”

  “You can help me stand, Adhna. My bladder is about to burst!”

  With a chuckle, he took Rumann from her arms and helped her to the basket of sand, steadying her when her knees wobbled. It must have been a while since she’d stood. Thus relieved, she hobbled back to the bed, but didn’t want to lie down again. Yes, she remained tired, but she must get up and do things to regain her strength. She’d done so after each child, and she meant to repeat the habit.

  Rumann grunted, searching Adhna’s léine for milk. She laughed as Adhna’s expression turned to alarm and confusion, his eyes growing wide. “Here, let me take him back. You can hold him after he’s fed and been changed.”

  With great reluctance, he surrendered his son. His smile grew so sweet, her heart ached for him. This must be his first child, to be so entranced, but then she remembered her dream, the Fae who claimed to be Adhna’s daughter. “Have you never had a child, Adhna?”

  He let out a deep sigh. “Not that I know of. Most Fae have a very difficult time with it, though we live very long lives compared to mortals. Maybe once in five hundred of your winters, we’ll sire a child.”

  This time her eyes grew wide. “Five hundred winters! Adhna, how old are you?”

  He laughed, stroking her hair, which only made her realize how badly she wanted to bathe. “Not so long, love. Merely a hundred for me so far. I’m but a child by Fae standards.”

  A hundred winters. Clíodhna only numbered a few over thirty, and she felt wise in the ways of the world. Her world, perhaps. But Faerie worked in strange ways, and their ways remained alien. If she would thrive here, she’d have to learn those ways. More so, she must master them.

  She glanced at Rumann. “As my son grows, we will both have to teach him. Can we teach him the Fae magic, do you think?”

  “It depends on if he has the aptitude, but the odds are great. He’s more than half-blood. Even if he shows no affinity for the wild magic, his children might.”

  Clíodhna remembered Brighid’s words about Rumann not being a hero and pressed her lips together. She’d prove the goddess wrong and teach her son everything he needed to be a great man. First, she needed to learn. “You can begin by teaching me, then.”

  He gave her a half-smile, melting her heart. “You? What would you like to know?”

  “I want to meet the different sorts of Fae. Talk to them. Work with them. I want to learn air magic as you’ve taught me earth magic. Fire magic. Water magic. Spirit magic. I want to be in command of my powers, not subject to their whims.”

  “Slow down, Clíodhna. That’s a tall order. Why have you not asked for this before?”

  She patted her still distended belly. “I had other priorities. Now the babe is born and healthy, I must move forward. For his sake and my own.”

  With a chuckle, Adhna hugged her around the shoulders, planting a kiss on Rumann’s forehead. The boy gurgled but didn’t stop feeding. “Very well. I shall invite some marsh Fae here and we will learn what we can of their ways. There are many types of wild Fae that would be your friend, and many others you must approach with extreme caution. Their loyalties may not always rely on the type of Fae, but the influence of a particular Fae Lord.”

  Clíodhna’s blood chilled. “Like Bodach?”

  “Exactly like Bodach. He exerts a great deal of influence throughout the Fae communities, and with the Queen’s court.”

  Curiosity burst within Clíodhna’s imagination. “What is Queen Áine like? What is her court like?”

  Adhna held out his hands, palms down. “Not yet. We don’t dare approach the Queen until Rumann is older. We must ensure his safety before all else, do you not agree?”

  The idea of meeting the Queen b
oth terrified and excited her. “But how can I protect myself from Bodach if I don’t have the Queen’s help?”

  “There is no true protection from Bodach, Clíodhna”

  She gave a reluctant nod. Rumann must be safe. But how could meeting the Queen be so dangerous? Would Adhna even be able to arrange a meeting?

  Whenever Rumann fell asleep, Adhna summoned another Fae to meet Clíodhna. A series of sprites, pukis, grugachann; spirits of the pond, the grasses, the rolling hills, and the roundhouse itself. Each one came to her and told her their story, their hopes and dreams. She shared with them her own tale and made many friends.

  Some frightened her by their grotesque appearances. Others took her breath away with sheer splendor. Each one possessed unique powers, personalities, and loyalties.

  She worked to gain the trust of the marsh Fae and some wild Fae. Clíodhna enjoyed having more friends than she’d ever had in her life before, living in a small village. Now she had visitors throughout each day, singing to her and playing with her hair, amusing Rumann with their antics.

  Between visits, and when he didn’t have duties for the Queen, she shared Adhna’s bed. While he still taught her magic, they no longer shared a student and teacher relationship. Having a child together cemented their partnership far better than any earthly vows. They lived and loved and laughed together as time passed and Rumann grew.

  Crunn returned to collect his payments, and after her first song, her audience grew. The creatures listened with rapt attention to her human voice. She would in no way compete with the perfection of Fae voices, but her human mistakes somehow made the songs more interesting to the lesser Fae. Her imperfections flavored it with intrigue.

  One day, she played with Rumann while Adhna had left on an errand for their Queen. She lifted him up high to his delighted giggle and swung him low in a slow arc. He grabbed at the sprite who flitted out of his reach, but the sprite flew too fast.

  A pond naiad, covered in green and blue scales, approached her, wringing her hands. The worry lines in her face spoke of obvious distress. “My mistress, I need some help! My baby is caught in the reeds and they won’t let her go!”