Born of Oak and Silver (The Caradoc Chronicles) (18 page)

The fire and wind that surrounded the Nuc
kelavee not only singed his flesh, but also caused the barrier that had held the rain back from the Nuckelavee to disappear. In one massive leap, the creature jumped from the pillar. The wind and fire had no way to track such an immense change of place, so that they simply ceased to be. However, as the rain fell upon the beast, he shrieked in pain. The moisture was acid upon his tissues. Every drop caused the already burned flesh to sizzle and melt away. The creature charged into the trees, seeking shelter from the rain.

With a flick of my hand, I caused
the earth to rise in a wall that would prevent the Nuckelavee from escaping. He thrashed and spun, fighting a foe that it could not possibly defeat, as the rain fell unabashed by its challenger. Sensing the opportunity to gain the advantage, I caused the earth to open in a massive pit beneath the Nuckelavee’s feet. He fell helplessly, flesh melting away beneath the anathema of raindrops. Undaunted, I called water, both from the ground and from the sky.

Groundwater sprang from the ground, filling the
cavity with fresh, flowing water. Smoke billowed from its mouth as the Nuckelavee’s skin began to melt from his bones upon contact with the water that continued to rise around it. The rain increased in intensity, falling so rapidly that it was nearly impossible to see as it cascaded down my face. The Nuckelavee’s guttural screams of pain chilled me to the core as I blindly moved to find higher ground.

In a matter of mome
nts the hole was filled. A deformed, disintegrating skeleton swirled around its floor. I moved forward toward the abyss, willing the water to cease and move away. Again, it did so immediately. The spring that only seconds before had served as a spout for the water now served as a drain. The rain stopped falling, leaving the sky dark and cloudy as it waited for its cue to again begin to weep.

By the time I had walked to the edge of the Nuckelavee’s do
om, I was met with an empty chasm save for the last remains of the Nuckelavee stuck to the muddy floor. As soon as I’d thought it, fire appeared on the skeleton of the beast, licking its bones with an intense affection. It retained none of the Fae resilience, and quickly surrendered its remaining elements to the grave. When not even its ashes remained, I stepped away from the pit’s edge and watched as the earth reinterred all that had ever rested in its cool and dark embrace.

I looked across the clearing to find Bram
holding Ayda protectively in his arms. From the look on his face, I could see that somehow, despite it all, she was still alive.

Still feeling strong, I
trudged to where the bodies of the Macardles had been so gently placed. I could not understand why a creature such as a Nuckelavee would have paid them such kind regard. The earth was still lush and green under them, despite a slight gray ash that had fallen.

Again
I invoked the Earth, and watched on sadly as it tenderly buried the family together within its depths. When there was no evidence of their final resting place, the ground again looking as though it were simply a grass-covered meadow dusted with ash, I turned away. I did not wish to leave any more of myself with them than what I had already allowed to be buried along with them. I walked purposefully to where Bram and Ayda were waiting.

Ayda
looked terrible. Her face was a swollen mess of bruises and scrapes, as was the blotchy skin I could see around her shredded dress. I held my breath when I had to verify from Bram that she was truly alive.

“Just barely,” came his
quiet response. He cradled his favorite grandchild to his chest, and with his eyes closed, gently rocked her while muttering the spell for healing.

I watched them silently. I was edgy, my senses still heightened from
the fight. The slightest patter of rain on the leaves above, or a rustle through the grass, had me whirling to face a new danger.

After a time, it was I who told
Bram that we should move away from here, lest any other Fae come to check on their brother, who was now dead as far as I could tell. He readily agreed to the suggestion. Leaving the two of them briefly beside the trees, I walked to the earth that had been touched by the infection of the Nuckelavee and did the best I could to repair the damage done to her fertile soil.

I then returned and escorted
Bram and Ayda to the dock. Bram carried his granddaughter, refusing all of my repeated offers to help. A small boat was still tied to the pier, waiting to be taken to sea. Quickly, I untied the dingy, and again invoked the wind to carry us away from this place.

