by David Hodges
Faron stopped speaking and everyone in the room shifted their attention to her. All of them shared a somber expression. Elisedd, Fíodor, Alviva, Bjarke, Uschi, and Coinín were all there.
Elisedd went to Hazel and gave her a big hug as did the others.
Alviva shared tears with Hazel as they embraced.
Hazel recognized several of the other people in the room. There were Elisedd’s friends, Leland and Arnie, as well as the others from the mines.
“As you were saying Faron,” said Fíodor.
Faron spoke. “I recognize that there are things that could have been done differently, things that I could have done differently that may have prevented all this, and I’m truly sorry.”
Arnie said angrily, “You’re sorry? If we knew about the Redcoats, the Creachs... if we had any idea, we could have prepared ourselves! You should have told us!”
Faron looked down and shook his head. “I know that now.”
Fíodor said, “It’s no use dwelling on our mistakes. We have to come up with a plan. We have to strike back before it’s too late.”
Faron said, “We can’t just go back there. They have the Spheres, the Ladder, and everyone in the village held hostage.”
Fíodor said, “Precisely... they’ll only make more weapons, more armor, for more soldiers. They’ll be too powerful to fight back if we wait.”
Faron said, “They’re already too powerful.”
Arnie shouted, “Why should we put our fate in your hands!” Then he pointed toward Bjarke, Uschi, Alviva, and Coinín. “Why should we trust any of you Creachs! How do we know you’re not here on Aatu’s orders?” He walked up to them and put a finger to Coinín’s chest. “On your father’s orders.”
“Shut it, Arnie!” yelled Elisedd. “We couldn’t have made it out without their help, especially Coinín’s. We can trust them, we have to trust each other... we’ve all got family, friends, who need our help, and we’re all that’s left.”
“That’s a touching notion, isn’t it,” said Arnie sarcastically.
“Get out!” shouted Faron.
Arnie was shocked, and in a more subdued manner he said, “I’m sorry, I just...”
“No, everyone... leave. We’ll carry on this conversation another time,” said Faron as he began massaging his temples.
Hazel and Fergus remained in the room with Faron and Fíodor.
“I’m sorry about that Hazel,” said Faron.
“It’s alright.” She realized she had not yet seen Zofia. She did not remember seeing her in the mines either. She asked Faron delicately, “Did Zofia make it out?”
He shook his head.
Fíodor said, “Faron, I understand that the odds are against us, but how will that change for the better?”
“I don’t know yet, but there must be something we haven’t thought of.”
Hazel toyed with the comb hanging from her neck as she pondered the options.
Fíodor noticed, and asked, “Do you have the shield with you?”
Fergus replied, “I have it.”
“Could you get it for us?”
“Aye, I’ll fetch it.” Fergus went down the hall into one of the bedrooms and quickly returned with the shield in hand. He handed it to Fíodor.
“How did it lead you to the Sphere?”
Hazel said, “It was almost like a compass, but instead of pointing us north, it showed us the Sphere.”
Fergus added, “It was as if the Sphere was a beacon.”
“Have you tried it since you found the Sphere?”
Hazel shook her head.
Fíodor said, “I wonder if it would still show us where it is. It would be helpful to know if Marlow decides to move it, could you try it?”
“Of course,” said Hazel. She removed the comb from her neck and looked for the reflection of Fuil in the holes on the back. When she found them, she held the comb to the shield, and watched it change before sliding it into the shield. The shield’s face changed, and they stared down upon it.
The red fluttering spot was not far from the center. “That’s odd.”
“What is it?” said Faron.
“It looks as close as it did in the village,” she began to worry. “You don’t think they’ve followed us here.”
Faron said, “No... it wouldn’t make any sense for them to bring the Sphere if they did.”
“Maybe that’s as far as it shows.” Fergus went to the window and said, “Hold on, it’s pointing south of here, not east.”
Hazel remembered what Meriel had told her. “My mother was here before her voyage. Meriel told me she was here to recruit sailors for the expedition. What if she came back here? What if she hid something else here?”
“What? Another Sphere?” asked Fergus.
Faron said, “There are only three left, all of them in Marlow’s possession, but it could be something else.”
“Like what?” asked Hazel.
“I have no idea.”
“Why don’t we find out.”
Hazel, Fergus, Faron, and Meriel as their guide, had ridden south past the harbor and onto a small peninsula that wrapped around it. Fíodor stayed behind, and they chose not to bring any of the others so as not to draw attention to themselves.
