Earth's Hope

by Ann Gimpel

  “We held the secret for long years,” Nidhogg added. “Once it appeared dragons might die out, a few of us breathed a collective sigh that we’d successfully avoided dealing with at least this one problem.”

  Fionn pressed his lips together. “Did the dark gods know?” he asked Nidhogg.

  “I don’t think so, or they’d have siphoned my blood and sold it.”

  Aislinn stood off to one side, her head bowed in thought. Rune padded to her side and licked her hand. Bella still rode on his back, her talons tangled in his bloody pelt.

  “That seems like good news,” he said gravely.

  Aislinn nodded slowly. “Maybe, but I feel just as used as I do whenever one of them”—she swung her hand in a wide circle—“manipulates me.”

  “Would you rather I’d let you die?” Dewi asked.

  Fionn sensed uncertainty roiling through Aislinn. He wanted to whoop, turn cartwheels that he’d have her by his side for much longer than he’d thought, but he restrained himself. Immortality, or anything close to it, was a huge pill, one that stuck in the craw of any thinking person. And one that took a lot of getting used to.

  After a long silence, Aislinn turned and faced the dragon. “I’m grateful you saved my life. I wasn’t ready to die.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I realize there wasn’t time for me to make a choice, and maybe I wasn’t in any shape at that point to even think this through, but it would have gone down easier if you’d asked, rather than just forging ahead.”

  “I understand.” Dewi nodded. “Even if there’d been time, I’m not certain I would have asked your leave, but it’s a moot point since you were unconscious. I had no idea your astral self was standing on the sidelines, watching.”

  A faint smile curved the corners of Aislinn’s mouth. “I know. That’s most of what bothers me, but I’ll get over it. You acted because you love me, and I can’t fault you for that.” Walking forward, she wound her arms around the dragon, and Dewi bent to lay her head atop Aislinn’s, breathing steam over her.

  At length, Aislinn let go and moved to Fionn’s side, clucking to Rune. “Could you take us home?” she asked Fionn, and her eyes sheened with tears. “If I never see this borderworld again, it will be too soon.”

  “I thought ye’d never ask, leannán.”

  Fionn wrapped his arms around her and sandwiched wolf and bird between them. He summoned the magic to return them to Inishowen and cautioned, “Doona try to breathe. There’s no air between here and Earth.”

  Aislinn snorted. “I haven’t forgotten, but it seems minor after everything else that’s happened.”

  “I love you, lass. We’ll be there afore ye know it.” With his arms around the woman he loved, Fionn loosed the spell to take them home.

  Epilogue

  A month later

  Aislinn twisted before the glass in Fionn’s bedchamber, trying to see her back. She’d picked through the trunks in the manor house attic and come up with a gorgeous ivory gown made of silk and seed pearls. It was cut low and fit her torso like a glove. Long, sheer sleeves fell from the open neckline. The skirt hit her just below the knees because its previous owner had been much shorter. Fionn couldn’t recall just who it had belonged to, but he’d assured her it wasn’t leftover from one of his previous marriages. Even though it was ridiculous, that mattered to her. She didn’t want to stand by his side and recite marriage vows in the same dress an earlier bride of his had worn.

  She stared at her bare feet. She may have been able to scrounge a gown from the trunks, but what few shoes there’d been were inches too small. Aislinn wriggled her toes and smiled. “Barefoot it is then,” she murmured, not about to stuff her feet into her falling-apart leather boots, even if she could find them. They’d disappeared a couple days before. When she asked Fionn about them, he’d shrugged and borrowed a pair of leather slippers from Bran. They were big on her, but not as oversized as Fionn’s would have been.

  Satisfied with her dress, she picked up a brush and went to work on her hair. After twisting it this way and that, she settled on a simple French braid. It pulled her hair away from her face and let it trail down her back. A faint scratching at the door told her Rune was in the hallway.

  She sent a bolt of magic to slip the latch holding the door closed, and her wolf padded in. His fur was still damp from the bath Fionn had threatened, and he glowed as he pranced into the room.

