Age of Druids (17 page)

Without waiting to find out who Leocort had assigned as his new bodyguard, Munro left for Danastai. He wasn’t yet ready to replace Alyssa, still feeling troubled about the encounter that so quickly ended their working arrangement and likely their friendship. Once he entered the Danastai kingdom, he put on the iron diadem. The immediate sensations were pleasurable: a slight tingling of his skin, a reconnection to the flows of magic, and the impression of opening a second set of eyelids. Without the sight that first the flute and now the crown provided, the world appeared grey and lifeless.

He made a few adjustments, using his earth talents to shape the crown so it wouldn’t slip or rub. Of course, iron was heavy. He’d worked the metal as thin as possible while still able to hold runes on both sides of the rim. Although a crown would likely never be comfortable, the benefits outweighed the awkwardness. Eventually, he’d get used to the weight.

The city looked exactly as Sheng had described, but Munro felt uneasy in the alien environment. The surrounding buildings seemed both dead and very much alive. He wouldn’t have needed Sheng’s directions to Ewain’s palace. Lines of magical flows spread out like ribbons, all leading straight ahead.

Munro followed. Passing through the ancient city, he could imagine it new and full of life. Had the thousands who must have occupied this place so long ago all died when the fae cut Danastai off from the rest of the Otherworld? He could envision families and children, markets and traders, farmers and craftsmen going about their business on the wide cobble streets that had all but disappeared.

He stopped when he reached a dead end. A blank and crumbling wall blocked his way, yet he saw a stream of power heading through the wall as though it wasn’t there.
Flùranach.
She must be using illusion to stop him. Without his crown, he never would have suspected the structure was anything but real.

He held out a hand and touched the wall. It felt real, down to the crumbling grey stone. As soon as his skin made contact, however, he recognised the barrier was constructed of glowing blue flows of magic. Gently probing, he peeled the magic away one thread at a time. The deception was intricately crafted, but within a few minutes, he’d worked a hole large enough to pass through.

Above the tall stairway loomed the palace. Whispers came to his ears, strange skittering sounds making his skin crawl with dread. He focused on the power source ahead.

“Help me!” Flùranach called from behind him. “Please!” The silence that followed was broken by a woman screaming in terror.

His heart beat faster, but Munro ignored the pleas. Flùranach was desperate to keep him away, and he wanted to find out why.

When a giant spider dropped on the path halfway up the stair, Munro was growing annoyed with her efforts. He reached out and grabbed one of its legs. The creature melted into streams of blue light. Instead of releasing the magic, he used it as a tether to lead him onward.

As he approached, he wondered why coming here had been so important. He didn’t
need
to speak with Ewain. In fact, it might be better to leave the old druid in peace. If Flùranach chose to stay with him, what business was it of his?

Munro struggled to shake off her manipulation. He
wanted
to go home. If he hadn’t known Flùranach so well, he very well might have. Her touch with influence was more subtle than with illusion, more powerful than he’d experienced from her before. So despite wanting to leave, believing he
should
leave, he pressed on, following the light he grasped from the spider.

After a long climb, he reached the top of the stairs. The desire to leave vanished. The dark and uninviting palace stood in front of him, and Flùranach’s power led him inward. He entered an immense, dank room with dangerous-looking cracks on the ceiling and mould growing where damp seeped up the walls.

He felt completely alone in the empty room, and yet in the centre was a mass of twining power, ribbons flicking out in every direction, including toward him and in each place he focused his attention. She was following his eyes, subtly changing the scene as he looked. Finally, he stared at the source of the power. “I can see you, Flùranach,” he said. “Can you cut the crap? You’re giving me a headache.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath and watched the ribbons recede as she hesitated. If she turned all her power on him, he would be unlikely to withstand a direct attack. He hoped she didn’t feel the need to go so far.

Flùranach materialised in front of him. She appeared in an elegant, shimmering gown very like one he’d seen Eilidh wear on state occasions. The room grew warmer and the mildew and grime disappeared. Two chairs sat in front of an inviting fireplace, just as Sheng had described them. Her clothing, the jewels in her carefully arranged hair, and some decorative touches were clearly illusion, judging by the strands of her influence he still saw dancing around. He could think of no reason not to let her have her vanity.

“How?” she asked him. Not
hello
. Not
sorry for the B.S. but I do wish you’d bugger off
, but
how?
“Does the crown allow you to penetrate the flows?” Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the runes carved into its surface. “I can’t read many of them. How did you craft an object that would dispel illusion?” As recently as a few days ago, she never would have spoken so belligerently to him.

“Where is Ewain?” Munro asked, ignoring her questions. “I need to speak with him.”

“He isn’t here.” For a moment, she looked worried. “You should leave. He told me not to allow anyone in the palace while he was gone.”

Munro frowned. “What happens if he finds out I was here?”

She froze, giving away nothing. “He will be displeased.”

“Is he hurting you? Controlling you?” He was prepared to take her home then and there. No one in their right mind would want Ewain as an enemy, but Munro wouldn’t leave Flùranach to a life of abuse.

She answered his questions with a sharp laugh. “Hurting me? No, Lord Ewain isn’t doing me harm.”

“Controlling you?” Munro pushed.

“I’ve chosen to serve,” she said. She tilted her head, considering Munro, and her expression softened. “Thank you for asking.”

“You don’t have to stay. Nobody has the right to sell or trade you. You never belonged to us. If you don’t want to be here, tell me now.”

“Where would I go?” Flùranach shook her head. “I’m sure you mean well, but I won’t return to the Druid Hall.” She gestured around the room. “This is my home now.”

He considered telling her Rory was worried about her, but decided not to mention him. “Do you know when Ewain will be back?”

She shook her head. “He said a few nights. He left while the sun was still in the sky.”

