by M. D. Massey
I walked up to him, wishing to bid him farewell eye-to-eye before I transformed back into my smaller, human self. I extended a hand to him. “How can I ever repay you?”
He looked at my hand, and crossed his arms. “A handshake is a bond amongst the fae, although I appreciate the gesture.”
I withdrew my hand, and he smiled warmly. “That’s better. Listen, lad—you’ll repay the debt when you carry on my legacy. Finnegas is old, and his time is shorter than you think. When he’s gone, it’ll be just you and that prick the Fear Doirich. Trust me, when that time comes, you’ll carry the torch willingly.”
I said nothing, and the old man squinted at me as he tugged on his beard.
“Go see Lugh. We don’t talk much—he’s still sore that I didn’t bring him back at the same time I revived Cermait. Fecking peacock always did know how to hold a grudge.”
From what I recalled, Lugh killed the Dagda’s son, Cermait, because he’d slept with one of Lugh’s wives. Cermait’s sons killed Lugh in revenge. Like I said, the Tuatha were always too busy fighting and fucking to care much about being worshipped.
The Dagda stared off in the distance, as if examining memories long past. Then he shook his head and continued. “Anyway, I believe Lugh has a proposition for you. ’Twon’t be easy, but if you’ll agree to it, he’ll be much more inclined to lend you his Spear.” He spat at his feet and gave me an up-to-no-good smile. “Now, be off with you. I’ve land to plow yet.”
I nodded, returning his smile, and headed back up the hill to my friends.
9
I looked inside my Craneskin Bag on my way back up the hill, to be sure I hadn’t been hoodwinked by the Dagda. He wasn’t known to be a trickster, but these were the original fae I was dealing with now, so I could take nothing for granted.
The Cauldron was definitely there, and it wasn’t much to look at. Just a simple, black iron pot, coarsely crafted, with a matching, ill-fitting lid. But a look inside revealed it to be full of a boiling brown concoction that smelled delicious and kept on coming, no matter how much I poured out of it.
At first, it didn’t seem like much of a treasure to me—but then I noticed that wherever I poured the broth, food-bearing plants, trees, and shrubbery shot out of the ground. Despite those rather surprising results, I wasn’t the least bit tempted to taste the contents. I knew better than to experiment on myself with powerful fae magic.
I tucked the Cauldron back into my Craneskin Bag as I crested the hill, and followed the trail back to where I had left the rest of the party.
“Forget something?” Hemi asked as I approached.
“What do you mean? I’ve been gone for hours.”
Hemi looked at me strangely and scratched his head. “Naw, bro, you just left. It was only seconds ago that I watched you disappear around that bend in the trail.”
Crowley walked over to us and gave a flippant wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t bother with trying to figure that out. Time tends to be malleable here in Underhill.” He turned to me, his face still obscured in shadow despite the bright, never-ending glow from the clouds far above us. “Did you get it? Is the Cauldron in your possession?”
“Yes, I have it. He gave it up willingly, if you can believe that. And he suggested that we visit Lugh next.” I searched around until I located Jack chatting up Sabine, who was doing her best to politely ignore him. “Jack, which way should we go to find Lugh?”
Jack ignored me in similar fashion, fully intent on making time with Sabine. I growled as I turned to Crowley. “It seems the guide Maeve assigned us is otherwise engaged. Any idea where Lugh might be?”
“Yes, I know where to find him. He lives on the border between the Seelie and Unseelie lands. He’s a bit of a hermit these days, from what I understand. And, he’s been known to kill fae who trespass in his demesne. But yes, I can take you there. It’s not far, actually.”
“Okay, you and Guts take the lead.” I turned to the rest of the party. “Everyone get your shit together. It’s time to head out.”
There was no way to gauge the passage of time in Underhill, since the “sun” always shined directly above us. This made it impossible to determine how far we’d traveled.
Watches were also apparently useless in Underhill, because the hour and minute hands on my mechanical watch spun rapidly and ceaselessly. I secretly worried it meant time was passing that quickly on earth while we were gone, but I kept those concerns to myself. I soon took to counting my steps, in order to get a rough estimate of how far we’d gone.