We tied up in
Dublin. It was now midafternoon, and the streets, wharf, and city were in full business swing. Bram had removed his coat to cover Ayda as he carried her directly to a coach that was waiting for hire. We went to The Rusted Wardrobe—the very same inn we had visited upon first arriving in Dublin eight years earlier.

When we arrived
, Bram went straight inside, pausing only to tell me to call for a doctor. I retained the carriage and went straightway to the closest doctor’s home. At first inspection of myself, the doctor seemed disinclined to offer his services to one as bedraggled as I. However, upon producing my purse full of golden coins, and receiving a thorough cursing, he was more than willing to cut his afternoon tea short in order to come to our aid.

I found Bram in the same room we had occupied before, though the tubs had been rem
oved and in their place now laid an opulent bed, in the midst of which was Ayda. She wore a clean shift under the several down blankets that covered her.

At the age of twenty
she was in the full blossom of her womanhood, though I had never seen her as more than the pesky, twelve-year old sibling of the woman that I loved. Obviously, at present, Ayda was not a true representation of herself. Her dark, curly hair was a matted and lifeless heap as it clung to her damp face and shoulders. Her skin was pallid, her lips colorless, and her chest rose and fell with labored, silent breaths. Her entire body was a mangled mess of swollen and ugly bruises, which were only augmented by painful-looking cuts with raw, slightly greenish-tinted edges. I was sure those could have only come at the hand of the Nuckelavee’s ugly, taloned fingers.

As
I looked at her and her broken body, she who was the last of her bloodline, I vowed that I would always do everything I could to protect and care for her. I owed her father, mother, and siblings as much—not to mention her grandfather.

The doctor took a single look at Ayda and made an involuntarily audible gasp. He was unprepared for her battered state despite my efforts to thoroughly describe her condition
to him as we made our way to the inn. The middle-aged Irishman looked at me quickly, his eyes wide enough to see much of the whites of his eyes. I noticed his hesitation, and the way he seemed to have already dismissed his own capacity to help her.

I would have none of it. I
gave him a look of menace that had him scurrying off immediately to attend to what he’d been procured to do. After looking over Ayda’s many injuries, the doctor shook his head silently and began studiously digging in his medical bag for bought time.

I stood by the door, unsure
as to whether I should remain in the room or situate myself elsewhere. The doctor was still shuffling through his possessions and muttering inarticulately when Bram strode across the small room’s wooden floor to where I stood leaning against the door.

“Daine,” Bram said with a voice so low the doctor would not be able to hear it, “you ar
e free to go. You exhausted much today. I will stay and look over the doctor and Ayda. As you might have already guessed, this is all for the sake of appearances. When you return, please bring with you some cloves and fennel. We will then begin the incantation to start Ayda’s healing.” He then left me and hastened to Ayda’s bedside.

Being clearly dismissed, I left the room and quietly shut the door behind me. As an added precaution, I hastily laid protective runes about the room’s doorway and hallway to provide an added measure of protection while I was away. I then left the inn to find what Bram had requested, something substantial to feed myself, and then a
room in a bathhouse in which I could clean off the remaining ash and mud before returning to Bram and Ayda.

None of us needed any further reminders
.

The
memory of the ruined Macardle home, family, and most especially Brigid, was seared into my mind. It weighed heavily upon my heart and, I was sure, would eventually crush me. How merciful Bram had been in giving me a moment to openly mourn in privacy, even if he himself was not aware of his deeply sympathetic gesture.

Chapter Twelve

We remained in
Dublin for a little over a month. During this time we heard nothing of alarm from the Druids at Drumcliff. Bram was entirely occupied with tending to Ayda, and this left me with nothing more to occupy myself with than my thoughts.

