Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 Page 4

  Fray. What a wonderfully descriptive word.

  “Now, this energy isn’t limitless in fact, but for your purposes, and the purposes of any human, it is. Only a god or goddess could drain even a portion of this energy from the land. A Faerie Queen has less power but could still damage the land if she so chooses. I can’t think of a reason they might do so, unless they went quite mad, but it’s a possibility.”

  Clíodhna shivered. Faerie Queens featured in many of Oisinne’s tales, and rarely did any human come out the better for encountering them. A traveler might gain some great ability—such as the gift of song or power over the waves—but they lost something precious. A child, their voice, a leg, their sanity… or their life. She had no wish to make such a gamble.

  “When you pull the power up through the land, how do you do that?”

  She considered her answer for a few moments. “I see it, like a blue-white light, threading up through my contact with the ground. It’s like delicate tendrils from a growing vine. It caresses my bones and my muscles, spreading warmth and energy. But it feels… odd. Like I’m pushing something through a barrier that resists my efforts.”

  “Excellent description! The barrier is because it’s earth magic. You’re more tuned to air magic, I think. And then you just stop?”

  “My mother taught me, but she never said I should do anything with it. She said to always remember to honor the dawn and the dusk with my rituals. Earth and air magic?”

  “As well she should. They are worthy of honor, as is the land. Many humans, Fae, and gods cultivate that power to keep the land healthy, as the land’s health reflects our own. As the land dies, so do we. That is true of any creature. I want to continue to teach you earth magic. We shall move to air magic once you have a solid grounding in the earth.”

  The words seemed right to her. Truer than the words of the monk yesterday. This maxim Clíodhna understood within her being.

  “Now, let’s do some exercises. I shall instruct you on how to both pull the power into you, which you have already done, and control it once you have done so, which you have not done. First, I want you to draw power, but not as much as you can. Just a little. A small tendril, as you described, up your spine.”

  Clíodhna closed her eyes and imagined that thin, blue-white line branching up her back, through each of her bones until it reached the base of her skull.

  “Good, good. Now, keep it there. Don’t let it dissipate. Don’t let it grow. Don’t let it meld through your body. Just hold it in place.”

  It quivered within her, aching to spread, to move, to disperse, but she clenched her jaw and it remained in place. After several moments, she shook with the effort, but refused to let the power win.

  “Excellent! Now, release it, a small portion at a time.”

  Bit by bit, Clíodhna let the power escape, back into the earth she sat upon. It tingled as it disappeared, almost like a wave goodbye. When she’d released all the power, she felt as if she’d run three leagues. Sweat dripped from her face, and her breathing came hard.

  “I think that’s enough for a first lesson. Would you like to learn more tomorrow?”

  Despite her exhaustion, she grinned. She needed to learn this, more than anything in the world. This one lesson had left her both energized and tired at the same time but craving more.

  “Then we must formalize our arrangement. Are you willing now to make a pact with me?” She stood to face him and he took both her hands. “I, Adhna of the Court of Queen Áine, do take Clíodhna to be my student, to teach her to wield her power with strength, wisdom, and heart. In return, Clíodhna, do you agree to abide by my teaching until our lessons are complete?”

  Clíodhna hesitated. “How long will that take? What if I can’t make it here because of my children? I don’t want them to suffer for my absence.”

  “It will take as long as it takes. If you decide you need to halt the progress to care for your family, such a delay is acceptable. However, completing the lessons is important. Half-trained is all dangerous.”

  After Oisinne had left, she’d been lonely and bereft of purpose, even with her family to raise. This offer may just be what her soul craved, something to strive for, and something to occupy her active mind. With a nervous swallow, she gave him a weak smile. “Then I do so vow.”

  A shimmer spread out from them in a wide circle, somehow both changing the land and leaving it the same. She shivered, wondering if she had just made a horrible mistake.

  Chapter Two

  That afternoon, when she went to retrieve her children, she basked in the remnants of power that tickled her muscles. They left little fluttering sparks every time she moved, almost like the intense pleasure lovemaking invoked.

