Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords (11 page)

“Save my life? From whom?”

“You and your brother druids’ powers and positions are still in an embryonic stage. What if the queens decided they didn’t want humans to wield
any
power in the Halls of Mist? Can you defend yourselves? Can you live without the gifts and assistance of the queens? Could you even return to the human realm if they decided to cut off your access to their lands?”

“Eilidh would never isolate us,” Munro said.

“No,” Oszlár said. “You’re right.” He settled back in his chair and smiled. “What brings you to the library today? We’ve not read together for some weeks. I always enjoy learning from your translations.” Fae runes did not symbolise any alphabet, but instead represented concepts and the magically imbued intent of the rune creator. Therefore, every reader might interpret a rune in a different way. Munro had discovered the druids’ talent for using runes, although none of the others had the ability to read as widely as he did. He had the ability to translate entire stories, even the oldest and most complex. The others seemed to find an affinity with a few runes that spoke to them, but struggled with anything more.

“I’d like to study the Source Stone,” Munro said.

Oszlár’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“It’s the most interesting artefact here.”

“And the most powerful. Are you not content with the changes it brought about already, through mere moments of contact?”

“Content?” Munro asked, surprised. “I don’t want anything from the Stone. I only want to understand it.”

A smile spread across Oszlár’s face, and he laughed. “My dear friend, I have studied the Source Stone for thirteen centuries, and
I
do not fully grasp its mysteries.”

“That artefact changed me fundamentally,” Munro said. “Every alteration to my body, to my mind, maybe even my understanding of the runes came about because of this rock. Even faeries can’t tell what I am anymore. It choses queens.” He leaned forward, growing excited. “How can any stone choose a queen? How does it know who should rule? Who has the best mind, the best heart?”

Oszlár watched him closely, but didn’t answer.

“I remember when I read the Killbourne Wall, when we learned that the first druids, the draoidh sorcerers, may have created the fae. The interpretation rang true. Essentially, we are creators. I knew the ancient runemakers were those same druids. They had to be. The fae have the ability, but it’s limited to a shadow of what I can do.” He stood and paced, unable to contain his energy. “So, yes, if the ancient druids can make a faerie, a magnificent, sentient being who can think, grow, perform magic, love, live, die, why not make a stone that can reason? But how?”

“You think if you can understand the Stone, you can create another?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. There aren’t enough of us. We have missing pieces. I can make stone objects move, sometimes even in a lifelike way, but they’re just rocks.”

“Why has Lord Druid Huck Webster not come to touch the stone?” Oszlár asked him, his swirling gaze penetrating through Munro’s musing.

The druid paused and considered. “I think he isn’t in a hurry to change. He was eager to join us in the beginning. Now he spends much of his time in the human realm. He isn’t prepared to let go. Someday he will. When he’s ready.”

“And you? Are you in a hurry to change?”

“You think I’ll change even more if I touch the Stone again?” Munro asked, surprised. The idea hadn’t occurred to him. What further changes might happen to him? But then, what
couldn’t
the Stone do? He had no idea of its powers or limitations. All the more reason to learn as much as possible.

“I’m not certain,” Oszlár admitted. “We possess no written records of the draoidh interacting with the Stone. I would, however, advise caution. Our people depend on the Stone. Yes, it may change you, but there is also the chance
you
may change
it
. Without the Stone, the fae will die.”

“I’ve already touched it once, like most of the others. You weren’t worried then.”

“You are more powerful now than you were in the beginning,” Oszlár said.

Munro considered. Was he? He’d felt like a god right after encountering the Stone, but the mood faded. Now he considered himself a mostly normal guy with a few enhanced natural abilities. “I’d like to visit the chamber, at least. Do you think that’s all right?”

Oszlár agreed and led Munro into the lower area where only the keepers themselves and the druids were permitted to go. Unlike last time, the pair went alone. The round room bore a hard chill, and the runes covering the walls remained silent, at least for the moment.

On both of his previous visits, all the keepers had been there. They had raised the Source Stone from the floor with a rhythmic chant. Now, Oszlár stood alone on the opposite side of the round chamber, watching Munro closely. Power emanated from the Stone’s resting place. The air in the chamber felt heavy and thick.

Munro turned his attention to the rune-covered walls. When he’d last entered, he’d ignored the symbols carved around him. “Who made these?” he asked the keeper, running his hand over the cool, stone surface.

“Many hands,” Oszlár replied.

Munro nodded and moved towards the centre of the room. The Stone rested, embedded into the floor. With careful steps, he paced around it, probing as he did when he read runes, but none of its secrets were revealed. The artefact eluded him, as though it contained no runes at all.

“What is the meaning of the chant
you use when you raise the stone?” Munro asked.

Oszlár thought for a moment. “In your language, roughly, ‘Awake and listen. Receive our sacrifice. Accept our offering.’”

Munro frowned. He wondered if he would interpret their invocation differently. “Would you write down the runes for the chant?”

“No,” Oszlár said. “We hold the words sacred. Our oaths forbid us from teaching them to anyone other than an initiated keeper. To inscribe them would provide too great a risk.”

“Of course,” Munro said. He understood. If someone else learned how to raise the Stone, that might prove disastrous. “Thank you for telling me.” He did wonder why Oszlár had. Perhaps he believed it would do no harm, considering the druids had already heard the words, even if they didn’t understand the fae tongue.

Munro looked around the room one last time. The magic in the air was thick, but not overwhelming. “I’m no closer to understanding how the artefact works,” he said, disappointed that nothing had come to him. He’d thought for sure if he came here again, especially now that he’d learned more about runes, something would have made sense.

