She nods at me once and drops her wards. The others follow her lead, and one on the fringes holds up my shirt. “Your clothes are over here, if you want to get dressed.”
I don’t, especially; I’d rather dive into a lake somewhere and clean up, but methinks they want me to, so I jog over there and shove me shanks into the jeans and pull on the shirt.
“I appreciate what ye did here, taking care of all those beasties. That would have been a rough job to do by meself. So you’re the coven Granuaile has been studying Polish with?”
“That’s right,” Malina says. “Would you be interested in learning the language also?”
“Perhaps someday, sure,” I says. “But I’m still working on English at the moment.”
She introduces the entire coven to me, and I’m subtly checking out auras as she does. They are no doubt assessing me as well. I’ve not had particularly good experiences with witches in the past; I’ve met more of the kind that behaved like the dead lad over there than the nurturing sort, but these don’t have a trace of avarice or sullen resentment about them. Guile, sure. But they’re confident and happy and clearly more interested in protecting their people than exploiting them. It wasn’t always that way with this coven, according to Siodhachan, but even he admits that they’ve changed significantly since Malina took over. It reminds me how much awesome responsibility there is in being a leader and a teacher. And seeing them and how powerful they are together, it gives me hope for what me grove of young Druids could be one day. Of a sudden I feel a pang in me chest for them and wish for nothing so much but to catch up with them, wherever they are now, and teach them something new.
It’s been one of me greatest pleasures, since I’ve come forward in time, to see the wonder light up their faces. And it’s probably why I enjoy hanging out with Slomo too; she’s seeing something new every moment she isn’t dangling from a tree, and she loves it. Methinks I know why I find watching others learn to be so fulfilling now: Siodhachan let me know pretty clearly that I could have been a better teacher to him back in the old days. It wounded me pride, sure. There’s nothing I can do to fix that now, but what I can do is be a better teacher for the grove—a far sight better—and so far I think I’m pulling it off.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Where am I, do ye mind me asking?”
“In the southeastern corner of Poland, near the border with Ukraine,” Roksana tells me. She’s the one with the glasses.
“Is there a lake nearby?”
“Lake Solina is only a few kilometers to the west. If you run that way, you can’t miss it.”
“Pretty big, eh?”
“Big enough for bath time, if that’s what you have in mind.”
“Aye, there’s that, plus I want to show the sloth. She’s never seen a lake, only rivers. Do ye need me to bury the body or anything before I go?”
“No, we’ll take care of all this,” Malina says, and I thank them again and say I look forward to meeting them in less dangerous circumstances before collecting Slomo from where she dangles and heading west a wee bit. As soon as we’re out of sight, I strip again and shift to a bear, consigning those soiled clothes to history. Dawn is coming, the dark sky edging to gray, as Slomo climbs on me back. I give her a ride to the lake, which turns out to be a long, spidery thing that fills up some valleys by damming up a river on one side. Looks like lots of people enjoy boating on it, judging by all the moored craft I see along the shores. We pause while we’re still a ways up a hillside so that Slomo can appreciate the sunrise hitting the surface and lighting up the hillsides opposite us.
<Wow, Oaken, that’s pretty! Does all that water just sit there?>
<It has some circulation. It does drain at one end, somewhere. I want to go down there and have a swim. I have blood and shite and demon goo on me and I want it off. Want to come with me?>
<I don’t like swimming,> she says, <but I’ll go wash off the blood and stuff from my hands. I’m feeling a bit sad that I did that to him.>
<No need to feel sad. Ye saved me and the whole world a bunch of trouble. That lad wanted nothing but pain for everyone, and if ye had given him a chance he would have done the same to you.>
I start rambling downhill and Slomo is silent, taking it all in, I suppose, but I can tell she’s thinking too. Finally she says, <He did seem to be pretty mad about stuff, which is strange because there’s so much to be happy about. I mean, even when you figure in toucans, this huge world is pretty awesome. Maybe he’s happier being dead in the sense that he’s not angry about being alive?>
Slomo’s attempts to rationalize the sorcerer’s death fascinate me because she’s focusing not on my safety or hers but rather on his happiness. I figure it’s best to leave out the idea that his spirit is probably in the Christian hell now and he’s unlikely to be happy there.