  “You look beautiful.” Aislinn beamed. “Guess that bath wasn’t as bad as you feared.”

  “Worse.” The wolf snorted and shook himself. Black and gray hair scattered.

  “Regardless.” She eyed him. “You survived. How do I look?” She twirled in place.

  “Absolutely ravishing,” Gwydion said as he swept into the room. Today he wore white robes sashed in teal. When she looked closer, runic writing crawled up the robe’s lapels. The warrior magician winked broadly. “Still time to change your mind, lass, and choose one of us.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s a charming offer, and I’m flattered, but I’ve waited a long time for you to marry Fionn and me.” She cocked her head to one side. “Are we ready?”

  Gwydion nodded. “Aye, the guests are arriving, and Fionn sent me to fetch you.”

  “Actually he sent me,” Rune chimed in. “Gwydion just came along for the ride.”

  “Och, so that’s how ’tis.” Gwydion grinned broadly. He extended a hand. “Arawn and Bran fought over who would give you away.”

  “Who won?” She quirked a curious brow.

  “Arawn. Bran will be Fionn’s groomsman.” He paused for a beat. “Actually, Nidhogg offered too, but Dewi vetoed it since you could hardly walk the length of the great room on his arm. ’Tis crowded what with all the chairs we set up in there.”

  “I thought we were holding the ceremony outside,” she said.

  “Lass!” Gwydion pointed at a window. “Have ye looked outside this last hour?”

  She shook her head and walked to the window, not surprised to make out rain falling from the night-dark sky. “Rain in Ireland. What a surprise,” she murmured and turned to face him. “What about the dragons?”

  “They’ll be outside. Close enough to hear, and see through the windows.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “What are ye thinking, lass?” Gwydion asked. “We dinna wish to disturb your preparations, so we worked things out the best we could.”

  A few long strides carried her to the armoire that held her clothing, and she reached in and grabbed a red jacket with a hood that she draped over one arm. Aislinn narrowed her eyes. “Do you happen to know where my boots are?”

  An uncomfortable look crossed Gwydion’s face. It was gone so fast, if she hadn’t been looking right at him, she’d have missed it. When he said, “No. Why would ye ask?” she was ready with her Seeker gift and heard the falsehood behind the words.

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I thought it odd when they disappeared. I’ve looked everywhere. If Fionn took them to have someone make me a new pair, or scrounge me some from a deserted house, I need them now.” She tossed her head back. “We’re having the wedding where everyone can be a part of it. Dragons too. That means we’ll be outside, rain and all.”

  A grudging look of admiration lightened his face. “’Tisn’t every woman who’d volunteer to recite her marriage vows in bad weather, and I told Fionn ye’d figure it out about the boots. Come on downstairs, lass.” He stared at her bare feet. “Ye might want to bring socks.”

  Aislinn rooted in a dresser and withdrew a red pair to match her jacket. She waved them in his direction. “The best dressed brides,” she pronounced, “wear red and white. Saves time if something untoward attacks. All that blood will blend right in with—”

  Gwydion was by her side so fast it stole her breath. He clamped a hand over her mouth. “Nay, lassie. Doona tempt fate by even thinking such a thing.” His blond brows drew together into a harsh line.

  “Joke,” she m
umbled from behind his hand. “I was making a joke.”

  He dropped his hand. “When ye’ve lived as long as we have, ye willna joke about such things.”

  “Maybe not. Ready?”

  He turned and led the way out of the third floor bedroom. Rune followed him, and Aislinn came last, closing the door behind her. The next time she returned to this suite of rooms, she’d be a married woman, something she’d never expected.

  Rune waited for her one flight down in the second floor hallway. “Are you happy, mistress?” He nuzzled her palm.

  “Happier than I ever expected.” She dropped to a crouch next to the wolf and hugged him to her.

  He pulled away. “Your dress,” he protested. “I’ll get fur all over it. Slobber too.”

  “People you love are more important than clothing. Always,” she reassured him and kissed the top of his head before straightening.

