by C. L. Roman
Jackson sat next to her on the bed. A familiar hum of sensation crawled over his skin, and he rubbed at his arms absently.
She looked at him. "Arcadia is an old friend. She works in the tourist industry, so she has lots of contacts and can get us what we need without getting noticed." Her gaze flicked away from him as an unintelligible voice squeaked from the ear-piece. "When? 2010. Wow, even later than I thought. Yeah, I knew it was New York. I've stayed here before. Just not in this year."
Jackson fell back on the bed and closed his eyes. The world had just gotten far weirder than anything he'd ever experienced. As Maeve talked on the phone, he couldn't help being aware of their location, and the implicit invitation of the only bed in the room.
Maeve hung up the phone. "She's going to messenger the stuff we need to us. Shouldn't take more than an hour."
"And in the meantime?" Jackson levered himself up onto one elbow.
"In the meantime, we start training you in how to use both your power and the Solcruth."
"No, or at least, not yet. First, you answer some questions."
"Jacks, there isn't a lot of time here. Balor will figure out where we went soon enough. The king gave him an assignment, and he isn't the type to just give up and go home."
"Then you'd better fill me in fast, so we can get to whatever training you have in mind. First, what is this about me stealing Gran's power? She gave it to me, and she didn't exactly ask permission or fill me in on the details first."
"Fine. I'll tell you what little I know. But you only get three questions, for now, and then we start teaching you how to use what you've got."
A naughty grin tilted his lips. "Oh, I know how to use what I've got. I promise, dear wife." He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"For goddess’ sake! Only a human would have sex on his mind at a time like this."
"With you in the room, any red-blooded male would have the same thing on his mind," Jackson said. "I'm just being honest about it. But, if what you say about Balor is true, you're right. We don't exactly have time for that right now. So, let's start with the answer to my first question."
Maeve flushed pink but answered readily enough. "Like I told you, Neala is half Fae. Fomorian, to be exact. As such, she was born with a certain amount of magickal ability and some specific talents. The magick every Fae is given through their bloodline comes from the Fomora. When they die, it goes back to the center-stone."
"You're cheating; you already told me all this."
"I'm not. It's the basis for answering the question you asked. Technically, Neala could have passed her power to a descendant, if she had one who was more than half Fomorian."
"But I'm not..."
"Exactly. So, when she gave the magick to you instead of allowing it to flow back to the Fomora upon her death, Neala broke the law. The king is going to think he's well within his rights to take it back."
Jackson shrugged. "Fine. I'll give it back. I've gotten along all my life without this magick stuff. I won't even miss it."
"You don't understand. Magick isn't like a book or heirloom china. It's bound to your life-force, so if it goes..."
Understanding washed through him. "Then so does my life. Giving it back will kill me."
Maeve nodded. "And it won't be an easy death. The magick will fight against being taken, which will be painful for you, to say the least."
"Something tells me you have a talent for understatement."
Maeve didn't respond, but the worry in her eyes wasn't reassuring.
"Right,” he said. “Second question. What is this Clochroi Balor was talking about?"
"It is a sister stone to the Solcruth. They are stones of power, very rare and extremely potent. Each one has a different... I don't know what you'd call it. A specialty, I guess. The Solcruth has the ability to create according to your desire. So, if you needed a weapon, for instance, you would suddenly find it in your hands."
"Or, if you broke a window and wanted to fix it?"
"Depending on how you framed the need, the window glass might show up," she said, giving him a curious look.
"Or the window would just..." He hesitated. "Repair itself?"
"That’s something you could do with your own power, but Solcruth might help by supplying the glue or whatever. That was — weirdly specific. What happened?"
"I'll tell you later," he said.
"Fine," she said, reluctance plain in her tone. "Like all stones of power, the Solcruth is tied to the family of the one who discovers it. The stones can be given away, but not taken. Solcruth was bound to the Danali lineage until a couple hundred years ago when it disappeared. I think Bran must have given it to your grandmother."
"Why would he do that?"
"We'll do a lot to protect the ones we love. Bran was heir to the throne, but he fell in love with Neala. When he was killed, she and Solcruth disappeared."
Jackson sat back for several moments, digesting this information. "What about Clochroi? What's its specialty?"
"Truth. The Clochroi reveals the truth, and it can force someone to tell the truth. Dinael already has the Eiliminti, and with it, the power to control the elements of fire, earth, and air. If he gains another stone, he will be virtually unstoppable."
"Then I should just wish for that stone."
"Solcruth doesn’t work that way. Even if she did, the stones bond to a single member of the bloodline in each generation. You can't take one unless you kill the holder, and killing Dinael would be a mistake." She fixed him with a warning look. "Regicide tends to cause more problems than it solves, and in general, Dinael isn't a bad king. He has a lot of supporters."
"But you don't like him."
"He's my uncle. I don't dislike him." Maeve smoothed the coverlet with nervous fingers. "But, Bran's death wasn't exactly natural, and it wouldn't be the first time a younger sibling took out the heir so they could move into his place."
