Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(46)

“Don’t believe everything the older druids tell you. That never really happened,” I say. “Well, not exactly. He’s merely eccentric.” But she’s right. He’s known to be completely bonkers. “He’s really old, so it comes off as . . .” I search for the right word.

“Batshit crazy?”

“Just follow my lead,” I say, “and keep your mouth shut.” I shift Sage in my arms, tightening my hold on her, then I step out of the rim of trees and shout a warning. “Oy! Hello there!”

The wise man stops and turns, back straightening. “Who goes? What’s the man with the flower in his hands?”

“It’s only me, sir. Faelan Ua Cleirigh, House of Brighid. Do you remember me? I’ve come for your help—”

“Houses and hovels and Otherborn troubles.” He begins to walk toward us through the field, shooing with his hand. “Fay, fay! What you bring here isn’t wanted. Enough mess has come from god blood.” A herd of small animals appear in the brush, following along, hopping around his feet. Rabbits. A puffy-tailed squirrel scuttles up his leg to his shoulder, perching there with a loud chirp.

“No, I don’t bring trouble,” I say, even though that may not be true. “If I could just petition you for—”

“Bah!” he croaks. “I see what you have. I see her, that fire thing, get it out of my wood. Out, I tell you!”

“Wow,” Aelia mumbles behind me. “This is already going so well.”

I dare to step closer to the wise man, trying not to let my urgency show. “She’s very important,” I say.

“No, no, toes and bones, no!” He shakes his staff and turns to walk away. “Shoo to you and your flames.”

The foggy air begins to mist, dampening my clothes, settling on Sage’s cheek and her dulled red hair. She’s slipping away too fast, the chill of her becoming even more striking against my body. Urgency fills me in a rush, and I take a few steps closer to him.

“Don’t turn us away,” I say, my voice faltering. “We have nowhere else to go. Please, Lailoken.”

He pauses at the sound of his name. His head pulls back a little, and he turns to us again, his wrinkled features scrunched in confusion. Pain filters from his shoulders in thin gray threads. The squirrel on his arm scrambles to hide in his armpit. The rabbits at his feet put their paws on his legs, like they’re trying to be sure he’s all right.

I step toward him again, and he still doesn’t move. “Sir?”

“Perfect,” Aelia says. “You broke him.”

I move even closer, getting a few feet away before I bow my head and whisper, “Sir Lailoken, I’ve come for your help. Please. Hear my petition.”

“Pishposh!” he barks suddenly, making me jump. “I am that man, you say?”

I nod, not sure exactly why he’d ask who he was. “You are Lailoken, the wise man in the wood.”

His furrowed features open, a grin brightening his eyes. “Well, well, I am a man most clever, am I not?”

“Yes, sir.”

He laughs. “Let’s have this task done, then. The night wanes to day quickly. We all know what that means!” He turns and walks away, toward the large juniper tree on the other side of the clearing.

I don’t think we do all know what that means, but I follow him anyway, trying to keep up. For an ancient man, he’s nearly as speedy as the rabbits trailing behind him. Aelia grumbles, sporadically complaining about sticks poking her feet.

The hovel the wise man calls home is a perfect shelter that nature carved from the guts of the gigantic juniper. The roots, larger than a man, coil from the earth, forming sturdy pillars that make up the walls, along with river stones and moss-coated earth. The oval door is carved with runes and protections. A small window is carved out too, but a bird’s nest is packed into the opening.

He waves his staff at the door, and it creaks open on its own before he slips inside. Aelia and I follow. As I enter the small living space, my chest heats, the intense energy inside the ancient tree beginning to circle my hungry skin. Green grows all over, across every surface—clover, moss, mushroom, thyme, and mint, creating a patchwork quilt of life. It’s perfection, the dream home of every child of Cernunnos, like the alfar once slept in before the forests began to disappear. I wonder if this is one of their old homes. If it is, it looks like the human has made a few additions.

There’s a small cluster of yellow crystals in the far corner, their pulsing glow heating the space instead of a fire. A large internal root with a flattened surface seems to be used as a table. Several glass bottles are clustered on it next to three skulls: bird, cat, and canine. A bowl is at the center, steam emerging from the contents, a flat crystal cross section glowing underneath it.

Lailoken hobbles over to the bowl and picks it up. He shoves it at Aelia. “You look hungry, druid girl. Perhaps this will cure you.”

Aelia cringes away. “Ugh, no way. It smells like moldy cheese.”

I shoot her a glare, but Lailoken just chuckles and tosses the steaming bowl back onto the table. The contents splash over the rim, a goopy brown. “It was poisoned, anyway. Don’t need a dead druid cluttering my stoop.” He laughs again like he’s enjoying Aelia’s annoyance. Then he waves me forward. “Bring the fire thing here. Settle her on the clover.” He motions to the spot where I should lay Sage.