She scanned the area, noting a wide marsh with several bedraggled weeds poking out of hummocks and some skeletal branches without leaves along the edge. “I do. It looks rather gloomy.”
“Exactly. It used to be a cheerful place, with marsh Fae thriving amongst the reeds. It’s become a dead zone now. Bodach comes here to pluck the magic from the land, and the dead area is growing each time.
“Pluck the magic? What do you mean?”
“When one draws upon land magic, the way we do naturally, and the way some humans do, they always take what they need and return the rest to the land. That way it replenishes, grows, and thrives. Bodach has not returned the magic. He’s found a way of hoarding the magic so he can use it later.”
As she considered this odd concept, something sounded in the distance, like a hunting horn. She turned to see what new problem she’d have to deal with but saw nothing but mist on the horizon. “Did you hear that?”
Cionnan looked even more nervous than before, his gaze darting back and forth between the marsh and her. “What? I’m not sure what you mean, my lady.”
“Stop calling me my lady. A horn of some sort.”
“A horn?” he stared into the mist. “It may be someone come to take more of our land magic, my lady. We need your help to defend it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you, I don’t have the power to protect you against Bodach. You’ve asked the wrong person. Even Adhna told you that.”
The horn sounded again, closer.
Clíodhna had a bad feeling about that horn, and her presence in this swamp. She looked around for the path they came in on, but the mist rolled in so fast, it obscured everything around them. “Cionnan, I shouldn’t be here. Please, take me back to my roundhouse. Now.”
He shook his stone head, his expression obstinate. “No, my lady, you need to defend us! You’re the only one we trust!”
More Fae surrounded them now, melting out of the mist. They milled around with anxious frowns and pushed in around her. A third horn blow. Much closer. “Son of a diseased donkey! You’ll get me killed, instead. Cionnan! Which way home?”
Hoof beats rang out on the stone path. Mist parted to reveal Queen Áine, dressed in curvilinear-decorated bronze armor, Bodach riding by her side. The magnificent white horse she rode wore elaborate barding in brilliant white and blue.
Now the Queen pulled her mount up next to Clíodhna. The Fae surrounding her pushed back but didn’t make way for their Queen. “What is occurring here?”
Clíodhna raised her chin. “I apologize, my Queen. Cionnan asked me to come see his home, but I discovered I’m in the way of some ceremony. I shall leave.” She bowed and backed away.
“Halt! Do not move. Cionnan, come forth.”
The stone Fae came forward on his knees, his head bowed.
“Why have you lured my handmaiden into the wilds of Faerie? What game do you play?”
“Nothing, my Queen. We meant no harm, I swear it!”
Adhna came running up behind the host, out of breath and streaming sweat. “My Queen! My Queen, I tried to catch you at the palace… Clíodhna? What are you doing here? I told you to leave Cionnan alone!”
The Queen glared at Adhna, then Cionnan, and Clíodhna, in turn. Her face twisted into an angry frown and cast a sidelong glance at Bodach. “The wild Fae and the marsh Fae have formed a revolt, and I don’t have time to discover what mischief they’ve created here. Adhna, I have another mission for you, now. Clíodhna, you’re to return to Adhna’s home and remain there with no exception, until I send for you. Cionnan, report to the palace.”
She wheeled her horse around and galloped back the way she came. Bodach shot a knowing grin toward Clíodhna, raised his eyebrows, and followed her. When both left the path, Adhna let out his breath. “You heard the Queen, all of you. Especially you, Clíodhna. Did I not ask you to stay home? Now this… I’m unsure what this will mean when she returns. Go home, rest well, and stay safe. I will not be here to protect you from her wrath this time, but Grimnaugh will stay with you.”
He rode off in a different direction and the mist swallowed his form. When he disappeared, Clíodhna let out her own breath. What had she gotten herself into now?
Clíodhna allowed one of the other Fae to lead her home, but her mind remained numb from the incident. She couldn’t even fathom what the Queen would do now. Now she must wait.
She’d never been very good at waiting.
