Earth's Hope (3 page)

“Ye must be a Hunter,” Gwydion cut in, angling a glance at a tall, slender woman with long black hair and a tawny mountain lion curled up behind her chair. Black skirts pooled around her, and a teal tunic covered her upper body.

“What tipped you off?” Her blue eyes shone with merriment.

For one sour moment, Fionn considered mentioning that she and Bran would make quite a pair since they saw humor in a bleak situation, but he kept his thoughts to himself. As if the cat could read minds, it leveled its amber gaze his way and growled.

“Surely ye have a name,” Fionn prodded.

“The cat is Tabitha,” Bella quorked from her perch. “She said her human is named Eve.”

The dark-haired woman shifted in her chair and laid a hand on her bond animal’s head. “Spilling secrets again, eh?” The cat growled a second time.

“We waste time sparring.” The other occupant of the table spoke up. “I am Timothy, and I represent the Healers who are here.” Curly brown hair shot out from his head at odd angles, and his hazel eyes held warmth. He wore robes much like Gwydion’s, except his were black.

“Where’s Aislinn?” Gwydion asked. “She was supposed to represent Seers.”

“Not quite sure who that might be,” Corin muttered, “since she’s the only human I’ve ever known with that gift.”

“Aislinn’s babysitting the dragons,” Fionn said. “They respond better to her than to anyone else, so she volunteered.” Rune, Aislinn’s bond wolf, had been far less anxious to take on the task, but she’d vetoed his request to hunt. Aislinn was Fionn’s mate. She’d be his wife if things ever slowed down enough for Gwydion to marry them. His heart swelled with affection and longing when he thought of her lush body and prickly disposition. Win, lose, or draw, she was his, sharp edges and all, and he wouldn’t have things any other way.

Fionn pushed to his feet and went to the pantry where he retrieved two bottles of mead. Returning to the table, he plonked them down and went in search of glasses. As he worked, he said, “The best I can tell, we are of three minds about our next steps. Some of us want to go after the other dark gods. Others want to target the Old Ones, or Lemurians as I’ve always named them. The third contingent wishes to solidify our power base and let the enemy come to us.”

“Aye,” Bran nodded, “’tis a fair encapsulation.”

“Mayhap we might come up with pros and cons to each approach.” Gwydion stood about the same time Fionn found his seat. The master enchanter tipped one of the mead bottles, pouring the fragrant liquid into a glass. He drank, set the glass down, and got paper and a pencil from a drawer at the far end of the kitchen.

“Not sure I see the point,” Eve said. “We favor biding our time and the three of you”—she pointed an index finger at Fionn, Gwydion, and Bran—“would take a more offensive approach.”

“All right.” Fionn started to bring the mead bottle to his mouth, remembered his manners, and poured himself a jot. “What is the benefit to waiting until we are set upon?”

“Before ye answer,” Bran jumped into the conversation, “consider they may never attack us directly.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Daniel asked.

“If they can gain control of Earth, all except for this corner of Inishowen, they may well call it even,” Bran noted. “We’ve proven difficult to fight, and the dark ones are lazy.”

“I still say we have no choice,” Fionn snapped. “If we can immobilize more of the dark gods, our task will be done. The Lemurians are a dying race. ’Tis why they allied themselves with the dark ones. They lived in those infernal tunnels beneath Mount Shasta for centuries with nary a problem that rose above ground level.”

“So you’re thinking they’ll sink back into oblivion?” Daniel asked.

“’Tis exactly what I’m thinking,” Fionn concurred. Since no one contradicted him, he kept talking. “Aislinn did away with Slototh, god of filth and all that’s discarded. Dewi discombobulated Tokhots with dragon’s fire. She injured Perrikus on his home world, but he recovered.”

“You can’t kill them,” Eve protested. “It’s one of the reasons we feel it’s a waste of time to take them on in battle.”

“Aye, lass, ye canna kill them,” Fionn said, “but ye can cause them enough damage they think twice about bothering you again.”

“Assuming Slototh and Tokhots, his trickster buddy, are down for the count,” Gwydion said, “that leaves Perrikus, D’Chel, Majestron Zalia, and Adva.”

“Refresh my memory,” Corin said. “Perrikus controls power and energy, but what about the others?”

“D’Chel is the god of illusion. Adva controls portals, and Majestron Zalia is Perrikus’s mother. She’s their de facto queen, and her blood is just as poisonous as Tokhots’s was,” Bran said.

“We likely wouldna have to take all of them on,” Fionn noted. “Once we were down to one or two, I believe they’d withdraw to their borderworlds and leave us be for a few centuries.”