Oszlár shook his head with a smile. “You are so young,” he said under his breath.

Munro flushed with embarrassment. Of course if the fae hadn’t unlocked the Stone’s secrets over thousands of years, he was unlikely to work it out in fifteen minutes. “Perhaps we can come back another time,” he said.

The aged keeper gestured to the door. They walked up the long, winding stairs together. “I wonder if we should begin with something less…complex. There are other objects of power. Ancient ones. I will consult with the keepers, and you and I can work with them together, if you like.”

Munro nodded. “I recall in one story, we read about enchanted weapons.” He avoided mentioning the scholar, Ríona, who’d first showed him the tale. She’d died horrifically because of her association with him. His gut churned at the unwelcome memory.

“Ah yes. The Andenan artefact. I remember.” Thankfully, Oszlár didn’t mention her either, but his expression suggested the story would now always remind him of her.

“Do any of these weapons still exist?”

“Do you believe you need a weapon?”

They reached the entrance of the library, and Munro laughed. Oszlár had an annoying way of answering questions with questions. “I have no interest in weapons, only in enchantments. An enchanted peanut would be as interesting to me as a sword.”

Oszlár chuckled. “Lord Druid Quinton Munro,” he said and bowed formally. “You grace us with your presence as always. I will research your request about the Andenan runes. May the Mother favour your path.”

Only then did Munro realise the room was not empty. He wished he understood why Oszlár was so determined to put on these formal performances when anyone else was around. Was the druids’ position really so precarious? “Thank you. I’ll see you again soon, Keeper Oszlár.” He bowed his head and left. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he set off for the Druid Hall.

∞

Rory watched Huck jogging ahead of him and Flùranach as they raced through the Ashkyne Otherworld. The American druid seemed lost in his own thoughts, excited on one hand, but angry and spoiling for a fight on the other. Rory hoped the run would calm him down. They’d need to keep their heads when talking to Eilidh. She was a friend, but she was also a queen. He’d have to find a way to frame their request with care. Naturally, they’d talk to Munro first, but Eilidh would probably want to speak with them all to get the full story. From what Rory had learned about the balance of power between the queens, sneaking a druid out of the Ashkyne borderlands and through Eilidh’s territory would be no small thing. And how would they explain to the fae world about Demi’s child with Konstanze’s brother? What a mess.

Flùranach loped beside Rory with ease. She glanced over, her hair catching the early morning rays of the Otherworld sun. “I would like to speak with you alone,” she said.

He had mixed feelings. How could he ignore the bad things she’d done? On the other hand, he hadn’t forgotten the good times either.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “You don’t trust me yet.”

Her words made him falter, and Huck raced even farther ahead. Rory didn’t try to catch up. He didn’t particularly want Huck to witness this conversation. Nothing about this situation would be comfortable for anyone, so the fewer people involved, the better. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said. When Flùranach said she knew what he was thinking, she meant it literally. If people voiced their contemplations internally, she had the ability to hear the words as though they’d said them aloud.

She matched his pace. “This is what I am. I can’t change my magic any more than you can change yours.”

He didn’t answer, but kept his attention on the path. The grassy hill below their feet became white and sandy as they approached a beach. The sunrise over the green-tinged ocean was like nothing he’d seen on the beaches of Scotland. The light here was so much truer, the colours brighter. The deep sand slowed them further. He could just make out Huck ahead, his feet splashing as he ran at the edge of the incoming tide.

“I’m sorry I disappeared. I heard there was an extensive search for me,” she said.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” He hadn’t been involved in the search nor asked for updates. Of course, he wondered from time to time where she’d gone, but how could he not?

“I owe you so much more than that.”

Rory’s bones ached with weariness. As usual, they’d been up all night, and he wanted to crawl into bed for a few hours. He needed less sleep than he used to, especially since touching the Source Stone, but the events of the last day and finding Flùr again had exhausted him. “Look, let’s put the bonding thing in the past, okay? I want to move on.”

“Do you mean that?” She sounded hopeful.

“I’ve said from the start that we need you. Things went much smoother tonight because you were there. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. We wouldn’t have discovered the boy was half-fae, for one. She certainly wasn’t eager to tell us.”

“I’m happy to aid the Druid Hall. I’ve always loved you all.” She watched him closely, and he felt the weight of her stare.

He remembered how their lives had been in the beginning. But she’d been a little girl then, and everything had changed since. Even after the time stream transformed her into a young woman, though, they’d had some nice days together. He’d been so attracted to her, so confused by it all. “Why did the keepers hide you?” he asked.

Only then did her intense look waver. She glanced away. “I’m not supposed to talk about such things.”

“Why did Oszlár say you were the key to saving us all? Did he mean faeries, druids, or both?”

She kept silent for a long time. Her expression told him she was torn. “I’m not supposed to talk about such things,” she repeated.

He stopped dead and grabbed her arm, spinning her so they stood toe-to-toe. “You serve the Druid Hall!”

“I do.” She met his eyes and held his gaze. “I will serve you always.” That
you
was so much more personal than a simple statement of where she was employed.

“So tell me the truth!” he shouted.

“If you command me to break my vow to the keepers, I will,” she whispered.

She stood there, her red lips slightly parted, her fiery hair whipping in the ocean breeze, and he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to slap her. He wanted to shake her and beat her, but mostly he wanted to kiss her. Only willpower held him in place.

She knows
, he thought.
She knows I want to strangle her and that I want to take her.
He imagined her willing him to do one or the other…or both.