Age of Druids Read online

  “I always do,” he said.

  “I know. You cannot be accused of neglecting your duties as a father. I will say that much for you.”

  “She’s so young,” he said. “I want her to stay little for a while, to be a normal kid as much as possible.”

  Eilidh laughed. “Oh, my darling Quinton. It’s a charming dream that will never be a reality, I’m afraid.” She kissed him again, then released him. “The night awaits,” she said with regret.

  “Thanks for not being upset about Alyssa.”

  A smile quirked on Eilidh’s lips. “You are a druid lord. You can bed who you want.”

  He knew she was teasing him. He’d seen the flash of annoyance on her face when he’d first told her about Alyssa’s proposition and the satisfaction when he said he’d sent her away. “Is that so? Anyone I want?”

  She shrugged, feigning indifference. “Naturally.”

  In an instant, he swept over to her, picked her up, and tossed her down on the bed. “All right,” he said as he lay down on top of her. “I choose you.”

  With a laugh, she tried to shove him aside. “Quinton! I have work to do. I must get dressed!”

  “Too bad. I’m a druid lord, and I can bed anyone I want. Even the queen of Caledonia.” She soon gave in to his kisses and returned them with a passion that reverberated through their bond.

  It was two hours later when he walked through the permanent gate back to the Halls of Mist. Lisle and Alyssa were standing in the courtyard of the Caledonian Hall, chatting when he arrived.

  “You’re late,” Lisle said.

  Munro was too relaxed to mind her chastisement much. “My humble apologies, my lady,” he said with a deep bow.

  She tsked in reply. “I need to ask a favour before I head to Eirlioc Falls.”

  He tilted his head. Whatever she wanted, it must be big. She looked as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as his mum would have said.

  “I want to borrow the flute,” she said. Her nervousness told him the request was important to her. She never asked for anything, and nobody had ever requested use of the flute.

  His hand went to the artefact hanging around his neck. He’d grown accustomed to having it with him all the time. The mere thought of letting the piece go made him feel vulnerable. The moment stretched, but Lisle waited patiently. “Fine,” he said. “On one condition: change your Druid Council vote. Vote for yourself to be raised as queen, and you can keep it.” True, the flute was a precious artefact, but he’d made great progress with the diadem. Before long, he might craft something equally powerful but more appropriate to his own gifts.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I will vote for the person best suited for the job.” She held out her hand impatiently.

  With a sigh, he removed the thong holding the small instrument. “Fine, but I want it back in that case.” That he’d capitulated so quickly told him he was unfit for the tough negotiations required of a king. If he couldn’t even stand up to his friends to make a hard bargain, he’d be useless against a true opponent.

  She hung the artefact around her neck. “Of course. I never intended to keep it.” She turned to Alyssa. “Come along, girl.”

  Alyssa picked up a pack sitting at her feet. Lisle signalled for her to go ahead, and the Mistwatcher approached the gate to Caledonia without meeting Munro’s gaze. He started to say something, but Lisle shook her head. “It’s better if you don’t,” she murmured, then added, “I will either return or send word in two nights.”

  “Okay. I’ll let everyone know,” Munro said. Once both women passed through, he made his way to the Druid Hall. Going to his suite to grab a few supplies before heading to Danastai, he ran into Rory in the corridor. The red-haired Scotsman had a pack in his hand.

  “Where are you off to?” Munro asked.

  “I’m going to Danastai with you.”

  “I thought you were going to work on the artefacts request list. There’s stuff on it I’m sure you can handle.”

  “Oh, me and my shite runework?” Rory said hotly.

  “That isn’t what I said. We both know stone isn’t your strongest element, but not everything asked for has to be carved in stone. What’s your problem?”

  Rory sighed. “I feel weird ever since I left Flùranach with Ewain. I need to make sure she’s okay.” His tone betrayed regret.

  “Can you sense something? I thought you released your bond.”

  “I did,” Rory said. He hesitated. “I’m so used to knowing where she is and what she’s doing, how she feels. I talked myself into thinking I did the right thing leaving her behind, but what if she’s not okay?”

  “I’ll check on her while I’m there,” Munro said. “Someone needs to work on those artefacts or maybe the gates if you can make some progress on them. We’re so far behind.”

  “Then you stay here and do the shit work, and I’ll go to Danastai,” Rory spat.

  Aaron and Sheng came out of one of the side rooms, talking quietly together. Aaron looked up when he heard the raised voices.

  “I’m travelling to Danastai alone,” Munro said. He couldn’t see anything good coming from Rory visiting Flùranach if their parting had been as heated as he’d indicated.

  “What’s going on?” Aaron asked as he approached.

  “Munro thinks he’s king. He’s already made himself the bloody crown,” Rory grumbled.

  “Whoa,” Aaron said. “Is there a problem?”

  Munro was fed up with Rory’s moodiness. “At least I’m making something and trying to figure out how the delving magic works. You can mope over Flùranach as usual, but I have work to do. You’re not coming with me.” Munro was so annoyed. Rory could be such a pain.

  “Says who?” Rory said. “You aren’t king yet. Without my vote, you won’t ever be.”

  “Bloody hell, Rors. I don’t want the job. Want me to write it down so you remember?”

  “Sure you don’t,” Rory said. “That’s why you’re marching around and giving everyone orders, deciding who works on what and who goes where? Maybe I’ll be king,” he said. “See how you like being told what to do.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Calm down, Rory. You know we all have equal say in decisions. If I recalled, you asked Munro how you could help.”

  Rory glared at him. “Did you hear what Fiyr said, that he was the first?” He jabbed his finger in Munro’s direction. “That’s bollocks. You, me, Phillip, Frankie, and Douglas were druids together long before King Police Constable came along. It should be you or me giving the orders, not him. If nobody will vote for me, fine, then you should be the one,” he nodded at Aaron.

  “If Sheng and Lisle agree,” Munro said, “I’ll cast my vote now. We’ll make it unanimous.” Eilidh would be annoyed, but Aaron would make a good leader. Munro couldn’t cast his vote based on his wife’s ambitions for their daughter. He pushed past the other three men. “I’m getting my stuff. Then I’m going to Danastai. Alone.”

  Rory called after him. “You planning to use your magic crown to stop me?”

  Munro spun around. What the hell was wrong with Rory today? “I won’t have to. I can still kick your arse from here to next Tuesday. Why don’t you find something useful to do? It would be a nice change.” The weariness that had lifted during his day with Eilidh settled on his shoulders again. He turned and resumed his walk to his suite.

  Rory grumbled something, but Munro was too far down the corridor to make out what the other man said. At this point, he didn’t care. What he couldn’t believe was that Rory’d actually suggested himself for the throne. Of all the druids, he would be the last one on Munro’s list. He’d vote for Sheng before he’d vote for Rory, the selfish git. But after this argument, Munro realised they did need structure and leadership. Threatening to batter someone who didn’t recognise his authority wasn’t going to work. They needed a chief, and not him. It had to be someone everyone would respect. As soon as Lisle got back from Caledonia, they�
�d have another chat, this time a more serious one. No way would anyone talk to Lisle like Rory had just done to him.

  Inside his suite, he picked up the diadem he’d left on a side table. He ran his hands along the runework, and the magic responded to his touch. With Rory’s words ringing in his ears, he decided to stow it until he got to Danastai. When he returned, he’d make finding a hat in which to conceal the metal band a priority.

  Chapter 10

  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 genu
inely 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.