HIDDEN IN TIME

by Longley, Barbara

  His mother went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I understand, Brian. I truly do, but have faith.”

  “Faith? In what?” He shook his head. “Best that I not dwell on the possibilities for now. Goodnight, Ma.” Brian set off for home, and his tears mingled with the cold rain hitting his face. He forced his mind to go blank, because if he thought, he’d hope, and if he hoped, he was bound to hurt even more when things didn’t turn out as he wished.

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  Brian followed Fionn and Alpin out of the village to the east. The council had rendered their decision the night before, and now he and Ceann Carraig were being taken to Tir na nÓg to plead the clan’s case before the fae kings. His pulse raced just thinking about facing the demigods.

  Even though he’d mentally prepared himself for any eventuality, Brian had been surprised by the council’s decision to allow the magic to fade. Now, everything hinged upon the whims of a race of beings who had no reason to care one way or the other what happened to him or his clan. It fell to him to get the fae to agree to his people’s plan. “How exactly does this shifting to the fae realm work?”

  Fionn slowed his pace to walk beside him. “Alpin will open a doorway between the earthly realm and Tiirn Ail—the Other World, Summerland, whatever ye wish to call the fae realm. We’ll walk through. ’Tis that easy.”

  “How can Alpin be sure we’ll land where we’re supposed to?” he pressed.

  Ceann Carraig muttered something under his breath and tightened the grip he had on his walking staff. Clearly the druid was as nervous about the prospect of entering the fae realm as he was.

  “Tir na nÓg is where I live, and I have made the Journey of a Single Step more times than I can count. I know the way to many dimensional planes, and I’ve never failed to find my way home.” Alpin came to a halt beside a trail leading upward into the surrounding mountains. “This will do.”

  “A Journey of a Single Step is what the Tuatha dé Danann call it when they travel through time and space,” Fionn added.

  A ring of stones stood off to one side, placed there by the ancients who’d lived on this island long before the wizard Amergin led the Milesians out of Gaul to settle in Éire. Amergin defeated the Tuatha, and he was human—a renowned wizard, but a mortal nonetheless. If Amergin could accomplish such a feat, surely Brian and Ceann Carraig could convince the fae to honor the clan’s wishes.

  Alpin’s gestures caused a ripple in the air inside the stone circle, drawing Brian’s attention. He’d seen the northern lights before, and his mother had explained what they were. The soft, undulating colors reminded him of what his mother had called the aurora borealis, only this was not so dark green but more a display of pale greens and pinks. His stomach flipped as the anomaly grew taller. “What do we need to do?

  “Alpin will go first, then you two, and I’ll follow. Step through as you would any other door.” Fionn pointed to the wavering air and moved out of the way.

  Alpin disappeared from sight, and then Ceann Carraig vanished. Brian’s gut crimped. His mouth went dry, and he froze. His entire life had been spent in one place. He’d never left the valleys, much less entered an entirely different plane of existence. What if something went wrong?

  Fionn placed a hand at the center of Brian’s back and pushed him forward. “Go on, oh mighty chieftain,” he taunted. What are ye afraid of?”

  “I’ve just witnessed two men disappear into a rippling wall of light, and I’ve no idea what lies on the other side. How do I know I’ll be returned home once we’re finished? The old stories tell of people who’ve disappeared, taken by the fae, never to be seen again. Then there are tales of others who vanished, only to return decades later, looking as if they hadn’t aged a day.”

  “I can’t imagine why the fae would want to keep ye. I give ye my word ye will be returned.” Fionn pushed him again. “Get on with ye.”

  “Is this how you trained the mighty Fianna, by goading?” Not waiting for an answer, Brian sucked in a breath, held it, and stepped through. A whooshing sensation assailed him, and the landscape rushed past him in flashes of light. He closed his eyes until the disorienting feeling ceased and he once again found himself on solid ground. Alpin and Ceann Carraig stood nearby. He let the breath go just as Fionn joined them.

  He and his companions had arrived at the base of a lush green hill under an intense blue sky. At the top of the hill stood a circular structure, open on all sides with a domed roof held up by columns. The edifice appeared to be made entirely of pure white stone.

