Astray

by J F Rogers

  “When’s the meeting? I haven’t been to breakfast.” On cue, my stomach rumbled. “And I’m supposed to help with the little ones.”

  “’Tis after lunch.”

  I loved how everyone gathered for mealtimes. Of everything the Cael did, this seemed most important. Daily events revolved around meals. No one mentioned a specific time, just before or after a meal.

  Ryann had convinced me to help with the small children. So I’d taken to eating with them. They jumped around, shouting my name each time they saw me, even if the last time they’d seen me had been moments before.

  Their genuine excitement reminded me of Stacy. I wondered, again, what she was doing. I hated to think of her ruining her summer worrying about me. She must have contacted Fiona. What would Fiona say? Was she looking for me? Did she call the police and report me missing? She must have. I’d been gone almost a month. Great, all our family needed was another missing person for the local gossips.

  We made our way to the village for breakfast. Children ran or toddled to me yelling, “Fowin” or something resembling it. Their joyous greeting warmed my heart.

  “Hi guys.” I’m not sure how “guys” translated in Ariboslian, but they responded with giggles and goofy grins.

  “Fowin! Fowin!” Colleen tugged on my dress, her blue eyes alight and blond ringlets bouncing. “Sit with me, Fowin.”

  I squatted to speak face-to-face to my little cling-on. “Of course, sweetie.”

  She ran into my arms with such force I almost toppled backward. Laughing, I embraced her with one arm and balanced myself with the other.

  Once I’d helped serve the kids, I took my food next to Colleen, as promised. She prattled on about the other children as she picked onions out of her eggs. A bit of a mother hen, she liked to correct other kids’ behavior then share stories about what they’d done wrong. She sat erect, speaking with the air of an adult as she made faces at wormlike onions dangling from her pinched fingers. I tried not to laugh.

  Ryann must have overheard. She got down on one knee beside Colleen, reddish blonde hair falling in waves past her shoulders. “Are you telling stories about the others again?”

  Colleen looked down, kicking her dangling feet.

  “You have a good sense of right and wrong. And you are helpful with the children. But everyone makes mistakes sometimes, right?” Ryann focused on the little girl, her questions firm and tender.

  Colleen nodded, still struck mute.

  “When you make a mistake, does it make you feel good or bad?”

  Colleen let out an almost inaudible, “Bad.”

  “And you apologize and try not to do it again, right?”

  She offered a weak nod.

  “How do you think you make the other kids feel when you talk about them?”

  “Not good.”

  “What do you think you should do?”

  “Stop telling what other kids do wrong.”

  “A good choice.” Ryann smiled, opening her arms.

  Colleen flew into them with as much eagerness as she had with me, but now, she had tears in her eyes.

  Ryann stroked Colleen’s curls. “You are loved, dear child.”

  Colleen returned to her meal. Her eager chatter resumed, but the content changed to a detailed explanation of precisely why she hated cooked onions.

  What a transformation. Never had I witnessed anything like that back home. All I’d seen there were passive dads, yelling moms, and bratty kids. With the exception of Stacy’s mom, of course. But even she didn’t have the gentle finesse Ryann displayed.

  The kids all helped with the cleanup from breakfast while the men and older boys returned to other chores. I delivered Colleen and a few others her age to their teachers, then headed to the field for my daily defense lesson, another one of Sully’s suggestions.

  Sloane, the defense instructor, was not what I expected from a trained fighter. He was well muscled, but only in proportion to his slim body. He was short for a full-grown man, too. I could look him in the eye.

  “All right, let’s try it again.” Sloane reached around my neck and put me in a chokehold. Following his instruction, I planted my feet, tucked my chin, grasped his arm, and pushed back as I slid my body out sideways.

  “Good. Again.”

  “If someone really wants to choke me, I doubt I could get out so easy.”

  “That may be true.” He wrapped his arm around my neck once more. “Assume you are unable to free yourself. Where are your arms?”

