by J F Rogers
“Look.” She pointed higher up on the door. A small square window budged. We backed up to peer inside, but it was too high.
“Who goes there?” a voice boomed.
“It is I,” Ryann shouted, “Ryann Mughráin, daughter of Abracham Mughráin, descendent of the Mughráin clan, founders of Notirr. I travel with fellow clansmen Declan Cael and Cahal Fidhne with Fallon Webb of the human realm, to assist in her quest to defeat Aodan Tuama.”
I glanced around certain all of Ariboslia heard her. What was she, the town crier? Why not just hand over her birth certificate and college transcripts? Shouldn’t this quest involve some stealth? What if these creatures didn’t want us to succeed?
“What leads you to the Tower of Galore?” The gravelly voice sounded like it came through a megaphone.
“A pechish amulet,” Ryann said.
The window closed. Seconds ticked by. I glanced at my companions. “Why’d he leave? Do they have a problem with the pech?” My questions met blank stares, frowns, and shrugs.
“I wonder—”
Another noise, similar to the window opening but louder, closer, interrupted Ryann. On the bottom of the door, in the center, a small rectangle opened. The rock had been smooth before—seamless.
We all gasped. Stubby, sausage-like fingers emerged from the shadows, beckoning us. “Come quickly.” The owner of the hand sounded like the voice from the window. “Not him,” it said when Wolf stepped forward.
Wolf sat.
I hesitated, my eyes fixed on him. When he motioned toward the opening with his snout, I frowned, turned, and crawled through.
Once inside, I watched Cahal attempt to squeeze his mass through the small opening. His broad shoulders stuck. He twisted, kitty-corner, and pushed through it. The door shut, sealing us inside.
I stared at the little man who’d let us in. He stood about half my height, yet twice as wide. A long red ponytail and matching beard flowed over his shoulders. Past him, the door we’d come through was now virtually invisible. No handle, nothing, revealed its existence. But a small staircase off to the side led to a platform where something resembling a megaphone hung on the wall.
“You’re pechish.” Ryann voiced the surprise I’m sure we all felt.
The pech cleared his throat. “Eh hem. Well, yes. Now, let me see this amulet of which you speak.”
I stepped toward him and got down on one knee, allowing him access to Drochaid while keeping it around my neck.
He grasped it in his chubby hand and studied it for a moment. “Drochaid. Hmph.” His nose wrinkled as if he’d caught a whiff of something nasty.
Not the reaction I was expecting, not that I’d had enough time to process this little twist and expect much. I glanced at my friends. Concern masked their faces.
“Did you take this castle from the giants?” Declan asked.
“Giants?” The man let Drochaid fall. “No. We built this place to appear to be the work of giants, centuries ago when the gachen first arrived. We spread stories of giants so none would disturb us.”
Eyebrows raised, we exchanged nods. I, for one, was impressed.
Ryann introduced us again with a slight bow, pounding her fist twice in rapid succession against her heart. When Declan and Cahal did the same, I followed suit.
“I am Tollak.” He imitated Ryann’s greeting. He looked each of us in the eye in turn. “The secret of the Tower of Galore must remain intact.”
A chorus of “of course,” “certainly,” and “without a doubt” accompanied bobbing heads.
“Your word will not be enough. The secret you carry is trusted only among the pech. Before you will be allowed to leave, you will eat a glemmestein.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A mineral that melts on your tongue. You will be allowed to stay here twelve hours, no more. The glemmestein will erase any memories gained in that time.”
“What if we refuse?” Ryann asked.
“Then you will not be allowed to leave. Come. I will lead you to Pepin.”
When I searched my companion’s faces, it appeared they were not pleased with having their memories erased either. But what choice did we have? How would we open a door without a handle, or seams?
We followed Tollak through several stone rooms. Intricate designs engraved in every surface. I’d expect it to be cold, but the temperature was perfect. The ceilings, supported by elaborate pillars in some of the larger rooms, high for the pech, allowed us to walk upright. Only Cahal had to stoop in entryways.
