A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2)

by Auburn Tempest

  I turn and wave away his denial. “I assure you there are dragons in the area. I was held prisoner in the queen’s lair for seven weeks this summer while her eggs hatched. There are at least one adult female and twenty-three wyrmlets in the area.”

  Da nods. “And the queen would need to feed more often to tend to her babes. Yer thinkin’ she tunneled up to snack on some sheep and got the bonus of three vandals as dessert?”

  Calum nods. “That’s what we think. Have you counted your sheep, Mr. Doyle? I’d bet a few are missing. If the Queen of Wyrms has twenty-three mouths to feed, I don’t think a few assholes sneaking around in the dark would sate her hunger.”

  “Ye can’t be serious,” Ciara snaps. “Yer buyin’ into her nonsense about a mythical winged reptile that’s been the thing of fables for millennia? Dragons aren’t real.”

  “The Wyrm Queen doesn’t have wings or legs. She’s more like a giant, blood-red serpent with a penchant for chomping humans and a fixation on Elvis memorabilia.”

  Iris lets out a feminine sound and brushes a hand over her hair. “If Fiona’s right and a dragon came up to feast on the sheep and ate the men destroying my trees in the process, then I am grateful. Let the beast feed her young on the bones of those men. The grove is worth far more than their lives.”

  Granda frowns. “It would’ve been helpful to know who the men were and who backs them. Have they finished what they started? Are the other groves in danger?”

  I sigh, peel off my jacket, and hand it to Calum. “I suppose now is as good a time as any to try and find out. Fingers crossed Patty’s right, and this is only a visit.”

  “Fi, no.” Da jogs around the Doyles to get to me. “What if she holds ye again? What if ye can’t get free this time? We can find the answers some other way.”

  I shrug, pull up my sleeve, and wrap my fingers around the infinity dragon tattoo that bands my upper arm. “At least this time you’ll know where I am. I’ll be fine. Wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” Calum says.

  “Slan!” Granda and Da say at the same time.

  I close my eyes, focus on the dragon lair, and marvel as magic bursts beneath my grip.

  Chapter Three

  The lair of the Dragon Queen of Wyrms is located about three hundred and fifty feet below the ground, not far inland from the Cliffs of Moher. It has a massive main cavern with a few offshoot tunnels and glows gold with the shimmering radiance of Patty’s leprechaun treasure.

  Thankfully, when I open my eyes, I have indeed materialized within the lair. With my sense of direction, I had no idea where I might end up. I consider my first solo teleportation a huge success. Sloan will be proud.

  I check things out, and the lair is as it was, except for the stench. The air no longer hangs with the reek of rot and dank of death like it did before.

  That’s a big checkmark in the win column.

  “Yer here!” Patty shouts and sets his controller on the arm of his recliner and jumps up to greet me. “I didn’t expect ye so soon.”

  “Are you kidding? I couldn’t wait to get here to see my little wyrmlets and say hello.”

  Patty arches a brow. Yeah, he’s not buying it.

  “Also, I wanted to speak with Her Graciousness about something that happened up top last night.” I glance around the empty cavern and shrug. “Is she here?”

  “Och, of course. She’s in the nursery wing with the nest. Come along. She wants to speak with you too.”

  I follow Patty past where the eggs were stored off the main cavern and through a smooth, dark tunnel. “This is new, right? I don’t remember this being here.”

  “It is new.” Patty pushes his glasses further up his nose. “We needed a place for the littles to stretch and grow. Her Mightiness found two of the scamps near the Cadillac and almost lost her temper.”

  I shudder even to think of what that might look like.

  “Wyrms will be wyrms, I suppose. It’s good they have a designated play area now.”

  “Agreed. It took milady a full week of nights working while they slept, but she burrowed and pushed the rock and dirt out the tunnel of death and into the water below.”

  “Ahh, that’s why it smells so much better in here.”

  Patty nods. “It’s amazing what cleaning every half-century can do. And now the young have their wing.”

