by Ann Gimpel
“Ye may be a Selkie,” Krise went on, “yet ye’ve not spent enough time with our kind to learn manners.”
“Not for lack of trying.” She interrupted him. “I asked to join your pod about fifty years back. You turned me away.”
“Aye. We turn most lone Selkies away. Ye could have been spying for another pod. Best not to take a chance.”
Raene tossed her head and copied his word choices. “Best ready yourself. About fifty potential spies”—she emphasized the word—“are swimming your way. My da sold out to evil. He had a demon sidekick, and the Selkies under his care suffered greatly. You have an opportunity to help them. You say I’m rude. Well, maybe I am, but you started it. If people are kind to me, it’s easy to be kind right back. You started by marginalizing me. You didn’t even talk to me, but to your son about me.”
She fell silent, probably because she ran out of breath.
Aegir considered inserting himself between them, but Raene didn’t appear to require his assistance. She was doing fine on her own. If she’d been steeped in Selkie culture, she’d never have stood up to Krise. He might no longer be the monarch, but he was the second most powerful Selkie in their pod. Some preferred going to him rather than Aegir, which suited him fine.
“What happened to the demon?” Krise demanded. “Is he coming with the pod?”
“The dragon killed him,” Aegir retorted. “It really would be best for you to hear the tale in order.”
“Humph. Maybe so.” Krise set the liquor on a nearby table and sank to a pillow in front of the hearth.
“I’m going to make us something to eat,” Aegir said. “We can talk over a meal.”
Raene looked up, meeting his gaze with an unspoken question. He shook his head. “You rest. My turn to take care of you. Besides, Da will help.”
“I will?” Krise didn’t bother to mask his surprise at being asked to do anything that smacked of domesticity.
“Aye. Mosey outside and bring me two of the salted fish from the outdoor storage bin.” Aegir held his breath. It was almost the first time he’d asked his da to do anything.
With a long-suffering grunt, Krise stood and walked from the cave.
Raene looked as if she wanted to say something, but she also looked exhausted. Dark circles rode beneath her eyes, and her shoulders slumped with fatigue.
“Sit,” he told her. “Have some liquor. Doona fash about a thing.”
“If I fall asleep, wake me to eat. I am hungry.”
Aegir crossed to where she stood, swaying on her feet from weariness, and eased her to a group of cushions that formed a rough chair. “Rest, léannan. I will hide your skin next to mine.” He added a smidge of compulsion to his words. She didn’t need to hear him rehash where they’d been and what they’d done once Krise returned.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and he straightened, returning to the kitchen end of the cavern, where he’d been planning a stir fry of fish and sea vegetables. He crouched to open the oven door. Some of Raene’s cheese biscuits remained. Aegir smiled to himself. He remembered sticking them in the oven to keep them safe from marauding rodents. Clearly, Krise hadn’t done a thorough search, or there’d be naught left but crumbs.
He closed the oven and grabbed a flat-bladed chopping knife.
Krise returned faster than Aegir expected, his hands full of fish fillets. He walked far more silently than a man his size had a right to and dropped the fish in the sink. A few pumps and he’d rinsed both it and his hands with seawater. “Is she asleep?” He kept his voice so low not even a magical creature could have heard.
“Aye.” Aegir switched to telepathy to be on the safe side. “She’s exhausted.”
“Spends most of her time as human, eh?”
“Why wouldn’t she? We turned her away.”
“Nay, son. What ye mean to say is that I turned her away. Had I known how much spirit she had, her request would have met with a different outcome.”
Aegir nodded and chopped fish into his vegetable pot. He added a bit of seasoning for flavor and a few drops of oil and directed a beam of magic to heat the mixture to boiling.
While their supper cooked, he sketched out an annotated version of finding Raene in the sea, their trips to Arcadia, and Tarika’s arrival. One thing he’d always appreciated about his da was that Krise was a good listener.
He asked the occasional question, but, mostly, he let Aegir talk until no more words came. He’d been stirring the fish mixture from time to time. It was ready to brown up in a frying pan. He grabbed the pot by its bale and motioned to Krise to follow him outside.
