I feel both the magic of the spell and Granda’s signature energy tingle over my skin. His palms are down, his fingers spread wide. Like Sloan, Granda doesn’t need to cast aloud, so I don’t know what spell he’s using.
Doesn’t matter. After a few tense moments, the snakes calm. Then pop, they’re gone.
“Good one, Granda,” Emmet says.
I catch the glint of pride in Sloan’s eyes as he smiles. “Well done, Lugh.”
“All right,” Granda says. “Off we go. We’ve got a long way to go and a short time to get there.”
“Wait,” Dillan says. “Isn’t that a Foreigner song?”
“It’s not,” Da corrects. “That’s Long Long Way From Home. Yer thinking of Eastbound and Down by Jerry Reed.”
“I thought the Road Hammers did that one.”
“Eastbound and Down, is that the one from Smokey and the Bandit?”
“That’s the one.”
I blink at them and wave. “Hello? Can we rein in the mental meltdown? Evil poisonous snakes are taken care of, but we’re still on a quest here.”
Da smiles. “Sorry, mo chroi. Letting off some tension.”
I chuckle and get back to my notes while leading the way. We pass the upright chest and follow the corridor down and to the left. When we make the next turn, I frown at the landslide of rubble and stone blocking our path. “Well, crap. Things were going so smoothly, too.”
Aiden frowns. “Do you think the vibration from the gravel quarry shook this loose? This is the westernmost end of the fortress, isn’t it?”
Dillan nods. “It is. I think yer right.”
“Do we double back or dig?” Emmet asks.
I flip through the notes and find the layout map. After I look at it, I hand it to Da and draw a line with my finger. “If we go back to where Sloan disenchanted the broken swords from impaling us at the armory, we might be able to use this back hall to get to the Grand Hall.”
“Do we have the booby-trap cheat sheet for that back section of the fortress?” Aiden asks.
We all look at Emmet, but he waves off the attention. “I’m done now. No more booby giggles. I’m over it.”
So, back to Aiden’s cheat sheet question. “No. I’m guessing Fionn’s plan was us taking the most direct route.”
“There were rudimentary tools in the repair room of the armory,” Calum says. “Maybe it’s better to dig and stay the course we know versus exploring blindly.”
“I agree with Calum,” Dillan says. “It puts us back on time, but that’s better than a poison dart to the throat. Besides, we’re not sure how to get out of here. Did anyone else worry about that when the door sealed behind us?”
Everyone’s hand goes up except mine.
“Okeedokee, well, I’m worried now. Thanks for that.”
“It’s decided then,” Dillan says, “we’ll dig and try to move forward instead of wandering around and getting dead.”
I nod and tuck the map away. “Perfect. Luckily, that works with my plan.”
When the boys turn to go, Da puts up his hand. Granda and Sloan are looking at us like we’re daft and they’re deciding whether to be annoyed or amused.
“What?” I ask.
Sloan shrugs. “Well, yer obviously not the only one having trouble connecting with the fact that yer druids now. Guys, it’s a dirt slide. And what domain do druids possess power over?”
“Nature.” I turn to look at the rubble. “Ohhhh, so we don’t have to dig?”
“No, Fi,” Granda agrees. “We don’t have to dig.”
Da cracks his knuckles and steps forward. “Ye’ll get there, kids. Ye’ve had to rely on yer strength and wits yer whole lives. Switching yer mindset to use yer powers will take time and practice.”
He steps into the center of the corridor and raises his hands. “Move Earth.” He gestures with his hands where the dirt should go. He makes great progress, and the soil shifts and splits. In no time at all, the dirt lines the outer edges of the corridor. We follow behind him as he clears our path, and we move another twenty or thirty feet deeper into the hill.
That’s when things get mucky.
“Okay, where’s the water coming from?” Aiden stares down at the wet sludge advancing on us.
“It’s magic.” The rightness of my words rings true as I say them. “It has the same energy behind it as the dirt slide. We need to use druid magic to pass this test, too.”
“Mr. Cumhaill.” Sloan moves in behind him. “Can ye pull the soil from the top? If I can see what’s on the other side, maybe I can portal through and see what we’re dealing with.”
