Age of Druids

by India Drummond

  A servant came and set Munro’s usual first evening meal in front of him: muesli with strong coffee. “Thanks,” he said. He still hadn’t grown accustomed to breakfast at night.

  Just as he dug in to the first bite, the Hall’s head steward entered. “Lord Druid Munro,” Hon said. “Your mate, Queen Eilidh of Caledonia, has arrived and requests an audience.”

  “She can come back, Hon. You know that,” Munro said. He didn’t know what kind of bee Hon had in his bonnet. The steward was always trying to get the druids to behave more formally, acquire more servants, do less for themselves.

  “Yes, my lord druid,” he said. “Her Majesty wishes to see you on a matter of some import. I’ve shown her to the west reception room.”

  An uneasy feeling settled in Munro’s stomach when he reached out and touched his bond with Eilidh. She was deeply concerned, anxious even. “Thanks,” he said. “Bring us some coffee, would you?”

  “Of course, my lord druid,” Hon said with a deep bow and departed in the direction of the kitchens.

  “What do you think is up?” Aaron asked.

  “No clue. She’s tense though.” Munro wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin and stood. He hoped she hadn’t learned about Lisle’s idea to take Maiya to the human realm. On the other hand, he had a hard time believing Lisle would go behind his back and talk to Eilidh without his knowledge.

  Trotting through the Hall toward his wife, he pondered whether or not that was true. What wouldn’t Lisle do to save her granddaughter? A wave of guilt passed over Munro. Maybe he shouldn’t have dismissed her idea out of hand. Two people’s lives were at stake.

  A few minutes later, he stepped through the offset arches that led into the formal reception room. Eilidh looked up when he entered, her silver eyes swimming with worry. He was surprised to find her not alone. A servant in Caledonia’s blue livery stood behind the queen and to her left.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked Eilidh immediately. “Is Maiya all right?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “She’s fine.” Eilidh smiled sadly. “Come. Sit.”

  “Something’s happened.” He took a seat opposite her and perched on the edge of the chair.

  She paused only a moment before saying, “Alyssa is dead.”

  “But I just saw her…” His mind reeled. He knew that was a stupid statement, one he’d heard so many people make when he’d been a cop. As if someone couldn’t be dead simply because they’d recently been seen alive.

  “You mustn’t feel responsible,” Eilidh said.

  Of course he was responsible. He’d sent her away, and now he felt petty for having done so. He’d been relieved Leocort ordered her to Eirlioc Falls, partly because he’d worried that someday, in a moment of weakness, he’d have given in to her offer. Now because of his bad judgement, she was dead. “What happened?”

  Eilidh reached over and took his hand. “She was murdered. Her commander discovered her body in Prince Koen’s cell. She’d been stabbed.” Eilidh’s lips curled with distaste. “She had this in her hand.” With a gesture to the servant, Eilidh accepted a piece of paper from her attendant and passed the sheet to Munro.

  His gut wrenched when he saw the blood-soaked page. Alyssa’s blood. He took it and read what he could make out.

  My son,

  If you’re certain this is what you want, of course I will arrange it. With such a courageous gesture, your death will not be meaningless. You give us the opportunity to start the revolution our people so desperately crave, with you as our martyr and hero.

  You have my word that…

  The bottom of the page was torn and the paper that remained was too marred by blood to be readable. A crack forensics team like the one he’d had access to as a police officer could undoubtedly decipher the rest of the message. But even still, he’d read enough to understand.

  “Koen planned his own death?”

  “So it would seem. The Watchers at Eirlioc Falls arrested Prince Estobar and he confessed to arranging his son’s martyrdom. They said…” She paused and exhaled, taking a moment to collect herself. “They said he was proud of his son’s courage.”

  “I still don’t understand. You questioned the Watchers yourself. They all said there’s no way Koen could have conjured a weapon as Griogair said he did.”

  “One of the Watchers conjured it for him. I wouldn’t have suspected any capable of that kind of disloyalty. But because they used their earth power and not illusion, no one was any the wiser. It’s unthinkable to let another touch your conjured weapon this way. It’s so intimate. Still, four arrests were made within four hours of Alyssa’s death. With Estobar’s confession and their plans for revolution quashed, the guilty ones apparently hoped that admitting the truth would spare them from the sword.”

  “Will it?”

  Eilidh gave him a level stare.

  “I don’t blame you,” Munro said. “How is Elder Oron taking the news?”

  A frown marred Eilidh’s expression. “He’s heartbroken. First Flùranach was exiled from Caledonia and now Alyssa is dead. His two favourite granddaughters. Alyssa was such a promising and talented faerie. When we were together at the Isle of Skye, she was generous with her time and friendship. It’s no small thing. I remember those who were kind when I was still an outcast.”

  Munro kissed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am too. She will be missed.”

  “I never should have sent her there.”