“You’ve come in time for the Turnering av Stryke,” Tollak explained as we walked. “We hold competitions to separate the strongest males coming of age. It is an important rite of passage. Those who excel will be fit for the royal guard, as I am, or assigned to equally important work.” His chest puffed. “Those who fail to perform well will bring much shame to their families.”
When we came to a hall smaller than the entrance into the tower, I groaned. It was dark. No telling how long it was. We would have to crawl the entire distance.
“These halls are meant to be tight. Should the gachen choose to attack, they will find passage difficult.” Tollak laughed. “It’s too dark for you to see, but surprises line the tunnel.”
Cahal planted his feet, arms ready. “What kind of surprises?”
Tollak clutched his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Oh, spikes, barricades, things of such nature.” His eyes sparkled. He lifted his palms. “Those are for intruders, not guests. For you, there will be no surprises. You have my word as an official of the royal guard.”
Cahal went first, motioning us to join him. He had to lie sideways and shimmy along. I waited until he was through and a glimmer of light shone in the distance. The walls closed in around me. My chest tightened. I gulped for air and hurried toward the light. Once free, I faltered as I stood, gasping.
Declan rushed to me. “Are you all right?”
“I just…need…to catch…my breath.” Doubled over, hands on my knees, I panted while Declan patted my back.
“Wow,” Ryann gasped. “This is amazing.”
Cahal grunted something like agreement.
Once I collected myself, I looked about the room. A wooden railing spanned the space across from where we now stood. I inched closer, noting the long drop. The railing, tall enough to prevent the pech from falling, wasn’t sufficient for us. I kept a safe distance as I peered over the edge, backing up further when I began to swoon.
“The heart of the Tower.” Tollak waved his hand, palm up, as though presenting something special. And it was. Openings such as the one we gazed through lined all four walls, revealing pech going about their business.
It must be like standing on the terrace of an inner-city apartment. Stairways lined the walls like fire escapes. But if this were the city, I’d see sky. I struggled to wrap my brain around it—I was not looking out but into the center of the tower.
“Incredible! You can’t even see the top.” Ryann leaned over the rail, and I clenched my hands, fighting the urge to pull her back.
“This way.” Tollak gestured for us to follow through a section of railing he opened like a gate.
As I neared, my surroundings swam about. Declan put his arm around me to steady me, keeping me close to the inside wall. His protective touch sent a warm sensation coursing through my body, making his guidance all the more necessary. We descended a long stairway, passing many similar openings beyond the wall. When we reached the last set of stairs and the ground floor was a reasonable distance, my feet stabilized and Declan released me.
The four of us emerged into the center of the ground floor. Booths with jewelry, ceramics, tools, weapons, and food stood in clusters, forming a market. Pech stopped and stared, openmouthed, as we walked by, and I drew in my shoulders, wishing to shrink to their size. A small child took one look at Cahal and ran screaming for his mother, eliciting more attention from others. Wide eyes survey
ed our group and traveled up and down Cahal’s height.
I tried to hide as we crossed the marketplace, but it wasn’t possible. We stood so much taller than everyone and everything around us. We stuck out like polar bears in Meer Kat Manor. I hunched over, failing miserably at making myself smaller as we ascended a staircase. We arrived in an empty room similar to the one we’d left. I relaxed slightly then tensed again when we approached yet another narrow hallway we would have to crawl through. It appeared we were returning to where we’d come without having turned around.
Chapter Twenty-One
◊◊◊
WHEN WE EMERGED FROM the tunnel, I recovered in another strange room. Smoke poured from a cauldron and various pots on a long counter. It reminded me of the smithy at the museum I went to in third grade. And a laboratory. A strange hybrid of the two. Another pech with long, red hair tied in a braid flitted about, tossing items into the pots.
“Pepin!” Tollak’s booming voice almost knocked me over.
“Oh!” Pepin tipped over a pot. A small fire flared up. He extinguished it by throwing sandy material over it, but more pots toppled in the process.
