DruidFic
Some Iron Druid fanfic below the cut:) It’s a work in progress, but I’m kind of liking where this idea’s going.
I lifted my whiskey glass and took a long pull, feeling the smooth liquid burn my throat all the way down. I sighed appreciatively. There was nothing quite like a cold sip of Tullamore Dew to smooth out the tension of a long hard day and let the bitterness in to stay. I brushed my dark hair out of my eyes and looked around the pub. At this late hour, the dancefloor was fairly empty, but most of the tables still served their patrons faithfully, holding up drunken elbows and heads.
"Need a refill on that, Aylish?" Mac, the bartender, slid the bottle down the bar towards me, and I flashed him a smile by way of thanks. As I poured the golden liquid into my glass, I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking up, I met the eyes of a burly young man with a mop of sandy hair and a face full of freckles. He held a book in one hand, and was gazing intently at my right arm.
"Can I help you?" I asked him warily, setting the bottle back down on the bar.
"I'm sorry to bother you," the boy said, his face flushing as he met my eyes. "I uh, I just couldn't help but noticing your tattoos."
"Uh huh?" I said. I pulled a packet of cigarettes out of my pocket. I knew I wasn't supposed to smoke in the bar, but the clear social signals that I was about to light up usually let people know that the conversation was over.
"Well, I just wondered, like, are you a druid?"
That froze my blood. I hadn't heard that accusation in the gods knew how long. "Why the hell would you say a thing like that?" I asked.
The boy went from flush to pale faster than I could blink. "I, uh…well I just thought, you know, your tattoos…"he trailed off as my face darkened in anger. Before I really even had the chance to think about what I was doing, I was out of my seat and had the boy backed into the wall, my hand closed tight around the collar of his shirt.
"Who put you up to this?" I hissed in his face.
Stammering, stumbling over his words, he thrust a book into my face, "I-I j-j-just -just this…" I looked at the cover of the book. Hounded was its title and, on the front cover of the book was a red-headed man. His tattoos, looping around his biceps and down his forearm, were identical to mine.
"Where did you get this?" I demanded, looking back up to the frightened boy.
"Ch-ch-chapters?" he croaked.
I let him go, and he stumbled away from me and out the door, casting fearful glances over his shoulder as he went.
"Everything okay?" Mac asked as I came back over to the bar.
"Yeah, just some punk kid trying to make a pass," I said casually. I drained the glass of whiskey.
Mac shook his head, looking mournful, "Damn, they just get more and more brazen these days, don't they?"
"They sure do," I agreed, pulling my leather jacket on over my black t-shirt and picking up my keys. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Mac," I called.
"You take care of yourself out there, Aylish!" he responded as I walked out.
The streets of the city were damp from the recent rain, and I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. My head was awhirl, and I felt like I had been punched in the chest. All this time, all of this…pain, and there were others? I shook my head, trying to clear the sudden fog that had come over it.
I'm sure, looking back, that I jostled several people on my way, but I didn't care. I hardly even saw them. I stopped in front of the big store window of Chapters. The book, several copies of it, was on display, next to a large poster shouting that the author, a Kevin Hearne, was coming to the store to sign copies. As if I was walking through a dream, I entered the store and pulled a copy off the shelf. I saw, as I turned the pages, that my hands were shaking.
A druid. A real, living, breathing servant of Gaia. And he was living in Arizona.
I felt my chest tighten, and I clenched my teeth hard to try to stop myself from weeping. All these years wandering the world, believing I was alone, and there had been another.
I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself, force my brain to think rationally about the situation. I had to keep my reactions under lock and key until I had the leisure and safety to let them out. Once my breath had evened out and my vision returned to normal, I kept the book in my hand and moved towards the fantasy aisle to check if there were any more. There were seven, in fact. Quite the busy man, our druid. I chose trade paperback copies of all seven books and took them to the front counter.
The young lady in the black vest behind it lit up as she saw the books I laid in front of her. "Oh my gosh, these are my favorites!" she gushed, "You're just going to love them. They're so witty!"
I smiled tightly, "I'm glad," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "I wouldn't want to invest in shitty books."
"Oh, I know, that's the absolute worst, right? When you buy a book on spec, thinking it will be amazing, and then it turns out to be a downer…" I let her chatter on, concentrating on my heart rate as she rang the books through the till and took my plastic Canadian rainbow money. She placed the books in a red and white plastic bag and tucked my receipt inside with them.