"He killed his brother?" Disbelief and shock tightened the skin along the back of Jackson's neck. "Who does that?"
"I don't know that he did it. No one knows who killed Bran. They found him in the palace garden, half in, half out of a destroyed fountain." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. "My mother says that he looked like he was sleeping. Not a visible wound anywhere. But when they tried to move his body, it disintegrated, just dissolved into the soil like wine from a broken skin."
"And Gran?"
"She disappeared. Dinael banished her in absentia. He said she must have used Solcruth to kill him, and then to hide from the hunter he sent after her. Given that she was half human, the Fomorians accepted it easily."
"Gran would never kill anyone."
"I know. My mother knew it too. But there wasn't much she could do. Dinael was king, and anyway, defending someone suspected of murdering Bran would look like treason."
Silence stretched between them. Jackson's mind raced over the implications but found few of them palatable. After several minutes, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "All right, I think those are all the answers I can handle for right now. What's this training you were talking about?"
Relieved, Maeve got to her feet. "Let's start small. First, you have to learn to direct your desire."
Jackson rose as well, and the grimoire fell out of his jacket onto the bed, flipping open to the blank page.
Teach him to use the ley lines. As before, the elegant script appeared on the page one letter at a time, of its own volition, and disappeared once they'd read it.
"That makes sense," Maeve said. "You are mostly human. The main source of your power is going to come from Gaia herself."
"What does that mean? Who is Gaia?" Jackson scratched his forehead, squinting at her.
"Gaia is an old name for Earth. There's more to it than that, but I don't have time to give you a full-on history lesson. So, here’s the short version. The magickal power in the Lower Realm comes from the Fomora, a single, giant stone at the heart of the four kingdoms. Here in the Upper Realm, however, the ma
gick is less centralized. It is constantly mobile, flowing along the ley lines."
"Is that the longitude and latitude lines?"
"No. Humans created longitude and latitude as navigational aids. They are nothing more than convenient mental constructs. Ley lines are real. And there are more of them, some of greater depth, some less. They form a sort of net that encompasses the entire Earth."
"A net?" Skepticism printed itself on Jackson's expression. With all he'd seen, it shouldn't have been hard to believe, but somehow, the vision of a giant fishing net surrounding the world felt infinitely unlikely.
"Yes, exactly. You can pull power from the lines pretty much anywhere on the planet. The closer you are to a line, the greater the power. But, and this is vital, wherever the lines cross, there is a node, a concentration of power. That's what you have to tap into to do anything really big."
"Like fighting Balor?"
"Personal battles aren’t usually that taxing. Fighting Balor wouldn't require a node, except for one thing."
"OK. And what's that?"
"Balor also owns a stone of power. It's called the Eye. It is Solcruth's opposite, and it makes a nuclear bomb look like a firecracker." She stared at him. "Are you ready to train now?"
He looked around, taking in the room's elegant furnishings. "Here?"
"No, you're right, there isn't enough space and we're too far up, with too much steel and glass between Gaia and us. Come on."
She led, and he followed. By the time they stopped moving, they'd traveled through the lobby and traversed eleven city blocks to reach the green-space provided by Central Park.
Midweek, the park wasn't as crowded as it would be on the weekend. But there were still a number of tourists and families enjoying the fall breeze.
"We need something a bit more secluded. Drawing attention to ourselves wouldn't be smart." Maeve beckoned and led the way farther into the park.
They reached a curve in the path, and she glanced both ways before diving off the paved sidewalk into the trees. Within ten minutes, the sounds of people faded behind them, replaced by birdsong and the rustle of small, wild things in the underbrush. A few steps later, they found a clearing.
Maeve looked around. "This will do," she said.
"For what?"
"For lesson one. A screening spell. It's strictly defensive but it doesn't require too much energy, and the execution is simple. It's a good place to start."
"What do I do?" Jackson asked.
"Close your eyes."
Jackson laughed. "You have to be kidding me."
"Not kidding." Maeve's jaw clenched on the words. "Neala said for you to use the ley lines. Closing your eyes will help you to block out distractions and focus on them. Luckily, there's a node under New York. A big one. So, it shouldn't be hard for you to find." Hands on her hips, she stared at him. Waiting.
"OK, fine." He closed his eyes for several seconds, then opened them again. "I got nothing."
"Because you aren't trying. Try again. This time, quiet your mind. Tune out the ambient noise and listen for what can't be heard."
He couldn't help it. He snorted. "Listen for what can't be heard? That's —"
"No more ridiculous than being able to see what isn't here."
His eyes narrowed to a suspicious glare. "How did you know?"
"That you can see through the thin spaces?" Maeve shook her head. "How do you think you were able to see me when we were kids and no one else could? Or at the apartment? Did you never notice that no one else tried to speak to me?"
"I... You mean you're invisible to humans?"
"When I need to be, yes. It's a simple spell that requires almost no energy to maintain. Essentially, I use a little bit of Aelfholm's ambient magick to cloak myself. It doesn't work on you because you're a path-walker."
"So, none of your people can make themselves invisible to me? I'll always be able to see them coming?"
