Astray

by J F Rogers

  A hand mirror rested on the table. I peered at my reflection. My eyes widened. My usual greasy, lifeless hair shone and bounced. No zits appeared anywhere. My skin, still pale, was smooth. Some might even consider me attractive. Was it a trick of the mirror? The bed, the small table, and everything else was normal. I aimed it back on myself and smiled, enhancing my newfound beauty. What caused this transformation? The dim lighting or the soap I’d used? Or was it this place?

  My dream. This is what my face looked like before it morphed and fangs appeared. If this part came true, what about the rest? Would I become one of those monsters I kept hearing about?

  A sense of dread seeped into my body and settled in my heart, thick and sticky like black tar. Why did I always have to ruin any moment of happiness?

  ****

  I followed Mirna through the village to see the guy who’d tell my future. What if I didn’t want to know? Did I have a choice? Each painfully slow step toward this knowledge seemed to circulate the tarlike dread from my heart to my extremities, further slowing my steps. The thin leather shoes Kyra gave me felt as if they weighed a ton. It became difficult to keep Mirna’s agonizingly sluggish pace. Why did I feel as if I was about to meet an executioner, and I’d been found guilty?

  I switched my focus to the village. Children helped older siblings or parents tend to their gardens. Some washed clothes in a bucket. Others hung the items to dry. A couple of kids sat next to their mother, each weaving a basket.

  The homes thinned and the ground leveled as we approached the farmlands. Cows dotted the meadow. Children carried baskets of eggs and bottles of milk toward the village. Everywhere we went, people paused from their tasks, smiled, and waved.

  I returned their greetings, hoping my smile didn’t appear as false as it felt. Despite the peace and contentment surrounding me, my mind continued to return to the seer. What would he see in me? Would he confirm that I’d become the monster in my dream?

  Mirna led me down a trail in the woods beyond the farmland. The laughter and chatter disappeared. A swarm of flying toads croaked as they flew by, and the ground crunched under our feet. A small cabin came into view. Everyone else lived together in homes built into hills. Why did this man live so differently, so far apart from the others?

  A tall man with white hair and matching beard opened the door as we approached. I caught sight of his eyes and gasped. Were they rolled up in his head? No, gray filled the space where irises and pupils belonged. He smiled as though he was happy to see me. As if he could. Could he?

  “Come in, Fallon.” His cheerful demeanor didn’t match his sinister appearance. Something in his voice and smile calmed me slightly. But those eyes. I couldn’t stop staring.

  “Fallon, this is Sully,” Mirna said as Sully pushed the door open and held it while making room for me to enter.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” Mirna waved and toddled back down the trail.

  I climbed the two steps into the cabin, still staring into the gray eyes. They bulged slightly where pigment belonged. I stiffened.

  As if sensing my discomfort, Sully closed his eyes. He shut the door and crossed the floor to a small living room without a stick to guide him. He turned back to me, those unnerving eyes aimed right at me, without searching.

  “Can you see?” Morbid fascination took control of my tongue. It took a moment to register what I’d just said. My cheeks warmed. Idiot!

  Sully chuckled. “Aye, but not in the way you can.” He sat in a stuffed chair and motioned for me to sit in a matching chair across from him. “Have a seat, dear one.”

  I stifled the urge to ask what he meant. How was his vision different? Sensing he had other plans for our visit, I managed to refrain, despite the lack of words filling the air.

  He reached for a couple of mugs waiting on the table beside him and handed one to me. Water. Was that a custom? Everyone I visited in Notirr handed me a mug of water. Sully moved about as if he could see perfectly. I envisioned him with his eyes closed and a red Santa hat. Yup. He would make the best Macy’s parade Santa ever. Well, the best skinny Santa ever.

  After taking a long sip, Sully replaced his mug on the table, folded his hands in his lap, and relaxed his shoulders, as if settling in for a long, pleasant chat. “I’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”

  I took a sip of the sweet liquid, trying to appear nonchalant and avoid his eyes, in case he knew I was staring. “How long?”

