Caledonia Fae 04- Druid Lords Read online

  With a barely perceptible sigh, Yurnme stood. “Where can I find the head keeper?” he asked with just enough respect to save himself from chastisement.

  “Below,” Munro replied. The lower part of the library housed only one chamber, and that room held one object: the Source Stone, the most sacred and mystical object in the faerie realm. Munro had discovered a few months before that the artefact had been made by human druids, a revelation that changed the way faerie society regarded him and his brother druids.

  Yurnme’s lazy attitude annoyed him. At one time, Munro wouldn’t have detected the subtle insult in the faerie’s expression. Now Munro recognised the minute gestures, the flickers of emotion that had once eluded him. To snap the faerie into action, he added, “The gates are shifting.”

  Every faerie in the large sitting area gave him their full attention. Faces turned, and a cold silence fell over the already quiet room. Then, just as abruptly, the faeries leapt into motion, whirring as they moved with super-human speed. One approached him. “Will you be summoning Queen Eilidh yourself, my lord druid?”

  “Yes,” Munro replied. He hadn’t considered doing so, but if something important was happening, she might want to hear the news from him.

  “Then I suggest you make haste,” the keeper said. “The queens must gather immediately.”

  Munro turned to go, urgency swirling around him. What did this mean? The Halls of Mist, which contained the Great Library, The Druid Hall, and halls for every one of the faerie kingdoms, connected to the kingdoms through a portal near the library entrance. The huge blue ball of light that allowed the kingdoms to connect in this strange, in-between place rested directly over the Source Stone. This, Munro had learned, was no coincidence.

  When he arrived at the portal, two queens were already there. He didn’t know either of them well, but then there were many faerie queens, all ruling independent nations, some small and some much larger. Eilidh’s kingdom was, in comparison to most, quite small, at least as represented by its connection to the human realm. Faerie kingdoms were anchored in what he still thought of as the real world by a series of gates. The more gates a queen controlled, the more political sway she had.

  He nodded to the two queens, and they inclined their heads, showing their respect. As he stepped into the dazzling blue light, he thought about how much things had changed. Not too long ago, faeries regarded humans with disgust, like some kind of talking animals. His discovery about the ancient artefact called the Killbourne Wall forced them all to reconsider those opinions, whether they wanted to or not. The runes on the wall told the faerie creation story and revealed that human druids were draoidh, sorcerers of ancient tales the fae revered above all others, even queens.

  The draoidh once wielded almost unlimited power in the faerie realm, and Munro had discovered why. They were creators. Not only of runes and artefacts, but possibly of the entire fae race. The druids now living in the Halls of Mist had nowhere near the level of knowledge required to create sentient, living creatures. So much had been lost over the thousands of years since the original draoidh disappeared. But these modern druids did have remarkable abilities, and he had hope they would someday restore what had died out.

  The moment Munro arrived on the other side of the portal, he felt a sense of belonging, of warmth and love. His bonded faerie, soon to be his wife, filled his mind. Something about the portal between Caledonia and the Halls of Mist dampened their connection, and her presence always relieved him.

  The round portal shimmered on an immense circular platform, surrounded by Watchers. He saw one he knew. “Bran,” he called and walked down the steps quickly.

  “Yes, my lord druid,” the Watcher said with a bow of his head.

  “I need the queen to come at once,” Munro said. “Can you send your fastest runner with a message?”

  “If your need is official and urgent,” the Watcher replied, “I will send a signal.”

  Munro hesitated a moment. “Do that,” he said.

  Bran nodded and turned to another. Raising his voice, he said, “The druid lord summons the queen.” The somewhat younger Watcher’s eyes went a bit wide.

  Munro had only lived in the Otherworld for a couple of years, but he knew summoning a queen was a rare occurrence. He opened his mouth to explain, even though technically he didn’t have to, when a familiar voice intruded into his thoughts. How I love to sense your presence, Quinton. You seem disturbed. I hope you plan to stay in Caledonia for a while. I miss you.