“So,” Eve narrowed her eyes, “if we took out two of them that might be sufficient?”

Daniel shook his head. “I don’t like it. There are too many unknowns. The Celts are certain the Lemurians will fade into obscurity. I’m not so certain.”

“Why?” Gwydion arched a brow.

“If they’re dying, do you expect they’ll allow themselves to dwindle into nothingness without a fight? They were the Third Race.”

“Yon human may have a point,” Gwydion said. “They hatched up that plan to bond with the dark gods to save themselves. Just because it dinna work the way they planned, they may have other tricks up their sleeves.”

“We need consensus,” Fionn ground out. “There isna any more data that will open some magic door to something we have yet to come up with.”

Corin stood and closed her teeth over her lower lip. “I will discuss this with the other Mages. My suggestion is we reconvene tonight. I don’t know about the rest of you”—she tossed her head, and her gaze moved from Daniel to Eve to Timothy—“but I’m not willing to volunteer my people for slaughter unless they go willingly.”

She strode across the kitchen and went out through the door leading to the great room of Fionn’s sixteenth century manor house. After a slight pause, the other three followed her, with the cat bringing up the rear. Bella cawed something, and the cat made a sound between a purr and a snarl in return.

“What was that about?” Fionn asked his raven.

She fluffed her feathers. “You don’t want to know.”

That did it. Fionn jumped from his chair so fast it made a squealing noise as its legs scraped the wooden floor. He ended up directly below Bella. “Aye, I most certainly do want to know.”

Bella made a great show of preening her feathers with her razor-sharp beak. “Tabitha thinks the Hunters may leave.”

“Fucking great,” Bran muttered.

“Aye.” Gwydion blew out an exasperated sounding breath. “Here I thought we were a gnarly lot when it came to ‘getting to yes.’ We’re pikers compared with humans.”

“Get down here.” Fionn patted his shoulder and the bird fluttered into place, her talons digging deep into his shoulder muscles. He walked back to the table, grabbed a mead bottle, and took a long swallow.

“What’s our next move?” Bran inquired caustically. “Since what we’re doing seems to be working so well.”

“Mayhap we should ask Aislinn,” Fionn said. “She’s human, so she might have better luck second guessing them.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” Gwydion seized the bottle from Fionn.

“What is?”

“We dinna treat the humans in this part of the world verra well,” Bran clarified. “They have no reason to trust us.”

Fionn grimaced. Though he’d spent most of the last few hundred years in North America, he was equally guilty. Three-and-a-half years before, when the Lemurians had weakened the gates between the worlds and allowed the dark gods access to Earth, he’d laid low right along with all the other Celts. They’d stood by—and done nothing—while the Lemurians had marched millions of humans into a radioactive vortex. Aislinn had called him to task soundly for that particular lapse. Once she’d gotten done with him, Fionn felt ashamed.

The Lemurians’ excuse had been all humans without magic were worthless, an unnecessary drain on planetary resources, but the truth was much closer to something quite different. Even with an infusion from the dark gods, the Lemurians’ power was limited. It took all their capacity to marshal humans with magic to do their bidding. There wasn’t anything left over to control masses of other humans who would likely have staged a rebellion.

“Ye’re a mite on the quiet side,” Gwydion observed.

“’Tis because Bran hit the nail on its head,” Fionn admitted. “They doona trust us, and I doona blame them. Were I in their place, I wouldna trust us, either.”

“If we had time,” Gwydion spoke slowly, “we might wait for trust to develop naturally.”

“Time is a luxury we doona have,” Bran said.

“Worst case,” Fionn muttered, “we gather the other Celts and do what we have to.” A thought surfaced, and he glanced from Gwydion to Bran. “Do you two agree with my strategy of targeting the remaining dark gods?”

“’Twould be best if we did a bit of both.” Bran pushed to his feet and went to glance out a window.

“Say more.” Fionn snapped his fingers.

Bran snorted and turned to face Fionn. “What? Am I your dog now to be clucked at?”

“I wasna clucking, I was snapping.”

“Fine.” Bran shoved his long, heavy hair behind his shoulders. “The Old Ones are weak. We could take enough of them out in a single campaign to send them scurrying back into Taltos for the duration.”

“What would that buy us?” Gwydion asked.

“They helped Tokhots and Perrikus kidnap the youngling dragons,” Bran said. “Doona underestimate them. They have a group intelligence, and it makes them slow to move, but dangerous once they do.”