  A variety of hardwood and evergreen trees surrounded the hill, and a path beginning in the woods terraced its way up the side. The vistas were unlike anything he’d ever beheld, so verdant and vibrant it almost hurt his eyes to take it all in. “Is that where we’re going?” he asked, pointing to the top of the hill.

  “It is.” Alpin nodded. “’Tis Cnoc na Teamhrach, the Hill of Tara, only in this dimension rather than on the earthly plane. ’Tis the seat of kings, both Irish and fae, though Éire no longer has kings.” He shrugged. “Same hill, different perspective. Once we reach the rotunda, the council will join us.”

  “How will they know we’ve arrived?” Ceann Carraig asked.

  “Magic,” Fionn said. “Too complicated to explain. Come. The sooner we begin, the sooner ye can return home.”

  By the time the four of them reached the seat of kings, several Tuatha dé Danann men and women were already there. All of them were similar in looks to Alpin—fair, lithe, and blond. Their glacier-blue glances touched upon Brian and the druid, mildly curious, but also haughty. Some openly grimaced at the sight of them.

  Within the rotunda, there were raised, throne-like chairs of the same white stone set at each of the cardinal directions, and the spaces between the thrones held tiered benches of oak with inlaid Celtic knots of silver and gold along the edges. Brian discovered the stone of the rotunda was not pure white after all but held spidery veins of gold.

  A man appeared out of thin air, drawing everyone’s attention. He wore a long flowing robe that shimmered like the rippling air they’d stepped through. The newcomer wore a circlet of gold upon his head, and he carried a staff that held a glittering crystal the size of a duck’s egg at the top. The assembled fae bowed to him. To be on the safe side, Brian also bowed.

  “Must be Dagda Mór, their high king,” Ceann Carraig whispered as he too bowed.

  “Find your places. The others will arrive momentarily,” the king said.

  In the next few moments, the remaining council members and another king arrived. His crown was made of pearls, coral and shells from the sea, marking him as King Lir Beneath the Sea. A woman who’d arrived with the king positioned herself to his right. Might she be Lir’s half-fae granddaughter, Boann? Her light-blond hair held a touch of red, setting her apart. Two more kings popped into the circle, bowed to the high king, and took their respective thrones. Alpin indicated where Brian and Ceann Carraig were to sit, and they too took their places.

  Dagda Mór thumped his staff on the stone floor. “Let us begin,” he called in a sonorous, booming voice. “Fionn MacCumhaill, grandson of King Nuada of the Silver Hand, come forward and give us an accounting of your absence from Tir na nÓg.”

  Fionn strode to the center of the floor. He bowed first to Dagda Mór, and then to each of the other three kings. “As ye know, in humankind’s third century, the mortal kings of Éire did wage war against each other. Those who sided against our high king, Cormac MacArt, did so out of jealousy and greed. They knew my elite army of Fianna was far superior to their own forces, and that the Fianna were loyal to our high king. The other kings feared my Fianna and MacArt were becoming too powerful.”

  From this launching point, Fionn went on and on about the wrongs committed against him, his king, and his clan. Worse, he described in detail his own heroic exploits during that war. Brian groaned, dropped his chin to his chest and smacked his forehead into his palm. Gods, this w
as going to take forever, and the fae already knew their history. What was Fionn thinking?

  Another thump on the floor resounded. “Enough, Fionn. We do not need you to give us a history lesson. As you well know, we were there. This council expected an accounting of your time spent with your clan. That is the matter at hand, not a recitation of your exploits. I would hear from the impatient mortal now. You are dismissed.”

  The impatient mortal? Brian lifted his gaze to the king’s, only to find Dagda Mór’s baleful scowl fixed upon him. Were the king’s eyes glowing? Fionn smirked at Brian as he returned to his spot.

  “Come forward, Brian, son of Sloan, grandson of Braedan and chieftain to na Baiscne. What have you to say?” The king arched a brow and leveled a disdainful look his way. “I advise you to make your speech more interesting than Fionn’s repetitious history lesson.”

