The guardian stones loomed black and slick wet, emerging from the mists like silent sentries. When the circle came into view, the fog clung the tops of the stones, shrouding them in mystery. The day turned dim with her summoned storm.
Now thoroughly soaked, she sat in the center of the circle and gave in to her sobs. She heaved with misery, cradling Aileran and shielding him from the cold rain. He fussed and whimpered but didn’t join her cries. He nuzzled against her chest, searching for milk but for a while, she didn’t respond even to this visceral need of her baby.
I murdered my husband. No matter it had been in defense of myself and Aileran, I killed him. In addition, I drove off Etromma and Donn to their own fates, without a word of goodbye, a blessing, or a kiss. I’m a horrible mother. Aileran would be better off anywhere but in my arms, shivering and hungry on a Faerie hill.
The rain fell harder now, and the ground began to rumble.
This last pulled her from her misery. No longer as distracted with her grief, she gave in to Aileran’s quest and pulled out a breast for him to feed upon. The earth’s rumbling continued, like a herd of horses galloped past. No outside noise pierced the sound of the rain and her own hiccups.
She must call Adhna. He said he might not come right away. What if she had to wait days? She’d grabbed no supplies, no provisions for a long wait. While Aileran had milk, she had no bread, cheese, or meat. Her hunting talent had never been strong and she’d brought no weapons. She held only her brooch, her magic, and her determination.
After taking the damp air deep into her lungs, Clíodhna stood, still cradling Aileran close. Raising her face to the sky, she called to Adhna, begging him to come to her and take her to safety, to Faerie. The power of the call resonated through her blood, but no answer came.
With a sigh, she sat back down. Now she’d have to wait. With an annoyed glance at the sky, she shoved the clouds away. She’d finished with the storm, and no longer wanted to be cold and wet. If only she had the power to dry herself as quickly as the air.
The rumble returned, stronger. Her legs tingled where they touched the earth. She rose and put her back to the largest standing stone, wishing she had a physical weapon. As Aileran fussed, she also wished she had found somewhere safe for him, somewhere other than on this mystical Faerie hill with only an aging woman for protection.
A third rumble came. This time, hoofbeats accompanied the rumbling; many hoofbeats, not just one horse. Rustling in the trees to the north made her turn to meet this new threat.
The first figure to burst forth from the tree line appeared resplendent upon a magnificent black horse. He had bedecked his bark-skinned body with ivy and vines, which trailed after him like pennants in the wind. Clíodhna recognized Bodach, and unconsciously cowered against her standing stone.
Behind the Fae Lord trailed at least ten lesser Fae, each one carrying a bronze, leaf-shaped sword, held out and ready for battle. They circled the stones with practiced precision, their swords pointed inward at her. Bodach held back as they took their positions. Once they halted, stone still in their posture, he dismounted his steed and strode toward her.
“So it seems you need some help, my lovely. I can taste your desperation, and it’s delectable.” He took in a deep sniff, as if savoring the aroma of roasting meat. After letting his breath out with a satisfied sigh, he smiled at her.
Bodach didn’t have a cheerful smile, or even one of glee. His smile assured her he knew full well the terror he inspired within her heart, and he relished that knowledge.
Still standing with her back pressed against the stone, she drew upon the air, calling her power to her defense.
“None of that! Not this time!” He snapped his fingers and his entourage raised their sword tips. Her swirling clouds above had formed into a tight circle, ready to attack again, but the lesser Fae raised a circle of their own, one of wind. This wind twisted up and dissipated her clouds with a snap of energy.
The backlash slammed against her, pushing all air from her lungs. She gasped for breath as Aileran croaked out a cry of protest. Adhna, where are you?
Rocked by the counter-magic, she tried again. This time, she pulled the tendrils of earth energy into her body, disappointed she had no raging river of power to wrestle under control as in her dream.
The blue-white light traveled up her legs and body and shot out of her arm. She didn’t direct it at Bodach, though, but at the sword hand of one of his guards. As the magic knocked the sword out of his grip and sent it twirling toward the ground, he let out a cry of surprise. Bodach reacted with a shout of his own, one of rage. She disarmed three more guards before he reacted with an attack.
The Fae disdained magical attack and reached for her arm, his bark skin digging into her own flesh. Clíodhna screamed but still threw power at each guard. Five disarmed now, and the others milled around, wondering what to do. The first had dismounted and bent to retrieve his bronze sword, but it sparked as he touched it. He jumped back, cautious at the remaining energy held by the metal.
Pain shot through her arm as Bodach bent it behind her. She screeched in frustration and pain. Clíodhna couldn’t physically attack him, not with Aileran now wailing in her other arm.
She directed her next blast at the Fae Lord, but he just cackled at her attempt.