  His inability to answer her frustrated him. He hoped she would receive whatever signal Bran sent and come quickly.

  “If you’d step back, my lord druid. The beacon will become quite bright,” Bran said. He lifted his right arm to the sky and whispered. All the Watchers in the circle did the same. From his fingertips came a blinding golden light. The beam shot into the air and joined with lights each of the other Watchers created.

  Munro realised he didn’t have cause to worry that she would miss the signal The higher it grew, the more the vast ball of light dwarfed the portal itself. Together the Watchers called, “Advance!” and the light flashed once, then zoomed away, leaving a glowing trail behind it.

  “She’ll come?” Munro asked Bran. He’d never seen them use anything like this before.

  “Yes,” Bran said. “Her majesty will most certainly come.” He smiled. “That was exciting. We haven’t sent a signal in a long time. I cannot help but express my curiosity,” he added.

  Munro didn’t see any harm in telling the Watchers the news. Nobody had indicated he should keep the events to himself, and with the big ball of light flying towards the queen, his message wouldn’t stay secret long. “The gates are shifting,” Munro told him.

  The faerie’s eyes widened and swirled with a flash of magic. “Caledonia?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. The keepers are summoning all the queens.”

  “They always do,” another faerie nearby said.

  Munro didn’t quite understand, but the Watchers were clearly worried about the implications of what he told them. “I’ll send word as soon as I have some information.”

  Bran looked startled. “You are too kind, my lord druid.”

  With worry now weighing more heavily on him than before, Munro stepped through the portal and returned to the Halls of Mist.

  Chapter 2

  Demi Hartmann locked the door behind her and pulled the bolt into place. The habitual action wouldn’t stop him, locks never had, but the sound of the metal sliding into place comforted her anyway. Leaning against the door in the darkened entryway, she breathed for a moment. Damn. She’d needed that job. The savings she and her grandmother lived on wouldn't last forever.

  Her grandmother called from the other side of the house, in German, of course, “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Omi,” Demi shouted. “It’s starting to rain harder now.” She unwound the long scarf from her neck and hung it on a hook near the door, then placed her jacket next to it. She shivered, but not from the cold. She didn’t want to tell her grandmother she’d been followed home. She was tired of moving. When they left Berlin, they’d moved to southern Germany, then over into Austria. Then when he found them, they’d doubled-back to Zurich. The larger the city, the longer before he found her, but he always did. Omi had been the one to choose the Netherlands. Nearly three-quarters of the population spoke German, and even more English, which Demi had learned in school. Her grandmother’s English was passable, but they hoped this time, they would have a while before he caught up with them. Part of her dared to hope he might not find her at all.

  She tousled the damp out of her hair and made her way up the stairs to the main living room. By the time she arrived, she managed to paste a smile on her face. “Where’s my little man?” she called through the doorway.

  A small boy lay on the couch next to her grandmother, his head nestled on the older lady’s bosom. He beamed through sleepy eyes. The bright smile melted her worries away. “Mama!”


  “Come kiss me, Jago,” Demi said with a tender smile. “Then it’s off to bed. Omi shouldn’t let you stay up so late.”

  Her grandmother stood when Jago toddled over to Demi. The boy planted a wet kiss on Demi’s face and giggled.

  “Maybe,” Omi said, “Mama shouldn’t have been out so late.”

  Demi picked Jago up. A healthy size at four years old, he was almost too big for her to carry up the stairs, but she loved to hold him. A flash of protective worry went through her, but she tried her best to push the feeling aside. She had close to two years before he would be old enough for school. “Mama had to go look for a job,” Demi said in a playful voice to Jago, although she directed her words at her grandmother.

  “I like it best when you stay with me, Mama,” Jago said and yawned.

  “Me too,” she replied with a grin. “Come on. Bed time.”