  “Down here.” I flapped them by my side.

  “Right. Remember, as long as your arms, legs, or head are free you have a weapon. What could you do? Can you move your head?”

  “No. It’s stuck.”

  “So head-butting isn’t a choice. What about your legs?”

  The more I moved my legs the tighter the resistance on my neck. I coughed. “Not comfortably.”

  “What about your arms?”

  My arms flapped awkwardly at my side. He held me so tight, my arms didn’t have enough range of movement to gather strength to hit him hard enough to release me. But I could scratch his arms or his face, though the thought of doing so sickened me. “I could scratch you.” I lifted my hands to his arm and gently pressed to demonstrate.

  “Exactly. When you are locked in battle, you must free yourself by any means. There is another option. Can you think what it is?”

  “Not a clue.” Speaking wasn’t easy in this position.

  “If you are ever stuck like this, struggling to breathe, turn your head and tuck your chin. Even if it’s too tight to get out, you will be able to breathe if your throat is not constricted. Go ahead, tuck your chin.”

  I obliged.

  “Now what can you do?”

  I knew what I could do. Bile lodged in my throat. “I could…bite your arm.” His arm muffled my voice.

  “Right.” He released me. “Remember, the best fight is no fight. But if you have to, use everything you have to get away: hit, kick, scratch, bite. Use what God gave you. Make it fast and make it count so you have time to get away. The fasgadair are strong, but they are not invincible. They feel pain too.” He turned and waved back at me. “Follow me.”

  We headed toward the classrooms. Sloane stepped up into one of the buildings, and I followed. Ancient looking weapons lined the rustic cabin walls and countertops. He retrieved something from the cabinet against the far wall, turned, and handed me a stick.

  The smooth wood slid comfortably into my hand. I tipped the surprisingly sharp point to the light, even as I fit my fingers to the grooves carved for them to slip into. It fit perfectly…like it had been made for my hand. I arched a brow. “A stake?”

  “Aye. I carved it for you. Keep it on you at all times. Do you remember how to use it? I know we’ve moved to more defensive maneuvers, but you’ll need the stake to kill the fasgadair.” His back straightened as he waited for my response.

  Most of what he’d taught me was a blur. I’d never be able to stick the thing into anyone’s …anyone’s…A full body shudder rocked me.

  “We’ll practice more tomorrow. I still have to patch up the straw dummy. You made quite a few holes in some interesting places.” He laughed, rubbed his hand along the five o’clock shadow growing on his scalp, and faced the cabinet. “There’s one more thing.” He reached in and removed something wrapped in cloth. He delicately peeled the dark blue material away to reveal a dagger. Sloane held the blade carefully so the material fell away from the braided steel grip and furled around the intricate tree with roots etched into the pommel.

  I didn’t want to touch it. “What do I need that for?”

  “There are other things out there besides fasgadair. You may need to defend yourself.”

  “How am I supposed to carry two weapons?” I tucked the stake into my belt.

  “I’ll give you a sheath for the dagger. You should keep the stake just as you have it now.”
r />   “But how will I know which weapon I’ll need?”

  “Keep them both on you. You’ll know which one to use when.”

  “You have too much faith in me.”

  He waved the grip at me as if I’d forgotten he wanted me to take it. I hadn’t forgotten. It had been so long since I’d held something sharp with the exception of at the dinner table. But this was different. This was a sharp instrument meant for doing damage. What if, somewhere along the way in this journey, I resorted to my old habits? I didn’t want to go back there. I couldn’t go back there.

  “Remember,” he began in his lecture tone, “defense is more important than offense. Stay away from a fight if you can. But if you need to, use this. You shouldn’t go out there completely unarmed.”

  I grasped the handle delicately and balanced the heavy weight, staring at the long blade. It bulged evenly beyond the grip and merged to a sharp point. I couldn’t picture myself using it. The idea of plunging it into anything squishy…I shuddered.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to use the dagger. Good job today, Fallon.”

