//Finish now// I sent to Albion, and the clay flowed to envelop the heads of the two huntresses, who screamed curses at me until the gunk cut them off. Once they sank out of sight—mute hunks of rock, safe from any attempt to retrieve them—I looked up in response to a small flutter of wings above. Hugin and Munin stared down at me from the branch of an elm.
“Yeah, I thought you’d show up now. Tell the Einherjar who bet against us to pound sand, Odin. We survived.” The ravens squawked but said nothing intelligible.
Laughter bubbled up from the throat of Flidais. “That was amusing, Atticus. And well done. How fares Granuaile?” I wondered why she had not shown any more concern before now.
“She’s wounded but stable until we finish here.”
“Are we not finished?”
“Not quite. Will you follow me to the edge of the clearing? You too, Herne?”
“Certainly,” Flidais replied, and Herne said aye.
“We mislike riding in the sun,” he said, “but will endure for the sake of our guests.”
The sun had a proper start on the morning now, and the cloud of debris from Windsor Castle was clearly visible once we reached the edge of the pasture. Helicopters were still circling around the Home Park but had yet to stray this far.
“Shouldn’t be much longer,” I said. “If Odin was watching that all unfold, then I’m sure the Olympians had some eyes on us as well.”
The ankle-winged boys didn’t keep us waiting. Less than a minute later, they zipped in from the south and hovered at twelve feet to deliver their decree from on high.
“We bring an urgent message from Jupiter and Zeus,” Mercury boomed.
I squinted and held a hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun. “You guys want to talk to me, get down here. I’m getting a crick in my neck looking up at you.”
They floated down but kept themselves a foot off the ground so that they were still looking down at me.
“Zeus and Jupiter demand the release of the huntresses.”
“No,” I said. “We’re not doing this again. I’m not going to do a long-distance negotiation with the gods of the sky. I want a face-to-face.” I purposely turned away from Mercury and locked eyes with Hermes. “I want you to bring Zeus and Jupiter here to negotiate in good faith, safe conduct guaranteed on both sides, or so help me we will set the earth against all Olympians and none of you will ever be able to set foot on this plane again. Is that understood, Hermes?”
The Greek god nodded but said nothing. Mercury couldn’t stand the lack of attention and said, “I, not Hermes, deliver messages to Jupiter, Druid.”
Oberon. Take a risk for me? Pee on the Roman’s leg and then run.
<Why?>
You’re a guest here too, see.
<I don’t, but I hope I’ll see a T-bone later.>
“I know that, Mercury,” I replied, “but I respect Hermes. He’s not a jumbo ox box, for one thing.”
Mercury blanched, and then his complexion colored to a dyspeptic ochre. “What was that?” he said betwixt ground teeth. He didn’t know what a jumbo ox box was, but he was certain he didn’t like being called one. While he worked himself up to a rage, Oberon trotted up behind him and lifted a leg. A yellow stream of urine splashed against Mercury’s right leg near the back of the knee and trickled down his calf, wetting one of his wings. “What?” he said, flinching away and twisting to see what had happened.
Run now!
<Wauugh!> Oberon said, as he bunched his legs and leapt away from the swing of Mercury’s caduceus. It grazed his ribs but did no damage.
“Cur!” Mercury shouted, and gave chase, cruising above Oberon’s back. He swung and whiffed again as Oberon juked to the right.
<Yikes! He acts like he’s never been peed on before!>
“Herne?” I said. “He’s attacked a guest.” I waved at Mercury, and before the god could process that he’d overstepped his bounds, he had three ghosts on top of him, preventing further flight, and that was just for starters. The hounds leapt at his ankles and tore off his wings with their teeth. They shook the feathers like bird dogs as he fell screaming to the ground. Hermes tensed, ready to fly to Mercury’s aid, but I advised him to stay out of it. “You have a message to deliver, remember?”
That gave him pause and he wafted higher, out of reach. He snarled as he watched Herne and the hunters dismember Mercury into god cutlets. At my signal, Albion did his part and began to coat the various parts into the crust of the earth.
The bags around Hermes’s eyes glowed red, and his musical voice said, “There will be a reckoning, Druid.”
“What do you reckon this is, Hermes?” I pointed to Mercury, who was now being covered in clay and hollering about it. “This is what will become of all Olympians who seek to put me in my place. I will place them underground in pieces for eternity, unable to heal and unable to die. I don’t wish that, however, and I’m sure the Olympians don’t wish it either. Nothing has been done that cannot be undone. So, please, get you to Zeus and Jupiter too, and ask them to come speak in peace so that we can live in harmony again—or, at the very least, aggressively ignore one another.”
Hermes turned his red-rimmed eyes to Flidais. “The Tuatha Dé Danann condone this behavior?”
Flidais cleared her throat before answering in formal, diplomatic tones. “The violence is regrettable and we have no wish to give offense to Olympus, but it is our view that the Druids have acted solely in self-defense and they have the right to defend themselves.”
Hermes snorted in disbelief. “They sundered five dryads from their oaks. You believe that was done in self-defense?”
“It was necessary to contain Faunus if we were to escape Bacchus,” I said, unsure that Flidais knew all the details about that episode, “so, yes, it was self-defense, and the dryads were returned unharmed, as Olympus demanded.”
Hermes ignored me and said to Flidais, “What say you?”
“I say merely this: The Druids do the earth’s work on this plane, while the Tuatha Dé Danann are bound by old oaths to remain in Tír na nÓg as much as possible. We therefore wish them to remain alive and free. Can I be clearer?”
I almost blurted out, “No shit?” but schooled my expression to make it seem as if I had expected her unequivocal support all along. In truth, I’d been expecting an assertion of neutrality, even though she and Manannan—not to mention the Morrigan—had already intervened directly.
The Greek god huffed and his eyes flicked once more to Mercury—or, rather, to where Mercury had been. The earth had swallowed him completely, and his cries could no longer be heard.
“I just want to talk,” I reminded him.
“You might not like how the conversation ends,” Hermes said, before rising higher into the sky and winging south toward Olympus.
Chapter 25
While Hermes went to go tell his dad on me, I glanced at Flidais and said, “I was impressed by what you said. Is that truly what the Tuatha Dé Danann wish for us—to remain alive and free?”
“Perhaps not all of them,” Flidais admitted, “but it is the position of those who matter. It is what Brighid wishes.”
So Flidais remained the staunch ally of Brighid. “I’m relieved to hear it. Please give her my kindest regards.” That would serve as a thank-you without placing me in her debt.
“I will. What’s next?”
“Well, I sure wish Perun were here.”