Heart of the Druid Laird

by Barbara Longley

  “You…you sent the blizzard?”

  “I did, and I tried to put your plane down in the middle of an ocean. If it hadn’t been for that damned Druid, you’d still be snowed in all safe and sound, or bobbing around in a raft. You have him to thank for your visit.”

  Swallowing her fear, Sidney turned toward Áine as if merely curious. “What does this place look like for real?”

  With another wave of Áine’s hand, the landscape shimmered and melted away, changing to an endless gray mist swirling and undulating as if alive. Sidney’s skin prickled with unease, and she was glad the dismal stuff stayed on the outside of the temple.

  “Some call this place Avalon. The realm is ours to shape as we wish.” Áine’s voice was tinged with pride. “Without our magic, there is nothing.”

  “That’s sad.” And empty like Áine’s heart. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “To keep my curse intact, of course. Dermot forced my daughter to forsake her birthright to marry him. He swore to protect her and failed. Immortality is the perfect punishment.”

  “No one forced Mairéad into anything. She chose freely, and marrying Dermot was her idea, not his.” Sidney paced the inside perimeter of the temple, conscious that it, like everything else, had no real substance. “When Dermot and his men swore to protect your daughter, did you give up responsibility for her altogether? You’re the one with all the super powers, right? You could’ve saved her and your grandchild. Why didn’t you?”

  “None of this is your concern.”

  “If it didn’t concern me, you wouldn’t have brought me here.” For some unfathomable reason, she felt driven to push Áine. “The night Mairéad was murdered, as I understand it, you were summoned. Dermot’s pleas for your help were so loud the whole clan heard them. What were you doing that was so much more important than saving your only daughter’s life?” Sidney tried to keep her face a neutral mask despite her mounting terror. “It’s hard to believe you cared enough about her to hold a grudge all this time, but you were a no-show when Mairéad needed you the most.”

  The mist outside the structure darkened and took on a greenish hue. Swirling violently, flashes of light, like lightning, illuminated the depths. Áine’s anger was unmistakable. Sidney sucked in a deep breath. Thirteen men depended upon her to end their immortality. The only weapon she had in her arsenal was persuasion.

  “Dermot and his men didn’t deserve to be cursed.” Sidney used a soothing tone, treading carefully. “Please, Áine, give them back their lives. They deserve happiness, friends, families—all the things that have been taken from them. Remove the curse. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Give them back…?” Áine’s shrill laughter caused the mist to leap and spin. “He hasn’t told you, has he? Don’t you know what Dermot wants more than anything?” She circled Sidney, her face a vicious mask. “He craves a mortal death like an addict craves drugs. Once the curse is lifted, the years will catch up with Dermot and his men. All of them will turn to dust.”

  The blood left her head in a rush, and she reached out to support herself against one of the columns. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re lying. Dermot would’ve told me.”

  “Why would he have told you?” Áine’s eyes narrowed. She took Sidney’s chin in her hand, forcing her to meet her gaze. “You mean nothing to him, human, just like you meant nothing to him when you were my daughter.” Her expression triumphant, she chortled. “All he wants is to beat me at my own game. He cannot. I’ve seen to that.”

  Sidney jerked away and averted her gaze. Was it true? Why hadn’t Dermot told her the end of the curse meant an end to his life? Maybe he feared she wouldn’t help him if she knew. She wanted to curl up on the stone floor and cry but wouldn’t give this evil creature the satisfaction.

  “Foolish girl.” Áine’s voice dripped with derision. “He will never give you what you desire the most. My daughter gave up immortality for him. She believed he’d give her his heart in return. He never did, and now you’ve placed yourself in the same unhappy bind.” Áine shook her head and tsked. “Poor little lovesick human. You’d do anything for him wouldn’t you, and what does he offer in return? Has he told you he loves you? Has he given you his heart?”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Sidney gritted out. Dermot’s words reverberated through her soul. I have nothing to offer. He’d tried to warn her. He’d said he wanted her, needed her, but he’d never mentioned loving her. All along he’d known they’d only have this one week. She would’ve willingly given him whatever he wanted, and then she’d be left alone to grieve. Mairéad’s pain and her own merged into one, and the old wound inside her soul bled profusely.