Gwydion narrowed his eyes. “Mayhap ye have a point. After all, Aislinn got rid of Slototh single-handedly, so ’twill not necessarily take numbers to decimate the dark gods, particularly not if the dragons help.”

Breath rattled from Bran. “Aye, and I’d nearly forgotten about that. How do ye suppose Arawn’s getting along telling Dewi about the other dragons?”

Gwydion shrugged. “He’s not back. It might mean she immolated him with dragon fire.”

“What other dragons?” Fionn felt confused.

“Och, and ye dinna know,” Gwydion said.

“Dinna know what?” Fionn clenched his teeth together as annoyance built.

“Once Nidhogg was captured, Odin threw a fit and said if his dragon wasn’t free, no dragon should be.”

Bran picked up the tale, “Arawn got wind of Odin’s plan to target the dragons and sequestered four of them on the dragons’ borderworld.” He shrugged. “It never occurred to us Dewi would avoid the place for so long.”

“And ye dinna tell me, why?” Fionn asked.

“Because ye were closer to Dewi than the rest of us, and we were afraid ye’d tell her,” Gwydion said.

“Mmph. Why dinna Odin go after Dewi?” Fionn asked.

Gwydion’s eyes widened. “Because she’s a god just like him.”

Fionn stood and joined Gwydion on the far side of the kitchen. “I’m sick of problems. Give me solutions.”

Gwydion mock bowed. “So sorry, your lordship.”

“Aye.” Bran chuckled softly. “The verra next solution that hops into my head is yours.”

“This isna funny,” Fionn snapped.

“Nay. ’Tisn’t,” Gwydion agreed.

Fionn might not have noticed if he hadn’t been focused on Bran, but the mage shut his eyes and his body stilled for the space of a few heartbeats. When his coppery eyes opened, they held a grim cast.

“What?” Fionn asked.

“Prophecy be damned,” Bran said. “I’m often wrong, particularly for things like this, but I fear the dark willna give us a choice.”

Adrenaline shot through Fionn, leaving a bitter taste at the back of his throat. “What did ye see?” he demanded.

“Nothing specific. The Lemurians are far from storming your castle gates, but I felt them closing. They know if they wait until the baby dragons grow past a month, their odds of winning plummet.”

“Arawn should be back soon,” Gwydion said. “Once he is, I say we seek out the humans, apologize all over the place for our past sins, and map out a defensive strategy in case we’re attacked.”

Bella squawked and launched herself off Fionn’s shoulder, flying toward the open doorway. “Where are ye going?” Fionn demanded.

“To tell Tabitha it’s not safe for them to leave.”

“That bird has good instincts,” Gwydion said.

The raven, who’d flown past the doorway, returned, hovering in the air. “At last!” she cackled. “Someone believes in me. Maybe you’d like to take over as my bonded one?” She flew close to Gwydion and brushed her beak through his hair.

“Doona be ridiculous.” Fionn snatched his bird out of the air and held her between his hands. She pecked at him, but not hard enough to draw blood.

“A bit more appreciation would be nice,” she said.

“Aye, and there are things I’d like as well,” he countered, “but we’re stuck with one another.” He raised the raven to eye level. “Would ye like me to catalogue your sins?”

“Not particularly.” Bella looked away.

“I dinna think so.” Fionn let go, and the bird made a low, sweeping circle before she flew out of the room.

“Thanks,” Gwydion said, his voice weary. “Ye spared me telling her I dinna wish a bond animal.”

“She might have pecked your eyes out,” Bran said.

Fionn nodded his agreement. Bella was more than capable of something like that. “I’m going to find Aislinn,” he told the others. “She’s probably outside next to the moat, since the small dragons like to swim.”

“We’ll come with you.” Gwydion shot a glance Bran’s way. “Won’t we?”

“Aye.” Bran stood. “I could use a dragon fix. Let’s see, we only need about one more week afore they’re cannon fodder.”

“Doona let Dewi hear you call them that,” Fionn said and strode from the kitchen. If the Celtic dragon god had her way, her younglings would never get anywhere close to battle. Nidhogg was more reasonable, but in the end they were his children too, and he’d sacrifice himself to protect them.

Chapter Three

Aislinn sat next to the moat, bundled against the chill of an early evening. Winter days were short this far north, and the ever-present damp soaked into her bones. Seven young dragons cavorted in the water. Rune had been in the moat with them, but he’d tired of their antics and now lay by her side, tongue lolling as his thick black and gray pelt dried. Thank Christ, Dewi and Nidhogg would be back within a few hours, and then they could take over.