  “Oh.” His gnarled fingers scratched his liver-spotted head, tousling a patch of what remained of his hair. “About fifty years or so.”

  “Fifty years!” I set the mug down. It clanged the table, spilling a few drops. “I haven’t even been alive that long.”

  “Nay, your parents weren’t born yet either. It makes no difference. There was no need to discuss the matter until it was time for your mother to leave.” He reached out for his drink. His hand trembled, probably from old age because he didn’t appear afraid otherwise.

  “When she left Ariboslia?” I moved to the edge of my chair.

  A noise muffled in his throat accompanied his almost imperceptible nod as he sipped from his mug. He swallowed. “Did you know she’s a twin?”

  “No.” My head began to pound. More relatives? Mirna mentioned having a son yesterday. With the information overload, it hadn’t occurred to me that I had an uncle. I could only process so much at a time. I rubbed my temples.

  “Your gran bore only the two children. Your granda died before their birth. They’re…” He tipped his head back and forth sideways a couple times as if trying to loosen the correct word from his brain. “…special. They have certain powers, such as starting fires with their minds.”

  Sully’s words faded to a background murmur. His last sentence echoed in my head… starting fires with their minds. My fire. I hadn’t been rubbing the sticks together. Could it be?

  “Fallon?”

  I blinked. “Huh? Oh. Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I was telling you about your uncle when I lost you. Aodan, your mum’s twin brother, let his powers get the better of him. He lusted for more until his hunger consumed the good within him. He joined Morrigan.”

  I nearly dropped my cup. “Morrigan? The same Morrigan Declan told me about? The first fasgadair?”

  Sully nodded. “The one and only.”

  “So, my uncle is one of those bloodsuckers?”

  “Aye. ’Tis true. He’s not only one of them. He’s their leader.”

  My jaw dropped. Talk about dysfunctional. What a messed-up family I was born into! “I thought Morrigan was their leader.”

  “She is. But she prefers to remain in secret. She lets Aodan believe he’s in control. Truly he’s a puppet.” He drew his lips inward and breathed deeply through his nose. “Poor lad was ripe for the picking. Morrigan wanted his unique talents. She used his lust for power to lure him. She enticed him with a kingdom and the abilities unique to the fasgadair: speed, heightened senses, inhuman strength, and power of suggestion. But what snared him was the promise of immortality. His inherited gifts mixed with the fasgadair blood make him a terrifying enemy. Later, with her witchcraft, Morrigan saw what I already knew.”

  “What?”

  “After Aodan’s rise to power, his twin sister Cataleen would have a child who would end his tyranny.”

  “What child?” I glanced about the room as though the person he spoke of might linger. I feared the answer, but nourished a faint glimmer of hope she’d birthed another child.

  “You.”

  As my hope extinguished, my chest tightened making it difficult to breathe.

  “When Morrigan told Aodan about you, he tried driving your mum to suicide. One of the special abilities the twins possessed was the mind-link they shared. An ability to communicate, without words, across any distance. When he found out about the prophesied child,” Sully tilted both his right hand and his head in my direction, “he opened the link an
d bombarded her with images to drive her mad. Try as she might, she couldn’t block them.”

  Sully took a slow sip from his mug. “So I shared the prophecy with the village. I already knew Cataleen would be sent to the human realm. Still I had to convince the elders. When Aodan went so far as to convince Cataleen to pick up a knife and aim it at herself, they listened. It was only a matter of time before she ended her life or Aodan sent someone to complete the task.”

  Something in Sully’s deep voice and Scottish sounding accent calmed me. If only his words were more comforting.

  “The elders consented to send Cataleen away. Then Faolan, a friend to both Aodan and Cataleen, reappeared. He had left the village with Aodan years before. His return surprised everyone. They marveled over how he had managed to live among the fasgadair without being turned or enslaved. Everyone except me.” He chortled. “I am difficult to surprise.”

  “Did he refuse to become one? Why would they let him live?”

