“Just so. He’s got hold of the community, and he’ll not let go of that power. This means we must work within his rules.”
Clíodhna’s blood grew chilled. This might get messy.
They worked out the details of a plan to approach each villager, starting with those who still maintained a close relationship with the magic of the land. Without aggressive tactics, they’d emphasize the benefits of keeping the Fae happy as integral to the health of the land, the kine, and their children.
Clíodhna pursed her lips. “But what about the Christian ideas that the Fae are something from their devil?”
“We’ll just have to convince them the Christians are mistaken.”
“The monks have drawn pictures, though! Little Fae creatures stabbing people and stealing their souls, all with a laughing horned creature looking on.”
He chuckled. “They can draw all the pictures they want. The truth must win out.”
A voice came from behind. “Indeed, it must.”
They both whirled to see Pátraic had returned, this time with even more monks. Clíodhna counted ten, including several she recognized, like Brothers Fachtna and Cronan. She scowled in the latter’s direction, and he gave the briefest of shrugs with his lips pressed together in grim apology. Fachtna grinned in horrific delight.
Clíodhna stood and stepped in front of the roundhouse door. Was Etromma still inside? Donn had been with the cows earlier, but she seemed to remember him returning. Aileran slept in his bed after Clíodhna fed him. With a glance to Adhna, she braced herself on the doorframe.
Adhna spoke to her under his breath. “Get the children.” Then he turned to the Abbot. “I understand you are a leader in this community. Pátraic, is it?”
The Abbot waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know who you are, but you are not of this village, so I need not answer to you.”
Clíodhna grabbed Aileran and several blankets. She shook Etromma from her nap. “Donn, gather those bags of food, the flint, the iron pot and tools. Etromma, grab the clothing and blanket bundles we made. We must leave, quietly. Now.”
The children scrambled to their tasks as Adhna and Pátraic exchanged barbed words outside. She paid little attention to what they said, simply grateful they’d packed things in preparation of this possibility. The Abbot’s tone conveyed all she needed to know. He had come for her children, and she must not allow it.
She emerged from the doorway with caution. Donn stood behind her, clutching a blanket wrapped around various household tools, a wheel of cheese, three loaves of bread, and some apples. Etromma had a cloth bundle over her shoulder.
Pátraic tensed as she came out and snapped his fingers. His monks fanned out to block off her escape, almost surrounding the roundhouse.
Adhna glanced at Clíodhna, and then at the sky. Clíodhna understood.
The sky had been bright and clear, but now the dark clouds swirled overhead, turning into a whirlwind. The point of a miniature tornado touched the ground to the right, on the path leading away from the village. This same path led up to the hills, where the hidden stone circle stood.
The monks in that spot scattered. Ominous clouds gathered and the boom of thunder echoed across the valley. She looked over her shoulder at her two eldest children. As one, they strode to the open space, straight to the retreating, twisting windstorm. It led the way up the path.
Pátraic screamed to his monks. “Catch them!”
Adhna took the rear position, his hands held high, as Clíodhna pulled her children down the path. A monk tried to grab at them but found himself unable to move until they passed. Another, mumbling a prayer under his breath, pushed through almost to the point of touching Clíodhna. She clung to Aileran, keeping the baby from the intruder and passed him.
Brother Cronan stood next to the path, his shoulders relaxed. He gave them a tiny nod as they passed, his hands out in a half-hearted attempt to grab her arm. She flashed him a grateful smile for his obvious reluctance to capture them. Donn whispered thanks to the monk who had been his mentor for the last several moons.
Pátraic rushed the small column of escapees and, his God’s name on his lips, he shoved his way through the stickiness of Adhna’s barrier. He laid his hands upon Etromma’s shoulders, but she spun and kicked him squarely between the legs. He collapsed with a cry of pain, and Clíodhna grinned, shouting, “Well done, daughter!”
They wended their way up the sacred hill, past the guardian stones, and to the circle itself. Clíodhna hesitated. She didn’t want to bring her family to Faerie, but she must find a safe place. She turned to Adhna, a protest leaping to her lips.
He stalled her words with a raised finger. “You needn’t enter the circle. There’s a large, dry cave that will suit. I will make a place for you. It might take a while, but I will do what I can.”
* * *
The violent thunderstorm raged outside. Clíodhna could no longer control its fury, but the storm served an excellent purpose even now. The pouring rain and gale made searching more difficult for the monks and obscured any record of Clíodhna’s passage through the forest. She smiled into the darkness.
Adhna must have anticipated some of their need, as baskets of food and supplies lay hidden in the back of the cave. Several blankets, a bronze pot, wooden bowls, and utensils filled one basket. A second one held turnips, onions, garlic, and herbs. Dried fish, a bag of rowan berries, a jar of honey, and some dark oat flatbread filled a third. A small container, when opened, revealed a supply of precious salt.
After unloading their own supplies, she surveyed the prospects of
