“Look, it’s about time. It’s eleven p.m. here and Ireland’s eight hours ahead of us. I’m off to fight Jörmungandr. Part of a deal I made with the Norse to try to atone for my actions.”
“Right, I remember ye telling me something about that. But what about Granuaile?”
“She’s off fighting different battles in Taiwan. Probably in the thick of it already.”
“Well, bollocks,” I says. “What do ye think I should be doing, then? I didn’t sign up for this battle, but I figure I may as well sign up now before I’m drawn into it anyways.”
“You can ask the elementals where they need help. I’m sure something will flare up somewhere and require a Druid’s attention. Stay out of Scandinavia and Taiwan and look after everything else.”
“Ah, you and your girlfriend and the entire Fae host get all the glory, then, while I go get ye some coffee?”
Siodhachan frowns. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re not going to be doing anything less important. Wherever Gaia asks for your aid, it will be needed, you can be sure. You know the elementals do not make idle requests of us, because you taught me that. But be prepared for fire.”
“Why’s that?”
“It was part of the last prophecy the sirens spoke to Odysseus, which appears to finally be coming true here. It didn’t mention the wrath of the World Serpent or the terrible attack of a Norse god, but it did specifically say the world will burn. I don’t know how that’s going to come about, or how badly, but the world is an awfully big place and almost all the Druids will be in Scandinavia, if you count the Tuatha Dé Danann, with the others in the Far East. You’ll have an awful lot of ground to cover.”
“Huh. I guess I will. I mean, I’ve looked at these globes and maps and such, and Ireland is such a wee place compared to the rest of it. I’ve traveled to some far distant lands but don’t think I’ve seen much at all compared to you. How do I know what’s worth pursuing? I mean, if the whole world will be on fire, what’s the priority?”
Siodhachan shrugs. “I wouldn’t presume to say, but if I were in your shoes, I’d ask the elementals where gods or monsters are mucking about and go stick my nose in.”
I grunt at him. “Sounds like as good a plan as any.” An owl hoots in the night, spooky as five hells and a jar of creamy peanut butter—that shite’s unnatural. The owl seems like a pretty dire warning, but that’s all right. At least it’s not the Battle Crow. Still, methinks if there was ever a time for a careful word, it’s now.
“Ye take measures, now, to keep your arse free of bite marks, ye hear? We still have all those devils to cure in Tasmania, and don’t be thinkin’ I’d rather have the whole job to meself.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “I fully plan to cure more Tasmanian devils than you and all your apprentices combined.”
“Ah, is that a wager you’re proposin’, then?”
“Aye, if the terms interest me.”
“If I win, then I want to go with ye to a televised baseball game.”
“Oh, that sounds great.”
“Shut your gob, I’m not finished. While we’re there, during the bottom of the seventh inning, I want ye to streak naked on the field for a full fifteen minutes, using the earth’s power to make sure the cops never catch ye.”
“Isn’t that a frivolous use of power?”
“It’s for the benefit of humanity.”
“They’ll tase me eventually.”
“What’s that? I don’t know that word.”
“They’ll use electrical weapons to shock me into unconsciousness.”
“Will they now?” I chuckle at the thought. “I would find that a satisfactory alternative to a full fifteen minutes.”
“I’m sure you would. All right, I’ll agree to those stakes if you agree to mine.”
“What’s that?”
“If I win, you will solemnly swear never to tell that unfortunate story about me and that goat again, and if someone you’ve already told ever brings it up, you’ll disavow it.”
“Shite, lad, I don’t know if I want to give that up. People fall over laughing every time I tell it. You’re getting serious.”
“Well, you suggested fifteen minutes of serious public nudity and possible tasing and prison, so, yes, it’s that serious.”
“Ha! Well, then.”
He extends his hand for me to shake. “Wager taken?”
I grip his hand and shake it. “Aye, lad. Tasmania wins either way.”
“Indeed she does.” He surprises me then and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you for taking me on as an apprentice all those years ago. I’ve seen both horrors and wonders, but I can’t deny I’ve had a full life.”
“Nonsense, lad. Thank ye for making me proud and keeping Druidry alive all this time.”
He pounds me on the back a few times and I do the same, and then we part. It’s going to be hours before things start, so I remain at the riverside while he says farewell to his hounds. It’s a bit slobbery and mushy and I hear some of it by accident, until I break the binding to give them some privacy. But I did hear Oberon wanting to go with Siodhachan and me apprentice being firm that the hound must stay behind for this caper. Which says to me that his expectations must be bleaker than a frog’s hope for humidity in the desert, as I’m pretty sure he’s taken that hound into some dangerous situations before.
It makes me wonder if he hasn’t maneuvered me to the sidelines here, to make sure that I won’t be leaving Greta and the apprentices alone. Methinks it would be like the daffy bastard to do something like that, out of guilt over the deaths of Gunnar and Hal, however much he was or wasn’t responsible. He’s probably thinking he’s the one who’s cocked everything up and it’s his responsibility, so I shouldn’t help or even want to. But of course I want to help—the fecking planet’s on the line. I wonder if he knows that for all me bluster and shite, I’m really on his side and always have been.
I wonder, in fact, if I’ll ever see him again, and if I shouldn’t say something suitably sentimental so that we’re both bawling and leaking a decaliter of snot on each other’s shoulders. But then I think he probably doesn’t need that right now. He needs me confidence in him and bollocks the size of basketballs, metaphorically speaking. And on top o’ that, I can’t properly think of what to say when he comes back outside and waves to me before shifting off to wherever he’s going.
I do hope to catch that baseball game with him someday soon.
it has been so very long since I’ve been able to enjoy Ireland. A few brief, fraught visits aside—always under the threat of discovery by the Fae—the place of my birth has been essentially off limits to me ever since I fled with Fragarach almost two thousand years ago. With Aenghus Óg gone it’s not so bad, but I’ve never felt welcome. I wonder if I ever will again. Perhaps, should I survive to see the other side of this mess I’ve created, there will be a path to a garden of sorts, and if I tend it, forgiveness will grow there.
Right. And perhaps Owen will stop telling that story about me and the goat out of kindness. There’s no way I can heal more devils by myself than he and all his apprentices working together, so it looks like I have some public embarrassment in my future, if I have much of one left.
But I do want to spend more time in Ireland. I’ve missed the Emerald Isle; it’s not the same as every other island in the North Atlantic. It has its own smells and sounds and natural rhythms that sing to me of home, even when I’m not precisely in the area where I grew up.
Thanks to Mekera’s tyromancy, I came to the southern coast south of Skibbereen, where there’s an old fort on a hill overlooking a pasture of sheep. It was with a good measure of relief that I saw no shepherd tending the flock, and the few farmhouses in the area were set back a good distance from the coast. With luck, there would be no witnesses.
My brilliant plan to deal with Jörmungandr arrived in a rental car some minutes later and unfolded herself from the driver’s seat, beaming at me. Her presence was the result of another call I’d made before heading out to see Coyote.