Part III
Chapter Ten
She paced back and forth in front of the roundhouse for a while, then shifted to walking around the pond. Marsh claimed the far end, so she couldn’t even do a full satisfactory circle route. Instead, she must either detour around the marshy part, or turn back and do most of a circle in each direction. This barrier interrupted her flow and caused her irritation to rise.
Why had she been so stupid? While haring off to help the Fae seemed well enough, she realized how it might seem to usurp the Queen’s power over her own folk. A thousand times, she practiced her explanation to the Queen. A thousand times she rejected the practiced words and started over.
“My Queen, I merely wanted to help a friend…”
“My Queen, how could I say no? He asked so nicely.”
“My Queen, I wanted to save you the burden of such annoyance.”
That last sounded so ridiculous, Clíodhna broke a branch off a bush and flung it into the pond, watching the ripples fan out from the surface. The ripples soothed her frustration, to a point. She repeated the gesture several times before noticing how denuded the bush now looked. Chagrined at her anger and destruction, she let out a sigh. While sitting cross-legged next to the bush, she pulled energy up from the ground. She’d forgotten how strong the magic flowed in Faerie, and for a moment, wrestled with the power. However, she’d only pulled a small tendril and she directed it properly, healing the torn branches. As she did so, the bush sang back to her in thanks, its melody entwining with her memory and imagination.
Once Clíodhna healed the raw, broken branches, she rose and returned to the roundhouse. If she couldn’t trust herself not to visit damage upon the beings of Faerie, she had no business tramping around with angry frustration. Instead, she should do as she was bid for once, and wait for the Queen to return.
She detested waiting.
She ate and slept several times, but no Fae visited her. They must all be cowering in their homes as she did, terrified of the Queen’s wrath. Clíodhna didn’t blame them. The Queen commanded more power than any of them combined, with the notable exception of her top courtiers.
Grimnaugh visited her, but he never stayed long. He had other duties, he said, administrative duties that kept him running this way and that. Still, she treasured his visits as interludes in the interminable waiting.
Clíodhna carved to pass the time. Soon she amassed a growing pile of carved wooden figures: fish, birds, Fae, even a complex interwoven knot along a curved branch. That last took the longest, but she felt great pride in the creation. She still didn’t have Donn’s innate talent, but she exhibited some craft.
The reminder of her missing children—Donn, Etromma, Aileran, and wee Rumann—stabbed to her heart.
What might each of them be doing this very moment, in the mortal world? Etromma must have borne her child. Did she have a boy or a girl? Did Donn work for the monks, carving beautiful stone sculptures for their buildings? She ached to see him and his work. Did Aileran still love riding horses? Did Rumann learn how to fish like his adopted father?
What sort of people had they grown into without their mother or father to guide them? Would she ever see them again?
Adhna told her she might visit the mortal realm once more, and she wouldn’t waste that opportunity. When the time came, she’d travel back and see each of her children.
When would the time be right? What if the Queen decided Clíodhna betrayed her, and executed her? She considered returning to the mortal world now, to escape the Queen’s uncertain jud
gment. That way, she might live the rest of her life amongst her children, away from the machinations of this back-stabbing Faerie court. She rose, meaning to pack some supplies and do just that.
She sat again, dropping her face into her hands with a new sob. Clíodhna didn’t know how to return to her own world, not without guidance from Adhna or Grimnaugh. She’d been well trapped in her own misery.
Clíodhna felt utterly alone at this moment. The weight of that loneliness pressed hard upon her soul.
The tears burst forth from her in a flood, with such violence she didn’t even bother to wipe them from her face. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she sobbed, her arms curled around her shoulders as she rocked back and forth.
She cried for what seemed like hours after that, soaking the half-carved dolphin in her hands so badly, the wood swelled out of proportion of the figurine.
Clíodhna tossed it aside when she recovered. She didn’t have the heart to finish that carving now.
Just as she threw it into the pond, footsteps made her turn. Grimnaugh walked down the path, his head bowed and his feet dragging as if the weight of two worlds rested upon his shoulders. Every line of his body spoke of weary dread. “Grimnaugh? What’s happened? Has the Queen returned?”