  He laid his head on her shoulder with a contented sigh and fell asleep before they reached the upstairs bedroom he shared with his Omi. Demi kissed his forehead and tucked the blankets around him, then watched him sleep for a moment. Finally, she tore herself away to face her grandmother’s predictable questioning.

  When Demi went back to the living room, she found her grandmother peering into the street below. “Who is that man?” she asked.

  Demi’s heart filled with dread. She followed the older woman’s gaze to a dark corner. The figure in the shadows barely moved. If she hadn’t known he was there, she might have missed him altogether. “I met him at the coffee shop where I applied for the job. He must have followed me here.”

  “Is he—”

  “No,” Demi interrupted. “He’s an artist.”

  “He may be working for Ulric.”

  Demi shuddered. She hated even the sound of that name. “He was selling his work to the owner. He wasn't there for me.”

  Her grandmother turned sharp eyes on Demi. “He’s here for you now.” Her tone held a warning. “You have to get rid of him.”

  “He’ll go away on his own. He’s only a man.” Demi hoped she spoke the truth.

  “Think of Jago,” her grandmother insisted.

  “I do,” Demi said impatiently. “Every moment of every day.” Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “He’s only a man.”

  ∞

  Munro waited for the queens to gather, keeping back so as not to call too much attention to himself. That was not an easy task, because even after well over a year in the Otherworld, he and his druid comrades still caused a stir wherever they went. At least this time, the queens were too occupied with watching the blue portal to bother about him.

  The queens arrived with their usual entourages, but quickly everyone except the queen herself and one or two others would make their way beyond the courtyard to their kingdom’s Hall. Still, before long, the large courtyard felt crowded, and the keepers had not even surfaced from the chamber below. The queens didn't speak to one another, and most maintained an icy and calm appearance. Occasionally, Munro would catch one giving another a furtive glance. Clearly, something worried them.

  After an hour, Munro wandered to the library entrance and took the downward spiralling stairs two at a time. Several keepers gathered in the back of the large entrance hall, and they glanced up when he entered. Their grim expressions, however, prevented him from approaching. He didn't see Oszlár, the head keeper with whom he worked the most. Of course, any of the keepers would have been happy to lend assistance to one of the druids. When it came to matters of important advice, however, they always referred him to Oszlár. Not wanting to talk to anyone else, Munro left.

  Impatience bit at him. It might take several hours before all the queens arrived. Eilidh would likely have been at the castle at Canton Dreich. Even if she left immediately, the distance would require some time to cross. Faeries didn't use machinery or animals for transportation. Of course, they could run many times faster than a human. They also had more stamina and considered contraptions a human crutch, used to make up for the lesser race’s lack of magical abilities.

  Munro made his way through the crowd of waiting royals, wondering why they didn't wait in their Halls. Perhaps, he considered, they hoped one of the new arrivals would have more information. On a whim, Munro turned and walked over on the same bridges that led away from the courtyard and towards the grand Halls beyond. Beneath the thin bridges, thick fog roiled far below. The Source Stone emanated magic so strong, it created a mist that obscured the view of the gaping void under his feet.

  He approached the open gates to the Druid Hall and looked up. He had a difficult time explaining to Eilidh why he wanted to live here instead of with her in Caledonia. He knew his choice disappointed her, but the decision felt right. Even with the discomfort of not having her near, he belonged here.

  With help volunteered by many faeries from all over the kingdoms, they’d built their Hall in a surprisingly short time. The structure was more of a village than a single building, constructed to house hundreds. Cooks, gardeners, servants, and attendants all served the Druid Hall. Scholars lived in a special wing created for their use. When the druids would give them time, they’d question the humans, trying to scrutinise the unusual magic the men possessed, tracking its changes and development. This study included the bonding process druids could engage in with one faerie during their lifetime.

