by Emmett Swan
With college classes starting in the fall, she had expected to spend one more summer at home working with Against Drunk Boating. She was their best fundraiser, driven and relentless. Against Drunk Boating was such a good cause, and success with their fundraising campaign had become the main goal of her life since Curtis died. It had become even more important, in some ways, than his death. If she could save just a few lives, it was worth all the time and effort she put into it. Maybe she was a little obsessive about it, but it made her feel better.
She knew her parents had concerns. She remembered her mother’s pained expression as she told her and Riley about the trip. And her dad, always so formal, distorting his face unnaturally as he justified their actions. The tickets had already been purchased, he said. Molly and Emily were coming to Louisville, and she and Riley would spend the summer at Connaree Manor. She needed to get away from all the things that reminded her of Curtis, he said, and she should be grateful for the opportunity to spend the summer in Europe.
She felt like defying them. She almost did. But Riley had to go too, and he would have been upset with her for making him go by himself. Besides, her parents were paying for her college tuition. She would just have to go. She didn’t want to, but she didn’t really have a choice.
She sat on the bed again and studied Curtis’s picture. A familiar feeling of regret washed over her. She felt a pang of shame and remorse squeezing her chest. How did this happen? The question always went unanswered.
Oh, why hadn’t she reacted differently?
She had been so into Curtis. He made her feel passionate, mature, and a little defiant. He was unlike anyone she had ever dated. There was something about him, something indefinable. She had tried to write about it in a poem once, but the feeling eluded written description. It was chemistry. A flutter when she saw him. A warming inside when he called and his picture came up on her phone.
Light brown unkempt hair always fell across his expressive eyebrows. Hazel eyes with long, thick eyelashes. Amanda and Sylvia were so envious of his eyelashes—so full and noticeable. His nose was prominent, but not unattractively so; it balanced his face nicely. And his skin was smooth and tanned.
Her eyes stung, and she blinked. Jessica slowly traced the outline of Curtis’s face, following the familiar contours with her black manicured nail. She let her finger mechanically trail off the edge of the frame, and her hand fell into her lap with a dull thud. The sound matched her grief. A dull thud, throbbing incessantly.
As they often did, her thoughts returned to that spring day on the lake. The weather was beautiful for April. Although, in retrospect, the water was choppy and a little rough for skiing. She should have known better. How many times had she realized that since?
Doug and Curtis had brought some beer. Jessica wasn’t much on drinking, but she sipped on one anyway. She should have paid more attention to how many Curtis and Doug drank.
They rode leisurely around the lake and decided to go to a cove and throw out an anchor for lunch. After a few sandwiches, they all jumped into the water, using noodles to stay comfortably afloat. They bobbed around, talking, laughing, splashing—not a care in the world. She now realized how easily she took those innocent days for granted. She felt burdened now. Heavy.
Eager for a distraction, she wandered over to a dormer window to look out. There was a cushioned bench positioned under the windowsill, and Jessica sat on it and opened the sash, scanning the fields and pastures painted with amber sunshine as the sun neared the horizon. She could hear a lonely dog barking in the distance. Right outside her window was a sprawling tree with limbs almost touching the window panes. A chorus of frogs could be heard croaking nearby. The scent of earth, freshly washed from the recent rain, seeped into the room.
Gazing a little ways into the distance she could see an old wooden bridge that crossed a creek about a half-mile away. The creek’s path followed a dark strip of green and trees until it disappeared behind a headland. She wondered how far Uncle Basil’s property extended. The whole area around them invited exploration and promised adventure.
It was an enchanting place, even if it was forced on her.
Riley tapped softly at her door and entered the room. He gave her a forced smile and sat beside her on the window bench.
“I guess you know by now,” he said, his tone serious.
“That there’s no signal? Yeah, I know.”
Riley looked out the window. “It’s going to be a long summer.”
