Celtic Magic Page 3

  “This is amazing. Like stepping back in history.” I turned to Maira. “What year is it here?”

  “2018 AD, I suppose, just like Earth. Time passes here as well, but slightly differently. We maintain the ways of our past, so it looks like we’re somewhere in the first millennium BC. But this city—this whole realm—is an amalgamation of the many types of Celtic beliefs and styles.”

  “It’d give an archaeologist a heart attack, you mean,” Lachlan said.

  “Exactly. Good thing none of those grave robbers are here.” Maira grinned. “Celts aren’t just one religion. We are a group that shared a culture and a way of living. We existed for thousands of years, spread across Europe, from Spain to Turkey and all the way up to Scotland. You’ll see that in Otherworld—all of our people are here, all of them living in different ways with different beliefs.”

  I liked that idea—they might be different, but they were united.

  We stopped in front of the last wall that protected the city. This main gate was closed, and it began to creak loudly as it rose to permit us entrance. Two guards at the top of the twin towers wore leather armor like Maira’s. They waved down, big grins on their faces.

  As we stepped through, I was struck by the sheer enormity of the place.

  It was a city.

  True, it was built of wood and there were no skyscrapers, but it was huge. Maira led us past an area of round houses with thatched roofs, toward long low buildings that looked like many people could live within.

  Finally, we reached a part of town that looked like it contained large estates. The patches of land were larger, as were the buildings.

  “Where are we going, exactly?” I asked.

  “To meet someone.” Maira grinned enigmatically. “There is a lot you must learn.”

  She led us up the path to one of the large wooden buildings. Goats and sheep grazed in the yard out front. We’d neared the door of the house when a woman rushed out.

  I stumbled, nearly going to my knees.

  “Mom?” I felt lightheaded.

  She rushed up to me, blond hair glinting in the light and her green dress billowing about her legs. She threw her arms around me.

  It felt like the comfort of a million hugs. The million hugs I’d missed out on when she’d died.

  Tears sprang to my eyes as I hugged her back, my mind spinning. What the heck was happening?

  She pulled back, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re here. Look at how big you are!”

  I blinked, struggling to take it all in. The last time I’d seen her alive, I’d been thirteen. She’d told us to run while she held off the ones who hunted us.

  She’d succeeded, but it had killed her.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “This is my afterworld,” she said. “My ancestors were Celts. Like you. And because I am a seer, I came here upon my death.”

  I couldn’t believe it. I was really with my mother. And she was solid. A real person. Not a ghost like when she’d appeared in my dream at the stone circle, telling me that I must not pursue my identity.

  “Did you really come to me in a dream and try to stop me from learning what I am?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  Maira cleared her throat, and I jumped.

  My mother flicked her an annoyed glance. “Fine, Maira. You’re right.” She looked at me. “We need to go to the sacred grove. I’ll explain on the way.”

  “All right.” I had no idea what was happening, but I was willing to go along to find out.

  I turned, following my mother back down the lane, away from her house. The two druids had disappeared, but Maira stuck by our side. Lachlan held back, as if he sensed I wanted space with my mother.

  I did.

  I liked Lachlan. A lot. But this was some intensely personal stuff, and we weren’t there yet in our relationship. Not at that level of sharing, at least.

  Maira led us toward the back of the village.

  “Well?” I asked my mom. “What happened in the dream?”

  “My own selfishness.” She sighed. “This is dangerous, Maira. What you are here to do. What you will learn about yourself. When you become The Druid and embrace all your powers… it is very likely that you could die.” Distress creased her face.

  “You’ve seen this in a vision?” I asked.

  “I see many futures. And that is one of them. Many of them, actually. There are many ways that this could go wrong. And I wanted to protect you, so I tried to keep you from learning what you are. But that is no longer possible.”

  She’d seen a vision of me dying? I swallowed hard. Yikes. “You’ve always tried to protect us.”

  “Always.” She gripped my hand, her voice fierce. “But I can’t protect you from yourself. From what you are meant to be. I’ve accepted that. All I can do is try to help you.”

  I smiled, gratitude welling within me.

  Maira led us through a back gate and down the side of the hill. In front of us, a procession of figures in white and green robes was heading toward a forest about a mile away.

  “Who are they?” I asked.

  “Druids,” my mother said. “Now that you are here, we will perform a ritual to ask the oak trees for help with your mission. We know that you are the one meant to stop the evil encroachers, but we don’t know how exactly. We hope that they will guide us.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Because I had no idea how to stop that black stain besides finding and killing the one who created it. Maybe that would do the trick.

  We followed the druids down the hill and toward the forest. As we neared the enormous oak trees, something in my chest calmed. It felt like I was meant to be here. Like I’d waited my whole life to come to this place.

  And finally, I had.

  We passed through the trees, which rose tall on either side, their leaves rustling in the breeze.

  “Oaks are sacred,” Maira said. “We come here for all of our most important rituals.”

  She led us toward a small clearing where a massive bonfire had been built. Though it was daylight, it was mostly dark back here. The canopy of oak leaves cut off much of the sun, and fairy lights sparkled among the trees.