  The architecture of the Druid Hall was an odd combination of fae design, modern influence, and ancient, moss-covered Scottish castles. Much of the place was still unfinished, and unlike the faeries, the druids did not have claim on any of the human realm, so this was their only domain. At least it was theirs. Except for the small amount they’d begun to grow in a small, rear garden, their food came from tributes from all the kingdoms, and the keepers had arranged for them to be supplied with anything they needed. The various kingdoms each tried to outdo the others with their generosity.

  Although Eilidh had wanted the druids to stay within the influence of Caledonia, Munro was looking further to the future. As much as he wanted to give her anything she might desire, for the druids’ sake, they should be affiliated with as many kingdoms as possible, to spread their web of influence as far as they could. They were building the foundation of a new society, one much bigger than him and Eilidh.

  He worked his way through the gateway and beyond the wide, open garden at the front. He found Rory in the immense room they called their workshop. The ginger-haired druid sat at a rough-hewn table, bending over a carved wooden block and shaping it with his magical flows. He didn't notice Munro at first, but after a few moments, he came out of his trance.

  A wide grin broke out across his face when he saw Munro. “Hey,” he said. “How’re things going at the library?”

  Munro was glad Rory appeared so content and engrossed in his work. He'd been through quite a trauma not too long ago, one that left him wounded and angry for some time. As a result of his injuries, Rory would never be able to bond with another faerie. Munro didn’t want to contemplate what that would be like. His bond with Eilidh shaped so much of what he had become. But Rory's bond had been stolen from him by a young faerie named Flùranach. He had, in essence, become her slave, unable even to disagree with her, having to force himself to pretend to be happy, even about what had been done to him. Flùranach had been young, and she had been through a magical accident that left her unstable. Eventually, Munro had convinced her to release Rory, but not before the damage had been done.

  Although Rory no longer suffered from the forced bond, the ordeal left deep scars. Flùranach had not been seen since. As far as everyone knew, she had fled to the human realm. Munro sometimes wondered where she’d gone. She’d once been like family to him. The idea of her, lost and alone on the streets of some human city, bothered him. Despite what she’d done, he hoped she was safe and well.

  “What's up?” Rory asked.

  Munro opened his mouth to answer when he heard Eilidh's voice behind him. “Quinton,” she said, and Munro
turned to her. “I received your call. I need to return to the courtyard to wait with the others. Will the druids be joining us?”

  Munro turned to her. “What's going on? I know the gates are shifting, but what does that mean?”

  Eilidh glanced over her shoulder, back towards the courtyard in the distance. “Our kingdoms do not intersect.” Worry creased her brow, and her silver-green eyes swam with her concerns.

  Munro frowned, puzzled. He knew each of the faerie kingdoms did not border each other, but only connected at the borderlands and here in the Halls of Mist. “I know that.”

  “Rarely, the gates shift from one queen’s control to another. New kingdoms can be formed. Old kingdoms may die. Any of our kingdoms might be affected.”

  “What might cause such a thing?” Munro asked.

  She shrugged, but her gesture did not disguise her anxiety. “Many things. Sometimes, but not always, the gates shift when a queen dies.”

  “You’ve had no word of a queen dying, have you?”

  She shook her head. “No, but if this is the case, the event would be recent. This is one of the reasons we attend so eagerly. That and to determine if our own kingdom is at risk.”

  Rory interjected, “Wouldn't a dead queen’s heir take the throne?”

  Eilidh nodded. “Usually. Even when we deposed Cadhla, the gates accepted the will of the conclave and the Caledonian people and did not shift to another, but passed into my control. The artefact is a source of ancient magic none of us understands. In truth, I'm surprised the Stone accepted me.” She set her mouth into a grim line. “It may even now reject me, if my kingdom has grown too weak to thrive.”

  “Are you saying the Source Stone chooses faerie queens?”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Griogair is waiting for me at the courtyard. By tradition, only the keepers and royal families are present when the Stone reveals its new pattern, but no one would deny your right to attend.” Her voice had an almost imperceptible quaver. Through their bond, Munro sensed her nervousness.