  Aislinn stopped at the top of the final staircase leading into the great room. The men had done an amazing job transforming the room into an impromptu wedding chapel. At first they’d thought to use Gwydion’s manor, which had a real chapel, but she’d wanted to be married in her and Fionn’s home.

  Most of the furniture had been pushed to the side, and rows of chairs lined the room. People—humans and Celts—milled about with glasses in their hands, and the din of conversation rose to meet her. Odin had sent his apologies, and she and Fionn had promised to plan a long visit to Asgard soon. Andraste happened to glance up, or maybe the goddess of victory had sensed Aislinn’s energy. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly.

  “The bride,” Andraste announced, smiling up at Aislinn.

  Rune nudged her from behind. “With that kind of a proclamation, you’d best get moving,” he said, switching to mind speech.

  But Aislinn stood, surveying the growing crowd. “There’s been a change of plans,” she said, using magic to make her voice carry. “I know it’s raining, but I want the dragons to be a part of this wedding, so we’re moving the party outside, at least until Fionn and I have said our vows.”

  Applause began in one corner of the room and spread through the group.

  “Excellent,” Andraste said once the clapping died down. “We willna melt. ’Tis a sound decision.”

  Aislinn scanned the crowd. She picked out Arawn, Bran, and a few other humans and Celts she knew. Others she recognized, but didn’t know their names, and a few she’d never seen before. There must have been a hundred people, and more were still arriving. “Where’s Fionn?” she asked.

  From the bottom of the stairs, Gwydion turned. “Och, lassie, mayhap he got cold feet.”

  Bran slugged him in the arm. Both he and Arawn wore buff colored battle leathers trimmed with rich embroidery. “Ye canna see the bridegroom afore the ceremony,” he informed Aislinn. “’Tis bad luck.”

  She giggled and made her way down the remaining steps. Once Bran said it, she did recall that particular custom. With her socks and jacket tucked beneath one arm, she made her way from group to group exchanging pleasantries until Gwydion tapped her shoulder and waggled a pair of beautiful brown boots in front of her. “Would ye like to try them on, Cinderella?”

  She shot him a bemused glance. “If they fit, does it entitle you to stand in for Fionn? Oh, wait. You can’t, since you’re the minister today.”

  He smiled. “Never saw the use in shoes myself, but come sit a moment, lass. ’Tis raining harder, and we should get started afore everyone gets drenched after a turn outside.”

  Aislinn moved to a couch that had been shoved near a wall, sat, and pulled on her socks. She held one of the boots for a moment and breathed a silent prayer it would fit before sliding her right foot into it. “Yes!” She bent to the laces. “They’re awesome. How did you manage it?”

  “’Twasn’t me, but Fionn,” Gwydion said, and handed her the other boot. “We hunted through the local deserted manor houses and castles using your boots for a model. Actually, we located three pairs and shaped them with magic so they’d be perfect.”

  “Three?” she squealed, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I have three new pairs of boots?” When he nodded, she jumped to her feet and hugged him.

  After a moment, he hugged her back. “If all it took was footwear—” he began, but she shushed him and got the other boot on.

  She shrugged into her jacket, stood, and said, “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  “That’s the same phrase I’ve heard ye use afore a battle.” He eyed her appraisingly.

  “And I’m just about as nervous.” She shifted from foot to foot. “I love Fionn to distraction, but I’ll feel better once this is done. It’s been mighty quiet since we got back from Perrikus’s borderworld.”

  He narrowed his blue eyes. “Ye havena had any long stretches of quiet since the dark ones breached Earth’s veil, have ye?”

  “No. Makes it hard to trust this one.”

  “Trust it, lass. I doona sense evil anywhere near.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She switched to mind speech. “Dewi!”

  “Yes, child.”

  “We’re having the ceremony outside. Where are you and the other dragons?”

  “Right outside the great room windows on the terrace.” The dragon paused a beat. “It’s raining. Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I want you and Nidhogg and your brood and the other dragons to be a part of my joy.”

  Aislinn heard Dewi’s trumpeting through the thick manor house walls. “See.” She tilted her chin. “I just made her very happy. Come on.” She clucked to Rune and made her way to the front door where she turned. “Outside, everyone,” she cried. “I want to get to the feast, and that cake.”