  I don’t care about any of this but try to muster the appropriate level of enthusiasm. “I’m sure it’s safer for everyone to establish boundaries at a young age. There’s a chance she could roll on one of them while she’s sleeping if they’re loose. I’ve heard of livestock doing that.”

  “Och.” Patty makes a pained expression. “That would be tragic. Imagine the horror.”

  The hiss and rattle of scales rubbing against stone precede the arrival of our hostess. “Mother of Wyrms, you’ve come as requested.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” I drop my gaze and pull my sleeve back into place. “Patty mentioned you wanted to see me and talk to me about something. I came as soon as I was free.”

  She continues forward into the cavern to join us. The muscles in her body tense and release to propel her across the polished stone floor. If I weren’t so intimidated by her size and ferocity, I would consider her a miraculous creature.

  When she’s fully in the main chamber, her body coils and ropes while her head and first sections of her body rear up like a cobra about to strike. As always, I’m struck by my first instinct of melting into a trembling puddle of goo.

  If she opens her mouth and descends over me, she’ll swallow me in one violent snap.

  “I have much to tell you, but first, you must meet the little ones.” She tips her head back and emits a guttural screech that harkens a “nails on the chalkboard” pitch. It seems to act as a dragon whistle though, because a second later, the stone is gone and the floor writhes with royal blue, shimmering gold, emerald green, and candy apple red wyrmlets.

  “Wow. Look at how much they’ve grown.” My reaction is genuine, although creeped out. When I left a month ago, the newborns were the size and shape of mucousy, slithery ferrets. Now they are much closer to flipperless seals.

  “Do they bite?”

  I ask because they’re now wriggling around my feet and there’s no possibility of me stepping away without stomping on one—which I’m sure wouldn’t please the Queen Mum.

  “Och, every chance they get, the wee rascals. They especially enjoy sinking their teeth into flesh and giving it a good chomp when they’re hungry. They fed well last night, though, so your ankles should be spared.”

  Comforting. “Speaking of feeding last night.” I use Patty’s comment to segue. “Were you by chance feeding on sheep and discovered men destroying trees?”

  “Yes,” the queen hisses. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When I broke free of the ground, three men cloaked in black were intent on consuming the life force from a fae grove. They were maliciously siphoning the power of ancient fae magic. I consumed them, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I despair not all the trees of the hidden ones were spared, but I didn’t arrive until after the carnage had begun.”

  “I’m sure you did everything you could. The Doyles are lucky you were there. Mrs. Doyle asked me to extend her joy that your actions spared most of her forest.”

  “Tell her that I could not allow the willful destruction of such a well-kept and honored grove. But know this, Fiona Cumhaill, the men who perpetrated the crime didn’t act alone. The people they are with are determined to weaken the guardians of nature.”

  “How do you know that’s what they wanted?”

  “Because I ate them.”

  I blink, waiting…but no, that’s all the answer I get.

  Patty chuckles and takes pity on me. “When a wyrm dragon consumes a creature’s noggin’, there is a wisdom transfer release into her cells.”

  It almost kills me not to say the words brains and dragon zombie, but somehow, I choke that im
pulse down. “You’re saying she ate them and afterward, she could tell what they were thinking?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And they want to destroy the sacred groves of the Elders of the Order of Druids to weaken their powers?”

  “Destroying them is of secondary benefit.” The dragon queen dips her chin. “Consuming the power of the hidden ones is their primary goal. I wanted to warn you because your people are among the founding nine and surely have a grove to protect, yes?”

  “We are, and we do. I appreciate the warning.” A particularly assertive baby dragon uses the bodies of his brothers and sisters to climb me. It’s a blue one, and I can tell it’s a boy because he has the three-pronged spike at the end of his tail. “Hello, there.”

  “He remembers you. How sweet,” the queen coos.

  “Is this the firstborn?” I look down and stroke my fingers over his plated face. He has a weird crested ridge across his face that looks like a chiseled, scaly unibrow. It comes down his face into a horned snout, and I realize I’m in trouble. It’s a face only a mother could love—and yet I do.