  “Of course it’s my business,” Áine taunted. “I knew the moment you slept with the Druid. I’ve watched you from the very beginning.”

  “Dermot will come for me.”

  “Let him try,” Áine snapped. “Our realm is sealed to all but our own kind, and the Druid doesn’t know the way in. Besides, even if he were able to enter, his magic is no match for mine.”

  Sidney wrapped her arms around herself and fought to maintain control. “You make my skin crawl.”

  Áine raised her hand as if to strike her, stopping midswing. “You have chosen.” She smirked. “A miserable stay it is.”

  With that, she disappeared, leaving Sidney alone and terrified. The mist outside her island of cold stone settled back to swirling, gray nothingness. Sidney sank to the floor and leaned against a column. She rested her forehead on her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. What would happen to her? Images of her mother, David and Zoe flashed through her mind. Closing her eyes tight against the pain, she wondered if she’d ever see them again.

  What business did she have being in the middle of this bizarre game of capture the flag? She wasn’t Mairéad any longer. She had her own life and her own family. Angry, hopeless tears slid down her cheeks as she choked on the unfairness of her situation. She’d probably die in this wretched place, and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do about it.

  Dermot searched his shelves for the books he needed. At one time in their shared history, the Tuatha Dé Danann mentored the Druids. They were the ones who had taught the Druids how to control and manipulate the elements to perform magic. None knew the priests had secretly written down everything they’d learned about the Tuatha. Dermot had kept the knowledge safe, copying the books in his own careful hand as the centuries threatened to destroy them. He’d taken painstaking measures to preserve the knowledge, and now he knew why—Sidney needed him. He’d kept it all for her.

  He carried the stack of books to his work table and had just sat down to begin the search when someone dared to knock. “What now?” he shouted.

  Thomas opened the door, careful to stay in the hall. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find a way into their realm. That’s the easy part. The hard part will be getting Sidney out.”

  “How can I help?”

  “You can cease being such an arse.” He kept his attention on the information before him. “That would be a great help.”

  “Aye, what else?” Thomas took a step forward.

  Dermot rubbed his aching head. For as long as they’d held the castle, he’d never allowed anyone else into his stillroom. First Sidney had breached it, and now Thomas. What did it matter anymore? All was as good as lost without Sidney, and with her, he had less than forty-eight hours left to live.

  “Come in.” Dermot lifted one of the books from the table and handed it to Thomas. “Take this book and begin searching for any mention of Áine. Each of the goddess Danu’s direct descendants has their own personal domain within Avalon. Áine will have taken Sidney to hers, certain I won’t be able to get to her. They don’t know about these books, and she canna spy on me in this room. The walls are lined with iron under the drywall and paneling.”

  He’d even had the windows infused with particles of the only substance impenetrable to the Tuath
a Dé Danann. Long ago he’d learned not to depend upon spells to protect his sanctuary. Given enough time, Áine always managed to unravel them, and he grew tired of always having to come up with a new spell once the old spell had been dismantled.

  Thomas pulled a stool over, took the book and settled himself at the table. “How will you enter?”

  Dermot ran his finger down the page before him. “Once I find a reference to her dwelling, I’ll think of something. If I can get into their realm, I believe I’ll be able to pick up Áine’s trace. I’ll try to follow, and if it’s no’ possible, I’ll search for her home.”

  “I’ll go with you. You’ll need someone to protect your back.”

  He knew this was Thomas’s way of apologizing. “Nay. Without Druidic training it would be impossible. Dagda Mór has sealed the way to humans. I would not attempt it at all if I didn’t possess magic. It’s too dangerous. It may be that I can only send part of myself.”

  Thomas shuddered. “How will that help Sidney?”