"No. There are other spells we can use and —" Her eyes narrowed. "You're stalling. Close your eyes, and take off your boots. That might help too."
Grinning, he complied. "Now what?"
"The ley lines are like rivers of power running across Gaia's surface. Quiet your mind. Open your spirit. Can you feel it?"
"I... I don't know. What should it feel like?"
"A hum, or a buzzing. Just under your skin."
His eyes snapped open. "That's what I've been feeling?"
"What? When?" Maeve frowned at him, pulling back slightly at his explosive question.
"In 'Nam. In Cassadaga. It got so bad I moved to Pilot Mountain trying to get away from it, but it was there too. Mostly I can tune it out, but ever since we landed here, I've been itching like I stepped on a fire-ant hill."
"What? Why didn't you say so? Yes, that is it, I think."
"You think? Don't you feel it the same way?"
"No. I mean, I guess I do when I create a spell. But I've been in contact with magick all my life, so I don't even notice it anymore. It's natural, you know? Like..." she shrugged. "Breathing, or blinking. Just something you do. You don't pay attention to it."
"How can you not pay attention? It's like bugs crawling all over me." He resisted the urge to slap at his arms and legs.
She tilted her head. "It shouldn't be that severe. Let me..." Maeve took his hand and immediately flinched back. Shock washed over her features. "I have never felt anything that strong. How are you still standing?"
"It wasn't this bad. It got a little harder after Gran... after I went home the last time." He peered at her as the hum intensified. "Usually, if I focus hard enough, I can make it go away, but it's way worse since we got here. How do I make it stop?"
"You have to let it in. Give the magick permission to move through you like it needs to instead of crawling over you."
"I don't want it inside me." His fists clenched. "I never wanted any of this. Don't you get it? I just want to be left alone."
Biting her lip, Maeve stared at him. "You can't run from this, Jacks. It's part of you."
"No, it isn't. Not if I say it isn't."
She gripped his clenched fists, ignoring the buzz of magic scouring his skin. "It is. It always has been. Only your mother was afraid. So she told you it wasn't real and made you feel wrong for holding on to it."
"My mother loves me."
"Of course she does. She did what she thought was best for you, but she didn't understand." She tightened her hold, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Brenna didn't realize what denying a part of yourself would cost you. She just wanted you to be safe, and she thought the only way to give you that was to hide the part of you that didn't make sense to the world you lived in."
The hum intensified, driving him to his knees, and she dropped with him.
"So, you pushed it down, and it let you. You were able to ignore it as long as it was only a minor part of you. But now — with what Neala added, it's too strong, and we’re standing on the center of a node, making it even more powerful. You have to accept it, Jacks. Let the magick in where it belongs — before it destroys you."
He struggled, trying to push to his feet. "I have to get out of here."
"Getting away from the node will lessen what you're feeling, but only temporarily. The longer you hold it off, the stronger it will get because there's nothing to channel or contain it. If you wait too long —" She stared at him, her eyes round and terrified in the dim forest.
"What? What happens then?" Gritting his teeth, he pushed the question out.
"If you don't accept it, let it inside where you can control it, the power will consume you until you're nothing but ash and bone."
The hum deepened, sending thin lances of pain across his skin. He looked at his arms and saw scarlet lines crisscrossing his forearms and biceps. Maeve ripped his shirt open, buttons flying into the tall grass, and saw more of the same lines shooting over his chest.
"You have to let it in, Jacks!" she cried.
"I don't know how." The words howled ou
t of his throat, banshee-like and grating.
"Give me the Solcruth."
Even as she spoke, Maeve grabbed at the bracelet and pulled it off his wrist. Standing, she pressed the stone down on the top of Jackson's head, holding it there as he swayed in agony.
"Say what I say," she said, and a dry wind rose around them, tossing the grass as it clawed its way into the trees.
Glacaim le bronntanas Neala
Glacaim le bronntanas Gaia,
Glacaim leis féin.
Jackson listened to the unfamiliar words, the translation blazing through his mind as she spoke, and repeated the spell in English.
I accept the gift of Neala
I accept the gift of Gaia,
I accept myself.
Glowing threads of power sprouted up from the ground, twisting around his feet to climb his legs. Maeve nodded and continued to shout against the growing storm.
Leis, cabhróidh mé leis an lag
Leis, déanfaidth mé cosaint ar na bochta
Leis, ní dhéanfaidh mé dochar gan ghá.
And Jackson repeated it, translating as he went.
With it, I will help the weak
With it, I will defend the poor
With it, I will do no unnecessary harm.
Streaks of lightning shot up his legs, winding around them, over his hips and stomach. Jackson screamed as the hum concentrated into the streaks, turning them white hot with power as his clothing burned to ash.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Maeve held on, crying into the wind.
Seo mar chuid de mo chuid
Aithním seo mar mo bhreithbheart
Is é seo atá mé, anois agus níos mó.
Jackson's breath came in ragged gasps, shaking him so hard it was as if the wind had flowed inside him and was fighting to get out. Between gasps, he repeated her words.