  Odhrán greeted her at the garden entrance. “You look radiant, Clíodhna. That rest must have been recuperative.”

  “I’m much better, thank you. I haven’t been able to rest much since I birthed Aileran.”

  “Well, he’s been a positive delight. Etromma chaffed at first, but now she’s become fascinated with the herb breads. Donn has learned well and may just have a knack for carving wood, though he likes the more decorative aspect rather than the constructive parts. Still, a good woodworking skill is valuable. Today has turned out well.”

  Grateful for the positive news, Clíodhna grinned. “Does that mean I can bring them again some time?”

  “How about tomorrow? A regular course would be most beneficial to their learning. Unless you need them at home for farm work?”

  Perhaps her children wouldn’t thank her for this decision, but it would be to their benefit as well as her own. “They can do the farm work in the mornings and evenings. They’re old enough to do both, I think.”

  “I agree. Our order believes that hard work can help benefit a soul, and that idle hands breed mischief.”

  Clíodhna thought back to her own childhood. She’d bred plenty of mischief despite all the work she did, but perhaps she had a special talent for it. The memory made her smile.

  Odhrán let out a deep sigh. “Clíodhna, your smile brightens my day. Your children aren’t yet finished with today’s lesson. Will you sit and chat with me while we wait?”

  “I would be happy to join you.”

  The simple wooden bench faced the ornamental portion of the garden. A few crocuses had poked up through the remains of snow, and a daffodil bulb showed its head. Soon, the island would be in the full throes of spring, thrumming with life and growth.

  Spring is when Clíodhna became most alive herself. Her body marched with the seasons, and with her husband gone, she must find someone else to enjoy the fertile time with. Adhna might be a candidate, but should she be so intimate with a fae? A teacher and a student must also be prudent with their relationships. Odhrán, on the other hand, might be a possibility. So far, his conversation kept her interest. He didn’t seem to mind her company, and, despite the odd tonsure, was pleasant to look upon.

  Their thighs touched as they sat on the bench. After a few minutes, his skin warmth radiated through several layers of cloth, despite the chilly wind which gusted through the garden.

  Odhrán turned his head to regard her. “So, have you lived in this village all your life? Or have you moved here from elsewhere?”

  “I moved here when I married. My husband is… was from here. His family has lived in this area for several generations. I grew up near the seashore.”

  “Do you miss it? I lived near the sea not far from Rome. I used to love watching the waves come in during a storm.”

  Clíodhna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, putting her hands on her knees. “Oh, yes. Watching a storm over the ocean is my favorite thing. The sharp smell of lightning, the churning of the whitecaps, the violence of the wind. Frightening but fascinating. I never got enough of it, even when my mother made me come in out of the rain.”

  “I can see you loved it. Your face lit up when you spoke.”

  She opened her eyes to discover he’d leaned forwar
d and met her gaze. Startled, she asked the first thing which came into her head. “What was your home like in Rome? You said it was near the sea?”

  The edge of his mouth quirked up. “On a cliff near the mouth of a river. The weather is much milder than here in the summer, let me tell you. Still, some lovely storms would come across the water during the dark season. I thrilled at their power.”

  Clíodhna grinned. “I lived near the ocean as well, and I played in the surf every evening as the sun colored the waves red. Dolphins would come and play with me in the water, over-enthusiastic like dogs. Does your god have power over the ocean, like Manannán mac Lir does?”

  “He has power over all the world, ocean and land and heavens above.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “All of that? However does he manage?”

  “He is omnipotent in all things. He can watch the fall of every sparrow and yet create powerful earthquakes.”

  Thinking back to her lesson with Adhna, Clíodhna said, “Such power in the hands of one being is dangerous.”

  Odhrán waggled a finger at her. “God is incorruptible. He’s not like the Greek or Roman old gods, with their petty jealousy and infidelities.”

  “But you said he had a son of a human woman. Is that not an infidelity?”