“I already miss not talking to Sylvia,” said Jessica. “But I guess we’ll get used to it. I mean, people got on just fine without smartphones for centuries.”
“They wrote letters in those days. By hand. On paper. You gonna do that?”
Jessica shrugged. “I guess so. That’s how I write my poems. Aren’t you going to write Dylan?”
He looked at his shoes and shook his head. “I guess I’ll have to. He was pretty pissed about me leaving. We would’ve had a lot of fun this summer, hanging out.”
He pulled out a large coin and fingered it.
“What’s that?” asked Jessica.
“A silver dollar. Dylan gave it to me just as I was leaving. No reason.”
Jessica noticed a tear forming in Riley’s eye.
“How’s your room?” she asked, trying to distract him from his sad thoughts.
“It’s pretty much like this one,” he said, glancing around Jessica’s domain. “Lots of frilly things and dumb girl pictures. There’s a One Direction poster on the wall.”
“I think this is a pretty room,” said Jessica. “Though it does have an old-fashioned vibe to it. I mean, who has lace curtains in their window?”
“This is Ireland,” said Riley. “Have you noticed how differently they dress over here? I haven’t seen anyone with a decent fashion sense, except maybe Uncle Basil.”
“Is he and Aunt Noreen like you remember them?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I remember Uncle Basil being tall. And how nice Aunt Noreen was to us when they came to Louisville.”
“I love Aunt Noreen,” said Jessica.
“Was that a shawl she was wearing? Isn’t she too young to wear a shawl?”
“Like you said, this is Ireland.”
A firm knock on the door got their attention.
“Come in,” called out Jessica. Gerald opened the door and took a step into the room. There was no trace of a smile on his face, and his odd-shaped forehead was furrowed.
“Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Please take your seats in ten.” Without waiting for a reply, he bowed slightly and left the room.
“I don’t know about that dude,” said Riley.
“Or the woman either,” added Jessica. “What’s her name? Meeda?”
“It was like we offended them by offering to help.”
Jessica giggled. “But can you believe Uncle Basil and Aunt Noreen have servants?”
“Kinda weird.” Riley looked over his clothes. “Do you think we should change?”
“Don’t have time. Let’s head on down.”
Six
Keeva stood in her private chambers and peered at the glass vial. The tiny bottle contained a pale red fluid that glowed softly. She swished it around and watched the trails of the thick elixir trickle down the sides of the vial as a metallic scent wafted in the air. It didn’t have the rich red color of the mirclair Neasan used, but hopefully it was close enough.
She took a deep breath and tilted the vial, letting a drop fall on the rune that Iragram had instructed her to draw on her forearm. A vortex of pale red color and wind swirled around her. The light faded to black, and a tiny dot of white light appeared before her in the darkness. It rapidly grew until it was bigger than she, forming an oval. Instinctively she went toward the oval and then, without hesitation, stepped through it.
For a moment her feet touched nothing. She had the sensation of falling and then tumbled over sideways onto solid ground. The oval of light vanished, an
d daylight returned. It wasn’t normal but brighter, more intense. Thick grass cushioned her palms as she propped herself up. She rose to her feet and looked around.
She was in a new place, a place she had never been before. As she had hoped, the oval of light was a portal.
Contrary to the mists and dim yellows of Derfaria, clear bright sunshine illuminated this new realm. Everywhere, verdant plant growth filled the land. So much so that Keeva felt overwhelmed by its lush collage of vibrant color. Trees, shrubs, and between it, all deep green fields. Insects buzzed, and the scent of clean soil washed over her nostrils. It was as Neasan had described it. She had been transported to Panagu.
By chance, a few houses stood nearby. Rather than towering toward the sky like the crystal-capped buildings of Derfaria, these structures were squat and sturdy. Thick beams of darkwood framed the walls, many of which had live branches growing from them. Between the beams, brownish-gray bark covered the walls. Weeds and flowers grew from the roofs of the dwellings.