<No way to know for sure,> I says to her, <but I’m sure looking forward to getting clean, and I’m happy to be here with you.>
<Me too, Oaken! You know what’s strange?>
<What’s that?>
<I wouldn’t be here looking at a lake or seeing any of the things that I’ve seen recently if that fireball hadn’t almost killed me and awakened Pachamama. Strange how something so terrible can lead to something good afterward.>
<You’re right, Slomo. I’ve been surprised by it too.> And that’s no soft lie I’m telling her. Had Gaia not been placed in so much peril, I wouldn’t have seen as much of her as I have recently and learned to love her even more, even as I’m beginning to grasp the scope of the work we have to do to bring her back to something close to balance. Siodhachan should take on a grove of apprentices like mine, and Granuaile too, when she feels ready. We need many more Druids.
Slomonomobrodolie climbs down off me back when we get to the shore. It’s early enough that no one’s around to marvel at the black bear and sloth on the shore. I wade on in and feel the insistent burn on me right forearm instantly cool down. Once I’m deep enough to feel me paws struggle to reach the bottom, I shift to human, take a startled gasp at the cold, and get meself all scrubbed.
Slomo is less than expert at washing herself. Those claws are great for climbing trees but do make softer tasks a bit troublesome. She’s splashing around, rubbing her wrists awkwardly with the flat of her hands, but mostly she’s getting frustrated.
Would ye like some help getting your claws and arms clean? My fingers might be able to handle the job.
<Oh, sure, Oaken, that would be great! I want to be clean, but I’m not very good at staying that way.>
Not to worry. Ye just described the fundamental state of being for most of us.
before Brighid’s block of Fae can engage, the Olympians see room for sport between the flanks and swoop in to have their fun. And I do think they viewed it as fun—at least Zeus and Ares did, along with their Roman counterparts. The thunder gods flew down and hurled their gods of war at the mass of draugar, which had no immediate effect since the draugar allowed the armored bodies to pass through and roll on by. Ares and Mars came to a stop and began swinging huge maces around, sending some draugar flying through the air but not really ending any of them. They thought it all entertaining, depending on their armor to stop whatever attacks might get through their defenses. They were laughing. It was recreational for them, since they felt they had nothing to lose. They couldn’t die, really; once their injuries became catastrophic, they would vacate their flesh and regenerate upon Olympus.
Zeus and Jupiter didn’t deign to land and get involved. They just floated out of reach and smiled at Ares and Mars playing around. Athena and Minerva had not come to play, however, and neither had the Apollos. They went to work behind the others. The goddesses worked with bronze-tipped spears and the gods with shields and swords, thrusting blades through draugr faces and cutting down reanimated Fae. They’d been brought to the front by Hermes and Mercury, who dropped them off and then sailed over the draugar, wearing some strange goggles, scouting ahead for something—presumably to find where Hel and Loki had hidden themselves in the horde. Perhaps that’s what Zeus and Jupiter were waiting for—a true target worthy of battle. They wanted to skip the minions and proceed directly to the boss fight, because there were Girl Scout Cookies on the line. I’m not sure Hermes and Mercury were up to the task, though. Maybe those goggles would allow them to see through illusions and maybe not. The Romans had used something like that to deconstruct camouflage and find the Druids in the old days—some invention of Minerva’s. But seared into the flesh of both Loki and Hel was his mark, some sort of runic protection from divination that had obviously kept them hidden very well to this point, and Loki was a master of disguise. I doubted Minerva had come up with something to pierce his protections—unless those goggles showed them the magical spectrum. That would be the key to finding them both, but neither the Norse nor the Olympians were renowned for magical sight—Odin typically needed to be seated on Hlidskjálf, the silver throne, to see all. Of those remaining on the field, only Brighid and I had the ability to use it—unless there were other members of the Tuatha Dé Danann in her army somewhere. My guess was that she left some behind in case she didn’t return.