“Is that safe?” My gut says no, but my Spidey-senses aren’t tingling. “Don’t do anything you’re not sure about. We don’t want you trapped or hurt by the next trial and us unable to get to you.”
“Fi has a point,” Granda says. “Take me with you, and we’ll work on things together.”
“I don’t like it.”
Granda looks at me and shrugs. “That’s it? Do ye have a specific reservation or just that?”
Just that. I don’t want them in harm’s way. But saying that to druid warriors would not only have them rolling their eyes at me but also insult them and their ability to take care of themselves in a crunch.
“Please be careful.”
Da nods at them and raises his arms as he focuses his Move Earth spell toward the top of the sliding, sludgy goo. After a minute or so, Aiden shines his light through to the corridor behind. “Take a look, Sloan. It looks like ten feet of dirt, then a massive chamber. I see tables and chairs.”
Sloan nods and holds out his hand, his gaze fixed on the Grand Hall hiding behind the living mud wall. When Granda’s hand clasps his, they both disappear.
I’m standing on my tippy-toes and trying to see when Da gets the mud down another foot. He’s there. They’re there. Safe and sound.
“All right, Niall,” Granda calls from the other side of the muddy mess. “I’m going to cast Mud to Stone. When ye feel the shift in form, release yer spell and get the kids through the opening.”
“Ready,” Da says.
The energy in the air doubles and the creeping progression of the sludge wall slows. A moment later, the mud is solid stone.
“All of ye, up and over,” Da orders.
Aiden grabs my hips and lifts me until I can get my knee over the stone dirt pile’s top edge. I climb through, followed by Calum, Dillan, and Emmet. Aiden is halfway through when the stone starts to shake.
A rumble beneath my feet has my heart tripping into double-time. “Get out of there.”
I rush toward my side of the stone wall. I’m imagining the horror of the wall turning back to mud and swallowing him when it disappears completely.
Aiden falls to the stone floor and lays prone. I drop to my knees beside him and lean to see his face. “Aid, are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“Ow,” he says, breathless.
He doesn’t move, so I give him a minute. Da helps him up, and I dust him off.
“You okay, Bro?” Calum checks in.
“Yeah. I’m good.” He’s holding his left side, and by the pained expression on his face, he’s not.
“What is it?” Sloan steps close. “A rib?”
“Maybe a couple.” Aiden places a flat hand against his side and grimaces. “I felt them snap when I hit.”
I wince, feeling a little woozy. “Sloan? Can you fix it?”
Sloan grins but doesn’t look at me. “Of course, I can. Knitting bones is child’s play. As long as the bone hasn’t punctured a lung or torn an aorta, everything will be grand.”
My mind completely skips the grand part and stalls out at the punctured lung or torn aorta. I want to ask what will happen if we’re dealing with one of those scenarios but can’t bring myself to speak the words.
Aiden will be fine. Next to Da, he’s our biggest and strongest hero. He has to be okay.
My woozy feeling grows in strength, and I blink against the ho
t flash taking hold. I try to focus on what Sloan’s doing, but he’s blurry and a bit spinny.
“Calum, she’s going over.”
“Crap on a cracker…”
One minute Sloan’s working on Aiden—he’s lying on the ground, and I’m standing over him—and the next minute, Sloan’s leaning over me, and I’m on the stone floor with Aiden and everyone else leaning over me.
“There ye are.” Sloan’s hand is cool on my forehead. “Just a faint. Yer fine.”
I blink and my cheeks heat. “I fainted?”
“Ye did.”
I push him back and sit up. “I don’t faint.”
“Says the girl drooling on the floor.”
I wipe my mouth and glare at Emmet. “I’m not drooling, you dork.”
Emmet chuckles and checks the screen of his phone. “Let me see…oh, no, you’re right.”
“I passed out, and you took pictures of me?”
He pegs me with a look and laughs. “Duh.”
“Okay, enough.” Da lifts me to my feet. “Ignore yer brother, Fi. Are ye all right, mo chroi?”