He could have used the hearth, but he didn’t want to disturb Raene. She’d barely budged since he spelled her to sleep. His magic had prodded her in that direction, but he hadn’t added anything to his initial enchantment. She slept on because she was worn-out. Magic could be a bitch when you used a whole lot in a short timeframe, especially if you weren’t used to it.
The weather had done nothing but grow more hideous, rain giving way to a sleety snow. Wet rocks shone with an icy coating, making walking treacherous.
Krise drew magic about them as they huddled next to the outdoor cooking pit. His shielding deflected what fell from the sky but didn’t do much to address the wind. Aegir encouraged the stones to heat in the same way as he’d done within. He poured the saucepan’s contents into a large iron skillet. It wouldn’t take much to finish their meal.
No need for telepathy out here. “Why’d ye summon me home?” he asked.
“Arcadia needs us. And not just one at a time. The Druids paid me a visit—four of them, anyway—and what they said was unsettling.”
“Go on.” Aegir shot a pointed glance his father’s way.
“The boundaries betwixt Earth and Hell have been weakening for hundreds of years—”
“I suspected as much, yet if that’s so,” Aegir broke in, “why have none of them told us? For that fact, the dragon dinna mention it, either.”
“If anyone would know, ’twould be a First Born dragon,” Krise agreed. “But they’ve always kept to themselves. No reason to bother with the rest of us. As to your other question, the Druids kept hoping things would reverse themselves. Their old ones have lived through many cycles where evil rose only to retreat.”
“What made them decide this time was different?”
Krise nodded approvingly. “This is why ye’re a better leader for our people than I ever was. Ye doona react but keep chewing a thing over until ye understand what drives it.”
Aegir dialed back the magic searing their food. “Was that why ye insisted ’twas my turn at the helm?”
“Aye, that and other things. I am quite old, and I served our people well and faithfully—”
Aegir sliced a hand through the air. “Spare me the well-deserved rest speech. I’ve heard it afore. Ye dinna answer me about the Druids, though.”
Krise blew out a noisy breath and shut his eyes for a moment. Aegir girded himself. It must be bad if his father was picking and choosing his words. Finally, Krise said, “No easy way to say this. Arcadia is dying. The Druids are its caretakers, and they feel the land’s pain.”
“But it’s been here since before the dawn of time. It predates Earth,” Aegir protested before he got hold of himself and shut up.
“Ye dinna ask the most important question. ’Tisn’t like you.”
Their supper was done, or breakfast or lunch if he was a stickler about what time of day it was. He cut the magic heating the mixture and hoped to hell it wouldn’t grow stone cold before they got around to eating it.
“What happens if Arcadia falls? Will it be the end of magic?”
Krise nodded solemnly. “Aye, son. We will fade along with it. It willna be pretty because ’twill only be the demise of our magic—the good kind.”
Breath whooshed from Aegir’s lungs, and he swallowed hard. He’d assumed all magic—White, Black, and all types in between—were linked. To have only their magic die would leave the door wide
open for Hell and its minions to overrun Earth. Other wicked creatures, the ones already here, would flourish too, embracing their freedom like a bunch of delinquents who’d been told school was out permanently.
“Dinna all magic spring from common roots?” he asked Krise.
The elder Selkie nodded. “It did, indeed. I doona ken how dark power could survive in the absence of its opposite, yet the Druids are convinced such is the case.”
Aegir pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, wishing he could roll the clock back to before he and Krise had this conversation. When he looked up, he asked, “Is there any hope?”
“We’re still here, aren’t we? Aye, until Arcadia falls, there is hope we may yet stem the tide. The Druids were apologetic as hell about not informing us earlier. Something about the battle they had against the Fae convinced them time was running out.”
“Is it just us they’ve reached out to? Or are they circling the wagons?”
“I doona ken your meaning.”
“Nay, ye wouldna. ’Tis a modern expression. Are they searching out everyone who works White Magic and requesting their aid?”