  “God has no wife in heaven. He rules alone. Is it not the same in your beliefs? I’ve tried to find out more of the local religion, but your priests won’t talk to me.”

  “The Druí guard their knowledge unless you are a student. That sounds so utterly lonely.” They fell silent for a few moments. “Danú is the mother, but she has no consort. She has many children, however. Her children are our gods, such as The Dagda, The Morrigú, and Brighid. There are many others, but those are the main ones. Each one rules over different aspects of life. Brighid, for instance, is the goddess of the hearth, of creativity, and of healing. She is also sacred to blacksmiths and brings in the spring season. This is her time, the time when the land wakes from winter slumber and bursts forth into teeming life.”

  “That’s a delightful image. God has no such helpmate.”

  She bit her lip. “How can a god rule without a goddess? There is no life without fertility.”

  “He relies upon his children to be fertile.”

  Clíodhna still had her hands on her knees. Odhrán placed his hand over the closest one. His skin felt warm and dry against hers.

  “Odhrán! Odhrán, are you out here?”

  Startled apart, Clíodhna slowed her breathing. A thin, young monk came around the corner, Aileran in his arms. “This wee one is fussing strong. Is this his mother? I think he’s hungry.”

  She held her hands out for her baby, suddenly needing to hold him. “Yes, I’ll take him. Thank you so much. Brother Manchan? Is that your name?”

  The man nodded, his spare frame full of eager energy. “Yes, indeed! He slept most of the day, but when he woke, he simply wouldn’t stop fussing, so I came in search of you. I did feed him a bit of cow’s milk, but I think he prefers yours. I must get back to my other charges.” He left with a jaunty wave.

  Odhrán cleared his throat. “I’ll go fetch your other children. They should be finished now. Shall I see you tomorrow?”

  Clíodhna gave him a nod, unsure if she’d embarrassed him or not. They’d done nothing to be embarrassed about. Her husband had left, and he didn’t seem to be attached. Perhaps she misread the situation. Regardless, she’d ask him tomorrow. That would be better than guessing wrong.

  She rocked Aileran and hummed a nonsense song to him, his soft skin warm against her cheek. When Etromma and Donn joined her, Odhrán didn’t reappear.

  “How did you like the lessons? Do you want to return tomorrow?”

  Etromma shrugged. “It was interesting. I really liked picking out the herbs and preparing them, but kneading the dough hurt my hands. Brother Éanna is good about explaining things, but he does it all in one long sentence.”

  Hiding a chuckle, she turned to Donn. “What about your day?”

  “I loved it! I can’t wait to go back tomorrow. Brother Cronan had me help him build a bench but I got fascinated by the pattern in the wood grain. When he noticed that, he set me to polishing a finished piece, and I asked him if I could carve a decoration in it and he didn’t want to do that, but he gave me a small burl to work with but I’m only halfway done.”

  Etromma gave her brother a sidelong glance. “Exactly like that.”

  Clíodhna lost the battle to suppress her laugh. After her joy of the morning, her intense lesson with Adhna and her emotional chat with Odhrán, the laughter grew far more powerful than her limited will to hold it back.

  Both children smiled and then joined her. Hilarity echoed down the forest path as they approached their home.

  * * *

  The next morning, when Clíodhna dropped the children off at the monk’s enclave, Odhrán came out to meet them, grinning from ear to ear. When Etromma and Donn went off to their respective teachers, and she’d ensconced Aileran in the nursery, Odhrán asked her to sit on the garden bench with him. She had some time before meeting with Adhna, so she agreed.

  “I wanted to speak with you about my actions yesterday, Clíodhna. I should not have been so forward to a married woman, and I want to apologize.”

  Stunned, she blinked several times. “Apologize? But there’s nothing to apologize for. My husband is long gone.”

  Odhrán’s face turned several shades of red, and he glanced down, fiddling with his fingers. “Within the rules of my church, you are still vowed to him. Therefore, I am not free to make advances toward you. It is counted a grievous sin.”