I estimated we’d only traveled a few miles before the landscape flattened out. Here, the tall mushrooms and wildflowers gave way to moss, tall grasses, cattails, and towering trees that looked like a cross between Cypress and African baobabs. Each tree had massive root systems that arced out from the main trunk, a feature that I assumed kept them upright in the soft, marshy soil.
It wasn’t long before the marshy grasslands became a full-on swamp, complete with muggy air, foul odors, and mosquitoes. A thick canopy of vines and branches crowded out the light above, and soon we were forced to illuminate our path by magical means. But Crowley seemed to know where he was going, and he kept us mostly on dry land as we trudged deeper into the swamp. Which was a very good thing—considering Jack had been chatting Sabine up nonstop since we’d left the Dagda’s lands.
“Jack, remind me again why Queen Maeve sent you along with us?” I quipped as we skirted a nasty quagmire that bubbled and belched foul-smelling gases.
He paused his one-sided conversation with Sabine to respond. “Oh, the wizard seems to be doing well enough at the moment. This is the land of his youth, after all. Although I might have chosen a more direct route.”
“Seriously?” I peeled a bright red leech from my arm and squished it. It oozed blood and green goo, which I wiped on a nearby tree root. “I want you to know that I will not be giving you a five-star review when we get back home.”
The little man rolled his eyes and went straight back to flirting with Sabine. All the while, Sabine ignored him and kept her eyes on the ground.
We were a few thousand paces into the deepest part of the swamp when Guts grabbed me by the arm and brought a finger to his lips. I drew up close and arched an eyebrow. He pointed a rubbery, grey-green finger to the canopy above us.
I peered into the shadowy depths of the foliage above, straining my eyes to see what he saw or sensed. Finally, a pair of bright green eyes with dark-slitted pupils emerged from between two leafy branches. Either my vision was playing tricks on me, or a huge cat was watching us from above.
I leaned over to Crowley and whispered. “Is that pet wyvern of yours nearby?”
His hood dipped slightly. “He’s close.”
“Good, because I think we might need an assist.”
Just as the words left my mouth, the biggest panther I’d ever seen dropped down from the canopy above, landing soundlessly as it blocked our path.
On closer inspection, the big cat wasn’t quite as panther-like as I’d originally thought. It was black as night, and fully fifteen feet from nose to tail tip. But it was built much more like a cheetah than a panther—lean rather than muscular. As it went from a crouch to its full height, the cat’s eyes leveled with my own.
The cat twitched its tail once, then turned and walked slowly away from us. I held up a hand to signal everyone to wait. The cat looked over its shoulder and blinked at me as it twitched its tail.
“It wants us to follow,” Sabine said.
“Do you reckon that’s wise?” Hemi asked.
Guts grunted. “Could’ve eaten us anytime. I say follow, we be fine.”
I looked around at the rest of the party. “Anyone disagree?” The group remained silent. “Then we follow the cat.”
The big cat purred, sauntering off through the swamp. The going got easier, as the cat had an uncanny knack for finding solid ground where we could find none. Soon, the trees thinned out, and we approached a wide moat surrounding a c
renelated stone wall. My eyes followed the wall left and right; I could just make out two towered corners in the distance.
“Did the ancient Celts even have moat castles?” I pondered.
Jack, who’d finally given up on trying to impress Sabine, answered me. “Nay, but I suppose period-dependent architectural cues wouldn’t be of much concern to an immortal being. If you want to ponder a real mystery, consider how much magic it takes to keep that monstrous heap of stone from sinking into the swamp. That’ll make your head hurt, for sure.”
Crowley cleared his throat. “Lugh is said to enjoy his privacy these days. Thus, the fortress.”
“I know the feeling. Can’t blame a guy for wanting to be left alone.” I shifted my tactical belt to keep it from chafing. “I just hope he’s as friendly as the Dagda says,” I muttered under my breath.