“I believe so. Why wouldn’t they?”
“I have no idea. Ye’re who they came to, not me. If we have a battle to plan, though, we must know who our allies are.” He snapped up the frying pan and headed back inside.
Raene had moved from where she’d been sprawled across several pillows to standing at the pump. She was sluicing water over her face and hands. When she looked over at him, she didn’t look quite so bleary eyed. “Thanks for taking care of supper.” She offered a small smile.
“Sorry for assuming ye’d cook for us,” Krise said from behind Aegir.
He almost dropped the frying pan. His da never apologized. Never.
Until now.
“I’m sorry too.” She inclined her head. “I can get snappish. It’s not one of my better traits. We had a few biscuits left, I think.” She knelt in front of the oven and drew out the plate where Aegir had piled them the day before. “Feels like I made these a hundred years ago, so much had happened,” she murmured and carried the plate near the hearth.
Aegir split the fish into three ceramic bowls. He handed them around, followed by forks. Raene rescued the spirits, which turned out to be mead, and poured some into three tumblers.
For a while, they ate and drank in silence.
When she lifted her attention from her plate, she said, “I heard the two of you talking outside.”
“Sorry if we woke you, lass,” Aegir said.
“You didn’t. I was half awake, anyway. But I heard a little bit at the tail end of things just before you came inside. The part about magic dying, and us right behind it.”
Words leapt to Aegir’s lips. He wanted to reassure her things weren’t as grim as they’d sounded, but he wouldn’t lie. Especially not to her. His father’s message almost couldn’t have been any worse.
Setting his fork down, he said, “Aye, events have grown serious.”
“But we knew that when we battled the Fae in Arcadia. The Druids were devastated war had breached their land. So were the trees.” She pressed her lips together. “Do you know where to find the dragons?”
“Aye. ’Tisn’t an easy journey, nor a short one, but we know where Fire Mountain is,” Krise answered her.
“We helped Tarika and Britta. Would they help us?”
Krise reached across the low table and patted her hand. “’Tis a nice thought, lass, but dragons doona do aught for anyone who isna one of them.”
“But if good magic dies, won’t they die too?” Raene persisted.
It was a reasonable question, but not one Aegir had an answer for. He looked up and caught Krise’s eye. His da turned his hands palms up.
“Fire Mountain exists in its own borderworld,” Aegir said slowly. “I have no idea how—or if—’tis linked to Earth.”
“We can ask them to aid us,” Raene went on. “Worst thing that can happen is they’ll refuse, but I don’t believe they will.”
“Why?” Krise fastened his clear green gaze on her.
“Tarika cried when she found her lost youngling. Cried and held him close. Anyone who does that won’t allow all of us to fade away.”
Aegir started to protest that Glaedr was another dragon. Dragons took care of their own. He didn’t, though. Raene’s blue-green eyes held hope. He couldn’t stand to throw buckets of seawater on it.
“All right.” He took another mouthful of his cooling dinner, chewing and swallowing. “When we’re done, we’ll visit Arcadia and the Druids and get as much information as we can. When we’re done there, we’ll travel to Fire Mountain.”
“I suggest we split forces,” Krise said. “I’ll accompany you into Arcadia. Once we’re done there, I’ll rally our people, including the ones heading our way from Siberia. I’ll light a fire under them and tell them to teleport.”
“I thought you didn’t want them here,” Raene murmured.
“Seems I was wrong about that,” Krise replied. “If we require an army, more Selkies will be welcome.”
“’Tis a decent game plan,” Aegir said. “I hope the dragons allow us entry. Once when I knocked at their gates, they sent me packing.”
Krise frowned. “Was that when the sea serpents attacked our pod and three others?”
“Aye. I was seeking allies.” Aegir shrugged. “I figure they knew I was there to request a boon, and the simplest course was to not hear me out at all.”
“I always suspected dragons are related to sea serpents and dinna wish to raise claw, talon, or scale against their distant kin,” Krise retorted.
“What happened?” Raene leaned forward.
