A Place Beyond The Map

by Samuel Thews

  Phinnegan stood in silence. He chewed his lip as he thought. What do I do now? Part of him wondered if the guardian was right, if he truly should not trust the two Faë. They did often seem to keep vital details to themselves, not sharing them with him unless they must. And then there were those looks that passed between the two. But what choice did he have? Howard had no idea how to get him home and at least the two Faë had a theory.

  “But what if they are right?” Phinnegan ventured quietly. “What if what they say is true and there is a way for me to go home?”

  “Highly unlikely,” the guardian said quickly and matter-of-factly. “I know of no way to get you home, nor have I ever known a Faë to look out for anyone’s interests but their own. Ever.”

  “But that doesn’t mean that they can’t be right.”

  “Possibly,” the guardian said, the heat draining slightly from its voice. “Well, what did they say? We’ll consider it together, you and I, Jack.”

  “Well, they spoke of the Passes between our worlds having narrowed. They said it is not easy to travel between the two and that it was beyond their power to send me back –“

  “Well that is definitely a truth,” the guardian scoffed.

  “But, they said they really wanted to help me,” Phinnegan continued, ignoring the interruption. “They think that they can send me home, just –“

  “Why,” the guardian interrupted once again. “Why do you suppose these Faë are so eager to help you? Quite unlike a Faë in my experience, and I have known a few of them in my time, which is not a short period, I trust you know.”

  The lie came so quickly to Phinnegan’s lips that perhaps he had stumbled upon some hidden truth.

  “It was one of them that sold me the magic beans.”

  “What?” the guardian said sharply. “Remorse from a Faë? This is very strange. Very strange indeed. Do you believe him?”

  “Yes, I recognized him.” Again the lie slipped from his tongue quickly, so quickly that he thought to embellish it. “I was quite angry at first, as you can imagine, but he…he umm, apologized. He wants to help.”

  “Ah, yes, well you would recognize him, wouldn’t you?” The guardian grew silent, appearing to think as its colors flashed from green to red to yellow to purple.” “It still seems strange to me. Tell me, Jack, what did these Faë suggest?

  Phinnegan swallowed and licked his lips.

  “They said they need the stone.”

  The guardian, for the first time since Phinnegan had laid eyes upon it, stopped swirling.

  “The…the stone,” the guardian stammered, its tone feeble and questioning. “M-my stone?” Phinnegan remained silent.

  The guardian swam slowly in the air, first right and then left, then back to the right, like a man would pace in his study. Phinnegan continued to hold his tongue, his eyes following the floating cloud that now bore the weight of his hopes of going home. When the guardian slowed and stopped, Phinnegan had pushed himself on his toes and leaned forward. When the voice came, it spoke only one word.

  “Impossible,” the tone flat and dispassionate.

  “But –“

  “No. It is impossible. I would not trust a Faë even under normal circumstances, but to allow them control of MY stone? It is unthinkable.” The guardian began to float to and fro again as it continued. “Besides, in all the centuries that I have guarded the stone, no one, not even one of my masters, has touched it. I am not certain of what would happen were it removed from its resting place. It is too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous? What do you mean?”

  “Well, as guardian, it is my job to protect the stone. Who’s to say what reactions are within me. For instance, earlier my alarms were set-off merely because you came in through the front door and not the side. No, no, even if I were to agree to this…this preposterous suggestion, I would not be held responsible for my own actions.”

  “But what if they are right? What if the stone can send me home?”

  “I’m sorry, Jack,” the guardian’s voice spoke flatly in his mind. “I cannot allow you to take the stone.”

  Phinnegan had no reply to what seemed to be the guardian’s final word. He walked over to the nearest iron stand bearing the bronze disk and gazed into the fire. The dancing flames of a fire tend to have a calming effect on those who gaze into their depths. Even a cat will sit and stare at a dancing flame, mesmerized by its beauty.

  The solitary tear falling on Phinnegan’s cheek made him squint his eyes.

  I am too old to cry.

