by R J Darby
“Well said! Let us in!”
“If your council refuses to listen to our words, then we will have words on ourselves about the best way to protect the Kingdom - and I can assure you, it will not be as easy as a conversation over a table. That is all we are asking for. You there! The guard on the right, go and tell your council that if they do not allow us passage, we will make one for ourselves - right into the heart of the city!” His chest puffed up, the way that birds do when trying to intimidate a rival for their mate.
“I'll 'av a word. but they ain't gonna wanna see a load o' people telling stories about fantasies.” She slunk in, leaving the other to swing her javelin at anyone who came a hair's width to close.
“We will stand united. For the fae!"
"For the fae!" The crowd, even those who had not come there for the reason that the others had set their purpose to, chorused along. The three words seem set on repeat. They continued that way until a small man with a weakly face and beady eyes like a mole who was looking at the sun came to the door.
For the fae! For the fae! For the fae! For the fae! For the fae! For the fae! For the fae! For the fae!
Finally, it died down when he raised the hand. “The council we'll see one party, and two members of it only.”
“That's not enough!”
His thin lips curved into a smile. “It's that or the boiling sugar is poured on the lot of you.”
Looking up, guards were lining many of the windows, each with a steaming bucket in their hand. Leprechauns, like any other kind of fairy or pixie, are particularly fond of sugar. It is a weakness that has served humans quite well. Spill a bag of sugar, and the leprechaun will not move until she has counted out every grain. It's given many the opportunity to get away, but they better hope that the leprechaun they abandoned to count the granules never catches up to them. In this case, sugar did not seem so appetizing.
A ripple spread across the ground. Having hot sugar poured on them would have been a hideous fate. The sticky substance would have clung to their bodies until their skin peeled off - possibly even longer. What could they do, though?
“I vote that he goes in.” Jeremiah opened up the channels by pointing at Rowan, who blinked in rapid succession.
“Me?” he asked, looking around the groups, many of which contained warriors.
“Aye!” came a voice from his left, then another from his right. Then they came from all over.
“I agree. Send him in!”
“Yes.”
“Let the leprechaun speak to the council. He speaks for all of us!”
Rowan stood there in his green festival clothes, gripped onto the edge of his jacket lapels, and gave them a talk to straighten them up.
“I do,” he said in an unconvincing tone, followed by a much stronger one as he reiterated, “I do.”
“And who else?" asked the weasel man at the entrance who looked rather like a walnut.
They had not considered this. Confident there was soon awash with 'um' and 'erm's.
“My wife. A descendant of the banshee.” Rowan declared. Naimh had never heard herself referred to in that manner, not seriously anyway. She quite liked it, though. It felt natural, almost organic, like the inbuilt need to jump in a puddle when she saw one. Rowan extended his hand and pulled her onto the crate with him, thereby giving a show of his decision. The crowd seemed satisfied because banshees were widely respected across all of Tír na nÓg and not just within the Quiet Place. Once accepted, they were ushered inside.
“I'm so very proud of you,” Naimh whispered as she gave her husband a kiss on the cheek.
“But now the real talk begins.”
The two won't let down a corridor which oddly had looked better in darkness (all paths which lead to gold look better when they actually lead to gold). The man in front of them who had come down to collect them moved curiously quickly; his rapid yet tiny footsteps giving him the vibrating walk of a millipede.
When they entered the room, the council were already gathered on a long table, raised by several stone steps. Rowan and I wondered if that was because they wanted to look more intimidating. If it was the case, it was working.
“What have you to say, tiny man?” One curdled in the most patronizing tone. No wonder, he looked to have a bit of Pooka in his bloodline. Rowan felt a momentary guilt about the insult he had used earlier now that he was opposite an actual Pooka or at least a partial one. Pooka and banshee came face-to-face as Naimh took a step forward. It echoed around the room, as did her words.
“I am Naimh, the descendant of both leprechaun and banshee. I would have a word with you.”
“You are not the one who is it trying to incite violence.”
“I was not trying to incite violence.” Rowan protested. “But if that was the only way that I will be able to save many more people, well, yes, you deserve a jolly good spanking.” Several members of the council recoiled, going so far as to grab the table in case his chair toppled over backward.
Naimh put a reassuring yet humiliated hand on her husband. He recognized that grip. It was almost identical to the one she had given him when he had called one of the village children 'a miscreant water vole who lacked good parentage' - to her parents, unbeknownst to him. It seemed to him a very good idea to shut up and let the more diplomatic Naimh have the floor. Mothers have a natural ability to soothe a situation, and once they have given birth (whether the child remains or not), they are always mothers, and they always retain this skill.
“Go on,” said a lady council member dressed in the fine offerings of a silkworm.
“We were attacked by gorta. I know it must seem unfathomable, and to me, the events that have unfolded will never be something I can understand, but what I am about to tell you is what happened.”
