“Fine.” Her sidhe held out his right hand, palm up.
Carefully, oh so carefully, she pressed the edge to the meat of his palm until a line of red blood appeared. Copper filled the air as that blood was absorbed and the wound sealed.
Finn let out a heavy breath. “That…”
“Is not what you expected, was it?”
“No.” He rubbed at the vestiges of remaining blood, the thin line smearing across his palm. “No, that is not what I was expecting at all.” Taking a step back, he gestured for Cuchi to step forward.
The bald man wore a frown very similar to Dub’s, but approached her. Without a word and only a little hesitation, he held his right hand out to her. Then he curled it into a fist, and pulled back. “I do have one thing to ask of you, goddess.”
She tilted her head. “And what is that, guardi?”
“If we survive this, I would have you remove my curse.” There was no resentment in his voice, no mocking arrogance, none of the entitlement he’d sported only days ago. “I am a warrior. I always have been, I have no other way to be. If I cannot use my sword arm…”
Bat considered it. She had been angry when she’d laid it on him, lashing out at an easy target. Had the punishment been deserved, or had she been deflecting? She lowered the hand holding the shard and studied Cuchi. Not for seeds of chaos, but simply to see what she could.
His beard was longer, yes, but well kept. A short line of stubble had begun to form on his head, thinner on top. Faded blue eyes met hers, and in them, beyond the assurance and traces of arrogance and entitlement, was…
Loss.
She still did not like him, this not-man who had injured her giant, but she could understand him a little. To have your purpose taken away on a whim… Well, it was something she recognized in him, something she could empathize with. Reaching out with her power, she adjusted the parameters of the curse for a second time.
“Done. When we have survived this, the use of your arm will be restored. Until that time, though, the curse remains. You may not use your sword except in defense of the O’Loinsighs.” She held her chin high. He had deserved a bit of punishment after all.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and held his hand out to her once more. “Then do your worst, goddess of Egypt. Do your worst.” He flashed a grin. “Just try to avoid taking the pinky.”
Bat blushed at his teasing. Of course, that little joke would come back to haunt her.
Finn slapped Cuchi’s head. “And this is why so many men, and gods, don’t want ya around. Ye can’t help but flirt. And this time, I’ll be the one after ya if ya take it farther. Just be glad Dub or Shar didn’t hear that.”
“I heard it,” Mell muttered, then grinned. “But I can also tell ya didn’t mean it, Cuchi. Just keep yer tongue in yer mouth.”
“Or,” Ari added, his eyes lightening to a brilliant crimson, “I will use that tongue for another recipe I know of.”
A high giggle came from the same plant Daire had appeared from behind. The silver pixie zipped into view. “Ya need to do something with that tongue, sidhe, I can show you something. I like to take on a Big every now and then.”
Bat snorted as Cuchi’s face turned red. “Get away from me, ye pest.”
“Eh, eh. Ye’ll regret that, I’m thinking. But, ya change ye’re mind, just call out for Taire. I’ll be there in two shakes of a… tongue.”
Oh holy foreign gods, I need to remember this to tell Bastie. And three pixies, named Daire, Maire and Taire? Bat laughed. Some things, no matter the direness of the situation, deserved to be laughed at.
Sobering, she held up the shard. “Hand please, and then there is much to do.”
Cuchi, his face still red, held his palm out for a third time. “Just do this so I can be done with this. I need to contact my team and get to work.” He shook his head. “Joking as though the end of the world wasn’t about to bite our arses,” he muttered.
Bat grabbed his hand and pressed the shard to it, and she was not careful. The edge sliced into him, and blood welled and pooled in the cup of his palm. The shard drank, pulling in all that was offered.
“Dammit.” Cuchi jerked his hand away. “Bloodthirsty, the lot of ya.” He stared down at his hand, then eyed the shard. “It’s female, isn’t it? Never satisfied.”
