Oberon understood this. It was to be a long, lonely time for him. And he also understood that, should it be warranted, he would snap us out of it, whether Granuaile was completely bound or not.
I hadn’t told Granuaile what would happen when I first pierced her sole with the thorn and the consciousness of Gaia rushed in. There were no words to prepare someone for that. So I simply jabbed her where Gaia said I should, then held on as she spasmed, screamed, and passed out.
Chapter 9
Druids are trained to multitask and maximize their mental capacity. They’re encouraged both to think big thoughts and think several different ones at the same time. But no one’s mind is capable of keeping up with Gaia’s. A single human brain cannot contain the mind of the world. That’s why Granuaile shut down when flooded with the consciousness of Gaia. I had done the same thing. Everyone does. But no one ever forgets the scope of the power there, the breadth of the love or the depth of the pain glimpsed in the second before oblivion saved them from insanity.
With Granuaile unconscious, I could continue to tattoo the sole of her foot, which would have otherwise been quite problematic. The number of nerves there makes it difficult to proceed—reflexes are tough to work around.
There were no designs marked on Granuaile’s foot; the shape of Gaia’s binding came directly from her, which I saw in the magical spectrum as a green overlay on Granuaile’s skin. The pattern looked like a Celtic wreath; it was similar to the loop on the back of my hand, except there was no triskele design in the center of it. This was an inhibitor loop, a sort of filter that would allow Granuaile to feel Gaia’s presence and speak with her while remaining conscious. Until the loop was completed, she wouldn’t wake up. Ever. It was the one portion of the ritual that absolutely could not be interrupted, so I worked steadily for five straight hours until it was finished. I checked it carefully and then asked Gaia if it looked satisfactory.
Though Granuaile’s foot was still bloody and raw, I set it down flat against the earth of the cave. She gasped and sat up, her eyes wide.
Granuaile gaped and looked panicked.
“Speak as you would to an elemental,” I told her. “Your emotions and thoughts will make sense to her.”
Tears sprang out of Granuaile’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. I knew precisely how she felt, and my vision blurred as my own eyes filled with tears.
“Thank you, Atticus,” she said. “It was worth the wait. I would have waited a hundred years for this.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied, “but you may have thanked me too soon. There’s no more get-out-of-pain-free cards after this. You’ll feel every stab from now on.”
“It’s okay,” she said, lying down again and nodding. “It’s totally okay. I know what it’s for, and it’s worth it.”
“All right,” I said. “Do you want to continue or wait a few minutes?”
“Continue,” she said.
“Let me know when you want a break, then.”
She didn’t need many breaks. She handled it much better than I had, in fact, though I neglected to mention it. The bit around the ankle was dodgy—it’s a sensitive area—but we proceeded smoothly through days and weeks until we reached mid-thigh. The borders on either side of the entire band allowed her to draw on the earth’s magic; this was a fail-safe in case any part of the tattoo was damaged, but it also meant any part of her right side could draw if she was wearing shoes. The knots on the inside of the band, meanwhile, changed as they rose, allowing her to perform different bindings. The first ones allowed her to bind her sight to the magical spectrum and to cast night vision. Each of these contained riders, like those in contracts, that allowed her to cast bindings on others besides herself.
After that came the knots that allowed her to supplement her own energy with that of the earth, so she could increase her strength and speed as well as run or fight for long periods of time without tiring. These bindings could also be cast on other people.
I was about to begin the next sequence when Oberon’s insistent voice broke through my trance.
"Atticus? Atticus, I’m really sorry, but I think we have a problem. This isn’t normal. Someone’s out here with us."
Chapter 10
Unwilling to pull myself entirely out of the trance, I paused, dropped the thorn, and spoke to him. How do you know?
"Well, there’s a freshly butchered T-bone here. Expertly carved, some delicious marbling in the meat, looks like corn-fed Angus. And you just don’t see those dropped casually on the ground in the Olympian wilderness. Especially on my patrol route. And it can’t have been here for long, or some other animal would have already snarfed it. So that means—"
Somebody’s out there. You’re right. Damn it five thousand ways. Judging by where I am in the tattoos, it’s only been about three weeks. And you know you shouldn’t eat that meat, right?
"Hey, I’ve seen my share of heist movies. They always poison the dog. And you took great pleasure in pointing that out, I might add."
It was all training for this particular moment, see? You’re alive instead of dead like those dogs in the movies.
"Thanks, Atticus. What should I do?"
Can you see any tracks? Smell anything besides the meat?
"No, and that has me worried. What if my nose is turning human?"
It’s not turning human. You can still smell the meat.
"Yeah, and it smells delicious."
Don’t touch it, Oberon. Don’t even lick it. It’s poisoned for sure. Look, I’m going to come out there and see if I can spot any clues. Stay there, keep a sharp ear and nose out, and let me know if you sense anything.
"Okay."
And stop staring at the meat. Look around for who put it there.
"Aw! Wait! How did you know?"
Canine Psychology 101. Seriously, don’t look at it. Look for the dastardly villain.
"Gah! It’s so hard to tear my gaze free! It must have a tractor beam!"
Oberon. It’s dead meat. You are stronger than other dogs. Look away.
"I can’t! It’s got me! Atticus, it’s got me!"
Oberon! Watch out for the cows raining down from the sky!
"Where? Oh. You tricked me!"
Don’t look back at the meat! Look around for who might have dropped it.
"Whew. Okay. That was scary. Hurry up, I’m creeped out now."
I’ll be there as soon as I can.
I made apologies to Gaia and Granuaile. Anybody with the heart to poison a dog would have the heart to do us harm as well, and we couldn’t ignore it.
“Atticus? What’s going on?”