  She laughed. “Only for you, Odhrán. I enjoyed the attention. In fact,” she put her hand on his, halting his fiddling, “I enjoy your company very much. Do you not find me attractive?”

  His blush deepened further, and he visibly swallowed. “Thank you. You are delightfully intelligent and alluring, and I quite enjoy your company. That, however, is not the issue.” He took a deep breath. “While I’m not yet vowed to the church, I am still permitted to… have relationships with women. However, the Church frowns on such relationships outside marriage. When I take my vows in a few moons, I must renounce them.”

  “What? What sort of idiocy is that? Why would they cut you off from half of all people?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Not completely, no, or at least, not for most monks. We can interact with both men and women within certain circumstances. Some of us seek a hermitage and live away from all people, but most of us become a part of the community we live in. No, the stricture is particularly on… carnal relations with women.”

  Clíodhna cocked her head. “So are they all expected to take male lovers? Some men prefer that, but many don’t.”

  He coughed at her comment. She helpfully patted his back, but he waved off her help. “No, no carnal relations at all.”

  “But… but how do you honor the fertility of your land? It’s insulting to abstain.”

  He bowed his head, drawing his hand from hers, and resumed playing with his fingers. “This is becoming a most distressing conversation, Clíodhna. I’m so sorry I’m having trouble explaining it. We are meant to hold ourselves pure, away from the temptations of the flesh.”

  “‘Temptations of the flesh?’ You make it sound so… sordid.”

  He clasped his hands over his stomach. “In the eyes of our Lord, it is… unless it is within the sanctified relationship of marriage.”

  “I don’t understand your god. I don’t think I want to, not with that bizarre belief.”

  “Nevertheless, it is my belief. I must abide by it and be true to my heart.”

  “Does this mean we cannot have chats? Must you shun my company?”

  His eyes grew wide. “Absolutely not! First, I am not yet vowed. Second, I am charged to work within this community, and you are part of this community. Third,” he cleared his throat, “third, I quite enjoy our conversations. You make me consider things I’d never ex
amined before. I enjoy this exercise. Perhaps we can learn more about each other’s beliefs through such conversations.”

  Clíodhna took a deep breath. “If that is all we can be, then I shall treasure the friendship and chat.”

  Odhrán took her hand again, his skin warm against hers. “Thank you for your understanding. I prayed last night that my weakness in touching hadn’t been a horrible mistake. Your own wisdom and generosity is a balm to my spirit and conscience.”

  Her desire rose again, but she must honor his request. “May we talk a little each morning when I bring the children? I would very much like that.”

  Odhrán gave her a dimpled grin. “As would I. Some mornings, I might have other duties, but when I can, I shall meet you at the abbey entrance.”

  “Abbey?”

  “Our name for our community. The leader is an Abbot, though we temporarily have none. One has been sent from Rome, though, and should be here in a few moons.”

  Clíodhna rose, casting an eye to the sky to estimate the time of day. “I should leave you to your duties, then. Thank you, Odhrán, for explaining this to me.”

  “Safe travel home, Clíodhna.”

  Her journey to her house was full of both frustration and chagrin. She’d been so sure he’d make a delightful lover. This new religion seemed harsh, but some of the druidic rules might be just as severe, if not more so. At least she could still enjoy discussions with him.

  Adhna waited for her at the viewing rock. He raised his eyebrows as she entered the clearing. “Should I have come later?”

  “I apologize, Adhna. I got entangled in a fascinating conversation while dropping off the children. Have you met any from this new religion?”

  His eyes clouded with anger. “I have not, and don’t intend to. They label my kind to be some daemon, inherently evil and only good for banishing.”

  Clíodhna cocked her head. “They do?”

  “Most assuredly. They splattered another of our kind with some water and told them to flee before the power of their god. The Fae just laughed at them, but then he held up a piece of cold iron in the shape of a cross. The Fae departed, but left some surprises for the priest.”