  “Nay, you just want to get to Fionn’s body,” someone called.

  “That too,” she said, spun, and marched down the stairs and into a light drizzle. Dewi spread her wings and Aislinn took up residence beneath one as the men went to get Fionn, and the guests deployed themselves near her and the dragons. Light spilled through the manor house windows from candles, and mage lights bobbed all around her, adding illumination to the terrace.

  “Happy?” Dewi bent her head around so she was looking at Aislinn.

  “Very.”

  “Good. We might have…dalliances,” the dragon said sagely, “but they can’t take the place of our one true love.”

  Aislinn considered sniping that if anyone should know, it was Dewi, but she kept her mouth shut.

  The black youngling, who’d grown to two-thirds the size of his parents, made his way to her. “Thank you for wanting us next to you and not on the far side of that window.” He pointed with a wingtip.

  “How could I not?” She smiled at him. “I remember you from when you were this”—she held her hands a foot apart—“big.”

  “And I remember playing with your hair,” he countered. “I loved it because it reminded me of fire.”

  Aislinn felt Fionn’s unique energy and glanced up, seeking him. Gwydion led a processional with himself in the lead, staff in hand. Fionn and Bran came next, and Arawn stopped next to her.

  “Lass?” He held out a hand to her, but she was fixated on Fionn.

  He was dressed in pure white leathers with gold runes embroidered along the neckline and cuffs. His hair was braided, showing off the classic lines of his timeless face. Bella rode in her customary place on his left shoulder. Her black feathers glistened with rainwater.

  Once he, Bran, and Gwydion reached a point at the head of the courtyard, he turned to face her, his glacier-blue eyes alight with love and hope, and his lips parted in a slight smile. Aislinn felt the quick, hot prick of tears. He was so impossibly beautiful, she couldn’t quite believe he wanted her.

  “Lass?” Arawn said again. “’Tis time.”

  With a hand that only trembled a little, she tucked her fingers beneath the crook of his elbow and let him lead her to Fionn’s side. Rune padded next to her.

  Gwydion nodded approvingly and beg
an to chant in Gaelic once she stood on Fionn’s left side. The Celts ranged behind them picked up the chant, as did some of the humans who were fluent in Gaelic. The dragons chimed in at intervals, and Aislinn was grateful she’d insisted on keeping the wedding outside. The rain wasn’t that bad. She barely noticed it because of the fire burning brightly in her heart.

  Gwydion completed the initial part of the ceremony and switched to English. He took her right hand and placed it in Fionn’s. The heat from him seared her, but it was the joy streaming from Fionn’s entire body that almost undid her, and she blinked back tears.

  “Leannán?” Fionn said softly. “Are ye all right?”

  She nodded. “Just happy. So happy it’s spilling over.”

  “Do ye,” Gwydion asked, “take this man to love and cherish forevermore?”

  “I do.” Aislinn tightened her hold on Fionn’s hand.

  “And do ye,” Gwydion asked Fionn, “promise to love, cherish, and protect this woman so long as ye shall exist?”

  “I do,” Fionn intoned.

  “What?” Aislinn shook her head. “Don’t I get to protect him too?”

  Gwydion stifled a snort. “And would ye protect him, then?”

  “Of course.” She smiled at the master enchanter. “That’s what lovers do. Watch each other’s backs.”

  Gwydion chanted in Gaelic with his staff raised above their heads. It glowed a brilliant blue white as it blessed their union. Finally, he fell silent.

  Fionn gathered her into his arms and crushed his mouth down on hers, kissing her hungrily. Oblivious to the crowd around them, she flung her arms around him, clasped him close, and kissed him back. Hoots, catcalls, and clapping rose around them before she came up for air with Fionn smiling at her as if he were the happiest man in the world.

  She cupped the side of his face with a hand. “God willing, we’ll always feel like this,” she murmured.

  “We will.” He leaned into her hand.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because we’ll take care of the moments, each and every one. When we do that, the hours and days will take care of themselves.”