  “The faerie realm is a void dimension. The Tuatha shape their reality by projecting their will upon their surroundings. Once there, I’m hoping I can do the same. I will try to project myself into physical form.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Are you here to help, or to annoy?” he snapped. “If I’m no’ able to take physical form, I’ll think of something else.”

  Thomas shook his head. “Druidy hocus-pocus,” he muttered. “Void dimensions. It gives me the willies.”

  “Aye, Druid magic.” He spared a moment to fix his gaze on his cousin. “Given to us by the Tuatha Dé Danann. Thank the gods, for without that magic, we’re lost.”

  “If you possess so much knowledge of their race, why haven’t you found a cure for immortality that didn’t involve turning to dust?”

  “I tried.” He shook his head. “It’s a secret they guard well, which makes little sense since their cure does no’ work for those of their race who are pure-blooded.” Dermot turned a page and continued scanning. “Mairéad told me their mages created the elixir of life for their journey here. They never intended to remain immortal. It was only after they landed on earth that they learned the antidote is useless to them.”

  “I knew it. I knew they came from some other planet. I can’t wait to tell Zoe.” Their eyes met, and a moment of understanding flowed between them. “You love her, don’t you, Dermot?”

  “How I feel about Sidney does no’ matter.”

  “Maybe if we put our heads together, we can find a way to end the curse and stay alive. Is there a faerie amongst them who might be open to bribery?”

  “What do we have to offer as a bribe? Whatever they want, they create for themselves.”

  “Aye, but Áine’s clan isn’t the only one. We could appeal to another—a faerie from a clan with a grudge against her maybe. There must be more than a few of those about, given her personality,” he muttered.

  “I thought of that, but once Áine took Sidney, everything changed.”

  Thomas shoved away from the table and stood. “I won’t take the antidote.”

  “There is no way out from under this for either of us, Thomas. If we managed to best Áine, do you think she’d let us live to tell the tale? And what if we do refuse the antidote? Immortality is only the perfect punishment so long as she believes we want death. If Áine discovers how you feel about Zoe, or that Sidney has captured my heart when her own daughter couldn’t…” He swallowed hard. “Sidney is in danger, and I’d gladly give her up along with my life to see her safe.” Dermot returned his attention to the book in front of him. “Sit back down and search. Our time grows short.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hundreds of references to Áine, and none concerned her personal domain. Dermot’s eyes grew weary from speed reading, and with each passing minute his heart grew heavier. Only two books remained in the pile. He got up to stretch his stiff muscles.

  “It’s hard to believe the same creature who cursed us was once known as the goddess of love,” Thomas murmured.

  “Aye. That was before our time and before Christianity spread.” Dermot sat back down at the table. “The Tuatha Dé Danann have nothing to do anymore but engage in intrigues in their own court.”

  “How can Dagda Mór be unaware of Áine’s transgressions? She hid Sidney from you, and now she’s taken her into the Mists of Avalon right under his nose. Surely if he’s forbidden humans to enter, he’d sense her presence.”

  “You assume he cares. Why should he? He’s never been one to involve himself in our affairs. Once he set the conditions for ending the curse, as far as he was concerned his part was finished. Besides, Áine is very canny. She may have found a way to disguise Sidney’s presence from him, at least temporarily. I’m certain she’s covered her tracks well.” He spared a look for Thomas. “As Dagda Mór’s daughter, perhaps Áine believes their laws do no’ apply to her. Maybe she’s right.”

  Thomas slumped over his book and went back to reading. Dermot rolled his shoulders, relieving some of the tension that had gathered there. The clock on the mantel ticked away the minutes, the sound a constant reminder that time was slipping away.

  “Here’s something.” Thomas placed his finger on the ancient vellum. “Take a look at this.”

  Dermot moved to read over his shoulder. There, copied eons ago in his own careful hand, were the landmarks and coordinates for the portal into Áine’s dwelling. “Bless those old Druids.” He slapped Thomas on the back. “This is it. This is what we need.” He went for his scrying crystal and the maps drawn by his order eons ago.