The riding was far from comfortable for Hazel, but she could manage it as she held onto Faron.
They rode for less than a quarter hour and stopped at a narrow causeway on the water’s rocky edge. There was a small isle at the end of the causeway across a channel of water.
Hazel looked down at the shield and said, “We’re close. It looks like it’s on that isle.”
Meriel replied, “That’s Fort Isle, not but a couple old ruins there now, and a light for the ships. C’mon then.” She rode onto the causeway.
Hazel looked down at the water on either side of the narrow walkway as they trotted behind her. She caught a glimpse of a fish’s scales.
Shortly after they got off the causeway, they passed by an old stone building, it had no roof, but the walls were mostly intact.
“Is that a chapel?” asked Fergus
“Aye, an ancient one, it’s Norse, built on top of an older Celtic one.”
The shield was still pointing ahead. Hazel showed Faron, and they continued toward it. There was a circular stone building in the distance.
“Is that the fort?”
“Aye, Derby Fort,” said Meriel.
“I think it’s there,” said Hazel as Faron quickened the trot of their horse. When they arrived at the fort, she could see that the walls were taller than she realized.
Faron helped her off her horse and gave her a hand as she limped into the roofless structure.
The spots on her shield were almost lined up, just a bit farther.
She continued ahead past the crumbling inner walls to a window with a cannon aimed out of it. The blue feathers in the center of the shield twisted and turned purple.
Hazel looked down at the cannon. “Here,” she said, confused.
Fergus walked up to the Cannon and examined it. “It’s old.”
“They aren’t in use, just here for show,” said Meriel. “When the harbor needed defending, this was the perfect lookout. Now it’s just used to help guide the ships. That reminds me, someone will be here to light the lantern before dark. We should be quick.”
Hazel set to examining the cannon. She saw nothing unusual about it. After several minutes of looking for anything out of the ordinary, she said, “It should be right here.”
Faron said, “If your mother hid something here on her return, she might have been in a rush to get back to Talamh, perhaps she didn’t have time for any elaborate measures.” Faron’s arms changed and he pushed on the cannon. It slowly tipped over and rested against the stone wall at an angle.
“You think she buried it?”
“It’s what I would do,” said Faron.
Hazel began digging with the others until they reached something hard. She helped clear a bit more dirt and saw
a flat wooden surface.
Hazel’s heart started to beat faster.
She helped pull it out of the ground with a big heave, then sat and stared at the chest in front of her as she caught her breath. A simple padlock kept it shut.
Faron said, “Go on, Hazel.”
She lifted her comb and let it change before pushing it into the lock and twisting it. The lock opened, and she removed it from the chest. She took a deep breath, then flipped the lid open.
A mess of netting and fish scales was wrapped up in a tight ball. It smelled strongly of the salty sea. Hazel lifted the heavy clump out of the chest and set it on the grass beside her. There was nothing else in the chest.
“What on earth,” said Fergus.
“I know what that is... it’s a sail,” said Meriel.
“What sort of sail is made of scales?” asked Fergus.
“An underwater one.”
“Come again?” said Fergus.
“We use them in the currents to pull us when the wind isn’t blowing in our favor. I know just what to do with this. Come with me.”
After replacing the dirt and the cannon, and securing the chest to one of the horses, they rode back over the causeway to the opposite side of the narrow peninsula. When they reached a stretch of sand, Meriel stopped and got off her horse. She took off her boots, grabbed the scaly clump and said, “C’mon, we need to get it wet.”
Hazel followed her past the small breaking waves into the chilly water, then watched as she dropped it in. The clump immediately began to expand into a massive, flat swath of scales. She could see now that the scales had a reddish tint to them as they shimmered in the water.
Then Hazel saw it.
A Sphere.
Large and silver, suspended in the water amongst the scales. She waded over to it through the net and lifted it up. It was as heavy as the Sphere in the cavern.
She looked to Fergus and Faron, who were as bewildered as her.
Meriel said, “How is this possible?”
Faron replied, “There’s only one explanation.”
Hazel remembered Ayalon’s last words, “We’re not alone,” she thought aloud. “That’s what Ayalon meant, she found other Athraithe there!”
“Hazel,” said Fergus as he scooped something out of the water. He examined it. “A book.” He handed it to Hazel.