  Sully raised his eyebrows. “Good questions. Exactly what the rest of us wanted to know. Just because I know certain things will happen, doesn’t mean I know why. Perhaps something within Aodan still couldn’t bear killing his friend. Despite all that, Faolan knew as well as I that Cataleen needed to leave. I had already secured Drochaid, your amulet, from Pepin. Cataleen used it to enter the human realm, with Faolan’s help.”

  “And then she met my father and I came along?”

  “So it would seem. I’m not capable of seeing into your realm, nor what the One True God does not choose to reveal.”

  “So why am I here?”

  Sully took a deep breath. “When you were three years old, your mum returned to Notirr. She brought your da.”

  “My da? You mean, my father? Why would she risk it?”

  “Something about him needing to know the truth—the why doesn’t matter. The moment she returned, Aodan sensed her presence. They tried to leave before he could intercept them, but Aodan’s men ambushed them. He had your da killed and your mum abducted.”

  “How? My father’s body was found in the woods near my house.”

  “The fasgadair followed them through the portal.”

  “How do you know this? You said you can’t see into my world. How do you know my father died there?”

  Sully reached to touch my arm, eyes closed. “I have seen your mum. She is enslaved by the fasgadair.”

  What on earth possessed them to return? If they hadn’t, I would’ve grown up with a family. How could they have—My heart skipped a beat. “My mother is still alive?”

  He nodded.

  I nearly jumped out of my chair. “Does anyone else know? Do you know where she is? Why haven’t you rescued her?”

  “Dear child, everything needs to happen according to God’s plan. Otherwise, it will result in certain disaster. The fasgadair are faster and stronger. God will protect us, but we must do things His way.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Isn’t there anyone who could sneak in and save her?”

  “Lass, there are so many who need rescuing. We do not have the warriors to free them all. And any attempt to thwart God’s plans will only result in harm to oneself or others. His desired outcome will be achieved regardless.”

  “But what does all this mean? What part do I play in this?”

  “You will rescue your mum from her captors and the rest of us from your uncle.”

  “Me? Are you kidding? I’m a kid. I’m a wimp. I can’t rescue anyone.” My mouth hung open as I fought to connect the dots. My mother—still alive. Yes, her body never turned up. How often had Fiona complained about her casket laying empty next to my dad’s? But how could I save her? I didn’t know anything about this place. I wasn’t a warrior. I had no skills.

  On the other hand, what else did I have to live for? I’ve never wanted anything more than my parents, and now I had a chance to find one of them. Wasn’t it worth risking my life? “How am I supposed to rescue her?”

  “How you will accomplish this has not been revealed to me, only that you will. And you will not be alone. You will have the best help possible.”

  “Well there’s a relief.” My sarcasm reemerged. “Who’s that?”

  “God.”

  “God?” I laughed. I meant no disrespect to the Big Guy, but He’d abandoned me long ago. He wouldn’t help me. I’m not even sure I believed He existed. “How is He going to help me?”

  “He will give you a gift when you are ready.” He dropped his voice. “You think He has failed you, but He hasn’t. He has been watching you, caring for you, molding you. All you have been through has made you stronger than you realize. You are growing stronger still.”

  “Caring for me? Watching me? By taking away my parents and Bumpah, leaving me with an unloving stiff? I doubt it.” I crossed my arms.

  My insolence failed to agitate him. He remained calm and pleasant. He took a long drink. “When you choose to seek Him, you will find Him. Only then will you begin to understand.”

  Yeah, right! What a load of bull. “So what is this I’m supposed to do? I don’t know how to fight. I can’t even cook a rabbit to save my life.”

  “Follow the amulet.”

  “Huh?”

  “The amulet will guide you. The pech who forged Drochaid is one of the few who worship the One True God. Most pech worship the elements—air, fire, earth, and water—as though they are more than mere sustenance provided by God. The pech have amazing abilities with stone. As God’s servant, Pepin has shown what such abilities do in the hands of a true believer. Use it.”

