Misfortune of Song: Druid's Brooch Series: #5

by Christy Nicholas

  The words were delivered in such a flat, unemotional tone, Maelan had to blink several times to ensure it was actually Eolande who spoke. She seemed so different from the cheerful, somewhat scattered young lady he’d known for so many winters. Now she was cold, clinical, and precise.

  She cleared an area near his tent of all objects except the cot, several furs, blankets, and a pot of fresh water. She put the latter on the fire while spooning the stew from the other pot into a bowl. She fed Orlagh between labor pangs, telling her she needed to keep her strength up for the birth.

  Maelan had nothing left to do but pace, look out the cave mouth, and wish he had something of use to do. He wasn’t used to being so helpless. Then he remembered the snares and slipped outside to check on them. Though Eolande had obviously brought food, more never hurt.

  He still heard scuffling and fighting going on. The two Fae creatures must yet be battling in the woods. Maelan hoped with all his heart the wolf would prevail. He grabbed his spear and his cloak and went outside.

  The first snare was empty, but triggered. He reset it and searched for the second one, placed on a rabbit run near the back of the clearing. He found a small rabbit and removed it, resetting that snare as well. He was about to check on the third when something snapped behind him.

  Turning to scan the trees, a flash of blue drew his gaze. Thinking first that Flidaisínn had survived the fight after all, he focused his gaze. However, the intruder wasn’t the Fae girl. He gaped in wonder. The bard! How on God’s green earth had the bard found them?

  A cry from the cave caught his attention, and he turned back. Orlagh was definitely in full labor now.

  The bard had also noticed the cry, for he began to run toward the cave mouth. Maelan intercepted him and barred his path with the spear.

  “You are not welcome here, bard. Go back to your many women.”

  The man tried to get past Maelan, but the path here was narrow. “Old man, get out of my way. That’s my wife in there! With my babe! I must be by her side!”

  “She was my granddaughter long before you tricked her into your bed, wastrel. She is better without you. Now go!”

  The bard backed up several steps and then ran through the woods to the left. He must be trying to circle around. With a curse, Maelan backtracked to the cave mouth, the rabbit bouncing from his belt.

  The younger man was faster, and Maelan arrived out of breath and too late. He cursed his age and aching bones. When he entered the cave, the bard kneeled by Orlagh’s side, her hand in his. His enormous pack lay next to him on the floor.

  Maelan ached to tear the man away from his granddaughter and beat him within an inch of his life. Then he noticed the look on her face when she saw her husband. Her eyes lit up with joy and relief to have the bard with her.

  Maelan daren’t take him away from her just now, when she was giving birth. Any birth was a danger to the mother. She might not even survive the night.

  The notion made his heart hollow, but he could do little, except leave the bard where he was. If the bard helped her strength, then Maelan must let him.

  She cried out again, a scream which became a sob and a whimper. The bard murmured to her and held her hand, which seemed to comfort her. Maelan gripped his spear until his knuckles cracked and he walked out of the cave again. He couldn’t stand to hear her in such pain. At least he could keep guard in case Eolande was wrong, and Ammatán got the better of the Fae wolf.

  His granddaughter’s screams tore at the white silence. They cut into his soul even more than the Fae’s otherworldly screeching had. They sliced his nerves and his hope into bloody ribbons of shattered pain.

  Something stirred at the treeline. A mass of gray and red fur limped out of the bracken toward him, with slow and staggered steps. With a glance toward the cave, Maelan approached, spear still in hand.

  When he was close enough for words, he asked, “Did you defeat the Fae Ammatán?”

  The wolf shimmered and glowed and soon, instead of a gray wolf covered in gashes, a naked old man with a long, white beard curled on the ground, shivering, bleeding from several deep cuts.

  Maelan took his cloak and wrapped the warm garment around the old man’s shoulders. Fae this creature may be, but he’d defeated Ammatán, and for that Maelan was grateful. He still had just enough strength to help the old Fae into the cave.

  Eolande glanced up as they entered and nodded. Maelan placed the old man near the fire, fetching another blanket and a bowl of stew.

  The man looked up at him with rheumy eyes. “I thank ye, youngster. It’s been an age since I’ve eaten.”