With the few remaining tears that were left within her dry ducts, Naimh recounted the events that had left an eternal scar on the land of the Quiet Place. And once she was finished, she let out a breath that she had not known she had been holding.
There was silence.
The part Pooka spoke. “Thank you for your account. We will now discuss it. You may leave. I am sure that whatever it was that troubled your land will be long gone.” He turned to his quill and paper.
Naimh's lips parted softly. How could he neglect such a thing? The woman in silk, however, was more forthcoming - despite the silencing looks that penetrated her from either end of the table. Like armor, she deflected them easily.
“I am sorry to hear of your plight. Though indeed I must assure you of our belief due to the fact that- “
“Erin! Enough!” snapped the part Pooka. Rowan was really beginning to get sick of him. Apparently, so was Erin as she continued regardless.
“Due to the fact that we have already been made aware that the gorta have been congregating quite heavily along the banks.”
Naimh gave a shaky “thank you” at the validation.
“That is true, but it is a matter that we already have in hand.” Once again, Erin blanked him.
“It is brave people like you that may help us find another step. We may already have some information, but our sources are running dry. We would be most honored if you would assist us in our investigations against the plight ravaging your land.”
“We will,” both Rowan and Naimh said in unison, cutting off the next retort from the Pooka's mouth, which hung open with his vile tongue and words hovering on the inside.
“I thank you. It is my duty to inform you that your land was probably an unplanned casualty,” Erin's words had the two leprechauns feeling as weak as children.
“All of that destruction? Was it for nothing? Are children lost for no reason at all?”
As tears threatened at her eyes yet again, the wise elder of the council continued.
“It it's up to you whether you allow it to be for no reason at all. It is a harsh truth, but that currently seems to be the case. This is something you can turn a
round, though. If you would help us, it would give your children a legacy. I know very well, but this is hardly any compensation at all, but it is compensation, and a leveling of the scales is all we can offer.”
“I see.”
“Our sources have told us that many of the villages which have been destroyed were simply in the way. The gorta have behaved in a most linear way, causing death and destruction as the crow flies.”
“Are you saying that they are now merging at one point?”
“I am. Furthermore, we have reason to believe that Caoranach is involved.”
A hand landed on the table so hard, that there was a vibration underneath the feet of the two leprechauns. Rowan jumped.
Caoranach was not a name he had expected to hear. Even with the recent development of the fear gorta, some legends seemed to be too farfetched to be real. If he could only wrap his head around gorta (and he was not sure that he had even managed to do that yet), there was no way he could even begin to consider the existence of Caoranach. The very thought of that made his stomach tremble, and a gurgling escaped him. Not in hunger but in fear; the kind of fear that was held by a tiny ant that was about to be engulfed by a sparrow and was already within its beak, about to be swallowed.
Legend said that Caoranach was a fearsome beast, partially woman yet mostly snake, in appearance and mindset. She was the mother of all things dark and demonic and spread a poison so toxic that a single drop of her influence was as long-lasting as any venom.
It was with a wave of relief (that cooled the sweat on his palms) that Rowan remembered the next part of the story. Caoranach had been locked away, trapped within Loch Dearg, otherwise known as the red lake. He did not have enough time to ask any more questions because a voice sliced through the air – Caradine.
“That is enough! I demand that you stop divulging the secrets of this council, or I shall tell that teeming mob that you are to blame just to have you silenced.”
Erin had no choice but to stop. The threat of his lies was enough to have her murdered by the ravenous groups outside. They could all tell that. Considering that they were a council of seven faes, Caradine seemed to be the leader. Or, more precisely, the self-appointed one.
“As you wish, my lord, Caradine.” She stood and gave him a bow in submission. “But would you commit me to give the kindness of a hug to a fellow woman who has lost a child?”
The Pooka Caradine did not look in any way amused by this request, but with the eyes of the rest of the council on him, he had no choice. Such a request was a simple one. He could not be so heartless to deny it, not if he wanted to retain his respect, which he did seem to hold for whatever reason. Rowan could not see the one besides his bloodline.
“Do as you must.” The words had come out through gritted teeth, but indeed my heart come out, so it was with his coerced blessing that Erin came to wrap her arms around Naimh.
As she bent down to the woman's ear, she whispered only “Tonight. As the crows quiet. The stable side,” then straightened her posture ordered in a voice, but the rest of the room could hear, “Council dismissed.”
Chapter Six
Truth In The Shadows
As twilight fell across the city, the two leprechauns waited in the designated spot. They had told the other members of the village that progress was being made, but for fear of ears and eyes everywhere, they had not told anyone of this meeting. How could they know who to trust? Before they had even got to the Kingdom, one of their party had left in a huff. The only one who seemed trustworthy was Jeremiah, but in times like those, it was best not to take any risks. Leprechauns were bright creatures. They would not have survived for so many centuries if they had not been clever and quick written, but caution, in the right places, was part of their repertoire. This was partially why they rarely left the Quiet Place.