  “If you had not, Griogair would be slated for execution, not Estobar. She did her duty and saved his life. She would have been proud to do so. She was an excellent soldier.”

  “Yes,” Munro agreed. “She was. We will attend her death rites, if you think Oron will welcome our presence.” His voice sounded steadier than he felt.

  “I’m sure he will. Many will want to honour her sacrifice.”

  “I was planning to talk to Griogair after I ate. I’m glad you came when you did. This means we can deliver good news instead of bad.”

  Eilidh shook her head. “I think you should be the one to speak with him. You had faith in him, and your belief saved him.”

  “Eilidh, you did your duty. Griogair confessed. What more could you do?”

  “I should have trusted. I should have stood up for him, as you did.” A tear slid down her cheek. “Will you allow him to stay here if he doesn’t wish to return to Caledonia?”

  “If he doesn’t want to return to Caledonia, I’m going to kick his arse. But I doubt it will even be a question. He’s your mate. He doesn’t blame you for doing your job.”

  She knitted her brow. “I hope you’re right.”

  Munro stood and held out his hand, assisting Eilidh to her feet. “Come on. We’ll tell him together. It’s a sad day but also a good day. I’d lay money on him being too relieved to hold a grudge.”

  They turned to the door and were halted by Hon’s entrance. Munro’s smile froze when he saw the stricken look on Hon’s face. “My lord druid, you must come.”

  “What’s wrong?” Munro asked, not certain he could take more bad news.

  “Queen Grenna and a large contingent of sea fae just arrived.”

  “They did? That’s good.” He turned to Eilidh. “Maybe we’ll get this damned Cup after all.”

  “They brought Lord Druid Rory. He is… their prisoner.”

  “What?” He stood and stared.

  “I’m afraid that’s all I know,” Hon said.

  “Where is she? I’ll see her now.”

  “Wait,” Eilidh said, putting her hand on Munro’s arm. “Queen Grenna came to you herself. Most would have sent a messenger or servant, but she arrived personally and she’s brought Rory with her. That tells me she intends to turn him over and also that she’s deeply worried about what you’ll do.”

  “Do you know her?” Munro asked.

  “No. She’s not left her kingdom since I ascended to my throne. I’m not sure how long since she’s been outside her own territory.”

&
nbsp; Munro exhaled. “Okay. We should tread carefully.” He thought for a moment. “Hon, please show Queen Grenna to the great hall. I’ll gather the other druids. Is Lisle up yet?”

  “Yes, my lord druid. She came down shortly after Her Majesty Queen Eilidh arrived.”

  “Good,” Munro said. He kissed Eilidh’s hand. “You want to come see her with me?”

  Eilidh smiled and nodded. “I was hoping you’d ask. I wouldn’t want to miss this. Who knows if this day will come again? You druids should be in position first. Queen Grenna can be shown in once you’re ready. This is your Hall. The message is subtle, but important.”

  “Okay, if you believe it matters.” Clearly it did, because Hon looked greatly relieved. “Is Rory all right?” Munro asked. “Does he look well?”

  “He looks…” Hon’s voice trailed off. “Yes, the druid lord looks healthy.”

  Whatever he wasn’t saying worried Munro more than the things he did.

  Chapter 17

  Munro let Eilidh tell Hon how to orchestrate the meeting. The great hall had been hurriedly rearranged while Grenna was offered refreshment on the opposite side of the complex.

  The druids sat in identical high-backed chairs on a long dais, and a similar chair had been placed in front of them for Grenna. Eilidh stood slightly behind Munro’s place in the centre, much as he did in her court. He felt strange having their positions reversed, but he liked the reassuring touch of her hand resting on his shoulder.

  “We’re ready,” he told Hon. Lisle and Sheng sat on his right and Aaron and Douglas on his left. They all wore expressions as grim as he felt. Lisle had dark circles under her eyes as though she’d not slept. He dreaded telling her about Alyssa’s death. Although Lisle didn’t know the Mistwatcher well, and if his instincts were right, didn’t particularly like her, he suspected she’d be gutted to learn she delivered Alyssa to her death.

  A few tense moments later, Hon led Queen Grenna inside. She was flanked by an honour guard who positioned themselves in the rear of the room while she approached alone. Four more guards carrying tall ornamental spears surrounded Rory, who was dressed in a wetsuit and wearing one of the breathing crowns. Grenna herself was beautiful in a distinct and exotic way. Munro noticed the faint gill slits, flattened on the side of her long neck. Her eyes seemed too far apart and her nose strangely flat. Still, Munro had rarely seen a more graceful faerie. She moved like a dancer, almost floating into the room.

  “Welcome to the Druid Hall.” He smiled and tried to appear friendly. When considering whether to introduce them by their titles, he opted for less formality. She knew who they were, and he wanted to show he wasn’t trying to impress her. “I am Quinton Munro. This is Lisle and Douglas. You already know Aaron and Sheng.” He gestured to his side. “This is my mate, Queen Eilidh of Caledonia.”