  The Fae man tipped the steaming bowl of stew into his mouth all at once, dribbling half of it down his still-bare chest. He licked what dripped on his fingers with gleeful abandon. His shoulders straightened, and he sat strong, a far cry from the shivering wreck Maelan had carried in a few minutes before.

  Looking up after his gluttonous meal, the grizzled Fae peered at Maelan with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have any cheese, would you? I have a distinct fondness for the stuff.”

  Maelan shook his head. “To be honest, I didn’t know we had stew. Your granddaughter must have conjured it from thin air.”

  The old Fae laughed, a far heartier sound than Maelan would believe. “Ah, well, that cannot be helped. I am still in your debt, human. I am not one to give such favors lightly. What is your price?”

  Maelan looked at Orlagh, who had just let out a mind-numbing shriek.

  Another, deeper scream came from without, and he swiveled to address the latest threat. The Fae Ammatán was back. He stood in the cave mouth, blood dripping from several slashes on his face and torso. His gaze flickered to everything in the cave, never resting on one thing for more than a moment. His head twitched with each gaze, an insane puppet jerked by strings.

  Maelan held his spear and dagger together, in the shape of a cross, and stomped toward the creature. “Will you not just leave us alone? Away, foul thing! I banish you from our lives!”

  This resulted in a high-pitched laugh, which made Maelan’s spine shiver. Nevertheless, he marched closer to the Fae, spear, and dagger in hand. As he got near, the Fae took a step backward, still laughing maniacally. Tawnith flew at the creature, wings batting his face, but Ammatán knocked the raven aside with a negligent gesture. The bird fell in the corner and didn’t move.

  “You think to banish me, human worm? You cannot do this! I shall never stay away, not while you have that brooch. Old Adhna there cannot save you this time.”

  Two shadows behind Ammatán caught Maelan’s eye, but he refused to glance in case he gave them away. He must keep the Fae occupied and concentrate on his destruction. While the old Fae might be a mighty warrior as a wolf, he’d been badly beaten and would need some time to recover.

  Maelan was so very glad he’d given Orlagh iron to hold. That should keep the Fae from her no matter what. Maelan mustered all his menace into his words. “You cannot steal what is not given to you, Fae!”

  His words sparked another laugh, almost a giggle. “I steal every day, stupid human. I steal cows and sheep, eggs, and children. You cannot stop me from stealing this!”

  Maelan recalled the missing sheep and even the missing farmer’s child. Now he had an answer to what had become of them. With gritted teeth, he channeled his rage at the creature and shoved the cross of iron weapons at the Fae, who took another step back.

  At the same time, two figures shouted and cut at Ammatán from either side. Utromma and Eógan both used large axes to cleave at the creature, yet neither found its mark.

  Ammatán ducked and whirled on both of them, gouging Utromma’s knees with his fingernails, while Eógan received an eviscerating slash across his belly. Red blood stained the icy floor of the cave mouth. Eógan fell and did not move, but Utromma whipped out with her axe as she fell, clipping the Fae on the shoulder. He brushed off the blow and turned to Maelan.

  Concentrating, Maelan pulled upon the power
of the brooch to turn himself invisible. He had no wave of disorientation, though, no hint the magic was working. Abashed, he remembered he’d bequeathed the brooch to Orlagh, and so he no longer had the right to summon the brooch’s power. With a grimace at his own idiocy, he set his jaw and faced Ammatán.

  He thrust his dagger at the Fae’s right side while pulling his spear back far enough to stab him. He caught the Fae’s garment, but not the creature itself. He was too slow.

  A claw caught Maelan’s face, and icy fire ripped across his cheek. He let out a low growl of pain before he set his jaw and stabbed again.

  The Fae skittered away, down and under Maelan’s legs, toward Orlagh on her childbed. She screeched again, but this time she didn’t give a yelp of pain, but a cry of sheer panic. Eolande added her voice to the noise, and the cave echoed with terrified voices.

  The Fae came closer to his granddaughter, bloodstained fingernails reaching toward her with insane glee, a horrible smile on his face. Flashes of older memories clamored at Maelan’s mind, tearing at his thoughts, but he pushed them away. He would never move fast enough to save the women, and his soul screeched in helpless frustration.