A pulse of amusement came from the shard in Bat’s hand. Yes, this little piece of creation was feminine, and she didn’t mind teaching an arrogant male a lesson or two.
Bat waved her free hand. “You may go. Do not forget to inquire about a way to keep Balor from our dreams. It seems the wards do not affect that.”
“We will be able to help with that as well.” Ari gestured to the taller man of ba. “This is Femi, he has some skill with the soul’s aspect of dreams.”
Femi stepped forward and bowed. The earlier agitation he’d been showing was gone, in its place a blank face and veiled teeth. There was no corruption in him, but he was… more hollow than the others, more easy to excite to anger. “Who should I go with?”
Finn raised his brows. “Do you know anything about runes?”
“The druids’ way?” Femi shrugged. “Some. Not matter, though. I show what need to do to guard the paths of dreams.” His accent was thick, but understandable. Then he fell into a babble of Irish, and Finn’s eyes widened.
“I thought that was a myth,” Cuchi said.
Femi shrugged. “No myth. I make. I show. Need place to work.”
Mell headed for the rear door. “If you don’t mind small spaces, you can use the little room next to the forge. Dub uses it to sleep in sometimes, but he won’t be needing it.”
Femi headed after Mell.
“Can you really make dream guardians?” Mell’s voice held suppressed excitement. “I heard stories of them, from my ma, but I’ve never seen one. How do they work?” He pulled open the door and stepped out.
“You… coax part of soul…” Femi descended into Irish once more and Bat caught Mell’s answering nod as the door swung closed.
Well then. Abandoned for a promise of a dream guardian. Whatever that was.
Finn must have caught her puzzlement. “They are like dragons, but in spirit.”
The winged serpents. Interesting. Bat had encountered a dragon once. It travelled from China during the Shang dynasty, looking for similar civilizations. They’d had many a conversation through the night on political philosophy. “I do like dragons.”
Cuchi coughed, Ari and the men of ba grinned at her, and Finn laughed.
“Only you would like a dragon,” Finn said.
“Oh, no, they are quite pleasant to converse with. I met one from China. His name was Wu, and he was well versed in the concept of the gods appointing the ruler.” She paused. “I would like one of these when they are finished. Now,” she continued, waving a hand, “please go check in with your men. We still need a better idea of the extent of Balor’s forces. Whether he has an army backing him, or a few key players. The handlings will be quite different.”
Her time with Seth, Horus and Narmer was coming back to her. Late night strategy meetings, and whispered plots. Missions of stealth were vastly different from battles of brawn. If Balor held the advantage in numbers, they’d need to solve that with gaining numbers of their own. And if it was simply that he had gained key allies, well, they still needed to know who those were.
Cuchi gave her a mocking bow, and Finn inclined his head in a much more sincere gesture. “The Druid from Dublin should have arrived by now, and has hopefully untangled the pain spells laid on the prisoners,” Finn said. “Though they are not the main players, they should be able to lead us to others that will contain more information. And at least one of them knows who among the Fomoiri are involved with Balor’s plots. I will also collect Oisin.”
“Let’s go. Wasted enough time talking.” Cuchi strode for the front door, then paused just on the other side of the doorway leading to the living room. “This may seem frustrating now, goddess, and as th
ough there are only a few working to solve this. But the Morrigan is backing the effort, and the resources of the guardi are at our disposal. When the time comes, and despite what you may have heard of the sidhe and seen of their gods, they will be there to fight. There are nearly a hundred guardi spread over Ireland, and every one of those would welcome a fight against Balor of the Evil Eye. The pixies have already decided to support you, and where the pixies go, the rest of the smaller fae soon follow. You have made friends of sluagh, pookas and a Far Gorta. The leprechauns think rainbows follow in your wake, and wisps would probably fight to dance in your shadow.”
Bat stared at the bald man—at Cuchi, who she could not quite bring herself to like. She was finally seeing a side of him that she could have some trust in, some faith.