  The guardian seemed to sense Phinnegan’s sadness, and it must have been sense as it could not see the tear on his cheek or the sag in his shoulders. It approached and stopped just behind Phinnegan’s shoulder.

  “You miss her don’t you, Jack?” the voice asked quietly. “Your mother, I mean. “ Phinnegan only nodded.

  Then, in that round chamber with domed ceiling, there could be heard the strangest sound, like the wind whistling down the chimney just before a storm. It seemed as though the guardian had sighed. Phinnegan found this rather human gesture somewhat comforting.

  “Do you truly want to leave poor Howard?” the guardian asked, the voice quavering as the words fluttered through Phinnegan’s mind.

  “No…it’s not that,” Phinnegan mumbled. “I just want to go home, to my mother. To my home.”

  The guardian floated behind Phinnegan, unmoving, but a circus of light as the cloud changed from a few orbs to many. Phinnegan continued to stare at the fire, and the guardian appeared to stare at Phinnegan. When the second tear fell onto Phinnegan’s cheek, the guardian moved closer, now hovering only a foot from Phinnegan’s back.

  “I’m sorry,” the guardian said. “But it is simply too dangerous. Besides, what makes these Faë so certain they can use the stone?”

  “Why couldn’t they?” Phinnegan managed to say. “Is it broken?”

  “Broken? Why, no, I do not believe so. Honestly, I am not quite sure what it does…”

  Phinnegan lifted his head and turned to glance at the guardian.

  “You mean you have been guarding this thing for all this time and you don’t even know what it is?”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true. My masters never thought to tell me.” Phinnegan faced the guardian.

  “Well I do. It’s a wishing stone, the largest I have ever seen. I’ve seen their magic with my own eyes. And this one is twenty times the size of the ones I have seen before. I know it can send me home.”

  The guardian floated back a few feet, creating some distance between itself and Phinnegan.

  “A wishing stone? Never heard of such a thing. Are you quite sure that is what it is?”

  Phinnegan ran past the guardian to the center of the chamber and placed his hand on the stone.

  “Now wait just –“ the guardian began, but Phinnegan cut him off.

  “Spirit, who is your master?” Just as in the court at Féradoon, the stone spoke. Again, a feminine voice, slow and melodic.

  My master is the Lord of Heronhawk.

  “The stone speaks?” the guardian’s voice asked incredulously. The guardian sped to Phinnegan’s side and hovered just above the stone.

  “Yes. They can speak, the wishing stones I mean.”

  “I see. Tell me wishing stone, if that is what you are, what powers have you?”

  Silence.

  “I don’t think it works that way,” Phinnegan said. “I believe you must be touching it like I am, and address it as ‘Spirit’.”

  “Hmmm. Well, ask it if it has the power to send you back to your world.”

  “I don’t know if it can answer such a specific question.”

  “Well if it can’t then it is probably not as powerful as these Faë told you that it was. Ask.”

  Phinnegan licked his lips and stared at the stone.

  “Spirit…can you…would you send me home?” The stone was silent for a moment, and then spoke.

  Yes, if the proper words are spoken.
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br />   Phinnegan, his eyes wide, placed a second hand on the stone.

  “Spirit, send me home!”

  Nothing happened. Phinnegan tried again.

  “Spirit, please send me home.”

  But again, nothing happened. Phinnegan’s shoulders sagged and his hands withdrew from the stone.

  “The proper words,” the guardian said softly in Phinnegan’s mind. And then again, the sound of wind whistling down the chimney.

  “Take it.”

  “What?” Phinnegan asked, his eyes fixed on the guardian.

  “Take it, I say,” the voice said quietly, but quickly sharpened. “But I warn you, I do not know what will happen if you try to take it. I can take no responsibility for my actions, for I fear they will be beyond my control.” The cloud reduced itself to a single orb and ceased its swirling, standing stark and still before Phinnegan.

  “Be careful, Jack. And don’t trust these Faë any more than you must. They seem to have told you a truth, but I wonder if it was the whole.”

  Phinnegan couldn’t speak, but the guardian seemed to recognize his silence for gratitude, the orb dipping slightly as though it nodded.