  “Using those coordinates, I can pinpoint the location of her castle. We must travel to this spot—” he pointed to a point on one of the maps, “—and there I’ll attempt to enter. Find Lachlan. I’ll need you both, and hurry. The drive will take at least an hour.”

  Dermot stood on the crest of a hill before a crumbling cairn. The overcast December night offered little in the way of light. A frigid wind rolled in from the ocean, stinging his face and numbing his bare hands. “Best build a fire and set up the shelter. I do no’ wish to come back to a frozen body.” He laid a thick sheepskin on the ground and seated himself. “It hurts like hell to thaw.”

  “Why no’ sit in the truck with the heat on?” Thomas asked.

  “I’d be trapped inside when we break free. Sidney will be corporeal, and for a few seconds I won’t have a body. Áine may be after us, or I may be in the midst of a battle. I can’t fight Áine from inside the truck, and I don’t want to run the risk of leaving Sidney unprotected for even a second.”

  “Do no’ fash, Dermot. I know what needs doing.” Lachlan started unloading the firewood and peat bricks from the SUV. “Thomas, get the canvas and poles for the shelter.”

  “All I ask is that you keep me safe and warm so I can come out of my trance fighting.” He began to center himself, taking deep breaths, focusing his thoughts and energy. He fished for the small flashlight in his coat pocket. Flattening the map in front of him, Dermot took a moment to prepare himself.

  Thomas dropped the metal tent poles on the ground with a clatter. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies, it does—all this Druidy hocus-pocus, spirits leaving their bodies behind and all.”

  “You swore you’d cease being an arse.” Dermot glared.

  “Nay.” He shook his head. “I only said, aye, what else. I never swore to anything.” He shrugged and thrust his hands into his coat pockets. “This is the way I’ve always been, and it’s no’ likely to change tonight. Seems to me you’d have come to terms with it by now.”

  “Aye? Like you’ve come to terms with my being laird?”

  “Are the two of you going to come to blows again?” Lachlan bent on one knee and built a ring of stones for the fire. “I swear, the two of you remind me of my lads when they were young.” Lachlan gestured with his chin toward the tent poles and gave Thomas a stern look. “I’ll see he does no’ distract you again, Laird.”

  De
rmot breathed deep, centered himself and sent his magic into the scrying crystal. Images of his beloved flooded his mind, and with a flick of his wrist, he set the crystal in motion. In no time at all, the prism fixed itself to a point on the ancient map.

  Dimensions stacked one upon the other like the layers of an onion. Sidney was half a kilometer northeast of Áine’s portal. Studying the map, he prayed he’d be able to keep his sense of direction once inside.

  The growing fire warmed him. He trusted Thomas and Lachlan to do what must be done. Vaguely he was aware of the canvas windbreak going up around him. Satisfied that his men would look after the empty shell he left behind, he went deeper within himself. Speaking the words of the chant, he freed his spirit and sent it into the spirit realm, one dimension before that of the Tuatha. From there, he searched for evidence of the sealed portal. According to everything he’d read, the way had to be close.

  Dermot prowled the border between the two planes in phantom form. He found a scar upon the landscape pulsing with magical safeguards. This was what he’d been looking for. Nothing physical could get past that barrier, but then, he had no substance. His spirit form wouldn’t set off any of the magical safeguards, or alert the fae to his presence.

  Sliding through the sealed entrance into Avalon, Dermot found himself floating in the midst of a vast gray fog. His essence quickly merged with the mist swirling in eddies around him. He faded, blended and dispersed into the droplets, his essence dissipating into nothingness. The sensation was unlike any he’d experienced before when astral projecting, and he found it unpleasant and disorienting. Fear flooded his consciousness. He tried willing himself into physical form, projecting his image into existence—and failed.

  The more he drifted apart, the harder it was for him to focus his thoughts. What use would he be to Sidney if he couldn’t pull himself together? Gods, blinded by the endless gray, alone and hopeless, Sidney must be terrified. It would drive anyone out of their mind. What if Áine planned to trap her here forever just to keep her sodding curse intact?