“Yeah.” I move to Aiden and hug him. He’s upright and whole and perfectly healthy. “I didn’t like seeing Aiden hurt. I guess my panic got away from me. After Brenny…”
Aiden tightens his muscled embrace and kisses my forehead. “I’m good, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m shaking and take an extra minute to absorb some of Aiden’s strength. “I miss him so much. We can’t lose anyone else.”
“And we won’t,” Da says. “That’s why we’re here, right? We’re working on being the strongest and most prepared for the adversity to come. We’re leveling up.”
I kiss Aiden’s dirty cheek and pick at the grit on my lips. “Okay, yuck. Let’s get back to it. Just know I love all you knuckleheads and if you die, I’ll kill you.”
“Back atcha, girlie,” Aiden says, and my brothers all nod their agreement. “Now, let’s finish this quest and go home. I, for one, need a shower.”
I laugh and cast a searching gaze to the ground. “Where are my notes?”
“I’ve got them, luv.” Granda points at his backpack. “Ye won’t need them for a bit. We’re here, ye see. We’re in the Grand Hall of the Fianna sanctuary.”
By the light of eight flashlights, the Grand Hall of the Fianna warriors appears to be a forty-foot room, organically shaped with a table-and-chair setup in the middle, statues of warriors along the curved wall behind, and cubbies filled with horn goblets, stone carvings, books and scrolls opposite that.
As cool as it is, there’s an eerie feel to it too.
It’s like the lives of these ancient men ended and their reality was held in stasis for us to find thirteen hundred years later. Their goblets and cutlery are strewn on the table. The trunks are stacked against the wall by the books.
“Did anyone bring Febreze?” Emmet asks.
I wrinkle my nose. He’s not wrong. It smells pithy in here. It’s an olfactory trifecta of stale earth, old air, and death.
Awesomesauce.
“Can someone get the lights?” Dillan pans his flashlight into the corners and darkest recesses.
“Are you imagining evil magical spiders coming for you, D?” Calum needles. “I heard Fionn had a thing for spiders.”
I catch Sloan’s creased brow and lean close. “It’s Dillan who has a thing for spiders. They’re tormenting him.”
Sloan chuckles. “Spendin’ time with yer family makes me glad to be an only child at times.”
I shake my head. “Never. Tormenting your siblings is the milk of the gods.”
“If ye say so.”
“Here we are, Dillan,” Granda says. “I’ve got ye, son.”
On each side of the entrance stands a metal fire dish held between a tripod of wooden staffs bound by leather thongs. Granda passes his hand over the container on the right, and it ignites, releasing a glow of golden flames. He repeats the process over the one on the left and continues with the five others around the room.
When all the fires are lit, I turn off my flashlight.
The space emits a different feeling when it doesn’t feel like we’re sealed inside a gray, lifeless crypt. I study our surroundings and let it soak way down deep.
“Ha! We’re in the Fianna-freaking-fortress, bitches!”
My family laughs. They’re long used to me. Granda raises a brow, and I’m not sure what the look is that Sloan flashes me. Honestly, I’m so jazzed that I don’t care.
I study the room and go for the trunks. “Dibs on anything that fits me.”
Aiden and Dillan join me by the iron-bound wooden trunks and start pulling them down from the stack and laying them on the floor. “The Fianna were male warriors, Fi. Unless they had a junior apprentice, I doubt much will fit you.”
“These statues are freaking cool,” Calum says.
Da and Emmet go over to check those out with him. Granda and Sloan are all about the books and nooks on the opposite wall.
“Dillan, help me lever this sucker open.”
As I watch, Aiden and Dillan work on getting the first trunk open. My mind whirs with ideas of what might be inside: treasure, clothes, weaponry, journals, armor…
“Give it up, you bastard,” Aiden grunts, really giving it.
“It’s not budging,” Dillan says.
I chuckle as Sloan’s voice speaks in my mind. “I just had an Obi-Wan moment.” I avoid any credit to my surly mentor. “It’s a druid’s chest. Maybe the brute force route isn’t the way to go here. All things of nature have intention and purpose. Maybe we need to appeal to the trunk’s sense of honor and duty.”
