Darkthunder's Way by Tom Deitz Read Free Book Online

close again. “If it is, just go ahead and take me. I’m too tired to care.”
    “Would that be so bad?” The Faery’s voice was suddenly serious.
    “You’ve heard my answer to that. I’ve had one chance already, and turned it down.”
    “You’ll die, you know, eventually.”
    A shrug. “It’s what we’re designed for.”
    “I’ll miss you.”
    “Me too,” David grunted.
    A long pause, then: “I’m sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “For the pain I cost you when first we met: most particularly for wounding your kinsman. I…I did not know you then, nor any Mortals. My year as a lizard gave me a great deal of time to reflect.”
    David opened his eyes but did not turn his head to look at him, nor immediately reply. Jesus, he’d almost forgotten that: how Fionchadd had once shot Uncle Dale with an arrow that had caused him to have a stroke, thereby starting the whole chain of events that had brought him to his present pass. And here he was hanging out with the guy like they were best friends or something. He wondered for a moment if Fionchadd had somehow cast a glamour on him to make him forget, but rejected the notion. They’d both grown up a lot in the year since that had happened. And wasn’t forgiveness part of growing up? Fionchadd had been acting in a perfectly acceptable way for his kind and culture at the time; for most Sidhe considered mortals as little more than animals. But the Faery had changed now, he could tell; and wasn’t that change partly David’s own doing? Besides, it was partly through David’s actions that Fionchadd’s father had died, and the Faery had evidently forgiven him for that as well. Could he afford to do any less? Fionchadd had also been acting out of family loyalty, not spite, which was a thing David certainly understood. Lord, what a complicated mess!
    “I will understand if you do not wish my further company,” Fionchadd said finally.
    David sat up and looked at him. “Oh gee, Finno, I— Shit! I mean, so much has changed since then. I guess if I wanted to I could get really pissed, but…well, it’s like you were a different person then. It was a bad thing from my point of view, but your reasons were honorable—to you.”
    “I am forgiven then?”
    “If I am. Now—I reckon I’d best be movin’. Think I’ll grab a swim down at Lookout Rock and get on home—if I can make it that far without fallin’ over.”
    “May I join you?”
    David flopped an arm across the Faery’s shoulders. “If you’ll show me the way out of this confounded bogus Stonehenge.”
    *
    David had never seen a sight as welcome as the pool on Lookout Rock when Fionchadd finally got him there. The journey hadn’t been difficult, really: a jog down the Track, then off by a certain silver-leafed tree, and suddenly they were in the middle of the logging road a mile or so above the turnoff. From there it would normally have been a quick, painless trek to the rocky outcrop whose precipitous overlook gave the place its name.
    But he was not normally this tired.
    He stood at the water’s edge now, the forest a semicircle behind him, the sheer cliffs diving straight down a hundred feet away to his right to reveal a vista of purpling mountains, and just up ahead, a steep, black slab down which a waterfall slid into a pool perhaps fifteen yards across and four feet deep at the deepest. He stepped closer. A tickle of spray touched his face, and he could smell the odors of wet leaves, pines, and sun-baked rocks.
    Lordy Jesus, he was bushed. Idly he wondered how he would explain that fact to his father. Usually when he got back from a run he was mildly winded and a bit flushed. Sweaty. But now he had almost no energy at all except what was trickling into him from the wine Fionchadd had given him, and all that was doing was making him giddy.
    “This place has Power,” the Faery noted from beside him.
    David giggled wearily. “I always said that, back before I knew.”
    “It has Power anyway.