Free Hammered [3] by Kevin Hearne

was a Druid that slew theNorns and his favorite horsie, he’ll make noise around Tír na nÓg and then they’ll find me quickly, because everyone there knows where I am now. I have to move.”
    “Of course you do, but”—her face clouded—“that means I have to move too.”
    “Right.” I nodded. “And change your name. And cut off all contact with your family and friends to protect them. Unless you
like
having a family and friends. Then you should give up this dream of being a Druid and live happily ever after.”
    Granuaile slammed her fork down. “Damn it, sensei, I’m not giving that up, I told you!”
    “How will your loved ones take this, Granuaile? Look at it from their perspective for a moment. To them it’s going to look like I’ve kidnapped you or that you’ve joined a cult.”
    “Well … it kind of
is
a cult, isn’t it?” she joked.
    I chuckled. “I suppose. A very tiny one—here we all are. You can shave your head if you like for verisimilitude.”
    Granuaile’s jaw dropped. “I thought you liked my hair.”
    Oh, damn. She’d noticed. There’s no winning this, change the subject.…
    “You never answered my question. Aren’t your parents going to worry? You won’t be able to contact them often, if at all.”
    She shrugged and puffed a soft dismissal past her lips. “I don’t talk to them much as it is. They’re divorced. Dad is always on a dig somewhere in the cradle of civilization, and Mom is busy raising her new family in bloody
Kansas.”
The way she spat out
Kansas
led me to believe she did not consider it the cradle of civilization. “I let them know I wanted my independence early on and they gave it to me.”
    “They seem to have set you up well,” I remarked, flicking my eyes around.
    “Oh, yeah. How does a barmaid afford a condo like this, right? Well, it’s paid for by dinosaurs. Mom’s new husband is an oily oil man. So greasy he looks like he sleeps in a jar of Vaseline. He has one clump of hair that he’s grown really long, and he combs it over pathetically to try to cover up his shiny bald head. I despise him and he loathes me. When I said I wanted to attend ASU, he was only too happy to pay all the bills so long as I agreed to stay out here.”
    I sighed and closed my eyes. Clearly she wasn’t going to miss much of her old life. I’d gone and caught myself an ideal candidate for Druidry. Still, it was best to be thorough, and I still had a couple of disincentives to offer her.
    “Granuaile. Did I ever tell you what happened to my last apprentice?”
    “No, but I think you’re probably going to tell me he died horribly.”
    “Tragically, yes. Cut down by Moors in the kingdom of Galicia in 997. He was only a couple months away from getting his tattoos and becoming a full Druid. He was utterly vulnerable, you see. Utterly defenseless. And that’s what you’re going to be for twelve more years. There aren’t many shortcuts we can take. This isn’t like the movies where you can just feel the Force or learn everything you need to know in a three-minute montage, or those novels where the young hero masters advanced swordplay in a couple of months of lessons on the trail. And all that time you’ll be a target in a way I never was, in a way Cíbran never was.”
    “Cíbran was your apprentice?”
    “Yes. I trained him in secret. The locals all thought I was a staunch Christian, the rock of the neighborhood, and never suspected for a moment what I truly was. And back when I was in training, before Christianity, it was perfectly safe to be a Druid. Best possible thing thatcould happen to a lad, in fact. But you’re not in that situation. I’m currently a high-value target, and I’m going to be the gods’ most wanted after this next trip to Asgard, no matter how it turns out. If things don’t go well, you’re almost certainly going down with me. You could be throwing away your whole life.”
    Granuaile pressed her lips together and smiled tightly.