The Iron Druid Chronicles 6-Book Bundle by Kevin Hearne
A Druid’s animal forms are chosen not by the Druid but rather by Gaia. During the process of the binding, Gaia gradually gets to know the Druid and determines for herself which forms would be most suitable. The first band at the very top of the biceps is always the human shape—necessary so that we can shift back to human form. Below that, the Druid gets a hoofed animal, a land-based predator, a flying form, and an aquatic form. Gaia doesn’t say ahead of time what the forms will be, so we both had to wait for the tattoos to take shape before we could tell what Granuaile could shift to.
She asked for updates about every three minutes once I began the second band on her arm.
“Can you tell what it is yet?” she asked.
“No, sorry.”
“How about now?”
“Not yet. A little anxious, are we?”
“Maybe a little. Can’t you at least guess?”
“You’ll have hooves.”
“I hate you.”
I smiled wryly. “No, you don’t.”
“No, you’re right.”
Gradually it became clear, the knots resolving into a shape. “It looks like it’s a horse,” I said.
“A horse! What kind? An Appaloosa? An Arabian?”
“A fast one.”
“Probably a red one. Chestnut coat, you know. Super gorgeous.”
“Without doubt,” I said, and continued my work as Granuaile’s eyes lost focus and she dreamed of running faster than she ever could as a human.
The next day began her predator stripe. It was a particularly dark one, requiring lots of ink and time. “I’m not sure what this is yet, but it’s going to be a dark coat,” I said, and that kept her guessing for the rest of the day. It wasn’t until the day after that I could discern with any certainty what the creature represented.
“Huh. It’s a black cat,” I said.
“A black cat?” Mild outrage colored her tone.
“A big one. Not a kitty cat. Won’t know if you’re a leopard or a jaguar until you shift.”
“Oh! That’s better, then.”
“I’ll say. It’s pretty badass.”
“What about a panther?”
“Black panthers are really black leopards. They’re not a different species. It’s just a recessive gene for melanism and a bizarre reluctance on the part of human beings to say the words black leopard.”
“Hmm. What an interesting choice.”
“Gaia wants you to be dangerous in the dark, I suppose. Your flying tattoo will probably leave room for guessing as well. It’s tough to differentiate species from these stylized knots.”
“I’m not going to be a mosquito or something like that, am I?”
“No. Druids are usually one of the larger birds. Gaia never puts you very far down the food chain.”
Once her flying stripe was finished, I could tell Granuaile would be a raptor of some kind, but whether hawk or falcon or eagle I did not know. She wasn’t going to be an owl like me.
Granuaile’s aquatic form was probably her weakest; it was a sea lion, and while she would be desperately cute, she wouldn’t have the manual dexterity I had as a sea otter. She’d be a far better swimmer, however.
It took another week and a half to finish her forearm, which would allow her to shift planes, and the circle on the back of her hand, which would give her control over her own healing. On the last day in mid-afternoon, she sat up to watch me complete the circle, her hand in mine, doing her best to hold back any noises that would betray how thrilled she was. I was pretty thrilled too; I’d healed fully by then and looked like my old self, with the exception of two months’ beard growth.
When I inked the final bit and Gaia’s glow faded from my sight and from hers, she looked at me expectantly, beaming with excitement.
“Congratulations, Granuaile MacTiernan,” I said. “You are the first new Druid on this earth in more than a thousand years.” I grinned at her, relieved that it was finally over, and she laughed with wonder and a good measure of her own relief.
I laughed with her and then watched as a strange demolition took place on her expression, as if someone had struck out the supports of the scaffolding holding up her smile. Her lower lip trembled and she sniffled. “I can’t believe it’s finally done,” she said, examining the back of her right hand and wiping away tears with the heel of her left. “Twelve long years.”
“Oh, nonsense. They flew by!” I said.
“Yeah, whatever.” She sniffed one final time and wiped her cheeks free of tears. Her grin returned, but this time it was mischievous. “So this means you’re not my sensei anymore?”
“That’s what it means.”
“Right. Well, I’ve waited long enough.” She grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me to her mouth. “Come here.”
I went there.
Chapter 21
Oberon, please. This is not the time.
It’s not meant to mimic dogs barking! It’s mocking seventies’ funk music heard in pornographic videos, specifically the bass line. May we have some privacy, please?