  “I don’t get it. I’m just supposed to wander a world I don’t know based on what direction a rock points me?” I pulled it from beneath my collar. “It’s not even doing anything. It hasn’t for days.”

  “It will when it’s time.”

  “What if I refuse?”

  “Our God is outside of time. He knows all—past, present, and future. I know this to be true, because He revealed you to me many years ago and here you are. All He has shown me has come to be. In my youth, my immaturity, I attempted to thwart His plans. The result was this.” He pointed to his eyes. “And the outcome I tried to change occurred regardless. Lesson learned. I no longer attempt to interfere, but to assist.” A dreamy quality softened his voice. “I sometimes wonder if part of His plan was to blind me. If the events had not transpired as they had, I would not see as I do today.”

  “So we don’t have free will?”

  “To the contrary—we do. As I explained, the outcome will occur according to His will regardless. The question is, will you play the part?”

  “It doesn’t feel like I have much choice. I’m trapped in a backward world only the Grimm Brothers could’ve dreamed up, and I have to rescue my mother? How?”

  I stared at my shaking hands then placed them under my legs to get them to stop. I wanted to scream and cry. It was hopeless. I would fail. No doubt about it. I. Would. Fail.

  Sully placed a hand on my shoulder. “This is much to learn. You have suffered a great deal for one so young. God has chosen you for His reasons. You will learn to trust Him in time. You will not fail.”

  The dream returned to me. My face. The dead eyes. The fangs. I took a deep breath and dared to ask the one thing I really didn’t want to know. “What about the dream? I keep dreaming I become one of those monsters…the fasgadair.”

  “’Tis but a dream.” Sully leaned forward, his gray eyes trained on mine as though he could peer into my soul. “But remember, there is always a choice. Choose wisely.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ◊◊◊

  HARD WOOD PRODDED MY back as I rocked in a wooden rocking chair in my grandmother’s living room. The chair’s rhythmic squeak against the floorboards and a distant hum of cicadas, or some similar sounding creature, filled the air. Afternoon sun streaming through the window dimmed as the shadows in the room lengthened. A slight breeze ruffled the curtains. I star
ed at the steady flame encased in glass on the table while Mirna knit in silence.

  Perhaps I should skip dinner tonight. How could I face them? Now I understood. These people didn’t welcome me as a long lost family member. They hailed a savior. Something I wasn’t—something I’d never be.

  What if I became an epic fail, like Cairbre? What if, like him, my story became a tale of what not to do…shared with generations to come? What if I became the monster I feared? Sully hadn’t said it wouldn’t happen.

  But I couldn’t avoid dinner. Scents wafted through the village into the open window, bringing me back to days of Bumpah cooking on the grill in the backyard. My stomach rumbled, reminding me of those first few days in Ariboslia—of true hunger. Phantom pain emerged with the memory.

  I followed Mirna along the path between the hill homes to dinner. She remained mercifully silent. We arrived at the tent filling with a large crowd. When spoken to, I plastered a smile on my face, unsure of how to respond. But I was a sham, an imposter, an actress in the wrong play without a script.

  Declan pulled me aside. “What’s troubling you?”

  “Nothin’.” Other than the fact that I’d inevitably let everyone here down, and generations to come would tell tales of it. I shook my head, unwilling to dash his hopes.

  Others tried to engage me as well. They eyed Declan, questioning him in silence. He shrugged, eyebrows raised and eyes wide in response, showing his complete lack of understanding. I pretended not to notice.

  The night passed in a haze. After everything I’d been through, I should be tied up, hugging myself in a love-me jacket and thrown in a padded cell where I could commence drooling. If only I had something sharp to halt my cyclical thoughts and refocus them on tangible pain.

  Once in bed, I fought in vain to sleep. The questions, the uncertainty of coming events robbed me of rest. I flitted in and out of nightmares.

  The woman with long, blonde hair sat by the shore, watching the ocean waves. The breeze swept across the shore, swirling the white dress around her delicate frame as locks danced about her face. Without turning toward me, she called my name. “Fallon…Faaaaallon.”