  Brian rose from his spot and made his way on shaky legs to the center of the floor. There he bowed to each of the kings as Fionn had. He straightened, faced the high king and tried to slow the breakneck speed of his pounding heart enough to breathe.

  “To this court, our case is a matter of meddling by the fae—Alpin to be specific—into mortal affairs. So you feel justified in meddling yet again by deciding our fate for us. To na Baiscne, further interference by the fae in our affairs is an insult and an unwelcome intrusion.” His declaration caused glances to dart around the room like hummingbirds moving from flower to flower. Some brows rose, others dropped, and a good number in attendance pursed their lips. At his own peril, he continued.

  “The meddling began during a time of war. With kings fighting kings, and Tuatha fighting Tuatha, ye can hardly blame Fionn for wanting to protect his clan and kin. What did farmers and shepherds have to do with battles fought over who could piss the farthest?” His words were not received well but being separated from his wife wasn’t going over well with him either.

  “With your own people divided, exactly who should Fionn have asked for permission to protect his people? Besides, those of us who live in the hidden vales today are many, many generations removed from the third century, so let us lay that history to rest and speak of it no more. It is irrelevant.”

  The king’s eyes were indeed glowing. Only now the irises also swirled like gathering storm clouds. “Go on.”

  He wouldn’t get anywhere by cowing; somehow Brian sensed that. “We are nothing to the Tuatha dé Danann. We’ve not had any interactions with you or with Fionn MacCumhaill since the day our valleys were set apart from the rest of the world. Though we keep to the old ways and pay homage to the descendants of Danu, in any practical sense, ye are nothing to us either. Ye do not have the authority to determine our future for us.”

  He gazed around at the kings and council members. “What becomes of us will not impact the Tuatha in the least, so why do ye even wish to control the outcome? Our head druid and I have come to ye with a plan which we believe will address the wrongs of long ago and suit the Tuatha dé Danann as well as it will serve our clan.”

  The high king’s expression was one of affronted surprise as he glared at Brian for several moments. His was not the only glare piercing Brian’s hide. Then Dagda Mór grunted and surveyed the assembled fae. “I believe we’ve heard enough. We shall now deliberate.”

  Ceann Carraig raised his hand and stood up. “Begging your pardon, your majesty, but do ye not wish to hear the plan first before deliberating?”

  “Nay. As it will not impact our lives in the least, I see no point. Alpin, remove these two from my sight.” The high king waved his hand at them in obvious dismissal.

  Oh gods. This did not bode well for their plan. “Wait,” Brian called out. “I claim the right of kinship.”

  “With whom, mortal?” Dagda Mór’s voice rumbled like thunder, and he arched a brow.

  “With Boann, granddaughter of King Lir Beneath the Sea, and with Fionn MacCumhaill, grandson to King Nuada of the Silver Hand.”

  “How so?”

  Brian tried to catch Boann’s attention, hoping for a sign of support, but she seemed to find something about the floor—or was it her shoes?—immensely fascinating. He swallowed a few times. “Boann’s father is wed to my wife’s sister, and that makes us kin. Fáelán is also of our clan, and he is one of Fionn MacCumhaill’s Fianna. Fionn, as you well know, is blood kin to many of our people. We require their aid for as long as it takes to implement our plan.”

  “Hmph. At least you did not bore us with a recitation of who begat whom. Alpin, take these mortals away.”

  Alpin stepped toward him, and Brian pointed at him. “And Alpin. We also claim the right of kinship with Alpin, who is blood kin to Fionn MacCumhaill, therefore blood kin to our clan. Also, my wife and her family have a bit of Tuatha dé Danann blood running through their veins. I’m sure with a little effort, ye can discern whose blood that might be.”

  “Enough.” Dagda Mór thumped his staff on the floor again. “Be gone.” A bolt of lightning struck the ground just outside the rotunda. Thunder boomed overhead, yet the sky was still perfectly clear.

  Alpin grabbed Brian by the arm, tugged him away from the center of the floor and hurried him out of the rotunda. Fionn and Ceann Carraig followed.

