“How did you escape?” Flùranach asked, breaking the silence.
“Jago saved me. Within four months of falling under the spell of this man, I became pregnant. I knew the instant the seed of magic awoke within me. Jago’s life force gave me resistance. I grew stronger. Jago’s magic coursed through me as though it was my own. For the first time, I could stand against this man. His power lost its hold over me.
“My reprieve wouldn’t last. I feared the protection Jago gave me would disappear when I gave birth. I had to run. I went to my grandmother, who had some money, and begged for her help. I thought she would think me insane. She listened without judgement and agreed to help, even demanding to come with me as I escaped. You see, I inherited my abilities from her side of the family. We have a long tradition of strange powers popping up every few generations. There is even a Hartmann storybook, full of faerie stories. In our family, we have passed these tales down to our children. I think this was why I fell for Ulrich so easily. When I first met him, I realised those stories were real.”
“Ulrich?” Huck asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” she said. “Ulrich is the name of Jago’s father.”
Huck turned to Rory. “There is a royal named Ulrich.”
Rory blinked, as though trying to remember why the name sounded so familiar.
“Konstanze’s brother,” Huck whispered. “We’ll have to take her through Eilidh’s gates. We can’t risk moving her through Germany.”
“When can we leave?” Demi asked. She stole another glance towards her son’s bedroom. “We’ve had to run many times when he’s found us before. I don’t know how he found out about Jago, but he became obsessed. I’d thought maybe we would be safe here a little longer, but now that you’ve discovered me, we must leave soon. Word will find its way to him.”
“We would never tell him where you lived,” Huck said.
She smiled sadly. “We’ve been running from Ulrich for years. He will find us. Either we will go with you to this Druid Hall, or we will leave Amsterdam and never return. Either way, we leave today.”
Ah, Huck thought. That was why she agreed to go with them. From the moment he followed her from the coffee shop, he’d doomed her to run again. “We have to get permission from the queen before we can take you through the gates.” When he saw her expression, he said, “Not Konstanze, don’t worry. We know the queen of Caledonia, and we can bring you into her territory. She’s no friend of Konstanze. We’ll have to travel to Belgium to reach her gates.”
Flùranach tensed but said nothing. After only a fractional hesitation, she gave a nod.
Huck turned to Demi. “Give us this one day. We’ll get permission from Queen Eilidh, then we’ll come back to get you.”
“All of us? You will give shelter to my grandmother and Jago as well, yes?”
“Yes,” Huck said. Rory opened his mouth to say something, but he shook his head as though he thought better of it.
“And we will be safe in this Druid Hall?”
Huck nodded. “In the Otherworld, druids are revered. He could never hurt you as long as you’re with me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He’d meant to say “with us.” The others looked at him, but he couldn’t correct himself now.
“We have to go,” Rory said. “The gates will close at daybreak. If we don’t leave now, we’ll have to wait until night falls again.”
She nodded. “I will wait one day.”
“I could stay with you,” Huck said. “Flùranach and Rory have to go, because she casts the illusions that make them appear human, but I don’t have the same problem.”
A small smile flitted across her face. “No,” she said. “I must tell Omi and Jago we are to leave again, and I need to do that alone. In truth, I think she has been preparing ever since she saw you in the street below our window.”
Huck was reluctant to leave her, afraid she would bolt the second they were out of sight. But there was nothing he could do. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll be back as quickly as we can after nightfall.”
“We will be ready,” Demi said.
Chapter 7
Munro convinced Eilidh to stay in bed longer than usual, and he suspected she wanted to soothe any unspoken jealousy about her trip with Griogair. Once they rose and dressed, they shared their first meal of the evening with Griogair. Over fruit and cream, Eilidh asked the prince to join her in visiting the gates and altars. The three of them met with Prince Koen and his father, who seemed perturbed to hear Griogair was going along. Eilidh mollified them by asking them to be a part of the welcoming entourage on the journey. For some reason, the news that Munro wouldn’t be taking the journey pleased the princes.
The ridiculous wrangling made Munro chuckle. If the new guy thought he might be able to displace Munro in any way, it showed how little most of the fae still understood the nature of the bond. To be fair, though, Eilidh and Munro were one of two bonded pairs known to exist, all the others having died out thousands of years ago.
Even though Munro had planned to stay in Caledonia a while, Eilidh’s departure changed his plans. Leaving his future wife to deal with the domestic mess the Source Stone had thrust upon her, he headed back to the Halls of Mist. He arrived in the early evening, when activity was at its greatest around the portal, with scholars and fae from all kingdoms travelling back and forth. Shortly after Munro came through the portal, a passel of young faeries was herded to the library by their mentors to learn about rune study. He had to check himself for a moment. He recognised their youth and thought of them as children, as all faeries would. But some of them were likely fifty years older than him. How easily he’d slipped into the fae way of thinking.