  Phinnegan reached his hands back up to the stone. At least he knew that touching it would not set off any alarms. He touched it gingerly with one hand and then the other. The stone was as smooth as glass, and cool to the touch. After a moment, he scooped the stone from its place on the pedestal. He took one slow step backwards, then a second and a third.

  “Anything?” he asked over his shoulder. A moment passed before the guardian answered.

  “No.”

  Phinnegan turned and walked roughly half the distance between the pedestal and the door that he had entered some time earlier. Here he stopped.

  “I guess we’re safe,” he said softly, marveling at the feel of the stone in his hands. It was not as heavy as he had expected.

  “It would seem so.” The guardian drifted away from where Phinnegan stood, its colors dimming slightly.

  “Visit me if you can, Jack?”

  “I promise,” Phinnegan said without hesitation. “Goodbye, Howard.”

  “Goodbye, Jack.”

  Phinnegan, a twinge of guilt tugging at his mind, continued his march towards the door. His soft-soled shoes made muffled thuds as he walked across the marble. He told himself that he had not quite stolen the stone. Humans are wont to rationalize. All in all, it went as well as he could have hoped.

  And then he crossed the black slate arc just before the door.

  A crash like thunder shook the room around him and he felt each reverberation rocking his very bones. When the guardian’s voice came, his mind screamed and he nearly fumbled the stone.

  “STOP! THIEF!”

  Phinnegan turned to see that the guardian had grown to a cloud twice the size of any it had been since he entered the room. Its color was a bright, violent red and the multitude of orbs pulsed with a fiery light while arcs of lightning jumped between them.

  “THIEF! RELEASE THE STONE!”

  Phinnegan wasted no time. The guardian had been right, there was some sort of alarm set within him and it had been tripped. He stumbled the final steps to the door and searched for the same leaf that had allowed him to enter.

  But there was none.

  Frantic, Phinnegan turned to see the guardian swelling again in size and pulsing rapidly. Again he searched the door, but found no leaf. Whether the door was poisoned on this side just as it had been on the other, he had no time to ponder. He thrust a hand at the door, and no sooner had his finger touched it than the door vanished. There, just across the threshold stood the two Faë, wide-eyed and pale.

  “What did you do?” Periwinkle asked hoarsely, his face blanching further.

  “Nothing, I took the stone and –“

  “There is no time!” Crimson snapped. “We must hurry! This noise will have warned the dead, not to mention this whole bloody castle!”

  Phinnegan needed no second warning. He lunged forward to join the Faë, but he was stopped short at the threshold. Something was holding him back.

  “What are you waiting for?” Periwinkle yelled. “Come on!”

  “I can’t,” Phinnegan said, his face panicked. “I can’t pass through the doorway.”

  “It’s the stone,” Crimson said. “You can’t pass out while holding it. Toss it out.”

  Without hesitation, Phinnegan tossed the stone into Crimson’s waiting hands. Crimson cradled the stone, staring at the treasure in his hands.

  “Come on then!” Periwinkle insisted. But when Phinnegan moved again to pass the threshold, he could not pass.

  “It won’t let me out! Help!” Phinnegan glanced back and saw that the guardian was moving in his direction.

  “Periwinkle, do something!” Phinnegan pleaded, shouting over the crackling sound of the guardian’s approach.

  Periwinkle hesitated and then moved towards the doorway. But Crimson’s hand upon his shoulder stopped him. The two Faë shared a look. Crimson’s hand fell away and Periwinkle turned, his eyes meeting Phinnegan’s. One look at Periwinkle’s face and Phinnegan turned white.

  “No,” Phinnegan whispered.

  “Sorry, mate.”

  “Wait!” Phinnegan cried out. “Wait…”

  But, they were gone, and Phinnegan was alone. He turned just in time to see the guardian closing the final distance between them.

  “THIEF!” the voice bellowed once more.

  When the guardian’s cloud of light touched Phinnegan, there was a brilliant flash followed by thunder without sound.

  When the first giant lumbered into the chamber a few moments later, he found it empty.