“Someone’s out there. They dropped a T-bone in Oberon’s path, and it’s a good bet that it’s poisoned. We need to take care of this before we continue. Find your knives and strap them on.”
“We can continue? We will continue? I’m just checking,” she said as she found her knife holsters and attached them to her belt.
“Yes to both. You’re going to cast your first magic before I go.” I tossed aside my backpack, looking for Moralltach. It was still where I’d stashed it, and I slung the scabbard on the strap over my back.
“I can do that without the binding being complete?”
“Yeah. Everything I’ve done so far is complete in itself. The inhibitor loop on the bottom of your foot worked immediately. Same for these other bits.” I fetched her staff and returned to where she was sitting. Granuaile seemed disoriented by the sudden change in plans—and perhaps a bit dizzy, because her leg was still swollen and oozing blood. I offered her a hand up and she took it. Pulling her to her feet, I said, “Cast the binding for magical sight.”
“Okay, but how?”
“What do you mean, how? Did you forget the words? I made you do all those drills for nothing?”
“No, but …”
“Say the words, see the knots, and be the hand that ties them. The power is there now.”
Granuaile didn’t have any charms to cast bindings via mental commands. She’d have to speak everything until she could craft her own charms. And so she began, in a halting voice, disbelief in her eyes that she could make this happen. I triggered my charm so I could watch it: When she finished the final phrase that energized the binding and drew power from the earth, I saw the white glow of magic flow up from the cave floor and illuminate her tattoos underneath the skin, and I heard her gasp as her eyes saw much more than they were used to seeing. She put out her hands, suddenly unbalanced. Magical vertigo—sensory overload.
“Sensei? This isn’t … oh, shit.”
I stepped closer to make sure she didn’t fall. “Search for the outlines of things.”
“This isn’t like looking through your eyes. It’s too much.”
“I know. You need to ignore the gossamer threads of all the bindings around you. If it’s below your feet, block it out; you don’t need to see all the bindings there. You have to train yourself to ignore the sensory input of these peripheral bindings, the way freeway drivers ignore billboards and speed limits and so on. You understand?”
“Uh … yeah? I think? Whoa.”
“When you’re driving, you don’t focus on everything at once, but you have peripheral awareness of it, right? You focus on what you need to at any given moment, whether it’s the car in front of you, the jackass in the lifted truck passing you, or the sirens behind you, whatever. Everything exists, everything is there, but you don’t have to see it all at once. Does that help? You don’t have to see all the bindings you’re seeing right now. Just focus on the outlines of the physical stuff you saw before.”
“Yeah, well, the bushes don’t give me much of an outline, sensei, because they’re f**king bushy.”
“Here,” I said, thrusting her staff into her hands. “That should be a simple enough shape to focus on.”
“No, because I see the oil from my fingers and the wood cells and—what is that thing? Is it some sort of bug larvae living in my staff?”
“Bring it up close to your eyes. Focus on the shape. There’s a big censor bar across your vision. That’s all you see, only the outline.”
“Oh. Wait, that helped.”
“Good. Now keep your vision in that mode, if you will, when you lower the staff. See outlines instead of everything.”
She slowly lowered the staff and sighed in relief when the mass of bindings didn’t blind her with light.
“Okay,” she said, putting one end of the staff on the ground and smiling at me. “This is just a little bit awesome. I’ve cast my first Druidic binding.”
“Congratulations. I need you to cast two more before I can leave.”
The smile disappeared. “Leave?”
“To check on Oberon, remember? We’re not alone.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Cast the bindings to increase your strength and speed. I don’t care which one you do first.”
"Atticus, it’s super-spooky here. All the animals are quiet."
Coming soon, buddy. Almost ready.
I cast the same two bindings on myself. She cast speed first, and once she was done she grinned. “I so want to spar with you now.”
I was so proud of her and I wanted to hug her rather than spar, but then I’d have to start thinking about baseball, and this wasn’t a good time for that.
“Keep that in mind. If I move quickly now, does that mess up your vision?”
“No, I can still see the outlines. I can see the surface features, too, without getting overwhelmed. It’s like everything has this soft glow around it, and if I don’t focus on the glow I’ll be fine.”
“Excellent. That’s exactly what you want. Now, I don’t know who’s out there. It might be a magic user. When I come back, I should look like this. If you see me plus something else—two different outlines, in other words—it’s not me. It’s something else, casting a glamour. Whack him. Or her. Or it.”
“So that’s why you want me to have magical vision on—”
“For positive ID. Right. Be back as soon as I can. Vigilance!”
Casting camouflage on myself, I eased out of the cave and past the thornbushes to descend to the stream.
Which way from the cave, Oberon?
"West. I’m just south of the stream, where the watering hole is."
The watering hole was the outer limit of the range where I could still hear him in my mind. I began to mince his way, trying to keep quiet and scan the area for movement. And you haven’t seen anything in all this time?
"Nope."
You’re not staring at the meat again, are you?
"No, I swear. I’m not letting that tractor beam get hold of me again."
And you haven’t heard or smelled anything?
"No. The fact that I’m not hearing anything is a bad sign."
Yes. Okay, I’m on my way, trying to move quickly but also quietly. I’m having the bushes move apart for me where necessary. I’m in camouflage.
I didn’t hear anything either, except for the soft sounds of my own footfalls on the ground. Oberon was right. This was unnaturally quiet. Five minutes’ determined march through the growth brought me to the watering hole. Nothing moved except for the water in the stream.
Walking south from there, it was less than a minute before I came upon Oberon and the steak.
"Atticus, is that you? I hear something coming."
Yes. It’s me. I dissolved my camouflage so he could see me. Oberon’s tail wagged.