“It is true, none of those misfit fae have much power on their own,” he continued. “But I would rather face down a horde of rampaging Vikings than a nest of angry pixies. I would rather charge into the flames of a dragon than tangle with wailing banshees. And leprechauns out for vengeance are nothing to laugh at. So, while it may seem overwhelming, the resources to win this are there. You just need to call upon them. And it will need to be you. They will not answer the call for anyone else at this point.” Cu Chulainn turned away and headed for the front door, his steps heavy against the wood of the floor.
She continued to stare after him, shaken. These were all things she had told herself, that had already occurred to her. But, she had been feeling a little overwhelmed, she realized. And to hear such words from someone she did not consider a friend, but who was an ally, eased her. Cu Chulainn would not have said those things if he did not mean them.
Finn laid a hand on her shoulder. “I will leave you with Ari. No doubt Ailis and Mell will be back soon enough. In the meantime, see if there is now anything further you can get from the shard on the cauldron’s location.”
Nodding absently, Bat turned to face Finn, pulling her attention from Cuchi.
Flash. Finn, blood dripping into his right eye from a slash across his forehead. His mouth was stretched wide in a savage grin. He held a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, and faced a man twice again his size, a true giant. Spaced out behind Finn in a loose formation were others she knew: Meera, Neall, Faolin. Old Mike, Ciara and her hound, Liam. And others, whose faces she did not yet know, but was certain she would.
Cuchi was correct. She needed to call upon the forgotten and abandoned fae—and the friends she’d made. “When Ailis returns, I am going to have her begin contacting those she knows,” Bat told Finn. “We will spread the word to meet here. I will not be able to check them all, but Ari can help with that now.”
The man of ba nodded. “Yes, I will do that. I am not sure if it is being connected to you as the goddess, or a power I have gained now that I am the head of the clan—much as Puchi had his visions—but it does not exhaust me as it did you.”
Finn nodded. “I am not sure I can transport everyone.”
Her lips tightened into a thin line. “Then we do as Cu Chulainn suggested, and call upon the guardi for help as well. I assume most know the trick?”
He gave her a bow. “Yes, goddess, they do.”
She did not like that tone. “Am I being too imperious?”
He snorted, then leaned in to press an all-to-brief kiss to her lips. “No, goddess. My goddess. I…”
She waited.
“I am simply adjusting to having a goddess that I not only am willing to follow, but that I want to. The Morrigan… well, if I am truthful, she is one of the best of the lot. Maybe it is because there are always wars to be fought, but she is not as… removed as many of the others. And she is a good leader. But even she has her capricious moments, callous and uncaring.” There was a pause as he gave her another quick kiss. “I have never seen you be such, even when frustrated.” He stepped away from her. “I will arrange to have extra men here to help transport those who show up. Please do be discreet.”
Bat snorted. It was a very satisfying sound to make. “Who do you think does not know what we are doing and why?” She had no doubts the enemy knew of the shard, and what they were trying to create in the forge. The treacherous men of ba would have been able to tell them at least that much. Their current advantage was not secrecy, but that Balor remained preoccupied with getting to Tir Hudi and gathering up the remaining pieces he needed for his return, whatever those may be. It was to the enemy’s advantage that Bat find him. She just had to make sure the circumstances of that finding were to her advantage.
They had the shard.
They had the harp.
They had her visions.
Warmth filled her, the gentle touch of a mother, and the fiercer embrace of a lover. The surety of a job well done, and the satisfaction of justice delivered. Ma’at?
I am here, Bat. You know my influence must be subtle, but know that I am here. You are not alone in this.
And now they had Ma’at, the goddess of Order and Balance, who was usually thought of more as an idea than a being. Which meant they had any person, immortal or otherwise, who believed in the right of order and in overcoming the atrocities of life.
They had all these things, and they had her. And she was coming to know herself well enough that she had no doubts she would do everything in her—admittedly limited—power to see Balor sent to Judgement and his heart devoured by Ammit.