Munro nodded, disappointed. “I brought some of your things.” He slipped the pack off his shoulder and handed it to Flùranach. “The Mistgate will reopen in two hours. I never planned to stay long this trip. I only wanted to ask Ewain a couple of questions and make sure you were all right.”

She accepted the bag and looked inside. He’d packed some of her clothing, including a solid pair of boots. She might enjoy the illusion of a ball gown, but in this barren ruin of a city, sturdy shoes would be a welcome relief. He’d gathered jewellery, letters, undergarments, and the rose stone artefact he’d made for her when they’d first met. One of the cooks gave him some dried meat and nuts, the two foods he thought would keep the best.

“I can bring supplies if you need anything,” he said. “The fae kingdoms are generous in their tribute to the Druid Hall, and we have more than we can use.”

For the first time since her arrival, she gave a genuinely warm smile. “Thank you,” she said and retrieved the rose stone from the pack. “You’ve always been kind to me.”

“You deserve at least that, Flùr. You’re sure you want to stay? Is Ewain kind to you?”

She grinned and put the pack beside the fireplace. “
Kind
is maybe not the right word, but I feel useful, needed. Lord Ewain is a great man, and I belong with him. He is offering me a chance to be great too.” Her tone was tinged with genuine admiration and affection for the elder druid, the sort that couldn’t be faked. She sounded happy, but not giddy like a child. She seemed more adult than he’d seen her before. Perhaps she did belong here.

“Where did Ewain go today?” Munro asked. He was more curious than he cared to admit. “I’m surprised he’d leave you alone.”

“I’m safe enough. I’m not defenceless,” she added with a smile.

“No, you’re not. Your illusions were good. Your influence even better.”

She beamed with pride. “Lord Ewain agrees. In this short time, he’s taught me nuances of my power I’d never explored before.” After a moment of hesitation, she glanced at the pack beside the fire. “He said something about The Way before he left.”

“The gate I found in the human realm?” Munro froze. Surely Ewain hadn’t travelled to Colorado. That idea discomfited Munro.

“Yes,” she said. “He said its connection point wasn’t far from here.”

“It’s connected to the Otherworld still? How strange. It appeared broken to me.” He attempted to keep his tone light, but his mind was reeling. So The Way connected the human realm to Danastai, but why did it look so different from normal Otherworld gates? Ewain had held something back, but what? If Munro couldn’t get the information from Flùranach now while Ewain wasn’t here to shut her up, Munro might never find out.

She nodded. “I didn’t understand everything he said. He wasn’t talking
to
me so much as
near
me. He’s been alone a long time. I think the extended solitude of his imprisonment made him slightly eccentric.”

Munro thought
eccentric
too mild a word, but he didn’t say so. She clearly adored Ewain, and he didn’t want to discourage her from continuing her explanation. If he prodded too hard, she might close up. Instead, he waited. Most people needed to fill a silence, and Flùr was no exception.

“His stories fascinate me. The Way had something to do with time. He’s been delving into my temporal abilities to see if my exposure made me as strong as with a natural temporal faerie.”

“Has it?”

She beamed with pride. “You should see him. Since delving into my power, he’s regressed his own age. You’d hardly recognise him. He looks younger than my grandfather.”

“Impressive,” Munro said. Her accident with time had been a trauma she never spoke of, but the effects had haunted her. He didn’t realise she’d absorbed some of Tràth’s temporal power.

“Isn’t it? I’ve already learned so much. I had no idea a gate could connect several points in time as well as several locations. Of course, he said he would need to wait until Rory brought him the Cup of Cultus before attempting to use it.”

“I wonder why the artefact is so important,” Munro said. “I assume it’s druid work?”

Flùranach nodded. “He said he didn’t make it though. Someone named Juno did.”

Juno.
She was a blood druid from Ewain’s time.
The
blood druid, one of the original humans who, according to some interpretations of ancient runestones, had created the Otherworld.

“Did he tell you what the Cup does?” Munro asked. When she looked at him askance, he added, “We’d appreciate anything that might help us find it. The rune Ewain gave Rory led him presumably to the sea fae. He had to abort his attempt until we could prepare to cope with being in the underwater kingdom. I told the others I’d talk to Ewain, learn what I could to help them. Since he’s not here, you’re my only hope.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy her, but she shook her head. “I don’t know what the Cup looks like or specifically what it does, just that he won’t try to open the gate until he has it.”

“Won’t open the gate without the Cup, or can’t?”

Flùranach tilted her head. “Can’t, I believe.” She narrowed her eyes as though trying to read Munro’s thoughts. Fortunately, her astral powers didn’t extend that far.

“Okay, thanks. That helps.” Munro had no idea what this information meant, but he recognised this was all he would wrangle out of her. If Ewain planned to be away for another couple of nights, Munro saw no point hanging around. “I should go. If I don’t head back soon, Leocort will probably send a search party.” He chuckled. “Unless you want me to stay and keep you company? I can come back after I check in if you want.”

Flùranach smiled. “No, I have work to do before Lord Ewain returns from the plains, but thank you.” She hesitated. “Would you tell Rory I’m sorry? I was angry when he left. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. Our relationship has always been difficult. He’s been hard on me, unforgiving of my mistakes. When I saw a way out, I…” Her voice trailed off and she didn’t finish the sentence.

“Of course,” Munro said. “You know, he does care about you, in spite of everything. He asked me to make sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you, my lord druid,” she said, addressing him formally for the first time since he arrived. Before he left, she kissed his cheek. “Goodbye.”

He had a sudden, irrational feeling something bad was going to happen, like he wouldn’t ever see her again. This kind of gut instinct had plagued him when he was a cop. With a sigh, he said, “Goodbye, Flùr. Take care of yourself.”