Some of the youths stared at him, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he gave a cordial nod to their teachers, who returned the gesture of respect with a quiet, “My lord druid.” He waited until they descended into the library, gave them a few minutes, then followed. Rory and Huck would still be in Amsterdam, and nobody expected him back. Now seemed like a good time to talk to Oszlár about the Source Stone.
At the bottom of the stairs in the library entrance hall, one of the keepers’ assistants divided the students into smaller groups. Munro slipped through the crowd, back towards the keepers’ private study chambers. The keepers lived like monks, with none of the trappings their exalted status among the fae could give them.
He located Oszlár in his office. The fae didn’t use traditional desks and chairs like he might have found in a human-built room used for the same purpose. They had different attitudes towards rank and status. When they built to impress, the intent often went over his head.
Munro paused in the archway, his keen vision finding Oszlár, despite the lack of light in the room. The old keeper dozed, holding a thin rune slate in one hand and a stylus in the other. He looked even more ancient while sleeping, his face retaining none of the sharpness that made him so formidable.
“You can’t be here,” came a voice behind Munro.
He turned and faced one of the other keepers, a round-faced male faerie with wispy grey hair, who rushed up behind him. When the keeper recognised him, he paused. “Oh, my lord druid. I didn’t realise it was you.” Although faeries could usually sense the difference between a human’s presence and a druid’s, after he’d touched the Source Stone, he felt like a faerie to them.
“I didn’t realise he was asleep,” Munro said. “I’ll come back later.”
“I’m not asleep,” Oszlár said, adjusting himself in the low chair. “I was meditating. Come in, Lord Druid Munro.” He waved a hand at the other keeper, shooing him out. Keepers were never shooed, except by Oszlár. As the oldest faerie alive, the others permitted him some eccentricity.
“I wish you’d call me Munro. Or Quinton even,” he said. “All this Lord Druid stuff can get to be a bit much.”
Oszlár nodded. “I understand, but I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, this Lord Druid stuff may save your life.” He gestured to the chair o
pposite him and put his tablet and stylus aside.
“Save my life? From whom?”
“You and your brother druids’ powers and positions are still in an embryonic stage. What if the queens decided they didn’t want humans to wield any power in the Halls of Mist? Can you defend yourselves? Can you live without the gifts and assistance of the queens? Could you even return to the human realm if they decided to cut off your access to their lands?”
“Eilidh would never isolate us,” Munro said.
“No,” Oszlár said. “You’re right.” He settled back in his chair and smiled. “What brings you to the library today? We’ve not read together for some weeks. I always enjoy learning from your translations.” Fae runes did not symbolise any alphabet, but instead represented concepts and the magically imbued intent of the rune creator. Therefore, every reader might interpret a rune in a different way. Munro had discovered the druids’ talent for using runes, although none of the others had the ability to read as widely as he did. He had the ability to translate entire stories, even the oldest and most complex. The others seemed to find an affinity with a few runes that spoke to them, but struggled with anything more.
“I’d like to study the Source Stone,” Munro said.
Oszlár’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“It’s the most interesting artefact here.”
“And the most powerful. Are you not content with the changes it brought about already, through mere moments of contact?”
“Content?” Munro asked, surprised. “I don’t want anything from the Stone. I only want to understand it.”
A smile spread across Oszlár’s face, and he laughed. “My dear friend, I have studied the Source Stone for thirteen centuries, and I do not fully grasp its mysteries.”
“That artefact changed me fundamentally,” Munro said. “Every alteration to my body, to my mind, maybe even my understanding of the runes came about because of this rock. Even faeries can’t tell what I am anymore. It choses queens.” He leaned forward, growing excited. “How can any stone choose a queen? How does it know who should rule? Who has the best mind, the best heart?”
Oszlár watched him closely, but didn’t answer.
“I remember when I read the Killbourne Wall, when we learned that the first druids, the draoidh sorcerers, may have created the fae. The interpretation rang true. Essentially, we are creators. I knew the ancient runemakers were those same druids. They had to be. The fae have the ability, but it’s limited to a shadow of what I can do.” He stood and paced, unable to contain his energy. “So, yes, if the ancient druids can make a faerie, a magnificent, sentient being who can think, grow, perform magic, love, live, die, why not make a stone that can reason? But how?”
“You think if you can understand the Stone, you can create another?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. There aren’t enough of us. We have missing pieces. I can make stone objects move, sometimes even in a lifelike way, but they’re just rocks.”
“Why has Lord Druid Huck Webster not come to touch the stone?” Oszlár asked him, his swirling gaze penetrating through Munro’s musing.
The druid paused and considered. “I think he isn’t in a hurry to change. He was eager to join us in the beginning. Now he spends much of his time in the human realm. He isn’t prepared to let go. Someday he will. When he’s ready.”
“And you? Are you in a hurry to change?”
“You think I’ll change even more if I touch the Stone again?” Munro asked, surprised. The idea hadn’t occurred to him. What further changes might happen to him? But then, what couldn’t the Stone do? He had no idea of its powers or limitations. All the more reason to learn as much as possible.