She stood on a small hill, so she had a good view of the surrounding terrain. About a mile away she spotted a large edifice surrounded by a cluster of low-slung homes. It was a sturdy structure, with huge treelike buttresses, brownstone walls, and a grassy roof. To her eye, it was not as elegant or elaborate as King Brecan’s palace, but Keeva suspected it was the residence of a noble person, perhaps Panagu’s king.
She was scanning the nearby woods for a path when she heard a voice behind her and turned to see two children, perhaps brother and sister, peering at her. They both had red hair and stout limbs even though they were quite young. And both wore green and brown garments.
They didn’t seem frightened, but the little girl had a frown on her face.
“Hello,” she said.
“Are you a spirit?” asked the boy. He reached forward to touch Keeva’s arm and watched it pass through the outlines of her skin. Keeva looked at her body and clothes. They were translucent, wispy. As Iragram had warned her, she was barely there.
“Hail, children of Panagu. I am Keeva and I am not a spirit. But I have taken strong medicine that makes me look strange.”
“You’re sick?” asked the little girl. She was the younger of the two, with large green eyes. Her long red hair reached past her shoulders.
“I’m getting better,” she said, smiling. “I’m looking for one named Neasan. Do you know of him?”
“Everyone knows Neasan,” said the little boy. “He lives there.” He pointed to the large structure Keeva had just noticed. Her heart beat with excitement. Her Neasan was close at hand.
“Is that the king’s house?” she asked the children.
The boy and girl nodded.
“And Neasan lives there?”
“He does now,” said the little girl.
Keeva waved farewell and proceeded along a path toward the structure, which meandered through the woods. Along the way, she observed how the visibility of her body shifted as she moved from lighter to darker areas. In her ghostly form, it wasn’t hard for her to avoid detection as long as she was careful. Especially in brighter areas, where there was no shade, her projection was so washed out as to be invisible. But in darker areas, where shadows were present, she could be seen. Just barely, but enough. She would have to take care as she approached the palace gates.
She thought of Neasan’s norl, the green elixir that rendered him invisible, and wondered if this was what it was like. But then she remembered that Neasan, even when made invisible, could still interact with his surroundings. She reached up to grasp a flower growing near the path, but her fingers passed through it. The false mirclair was definitely not like norl. She could observe while in the land of Panagu, but little else.
As she approached the gates, she was relieved to see that it wasn’t guarded and the gates were open, so she had no problem passing through to the inner courtyard. Opposite the gate and across the courtyard stood the king’s palace. Two guards stood at either side of a massive wooden door, but since bright sunlight filled the courtyard, she was able to approach undetected.
She considered how to enter the building. She wouldn’t be able to move the heavy door, even if the guards weren’t present. But perhaps she wouldn’t require one.
To make sure she wasn’t spotted in the shadow of the doorway, she left the main path and walked along a hedge that surrounded the large building. After walking to the other side, she found an opening in the hedge and stepped up to the palace wall, which was made of thick brownstone.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, smiling at her own pun. She moved her hand toward the stone. The wall felt cool and damp, but she was pleased to see her hand pass through the stone.
“I’m little more than a thought,” she said. She took a breath and leaned into the wall. She felt clamminess from head to toe, but her ethereal body passed through without resistance and she found herself in an elaborate, though rustic, reception room. As luck would have it, Neasan was seated on the other side of the room, speaking to a woman who stood beside him. No one else was around.
Again her heart raced with excitement. Without real mirclair, Neasan could not come to her in Derfaria. But with false mirclair they could at least be together. It would not be ideal, but it would be better than giving up on their love. She could buy as much of it as she needed from Iragram. Already, she had requested him to start a new batch.
Keeva decided not to approach Neasan in the company of the woman. She did not know who she was and thought it best to be cautious for now. If she were lucky, the woman would leave first and she could approach Neasan. If Neasan left first she would follow him, though it would be a risky option. The hallways were laced with shadows where she could be seen. And with her tall frame and long, flowing white robes, she certainly stood out.