In those days, my thoughts drifted frequently to the deaths of the Macardle family. I was sure that Maurelle had most assuredly sent the Nuckelavee. After all, she had blatantly warned
Bram to keep his family close—a warning that he had failed to heed.

I
had noticed my first Druidic mark shortly after I left Bram and Ayda in the inn on that first day. It was a black, swirling line, punctuated by traces of red, which I’d noticed after using a mirror to inspect a sharp burning on my left shoulder blade. Druidic marks did not include red, and so I did not mention mine to anyone –despite feeling a sense of pride that I had managed to earn one.

After our initial shock and worry over Ayda, w
e found that most of her injuries were superficial. However, we took every precaution to ensure her safety. Our ministrations paid off, and it was not long before Ayda began to improve. At one month to the day of her rescue, Bram and I knew that it was time to finally make our way to Strasbourg. And although I did not like the idea, Bram determined that Ayda would be accompanying us there for an indefinite stay.

As we pushed away from the d
ock aboard a large steamship bound for Le Havre, France, I noticed the first signs of anticipation and excitement blossoming in my chest. It had been nearly nine years since I had last seen my parents. The very prospect of returning to my boyhood home and family brought me much comfort in the wake of having lost the opportunity to create one of my own. Brigid had been gone for a month, but I still bore her loss most painfully. Rather than think of her, I tried to focus on caring for what I did have: Bram, Ayda, and my own parents. Not to mention I had a purpose—to discover how Maurelle had escaped, and to find that damnable Sword of Light.

Bram was terrified that
something might happen to Ayda—something that would remove all traces of Darragh from this world forever. And so he minded her much like a doting new mother. He had no mind or occupation that did not involve her and her happiness, near or distant. Because of this, he left most of the travel arrangements and daily affairs to me, trusting that I would ensure everything was attended to in an efficient manner despite my inexperience.

“Daine, you are a Master now, and I hardly more then
an increasingly old man,” he told me one night as we sat beside Ayda’s sickbed. He said nothing more, but I knew that he was passing the responsibility of leading the war between humanity and the Fae on to me. I felt burdened, and hoped to God that I would not be left alone in this when I knew so little.

We made the crossing within a few days. I used the same travel template
Bram had when we left France for Dublin. The very moment my foot stepped onto the solid ground of Strasbourg’s piers, I knew I was too impatient to wait for our trunks. I gave notice as to where they should be delivered, and procured a coach to take us promptly to my parents’ cottage. After a month of confinement and subsequent travel, neither Bram nor Ayda were overly eager to once again remain sedentary—for any length of time. Still, my insistence paid off, and with little coercion needed, they both sat down on the hard seats of the carriage.

Ayda sat across from me,
inspecting me with amused, bright-emerald eyes. “Grandad, I think that Daine might be contemplating racing the horses home.” She smiled and sniggered at my fidgeting form as my fingers stopped mid-thrum upon my leg.

I leaned forward and
admitted, “You’re right, I am.” Without another word, I leapt out of the carriage and ran directly across a clearing of wild grasses, the winter wind blowing through my hair in warm welcome. As soon as the carriage had passed from my view upon the road, along with the sound of mirthful laughter within, I used the same welcoming breeze to carry me to my parents’ cottage.

Just ahead, through
the trees and bramble, I could see my father’s shop. It was early January; a light dusting of snow had frosted the ground and winterized plant life. They crunched under my feet as I ran. I smiled and chuckled to myself, unable to contain my relief and joy a moment longer. The trees gave way to brush and grass, and I pushed easily through the last of it and into the clearing that held my parents’ cottage, my mother’s garden, and my father’s barn.

All of it was completely undisturbed. T
he frozen ground did not indicate a single footfall had trodden anywhere on the property. It was pristine, a perfect picture of home and welcome. I ran to the barn, quickly opening the door and peering inside. My father’s shop looked like he was in the midst of multiple projects. I allowed the door to slam behind me as I crossed over to the house. The door was locked and I knocked quickly, calling for both my mother and father.