The cat hooked a right to take a path that traced a line down the bank, and we followed obediently. Before long, we rounded the corner of the “castle” and traveled to the center point of the adjoining wall. A huge wooden catwalk stretched off above the swamp to our right—an impressive display of primitive engineering and architecture that was obviously designed so travelers could avoid trudging through the murky swamp. To our left stood the gate and drawbridge to the fortress, currently pulled shut.
Sabine sat on a log and pulled off her boots and socks, which were soaked through. She glanced at the wooden structure to our right and sighed as she examined her wet and wrinkled feet. “You mean we could’ve taken the bridge instead? Seriously?”
Jack perked up at the sound of her voice. “Indeed. That was the alternate and more direct route to which I referred. Had I known the lady wished to avoid traversing the marshlands, I would’ve suggested we alter our route.”
Hemi snorted. “Had the wisp not been busy trying to get in the lady’s knickers, he might have done his job and guided us around the swamp.”
Sabine’s face reddened, although I caught a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. I wanted to say something to ease her discomfort, but I worried I’d only make it worse, so I took in the scenery around us instead. That’s when I noticed that the big cat had disappeared.
“Anyone see where the cat went?” I asked.
Crowley pointed into the swamp. “That way. I get the impression we’re supposed to wait here for further instructions. It appears there’s a way station over there, by the entrance to the catwalk. Perhaps we should take this opportunity to dry out and take some refreshment.”
I looked where he was pointing and saw a small, cabin-like structure near where the walkway began. It was slightly ramshackle, but appeared to be serviceable.
“Fine. Guts, scout around to make sure there are no threats nearby. I want the rest of you to check out the cabin and take a break.”
Sabine slipped her wet socks and boots back on. “Whatever,” she muttered, and trudged over to the hut.
I waved Hemi over. “Keep an eye on her, will you? I get the feeling that Jack’s up to something—and besides that, his infatuation with Sabine is kind of creeping me out.”
“You got it, bro.” He nodded at the fortress. “What do you think the deal is? You think this Lugh character is in there?”
I crossed my arms and chewed my lip as I stared at the massive stone structure. “Crowley and Jack seem to think so. But why he has us waiting out here is a mystery to me. Maybe it’s some kind of test or something. Who knows? I just wish he’d get on with it so I can get the rest of these items for Maeve, kill the Rye Mother, and get the kids back to earth.”
He sniffed and scratched his nose as he watched Crowley, Jack, and Sabine enter the cabin. “Speaking of which, what’s the plan for that? She’s no pushover, based on what I’ve heard. Think you can take her?”
“The Rye Mother? Piece of cake. It’s Fuamnach I’m not so sure about.”
“Fuamnach too, eh? I know you hate the bitch, but you sure that’s a good idea? If you think about it, things have been going just a little too easy for us since we got here. Aren’t you the least bit suspicious that we’re walking into a trap?”
I laughed humorlessly. “We’re definitely walking into a trap. That’s what I’m counting on, in fact. And I plan to bring a reckoning, right to her doorstep.”
Light began to fade from gray to night, and we still hadn’t heard a thing from the castle or seen any sign of the cat. I’d managed to get a fire going, and we sat around it in front of the cabin, eating our dinner while we dried out our socks and boots.
I pointed up at the sky. “First time I’ve seen that happen since we got here.”
Crowley grunted from within his hood. “We’re at the border between the Seelie and Unseelie lands, between the so-called Summer and Winter courts. On one side, it’s always light. On the other, always dark. This is the only place in Underhill where night and day alternate.” He glanced past the cabin and into the swamp. “We will want to move indoors for the evening. It won’t be safe out here, in the dark.”
I stood up. “You heard him, people. Time to hole up for the night, and get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”
I watched as everyone gathered their belongings and headed inside the small structure. Except for Guts, who walked into the small circle of firelight from the shadows beyond. “Guts watch will keep. Junkyard Druid need his sleep.”