“I’m not certain,” Oszlár admitted. “We possess no written records of the draoidh interacting with the Stone. I would, however, advise caution. Our people depend on the Stone. Yes, it may change you, but there is also the chance you may change it. Without the Stone, the fae will die.”
“I’ve already touched it once, like most of the others. You weren’t worried then.”
“You are more powerful now than you were in the beginning,” Oszlár said.
Munro considered. Was he? He’d felt like a god right after encountering the Stone, but the mood faded. Now he considered himself a mostly normal guy with a few enhanced natural abilities. “I’d like to visit the chamber, at least. Do you think that’s all right?”
Oszlár agreed and led Munro into the lower area where only the keepers themselves and the druids were permitted to go. Unlike last time, the pair went alone. The round room bore a hard chill, and the runes covering the walls remained silent, at least for the moment.
On both of his previous visits, all the keepers had been there. They had raised the Source Stone from the floor with a rhythmic chant. Now, Oszlár stood alone on the opposite side of the round chamber, watching Munro closely. Power emanated from the Stone’s resting place. The air in the chamber felt heavy and thick.
Munro turned his attention to the rune-covered walls. When he’d last entered, he’d ignored the symbols carved around him. “Who made these?” he asked the keeper, running his hand over the cool, stone surface.
“Many hands,” Oszlár replied.
Munro nodded and moved towards the centre of the room. The Stone rested, embedded into the floor. With careful steps, he paced around it, probing as he did when he read runes, but none of its secrets were revealed. The artefact eluded him, as though it contained no runes at all.
“What is the meaning of the chant you use when you raise the stone?” Munro asked.
Oszlár thought for a moment. “In your language, roughly, ‘Awake and listen. Receive our sacrifice. Accept our offering.’”
Munro frowned. He wondered if he would interpret their invocation differently. “Would you write down the runes for the chant?”
“No,” Oszlár said. “We hold the words sacred. Our oaths forbid us from teaching them to anyone other than an initiated keeper. To inscribe them would provide too great a risk.”
“Of course,” Munro said. He understood. If someone else learned how to raise the Stone, that might prove disastrous. “Thank you for telling me.” He did wonder why Oszlár had. Perhaps he believed it would do no harm, considering the druids had already heard the words, even if they didn’t understand the fae tongue.
Munro looked around the room one last time. The magic in the air was thick, but not overwhelming. “I’m no closer to understanding how the artefact works,” he said, disappointed that nothing had come to him. He’d thought for sure if he came here again, especially now that he’d learned more about runes, something would have made sense.
Oszlár shook his head with a smile. “You are so young,” he said under his breath.
Munro flushed with embarrassment. Of course if the fae hadn’t unlocked the Stone’s secrets over thousands of years, he was unlikely to work it out in fifteen minutes. “Perhaps we can come back another time,” he said.
The aged keeper gestured to the door. They walked up the long, winding stairs together. “I wonder if we should begin with something less…complex. There are other objects of power. Ancient ones. I will consult with the keepers, and you and I can work with them together, if you like.”
Munro nodded. “I recall in one story, we read about enchanted weapons.” He avoided mentioning the scholar, Ríona, who’d first showed him the tale. She’d died horrifically because of her association with him. His gut churned at the unwelcome memory.
“Ah yes. The Andenan artefact. I remember.” Thankfully, Oszlár didn’t mention her either, but his expression suggested the story would now always remind him of her.
“Do any of these weapons still exist?”
“Do you believe you need a weapon?”
They reached the entrance of the library, and Munro laughed. Oszlár had an annoying way of answering questions with questions. “I have no interest in weapons, only in enchantments. An enchanted peanut would be as interesting
to me as a sword.”
Oszlár chuckled. “Lord Druid Quinton Munro,” he said and bowed formally. “You grace us with your presence as always. I will research your request about the Andenan runes. May the Mother favour your path.”
Only then did Munro realise the room was not empty. He wished he understood why Oszlár was so determined to put on these formal performances when anyone else was around. Was the druids’ position really so precarious? “Thank you. I’ll see you again soon, Keeper Oszlár.” He bowed his head and left. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he set off for the Druid Hall.
∞
Rory watched Huck jogging ahead of him and Flùranach as they raced through the Ashkyne Otherworld. The American druid seemed lost in his own thoughts, excited on one hand, but angry and spoiling for a fight on the other. Rory hoped the run would calm him down. They’d need to keep their heads when talking to Eilidh. She was a friend, but she was also a queen. He’d have to find a way to frame their request with care. Naturally, they’d talk to Munro first, but Eilidh would probably want to speak with them all to get the full story. From what Rory had learned about the balance of power between the queens, sneaking a druid out of the Ashkyne borderlands and through Eilidh’s territory would be no small thing. And how would they explain to the fae world about Demi’s child with Konstanze’s brother? What a mess.
Flùranach loped beside Rory with ease. She glanced over, her hair catching the early morning rays of the Otherworld sun. “I would like to speak with you alone,” she said.
Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords Page 8