Rowan found himself musing how far from home he was, and if indeed he had a home to go back to, though he was not entirely sure that he would want to return anyway. A home without his family was merely a familiar house. How odd it seemed that leaving to trade or gather information from the Merrows was as far as he would have gone and that he rarely did. Now he was in the Kingdom, unsure of his roots. He felt as though he were a great oak tree that had gone from sapling to touching the clouds, and now he was uprooted and planted somewhere else. With strange feeling soil and having to find new forms of nutrients. His wife interrupted his thoughts.
“None of this seems real to me — the finality of it all, of our village, of our family. Even having confirmation on the fact that I have banshee blood hasn't quite sunken in. And I've had yet to get my head around that.” Naimh placed along the stonewalling.
“Sit still. We don't want to draw attention. I don't like this place. There's something about it that feels just wrong.” But, of course, anywhere without their children would feel wrong.
“I can't. I just feel like if I stop moving, the whole world will. I know that's ridiculous.”
“What is ridiculous is whatever the council is hiding. How can they do this to people? I like a prank as much as the next leprechaun, and this isn't a joke. There's nothing funny about it.” Rowan made himself comfortable by sitting on a bale, absentmindedly putting the horse at his side.
“I think that she wants to help us, though.”
“Erin?”
“Yes.”
“I don't know. I don't trust a single one of them. Especially not that one who kept trying to put her to silence. And what was that threat about? Do you think that somehow she is involved?”
Naimh considered his question while tapping on her lip. “No. I wouldn't be surprised if he is though. That Caradine.”
“I hear you there.”
“I do feel awful about not telling the others.”
“We have to stay safe.”
“Mmm... What do you suppose she meant when she said but she was also a mother who had lost her child?”
“I imagine as it sounds.”
“But do you think it was to the gorta? That may have been why she was so free with her information. In any case, it seems like it must have been a long time ago. Her eyes glimmer with the ghost of the past, but not with fresh tears.”
“Maybe there's more that meets the eye. We should not trust anybody.”
Naimh finally stopped her pacing with her legs feeling as wobbly as algae on the top of a pond. She sat next to him, comforted by the smell of straw in the Kingdom, which seem to be almost entirely made of stone; its council included.
“We have no choice but to trust Erin.”
“It doesn't mean that I have to like it.”
“Give her the benefit of the doubt. She's the only one that has information. Or should I say, she's the only one who has information that she is willing to part with?” She fed a groan to the sky as Rowan did the same with a handful of straw to the mare that had kept nudging him. “Oh, that I wish these problems could be swapped for the ones we used to think with the end of the world.”
“Like Ivy refusing to wear shoes in the snow and getting blue toes?” Rowan's smile was weak, but it was there.
“And how the boys would try and take the sisters gold just a look better in our eyes.”
“They could not have looked better if they were clad in it.”
Their nostalgia was ended by the sound of footsteps. The gorta must still have been wreaking havoc on their subconscious because they both shine into the corner as they did their best to become one with the shadow. So many frightening ideas that they previously would have thought it would have been seen only in stories scurried through their brains like beetles. What if it was not Erin? What is she have been caught? Where would they find any information then? What if Caradine had pre-empted by movements? What if the gortas were already here?
They did their best to hold their breath, releasing it only when they saw a swish of a silk skirt,
“Lady Erin. Thank you so much for this.” Naimh said.
>
Rowan moved along to give her access to a seat on the bail but she remained standing. There was a twitchiness about her that reminded him of a gray squirrel’s nose as it detected something delicious which it could steal. It did not surprise him though, and the whole place had an odd air about it that kept him on edge. Though maybe it was simply the strangeness of all that had occurred.
Lady Erin hurried her words. “I wanted to give you what information I could. I know that there is more that I can do, but the Kingdom is the only priority for men like Caradine. Understand that these problems are not limited to our walls.”
“Have you told Caradine that?”
With an incline of her head, she said, “many times.” The two leprechauns exchanged a glance which was tucked under folded brows of auburn.
“What help do you have to share with us?” Rowan asked.
“A little and a lot. As I managed to make you aware within there, we suspect that Caoranach is the one responsible for these heinous crimes. The gorta have been growing in numbers like scavengers on a carcass around the lake in which she dwells for weeks.”
“Weeks?” Rowan jerked his arm and pulled out the tuft of straw that he has been fiddling with (which war horse swiftly helped itself to). That proved it, Caoranach was real and somehow must have been freed.
“Yes, and in all the best time, the council have been burying their head in the sand because they think that Caoranach will stay where she is.”
“What reason do they give for that?”
Erin took a breath in through her nose and released it very slowly out of her mouth, which appeared to be painted in a glossy shade of pink. Naimh was quick to realize that this opaque shade was actually a part of her.
“I cannot say. What I can say is, the council will be having another meeting tomorrow. They plan to send an invitation to you fifteen minutes after dawn.”