Hazel traded him the Sphere and took the wet leather from his hand. There was Fuil coursing over the spine. The water had beaded on it, and with a light shake, it shed off easily.
“That’s fish skin on the cover, herring.”
Hazel flipped open the cover and saw the first page, a sheet of parchment.
An ornate frame of silver and gold ink bordered the page. There were large words written, Journey to the New World. She recognized the handwriting immediately; it was her mother’s. Written discretely on the bottom corner of the page, there was a name. Sophia Plantagenet.
It was not a book, it was a journal.
She turned to the next page and found it blank, except for a coppery border that was similar to the title page’s, it was thinner and less ornate. She turned to the next page, it looked the same. She flipped through the rest of the pages.
They were all blank, save for the illuminated borders.
Hazel could not hide her disappointment.
Faron said, “The writing must be hidden, Hazel. We’ll decipher the Bheochan, don’t worry.”
Hazel closed the notebook and ran her fingers over the Fuil on the spine, then said, “If she met others, Athraithe, maybe they could help us.”
“It’s an ocean away, Hazel,” replied Faron.
She nodded. He was right. It could take months to find out, and they might return empty handed.
Faron continued, “But it may be the only choice we have.” He stared out at the ocean, and the sun setting over the coastline. “Right now, we all need to rest.”
Meriel went to collect the scaly net from the water and Fergus joined her.
Hazel stood with Faron, staring out onto the Irish Sea with him. In her eagerness to find out what her mother had hidden. She did not stop to consider that she was in the sea for the first time in her life. It was beautiful, more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.
As she looked out along the stunning shoreline toward the setting sun, she wondered what her mother saw out there, what stories she would find in her journal, where they might take her.
Faron said, “You know, Hazel, amidst all this loss, it seems I’ve gained something. Zofia and I wanted children, we tried, but we were never able. I told myself I wasn’t missing out on much, and I began to believe it... until I met you.” He took Hazel by the shoulders and said, “Your mother would’ve loved you so much.”
He wiped a tear from Hazel’s face. “No matter what happens now, know this, Hazel, you are my family. We have each other.”
Hazel nodded, then said, “How could anyone tear apart all those families? How could anyone be so evil?”
Faron sighed, “Evil is a rare thing, and it cannot be explained... but fear is all around us, and it compels terrible actions. Marlow is full of fear, fear of an inescapable fact, that there are things he cannot control. He is giving into that fear as so many men do. Greed, hatred, indifference to suffering... all branches of the same rotting tree.” Faron shook his head. “Can you guess the Celtic word for man?”
Hazel stared at Faron, confused.
“Fear. I never gave it much thought, but it seems so appropriate now. We fancy ourselves as divine creatures, superior to all other beasts, those driven only by survival, by fear... yet we are the most fearful creatures of all.”
“If it’s so innate, so compelling. How do we resist it?”
Faron replied softly, “There is a way. I think you know the answer.” He hugged Hazel and held her close, and she felt his warmth spread over her. It was full of care, full of compassion... full of love. She knew.
EPILOGUE
JOHN
John stared down at the beach below. The battered ship looked worse from afar than it did up close.
He had never imagined how good land could feel after they reached the island through a nightmarish storm. The voyage had taken longer than expected.
He turned around into the beating sun and walked alongside a dense green jungle. At his other side, straight rows of spindly trees stood evenly spaced apart. Clusters of large oblong shaped pods hung from them. They were varying shades of yellow, orange, and red that were in stark contrast to the surrounding greenery. He went to one of the trees where a basket was on the ground. Several of the oblong pods had been torn apart and laid scattered around the base of the tree. John knelt down and picked up a handful of brown seeds from the basket. He recognized them and sniffed them to be certain.
Cocoa seeds.
He thought of her as he had so many times to take his mind off the lurching ship, rolling wave after wave. The exact details of her face had already started to fade, but he could never forget her smile and the happiness that wrapped those hazel eyes.
John was startled by a loud crack from within the trees.
A man with a whip in his hand was standing over a boy who was on all fours. The boy’s skin was darker than the seeds in John’s hand.
The man cracked the whip over his back again.
John gasped and dropped the seeds from his hand as he watched the boy.
The boy had hardly flinched.
John had seen the slaves all over the island, cowering at the sight of him and the other soldiers when they walked by, their faces full of misery.
This boy’s gaze was different, he looked straight back at John. His eyes were full of fire.
END
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