Tollak turned toward us and rolled his eyes. “That runt is softer than a molting squashbug.” He pointed at Pepin. “This is what happens to pech who fail to perform well at the Turnering av Stryke.”
Pepin dropped the items he’d collected into a large basin and waved a dismissive hand toward it. “I’ll clean it later.” He neared us, wiping his fingers on his apron. He was clean shaven, unlike the bearded men I’d passed. With the apron and the braid, he more closely resembled the women, despite his furry unibrow and stout frame. “My apologies. Pepin at your service.” He bowed and pounded his fist against his chest.
Ryann introduced us, and we imitated the greeting.
“Drochaid led them here,” Tollak grumbled.
Pepin beamed, revealing sparkling white teeth. “Truly?”
Tollak rolled his eyes again. “I must return to my post. I leave you with Drochaid’s creator.” He waved his hand and bowed slightly in Pepin’s direction in mock reverence. “Return to me within eleven hours. Fail, and you will not be allowed to leave.” After bowing and pounding his chest, he clomped away, his rigid body swaying like a metronome—ahem, like a metro gnome. I laughed.
All eyes trained on me, eyebrows raised. Why must I find humor at the most inappropriate times! “Sorry.” Must sober up.
Humor gone. Tollak’s words hit me. What if we got stuck here? Perhaps we should leave now to avoid entrapment. I checked Drochaid. No glow. Nothing. Drochaid’s dormant state must mean we were in the right place. For now.
“May I?” Pepin stepped forward with a hand out. “May I see Drochaid?” He spoke wistfully, as if it were a long lost family member.
“Sure.” I removed the amulet and handed it to him. He ran a finger over the circular indent in the center. As soon as Declan began speaking, my mistake was clear. I couldn’t understand a word. “Please.” I reached for Drochaid. “I need it back.”
Pepin cocked his head and wrinkled his bushy unibrow. The fuzzy caterpillar straightened and Pepin passed me the amulet. “You don’t speak Ariboslian? You spoke it earlier. Did Drochaid enable you?” He reached his hand out. “May I?”
“Yes.” He didn’t know? I knelt, holding it out for his inspection.
“How is it you found me?”
“The arrows pointed us in this direction.” I searched his face for understanding. Finding none, I added, “They glow.”
Other than a couple slow blinks, his face remained unchanged. He didn’t seem to know much about his invention. Why did it bring us here, to him? Was he to join us? How would he be helpful? He was puny, even by pech standards, shorter than Tollak and almost one-third his width.
For a moment neither of us moved. Then Pepin leaned in. “I must confess, I’m not entirely sure how it works.”
I fought the impulse to say, “Duh.”
“How is that?” Ryann asked. “You created it.”
“I forged a transportation amulet to allow inter-realm travel. The only difference was the materials used and the design on the face.”
“But the language translation and guidance?” Ryann asked. “You, the creator, are unaware of such features?”
He smiled up at us, hands clasped behind him. “Yes. I made what I knew how to make, an amulet allowing passage through the megalith, nothing more. I am unaware as to how Drochaid does more, other than my belief that the One True God made it so. The real mystery,” Pepin lowered his voice, “is why it led you back to me.”
I shrugged. “Maybe you’re supposed to join us.”
“Me?” His eyes grew bigger. He jabbed a stubby thumb toward himself. “Why should I join you?”
“Perhaps your task is incomplete,” Ryann suggested. “Drochaid led us here. You are a believer. What is it you are currently doing for God?”
Pepin’s face flushed, almost matching his hair. “You make a good point. I am not allowed to speak of God. But I should try.”
“They know you are a believer?” Declan asked. “And they let you live?”
“Well.” Pepin cleared his throat. “They had little choice. As with any who fail to bow down to Torsten, the god of stone, or worse, who profess belief in the One True God, I was sentenced to execution. They threw me in the bowels of the tower to be devoured by the uilebheist. But my God was with me and I prevailed.” He held his right hand in a fist in front of his face, pinched the fingers of his left, pulled it back to his face, squinted one eye, and released his pinched fingers. He dropped his hands and smiled wide. “A well-aimed pebble, with the slingshot God helped me smuggle in, proved fatal to the beast.”