  Grenna bowed slightly to the druids, then nodded politely to Eilidh. Eilidh silently returned the gesture. Although Munro’s instincts told him to just bluntly ask what the hell was going on, on Eilidh’s advice, he merely waited.

  “It has been centuries since I walked the lands, Your Majesty,” Grenna said to Munro.

  Munro tilted his head. “I’m not a king.” He motioned to the others. “We comprise a druid council.”

  “But you wear the iron crown,” she said with a frown.

  Curious. Not an iron crown, but the iron crown. “An artefact to help me see the flows. Nothing more than a tool,” he said, wishing to hell he’d thought to take it off before she got here. He’d grown so accustomed to wearing it. Why hadn’t anyone said anything?

  She nodded but looked thoughtful. “I come to deliver your brother to you, my lord and lady druids. I wish no difficulty with your Hall.”

  Was Rory really so stupid as to go to Meditar alone and try to steal the Cup? Munro didn’t like to think so, but he couldn’t deny the evidence of his own eyes or the shamed expression on Rory’s face. “As we wish no difficulty with any kingdom.”

  She signalled to her guards, who stepped aside. Rory hesitated, then walked around Grenna and over to the druids. Munro jerked his head to the side of the room, and Rory followed his gesture and stood looking as miserable as a man might.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. Please sit.” He indicated the chair opposite the druids. “The Druid Hall is grateful for your peaceful intent. A lesser queen might have allowed this incident to drive a wedge between our people.”

  The queen bowed gracefully and sat. “The druid Rory claims he entered our kingdom without your knowledge.” She let the statement hang, begging an unasked question.

  “He spoke the truth. We did not know of his plans. I am aware of what motivated him, but if my fears are correct and he attempted to steal a sacred artefact from your home, I offer my deep apologies and those of our entire council.” He momentarily lowered his eyes.

  “Borrow,” Rory interjected. “I was going to give it back.”

  Munro turned his head sharply and held up a hand to silence Rory. “Shut up,” he said. “Not another bloody word. We’ll deal with you later.” Turning back to Grenna, he softened his tone. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Do I have your word?” she said. Hesitating, she looked at each of the druids thoughtfully. “I understand from your brother that your need is great. He claimed that he hoped to use the Cup to save two of your number.”

  “That is so,” Munro conceded. Saving Huck and Demi wasn’t Rory’s primary motivation, but saying as much would only make matters worse.

  “I promise you,” she said, her eyes intently fixed on Munro, “this Cup will bring you no redemption. Only death and grief. Our Lady Juno imparted many gifts to the faeries of Meditar and the only thing she asked in return was that we guard five sacred artefacts. Each one serves a different purpose. Some we were told to use at certain times. But regarding this one, she made each swear on their very blood the Cup would never leave our kingdom. We were charged to teach our children and instruct them to live by the same vow.”

  “Did she say why?” Munro asked. “We were told this Cup held the key to saving our druids who are lost and to heal two people who suffered magical injuries. Please understand this does not justify the attempted theft. But I admit I am curious why Juno would give such instruction.”

  Grenna’s mouth turned up in a strange smile. “Tell me, my lord druid, was it Lord Ewain who spun this story for you, he who was called the Father of the Sky?”

  Munro glanced up at Eilidh, then back at Grenna. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “It was specifically from him that Our Lady Juno warned us to keep the Cup, he and any druids who may follow even generations after. She never told our ancestors precisely the time from which he would come, but she foretold he would someday either seek the artefact himself or send others. They would be druids, and she herself devised the protections around the Cup specifically with your kind in mind. No druid can remove the Cup from its resting place.”

  “How did she know what would happen so many thousands of years after her death?” he asked.

  “It is odd, I grant you. I might have once thought her words and our vow to her merely a tradition, but time has proven her correct. Lord Ewain has returned, and he did, as she predicted, make an attempt to retrieve the artefact that was once his.”

  “Wait, the Cup of Cultus was his?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes, my lord druid,” Grenna said, acknowledging him with a nod. “Our Lady Juno crafted the Cup for him when the world was young. It is said she did so out of love, wishing to share her blood magic with him, but he betrayed her and used the Cup with ill intent. Everything she gave to our people, even founding our kingdom under the sea, was done with one purpose in mind: to ensure he never again had control of this object. To do so might mean the death of our race.”

  Munro nodded, still not understanding, but not wanting to grill the queen too much, lest she believe he meant to talk her out of her position. Once again, Ewain had manipulated him. “It grants blood power to anyone
who drinks from it?”

  “Not just mastery over blood flows, but control. As you say, one would possess the power to heal with such power, but one could also kill. When combined with substantial spirit flows, one could even command the dead.”

  “Bloody hell,” Aaron murmured.

  “Did she say if Ewain would succeed in reclaiming the Cup?” Lisle asked.