I push in and set my hands on the chest. Closing my eyes, I focus my intentions. “Hello, mighty chest.” I run my hands over the wood planking and feel the metal barbs of ancient metalwork. “My brothers and I are Fionn’s kin and are here on his behalf. I know you’re big and strong and supposed to guard his things, but it’s okay to let us see what you’ve got under the hood. We’re friends.”
“What’s she doing?” Emmet asks.
Dillan laughs. “I think she’s seducing the chest.”
“Kinky.”
Aiden chuckles. “Keep at it, Fi. I think you’ve got it hot and bothered, so don’t let him down now. He’s panting. Take him home.”
I roll my eyes and focus on the chest. “Okay, show them how much you appreciate a little attention. Open Sesame.”
A tingle of energy runs up my fingers from where I’m touching the chest and into my wrists and arms. It’s a connection, and I allow the magic to assess me. A moment later, the magic quiets and I open the lid.
“Suck it, all ye naysayers.”
Emmet snorts. “Fionn was a druid, not a swashbuckler.”
Calum laughs. “Oh, good. I’m not the only one who wondered about her going pirate.”
Dillan points at the other five. “How much have you got in you, little seductress?”
Chapter Seven
In the end, the chests hold little more than the dust of old clothing, a few pieces of turned metal Granda says would’ve been ancient keys and a couple of rudimentary knife blades with no hilts. He says those were likely wood and long ago disintegrated with time.
“Well, that’s depressing.” I join Sloan and Granda over by the cubbies. “Did you guys find good stuff over here?”
The two of them have cleared the book nooks of all their contents and look like they might burst with excitement.
Granda grips my shoulders in a state of giddy delight I’ve never seen with him before. “Och, Fi. Ye have no idea the treasures these pieces will be. Even to have a sample of the written word of Fionn…a journal…his thoughts… It means more to me than I can ever express.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Granda.” And while the historian in him obviously is, that doesn’t mean we’ve scored what we need. “Did you find anything about safeguarding the groves and the hidden folk from necromancy?”
“
It’ll take time to go through the texts. Ye have to understand, while I read and speak some of the ancient dialects of the Celtic languages, there have been changes over the centuries. What we found here today will take me years to fully understand.”
I scratch the tingle at the nape of my neck. “We don’t have years, Granda. We have days. The Black Dog wants to consume the life force of the fae creatures in the sacred groves, and I promised the tree lady I’d figure out a way to help.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Sloan sets a couple of scrolls aside and flips through a journal. “Patience is a virtue, remember?”
“Not one of mine.” I hear the edge in my voice and let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry. I’m cranky. I thought there would be something cool in those chests. Where are the enchanted weapons and keepsakes Fionn wanted us to collect? If there’s nothing here, I failed him.”
“Och, yer not going to fail him. Fi, come here to me.”
I don’t go. I don’t want a fatherly pep-talk right now. “Da. There’s nothing here. Fionn said the Grand Hall, but there aren’t any weapons or keepsakes.”
“Fiona Kacee, come here.” I give up my obstinance and do as Da asks. He’s standing fifteen feet from the statues and staring at them while smiling. “What do ye see?”
I draw a deep breath and look at them. They remind me of the dozens of white marble Greek and Roman statues I’ve seen at the Royal Ontario Museum. Every year, in every grade, our teachers would take us there for one reason or another. A historical exhibit, dinosaurs, rocks, and minerals, sketching for art class.
These are like those, except all of them have their arms and heads. “I see six stone statues of men—Fianna warriors would be my guess—staged in poses of their strengths and holding stone weapons. The one in the center with his arm raised above his head and wearing the druid crown is Fionn. I recognize him from when we hung out by the fire. I assume the others are his men.”
Da nods. “I agree, the man with the bow and quiver would be the range fighter. The one with two daggers is the stealth fighter. The big boy with the curved blade sword and buckler is a defensive fighter, and so is the one with the staff.”
A Sacred Grove (Chronicles of an Urban Druid Book 2) Page 6