  Oh no. I really am the Mother of Wyrms.

  “Hello, little dude. Do you remember me?”

  He’s straining to climb me, so I wrap my arms around him and give it a go. He’s not as slimy as I thought he’d be and when I hold him, he stops wriggling and lets out a soft purring noise.

  “Och, that wee one’s in love.” Patty smiles and reaches over to stroke the blue dude’s back. “They only purr like that when they’re truly content.”

  “Would you like to take him with you, Fiona Cumhaill? You gave me twenty-three children, but you could have a wyrm dragon son of your very own.”

  I smile down at the giant blue reptilian slug in my arms and consider it. Briefly. “I’d love him, but he’s better off with you and his siblings. I live in a city, and he’d have nowhere to roam. You know how to feed him and keep him safe. I’ll visit though, I promise. Whenever I come back, I’ll visit.”

  “Spoken with the love of a true mother,” the queen says. “Sacrificing your heart’s need for the benefit of your young. I shall continue his care on your behalf.”

  “Perfect. I’m destined to come back and take my grandfather’s place as Shrine-Keeper when he passes, so you never know, it might work out for us in a few years.”

  “A few years is a blip in the life of a wyrm dragon. It’s settled. You may reclaim him then.”

  I didn’t claim him in the first place, did I?

  I force a smile and nod. “Okeedokee. I should be going. My family is waiting, and I want to relay your warning. How do I get back to my grandparent’s home?”

  “The same way ye got here, Fi.” Patty taps his upper arm, right above his elbow. “Yer dragon band can be used as a portal to and from the lair from anywhere in the world and at any time.”

  Okay, good to know.

  I rub the boxy snout of the baby dragon and set him down with his siblings. “Bye, little blue dude. Grow up big and strong and be a good boy for your queen.”

  After I say goodbye to Patty and Her Scaly Scariness, I pull up my sleeve and hope I can materialize in the right place two times in a row. If bad guys are after my family’s grove of power, we need to be ready for them.

  Gripping the infinity dragon banding my arm, I focus on my grandparent’s property and getting there before the men in black cloaks target our family grove.

  It’s long past dark when I arrive, but the good news is that I’m standing in Gran’s kitchen. I’m thankful to be there and that we didn’t lose seven weeks this time. I figure if what felt like eleven days in the presence of a greater fae creature was seven weeks, then every six hours is a day, so every hour would be four and a bit… Right?

  Does that make sense?

  I think so.

  Anyway, it’s dark outside, but I can still smell dinner in the air, so I think it’s still the same day I arrived. I hope so.

  “Fi, mo chroi.” Da jogs in from the living room to hug me. “Yer back. Are ye all right?”

  I soak in Da’s embrace, and Kinu and Gran join us. “Ye look in better shape than yer last return from that place,” Gran says. “And ye smell a great deal better too.”

  “Are you hungry, Fi?” Kinu moves toward a ceramic cover and lifts it to show me a stacked plate. “We fought off the fiends and saved you some dinner.”

  “Starving, thanks. And yeah, it went fine. Just like Patty promised. It was a quick visit with friends.”

  “Ye’ve been gone for hours, luv.” Gran punches time into the microwave.

  I head over to the sink and wash up. “From my perspective, it was much faster. It felt like a half an hour, maybe an hour tops, so it probably was about four here if my math works out.”

  “About that.” Da points at the table.

  I take my cue and plunk down on the end chair. “And the boys are out there with Granda and Bruin?”

  “They are. Sloan went home to update his parents and help safeguard their grove.”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “So, what did ye find out from the she-dragon?”

  I fill Da in on what the Queen Dragon said and thank Gran when she sets a steaming plate of coddle in front of me. I smile and breathe in the succulence of sausage, potato, and bacon. “And when she said the men were all wearing black cloaks, I couldn’t help but think of Barghest.”

  “Ye think they’re global?” Da’s tone seems skeptical.

  “Who are these Barghest fellows?” Gran asks.

  “The ones who came after me in Toronto. The ones who kidnapped me that day and took me to the stones, remember?”