“Och, lass, ’twas at least four hundred years back,” Krise answered her. “We rustled up aid from the Druids and other Shifters. It turned out to be sufficient. Far more of us than sea serpents. After we killed half a dozen, the rest fled.”
Grateful Raene and Krise had found common ground and were no longer sniping at one another, Aegir polished off the remains of his meal, washing it down with mead and a biscuit. Raene and Krise ate just as purposefully. They’d all need their strength, and none of them knew when—or where—their next meal would materialize.
He cast sidelong glances at Raene. He’d finally found the one woman he wanted for his mate, but anything personal would have to wait. If they botched the task that lay ahead, none of them would be alive long enough for something as frivolous as love to matter.
Chapter 12
Raene didn’t let on how devastated she’d been by what she overheard. What was the point? Collapsing into a maudlin heap wouldn’t change a thing, and it would deflect everyone’s attention away from what they had to do.
Hers included.
Food and spirits helped. She was feeling more or less like herself by the time she’d finished her meal. The fish stew was simple fare. Well-seasoned and filling. A few more biscuits would have been nice, but she could always make more.
When would that be? A caustic inner voice spoke up.
In between crises, she retorted and got up to carry their dishes to the sink. Krise and Aegir had cooked. Cleaning up was the least she could do.
Aegir joined her at the pump. “Leave those. We need to go to Arcadia. Druids are an understated lot. If they just now came to Da with their problem, it tells me they should have kicked the door open years ago.”
“Not so much understated as proud,” Krise corrected his son.
Aegir faced his da. “Do ye remember Cathbad?”
“Of course. The Druidic seer. First one, and by far and away the strongest magically. His son’s child was the one nourished by our pod.”
“Aye. Jonathan. Angus came for him.”
Krise narrowed his eyes. “I kent it. Ye doona approve?”
Aegir pushed his shoulders back. “Nay. The boy would have been better off with us.”
“Ye only believe so because ye grew fond of him,�
� Krise replied. “In the face of an all-out battle, the child is safer with Angus because the Celts will protect them both. Not that they care about the boy, but Angus is their pet seer-slash-lackey.”
“Did Cathbad ever serve in such a role?” Aegir asked.
“Verra briefly and afore your time. He told the Celts to piss off. That was when he dropped backward in time to escape their tyranny, taking Angus with him.”
“How’d this Angus fellow end up back here?” Raene asked. Myths had always fascinated her, particularly once she realized those in the stories were real people.
“I have no idea,” Aegir replied and quirked a brow Krise’s way.
“I’m not entirely certain, either. My best guess is Cathbad saw something in our time and sent Angus to check it out. While Angus was here, a couple of the Celts pounced on him, wiped his memories to cut off any retreat route, and put him to work. I’m sure they remembered Cathbad’s exit and made certain Angus wouldna escape their yoke. Years passed, quite a lot of them, afore he got together with Arianrhod.”
“That part of the tale, I kent,” Aegir cut in. “The Celts assigned the two of them to deal with a problem. Dragons were vanishing from the Highlands, and they demanded assistance from the Celts—”
“I thought they kept to themselves,” Raene interrupted.
“Normally, they do, lass, but this problem occurred on Earth. I suppose they assumed they needed some of us who were already here to address it. Regardless, Angus and Arianrhod met in Fire Mountain. Their attraction was instantaneous, and Jonathan was the result.”
“Which would be why you said the virgin part of Arianrhod’s claimed title was phony,” Raene murmured.
Aegir nodded.
“Hmmm.” Raene pushed her hair behind her shoulders, shaking it out of the way. It was mostly dry and had formed thick wedges of curls that hung in her eyes. “If those two could enter Fire Mountain, there’s no reason we can’t.”
Krise pursed his mouth into an expression that didn’t quite qualify as a grimace. “Arianrhod is a goddess, and Angus the spawn of the best-known seer in all the ages. Dragonkind respects such things. They probably dinna think twice when they barred their gates to my son. Selkies aren’t all that high on the magical scale.”