I shook my head. “Not yet, Guts, but thanks. I’ll stay up for a while. You go rest, and I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”
Guts shrugged and headed indoors. I took up post on a bench by the cabin door, with the sniper rifle resting on my knees. The sounds of talk and laughter inside the cabin soon diminished, replaced by light snoring and the quiet rustling of my companions turning in their sleep. I cast a night vision cantrip and scanned the area as I listened to the sounds of crickets and frogs singing in the swamp nearby.
“Interesting choice of weapon, for a druid,” a deep male voice stated from my left.
My head snapped toward the voice, and I brought the weapon to my shoulder. I stopped short of pointing the weapon at him, because I had a sneaking suspicion I knew who he was.
The man was of average height, with curly blonde locks that framed a ruddy, fair, and almost feminine face. He was lean of build—but muscled, like an acrobat or rock climber. He wore a blue embroidered tunic over loose green pants that were tucked into supple leather boots.
“Interesting place for the Celtic deity of light to live,” I said as I lowered the barrel of the rifle. “Lugh Lámfada, I presume?”
He nodded. “The same. Mind if I sit?”
I scooted over and propped the rifle against the bench next to me. “Be my guest. It’s your place, after all.”
He sat next to me, leaning back against the cabin as he heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t my first choice, but I wanted solitude. I have to admit, though—the place has grown on me.”
“I can see how. It’s peaceful, if a little damp.”
Lugh pulled out a pipe, and we sat in silence for several minutes while he packed and lit it. The smoke smelled like chronic, which made me chuckle. He offered me a hit, but I declined.
He pointed the mouthpiece of his pipe at me. “Do you mind if I speak with your companion—the one who lives inside your skull?”
I thought for a moment before responding. “Sure, so long as you don’t take it back. I have a feeling I’m going to need the Eye before this trip is done with.”
“You have my word, druid. I gave up possession of the Eye long ago, and for good reason. It’s way too much power to leave in the hands of one such as I. For that reason, I’m quite happy to allow you to carry the burden of being its bearer.”
I reluctantly nodded in acquiescence. Before I knew it, Lugh had placed his hand on my forehead. “Hello, old friend.”
The Eye’s voice echoed inside my head. -Greetings, Lugh mac Ethlenn. I am pleased to see you.-
I passed the next few minutes waiting quietly while Lugh communed with Balor’s Eye.
I heard their conversation, but they spoke in an ancient form of Gaelic that was beyond my meager linguistic skills to translate. When they were done, Lugh sighed softly.
“I must speak with your host now. Be well, old friend.”
-Long life and fair health to you, Lugh mac Ethlenn.-
Lugh pulled his hand away from my forehead, and as he did I felt the Eye’s presence recede back into that other dimension where it normally resided.
Lugh puffed on his pipe and nudged me with his elbow. “Incidentally, don’t ever try that—communicating with the Eye in your human form, I mean. It’ll likely kill you, or at the very least cause you a splitting headache.”
“You seem to get along well with it—the Eye.”
“Does that surprise you? The Eye does rather have it in for the Tuatha, doesn’t it? But we’ve always gotten along. Mostly because of my Fomorian heritage, but also because I promised to free it someday.”
“Free it? You mean the Eye is a person, and not just some semi-intelligent magical object?”
Lugh blew a smoke ring and nodded. “Balor made a deal with the being you know as the Eye. He captured a creature made of pure energy, and placed it inside that gemstone. Well, captured isn’t quite the right word—coerced is more like it. The deal was, if the creature helped him destroy the Tuatha, he’d set it free on earth.”
“So the Eye is what… a fire elemental? An ifrit?”
“Something else. An alien intelligence that my grandfather found on a dying world—the last of its kind, I believe. Balor offered it a place in a burgeoning young world, and the creature agreed.”
I felt a pang of empathy for the Eye’s plight. “So, why haven’t you released it yet?”
“The agreement they made was bound by magic. As Balor’s direct descendent, the oath the Eye made passed to me. Until the Eye’s purpose is fulfilled, I cannot break their pact.”
“Then why did the Eye choose me?”
Lugh laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It sensed your enmity for the fae, and by association their original progenitors, the Tuatha. The Eye hopes that you’ll help it destroy the Tuatha so it can be free.”