  The bard stood, forming a flimsy shield between Orlagh and the attacker. A movement to his right made Maelan glance to the old Fae. He shimmered to wolf form and leaped at Ammatán while Eolande cowered under Orlagh’s cot, gibbering in fear. The grappling Fae rolled and fought, plunging through the firepit and scattering burning coals everywhere. One fell on Orlagh’s lap, and the bard scrambled to brush it away before it burned through her furs.

  Eolande wouldn’t stop screaming, her voice breathy and hoarse. Another painful groan from Orlagh distracted Maelan as he tried to find a target in the tumbling mass of howling Fae which careened across the cave floor. The Fae rolled into him, buckling his knee and knocking him painfully to the ground. His knee pulsed in pain even as his cheek seared, but he pushed all notice of his injuries aside. He glanced at Utromma as she bound Eógan’s wound. That was good; he would leave worry for his friend with her for the moment. Another crash jerked his attention back to Adhna and Ammatán. The younger Fae had gouged several long furrows in Adhna’s face near the eyes.

  Maelan was just about to stab his spear at Ammatán’s flank when another person leapt upon the two Fae with reckless abandon and a belt knife. Maelan stopped to stare as Temuirr wrestled with the two supernatural creatures, completely outmatched and utterly uncaring.

  The bard cried creative curses as he stabbed indiscriminately at the two fighters. Maelan was certain the bard scored upon the old Fae as often as he hit Ammatán, but the man evidently cared not. He simply yelled and stabbed, stabbed and yelled, until the three of them were one huge mass of blood and rage.

  When they were all reduced to motionless moaning piles, Maelan rushed over with his spear at the ready. Ammatán lived, he saw that much, but the Fae only moaned with his eyes closed. Maelan readied his spear to finish the creature, but the old Fae put his hand out to stay his action.

  Adhna whispered, “No, you must not. If you kill Ammatán, the Faerie Queen will have her vengeance upon you and your family, unto seven generations. He is a favorite of hers, a pet if you will.”

  Eolande’s breathy shrieks still echoed in the cavern as the old Fae continued speaking. “I will keep your Orlagh alive for the favor you did earlier, and even watch over her in the future. You’ve now saved me a second time. For this, I will grant you another favor. You must choose your favor.”

  “Choose?”

  “Yes. I can only grant one. Will you save your warrior friend’s life, or will you stop Ammatán from stealing more children? Or perhaps heal your own wounds?”

  Maelan sat heavily on the cavern floor. Maelan’s own wounds were minor. That was not a true option. He glanced again at Utromma and Eógan. His friend still lay prone, his head in Utromma’s lap. She held his hand and caressed his hair. She glanced up and shook her head. Eógan would need healing help, and quickly. A spreading dark stain on the stone floor under his best friend made Maelan clench his teeth.

  Maelan glanced at the mad Fae, still moaning on the floor, and back at Eolande. He flicked a glance at her raven, but the bird still had not moved from where it fell.

  “And what of your granddaughter? Can you help her as well? Or is that a separate fee?”

  The Fae looked at the pile of quivering fear and pain which was once his granddaughter. His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “She will recover when Ammatán leaves this place. He stole her away from your world when she was quite young, and took her to Faerie. The less said of what happened then, the better. Needless to say, I have no love for him or his actions.”

  Another moan caught Maelan’s attention, and he turned to see the bard rolling onto his back. The man still lived? Maelan had thought the idiot long since killed.

  The bard croaked, “Harp. Bring the harp.”

  Maelan blinked several times, but the old Fae pointed to the massive pack the bard had brought.

  He went to fetch the pack, struggling under the bulky weight. Unwrapping the bundle, he found a stunning harp, covered in exquisite carving and delicate knotwork.

  The bard’s eyes grew wide as the harp was exposed, and he put his hand out for the instrument. He couldn’t quite reach, so Maelan brought it closer.

  As his fingers brushed the edge of the harp, the instrument glowed. The bard glowed as well, so bright Maelan had to turn away. When the light faded, both had disappeared.

  Maelan stared at the spot for several minutes before he turned to the Fae.