She eased her body back inside the thick wall, with only her face protruding, and waited. She gazed at Neasan. His strong, stout form was as handsome as ever. His brilliant sparkling eyes, now focused on the woman as he spoke, would soon widen with delight when he realized that she, his beloved Keeva, had come to him.
She studied more carefully the woman who stood over him. She was strikingly beautiful, with brilliant red locks cascading down her back and a rich, red glow to her cheeks. And there was something strange about the way she looked at Neasan. Something disturbing.
Neasan stood and delicately kissed the woman on the mouth. Their arms embraced and they kissed again, this time more passionately.
Keeva felt a wave of nausea crash over her. Her beloved, her first true love, was kissing this woman. That kiss should have been hers.
Flushed with emotion and mute with shock, she watched them break their embrace and begin speaking again. She paid close attention to their words.
“It’s true,” said Neasan, looking intently at the woman. “Panagu is a blessed place under the rule of your father. No one can question that. But one day, it will be our turn, and it will be even more blessed. Our love will make it so.”
“Oh, Neasan, I can’t think about that now,” said the beautiful woman, her long red hair swaying as she spoke. “I cannot take from my mind that you and I will live together. That every day, I will wake up with you at my side. That we will breakfast together, take walks through the garden, and journey side by side through life. I count the days till we are wed.”
Again Neasan stood and embraced the woman. “Soon, my dear Velthia. We will marry, bring forth children, and live out long happy days. Of that I’m sure.”
Keeva could barely fathom what she was hearing. Neasan was betrothed to another. And soon they would wed. And she, this Velthia, was the daughter of the king of Panagu. Keeva’s knees felt so weak she could barely stand. She grasped the wall for support, but her hand passed through it. She managed to collect herself before she collapsed.
She had entertained a fantasy similar to what she had just heard, one in which she and Neasan would rule Derfaria together, once King Brecan had passed down the reins to her. They would
rule the land benevolently and live long, happy lives together and bear children. Yet Neasan had ended their relationship with his heartless lies, and now he was to marry another princess.
Unable to watch any more, she stepped outside the wall. Hidden by a hedge, she dripped a drop of the pale red elixir on another rune drawn on her forearm and soon she was back in Derfaria.
Seven
As Jessica and Riley walked down the hall toward the dining room, they could hear the soft tinkling of glass. The smell of home cooking made its way from the kitchen. They entered the dining room and found Aunt Noreen and Uncle Basil seated before a brilliant display of polished silver. They both stood up.
“Come. Have a seat,” said Aunt Noreen, her friendly smile beaming.
“Wow!” exclaimed Jessica, looking everything over. “So fancy.” The dinner plates had matching silver soup bowls, the glasses were shiny crystal, and the flatware glittered. It was truly an impressive setting and not something she was used to seeing back home in Louisville. But Aunt Noreen was so openly warm and welcoming, she didn’t feel out of place. Both she and Uncle Basil were obviously glad they were there.
“We don’t always bring out the fancy service like this,” said Uncle Basil, “but we thought we’d have a formal dinner tonight. In your honor.”
He gestured to two chairs, and Jessica and Riley took their seats. Jessica studied the beautiful arrangement of fresh-cut flowers that served as the table’s centerpiece, their fragrance mingling with the aroma of cooking food. Despite the friendly welcome, she sat stiffly against the flat-backed chair.
“Something smells good,” said Riley.
“Meeda is an excellent cook,” said Aunt Noreen. “We thought we would offer you traditional dishes from our locality to give you a taste of Ireland.”
“Have you ever had kidney pie and tripe fritters?” asked Uncle Basil.
“Kidney pie?” asked Riley, concern obvious on his face.
“What’s tripe?” asked Jessica. She had never heard of it, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be her new favorite dish.