She laid her hand over where Finn’s still rested on her shoulder. “Go. Coordinate and gather information.”
With another short bow, he withdrew.
She turned to Ari. “Let us see what we may discover now.”
Chapter 19
FINN
Pausing at the entrance to the guardi headquarters barely long enough to be considered respectful to the pixies that guarded it, he headed inside and straight to his desk. Criedne, his lieutenant, had been instructed to leave whatever findings they’d come up with on his desk.
It was frustrating to not be directly in on the investigation. He didn’t doubt his team’s skills, but reading the information second hand was different from being there when it was found. When he was there he was able to pick up the little things that could sometimes make all the difference.
And the damned report isn’t here. What had his team been doing?
“Cumhaill.” Sean, another of his team, ran up from the direction of the research rooms and labs. “The Druid just finished with the prisoners.”
Not hesitating, he headed for the interrogation rooms, Sean just behind him. “Have they started the questioning?”
“No. And this was no ordinary spell. Whatever was done tied not just their senses up in knots, but their minds as well. Took nearly eight hours to unravel.”
It must have been the ba man. The one they had yet to catch. If the natural skill they possessed over the soul was combined with the dark spells used to twist and inflict pain… Finn shuddered. The sidhe and other fae had grown complacent through these centuries of peace. Oh, there had been wars fought, but they were fought with human weapons. The major conflicts of the immortals had ended with the fall of Balor. Even when the Milesians had come to Ireland, that conflict ended quickly, and with minimal bloodshed.
It took only moments to descend to the warded rooms. Sean indicated a room halfway down the hall on the left and Finn laid his hand over the ward-lock.
The sight that greeted him was not one he’d been expecting. The sluagh that he and Mell had managed to get a few impressions from sat at the plain wood tabled they used in these rooms, crying.
“I don’t know. Don’t know, don’t know. I don’t, I don’t.”
A smaller woman, wearing the light gray robes of a Druid master, stood in the far corner, her eyes wide. She turned to Finn. “He has been as you see him from the time I unraveled the pain spell. I scanned him for any other enchantments, and he is clean. It seems the pain was connected to any knowledge he may have had of Balor and his plans. Unfortunately, that connection was only evident once
I lifted the spell.”
“Why is he crying?”
The sluagh flinched.
“I had to be sure. Some things can still be hidden from a scrying spell, but few are able to both hide from a scrying spell and pain applied in certain areas.” The Druid’s expression did not change, but a new note, one of dark satisfaction, had entered her voice. “And any who would dare seek to steal from the gods, well, you must be doubly sure of them, mustn’t you?”
Sean coughed. Finn held his reaction in, but he knew what the bloodthirsty woman was saying.
“Did you get anything useful at all?” he asked. That was all that really mattered.
“I know where he was from, and when his memories become spotty.”
“Let me guess, he’s from near Londonderry, and he made a visit to the port about six months ago.”
The Druid nodded. “Yes. He intended to ask one of the Fomoiri clans for help in relocating back to Connaught without getting caught out. Who he talked to, and what deals he may have struck, though, are beyond us.”
“Did you at least find out who else he knows? Who he may have talked to?”
“It is from before the memory loss, but of course.” The Druid bent an admonishing glare on Finn. “I am not a child, and I am not inexperienced in gathering information.”
Finn held his retort. They didn’t have time for him to begin arguing with an aging Druid about respect. “And the Fir Bolg?”
The Druid sighed. “I have not even begun on him. Just as with the pain spells, once the memory wipe was triggered with the sluagh, so was it set off with the other prisoner. However, since it was not a direct wipe, I may be able to uncover some of the memories.” She held up a small hand. “And no, I do not know how long it will take me. I will be doing this as carefully as I can, and careful, when dealing with the unknown, takes time. Best to assume you will not be getting any information from this quarter.”
The Forgotten Trilogy Page 40