  “Yeah, right.” The compliment grated. “We both know I’m dead if a fasgadair attacks me.”

  He chuckled, and the otherwise imperceptible lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth popped out, betraying his age. “You’ll be fine. I have no doubt.”

  I threw him a disbelieving glance.

  He smiled. “Look at you. You’re stronger than when you started. Your stamina has improved. But the best fight is no fight at all. Focus on getting away as quick as you can. We need you alive.”

  No problem. Running away was my greatest skill.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ◊◊◊

  WHEN I ARRIVED FOR lunch, I was too nervous about meeting with the elders to eat or give the kids attention. I formed my mashed potatoes into a volcano, a pool of butter melting in its center. I cut strategic ridges out of the tip with care to allow butter to drip down the sides. When I rose to help the kids pick up, I’d found I’d entertained them without meaning to. I laughed at the sad little replicas of my masterpiece on their plates.

  Once the area was clean and the children shuffled away, I found Declan.

  “Where are we meeting?” I asked.

  “Right here.” He stopped at a table, sat, and patted the next chair. “Sit.”

  When I drummed my fingers on the table, Declan reached over and flattened my hand. An electrical surge at the point of contact ran up my arm. Had he noticed? I glanced sideways at him. His twinkling eyes and upturned lip made my heart flutter. I smiled back, took a deep breath, and slipped my hands under my legs.

  All the tables filled, except the one furthest from the entrance. Nervous chatter grew to an indiscernible buzz. Sully, Mirna, Declan’s father, and others I didn’t recognize, moved to the empty table and sat facing the crowd.

  Declan III stood and raised his arms. When the murmurings subsided, he began, “Sully, the elders have gathered today at your request. What news do you bring?”

  Sully cleared his throat. “Morrigan and Aodan know of Fallon’s presence.”

  Gasps filled the air followed by anxious whispers. Many eyes trained on me as if searching for a reaction. But this wasn’t news to me.

  “Are they on their way?” someone shouted from behind.

  “We must flee to the Cnatan mountains!” another yelled from the other side of the room.

  Sully attempted to speak, but the deafening shouts overpowered him. Declan’s father pounded on the table. When the voices simmered down, he spoke, “Please, let’s hear what Sully has to say and discuss the matter, one at a time.”

  Sully’s gray eyes roamed the crowd. “Aodan won’t attack his home village. He knows the prophecy and her mission. He is confident she will come to him and plans to set up traps along the way to Diabalta for her capture. He doesn’t want her dead…yet.”

  Well, that was comforting.

  “Are you going to send her straight into the traps?” I couldn’t see the speaker.

  “How will she fulfill the prophecy?” came another shout.

  Watching everyone talk about me as if I weren’t there unnerved me, like an out-of-body experience watching doctors perform surgery on me.

  “Of course we won’t send her into a trap. Where is your faith? She is in God’s hands. He will lead her as He has thus far. He will use Drochaid, which will soon point Fallon on her way. The time has come to determine who will accompany her, so they may prepare to leave.”

  “Agreed.” Declan’s father gave a sharp nod. “Have you insight on this?”

  “I do. God has shown me. Cahal Fidhne, Ryann Mughráin, and your son, Declan Cael IV, are to accompany her. On foot.”

  A renewed clamorous buzz erupted throughout the Cael. Declan and I looked at each other, eyes wide and mouths open. This I had not expected. I clamped my mouth shut and faced the elders, attempting to listen while they debated my future, but my mind kept returning to my traveling companions.

  Declan would go with me! But who was Cahal? And Ryann? An inch or two taller than me, thin, a few years older at most. Sure, she was nice and great with the kids. But no way would she have that kind of effect on vampires. And I didn’t know what to make of her. She tended to focus on her work rather than chat, making her difficult to get to know. So serious. All the time. Why would she accompany me on this quest? What could she offer?

  Then again, what could I offer?