Well, just don’t stare at us! I didn’t sit and watch and make comments while you were with Fifi, did I, talking about givin’ the dog a bone and such?
Chapter 22
We did stop eventually, but only because Oberon threatened to chew off his leg as the sun set for the third time since we’d begun.
Now, hold on! First, you didn’t have to watch, because I specifically suggested that you not do so, and, second, it wasn’t grody. It was the stuff Al Green sings about.
No, Oberon, that was beauty.
Nothing could ruin my mood right then, so I laughed and admitted he had a point.
How about a hunt, Oberon? Would that suit you?
My hound put his nose in the air.
Anything you want. Anywhere you want. Granuaile needs to practice shifting planes and shifting shapes.
All right. Tanzania, here we come!
While Granuaile was now a full Druid, she still needed some coaching and practice on what had been theory until this point. She’d memorized the words and the forms of the knotwork admirably, but because we’d been so … busy lately, she had yet to cast anything.
We thanked Pyrenees for his hospitality and help before we shifted to eastern Africa. Granuaile and I both placed our hands on a tethered tree, and I showed her amongst the myriad trees where to shift in Tír na nÓg.
“You go first. We’ll be right behind you.”
“What if I get lost?”
“You won’t. I’m going to follow wherever you go.”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and shifted.
Yep. Very soon.
Aww, thanks, Oberon—
That’s … very generous of you.
Oberon’s nose lifted in the air again, but not for the display of any attitude. His nostrils flared.
I frowned at my hound. Vampires?
All directions?
So they would be French vampires. Perhaps the vampires from the Iberian Peninsula wouldn’t be far behind. After my conversation with Theophilus, I could well imagine that he’d given the command worldwide to hunt us—I certainly hadn’t ceased to train my apprentice, so I must assume that his promised pogrom had begun and the world’s vampires were sniffing us out.
It probably wouldn’t be all that difficult to find me, provided I stayed in one place; my ancient blood smelled different from that of modern humans, and if they’d been told by their mysterious Fae connection that I was binding Granuaile to the earth, they’d know to search the wild places in Europe.
I had no desire to remain and take on an unknown number of vampires, so I shifted to Tír na nÓg and found a relieved Granuaile waiting for us. She did a couple of pogo jumps in the dark. “I did it!”
“Indeed. And now let’s go to Tanzania. Lead the way again.”
We spent some time finding an appropriate place to shift. We chose some acacia woodlands in Lake Manyara National Park, and then we went ahead as before, with Granuaile going first.
Soon. I need to think about it a little bit. She has enough to worry about at the moment.
When we reached Tanzania, which was humid and warm and full of animals eating one another, we both had our night vision on. Granuaile was giddy.
“Can I shape-shift now?”
“Wait a moment. Bind with Oberon first.”
“Oh! Yeah. Duh! I’m sorry, Oberon, I’m just so excited.”
“He understands,” I told her. “Okay. So look at the connection between Oberon and me in the magical spectrum. You need to bind yourself to him in the same way so that you can hear his thoughts and vice versa.”
“Will you be able to hear my thoughts too?”
“No. The only person I know capable of human telepathy is the Morrigan, and she doesn’t accomplish it through traditional bindings.”
“What if we’re both in animal form?” Granuaile asked. “Do we use Oberon as a go-between to speak to each other?”
“I suppose we could.”
“But we should probably try to keep that to a minimum,” I added.
Granuaile nodded. “Poor dog would probably go nuts.”
Hey!
Do not take advantage of her generous nature!
Granuaile gave a tiny gasp and her eyes widened. “I heard that! Or the end of it. Why would you want him to stop being a hound?”
“Hi, Oberon! It’s so nice to finally hear your voice! Is ‘Clever Girl’ your name for me?”
“He’s been calling you that ever since that business with the skinwalkers. Watch out. He’s buttering you up for something.”
“Is that so?” Her eyebrows asked a question of my hound.
“And tonight you’re hungry for really tiny antelopes.”
“Okay. I’ve never hunted before, so you’ll need to give me some tips and forgive me if I screw up, all right?”
“Good. Because my predator form is a giant black cat.”
“It wasn’t my choice, Oberon!” Granuaile said. “Gaia chose my predator form. If it had been my choice, I would have been a wolfhound like you and Atticus.”