"Have a great night!" said cheerfully, "Hope you like them!"
"Thanks, I will," I murmured. I tucked the books under my arm and walked out.
As soon as I was safe in my apartment, I locked the door behind me and slid down to sit on the floor, my head in my hands. My breath came in short gasps, and I felt tears rolling down my cheeks as memories flooded over me.
I saw fire and blood. Heard screams. Felt Milos's hands tight around my arms, shaking me. I heard his voice telling me that the Romans had come, they had found us, and this was the only way. I couldn't run, they would track my magic and hunt me down, trapping me and piercing me with their many spears. This was the only way.
I smelled the acrid stench of burning flesh and felt the sharp, white hot pain as he pressed the red iron against my heel, my ankle, my calf. Felt the gut-wrenching agony as my connection to the earth snapped. Heard Milos's voice as he held me, promising, swearing that we would find a way to renew the connection. If we could only survive, these Romans would pass from the world like leaves in autumn, and we would find a way.
A soft tickle on my arm snapped me back to reality. Vili, my cat, was licking my arm. I was still sitting on the floor in my apartment. In Canada, not in Slovakia. I let out a deep sigh and scratched Vili behind the ears.
"Thank you, cara" I whispered hoarsely. She rubbed her sinewy gray body against my leg, purring loudly.
Milos had been right, I thought with a rueful kind of satisfaction. After nearly fifteen hundred years, I had found a way. Only he was not here to see it with me. I sighed shakily, feeling suddenly very tired. Vili mewed softly, looking up at me with her deep orange eyes. "Alright," I said with a small laugh, "Let's get you fed."
I lifted myself from the floor and dropped the books on my futon. Opened the cupboard, pulled out Vili's food. Found her bowl, filled it. The familiar motions calmed me somewhat, anchored me to the present. When she was settled at her dish beside the futon, I pulled off my jacket and sat down, opening the first book and bending the pages back hard to break the spine.
And then I read. I read quickly, skipping past the narration and humour, though both were excellent. I wanted content, information. Siodhachan O'Sullivan, ancient druid, was alive and well and living in Arizona. He had slain Bres and Oengus Og, which I considered to be no great loss to anyone. He had many friends, I noted, many ways in which he could be reached, but the best bet seemed to be the firm of Magnusson and Hauk, though I learned that Magnusson was now dead and Hauk was the alpha of the Tempe pack. The Morrigan was dead. Brigit was still first among the fae, but at great cost. O'Sullivan seemed a pretentious sort, though I felt my gut twist as I read that he had trained an apprentice and bound her to the earth, and found his old arch druid and brought him back to the world. When I read of the small grove he had formed, though they numbered only three, I was unable to stop the tears from flowing down my face.
It was three in the morning. Vili had curled herself up in my lap as I stared at the wall. I had to find this man. I suspected that the names in the novel were aliases, but I needed to start somewhere. There was no way in seven hells that, after waiting for so long and giving up all hope, that I could let go of this small ray of hope that had dropped into my life.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Mac's number. "Aylish?" I heard his sleepy voice down the line, "Whassa matter? What time is it?"
"Sorry Mac, it's late. I just needed to let you know that I have to quit the bar."
"You what?" he sounded fully awake now.
"I need to quit. There's been a family emergency, I need to get to the states as soon as possible. I don't know when I'll be back." It was mostly the truth, I thought. I didn't know when I'd be back.
"Um, okay," Mac sounded unconvinced, "Is everything okay? You need help with anything?"
"I didn't want to ask, but could you come pike Vili up tomorrow and let her stay at your house for a bit?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure. Listen, Aylish, you sure you're alright? You sound…I don't know, weird."
"Come on, Mac, you know I've always been weird," I said with a light tone I didn't feel.
"Yeah, you're right." I could hear the smile in his voice, "I'll stop by tomorrow and take Vili on vacation. You take care of yourself, alright?"
"Alright."
"And when you get back to town, let me know, I'll need my bartender back."
"Thanks Mac, that's awful sweet of you."
"Bye."
I hung up. Then I called Air Canada and booked myself in on the next flight to Arizona.