  “Och, I remember. I was scared out of my wits for ye.”

  I blow on a forkful of dinner. “That was Barghest.”

  “Did ye mention that name to yer Granda, luv? Because I’m sure I’ve heard the term before.” Gran gets up and heads out of the room. A few minutes later, she returns with a big old book called Magical Creatures of the Ages. “See here. The Barghest is a massive, mythical black dog thought to be a demon or a ghost or perhaps a goblin of some kind. Whatever its origins, it’s known to be vicious and deadly.”

  “So, the clandestine group trying to get rid of druids in Toronto and possibly here as well named themselves after a big black dog. That seems less scary than I thought.”

  “Maybe.” Da grips the handle of the water jug and fills me up. “But it doesn’t change a thing. We still don’t know who’s behind them or why they’re set on bringing down the Order.”

  “True.” I try to chew and swallow at a normal pace, but I’m ravenous, and this coddle is soooo good. “But it’s still information we didn’t have a few hours ago. When I finish, I want to go out to the grove and talk to Bruin. I think I might grab a sleeping bag and stay out there with him tonight.”

  Gran nods. “I’ll put together another bedroll and pillow for ye to take out after ye’ve had yer fill.”

  Red, wake up.

  I hear Bruin’s deep, rich timbre in my mind. He’s speaking to me using our internal connection, and I blink awake. By the burning behind my eyes and my lead-laden lids, it couldn’t be more than three or four hours since I laid my head down.

  Don’t speak, he directs. Don’t startle, but yer not alone.

  Is it Black Dog?

  No. It’s the hidden folk. The fae of the forest have come, and they seem quite curious about ye. They’re creepin’ close and are timid wee things. Ye don’t want to give them a fright.

  Should I sit up and talk to them?

  I don’t know. I’ve never seen so many gatherin’. What do ye think they want?

  I won’t know unless I interact with them. I lay there still for a moment longer before I crack my eyes open. The three-quarter moon casts a silvery light on the mossy clearing we chose to hunker down in. When my eyes adjust, it’s enough to see about fifteen feet in every direction and not much more.

  At first, I simply look and smile, but don’t
move.

  Bruin’s right. Gathered around our sleeping bag grouping, a dozen fae folk are checking us out. I wish I knew more about the different fae species to be able to identify what they are, but some are winged people as tiny as hummingbirds. Others are no bigger than Meg and have bobbing antennae and globe eyes, and others are the size of small humans but gaunt and with branches and leaves growing out of their arms and head.

  I tilt my head up a little and smile. “Hello.”

  Some of the hummingbird people flit back a few feet, but one of the tree ladies steps closer. “Merry meet, fleshy one.”

  Very slowly, and with my smile still firmly in place, I roll to sit up. Calum and Emmet are sound asleep in their sleeping bags beside me. Two of the hummingbird people seem particularly interested in Emmet’s snoring.

  “I’m pleased to meet you all.” I keep my voice quiet and my expression friendly. “I am Fiona.”

  “Lady Cumhaill, kin come from afar. Descendant of Fionn, we know who you are. You wear his mark. It is there on your back. He stood our warrior, but your skills lack.”

  Okay, ouch. The Tree of Life tattoo on my back appeared the morning after I first encountered Sloan. He assessed my latent druid abilities and found me with the strongest affinity of those in my family.

  I’ve thought about it a hundred times and believe that something he did triggered Fionn’s attention because it was then that my ancestor marked me with the Fianna crest and my life began to change.

  “I am not the warrior he was, no. The druid world is new to me, but I am honored and determined to follow his path.”

  “Fledgling are you. A great eagle was he. Yet you sleep on our roots to safeguard our trees?”

  I’m not sure what Fionn did to safeguard the fae folk, but I can’t imagine I would do any less. “I do. There are bad men intent on harming the druid sacred groves. One has already been destroyed and another damaged.”

  The tree lady dips her chin. “We mourn the slaughter of life and land. But viler still to be bound to command.”