That’s true, buddy, I said privately. She didn’t have any say in her animal forms. Besides, what does it matter? She’s Granuaile no matter what shape she’s in.
“What is?” Granuaile asked.
“Oh. That’s true. Atticus, maybe we should speak aloud to Oberon whenever we can so we don’t have to always ask him for clarification when he answers?”
“Yep. Good idea. I’m used to keeping a lid on it, so it will take me some time to break the habit.”
Granuaile and I disrobed and placed our clothes near the tethered tree. We asked the earth to part and conceal our weapons for us.
“One more thing before you shift,” I said. “I have to fix your necklace.”
“Oh.” Granuaile raised her hand to the cold iron amulet dangling at her throat. “Good call. I would have garroted myself.”
“Would you mind terribly if I did this for you? Fix it so that it changes sizes with your shape? I could teach you how, but it would take a while.”
“No, go ahead,” she said.
“You’ll have to shift to every form to do it properly, and I know you’ve been dying to anyway.” I moved around her and unfastened her necklace, noting as I did so how much slack and extra chain there was. Then I stepped away with it in my hand. “So let’s take it from the top. Horse first. Go.”
Granuaile spoke the words that would bind her spirit to the form of the horse indelibly tattooed on her arm. She shifted to a beautiful copper-colored chestnut, sometimes called sorrel, with her mane slightly lighter than her coat. Her nostrils flared and she sneezed. I told her what she looked like as I adjusted the necklace around her neck and memorized the size and position. She whinnied and stamped on the ground with her hooves, one leg at a time, no doubt marveling that she had four of them. I crafted the first part of the binding that would allow the necklace to shrink back to human size when she shifted.
“Okay, shift back to human. I know you want to run, but this isn’t the best place to do it. There are leopards in the trees here and other hungry things.”
Granuaile snorted and shifted back to human form. “Atticus, that was amazing! Four legs! Hooves! Incredible!”
“I know. Check your necklace.”
She looked down and saw that the necklace was fastened around her neck exactly as it had been before.
“You rock.”
I unfastened the necklace again. “Okay, kitty form.”
Granuaile shifted and became a sleek black jaguar. I could tell by the shorter, thicker tail and the wider head. She sneezed a couple of times here too.
“Congratulations. You’re a jaguar.”
Granuaile’s joy at this news elicited an extremely loud roar, startling Oberon and me and the surrounding woods into silence.
Oberon said,
Granuaile lowered her ears and managed to convey a sense of regret. I took measurements for her necklace and had her shift back to human.
“Sorry, Oberon,” she said as soon as she got her voice back. “It’s Helen Reddy’s fault. It was the whole ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ thing.”
“All right,” I said, retrieving the necklace. “Let’s see what kind of bird you are. Fly a bit if you want, but don’t keep us waiting long.”
Granuaile shifted and I whooped. “You’re a peregrine falcon! Fastest bird alive! Fly! Be free!”
With a screech of victory, Granuaile took wing; for a moment it was a majestic scene out of Animal Planet, and then it wasn’t, as she promptly crashed after an awkward banking maneuver. She tried again, crashed again,
“Oww. Atticus, I don’t feel so good inside.”
“It’s because you’ve been shifting back and forth so quickly. When you thumb your nose at the laws of physics like you’ve been doing, the universe tends to get you back through biology.”
“I’m not permanently damaging my spleen or anything, am I?”
“Nope. It’ll fade. It’s just a pain you can’t heal or suppress. How was your flight?”
“So awesome. The third one, anyway. I can tell I’m going to enjoy that form a lot.”
“I’m sure you will. Last one: sea lion.”
She shifted and clapped her flippers together. Oberon chuffed at her, and I chuckled as I adjusted her necklace.
“Okay, now hold still in this form awhile. I’m going to make all the forms and sizes recursive so that you can shift directly from horse to falcon or jaguar to sea lion, and the necklace will change properly along with it.” A few minutes and it was done. “Okay, shift to jaguar from this form and we’ll hunt.”
Granuaile shifted to her jaguar form and I shifted to a wolfhound. We both sneezed. My coat was reddish with a white stripe down my right front leg where my tattoos were; I looked like a slightly different dog, since I was in truth one of the old warhounds of the Irish that eventually were bred to become the deerhounds and wolfhounds of today. It made no difference to Oberon, though; to him I was a wolfhound, part of his pack.