  I returned my attention to their arguments. Mirna, Declan’s father, and many of the others agreed with Sully. But, despite Sully’s venerable history of accurate predictions, many debated with him.

  Declan nudged me. “Your grandmother and my father know better than to argue with Sully. They’ve been elders the longest and have no doubt where Sully gets his knowledge. See the younger man on the end? The one without much gray?”

  I nodded. “The one who insists we should be allowed horses for transportation?”

  “Aye. He hasn’t quite learned yet. Neither have they.” Declan pointed to two slightly older men who agreed more warriors should accompany us. “They lack faith.”

  I guess I did too. Though I hadn’t learned to ride, I’d much prefer a horse to carry me. And warriors to accompany me. No, I wanted an army to protect me. My enemy knew I was here. He was waiting for me. He was so sure he’d overtake me that he wasn’t concerned about keeping me alive. For a little while anyway. And for what purpose? I swallowed hard.

  “At least we have Cahal.” Declan leaned over, halting my downward spiraling thoughts.

  “Who’s Cahal?”

  He turned in his seat and pointed behind us. “Three tables back. The big one.”

  He was easy to spot, he towered head and shoulders above the rest. He would have stuck out of the crowd even if he’d been much shorter. Hardly any Cael had dark hair or eyes. He had both. Black hair fell into piercing black eyes. And he didn’t have much of a neck—it was more like a tree stump, thick. Taught skin clung to the veiny muscles his sleeveless tunic exposed. His gaze dropped from the elders to me, catching my stare. I elbowed Declan in my haste to turn around.

  “Sorry!”

  Declan waved it off. “All is well.”

  “The guy’s a giant.” I hoped he wasn’t as mean as he looked. Or perhaps he’d just been intently listening. Either way, it was a good thing he was on our side. I almost told Declan how thankful I was to have at least one warrior type accompany us. But given what he’d shared about his past, I didn’t dare. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel inadequate. And despite Cahal’s stature, he was only one man. How many bloodsuckers waited to pounce me? Three companions. Only three.

  Declan’s father stood and raised his arms again. “It has been decided. Cahal Fidhne, Ryann Mughráin, and Declan Cael IV will accompany Fallon Webb on her quest to fulfill the prophecy of our forefathers. They will follow Drochaid on foot. God be with them.”

&n
bsp; God, I hope You’re there. We’re going to need You.

  ****

  As the sun went down, I lay on the soft grass near the ocean, listening to the surf. Declan by my side, I stared at the stars, trying to forget evil forces wanted me dead. I breathed deeply to steady my racing heart, attempting to stuff down the rising fear and focus on the millions of pinpricks of light splattering the night sky. “I wonder if those stars are the same as the ones back home.” Declan didn’t respond to my rhetorical question. “Have you ever wondered how big those teeny stars really are?”

  “Aye.” A piece of grass dangled from his mouth.

  “Did you know our sun is only a medium-sized star?”

  “Nay.”

  “That means some of those stars are large.” I sighed. “They must be incredibly far away to seem so small.”

  “I never thought of that.”

  “Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

  “Aye, and all the more amazed by God.”

  “I can’t even conceive of a being Who could’ve created such an immense universe.” I tried to comprehend the notion and found my puny brain incapable. “Have you ever heard of the Big-Bang Theory?” I doubted he had, yet some similar theory could exist here.

  “Nay. What’s that?”

  “Well, I don’t fully understand it, but I guess it’s the thought that random particles collided in space and created all this. The idea is that, over billions of years, life will spontaneously occur and evolve. According to the Theory of Evolution anyway.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When small changes in a species lead to new species, or something. They say we evolved from apes.”

  “What do you mean? Humans can shape-shift too?”

  “No. In my realm, apes are apes and people are people. We don’t change into anything else. The theory is that apes populated the world first. Over time, their bodies straightened and grew taller, their faces changed, and they became less hairy and more brainy.”

  “Do they think we came from apes too? We originated in your realm.”

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. I guess you would have.”