He lifted his head, but his eyes looked red and swollen. “She has returned. Yes, our Queen has returned. Forever.”
* * *
Clíodhna stood in a plain snow-white léine in a line of other courtiers. Each one dressed in simple garb, solemn and respectful, as the Queen’s funeral bower approached.
Eight white horses, perfectly matched, drew the white sledge. Lesser Fae marched behind, strewing white petals like stars into the air. The petals glowed and swirled in a slow dance, caressing her body in a curvilinear pattern. They drifted up into the sky, almost like the stars in the mortal realm, into the dim ambient light.
Cerul walked beside the sledge, as did Bodach and several other higher courtiers.
A line of mourning Fae, each with faces as still as stone, marched in step behind the Queen. Fae from the upper echelons of power down to the lowest of the lesser Fae. Fae from the realms of man, Fae from water, earth, sky, and land. The Fae of modern stone houses and ancient stone circles. Fae so beautiful it made your heart sore just to glimpse them, and Fae so horrific, nightmares screamed in the back of the mind.
Other than the sound of footfalls and horse hooves, dead silence accompanied the procession. No singing, no music, no whispers marred this silent spectacle.
Clíodhna hadn’t been able to find out what killed the Queen, only that she’d fallen in battle. Queen Áine rode out with a host to punish the wild and marsh Fae. They’d revolted against her rule, and Clíodhna’s guilt over her involvement in that rebellion clambered against her conscience.
As she noticed both marsh and wild Fae amongst the mourners, though, that particular question must be settled. Had they hated their own Queen so much? A few of her recent decisions were unpopular, but to commit regicide seemed a horrible crime. Even in the human world, to betray one’s Chief must be punished with death. A Faerie betrayal must be so much worse.
Perhaps the Queen’s host killed the leaders in the battle, and those who fought under them were either pardoned or given a lesser punishment for their actions. She might never know. Her heart ached for those she’d befriended and hoped her actions hadn’t been part of their decision to rebel.
As the sledge passed her, she searched for something within the Queen’s still face. Not sure what she looked for, she found nothing. As her gaze moved from the Queen to the next being, she met Bodach’s eyes. Though his face remained solemn, his eyes danced with anticipatory glee.
Clíodhna’s temper seethed at that brief glimpse into his eyes. He knew something. Perhaps he even made this happen. She wanted to ask Grimnaugh, but she must remain silent until the Queen’s interment finished.
Through the gardens behind the palace, and up to a tall hill, the procession marched. The stone bower, surrounded by beautiful flowers and graceful willow trees, lay open and waiting to receive its occupant.
When the courtiers laid the Queen within and sealed the top with the heavy stone slab, all the Fae let out a final sigh. Upon the strength of that sigh, a rare wind blew within the land of Faerie. The gale fluttered the clothing of all present and made the leaves shake.
A wall of pressure pushed out from the stone grave, invisible yet unmistakable. It shoved against each of the attendees, tingling power through their bodies. Clíodhna gasped as it flushed through her, invigorating her with energy and pain.
Her hands throbbed and her head pounded. She pushed her palms against her forehead, but nothing abated the ache. With a sob, she ran down the hill, disregarding all protocol and etiquette. Grimnaugh called after her, but she must not remain in that place. She needed to escape.
Down the hill she ran, dodging lesser Fae who still walked at the tail end of the procession. She ran until her legs ached, her feet throbbed, and her lungs burned. She ran blindly, without direction or purpose, just away from whatever exploded from the Queen’s tomb.
When she reached the lazy creek encircling the palace, she collapsed to the ground, her body craving a drink. With cupped hands, she slurped several handfuls of sweet water into her parched throat. The liquid dribbled down her throat, bringing her voice back to life and she closed her eyes in sheer pleasure before emerging once again.
Her head still ached, but at least now her mind worked. What came from the tomb? Some spell, perhaps? A final death curse from the Queen? Some shifting in the magic of Faerie? She didn’t know, and didn’t wish to find the answer.