  A dozen druids surrounded the fire, both men and women. They were dressed in long cloaks of different colors, and many of them wore headdresses. Their gazes were solemn as they looked at me, and suddenly, I felt the weight of their expectations heavy on my shoulders.

  A woman who wore a headdress of antlers stepped forward, her white dress gleaming in the light of the fire. “Welcome, Ana Blackwood, Warrior Druid.”

  I nodded and stepped forward. Apparently, this was happening.

  Lachlan held back, but I could feel his gaze on me, giving me strength.

  “You are here to learn about your power,” the woman said. “To become The Druid, fully.”

  I nodded. “And to stop whatever evil is spreading across this land.”

  “Your fate is entwined with it.” She gestured toward the fire. “Step closer. Be enveloped by the sacred smoke.”

  My mind was racing, but I did as I was told. When the druids had said that I was meant to come here, they’d meant it. They even had a ritual all set up and ready for me. And if my mother trusted them, then I did, too.

  I stepped close to the flames, until I could feel the heat flickering on my face. Within the dancing orange fire, I caught sight of a familiar shape.

  A cat made of fire.

  A hairless cat. A jewel glinted at its ear.

  Muffin.

  The Cat Sìth was here, watching over me. And, apparently, he could turn into fire.

  Around me, the druids began to chant. Their low voices flowed through the forest. The smoke rolled toward me, pale gray and thick. It enveloped me, but it wasn’t difficult to breathe.

  Magic stole through my body, making my muscles tremble. Visions flashed in my eyes. Battles and blood, victory and defeat. Life and death.

  In the distance, the sound of chan
ting rose, filling the air with the power of a thousand voices. My head spun as the visions came faster and faster. I couldn’t make sense of them. None of them stuck around long enough for me to really see them. They were more a feeling than anything else.

  Lightning struck in the distance, thunder cracking behind it.

  The smoke disappeared.

  The visions faded.

  I stumbled backward, gasping. The fire in front of me had died down, and the circle of druids stared at me.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  The woman wearing the antlers spoke. “We druids are the holders of knowledge. We are the teachers, judges, healers, priests, seers. We use the flame to help see the future and the present—to determine courses of action that must be taken.”

  “And that’s what just happened?”

  She nodded. “You are the Warrior Druid, Ana. You are the only one among us with the power and ferocity to be the warrior. The Celtic gods have blessed you with their magic, but you must obtain their gifts.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “The smoke has revealed that you must go on a dangerous journey of knowledge to the sacred grove,” the antlered woman said. “Your path will interlace with the evil that has invaded this land. The smoke has indicated that the evil takes a path that is entwined with yours. It may also seek knowledge from the grove.”

  “So if I go there, I can learn more about my magic and also about the one who is invading Otherworld.”

  “Yes. You are linked.”

  Oh boy. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “You have tools at your disposal,” the woman said. “Your tattoos are a sign of the Warrior Druid. They are a powerful weapon, but you must unlock them. You will find something at the grove to help with this.”

  “Any idea what?” I asked.

  “That is for you to find out.”

  “How do I find the grove?”

  “Your premonition sense will guide you. It is one of a druid’s greatest gifts—the ability to see the truth. To see what must be done. Consider it your druid sense.”

  The corner of my mouth cocked up. My druid sense. I liked that.

  “I’ll get started right away,” I said.

  “Good. But be forewarned. It will be dangerous.”

  “I’d be surprised if it weren’t.”

  3

  An hour later, I said goodbye to my mother and the druids and set off with Lachlan. My mother had given Lachlan a leather backpack full of food for the journey, and Maira had given us two white horses, each wearing a simple leather saddle and bridle. I’d never ridden a horse before, and this one seemed to realize I was an idiot. He looked at me with a pitying expression that made me feel better, frankly. He’d go easy on me.

  I hoped.

  “You can call him Stan,” Maira said. “He’ll take you as far as he can, then he’ll return home.”

  I patted the side of Stan’s neck, and he gave me a baleful look. Lachlan seemed much more at ease on his mount, which was named Finn.

  We set off, riding across the field toward the black stain that snaked over the ground. Fortunately, Stan was as nice as he looked, and he kept his pace even and easy.

  As we neared the black stain, it began to stink of death and decay.

  “What kind of magic is this?” I peered down at the blackened grass that appeared to be rotting. The stain was about twenty feet wide, but seemed to be very slowly growing.

  “I’ve no idea.” Lachlan frowned. “But don’t touch it.”

  “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

  The sun rose higher in the sky, warming the day and gleaming on the green grass that hadn’t been destroyed by the dark magic. Birds chirped in the distance, cheerful songs that didn’t match the worry that tugged at my chest.

  But beneath the worry was a sense of knowing—like I was home. And that same sense drew me forward, toward the east, where answers would lie. Though my magic was on the fritz, my premonition sense was going strong. It was the druid in me, more so than anything else, telling me to keep going east. It followed the path of the dark magic that cut across the land like a horizontal lightning bolt.

  “The dark magic has to be following whoever invaded this place,” I said. “Like they’re so evil they leave a slime trail behind.”

  “Like a giant slug?” Lachlan grinned.