“You defeated a uilebheist?” Declan’s eyes traveled the short distance from Pepin’s feet to his head.
“With a pebble?” Ryann added.
Cahal’s eyebrows rose.
“All is possible with the One True God.” Pepin beamed.
Though I had never heard of a uilebheist, Pepin didn’t appear quite as small as he had a moment ago. His presence outweighed his body.
“They had to let you go.” Ryann spoke as if entranced.
“Correct.” Pepin grinned. “The law must prevail.”
“You must join us on our quest,” Cahal said.
“Aye,” Ryann and Declan both agreed.
Somehow, I found their eagerness threatening. Did they think Pepin was worthier than I to partake in my quest? I tried to disentangle myself from the sudden jealousy snaring me. When all eyes aimed in my direction as if waiting for my approval, I nodded.
Pepin glanced at each of us in turn and sighed deeply. “I’d need to pack some things.”
****
We took a nap while Pepin prepared for the journey. When he woke us, ready to go, I wanted to return to Tollak. But since no one else worried about being trapped here and Drochaid remained dormant, I was overruled. Instead, we followed Pepin to the gymnasium to watch the Turnering av Stryke.
We arrived for the boulder toss. Many young pech competed to determine who could throw a large boulder furthest. The pech with the least distance was taken out of the running. Those who fared better continued with larger boulders. Their faces grew crimson, contorting with effort as they released exaggerated grunts, groans, and growls. It struck me as hilarious. I doubled over, tears coursing down my face with laughter. When I sat back up, I found myself surrounded by disapproving eyes and grumbles. My smile faded, and I scooted toward Declan.
I tried to contain myself by averting my attention to the crowd. They went nuts no matter what the outcome. When a pech did well, they cheered. When they failed, they booed. Both sounded the same. Only the body language differed. Hands rose in the air for the cheers. For the boos, the hands rose to the mouth to amplify the sound.
Antsy, I squirmed in my seat. If only I had a watch, a clock, or even the sun to clue me in as to how much time had g
one by. I needed to do something other than sit here. My stomach rumbled. “Can we get something to eat?”
Pepin nodded. “Follow me.”
He led us through a sea of merchants. Since he was a slower guide than Tollak, I had more time to glance about. Behind the counter of one kiosk sat a female with white hair in a tight bun. She scowled at me as I passed. A sign I couldn’t read hung in front. What was she selling? Nothing was there.
I scooted closer to our guide. “Pepin, what was that shop? There’s nothing for sale.”
“A reincarnation shop.”
“What’s that?”
“If someone wants to guarantee their station in the next life, they purchase it.” He puffed his cheeks. “Most pech believe if we lead a good, strong life pleasing to the god of stone, he will bless us with strength and riches in our next life. If we haven’t, we can buy it.”
“Purchase your next life? That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Pepin led us to a booth where we bought soup and bread. We found empty tables to sit nearby. The similarity to a mall food court reminded me of Stacy. Was she still searching for me, wondering where I’d gone, if I was still alive? She must’ve given up on ever seeing me again by now.
“Is something wrong?” Declan asked.
I shook my head and refocused on my food. I wasn’t quite sure what the soup consisted of. Root vegetables and some type of meat, seasoned with enough salt to give it a nice flavor. Surprisingly delicious.
The thought of the food being “surprisingly delicious” amid short, red-haired creatures reminded me of a Lucky Charms cereal commercial. I chuckled aloud as the Lucky Charms leprechaun sang in my brain in his Irish lilt. I stopped laughing when I noticed all the eyes on me.
“We must go.” Pepin rose to return his empty dishes. “We have a little over an hour left.”
“How do you know how much time we have? Do you have a watch?”
The face everyone made in my direction when they hadn’t a clue what I’d just said came over Pepin. “A watch? You mean a lookout? How is that related to time keeping?”