A presence at her back halted her musings. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to face anyone, not right now. Not until she gained more control over her thoughts. She craved Adhna’s return. Maybe Grimnaugh had caught up with her, despite his short legs.
Clíodhna glanced up to find who stood behind her, only to find Bodach grinning down at her with wry amusement. Her skin pebbled and she swallowed, wishing she’d drunk more water.
“You seem out of sorts, sweet Clíodhna. Let me help you to the palace.” He reached down for her hand, but she snatched it out of his grasp.
“I have no business there now. With the Queen’s death, I am no longer a handmaiden. I shall wait for Grimnaugh to take me back to Adhna’s roundhouse.”
“You are correct. You are no longer the Queen’s handmaiden. Instead, you are so much more.”
She tried to gather her scattered thoughts. “You aren’t making sense. Go away. I don’t want you near me.”
His smile widened into an exultant joy. “But I must be near you, my Queen. My place is to be forever by your side from this day on. I’m now your consort.”
Stunned by Bodach’s declaration, Clíodhna allowed him to help her to her feet. Cerul ran up, out of breath. The tall Fae glared at Bodach but didn’t interfere. A few courtiers arrived, each one glancing between each other, trying to figure out what happened next. Bodach clutched Clíodhna’s hand and drew her toward the palace. She resisted, but no strength remained to fight against him.
Step by step, the palace grew closer, looming taller above her. The previously light, soaring towers and arches now grew sinister, dark and foreboding despite the glittering white stone with specks of blue.
Courtiers fell into step behind them, creating an informal procession into the palace. The new Faerie Queen and her court.
Clíodhna didn’t understand how. She was human, not Fae. Sure, Adhna mentioned she possessed Fae blood, thus explaining her ability to perform magic, but a Queen must need to be full-blooded Fae, not part human.
The thoughts and contradictions whirled in her mind and the impact from the Queen’s magic on the hill kept her from being able to make sense out of them. They danced and swirled, not allowing her to settle on one spot and untangle the mess.
Clíodhna no longer controlled her own body. As soon as Bodach took her hand, he exer
ted his will over her. She’d no time to build up any defenses, as Adhna had taught her. Bodach’s will made her feet take each step forward.
Step by step toward the palace.
They entered the main archway, and many Fae now lined the halls, bowing as she walked by. Bodach kept a firm grip on her hand, pulling her along as if they walked as equals.
Step by step toward the throne.
The hallway dimmed as she passed, the light focusing on her. Did Cerul have control over that or did some ambient, low-key magic work as part of the palace itself? The throne looked wicked as they grew closer, its bare branches entwined in a hopeless knot, eager to reach out and catch her clothing, her tender skin, to pull her into its clutches.
Inside, unable to make a sound, she screamed. Her face remained still and yet her mind gibbered in fear. She shouldn’t be here! This wasn’t her place!
She glimpsed green skin to her left. Grimnaugh caught up to them. He seemed both panicked and hopeful. She grasped a modicum of peace in that assessment.
They climbed the dais and when she turned to sit on the throne, Bodach held her hand tight. “Wait, my Queen. The proprieties must be observed at all times.”
Clíodhna froze, casting around for any sign of what came next. She still couldn’t move her body. Could she speak? She cleared her throat, testing her ability. After darting her eyes to the right to see if Bodach paid attention, she tried a whisper. “Adhna, where are you?”
Bodach squeezed her hand tight, her bones crunching under the painful pressure. He hissed under his breath. “You are not to speak, my Queen. Do you understand?”
She hissed back, infusing her anger into her words. “If I am Queen, I may do as I please.”
“You are only Queen by my power and support. I am the most powerful Fae remaining, even including your beloved Adhna. My place will be by your side as consort, and you will do what I say. If you take one step out of line of my commands, your children will suffer for it. And yes, I know where all four now reside in the mortal world. Pay heed, my Queen, and do nothing, and I mean nothing, but obey me.”
Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 Page 22