Fingin cast about with his hands, searching for Bran. “Bran! Bran, where are you? Grandmother? Are you there?”
He found something and gripped tight. The fur felt like Bran’s, and he tried to pull him away. The dog didn’t move and seemed to be unconscious. With a grunt, he knelt and lifted the dog to carry him out.
He staggered under the weight of the enormous hound. Fingin stumbled out of the still-smoldering smoke, step by deliberate step. Once he fought clear, he took a deep lungful of clear air. He placed the dog on the ground and caught his breath again.
Tomnat knelt by the dog, Adhna by her side. Deep streaks of red matted the gray fur. With frantic fingers, Fingin searched for some sign the dog still breathed but found nothing. One shallow, ragged breath moved the dog’s flank. Fingin fumbled at his léine, yanking at the cloth that held Brigit’s charm, but it remained around the Faerie Queen’s neck.
A hand on his shoulder made him glance up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. His grandmother, scruffy and torn, stood behind him, Brigit’s charm still glowing around her neck. Soot covered half her face, and her long, black hair had burned off in patches. Bodach’s attacks had ripped and burnt her elegant gown to tatters, exposing sections of reddened skin. If he’d ever doubted her human heritage, he didn’t now.
She took the charm off and handed it to Fingin with solemn dignity. “Have a care with this, Fingin. It might have killed me more easily than healed me. I’m thankful we’re related.”
Confused, he pressed the charm into the dog’s fur, urging the magic to work faster than ever.
With a voice ragged with tears and smoke, he cried out. “Please, Brigit, listen to my prayer. Bran has been a loyal friend and a valuable help. Don’t let him die, please!”
Grimnaugh came running, panting and sweating. They glanced at the carnage the battle had left, but Bodach had escaped.
Adhna knelt before his grandmother. “My Queen, how can we help?”
She took a deep breath and placed a hand upon his head with tender care. Her touch almost became a loving caress, as lovers might exchange. Then her icy dignity returned, and she straightened.
Grimnaugh clenched his fists, his expression thunderous. “May I have permission to destroy Bodach, my Queen? I would derive considerable pleasure from such a boon.”
Her eyes sparked with fury. “Nay, neither of you may touch him. He is mine to punish. I want him to remain alive, a long life to do his penance for his crimes.”
The anger died, and she turned to Adhna and Grimnaugh. “However, I do have a favor to ask each of you. Adhna, I need you to travel to the mortal realm and watch out for Fingin and Tomnat. Ensure that Bodach doesn’t harass either of them, nor the children.”
Fingin spoke up, his hands still pressing the healing charm into Bran’s flank. “Children?”
“Shush, Fingin. Yes, Tomnat is carrying another child. Now, Grimnaugh, you have another task.” She knelt by Bran and put her hands on the dog’s head. Bran twitched and let out a pitiful whimper. Fingin’s heart leapt in his chest. Had the healing charm worked?
“Brigit’s charm’s depleted and must return to the mortal world to recover its strength, Fingin. Bran will not survive such a journey. However, he may yet live, with constant care. Grimnaugh, will you care for the hound? If he returns to his own world, he will perish.”
Fingin cried and cradled the dog’s head in his lap as Tomnat pulled his arm, eager to escape. He didn’t tear his gaze off Bran’s still-shut eyes. “I won’t forget you, Bran! I promise!”
The Faerie Queen pushed him toward the steps. Tomnat and Adhna led him down into the water. Not until the surface engulfed his head did Fingin stop watching Bran. Then he needed all his attention to keep breathing through the passage to the human world.
* * *
Adhna led them out of the sacred well and into a dense forest, a different place from where he’d entered Faerie.
“What about Sean? He’ll be waiting f-f-for me at the other well.”
The Fae shook his head. “The loyal donkey has long since moved on, Fingin. It’s been longer than you know.”
His throat clenched. He’d lost both his friends. He hoped Sean had found a friendly farm and a happy life. Fingin glanced at Tomnat, holding his son, and realized he wasn’t alone. He had a family now, a family he must care for and support.
Adhna led them across the countryside, down a hill, and to a river. They followed the river until a sheltered hilltop, surrounded by pine trees, came into sight.
Fingin stopped to stare at the trees. “We’re going th-there?”
The Fae nodded. “The family who lived there left some time ago. It’s large enough for a family.”
The roundhouse sat next to a gentle bend in the river with a lovely view of the valley beyond. Autumn colors painted the oak trees around them. Weary from their journey, both Tomnat and Fingin collapsed on the ground, their backs against the outer wall.
Adhna, despite appearing to be older than either of them, remained spry and energized. He’d led them to this place, a larger roundhouse than even the one Fingin had grown up in. A large pen stood next to the roundhouse, large enough for several cows and a pig or two. An herb garden and a larger plot for other crops completed the property.
Now he had a family to support. They wouldn’t survive by fish alone. Adhna had assured him he knew a place they’d thrive in. “I’ll find you some livestock and some supplies. You take care of yourself, your wife, and your son. I’ll return in a few days.”
He