  “He was not Fae, but he cared for a Fae harp all his life. That was a magical artifact, and one well-loved by our people and yours. Now that he’s died, the harp has returned to where it belongs. Better there than in that one’s hands. While he’s mellowed over the ages, he still commands far too much power for one so mad.” Adhna gestured toward Ammatán.

  Maelan shook his head. This was all getting much too complex for him. He took stock of the situation, counting the points one by one. Orlagh would be safe. He gritted his teeth as she moaned again, but the old Fae had promised he’d keep her alive. He had a second favor, and must choose between protecting the children of the world from an insane Fae intent on stealing them or heal his own best friend.

  The honorable side for him said there was no contest. He must protect the children. After all, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few, did they not? On the other hand, his best friend, who had saved his own life on several occasions, was lying in a pool of his own blood for trying to save it once again. How could he condemn Eógan to death by his choice?

  His own actions had resulted in Liadan dying. Would he do the same to his best friend?

  “What else can I do for a favor? I must be able to offer something else of value to both stop Ammatán and save my friend.”

  The old man picked at his beard for several moments. He glanced at Orlagh, and Maelan was afraid he’d ask for the brooch.

  The man laughed, his beard quivering with his mirth. “No, I have no need to have the brooch, youngster. I’ve encountered it in the past, and it’s in good hands with your family. Now, another favor, hmm. Are you sure you haven’t any cheese?”

  Maelan shook his head and glanced at Utromma again. He needed to hurry. Eógan could bleed out and make any decision moot. He also knew better than to hurry a Fae, even an apparently good-natured one with a weakness for cheese.

  He had a brief pang at the memory of Flidaisínn. She’d been good-natured as well and had been willing to sacrifice herself to help him, even against her own brother. Had she loved him? Certainly such a thing was possible. He considered sending a prayer for her soul, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. Did Fae even have souls? They wouldn’t go to heaven after their death. They’d go elsewhere.

  He sent a brief wish of good fortune for her in Tír na nÓg. The feeble wish was all he could do for her. Another groan from Orlagh brought him back, and more whispere
d screams from Eolande.

  Adhna snapped his fingers. “Ah! I have it. You can come with me.”

  With some effort, Maelan used the spear to help him stand. “With you? Where?”

  “Not now, silly human. No, not now. You will come and live with me in Faerie. I’d enjoy a good chat with you now and then, I think. You’re a good sort, for a human.”

  Maelan didn’t know if he would die in Faerie or live forever. He didn’t know if his soul would be lost to heaven. However, if it was a decision between his best friend’s life, the lives of children across the realm, and losing his own soul to Faerie, his choice was clear. “Very well. I agree to the bargain.”

  Nodding several times, the old Fae stood and shuffled over to Eógan. Utromma cried out and covered him with her body, but the old man gently pushed her aside and placed his hands on Eógan’s head.

  The blue glow from his hands suffused Eógan’s body with an eerie light, and his eyes flew open. Eógan’s mouth opened in a shout, but no sound came out. Eógan’s back arched as the blue light enveloped his entire body. He trembled and shook, his back arching more deeply and his heels pounding on the ground. Utromma cried out, reaching for her lover, but a glance from the old Fae kept her at bay. Suddenly the tension ceased, and Eógan fell to the ground, panting but awake.

  The old Fae smiled and patted first Eógan’s head and then Utromma’s. She stared at the Fae with wide eyes as he walked back to Maelan and Ammatán. The mad Fae still lay moaning on the ground, though several of his cuts had begun to close. Picking up the other Fae, the old Fae turned to Maelan.

  “I’ll fetch you later, then? Perhaps in a few winters. No hurry. My name is Adhna, by the by.”

  They sounded like they were arranging an afternoon of fishing, rather than Maelan’s everlasting soul. Adhna winked, and they both vanished.

  As soon as they left, Eolande’s tinny screeching ceased, and she poked her head out from under the layers of furs. She blinked several times, scanning the cavern. Evidently satisfied her tormenter had left, she ran to Tawnith’s side and scooped up the raven with gentle hands. He flew into life again, circling the cavern several times before cawing and landing on Orlagh’s cot.