  “Exactly.”

  I expected to see a forest eventually, but the path stayed clear, a flat meadow that went on endlessly. An hour later—which is a very long time on a horse for a newbie—the terrain ahead became rockier. I squinted.

  “Does it look like the land just drops off ahead?” I asked. “Right after the rocks.”

  “Aye. A giant ravine, maybe.”

  I rode up to the edge of it, slowing Stan as we neared. He looked back at me, pinning me with one eye as if to say, “You seriously think I’d walk off a cliff?”

  I shrugged. “Sorry.”

  He neighed, and I took it as an acceptance of my apology.

  Lachlan jumped off his horse and tied the reins off to a large, slender rock. I did the same, then approached the huge gorge. It dived down into the earth at least a hundred feet. It was even wider across, with no bridge in sight.

  “Well, this is going to slow us down.” I looked at Stan, who didn’t seem inclined to leave. Since Maira had said he would just leave when he was done helping us, I assumed it meant we had to get him across the ravine with us. I looked back at Lachlan. “Any idea how to get across?”

  He was studying our surroundings, his brow creased. “Not yet.”

  I turned, inspecting the giant stones that surrounded us. They were totally different than the rest of our surroundings, and sparkled with a light layer of magic. A pile of glassy looking rocks sat to my right, with another pile farther back.

  I pointed to them. “Those are weird.”

  Lachlan approached the pile and picked up a rock, inspecting it. “Aye. Iron slag, I think.”

  “Slag?”

  “A byproduct of iron production. Slag can be used in some spells. The more ancient, the better.”

  Iron production? Out here?

  I stood on a huge rock slab. It was indented with a long channel that looked like a gutter, and the whole thing vibrated with magic. Water could flow through the channel and over the edge of the cliff. I followed the channel back to the tall rocks that sat about ten yards from the cliff edge.

  Up close, it appeared to be some kind of strange setup. A pile of logs and kindling sat beneath a huge bowl-shaped rock that was propped between two boulders. Next to it was another pile of stones, each streaked through with different colors.

  “We’re someplace strange.” I picked up one of the gray-streaked stones. “If those rocks over there were slag, then this is probably iron ore.”

  Lachlan approached the huge bowl-shaped rock that was propped over the long-dead fire. “And this is a crucible.”

  “The Celts were an Iron Age people, right?” I looked around with new eyes. “This must have been a forge.”

  “Outside?”

  “There might have once been a building over it, but maybe not.” I pointed to the crucible. “Once the iron was molten, they’d tip this over, and the liquid would flow down the channel toward the gorge. Maybe it would then form a bridge.”

  “There’s magic here,” Lachlan said. “It’d be necessary for that plan to work.”

  A meow sounded from behind me. Light it up!

  I turned, spotting Muffin sitting on a rock. Bojangles and Princess Snowflake III sat next to him.

  I looked at Lachlan, who shrugged. “Might as well try.”

  I pulled a box of matches from my pocket and knelt by the logs and kindling.

  “You always carry matches?” Lachlan asked.

  “Got to be prepared.” It was a little thing—me being prepared for this random challenge—but it made me grin.

  I struck the match and held it to the kindling. As soon as
the tiny flame sparked, magic swelled in the air. The fire burst to life, and I stumbled backward.

  The flame roared, growing ten feet tall, then fifteen. It totally encompassed the huge crucible.

  Lachlan grabbed my shoulders and dragged me backward, away from the heat. I scrambled upward, my heart pounding.

  We watched as the heat grew. Finally, the crucible tilted over, pouring molten iron into the channel that cut through the ground. From twenty yards away, the horses watched with bored expressions.

  “I guess they’re used to this,” I said.

  “I’m not.” Lachlan watched as the molten metal flowed toward the gorge. When it reached the edge of the rock, it rose up in the air, forming a narrow bridge that began to stretch across the ravine. Magic sparked more strongly in the air as the metal flowed. I grinned.

  It didn’t take long for the bridge to form, and within minutes, the molten metal hardened into a dark gray iron bridge.

  “Wow.” I turned to Lachlan. “Ready to cross?”

  “Let’s do it.” He strode to his horse and untied the reins, then swung himself up into the saddle.

  I joined him, and our mounts trotted toward the bridge like they’d been expecting it all along. They probably had.

  When Stan took his first step across, I held my breath. His hooves clacked on the metal below, and I gripped the reins tightly. The bridge had no railings and was only about five feet wide. Given that it spanned over a hundred feet, it had to be structurally unsound. No engineer would approve it.

  But it’d been made by magic.

  Still, that didn’t keep me from squeezing my eyes closed to keep from looking down at the gorge below.

  You’re doing great!

  Muffin’s voice sounded from behind me. I peeked back over my shoulder and spotted the three cats sitting on the other side of the bridge, apparently unwilling to cross until we’d cleared it.

  I scowled at them.

  What? Muffin meowed. Just letting you test it. I’d like to hang on to my nine lives, thank you very much. But really, you’re doing fabulous!

  Given that he’d pulled the same trick with the beanstalk in the fairytale realm, I had to figure that my cat was just as afraid of heights as I was.