  The stone, the guardian and Phinnegan Qwyk were nowhere to be found.

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘Pixy-led’

  An adventure in a book and an adventure in person are altogether a different sort of thing. Phinnegan found that he preferred the former.

  He had felt no pain when the guardian’s cloud of light touched him. Nor did he meet his death, which was certainly something that flashed before his mind as a possibility. Instead, there was little for him to feel at all; nothing in fact. But he was afraid.

  Everything was gone. The Faë, of course, were gone, as was the stone. So, too, were the great domed chamber and the guardian, Howard. Everything that had been around him only moments before was now, simply not. There was a disturbing pattern in this world in that quite often things, and people, simply up and disappeared. Including oneself. The question now was, where exactly had Phinnegan disappeared to.

  Looking around, nothing was familiar to him. He was outside and it was dark. The ground was soft and cool to the touch, though there was little grass, most of the ground being dirt and a scant few rocks. Although a thick, dark cloud approached from one direction, the sky directly above him was dotted with a billion stars, the Milky Way arcing across the nighttime sky. It comforted him to see something so familiar. Even here in this strange world, the same eyes looked down upon him from the heavens. It was as close to home as he had been these past few days.

  The sight was so comforting, in fact, that Phinnegan sat on the ground for some time gazing upwards. For once, he was completely alone, with no one to tell him where to go, but neither was anything chasing him or trying to kill him. At least not at this very moment.

  As he gazed at the stars, the dark cloud moved closer to him, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. When the cloud was nearly on top of him, Phinnegan rose to his feet and began to trek in the direction that the cloud was moving, trying to stay ahead. He had no idea where he was going, but perhaps he would find some kind of shelter.

  After walking for some time, Phinnegan noticed that the area around him began to slowly fill with trees, first one then two and then ten. The open expanse of land was giving way to a forest, and in short order, Phinnegan was indeed within the borders of a dark and brooding wood. The trees became closer together and began to crowd around him. Th
ere was a path, but it was narrow and overgrown, and weaved amongst large trees such that a group would have needed to walk single-file to stay on the path.

  When the first drop of rain fell on his head, Phinnegan shivered, both from the sudden chill of the rain and the wind that rustled the leaves about, as well as the memories of Darkwater forest and the Faolchú.

  He walked on for perhaps half an hour more, always following the winding way of the path deeper into the wood. The trees were of varying types, elm and oak, ash and birch. One oak that he passed was darker and larger than any other tree around. Its branches were thick and gnarled, and hung gravely over the path. But Phinnegan paid it little mind.

  Until he passed it a second time.

  Even in the dim light of a cloudy night, the tree looked familiar. The same dark trunk, the same gnarled branches hanging over the path. Phinnegan stopped and looked long and hard at the tree, but the rain continued to pound and so he continued on.

  Phinnegan shivered uncontrollably now; the rain was dreadfully cold and he had little to keep himself warm. The ice like rain and the increasing wind was draining his strength quickly. Phinnegan continued to search for a shelter: a bough that could shield him, a hollow, rotting tree in which to hide. But there was nothing. He continued to trudge through the forest, but his steps began to slow.

  A flicker of motion caused him to raise his head. A speck of light like a firefly on a mid-summer’s eve blinked not more than ten paces in front of him. It blinked a second time and then was gone, only to re-appear a few moments later more than twenty paces ahead.

  It must be nice to be your own light.

  He continued on, stumbling occasionally over the sinewy roots that ran from the trees and broke free of the ground. He moved as though within a daze, and more than once his feet seemed to know something that his mind did not, for now and then he would turn right, and then left, but could not remember deciding to do so. More than once, another speck of light, another little firefly, blinked somewhere in front of him. It could, of course, have been the same speck of light, but that thought never crossed his mind.

  When the trees finally parted, Phinnegan stood in a small clearing, barely able to see more than a few paces in front of him. The rain had increased and the night was dark. But just ahead lay something even darker, like the great gaping jaw of a beast, black and ominous even in a black world. Just in front, to the right of this darkness, a firefly flickered.