  “Gods, ye either have balls the size of boulders or ye’ve a death wish.” Fionn barked out a laugh as they made their way down the hill. “Were ye thinking to irritate the council and kings enough that they’d wish to have naught to do with ye and our clan?”

  In hindsight, he wasn’t so sure he should’ve pushed quite so hard. His legs went a little wobbly at the thought of the lightning bolt that could have been aimed at him rather than at the ground. How petty and vindictive were fae kings? “That seemed to be what ye were aiming for. Do ye think it’ll work?” he asked.

  “No telling,” Fionn muttered as he strode down the path. “I’ve always been a thorn in Dagda Mór’s side. His army fought against the Fianna and our fae allies. He lost a goodly number of warriors.”

  “Is that why ye went on and on about the wars?”

  “I do enjoy needling him.” Fionn glanced at him. “Apparently arrogance is a clan trait, aye?”

  Had he been arrogant? Fed up was more like it. Why should he and his clan be at the mercy of the fae? “Ceann Carraig did not speak,” Brian commented. “I’m certain he could have smoothed their ruffled feathers had he been given the chance.”

  The druid followed along the path behind Brian. “I’m not complaining, laddie. Though I would have liked to explain our plan to the fae, I don’t know that I could have found my voice. Ye were right to mention that what happens to us will not affect them. They cannot deny us kinship rights, can they? That is sacred to the Tuatha. Perhaps they’ll see ’tis best to let us take care of ourselves.”

  Alpin remained silent as they returned to the same spot where they’d stepped into the fae realm. He performed the same gestures and the door of light appeared. Alpin stepped through, and Brian followed.

  “Something on your mind?” Brian asked once they stood within the ancient ring of stones.

  Alpin frowned. “I am concentrating on the vibrational waves emanating from the council to see if I can discern the mood at present. The energy is volatile and varies greatly. You were impertinent to say the least, but some on the council found your forthright attitude refreshing. They respect you for your audacity. Interactions between mortals and the Tuatha generally involve a lot of groveling and fear.”

  “Who says I wasn’t fearful?” Brian arched a brow. “Was that Boann sitting to the right of King Lir?”

  “Aye.”

  Fionn and Ceann Carraig joined them an instant later. “What do we do now?” Ceann Carraig asked.

  “We wait,” Fionn said.

  “For how long?”

  “That I cannot say,” Fionn sighed. “A day, a century, there’s no way of telling with the fae. They do not die unless struck down by fae made weapons, so time to them is … irrelevant.”

  Brian wish
ed he’d had the chance to speak with Boann. She’d been the one who’d taken Grayce from him, and the fae princess was his best bet for bringing the two of them back together. He hadn’t brought up his personal grievance during his speech for fear of getting Boann into more trouble than she was already in for meddling.

  Filled with doubt, and second-guessing his actions when addressing the Tuatha dé Danann, Brian followed the other three back to the village. There he’d take up his ordinary duties as chieftain. Perhaps he should have begged the high king rather than doing his best to annoy him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Grayce refilled her coffee mug, thinking about what she had to do today versus what she wanted to do. Seeing as how she’d be flying out early tomorrow morning, packing should top her list. It didn’t. She glanced out the window. At present, the sky was overcast, but that wasn’t unusual. A little rain wouldn’t hurt her, and the need to return to Mahon Falls one last time tormented her at a visceral level.

  “What are you planning to do today?” her twin asked as if reading Grayce’s mind.

  “We could go shopping in Waterford,” Regan suggested as she put the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. “Then we can have lunch at Fáelán’s cousin’s restaurant after we’re done. Conan takes a bottle now, and I know Mom and Dad would love to look after him.”

  Grayce’s bruises were still bad enough to draw attention, and the plastic splint over her nose would cause even more. “I don’t really want to be out among crowds of people looking like I do.”

  If she visited the falls, maybe she’d find a rift between the realms. More likely she just needed to accept the inevitable and say goodbye. A lump rose to her throat. Dammit, I don’t want to say goodbye. I shouldn’t have to. “I think I’ll go for a hike.”

  “In this drizzle?” Meredith frowned. “Where to?”

  Heat rose to her face, and she stared into her coffee mug. “I haven’t decided.”